| No Brakes |
[20 Jan 2010|12:52am] |
So, there's a little thing called LJBook. It's a site dedicated to turning all your sorted entries into a cohesive format. In this scenario it's a PDF, in a metaphorical scenario it's nearly impossible. Even though I know this, it didn't stop me from trying it out, to condense thousands of entires into one central file.
Trust me when I tell you it's something you should never do.
And there it is again, the book titles. Perhaps an ongoing theme over the last ten years of entries is that; my writing boils down to little blurbs that make for excellent titles for a book filled with nonsense and drivel. But I digress...
When I say it's something you should never do I mean it. Ten years ago I was a superior writer to my present form. I could write with a prose that verged on being poetry. In fact, most of it is just that, flowery sentences strung together into paragraphs. Poetry, while one of the lowest forms of art, at least has no qualms about what it is. My early writing however was as confused structurally and narratively as I was about love at the time. And here in lies the dark terror and secret horror about revisiting all your entires at once. I was an outstanding writer without anything to say, and now I'm just a terrible writer with things that are at least worth mentioning.
I had this delusion; I was in the process of finding alternative printing methods for Bo Fahs when I said to myself "Wouldn't it be nice to have your own book?". Lulu is lush with options for how to make such fantasies happen. I personally wanted a 6'' x 9'' hard bound book, black with grey, white, and pale blue print on it, the title of course would read "Wondering About What I Should be Doing and the Likelihood of Failure: Selected Writings by William Sellari". A fantastic cocoon that would no doubt would have hatched into my own premature death had I let this misguided dream continue. Why do you ask? Let's analysis the facts...
What have I ever written? This.
Where do I put it? Livejournal and a million & one sketch books.
So, why not fill your book with the best of this? Because there is no best of this.
There is only this. The rantings of my brain without a filter or someone to say "Will, you really shouldn't". Had that book come to fruition it would have killed me. Think of the worst photograph that exists of you, now interlace that photo with all the details of your emotions at the time. Upon viewing the photo you get a guide book that reminds you of all the mistakes you were currently making and that you continue to make. Finally, frame that photo above your mantle, better yet, make a billboard out of it. Once all of these things are in place, I believe you begin to understand the tragedy of converting said writings into a book.
It's troubling.
Maybe not so much so that I was young and naive once, but rather I'm still here, still writing This. I doubt it even gets read, and if it does what does it do? I've never written the Prince or even the Da Vinci Code. Those words do something... these words merely exist. They exist and serve as a constant reminder that if I don't have anything to say, I shouldn't say anything at all.
It's a ridiculous and useless ability. Seriously, watch this...
There was motion, always motion. A gentle rocking of the place not only where he lay but of the world around him. This rhythm, this time. He opens his eyes, it's a tree above him, a river, the channels of a heart. But beyond that?
Places that don't sway, a world where his nature is simply his own. In his elegant fortress, his beautiful prison, he can nudge the results, rock the odds in his favor, live in content and remain complacent. The places that don't move, that are solid, those lands beyond where he can cast his net, beyond where the world is soft, they only serve to scare him.
See that? Absolute bullshit and stupidity. That was about me sitting on my hammock by the way. Me sitting on my hammock, ignoring the only instruction I think hammocks should come with, which is to relax. And here's the bitch of it all, when I'm feeling venerable or there's some kind of turmoil in my life, this bullshit pours out of me. I have a relentless compulsion to spill it all over Livejournal, putting my embarrassing guts up on a wall like some asshole artist.
It's safe to say that I'm doing just that right now, but at least I have intent this time. I have to figure this out, I have a drive to write, but nothing to speak of. Perhaps it's time to divert this energy into just that.
Thank you reader, and I apologize as usual.
-Will
|
|
| Current Event |
[19 Jan 2010|12:51pm] |
Today nearly seems a waste, we were to shoot some footage of Austin for a client; instead it's overcast and pissy out, not the ideal conditions for a beautiful camera. In light of doing nothing and procrastinating on work, I'm here on livejournal, the undying dumping ground of words.
I've been writing my daughter a lot lately; my life could easily be half over at this point so what's to stop it from just ending tomorrow, eh? Therefore, I've been writing her many forms of advice that I hope will be applicable, if her brain develops in anyway like mine. Having written a variety of entries in it, starting in June last year, I've noticed an overarching theme, which is "while people are puzzles, and you'll no doubt be inquisitive, trying to figure everyone out will only make you crazy".
