February 27th, 2012

Memories are a strange thing. So much of life goes by without ever becoming a memory. The memories we often want to keep are the ones that slip away. And of course, conversely, the things we most often want to forget are the ones we keep within us. So really, most of life is lived without retaining it mentally. Sure we have an abundance of photos, videos, tweets, and whatever else to help us remember everything that happens in our lives. Think about the kids who are growing up entirely on Facebook. I’m thankful my awkward teen years are not digitally archived.

 

Recently I’ve begun to write down every memory I have. A humbling exercise in writing, but also it is a chimera inducing project that may never have a completion date. Writing aside, this experiment has made me feel more in touch with myself. After all, who are we without our pasts? Of course, I’m a sucker for nostalgia. That coupled with constant reflection of everything and anything, most of my days are now spent connecting them with the past. Since I tend to be an optimistic, positive person, most of my memories are that way too. Even the sad memories are peaceful in their passing.

 

Dont be confused though. I’m not wistfully daydreaming my life away. On the contrary, I have only spent a minimal amount of time developing these memories into complete stories on paper.

 

One thing that has happened though, is that I’ve realized how little matters except the present moment. Looking back on people and things that at the time were my whole world, and now today have been reduced to a few paragraphs worth of memories puts life in perspective.

 

Reflecting on the past means you’re presently living in that memories future. It seems strange to me that memories never seem to care about the future. Take a moment to digest that. The same future you had all those dreams and questions about, is exactly your present moment. And again, in ten years, maybe five, you’ll be at the same place- your past’s future. I realize this seems quite complicated, but it is important.

 

In the very least, your present depends on it.

 

 

I realize this post may be awkward or confusing, or perhaps just poorly written. I didn’t do the topic justice, but I had to at least get the thoughts out there. I happily welcome thoughts and criticisms.

February 16th, 2012

A year ago today this blog was birthed into this world. So, in celebration of a year of learning, experimenting, experiencing, and even some achieved life goals, I ask you to please share something with me here.

 

Link your blog and other blogs you can recommend in the comments below. If you’re not into leaving comments, send me an email: davidwilliamjr@gmail.com

 

Dig through your RSS feeds and email lists. Or if there’s anything at all that gets you going, keeps your attention, challenges you, or anything at all. I’m looking to expand my fields of knowledge and interests, so please share generously!

 

 

Thank you for reading, engaging, and sharing.

To another year!

 

or How to Find, Build, and Live in an Unconventional Space

February 8th, 2012

 

By far the most common email I get is in response to my (recently former) warehouse living art space. Though my piece on not using shampoo for six months received over 40k views, I rarely ever get emails about that. Yet, I get at least 2-3 emails a week on how to find and how to live in a warehouse, so it has inspired me to compose this guide of sorts.

 

Tips on finding, building, and living in an unconventional space.

 

The search:

Okay, so first be sure you’re serious about this. In my experience, unconventional spaces come with a lot of patience testers and flexibility is a must. Bad landlords and rough neighborhoods are often just the start. Be warned.

Craigslist is a fine place to start. Search words like commercial, industrial, light industrial, warehouse, factory, post office, office spaces, malls, church, library, bomb shelter, horse stables,… You see the trend. Get creative here. Your future live in/art space is only limited by you.

Go beyond the web though. Drive or walk around the light industrial areas and commercial parts of town. A lot of the prime spaces never see the light of the internet. Either they dont know how to use it, or they just cant be bothered. Immigrant neighborhoods often have gems like this. While exploring new neighborhoods, the more decreptitude the better. You’re probably looking for cheap, so get adventurous. Live in a rough neighborhood for a year or two and you’ll likely realize it’s hardly as bad as everyone wants to believe. Theres a life lesson in there somewhere.

Its in your best interest to not interrupt the flow of your art and creation, so of course you’ll want things like a kitchenette, a toilet, a shower, a bed. Remember it’s only unusual if you act like its unusual. For you, it’s an essential part of any creative space.

Get friends involved. The more people to go in on this endeavor, the better. It will help keep costs down and surrounding yourselves with other creative folks will help you. Remember, show me your friends and I’ll show you your future.

 

Price:

This one can be tough, depending on your budget, amount of people involved, and locale. Remember most places are flexible on the rent so don’t be afraid to negotiate. Another suggestion I often have for people is for when you come across a space that is too huge for you. Talk to the person, see if you can put up divider walls to make the space you want to rent smaller and thus more affordable. I’ve seen it done. Also, ask them if they know of any smaller spaces available.

I managed to rent over 1500 square feet, plus a huge gated yard in one of the roughest neighborhoods of San Diego (hint: it was featured on Gangland). I split it with a friend. We paid $1400/ month. Total. Don’t let anybody tell you it isn’t possible.

 

 

What to tell the owner:

So you find an ideal spot, but you don’t know how to tell the landlord you want to live there. Well my advice: don’t! Remember, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides, artists keep strange hours. Let them know you’ll be coming and going at odd hours. in my experience they often expect you to end up living there, but it’s in their best interest to not know. Ignorance is bliss for you. And even if they confront you on it, deny it. You don’t live there. In extreme situations, keep an alternative address if you really need to sell the story. Of course, I’m not a lawyer and this isn’t all sound advice. Don’t be an asshole and you should be fine.

 

How to do the building (even if you aren’t a builder):

Pending your budget, you can always find willing affordable laborers at your nearest Home Depot. Support your local economies! Alright, so you want to do it yourself but you may not believe in yourself all that much… Well, get tough, hit google, then youtube, ask around, and be adventurous.

