Late night photo session, Pasadena

Aliens made me do it, they got inside my head

You lie back on the couch and hit play. Surrounded by your noise-canceling headphones track one begins. As you listen to the entire album start to finish, the music coming at you from every angle, attacking you, you start to think, some one created this. To me it’s just a recording, some bits on a microchip, but someone played those notes, sang those lyrics, wrote that music, created those words. It didn’t exist before a brief moment, a flash in their mind. Somehow from nothingness, to a burst of creativity, to what I am listening to. It hits my brain and I know to enjoy it. If that isn’t some alien shit, I don’t know what is.

Talking shit about a pretty sunset

Connectitude

Steven Pressfield wrote The War of Art, a book which I heard recommended on a podcast. I purchased the book, gave it a read, and it changed the way I approach writing. I have since recommended the book to others, who have in turn recommended it, and so on. Recently I sat down to write and thought, “my writing process is directly linked to people who are completely unaware”. What I mean by that is, if Pressfield hadn’t written the book and it hadn’t been recommended on that podcast, I wouldn’t approach the task of writing the way I do today, yet neither have any idea of the influence they’ve had on me. As my recommendation has been passed on, I too may have had a small influence on a piece of a stranger’s life. The chain of connection will continue to grow as the recommendation continues to be passed on unbeknownst to those who it originated with. It’s a strange concept to think how connected we can be to those we have never met.

My vagina is ringing

“Someone must be talking about you”, that’s what people say when you tell them your ears are ringing. What if other parts of the body had the same power. Can you imagine if every time someone watched a pornographic film the participant’s genitals started ringing? “My vagina is ringing”, “someone must be watching that interracial threesome you did”. What interesting conversation that would produce.

Ramblings of a Madman

his fault, we don’t understand
talks of quirks, quarks, and quasars
ramblings of a madman

indecipherable shorthand
piano music for guitars
his fault, we don’t understand

dancing with the sandman
recalls in his memoirs
ramblings of a madman

from society he is banned
for his safety and for ours
his fault, we don’t understand

claims I am the spaceman
seen the heavens, traveled the stars
ramblings of a madman

his mind considered a wasteland
his writings fill bell jars
his fault, we don’t understand
ramblings of a madman

Mornings

A spring or summer day, I can’t remember for sure. The sun hasn’t been up long, no curtains on the windows, morning light gently touching us with a hint of warmth. A slight breeze makes the warm sheets feel especially good against my skin, they smell fresh, clean, hopeful. As she lays beside me not yet awake, I look at her, the gentle flows of her body, so peaceful. Jealous she is still able to sleep, yet thankful I get to watch. These mornings I think about the future, about all the mornings we’ll awake like this. Those mornings, now just memories.

LA and Santa Barbara

Early this year I spent sometime in downtown LA and Santa Barbara with my camera. Apparently I never posted any of the photos. I came across them the other day and decided to share.

Enjoy.

Document this

Detroit is a dying city, it’s decaying, and everyone is leaving. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard on the news. Images of abandoned dilapidated buildings, empty streets, an almost post-apocalyptic scene. Then I came across a short documentary called Detroit Lives, hosted by Johnny Knoxville, available free on vbs.tv. This short film combats what we are seeing in the media, showing the other side of Detroit. The communities that are fighting their way back, the artists that are moving in, the urban farming that is popping up. A high school with all the windows broken out, clearly no longer in use, is a building that has been used by many media outlets to show the decay in Detroit. What they don’t show is the beautiful new high school building next door that replaced it. Documentaries are a genre of film that I feel are largely overlooked. Very few documentaries become mainstream and get large exposure. Maybe it’s because we are afraid we might actually learn something from them. This short Detroit documentary shows why they are so important. Thanks to the passion and vision of a group of filmmakers, the positive side of a terrible situation has been brought to light.

Hank La Lloyd

a dingy tied to a dock
appears neglected
unused

I call him Hank
short for Henry
seems to fit

engine is stubborn
puts up a fight
he’s unfazed

marlboro red
steely dan
gets to work

finally a sputter
long pull from a silver can
spent butt now fish food

out into the harbor
six pack passenger
he’s home.

Gravity can't stop us

From the window of my plane the ground was barely visible. The captain came on the loudspeaker and informed us that we had reached our cruising altitude of somewhere just over 30,000 feet. Humans aren’t supposed to be up in the air like that, gravity should prevent it. In Stephen Hawkins’ Grand Design, he speaks at length about the gravity in our universe and how gravitational pulls are responsible for much of the creation of the universe. They hold planets in orbit, draw particles together that form new elements, even cause stars to collapse in on themselves causing black holes. While reading all of this it occurred to me that humans have beat nature. Earth’s gravity naturally pulls us towards the Earth or more specifically towards the ground. At some point humans decided that this was unacceptable and they stood up. Defying gravity we now stood upright, learning to use our muscles to balance out nature trying to pull us back to the ground. Then we took it one step further, for whatever reason a human decided to jump, leaving the earth, going in the opposite direction of gravity. Now we have done the ultimate fuck you to gravity and found a way to soar through the sky. We are not built to fly, we don’t have wings, yet we do it anyway. We’ve become so cocky we actually fly out of the earth’s atmosphere, completely negating nature’s plan for us to remain on earth. For billions of years nature has been using gravity to create this amazingly complex universe and in just a short time we as humans have decided that those laws of gravity don’t apply to us, now that is some extreme arrogance.