I'm not sure if that's good fatherly advice, but it's what I have to offer.
|
|
| Plug |
[09 Jan 2010|05:17pm] |
Q: I am 36 weeks and just curious how you would know if you passed your mucus plug. Can you feel it? Or do you kinda have to watch for it?
A: I'M PRETTY SURE IVE BEEN LOSING MINE OVER THE LAST FEW DAYS. MINE HAS BEEN THICK YELLOWY/PINK MUCUS WITH RED BLOOD MIXED IN IT. ITS REAL THICK AND STICKY.. AND WHEN I WIPE AND ITS THERE I PRACTICALLY HAVE TO PULL IT OUT. ITS SO GROSS.
posted 01/30/2008 by gerbie44
|
|
| Tiny Shore Leave |
[04 Jan 2010|02:13pm] |
Dear Friends,
First, please allow this to play in the background while you read this. Are you feeling pumped? If not click here then read on. If that doesn't work, you might want to get your American Genes checked, they could be low.
If you don't have time for any of this needless detail, skip to the bottom.
-
Second, this Friday I would like to go out and have a party for a few of reasons...
1. I'm going to be a dad real soon. Please allow me to reiterate that I'm going to be a motherfucking D-A-D soon. Seriously, any day now my daughter is going to come out and rule this world with an iron fist, so before we're all slaves I think we owe ourselves one last moment of triumph before my little girl starts wrecking shop. I know what you're thinking right now, "Yeah, Will, she's you're daughter, you're the going to be the slave sucker", well to that all I have to say is that I saw a recent sonogram and in Solange's womb right now, along with some sawed off shotguns, is a list with all your names on it. You've been warned.
2. Andrew WK is apparently giving up his mantle, I figure this would be a good chance for all of you to audition to be the next Andrew WK. I know what you're thinking right now, "Will, I don't want to be the next Andrew WK". Well this is me lovingly putting my pointer finger on your mouth and going "ssssshhhhhhhhhhh". Daddy knows what's best for you.
3. 2010 guys, we can celebrate this... OR what I think the appropriate response is, drink ourselves into believing the world is actually A. cyberpunk (as it should be) or B. Road Warrior (as it should be). I know what you're thinking right now, "You need to let the dream die Will, it's 2010 and at least we have these stupid iPhones, the two way pager of the genetically elite". The dream will never die, and this drunk style of wishful thinking will only serve you well when you either A. have to navigate the internet in realtime 3D as your cybernetic avatar which hopefully look like a dragon/naked woman made out of liquid metal or B. have to defend the only supplies you have left in the world (canned cat food and gasoline) against a horde of bondage punkers who not only are going to kill you and steal your shit but also fuckle every inch of your dead body. What's the worst that could happen? You wake up and you've killed your iPhone because you thought it was A. streaming a subliminal control virus through your mood tunes that was whipping your memory, leaving only bits and pieces of the good times you and the iphone had in order to then convince you to buy more Scrubs episodes from Steve Jobs or B. a good projectile (which it is) and you slung it in your wild feral style and cut off the hand of some lame dude and killed another bondage guy's boyfriend. Again, you're welcome.
-
But in all seriousness gang, I'm going to be a Dad soon. This doesn't mean my life is over, it just means I'm not going to be able to do shit for the first three months or so. I'd like to think of this is a kind of bachelor party but where my lady friends can hang out also and there's no chance of getting stripper crotch on you ever (father hate, broken dreams, and unwanted children are hard to wash out of jeans). It is my wish to celebrate my Daughter's upcoming birth with all of you in the best way I know how, because you're all amazing people, and I couldn't imagine celebrating anything unless you were around.
But I know what you're thinking "Will, that's this Friday, like January 8th and shit. Thanks for once again, making this grandiose plans and not giving us any advance warning!" to which I have this to say. I had originally planned to have this two weeks from now, when something occurred to me. I, if anything, have handled the bulk of this pregnancy like the kind of tranquil stream you'd see on the front of Jewel's new Target exclusive, on the little bullshit fake new age / relaxation rack, album. But this one thought gave me so much anxiety I felt like it might well up in the ocean and drown an entire shoreline in Asia. The thought was this... What if I go out get shit faced then get THE call? That baby being born didn't scare me at all, me having to pee the whole time, me trying to stay awake through 23432431534059823405982304 beers, me trying to cut the three cords that were swirling in front of me, that scared the shit out of me.
