Yup (I tried to post this at UWC but I still can't sign in)

I know everyone else has had their own little post somewhere along the way about Reality TV. Personally, I don't have a huge problem with it. It's an important reflection of what America deems important. It's important to note these things as an artist or a writer.
But...

Tonight I watched fifteen minutes of the most incredible show I've ever seen.

The show is called The Swan. Now I realize that this blog is part of the reason this show was created. It's watercooler jizzim. People will talk about it tomorrow in their (for you Jared) cornflower blue ties (the Queen Bee is their slave). The premise: Women undergo drastic reconstructive face and body surgery. Big deal you say. I've learned after being rejected by grad school after grad school that you must have a twist. Something to stir them up. The Shock of the New. After the surgery the women then compete in a beauty competition. If the contestants work hard enough, and are perseverant enough, they will continue to the next round. This is recking my brain, or preserving it, or improving it. I haven't decided yet.

God is omniscient and omnipotent. Everything is written already, right? It's just hard to comprehend. This would mean God made these women "ugly" so that they would be chosen to be on this show to undergo this mutilation of their bodies. It's so much to chew on. (Chewing the fat seemed too satirical) Is this a bad thing? Technology allows us to change our bodies, our minds, our relationships, our lives.

The women do not see themsleves in a mirror until the show airs. They consistently do not recognize themselves. I can't begin to imagine the psychosomatic implications of this. The last women was wearing a wig, or hair extensions, fake eyelashes, fake boobs and probably fake Gucci. She wept. It is difficult for her mind to adjust to this. It takes all she has to wimper, " I...I look beautiful." One can not help but think of Narcisuss.

But why not? We cut our hair, we buy new clothes, we walk and talk differently to gain acceptance. Why not cut our noses off, or our ears? Why not eat the lipstick? Eat our paints? Perhaps I'd write better if ink flowed between my veins forcing my words to bleed onto the page with accuracy and poignancy. Maybe then, I'd be able to leave marks on my canvas that do not heal, are not forgotten, but rather scar, leaving their mark on the world. The problem is, if this scar is in an unfavorable place (the only place artwork should be), the world can easily undergo surgery to remove my legacy.

UWC

So, I admit it too. I haven't finished the damn thing. I read the assignment the night before the post is due so that it will be fresh in my head. You can not read Force of Law the night before. Generally I'm enjoying it. I'm fond of his oratory style. If you have ever read anything that Gerhard Richter has written or said it's very similiar. Well founded, direct, thorough or at least the illusion of it. Would it be fair to say, "Hey Cap'n, how come you spent 86 hours redesigning your blog when you could have been finishing the damn thing." Well maybe that's why I can't be the Provost or the Bursar. The Art Dept. runs differently. I apologize genuinely for my lack of posting. I yearn to write a substantial post on anything but it just hasn't been coming. I will not assume full responsibility for this inadequacy. I'm blaming it soley on Kevin Baker. I've been reading this damn Dreamland now for about a month. This is a very long time for me to be laboring over a stupid book. It's like Adam Robinson says. The pages of good books seem to disappear from your right hand and grow in your left while the pages of OK books lie stagnate in your right hand rotting in their own mediocrity. Well this book isn't bad enough to put down and start something else, but it's not good enough to pick up. This promotes mediocre posts. Damn ye Kevin Baker. In a matter of days, I will have the privilege of reading Men of Maize. This book is sure to change my life, as well as my posts.
My prediction:
1. Readers will be thirsting for those old days of mediocrity.
2. Cap'n Pete will be sailing full steam towards Coney Island, in pursuit of prose that sets compasses.

Untitled is a Title and No Style Becomes Your Style

I like the way Derrida pronounces Legi-Timacy.

I didn't get into Skowehegan. They received 1400 applications for approximately 35 spots.

Cornell is accepting ONE student into their Graduate program this year. I'll find out if that opening is for me this week.

I made a note about a dog giving another dog a portion of it's food in the margin of Force of Law but now, I can't remember why.

Destruction is a necessary part of creation. It's what Cain was to Abel.

It's especially weird to pick my font. My individuality has 96 options.

I'll probably do it again, at another time, with better words and less pictures.

If you're looking to advertise, you're free to do it here.

I think I'd get into school if my name were Augusto Rao Bastos, or Cap'n Pete.

Might want to feel for these things, let them send themselves shined up, stamp and all.