I had just finished all my reading bullshit for class. and i was nice and sleeping. and i hear BAMB. and then i heard people laughing so i thought maybe it was just drunk people. but then BAMB again. and it started smelling really gross. so i looked out my window in my room which faces the back of the building and there was this huge blazing fire. so i go to the front window and theres another huge blazing fire. and i started freaking out. i thought our building was on fire. i woke up my roommate and we dont know what to do. until people knocked on our door and said we had to go to the next building over where the head of the program guy lives. so we grab ‘important things’ which once i had reason back was just ridiculous things. and go over and sit in this little room with everyone in the program. and everrrryone is freaking out. oh and wearing pants. yeah. i wasnt.

then the guy thats the head comes in & is like “well. it happens. get used to it”
it was hella scary. apparently some anarchist protesting capitalism by setting off car bombs in expensive cars. except one was an suv? i didnt know that was considered all that important. then again seems only douches drive suvs, so i can understand.

now its 4:31. and i am sitting in my bed drinking wine. cuz i for sure can not go back to bed. it was hella scary. and smelly

-jfrank

Here is what i know: art school.
because for the past two years i have lived through it.
so ridiculous. awfully ridiculous. full of ridiculous art kids.
i guess i would have to be placed in that same category…  but lets not talk about that.
art school has made me feel less artistic  and more of an asshole.
they teach us to appreciate high art.  I’ve had many an art history class which focuses on the difference between art as understood by people in the know as opposed to the masses.
down with the masses. all they want is kitsch. They appreciate an accurately drawn face when it has no meaning behind it. but dont understand the likes of flavin and stella. they see andy warhol as just a pop icon.
[see what i mean about being an asshole?] art is so much more interesting when conceptual.
i dont want to be an elitist. and somehow i am being pushed in that direction. NO.
thanks to art school for that.

about the people - art kids are expected to be hipsters. but i think theres a definate line between the two. at least in my experience.
although..
being an artist seems like the new hip thing to do. everyone thinks they are an artists — but its different than outsider art. hipsters just talk alot about being artists and don’t act upon it. kids in art school do nothing but act upon it. to extremes. annoyingly so. like theres nothing else in the world.
go away.
_________________________________________________________________________

a bit of my personal experience:
i was in video art. i made videos that i thought were really exciting. like this:

but i was told that it was too happy and therefore rendered meaningless.

this received the comment “you need to be more narcissistic”.great.

art school = mass ridiculousness.
one girl told me my videos didnt look like what she imagined art to look like. this was probably the best compliment i received, even though she didnt mean it that way.
I dont want to be a carbon copy of every other artist.
so finally after about 10ish videos i got fed up. and made a video of how annoyed i was with the video art program. which you can see here, if you like:

and everyone loved that one.
how ironic.
how art school.

im in graphic design now. which i was always more interested in anyway. and which is all about the masses. no elitism here. just spreading info through great visuals. [ http://highpeoplemagic.com/jennyfrank ]

-jFrank

[or birthday, for those unbeeveducated among us]
to Kieran, co-founder of hpm.
i think that a good way to celebrate is for everyone who may read this to buy something from the hpm store.
good idea, no?

does anyone like pulp?
this is a call to all of those who believe pulp is a valid object in this world,
either as a food product
a section of a drink
or a stand alone identity.
i would like to hear a good argument for pulp.
one that doesn’t mention how its exactly like sandy water
or salt water
or like drinking from a fish tank.

pulp. noun. the soft, juicy, edible part of a fruit.
barf. verb. induced by pulp.

octopus. noun. raw, boiled and pickled, sautéed, deep-fried or for more mature specimens, simmered or boiled for several hours. delicious.

-jfrank

everyday another person fights their way though europe
searching for treasure or lost feet
maybe one day theyll learn the truth about salmon

^that was a poem.
who invented poetry? i didnt. and yet somehow i can still write a great poem.
somehow..
poems are so full of poetry though. its kind of sickening. 
remember when you thought poems had to rhyme? like in 2nd grade when they made us memorize that book “Alexander and the Terrible horrible no good very bad day” in between making little versions of ourselves out of paper and reporting on the weather.
oh and dr. seuss. once he died. and we had a funeral for him. i bet he apprechiated that. in some sort of rhyming way.  or maybe dead people cant rhyme.
but fish can rhyme. always. even when theyre not stuck in those six pack plastic things.
native americans probably taught bison to rhyme, right before they killed them all.
too bad. a bison may have been the first dr. seuss.
but then came shakespeare. and all those other people who wrote sonnets. i guess some of them were from italy…? i dont remember. who remembers sonnets.
sonnets have alot of rules. all of which i like to break. 
no A B A B. no quatrains. no couplets. none of the above.
I wont even get into haikus. or those poems where you write one word down the side with a letter to start each line. why is that even a thing. people abuse the expandabitliy of abbreviations. i bet “etc” doesnt approve. neither does NASA.
whos that guy that likes to organize poems really randomly? and not use punctuation? it begins with an E. ah how could i forget.. well. use your imagination.
he should maybe get into typography and out of poetry, so as to stop spreading his poetry too thin. like stretching a tiny piece of skin over a giant drum head.
i rather like having skin.

-jfrank

do you want to have a vague conversation?
lets agree to disagree.
do you want to have a vague conversation?
just say it already.
well. 
its more random that you have a brother.
its okay, neither do I. 
do you want to have a vague conversation?
that was too confusing.
lets be more vague instead. 

-JF

hello.

one day i decided to ride a tandem bicycle. But instead there was a lady watering some cement.
so i returned to HPM headquarters full of questions.
they responding by pelting me with “WRITE A BLOG ABOUT CYBORGS!!”
but. why? i dont particularly have any interest in writing about cyborgs. at least not every day. and today is my day off [of cyborgs]
after much discussion they instructed me to write about lettuce and William instead. this is not much more interesting. they are both meek and mild. and in case you dont  William, he tastes like stale sausage. and lettuce? also stale sausage.
now they are berating me with ideals that converse are the only shoes that matter. although converse are mighty nice, what about other kinds of shoes? like river boots. and dancing clogs. and snow heels. but never heelys.
chicken feet are not shoes. moon boots are only for the moon.
crazy paisly does not equal a kind of shoe. perhaps they are socks. thigh high socks. or thigh high sneakers.
can aprons be shoes? only if they hold spurs on the back. or sock garders. up to the bra. velcro bra.
hand shoes certainly do make sense, only when you are an amputee.  or a bowler.
lots of dancers wear shoes. like tap shoes. and ballet shoes. and shoes made of fish.
or shoes made out of fabric that go on top of other shoes to make them look different.
krocs arent shoes. they are full of dirty hippie soles.

-JF