While gassing up all the horses last night for the fam’s week of commuting, if I hadn’t seen the glow on the young goofball’s distracted dumb face and reacted quick (like I still can) when he zipped up to the pump I wouldn’t be typing this. He actually clipped his rear fender on the hose a bit but still didn’t look away from his feed. I think that name is appropriate for who uses a feed. In my many trades up to this point I’ve skirted so many wild final destinations but just how poetic would it be, I ask you dearest acquaintance and purveyor of my first Stack, for me to be the grewsome and most unsanctimonious victim of a D.W.B. ? (so after that I would normally scribe with a pencil “TBDL” but my editors family says that doesn’t actually mean To Be Defined Later these days and not a great algorithm to start on but here we go? !)
📌📍📌📌📍📌📌📌📍📌📌📌📌📌📍📌📌📌📌📌📌📌📍
For artists, inspiration comes from many places and as the ether sweeps across the land and rushes through the walls only a few can harness it but a polyartist must find muses across the many vast valleys and mountains and from my first memories the only thing that ever truly nudged me to use my gifts, talents and tools in different ways were engineers and techs. Their whitepaper objectives with their “stay-in-the-lines” demeaner is usually just storefront with a shed in the back leading to a bunker and lab hiding a mad scientist who’ll provide all the “negative space” on which creatives push boundaries, flirt with innovation and have a symbiotic one-night stand with ideation and execution through some accidently well-intended scribbled gestures on coasters framed by Hamm’s Beer coffee rings that progress the human condition. And overtime, the rings keep track of that too. If Substack is to be the ultimate medium then it will be creators that take this platform past the horizon and eternally shine like the stars for making the rare transition from software engineering to the new EVP of Galactic Marketing.
👆Those guys, see them up there☝️ that duo more than likely helped
& Co 3dprint a batch of sugar rockets over the weekend to take home to their kids today; but will be sending their grandkids to Mars in a not too distant tomorrow. Relatively speaking, my money’s actually on Tim Ellis but we can always place some stellar bets here on Substack. Step right up. Just mail a fourty-six penny cashier’s check or money order to:You can almost hear it, Count Musk counting, “won, twoo, tree…. four launches to LEO” though my old oracle on auger gut tells me 2.
(Ok, I mean if you consider NOT getting past the filament really what one would call technical “space” but that’s ONLY if you’re one of them spherical earthers, I’m digesting a sprinkled torus theory this Monday morning and watching a Rumble about the high frequencies of cream cheese tomorrow)
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This platform that I am writing on, and the only reason I’m really committing any more of my time here and not really anywhere else, (online that is) from what I’ve observed Substack seems to truly be run by a unique crew and after having stalked consumed quite a bit of their individual contributions of poptimisist banter, stacks and general encouragement to humanity any reasonable person can find their sole mission is to simply build a cultural engine unlike any other out there, in the digital or physical space, that will actually get us to space. If you take the time to view their updates and progress or how they engage each other and all the members of this growing community, well even if they quip its not at the expense of others. They’re are modest in facing the challenges of technocracy yet confident about the strengths and skills they all bring to the table. This is clearly not a vanity project of theirs or a monopoly on the public space like Tom & Jack or Zuck & Muck so I thought, “hay let’s finally place a bet on my bicentennial American quarter horse mind and rather than idle at the trough maybe gallop out of the gate and contribute something to the race.” Hence the “Make My Monday” series where we can all chat at the corner store before we start our weeks. You can even smoke while fueling at the pump or bust out the cardboard and breakdance. 3-2-1… Launch Let’s jam!
☕⛽🔥🎼BLUELINES 💙🔵🟦🔷🔹
This was original music I once posted under an annon called Floating Problems almost twenty years ago. If Friendster was like a hip after school skate park at the Y that all of the sudden made you start showing ID, upped their membership and then started randomly checking your pockets for contraband, most of the doofus extraordinaries I ran with then just cruised to the empty lot across the tracks called Myspace where we could tag with gifs and commence in general horseplay and artistic debauchery. That’s where this song resided until all my relationships matured and court ordered me to community service on Facebook for fifteen years and after a year of a suspended Twitter license, just like my hobo rail hopping youth I’m gonna take this Substack train to destination unknown.