Really, most projects I’ve undertaken have been with limited initial knowledge. But since around here we believe in making our own damn luck, it’s time to buckle down and DIY. The folks at places like Lowes or Home Depot are more than willing to help you along. I had never built my own staircase from scratch, so I looked up some building strategies online, asked around for additional advice, took all the safety precautions necessary, and built a damn staircase strong enough to hold eleven elephants and dancing manatee.

Most stores offer discounts on slightly damaged building supplies. By that I simply mean drywall with chipped corners, wood cut strange sizes, etc. Everything you can use for a fraction of the price. Also look to barter or rent tools and services. Everyone’s hurting these days, so everything counts.

 

Move in and other living fun stuff:

There are plenty of people doing this stuff for a lot longer than I’ve been at it. I knew some guys who had an informal skatepark in their industrial loft. A friend of mine in Chicago rented an old VFW hall with a huge stage and 20 ft ceilings. I couchsurfed at a hip spot called the Nerditorium in Austin Texas, where a few guys turned a normal enough condo into a creativity incubator. A friend of mine in Colorado is building his place out of shipping containers. A family bought the library in my childhood hometown and turned in into a gorgeous house. In my studio I built a platform for a couch so we could have stadium seating for our projector theatre. We even had a surfboard shaping and glassing room. Get your space and share it back here. I’m certain there are plenty of spaces out there waiting for someone to get creative in them.

Dig around the web for more ideas. There are even Flickr groups dedicated to documenting unconventional living spaces, so steal some inspiration there!

 

Lastly:

If you have an unconventional living space, please get in touch with me. I’d like to keep connecting with folks that do this, and perhaps we can even collaborate on a future feature here! If you have any other questions or thoughts, let me know! davidwilliamjr@gmail.com

 

 

February 1st, 2012

The following is a firsthand account of true events that happened in 1986 in a small town near a lake. I have taken the liberty to edit the account slightly, for clarity, though full citations are listed below.

 

“I was the first person to come out of the area. I was with my daughter who came to spend holidays with me. It was getting late and we were sitting at the table reading, working on her schoolwork. Then she went to bed and fell asleep. I also went to bed without noticing any sign of anything. We didn’t have any sign of anything.

It was around midnight when I started feeling some heat. It felt as if rain was threatening to fall, so I got up from bed, and closed the windows. Then I went back to the house and went back to sleep. I was in a very deep sleep. I felt as if it were becoming hot. The start of the rainy season always comes with a hot first rain. Yes, I felt that feeling that very night.

Then I fell back to sleep. I heard some sound, something loud, like an airplane. It came and bounced with a boom. It was as if I was in a dream. I heard that noise as if I were dreaming…

All of a sudden my skin became very hot and I could smell something dry. I could not open my mouth because the terrible smell would enter my mouth. I could not speak. I just closed my mouth and remained silent. I soon became unconscious.

All of a sudden, I heard my daughter snoring in a terrible, very abnormal way. I forced myself to stand up from the bed, though I was already weak. I tried to see what was happening with my daughter and perhaps figure out what was smelling in the house. Just when I stood up, I fell. When walking over to my daughter’s bed, in the middle of the floor, I collapsed and fell again. I remained there on the floor since I couldn’t stand up. I was there until the morning. I don’t know whether I was sleeping, I don’t really know. I was there until a neighbor of mine came and knocked at my door. The door was locked, so he hit it loudly, with such force that he woke me. I heard it as if I was dreaming. I was surprised to see that my clothes were red. It looked as though they had some stains like honey. My arms had some wounds about the size of a quarter. I didn’t really know how I got these wounds, or where they came from. My face, too, had some wounds, these marks. They seemed to bleed slowly. I finally managed to stand, and eventually, to open the door. I was unable to speak. I wanted to speak, but my breath would not come out. I stood in silence for some time. My friend was talking, asking me a question, but my voice would not come out. I was breathing abnormally…

My daughter was already dead. I didn’t know that she was dead. I thought she was still sleeping. It was almost noon. I drank some milk and water, and fell back to sleep. I went to my daughter’s bed, thinking that she was still sleeping. I slept until the early evening. I slept with my daughter, not knowing that she was already dead. When I recovered enough, I stood up to clear my senses. I still felt as if I was dreaming. I never knew what was happening until I went outside. Everywhere was quiet, I managed to go over to my many of my neighbors’ houses.

They were all dead. I tried my neighbors’ doors. They were bolted from the inside. I shouted through the window, but I saw them all lying motionless on the floor. I went to my neighbors house, the one who came and knocked at my door. I went to him and I saw him resting the same way as I had. He was just lying on the bed. He told me that he could not stand up. I knew I had to go back to my house.

 

When I arrived home, I saw that my daughter was already dead. It was starting to get dark. I felt that I had a little strength so I knew I had to leave. The rest of my family was in a neighboring town, so I decided to go to them. I thought that this thing must have happened all over and most my family may already be dead. I thought that if I am dying, I will die on the way. I walked to my garage. When I just started my motorcycle, I heard the sound of the engine and it was quite normal.

I tied a shirt around my face, to use as a mask in case of any smell. I went to my neighbors house and carried him on my shoulders to my motorcycle. I rode thirty-six miles to the nearest town to find help. My hands felt frozen when I reached the hospital. My body was completely weak…

When I rode through my town, I didn’t see any sign of any living thing; the only other person was that friend that I carried.”

 

In August of 1981, Lake Nyos suddenly emitted a large cloud of CO2, which suffocated 1,700 people and 3,500 livestock in nearby towns and villages almost immediately. There were only six survivors in Nyos.

 

 

So what would you do if you woke up and everyone you knew was dead?

 

 

http://www.geo.arizona.edu/geo5xx/geos577/projects/kayzar/html/lake_nyos_disaster.html

http://www.geology.sdsu.edu/how_volcanoes_work/Nyos.html

http://www.semp.us/publications/securitas_reader.php?SecuritasID=24