Walrus vs Sea Cow 30 in by 29 in

Not the most remarkable material but it was fun to draw something that big on the inside of a cardboard box.

Truth Norms Based On Relationship Context

Truth Norms Based on Relationship Context

 

      "Honesty is the best policy" -Sir Edwin Sandys was perhaps responsible for the original sentiment, and then Benjamin Franklin transposed it into a more current English form. I agree with this policy as a general policy. However, we don't owe all truths to everyone at all times. What we owe to each other when it comes to truth and information sharing is based on relationship context. The reason I lump truth and information together, is the potential for lying (directly deceiving) or omitting relevant information (deception by omission). If pressed on a fact that you do not have a normative requirement to divulge, one should say “I’m not going to talk about that with you” rather than actively giving information that you know is wrong (lying).

 

      A problem we will run into repeated infinitum in our lives is that we may not share the same norms around truth and information sharing as other people. I would argue that we should talk these things out with people around us, tell them our personal norms and inquire about theirs. Then we can come to some compromise and at least have a basis of expected norms (whether people adhere to these or not is another problem, but we can at least start from a base of agreement). Shared culture results in shared norms. Two Catholics who go to the same church service on Sunday can expect a fair amount of normative overlap. Which is certainly not to imply people should only associate within their own culture. This is just something to be mindful of when getting to know people from different cultures.

 

       There is no requirement to tell other people's truths, except in situations where you are acting as a collective. If someone asks what Joe did, we don't owe others that information, and in fact based on the relationship it would be morally right to conceal that information out of a sense of loyalty. In certain cases, there is, of course, a legal obligation to tell the truth. This one is a normative line you must work out for yourself and discuss within your relationships for mutual understanding and acceptance.

 

      Public figures who are entertainers do not owe you any honesty inherently. The reason I say this is because I put the onus on the listener to understand that entertainers are dishonest brokers by default and not meant to be taken seriously. The problem and hypocrisy come when these entertainers claim to be honest and open with their fans. Some claim to provide "more honest" alternatives to "less honest" forms of entertainment. Those people do owe honesty to their listeners because they claim it. Certain podcasters claim they are more honest than radio or talk show hosts simply based on the format. What are the limits of this? Surely, they are always entitled some amount of private life aside from that which they make public.

 

      Public figures that work for the public owe citizens the truth about what they are doing in their public facing job. However, as evidenced many times over dishonesty in these positions is common. At the worst in common measure there is a completely anti-public sentiment. Cynically, it seems the best we can hope for in most cases is partially acting in the public good. These people (are supposed to) work for the public if not in a universal sense at least for their own constituents.

Some would separate the friend from the family relationship. To me they are one in the same. This is the deepest relationship, and you owe more to these friends that you do people you share other relationships with. I would argue you owe each other criticism (constructive feedback) which is not to be confused with insult (nothing constructive). Friends should help each other get better behind the scenes preparing each other for exposure to the broader world. If we are criticizing, or conveying sensitive information, this should be done privately. Not in public or in a group. We should not "put people on blast" in this way when we have a friendship with them. There is also the concern of "does this information matter?" Is this criticism information for a person to improve their life or job, does it help them get closer to their goals? If yes then we should let them know, if not then what is the point of criticizing, really? We shouldn't just pick their ass for no reason.

 

      You owe a co-worker communication as far as is required for each other to do their job, as it affects them. Nothing more. There are natural restraints on what you can divulge based on your job’s confidentiality rules. There is a moral obligation to follow these rules because it is an established norm. We should apply the categorical imperative to this.

 

Let us say you have an enemy or even someone to whom there is no obligation to tell the truth. It is okay to conceal information from them; you do not owe them anything. Is it right to conceal this from them, or is there a moral imperative to let someone know they are your enemy? If there is an event that makes it clear that there is a conflict then this should be enough to let someone know they are not your friend, and the norms of friendship no longer apply.

 

       What we owe to each other when it comes to truth and information is based on relationship context. This is just addressing the moral side of the argument. Of course, psychology teaches us that people lie and omit relevant truths for many different reasons, and we should have an awareness of this. We should model better behaviour to make whatever culture we are part of a more consistent one.

 

 

Broken

 

Eyeclops

Sandwich Man

Raps

 

Toss

 

Dragon

 

Fair vs Unfair Criticism

                                                              Fair vs Unfair Criticism

I stumbled into the world of YouTube criticism channels by accident. Those that criticize comedians and those that criticize prizefighters. Two of my interests. At first look I thought these were just jealous people hating on those who were successful and nitpicking every little thing. Certainly perfection wouldn't be a reasonable standard would it? Over time I came to appreciate that some of this was holding powerful people accountable, which is probably a public good. The channels also carved out a niche of levying certain relevant criticisms that journalists in a given industry would not make for fear of damaging certain relationships. Of course there was a mix from unfair and ad hominem criticisms to ones that were pretty reasonable. My point being is some of the criticism is crap and some is of a high quality. We should not dismiss it ALL in generalization as people just being haters.