I’d feel privileged if you were reading and still listening to Bluelines while scrolling down your own commute just like I was when I wrote it, riding trains and busses to get to my long on-site hours as a Designer. The time I afforded not staring at a bumper was used to fill notepads with writings and sketches of my surroundings but this one song from then, I wrote it on a piano then tweaked and massaged it on my Macbook for the enjoyment of my two young sons that were at home. My intention was to create something like I had listened to in my youth as they were six and two years old. The youngest was a fan of Thomas the Tank Engine and would meet me at the train if I was home early enough for a pick up and didn’t have to skate home. His favorite color, still to this day in fact, was green which ranked the green Percy way above the main character Thomas in his eyes. His toddler use of language, practiced on visiting friends and neighbors brought on wide eyes and gasps when he’d exclaim with typical rhotacism, “I love Pərcy!”
His older brother, now an engineer, probably still wishes like he told me back then, on every North Eastern shooting star he would see, that Agumon was is real. They both now laugh how their younger sister would put herself through Coachella and back just to experience Hatsune Miko in person, a hologram of a anime popstar character who sings via a computer synthesized voice (for the non-weebs) She actually viewed the stream of the event that night from home in our living room. Live. Let that phrase set in. I live-stream of a hologram popstar concert. If Hegel ever came in a Manga, she’d take the truck, start to D.W.B. and 💥 take out a whole Mercedes Metris of Heideggerian femboys on their way to a Holy Day of Obligation emergent church in Palm Springs. On that note, my inspirations came from a lot of Walter Wendy Carlos, "Baroque Hoedown" by Perrey and Kingsley, "Pop Corn" by Hot Butter and Ray Lynch but also a lot a VGM on my PSP like “Hip” Tanaka and Hiroshi Okubo and OST’s for animes that I was working on. Dash a little bit of Postal Service and Newcleus and voila, a musical soup de jour of my 20 something mind where you can literally hear the synapses in my prefrontal load barely grasping the term restraint. “Think before you post kind of stuff” which is why I probably would have compulsively collected swag for these kind of virtual-bard companions that San Fran currently has on the BART. If they had them back then for my own colorful commuter experience at least goats and hawks might have been totems to brave the elements by because as I read back through all the journals and recall the wildness of it all, I see where my dutiful guardian angel developed some quick wings to keep up with me while running with the wolves.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem meeting people because polyartists have many keys to unlock truths and humans always let their guard down while us immortals are drawing their portrait or providing atmospheric cocktail piano for the private after-party of the Catalina Wine Mixer. Empathy can be a blessing but also a curse this way, but it served me well on light-rail trains, which were my favorite for drawing because the ride was smooth and the passenger turnover was low. You’d get to stare at length freely and learn to read anyone from Suburban families riding to the game or foreign tourists who’s faces tell me whether they just arrived whether they can’t wait to leave. It was always the underbelly of society that found sanctuary riding late nights and surely the tales of those kinds of adventures I want to start in on but will need a better score than what Bluelines has to offer. One lesson from personal experience I will part for starters, before you take a seat on public transit, look for tacks. Also smell before you sit because not even the Hibiscus syriacus behind your ear will cover the odor of the uric nitrate absorbed into your casual Friday G-Star RAW jeans. Maybe “smell before you sit” is sage advice in general and also how I approached Substack for the last two years.
🖼️🎨🖌️SUBSTACK STATION💻⌨️🖱️
Visually I found a muse in
when long time 2L2R users of his platform dismissed the Notes feature but he explained (and I partially) agree with his analogy that “it might look and feel like a social media vehicle on the outside but it has a totally different engine”. He likens it to Tesla and maybe its his not-so-subtle jab at the guy that took the ball home after Substack refused to play by the same advertising model rules but IMO it’s a new engine but merely a return back to publishing models that were never dependent solely on ad revenue because of their paid subscribership. As a 20 year old in college I was gifted a subscription to Esquire where I was able to read who objectively reported on the OJ trail and now she’s hosted here. Many other great Journalist’s like like Seymour Hersh and Alex Berenson whom are all independent and unshackled by the AdCouncil. I just started tapping into the vast amounts of art and fiction but how many newsletters can one person take in?The corner service station where all these hi-octane speakers of truths and spickets of spark is right here and if you need any topping of fluids by partaking in discourse pull into any comment garage. There’s a shitposter locked in the bathroom and someone’s always grifting panhandling by the BrainIce box trying to get ahead just by doing nothing or hustlin’ the grindset. You know that bro in the beamer that will cut you off in stop in go traffic just to wind up doing the same motoslinky in a different lane he thought was faster? Well we all end up in at the place, where we are supposed to be, exactly when the great screen writer in the sky intended us to be there. Also careful because while you’re inside getting hot kofi,
In the video I solely used Adobe Creative Cloud to build my composition around a wikicommons pic of a Chevron Station. Photoshop for masking, Illustrator for logo and font dev and then After Effects for all the compositing, mograph, rendering and encoding. A few hours but spread out over homelife and secret M.A.S.K. missions to actual corner store to get more coffee Hamm’s Beer. Stylistically I was really taken back to my youth as an artist when here on Substack a few months back, when I had a real unique exchange with another annon nested deep in a comments section where he kept on asking me, due to my account name if I had ever heard of a book. Providing me descriptions like maybe I was a prompt. All he could recall was an image an it’s caption but somehow I was exposed to the very illustrator of the book he couldn’t remember, Bruce McCall and I drew the connection. Like riding the bus and you help the person next to you struggle with the map and get them to their next connection, only realizing they’re trying to get to your old hood. I’ll never forget
In one of a recent enlightened
Note to end all Notes, the head of design really explored the negative space of language so in the video IRoads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.