Sunglasses day

Earlier this year I took a creative writing class, I've decided to finally share a few of my pieces from that class. On Mondays for the next few weeks I will be posting a new piece. Here is the first piece. Please be gentle. Enjoy.



A Sunglasses Day


A long day, collapsing on the couch, exhausted, starving, I can’t remember if I had lunch. I weigh my options, all of them involve movement, none satisfactory. She’s picking one up from ballet, the other from a friend’s, they’ve surely eaten, waiting isn’t going to solve my problem. If it were the fifties, she would have greeted me at the door, my meal warming in the oven, if not, tomorrow would be a sunglasses day. They’re home, bounding through the door, showing me toys from the happy meals they had for dinner, my stomach eating itself at the smell of salt and grease emanating from the plastic figurines. Now off to bed, she follows to tuck them in. Again I sit alone, still hungry.

Sweating the small stuff

A week in Joplin Missouri post tornado will put things in perspective. When I first got there I was still thinking about myself, that I didn’t want to be there, I would rather be at home, that I could be golfing right now. After hearing the stories, seeing the people, seeing the destruction, you start to realize how short life is. In just a few minutes so many people lost their homes, their cars, all of their belongings, their way to make a living, and sadly some lost their lives. In the blink of an eye their entire lives were turned upside down. It makes being stressed about the fact that my brakes are making a terribly embarrassing noise, or that my apartment feels too small, or that I can’t hit a drive straight down the fairway consistently, seem ridiculous. You feel silly for having let those become stresses. Unfortunately, for the human brain it’s out of sight out of mind sometimes, just hours from returning home I got in my car and the squealing started and I got irritated and annoyed that I still had to deal with the situation. Maybe I should have done like the 21 year-old volunteer from Chicago I met, and got a Joplin tattoo on my forearm to help me remember to not sweat the small stuff.

Four missionaries and a Honda

I turned the corner into my parent’s neighborhood and I saw the four of them converging on a Honda Civic. All of them in matching black slacks, white short-sleeved button-down shirts, black ties, and LDS name tags. As they all climbed into the Civic I wondered what the car ride conversations of four Mormon missionaries must be like. When I get into a car with three of my male friends the conversations usually consist of things that I don’t think would be appropriate for missionaries. There is quite a bit of swearing, fuck is a word of choice for many of us, there is talk of drinking, cage fighting, sex, masturbating, the impressive shit you took that morning, amongst other things. These topics obviously accompany many other normal conversations but inevitably one or more of these topics come up. As much as I would love for it to be true, I can’t picture a Mormon missionary talking about rubbing one out in the shower after taking a satisfying dump. Just for a day I want to be the pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror of the missionary-mobile and hear what subjects fill their conversations.

One hundred and counting

On December 29th, 2009 I posted my first entry on my new blog; my last entry was my 100th. In the year and a half since I started this blog it has changed quit a bit. It began as a place for me to share my random thoughts and observations I’d been saving in my Blackberry notes, now I post my writing, videos I’ve produced, and photos I’ve taken. I no longer even use the Blackberry that started it all, though I still have it in case I ever need to look at those old notes. I have always written with the mindset that no one is reading so as not to censor myself or pull any punches, but to the few of you that do read this, I would like to say thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy what I am doing.

A day in the desert

After some tweaks to the race car and the acquisition of a new GoPro camera ANJ Motorsports took to the desert last weekend to continue to prepare for the Baja 1000. Here is a short video I put together.

Enjoy.

Exercise makes you hotter

No matter what age, shape, or size, when I see a woman exercising she instantly becomes at least ten percent more attractive. I think the first time it really occurred to me I was driving around and I saw a slightly overweight woman jogging. She appeared to be struggling, she wasn’t moving very fast, but she just kept going. Something clicked in my brain and I started to see her differently. I find myself noticing it a lot while out hiking as well. Women who aren’t my type, they’re sweaty, in gym clothes, not at all looking their best, but the fact that they are out putting in the effort causes a slight attraction in me. I guess it’s the fact that it shows that they care enough about their health that they are out their trying to make a change, to better themselves, to improve their quality of life. Now as I drive around I can’t help but notice all of the women out making the effort. Keep it up ladies, exercise instantly makes you hotter.

Why I missed that putt

I missed an easy putt on Wednesday, as punishment Phil told me I had to go home and write a 600 word essay describing how I missed the putt. I had to do it though without using the words “the” or “ball”. Below is that essay.