In other words, I'm not trying to get this baby going while I'm trashed, so we advanced the date to make sure this wouldn't happen.
-
Here's the plan, Friday 7PM at LaLa's.
Or I would even be persuaded to go somewhere more central or east if that meant everyone would come out, location isn't a huge issue, it's going to be a cab night either way.
Love,
Will
|
|
| Recent Words |
[28 Dec 2009|12:45pm] |
Email from Robbie:
you guys have a cacti christmas tree?
i would of if i lived in texas
Text message from Eric:
Have u ever been to a pdx strip club? A chick just choked me w her belt, stepped on my testicles, and drank my beer. No joke.
Text message from Paul:
Lemme know if you wanna hang out and giggle a lil.
Text message from Joe:
If confused, call me.
Text message from Amanda Moon:
My camera will melt your faggoty face off.
Email from Jay:
i saw the best review of the Phantom Menace. ever.
Chat with Samantha on American Restaurants in Japan:
me: KFC?
Samantha: oh yea they have kfc
they call it kentakii
haha
people think thats japanese too
there is no kentucky in japan
wtf is wrong with you people
|
|
| VHS |
[28 Dec 2009|03:34am] |
There was once a time when we ruled the world.
It seemed distant till minutes ago, watching an old tape from ten years back. All my memories filled back in, details remembered, and nostalgia ensued. I used to believe we were the most creative people in the world, that our lives were truly epic, and in many ways they were. In our simplicity we birthed events and situations that were monumental, that would shape the things we try and mimic to this day.
I'm torn now when I look at it like a map. Jonathan goes this way, Robert does that. I'm excited about my life and their's but it all feels so constructed now.
When you house an animal that's instincts tell it to do something other than remain passive, undesired behaviors surface. A Rat Terrier, while the perfect size for a lap, was still breed for it's namesake; to veraciously hunt rats. If left to it's own devices all day, it will tear apart your sofa, dig into your carpet, and shred anything it can find in order to still track what are now invisible rats.
Everyone betrays their breeds to some degree. It's simply a matter of how long it takes for those bred traits to find their way to the top. I can't help but feel we're all attempting, in one way or the other, to relive the time when we ruled the world. And whether or not we ever relive that glory, I will always miss those times. I miss my friends, and I miss not knowing what to do, just simply doing it.
....
In other news, I'll be a Dad in less than a month. In preparation my brain has refused to send me any thoughts on the subject in order to make unbiased decisions when the time is right. I'd like to publicly thank my brain for that amount of foresight... and laziness.
....
I missed my high school reunion this weekend. And while I dry my eyes with time well spent with family in Texas, I can't help but wonder why the above mentioned didn't bother having our own reunion? The short answer, if I had to give one, is our lifestyles. That isn't to say that we all lead busy lives in which we would be unable to get together, rather, it's to say that high school reunions exist in the same way different people view Godfather part II. I don't need Godfather part III because the second part is perfect. Some people would disagree with me, and if you're one of those people then clearly you didn't understand how a movie should work, and in this metaphor, life. If the Godfather part I was high school, and the Godfather part II was the time spent 10 years prior, then I don't need a high school reunion in the same way there never needed to be a Godfather III. It's odd that a majority of people you graduate with only realize ten years later that by going a straight and narrow path in which you graduate, go to college, get a job, get married, have a kid, and call it the rest of your life, might have some holes in it. The biggest one, and the need for a high school reunion is simply "what happened to the people I love, have lost contact with, and now miss because my life had a predetermined plan?". I don't need a high school reunion because I've never lost touch with Camel, because I talked to Robbie on the phone today, because we're people who's company matters more than our paycheck. And besides, we all knew life was kind of shitty anyways, why drown it in alcohol distilled from everyone else's crappy lives ten years later? At the end of Godfather II you kill the people who betray you and stay loyal to those you can trust, if that's not good enough you fucked up between the diploma in '99 and the divorce in '09.
....
I'm negative.
....
Goodnight,
Will
|
|
| The Gift of Music |
[16 Dec 2009|11:38am] |
I'm broke this year gang, so the only thing I'll be getting you are these well thought out music recommendations. I'm not doing any kind of in depth research about any of these bands, I couldn't tell you their history, and I'm inventing story lines for each song if they need it. I hope you enjoy them.
