Category: ultrapersonal

Tattoo U

The new tattoo. Another in my ongoing series of tattoos based on letterforms I think are beautiful. From a visual standpoint, I’ve been wanting something big, black, and smooth-edged that would peek outside of most clothing, but that I could cover up when I wanted to look respectable. As I was walking home from CBGB’s last night (this month’s Homo Corps, where I looked like an ass because I was wearing a suit and carrying a box of Jordan almonds since I’d been at a wedding earlier in the evening), I had this flash of inspiration that a letter with an umlaut on my back would be a nice touch, so that the dots would be visible above the neck of a t-shirt.

So I started looking at old-style serif typefaces, thinking that an “o”, with its off-axis center, would be very lovely. Just for kicks I started looking at some bolder sans serifs and other letters, and the Meta Bold “u” really looked outstanding. I decided to move the dots of the umlaut out to the sides a bit more than where they would sit if the letter were used in text, since it looks better that way on its own. Once I did, I noticed this lovely effect where the letter began to look like two simplified figures standing side-by-side, one reaching out to the other. A little precious perhaps, but that little bit of added conceptual value was the clincher. (see how a nerd like me can turn an otherwise kick-ass tattoo into a tedious exercise of over-analysis?)

This one hurt like a motherfucker. It was so much bigger and darker than either of my last two, and went right over the bony parts of my spine. The sensation of the needle in the soft parts of my neck was also extremely unsettling. It was so uncomfortable that this time I give myself at least two or three days before I start thinking about another.

I Would Like a Boy

Just to throw you all a bone, I contributed my own list to Lori’s really fun and sweet I Would Like a Girl/Boy… project. It was surprisingly hard for me to put the list together, because when I sat down and thought about it, I realized that there are very few things that I actively seek, just a vast array of things I respond to. Recently, David at (the totally excellent site) PlanetSOMA managed to articulate some of the key points better than I ever could:

I love cute little geeky guys. They’re only one of many types which can get me going sexually, but they’re probably the only type which will ever have a real shot at me romantically.

By the way, I’m not using geek as a synonym for “computer nerd” here. The two types merge sometimes but not always. My definition of geekiness is based more on an active intellect combined with an almost childlike enthusiasm for a few really esoteric subjects (one of which may or may not be digital in nature). The “childlike” part is very important; a good geek is first and foremost a big kid.

Also, now that I’ve just gotten a reasonably swanky new digital camera, I’d wanted to do something for Behind the Curtain, until I realized that it was a one-time thing, not an ongoing project. Well, screw that: I’ll just go ahead and do it anyway. Watch for an unveiling, here or at UltraSparky. If my ISP ever manages to get my freakin’ DSL hooked up (and increase my hosting allotment in the process) I’ll also get around to filling this place up with a bunch of new pictures and content and stuff. I mean, don’t hold your breath or anything, but it could happen.

Turn and Face the Change

Change is afoot here in the Rumpus Room. You’ll notice that I didn’t make that a link, because I’m not talking about the web site. I’m talking about my bacheloser pad, the actual Rumpus Room.