OK McFly, but maybe you’ll want to state just how we’re going to get there and just exactly what kind of FluxCapacitorFastnFurious ride did you, oh dear precious reader, just hop into to coming in hot from the onramp to close off an 16 lane interstate by hitting the ebrake, doin’ a torus on the road while holding roman candles. If every day is a good day to die then one should blow a deep and hard breath into every creation as if it’s your last but as the EG name right now implies I should try to stay somewhat grounded. Who wants to read the ramblings of a lofty polyartist?
📨💌📩WHAT’S THE VECTOR VICTOR? 🥸🤯🤮
I want to get into the rhythm first with this Stack but I won’t remain anonymous for too long. The one paid subscription I currently pay for is a not so bad cat from San Juan so he needs no name for my patronage. I honestly just feel sorry that his little toe beans can’t work the shift keys ‘cause that cat can’t caps. I really pray that this one act of paying for content on my part keeps
from suing me but hey howdy cowboy, just send a Letter of Complaint first before you jump that legal gun as my counsel is already a little nervous about some of the satirical pseudo-fiction I’ve drafted and submitted for edits. Especially the narratives about my most recent two jobs, the last of which was running evening vigils for a busy Mortuary as a Funeral Service Assistant. You have to be pretty comfortable in your own skin to be the last to close up that shop because let me tell you, deadman do tell tales. No, please let me tell you some neat stories by subscribing. Or just come back, come back, come back… they’ll be waiting for you. Come bahahhckk…Though being an annon is a viable path for content creators and memelords I’m sick of wearing masks and need actual human skin in this game for it to succeed no matter who comes knocking. To warm up to that though I’ve scheduled a technocratic format for productivity. Also for keeping my mind organized.
Every 15 days.
You just read MAKE MY MON next will be TRAGIC TUES then WILD WEDS and so forth until I make my way back around to episode two of MONDAY. If I pick up the pace to every 8 days or even draw it out to 22 that would progressively stagger over the week but I’m motivated and really excited for FUZZY FICTION FRIDAYS with my experience in interactive comics and Choose Your Own Adventures. I also direct a children’s choir and think SACRED SUNDAYS will be another neat series with my ontological inquiries, theological explorations and even my own NDE’s which I’d personally like to open up about to absolute complete strangers on the interwebs but naturally am hesitant. Not you LilT3, for life and eternally in death, we bros.
I do have a love of automotive, flight and mechanical design so MONDAYS might continue to be about transportation to some degree but also something I made. Just know dear reader that the whole stack will be focused on our transformation as it will be you with your time, attention, likes and comments who will give this old gelapi the fuel to transcend.
So go ahead and MAKE MY MONDAY here at Extreme Groundskeeping, if one of my current 28 subscribers who isn’t blood related wants to cut me loose, well at least that’s some sort of reaction and I’ll be fine with that too. So here, tell ya what, I’ll look away for a bit and here, I’m Steppin’ Out (Joe Jackson) to the corner store for some coffee and smokes and then I’ll probably intentionally get lost in a garden. Not mine either but it will contain mystery and beauty but I’ll only travel half way into it.
Don’t worry my new acquaintance ‘cause I always accidently find my way half way back, I promise. Safe travels this week, transcension over transportation so please do not ever D.W.B.!
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Welcome & Cheers,
🌿EG
P.S.
Oh ya, to be defined later as promised “D.W.B.” - Driving While Brainrotting… you heard it hear first.
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