There is a difference between serious criticism and jokes. A joke is not meant to be taken seriously. It is not what the speaker REALLY thinks. Criticism is taking a serious position. As in you MEAN what you say it is NOT a joke. When the critic or comedian is being unclear, it is reasonable that the speaker can be criticised in both ways. Also, critics should accept they are ALSO going to be criticized. You are not beyond being criticised (or even disliked) because you are a journalist or saying what you believe is the truth. Criticism flows in all directions.

If we are talking about media criticism it is generally based on individual taste and opinion which is subjective. This is not to say that all criticism is "just opinion." It is more there is a spectrum from more subjective to less to even objective. For example: criticizing writing for creating characters that are "not likeable" is pretty subjective. Criticizing writing for improper spelling, grammar and punctuation is closer to objective (unless it is a stylist choice to break those standards in a specific instance). Opinion is more subjective. Fact is objective. Criticism may mix opinion with fact.

On reading minds and inferring what someone else is thinking / intentions. We cannot read minds. Speculating on what someone is thinking or their secret intentions... This is a form of criticism people are drawn to. We want to say "ah-hah! gotcha!" and believe that there are secrets to uncover in this way. It is really difficult to do this well, and most of it is pretty sloppy. We have to establish a baseline of behaviour for the subject (how do they act usually? are they deviating from their normal patterns?) As someone taking in this form of speculation take it as having very low evidentiary value, and that many of the points made could probably have reasonable alternative explanation. At least compare it to other possible explanations.

A last point on my personal taste: I enjoy rude jokes but I don't enjoy people just being rude. This seems to be a prevalent strategy in YouTube video criticism. There is a difference between an inciteful (but painful to hear to the subject) criticism, or a snappy one-liner and just being a jerk. There are a critics who are also fans, and this kind of rudeness just for the sake of rudeness makes one appear to be a spoiled brat crying about some minor thing in this awesome film they watched. It should be allowed, of course, it's just something I find gross but I wouldn't censor it.

Sheyes

 

Cream of Barley

 

Cream of Barley

 

Two days without eating. It was my first day on the job moving furniture for some catalog retailer that since disappeared in the dank shady online rainforests wet smearing their pages. I got the spins and the shakes there wasn’t much in there, so the heaving was dry. Paid in cash that was the eleventh-hour finale. Delirious state between consciousness and dreams. The only time cream of barley soup was delectable.

Night Bench

 

Night Bench

Orange glow of the streetlight beaming moths slow dancing. No contemplation, just a human camera taking in blues and indigo hues in smooth sultry moves. Couldn’t sleep the city was a respite from the sauna inside, swirls of air. Autumn gently refreshing. That was before all urban areas were people tripping over each other streaming fire hydrant exploding like out of every door, corner and manhole. Sitting on the bench alone decompressed.

A Job

 

A Job

 

I was between jobs and didn’t really know what to do. I went for a run around the block. Huffing and puffing I double climbed the stairs back to my apartment. A moustachioed man was banging hard on the next door. I shakingly turned my key to my tiny fortress of solitude. Would you like a job?

Bashful

Eyeballs

 

Eyeballs

 

I had a cat. I fed it what the vet told me to feed it. But it always cocked its head at me when I would nosh some kind of flesh, with ravenous laser beams aimed at my meal. Mrrow.

 

I always had this nagging apprehension that my cat would scratch the hell out of my eyeballs blinding me while I slept if I let it sleep in the same room. Not intentionally of course, just stretching in the way that an animal does. An animal does what feels good without thought to the consequences. I don’t know how people are comfortable letting their cat sleep with them. Therefore, I always closed the door to my bedroom with my cat outside when I slept. Locked it as well. If some cats can use the toilet maybe they can manipulate door handles as well. They never told me if the cats flushed afterwards…

 

Met a woman once at this park playing out of tune chords. She had the hygiene of Kurt Kobain. She stretched out like a feline awakening from a nap after her strums. I was feeling frisky, so I brought her to my apartment and petted her until she purred. An animal does what feels good without thought to the consequences. That was when I had my second son. His mother didn’t stay long after. Prowled the dusk and howled at the twilight cycles. The cat didn’t come back the very next day. I just figured she was a goner.

 

I didn’t mind things were easier just the four of us.

 

One summer, my sons were staying with their grandmother in Dog Walk (Kentucky). It was just me and the purring slit-eyed predator.

 

He was hungry that day. I was screwing in a lightbulb, up on a shaky step stool. He galloped into its side feigning clumsiness, but it knew the intentional malevolence. I smashed my thin skull against the side of the coffee table and that was all she wrote.

 

They found a man with two empty slots in his skull. The open door creaked sneakily.

 

How was this story transcribed? History is written by the victor.

