Secret Still

I bought a small bag of Cheez-its from a vending machine today with a quarter from 1965, and in the time it took  me to walk from my desk to the vending machine, I thought about the small artifacts we ignore. That quarter, which has now become part of a pile of quarters, was minted the year my parents were married. That was the first real year of their lives; just graduated from high school and starting college,  fresh off an elopement and honeymoon to Mexico, loving each other more than could believe, living in a crappy apartment in Baton Rouge, Louisiana with almost no money to their name, and just being so happy about it. It’s possible that my dad put gas in his 1956 Olds Special with the quarter that I held in my hands today. He could’ve driven my mom to the woods and walked down some old dirt road while holding her hand, because of that quarter. And that quarter continued to make the same small things possible in people’s lives for the last 45 years.

The point is that, regardless of its given worth based on public opinion, an artifact itself can be worth more than the sum of its parts. So to speak. An artifact can have meaning instead of just worth, it represents everything that everyone has ever believed about it, and everything that has resulted because of its existence. All day today I’ve been listening to music at Left is Rain, and it’s all great, and there is so much of it, but I miss the artifacts. I’m definitely not the kind of person who hates digital music, very far from it. I just can’t help but remember how amazing it was when I found my parents stash of old, forgotten records, and played them for myself on our turntable. And those records must have meant so many things to my parents, too. Maybe they listened to Blood, Sweat, and Tears while they were sitting around their little trailer on the lake in Alabama, the sun was out,  it was Saturday, and everything was gonna be fine. The music is the most important part, but we also can’t forget that the record itself comes to represent those memories, and even more, that whole period of their lives.

The point of all of this was originally that you should go to Left is Rain and just let it play through all 700 -some-odd songs, and have yourself a fine time doing it. But that stupid quarter got me wistful, and a little sad that the digital age doesn’t offer much in the way of artifacts. Even these words are going to just vanish into nothing someday, because they were never really here. It makes things seem not only less permanent, but less meaningful. But hey, I’ve got a woman I love and my parent’s old Blood, Sweat and Tears record at home; I can make memories of my own.

Left as Rain

More than a few years ago, when I was still in college, I was home from school for the weekend and me and my friends, as usual, were taking extremely high doses of LSD and seeing how long we could survive. For some reason a consensus was reached that we should go to a house party where there were people we knew. I drove at night in the rain and only avoided crashing because the lines on the road reflected the light back so severely that I thought the road was on fire and I was trying not to melt the tires. We walked in to a breakdance battle where I believe someone mimed throwing a Street Fighter style fireball at their opponent. It cemented my understanding of the innate ridiculousness of being anything at all. One good thing to come out of that party was that we re-met Staci Janik. We knew her from high school, but she was there and she UNDERSTOOD us; not easily done by a many people at that point. We adopted her into our group (whether she wanted it or not) right then and there. She became The Girl. We already had The Little Girl, and Staci is too tall for that name anyway. We all loved her (did you know that, Staci?) in our individual ways, and she brought us new ideas in return. You would think that after all that, I would be biased, but luckily for me I’m too much of an asshole to ever be biased by love.

SO. It gives me nothing but joy to tell you about the design work of Staci Janik, a person who can never stop being a part of my family. Her work is simple, uncluttered, and beautiful. I can nerd out on her type choices, I can sit back and enjoy her layout, and more than that I can see her style in every stitch. It’s all classy yet playful and beguiling, like an Audrey Hepburn smile or that one little cloud sailing all by itself in miles of empty, bright blue sky. I don’t need to say much more than that. The Girl understands.

Staci Janik

I’ve been blogging for over 12 years now. Before Blogger was even a glimmer, my dumb ass was writing stupid 10th grade poetry on the internet and talking about my feelings. Once I realized how much of a giant, walking vagina this made me, and it took a while, I started to write about art instead. I picked up a spray can a long time ago and realized in a blinding flash of insight that I was total crap with it. But what I lacked in talent I made up for with a keen eye and the wit of a glue-huffing thirteen year-old, a sense of humor that I fight hard to maintain to this day. So I wrote about the things I thought were beautiful on the internet, and tried to swear as much as possible at the same time. It got me a cool job for a little while, but for the most part I’ve been doing it without help and without recognition for a long ass time. That’s what Secret Still is, a secret, something that not a lot of people know about, because I never wanted them to know about it. I never wanted help or a handshake, and yet here we are. Starting today I’d like help finding out about things.