King Khan & the BBQ Show - I'll be Loving You
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvfnoqHuTFg
It's possible that I can't say enough good things about a song with such an ominous band name. My guess is that King Khan is a well known singer and he just happened to partner up with the BBQ Show. The mixture of the two reads like a west Texas Snake Farm. The music on the other hand is a love story between God Flesh and Sam Cooke. It's like your '84 garage cooked up this gem because instead of Metallica, you had a dust covered tube amp from the '50s, a busted keyboard amp you ran the first drum machine through, and your skinny white friend who had the gift of blue eyed soul.
Bear in Heaven - You Do You
http://fakepennycomics.com/blog/BIH_YouDoYou.mp3
I like this song, although typically, I wouldn't like a song that sounds like this. Especially, if the song in question came out in 2009 instead of 1994. However, it does reminds me of the "cyber" future we were once promised. I should be listening to this song in my black glass condo, atop Hong Kong right now, stuck in inner turmoil that the pale neon blue eyed black haired woman with tasteful dreds that is displayed in a little virtual loop in front of me. She's actually an AI, so how will I ever find love again? The movie could either end with me turning my body into data and merging with her or it could end with me seeking out a psychic dolphin's help to generate a hard hologram of her in the real world. You Do You is also seasoned with a bit of the short lived God Lives Underwater.
Jay-Z - Off That
http://nonstopinfo.com/audio/OffThat.mp3
Fucking for real, would you two insanely rich assholes just knock it the fuck off and make an entire album together in order to get Howard Huges rich and crazy? Then the two of you would be wearing Berluti Rapiécés tissue boxes, living the rest of their days out confined together in a hotel room, with no other option than record the greatest music ever made. Since Jay calls out Barack for being awesome in this song, our President should make it a law that Timbaland and Jay make at least half an album together a year and each time one is released it's a national holiday. Furthermore, Bo loves the part where Jay calls Beyonce his "high yellow brawd" and who the fuck can argue with that? There's not much for me to say besides that.
Andrew W.K. - We Want Fun
http://kaeman.free.fr/Music/Mp3/Andrew%20Wk%20-%20We%20Want%20Fun.mp3
In order to stay in the Xmas spirit, listen to this song and re imagine Andrew WK redoing everyone of Ralphie's scenes in A Christmas Story with is wet and bloody face. This song is like Meatloaf, Bruce Springsteen, and Danzig all got drunk and fucked. Which, for those of you who don't know, is quite a prominent theme for Mr. WK; in We Want Fun he poignantly states "We wanna have fun and we wanna get wasted". If that's the case, all I want for Christmas is Andrew.
Mike Patton - Dio Come Ti Amore
http://es.youtube.com/watch?v=CocwaE9JvGU&fmt=18
Speaking of mad geniuses... If there was an everlasting perfect soundtrack to which God lovingly and delicately sculpted the universe by, Mike Patton and his band of Amsterdam spies just covered it. This is truly Will Sellari's perfect storm, '60s Italian pop songs, Mike Patton, and a full orchestra. It is entirely possible that when God was creating everything, like Marcel Duchamp might approach a chess game, that he cruelly forgot to make my heart big enough for this entire album.
|
|
| Bits & Pieces |
[14 Dec 2009|02:04pm] |
So here's what I remember from the tail end of some of the conversations I had last night...
---
"That whole movie is pink haze! Why are there blind shadows!?!"
---
"Look... I'm sorry buddy, but I got to run. I got a text from a girl. Look, my life is really crazy right now. She told me yesterday that she was a stripper! I don't know what to think about that, like I was up all night, and then I texted her before I went to bed and she went Magnolia and got me enchiladas! But here's the thing friend, she's like 3/4 Squall, and I'm like 3/4 Cowboy, and when she gets some fire water in her we fuck like animals! I got to go celebrate the moment!"
---
"This is the first time today I've had pants on."
---
"We went to school with this asian kid everybody called Flash. His real name was (insert Chinese name I can't remember here), and he thought he was fast as hell. He'd run to all his classes to prove it. Who knows if he really ran that fast, because he probably didn't. But he did learn English in one year, which is pretty damn fast if you ask me!"
---
"My new camera will melt your faggoty face off!"