  • The most obvious change is the shocking drop in overall temperature. One of the nice side effects of living a large, damp, basement loft is that it’s nice-n-cool all summer long. One of the bad side effects is that it’s bone-chillingly icy during the winter (when the obnoxiously loud industrial heater isn’t on to send the temperature skyrocketing all the way up to 60°F). Now is the start of the awkward in-between period when it doesn’t make sense to turn the heat on yet, but I realize it’s time to keep piles of sweatshirts lying around, and time to get the down comforter out its plastic bag. Geez, I was at the freaking beach last week.
  • And even though it’s time to break out the winter clothes, I’m going to have to wait until they’re sanitary enough to wear. I’ve learned that old cardboard boxes tucked away in a forgotten corner do not make a good place to store leather jackets during the summer. I took out all my coats the other day and found all the leather coated in mold. Eeeeeeeeeeeew. And that stuff just ain’t cheap to clean.
  • On the lighter side, I finally ordered my new computer. Yay! Treats! It will be a delight to do away with the old beast that can barely keep up with me anymore. And I’m getting all the fixin’s with the new machine, too: new scanner, new CD burner, new Zip drive, and — to my relief and yours, no doubt — a digital camera so I can finally add some more visual stimulation to the sites.
  • And because I’m a nerd who doesn’t already have enough to do, I picked up the Linux distribution for Power PCs so I can totally wipe the ol’ 6500 and turn her into a Linux box so I can play around with it. Thank you, Neal Stephenson for filling my head with such ideas. (Did I mention that I recently read Cryptonomicon and got my world rocked?)
  • I also unearthed so many tabletops while cleaning for my birthday party that the whole place looks organized, which makes it feel like I’ve done a lot of redecorating. Most of the space is usually pretty orderly, but the small, tax-deductible corner where I sit and work most of the time usually looks like a twister hit it, so this is a pretty significant turnaround. It’ll never last.
  • I’d love to say that the last change is that my DSL has finally been hooked up, but six months into the process and I’m still waiting for the various vendors involved to coordinate and get their collective shit together.

Hormone Levels

Much to my surprise, I haven’t actually been very horny all this week, despite all the free time on my hands. When I’m busy my urge to fool around is usually a welcome distraction that often motivates me to actually get the hell out of my desk chair and leave the house (often with very constructive results, if you know what I mean). In those rare moments when I have a bunch of free time on my hands, it usually just gets a bit more intense. I remember the week after I left my job in Connecticut and started loafing around the house again, I almost went off the deep end I was so self-indulgent. That back-and-forth between being kinda horny (and perhaps not taking advantage of it) and really horny (and giving in to it) has pretty much been a constant for the last year-and-a-half.

Part of the explanation this week is that I’m exhausted, and I just don’t have the energy to do that much at all. My body, realizing that for the first time in a while it can just shut down and sleep whenever it needs to, is making sure it gets its rest while it has a chance. It seems to have sent a memo to its various parts making sure I don’t get all worked up.

There’s also not a lot of stimulus here on the island. For one thing I’m here with an old friend who’s more like a sister. And it’s off-season, so it really is a ghost town — all the hot surfer boys have gone back to Rutgers or wherever else they go to school. I mean, the garbage man I saw yesterday was pretty hot, but that’s about it. The Olympics are serving up an impossible bevy of chiseled jaws, gorgeous arms, and and firm buttocks, but in sort of an abstract way that’s not worth getting too hot and bothered about.

Also, I’ve been realizing for a while that I’ve been more interested in settling down again. All these months of lots and lots of sex have been fun but have reminded me just how much more satisfying I find it when I can really get to know someone and care about him. A little variety is fun and all, but tricks are for kids. Or at least for kids who don’t get as turned on by guys’ minds as much as their bodies. When I don’t meet guys who stick around for long (and I’m as fussy as anyone else, so this is no “woe is me” cry), I don’t get to experience that deeper, more holistic variety of attraction. And I’m jonesing for it.

But there’s always hope, right?

Work Ethic

Although I’ve heard some bad reviews of it, I finally watched Cradle Will Rock and thought it was fantastic. Like a lot of films that try to bea little epic in scope, it relied on developing some characters in broad strokes and schtick (although Bill Murray did wonders within that), but the overall effect was wonderful. Just watch it some time, OK?

It poses an interesting question: At what point do you become a prostitute for your work? I’ve wrestled with that one a lot over the years — it’s hard to avoid in graphic design. I can’t say that always made the noble choice, but I’ve at least tried to be pretty selective about my bedfellows and choose, whenever possible, to do work that I felt good about in the end. It’s a tough one.