Greek Family

 

Rock Collector

                                                                              Rock Collector

Danny was a rock collector. Danny would go around the neighbourhood collecting rocks. Orange red as the morning sun. Layered like a dirt cake. Jagged as an armored porcupine. He had discerning taste, not every typical stone would make the cut. He lived in a small town near the outskirts of Tuscon, Arizona. I can't remember the name. Some dusty collection of gravel mazes not yet gridded by a city planner. The point being it was terrestrially diverse.

Mom and dad worked nights. They weren't around after school. Danny was free to explore. It was the 80s, that's just how you raised children. Don't judge. Sometimes Danny would come across the things other little boys hoped to find hand guns, fireworks, porno mags. Once, he passed up a pair of nunchucks. He only had eyes for rocks. His vision narrow of focus in the way that happens when you stare at a colored pencil drawing for too long. Those cool deep purple skied evenings searching.

He would store the stones in his closet. His mother complained. What are you doing with all that gravel? You are going to give yourself asthma with all that clay dust! One summer when Danny was visiting his grandparents in Tuscaloosa, mom emptied out Danny's collection. Danny was inconsolable for a month of dried out tears, that didn't really wet his face. More like some painful facial contractions in the Arizona air.

It wouldn't be long before Danny recollected. Mom found out a threw a few at Danny in frustration. Fissures in his hard head. Cracks on his pyramid.

When Danny grew up he became a boonie hat wearing geologist. He travelled the world working for various environmental research groups, archeologists and treasure hunters (the dignified name for thieves). He kept adding to his collection as he travelled the world, and finding more novel bits of the earth. His spine curved from carrying the weight. He joked that he was half-man half-mule and all hoarder. Humour turns insanity into charm. Wit dry as a tanned hide.

Finally, Danny was satisfied he found all the interesting stones after overlapping the globe's hotspots a few times over. That is when he retired to his tannish-grey walled second floor walk up. He was looking over his collection one day. It fell over. Rattling as an earthquake. Not a stone touched him, but the tremor caused him to go into shock and get cardiac arrested.

Centuries later in a world that you couldn't imagine a small child uncovered a fossil. The local news claimed it as an unmarked grave.

Creamination

 

Creamanation

 

“I’m capable of anything, my imagination could give me wings to fly like doves over the streets watching many things” -Nas

What if imagining things created them one to one?

We would have to be very careful about our thoughts. Would we have the contrary ability to delete things that we created? Would it be like drawing or creating babies? Drawing is easier to erase, babies… there is a greater barrier to deletion.

There would be a spectrum of level of ability, some people can imagine things with greater detail and some less. Some would create vague shadowy sketches and some bold watercolours saturating the canvas with feeling.

David Hume would say that we cannot imagine anything we have not experienced in reality. We can combine experiences in novel ways (like putting a horn on a horse) but we cannot create something that is not part of a composite we have already experienced. We can certainly combine things in such complex ways that we could create something that appears alien. Yet, I agree with Hume that this is just a collage of previous sensory input.

There are The Secret people and manifesters. What is happening here is that when you focus your mind on something you notice it more. If you’ve been thinking about purchasing a white Ford Bronco for months, you will notice them more often. It doesn’t mean you are drawing them towards you. Visualization has a powerful effect in that concentrating on something helps maximize your confidence and abilities, whereas disbelieving saps this energy. You still have to put in the work to make it happen, but it will be easier if you believe it will happen than if you doubt.

People have all these bullshit theories of how to create, as if it is something mystical. Just try, and fail and try and fail, and try and succeed, and try and fail some more. It’s not magic; it’s machination. Just create, don’t be afraid to suck, don’t be afraid to win. You will definitively suck. You will win if you keep going….

Within reason.

A diminutive paraplegic will not play point guard for the NBA.

I see things before they happen. I can’t see dead people. I can see myself eating a peach in the school lunchroom area. Then it happened. Déjà vu. Mundane clairvoyance. Once, I pictured a friend saying “Hey Luke,” and I responding, “Hey Jude.” Jude continued, “How’s it going?” Give me a nametag that says, “Hello my name is: Ras pucking putin.”

 

Hair Fire

 

Falling In

 

These are the Excuses

                                                          These are the Excuses

The street noise is driving me crazy. My back hurts. My neck hurts. I fear paralysis. I fear disability. I have to shit. I have to piss. I'm too old, I'm too young. Can you catch some contradiction? My speech is slurred. I only breathe with my mouth open. 

Otherwise, I don't breathe.

Somebody's talking, and I'm so sure they're saying something stupid. I sit, my hips hurt. I stand, my knees hurt. I walk away trying to escape my pain. But you don't hide in the closet when your clothes are strangling you...

Nobody cared, and I didn't either. I should have fixed my problems back in high school. I just pushed everyone away. You should've embraced me when I did this, should have smothered me, overpowered me. My hard head was stronger.

These are the excuses. I don't make them, I set them aside. For no excuse will defeat me, I just figure out how to deal with it, how to get around it, how to solve it. I smile. Then I get it done.

Khmer

 

LT