If you’re an “emerging artist” (I know, I hate that term, too), or know of one that I should check out, just let me know. If you have a zine or something that you want people to know about, just send me one. I want to find out about so much beautiful shit that it gives me cancer of the balls (too soon?), and I need your help to do it. Can I guarantee that I’ll like whatever it is you send me? No, but those are the chances you take.

Notice, if you will the left side of this page, and you will see that there is now an archive dropdown, a category dropdown, and an About page. For the first time in my selfish life I want to make things a little easier on you, the reader.

Consider this Secret Still 2.0. And now, back to your regularly scheduled dick jokes.

I’m pretty picky about what I add to the blogroll over there to the left. Really the list is for me, because I hate RSS feeds, so that I can check all of those sites listed everyday. Yes, everyday. So it takes a lot for me to add a site. I have to decide that, “yeah, I could read that everyday.” Today sees a new addition to the list in the name of Leslie Miles. Is Leslie Miles a person? I don’t know. The only thing I know about Leslie Miles is that it’s the name of a blog that features a series of beautiful images based on a single theme for each post. It’s simple, elegant, visually interesting, and inspiring. I can’t ask for more than that from any website. Welcome to the family, Leslie Miles; expect at least one hit a day from over this way.

Leslie Miles

I’m back from my holiday hiatus, and aren’t you all just chomping at the bit for all my glorious words? I’ve got a lot of catching up to do at the day job, because surprise surprise a website without ads that no one reads doesn’t pay off my student loans. I don’t have any best of 2008 posts, or how the world will change in 2009 bullshits. I can tell you what to expect from Secret Still in the fourth to last year of human civilization: more of the same. In addition to the normal content, whose awesomeness is responsible for spontaneous pregnancies around the globe, there will also be a long overdue site re-design, a monthly (hopefully) mixtape/podcast type thing, maybe some additional writers, and almost definitely some random photos of my sexiness. Stick with me for another year, because Krishna knows you’ve got nothing better to do once the porn runs out. And the porn always runs out. Regular posting resumes tomorrow. Until then, here’s a video to start your year off with a little more beauty.

Happy New Year by Electrabel

In lieu of new Daily Video links today (I’ll leave yesterday’s up), I’ve decided to do a post on some interesting video sources. The key to this post is that I like to learn. No, I love to learn. I can’t stop myself. The internet, in it’s ever-evolving attempts to disseminate knowledge to the far corners of the Earth, has brought to my attention a few excellent resources for learning more than you could ever want to know about the world and the ideas that shape it. Check out my short list after the jump.
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So I ran into a few things today that weren’t big enough to warrant their own post. Surprisingly they’re all music related, so that’s nice. It’s nice when things go together. Nice.

Aesop Rock Interviews Del the Funky Homosapien. I have loved Del since I was 2 feet shorter and had no pubes. There’s a guy that I pass on the street sometimes that looks a lot like him and I want to say what’s up. I don’t. If it were really Del (it’s not) I would have to cry. That motherfucker is my Beatles. Bring on the new Deltron 3030 album, dammit!

Lupe Fiasco - Cold World. The first single from his new album. Sounds like this one is gonna be a banger for sure.

Chester French. These two Cambridge boys just got signed by Pharell Williams. Why? Because they are actually pretty good. Even if they’re pictures all look a little douchbagesque.

I won’t be around tomorrow. I’ve got an early appointment to find out if they can shoot lasers into my eyes. They’ll be surprised to learn that I can shoot lasers out of my eyes. LASER EYE BATTLE! Then I get those awesome wrap-around, bakelite sunglasses that old people wear. Stylish. If you’re lucky I’ll take a picture for you.

Not feelin it today. You know how Fridays are. I’m just talkin to myself anyway. See ya Monday. Maybe.

I’ve got stuff to post today, but I’m not going to. How does that feel, readership? All five of you can cry yourselves to sleep tonight on your musty pillows. How can musty and lusty sound so similar and yet be so completely opposite in meaning? Well, I can tell that this could turn into a ramble so I’m cutting it off. Enjoy this picture of a scrotal hernia. I am gonna get a lot more traffic now that I’ve said scrotal hernia. The wonders of marketing.

It’s the last day of a particularly grueling work week, and I’m so burnt from work I’m just gonna load you up with daily videos and send you on your way. I did want to mention this Flickr stream that I came across thanks to ffffound. The user, Kyu Hwang, has some nice little drawings to weirden up your day. I didn’t want to leave you with nothing. Your approval is all I’ve got going for me. That and a superior penis. If I lose those I’m nothing.

Kyu Hwang