Why I Missed That Putt

By

Bryan Van Diggele


It was a putt that never had a chance; it was going left as soon as I hit it. I had a good round but that putt was a bad miss. My final round score was nine strokes over par, if I hadn’t missed that putt, it would have been eight. When we approached hole three, which usually plays as a par four, it was shorted to a par three due to sprinklers being installed. They just picked a patch of fairway and called it a tee box. It wasn’t more than a pitching wedge’s distance now from tee box to green; yet I still managed to miss. I’m usually confident in my short game, playing a lot of smaller par three courses, I’ve had a lot of time to hone my approach and short recovery shots. Unfortunately on this hole you wouldn’t have known my short game was my strength. After hitting a not so good short tee shot, I didn’t hit my chip as well as I wanted either. I struggled with my short chip shots all day. I was on in two but had a lengthy putt for par. I misread how uphill my first putt was and didn’t hit it nearly hard enough. I left it short with about two feet to go to now save for bogie. I placed my marker down and picked up my Bridgestone Treo Soft. After taking a few steps back I squatted down, surveying this particular greens features. Fullerton has greens that I find tricky to read but it appeared to be sloping right to left and I was still going uphill. Put it about a half a cup right, hit it solid, and I should be happy. I picked up my marker, confident in my line. Stepping up to that putt I knew I could easily walk away with a bogie and still have a chance at my goal of shooting bogie golf for my round (Phil and I have been playing Fullerton golf course every Wednesday for the past month with the goal of shooting a round of bogie golf). This is a putt you have to make to be a successful golfer, foot and half to two feet out, you need to make these. I set up for this putt like I do every other putt. Get my grip, step in with my left foot, place my putter down, slide it towards me until it’s crisp white aiming line meets a Treo Soft logo with an arrow in front that now points a half cup right. My right foot moves into position, followed by my left. Once I’m set, I take one last look at my line, easy backstroke, no break in the wrist, and then a firm follow through. Only this time, I just pushed it left, plain and simple. I could blame an unrepaired divot or a stray leaf; I could even try and blame the wind. There are plenty of excuses to be made when you miss a putt from that distance. You never want to admit that you just hit a bad shot, especially with your putter, which has the appearance of being the easiest club to hit. But at the end of the day, I just pushed it left. Some times as a golfer you just hit bad shots. It’s better that I own up to the bad shots and learn from them, rather than try and fool myself into thinking it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t keep my putter on line and I paid the price, that bogie just became a double. Thankfully I didn’t miss my goal by a stroke, now I can move on and put that putt behind me.

Bombs bursting in air

As I moved my car late in the evening on 4th of July to a spot in front of Josh’s parent’s house I had to make my way through a neighborhood that strangely resembled a war zone. There were fireworks in the streets that I had to weave my car through, explosions in the sky rain down ash, car alarms going off from the concussions. Is it not the strangest thing that we celebrate our freedom in this country by recreating the hell of war? Shooting fireworks into the sky that resemble the “bombs bursting in air”, buying packs of explosives that resemble pipe bombs, and firing off guns into the air. Does anyone else find it strange that a day of celebration resembles news footage from the beginning of the Iraq war?

Bag of fruit and new couches

Are you in the area? I bought a couch today and it’s tied to the roof of my car. That’s what the text message I received one Sunday afternoon read. I tell you this because when she told me how cheap she had purchased this brand new couch, I asked where she got it because I too was in the market for a new couch. There was a miscommunication and I found myself at the Goodwill near downtown L.A. I walked in and immediately saw that there were no new couches, in fact, most of the furniture was pretty beat up. There was however the distinct smell of hot sauce in the air. I found the smell strange seeing how Goodwill is not like IKEA, they don’t have a restaurant inside. I turned to leave and then I saw it, the source of the hot sauce aroma. A mother and daughter standing at one of the used tables for sale, their lunch sitting on said table with a bottle of hot sauce for extra flavor. I thought immediately, “who the fuck eats their lunch in a Goodwill?”

Another conversation revealed that the place she had purchased the couch was actually just down the street from the Goodwill/lunch destination. A few weeks later she agreed to accompany me on my return trip to downtown to insure that I made it to the right place. I found a couch, but before I could purchase it I really needed to think about it, a couch is a big commitment, you sit on it every day. I sat on it, sat across from it, looked at it, asked what she thought, asked if it was comfortable to her, then I sat on it again, is this the couch I will sit on everyday for the near future? At the moment I finally decided to purchase the couch their internet connection went down, meaning they were unable to charge my credit card. I was given two options, wait for someone to probably reset a cheap Linksys router, which we all know can sometimes be a long process, they really do suck, or we could go to the bank about a mile away and get cash. We agreed that we would go to the bank, giving me more time to over-analyze my purchase. When we returned we realized that we were going to miss lunch and wouldn’t eat until dinner. The taco truck wasn’t serving food anymore but the fruit cart was and for just four dollars we purchased a quit large bag of mixed fruit. Now that I was paying for the couch with cash, I really had to look at it again, now the money was real, swiping your card is easy, handing over cash is something completely different. We sat on the chair across from the couch, looking at it one more time, both of us with a fork in hand, eating our bag of fruit, in a place just a block away and quite similar to Goodwill. I realized then, you don’t plan to have lunch at Goodwill, it just happens. “Who the fuck eats their lunch in a Goodwill?” Apparently I do.

Seattle

Two hundred photos and here are the thirty-four I liked. Enjoy.