One of the toughest realizations I ever made was about the nature of my work: I’m not interested in pure artistry as much as I am in good craftsmanship and good communication. Even when I’ve worked in more traditionally artsy media, I have always been more interested in exploring the medium or fine-tuning my skills than in making art for art’s sake. There have been times, and there are sure to be more, when I have become my own client and chosen to use my skills to communicate some idea of my own, but that’s not the reason I work. When my own agenda and my work come together, that may be art, but I’m not so interested in pursuing it by that name. Let someone else decide if what I do is art or not: I’m more interested in knowing if I’ve solved the problem at hand. Maybe that makes me a whore once in a while, but at least I’m a whore not trying to convince himself he’s a paragon of virtue.

As for Bill Murray, before I completely forget, I’d like to know when his comic antics crossed that line into sublime performance. Watch Cradle Will Rock or Rushmore and you’ll see that he’s not just a goofball, but that he’s also capable of some really subtle, underplayed brilliance. I would recommend watching the Criterion Edition DVD of Rushmore so you can see Murray’s wry smarts in full effect on an episode of Charlie Rose.

Blackout

Very weird experience last night. After spending the evening on Staten Island with Adam and his girlfriend, Naomi, I was riding the ferry back to Manhattan when I looked up from my book and noticed that some fog had rolled in and obscured the lights of New Jersey that I should have been seeing. In fact, I couldn’t see a single that at all outside of the ferry. If you have ever seen the harbor and the skyline at night, you know that there are quite a few lights out there, so this was really freaky. I walked out to the front of the boat to see if anything was visible out there, but there was nothing whatsoever. This was scary and wonderful all at the same time. It was a little surreal to be in the middle of New York (fucking) City with no signs of life around me, but it also had this strange sense of being on a haunted ship or something — no sky, no shore, just the sound of the water and the engines.

I walked to the back of the boat to see if Staten Island were visible at all, just as the lights along the Brooklyn waterfront began to reappear. Still no sign of Staten Island or Jersey, however. I raced back to the front of the boat, and there was the Manhattan skyline, lit up like a Christmas tree and clear as anything, as if nothing had been out of the ordinary. I looked back and saw this thick black cloud of fog hovering over the harbor behind us. It looked tangible, and more than a little evil.

Reflections Of…

Now that it’s been a year since my first online journal entry, I thought I should take a moment to pause and reflect about what I’ve gotten out of this little experiment. (Those of you who know me better will be think, and rightly so, “Pause and reflect? Day-um, Sparky must have a BUTTLOAD of work that he’s procrastinating about.”)

Overall, it was a good idea to start it. I’ve never been very disciplined about keeping a journal, although I’ve been partial to the idea ever since I first read Louise Fitzhugh’s Harriet the Spy. The decision to post the entries on the web site has been a good motivation for me to keep writing. Not only do you people keep nagging me if I slack off, but the feedback I get encourages me to keep going. It’s also been a great way to make lots of new friends, which has probably been the best part about it.

My original thought for the journal stuff was for it to be a way for people who knew me to keep up on what I was doing so I didn’t have to write so many similar e-mails. As fate would have, almost no one I know reads this regularly, and it’s become a tool for new people to get to know me a little better. That’s been a nice surprise, and it’s helped get me over some of my inherent shyness. I’ve found myself meeting people who already know too much stupid stuff about me for me to worry about making a good (and possibly misleading) impression. Hell, this sort of shameless self-promotion has even gotten me laid a few times. God bless technology!

My writing has also gotten a hell of a lot better. Writing more often has made it easier for me to control my voice and sharpen my skills. The journal writing has gotten closer and closer to the way I actually speak and think, and my paying attention to that aspect has even helped me with more formal writing, which I’ve been doing more and more for work.

Why all this introspection? Well, aside from marking the anniversary of this journal, I’m also beginning preparations for my 30th Birthday Blow-Out Shindig. Yes, it’s true, and you’re all invited! Details to follow, but if you have any desire to boogie with Sparky in his spacious Williamsburg loft, make sure to keep your calendar free. Details to follow.