---
"Please understand, while it's nice to have a partner which the option to make babies is readily available, and while I definitely got the best of both worlds here, you two ladies have the option of finding a donor! No seriously, what I mean is this, like what if you totally are in love with somebody and their DNA just sucks. If you two wanted to have a baby right, you could be super picky about DNA! Fuck nurture, it's all nature now, and SCIENCE! Lesbians have the advantage of SCIENCE AND BABIES!"
"And it's not like you could stick an egg in your boyfriend!"
|
|
| Christmas Again |
[13 Dec 2009|07:17am] |
Dear World,
I made this song today for Charles Vestal's Annual Christmas Album. It's what would happen if there was a Nintendo game about Trent Reznor playing the lead in the Santa Clause instead of Tim Allen. It's a cover of Bells are Ringing... I think?
I hope you enjoy.
Yule tides and such,
Will
PS Be on the look out for Will Sellari Saves Xmas which will be online for this holiday season.
|
|
| Theme Song |
[10 Dec 2009|05:10am] |
While watching UFC 106 today I asked JP this...
Will: "If you were in a professional fight, what music would you walk to the ring to?"
JP: "Why Can't We be Friends?"
Will: "Perfect!"
|
|
| New Speak |
[19 Nov 2009|01:26am] |
I've noticed lately that my word recognition and live sentence development has been lacking to say the least. I saw a sign painted on the side of a bar a while back and my brain told me it said "Potato Salvage". Immediately, I just about asked Bo and Amanda, who I was riding with, why you would name your establishment such a ridiculous name when the same brain that fed me the input had another question. "Why would you name a bar Potato Salvage the surround the name with two horses?" Context clues went to work and I realized the sign had more than likely said "Pony Saloon".
Furthermore, many of my spoken words are met with awkward pauses. And for these two symptoms there must be a solution.
While this post will not be utilizing the technique I wish to try (mostly because I'm exhausted right now) further posts will. In emails that I compose to clients, people I don't know, or inquires, I try very hard to embellish my sentence structure and vocabulary. I believe if I do this enough it will begin to overlap with my speech centers that are on the fritz.
Wish me luck.
|
|
| I Lay in Glass |
[10 Nov 2009|03:47pm] |
Dear Internet,
I broke my glasses. Rather, I broke the shit out of my glasses. This is how they sit on my face. I promise I didn't skew them for the picture. In order to keep them from falling off I have to pretend I have Taco Neck Syndrome. They used to stay sort of normal but then I looked down and they fell, as if to finish themselves off due to their pathetic sad existence, they destroyed themselves even more.
So, what I have now are glasses that sit wrong on my face, which instead of the magic ability of sight, they have the magic ability of giving me headaches. These glasses also come equipped with a "get scratched every 5 minutes" feature where every five minutes I forget that they're broken or something requires me to move my head, and they fall off scratching themselves like they were one of those weird catholics with the repentance whips.
Long story short, I need new glasses, I'm broke, and I sort of remembered hearing once about this amazing place in Austin to get new glasses for like 90 bucks. Do any of you internets in all your infinite wisdom know what I'm talking about or know of a cheap place to get an eye exam and glasses?
Help me internet, storm the optical beaches of Normandy to liberate my eyeballs from my german glasses.
Love,
Will
|
|
| Related Stories / Condemning Evidence |
[05 Nov 2009|03:57am] |
|
Here's what happens when I should go to bed but don't...
Exhibit A:
I registered the domain ToysRWeird.com
Exhibit B:
 William wrote on Jeremiah Schoch's Wall. I wish the united states instituted a draft into the Rocket Corps, and I got drafted and hated it, even though they replaced my arms with rockets. Then one day I'd be flying around pointing one of my rocket arms at the military base, wishing I could still flick them off because even in uniform I still feel piiieenk roc k, when I'd bump into you flying around with rocket arms too. With our shared arms of rockets we'd fly over detroit, burning it to the ground, exterminating every ICP, M&M, and Kid Rock fan in our wake.
Exhibit C:
While working on a poster for Caleb, I paused for moment to over look the work and pet Kitty who was sitting in my lap. I nod into a waking / mini dream. Kitty turns into some girl in my dream. We're in a car.
Girl: "You know... I can see you. Your brown skin shining in the sun. You got your hair combed back..."
I cut her off.
Will: "I know where this is going."
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
cutoffhisarm's journal
