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I recently got into an argument with a friend trying to defend one of my new favorite shows. LOST. While explaining to him that it’s basically the reason I started a netflix account, he gave me a look. It was a I haven’t seen 2 minutes of the show but I’m going to formulate some kind of opinion on it look. “LOST is just Gilligan’s Island on acid”, he condescendingly explained to me. A problem some men might run into is dick trickle. This happens after you pee and you think you are done, you close up your pants, but the last remaining urine finds its way out onto the inside of your underwear. We come up with all sorts of ways to avoid this, the most . . . → Read More: Dick Trickle Much attention has been paid to how being a native English speaker is an invaluable resource in a world where speaking English has become expected in business, politics, and even social situations (in some countries it is a clear demarcator of class and social standing). We’ll not mention that having little material incentive to learn a second or third language results in the Anglo countries not doing so, forever precluding the educational and intellectual benefits accrued by learning another language. However, on the whole the internationalization of English is a benefit to us native-English speakers. But little attention has been drawn to the phenomenon’s effect on the ancient Japanese art of Karaoke. http://lukeollett.com/store/ Ever wanted to sell anything? Well I thought I would give it a go and sell myself. Not like a prostitute, although if the price was right… But never mind that, The shop is now open and if you fancy yourself a pair of laser enhanced eyes or some quads with a cycling . . . → Read More: Luke Closeout Sale So as I stumble through life trying to make sense of what exactly it is that I am trying to accomplish, I absolutely love hearing stories of how other people are dealing with that very same experience. Even more so when it doesn’t involve the all too common answers that I have heard back . . . → Read More: http://www.thesoccerproject.com/ A friend of mine here in Izmir lives in a suburb called Buca. It’s significantly out of the city, but I’ve been a few times for dinner and a couple beers. Anyway, we were on the balcony of his 7th story apartment, gazing upon the half-picturesque, half-development-scathed landscape when we noticed some particular pigeons . . . → Read More: Messenger Pigeons It’s a week before my senior show. If my roommate comes back from Vegas early he will have a heart attack from seeing the shape our apartment is in. Dirty dishes in the living room, tubes of paint and brushes scattered around the kitchen cabinets. It would not be unusual to see something like a dirty shirt, a half eaten bowl of top ramen and a stack of notebooks and papers all lying together. I like to think of it as controlled chaos. It may look like a mess to an outsider, but I know where everything is. From about age 6 I had always been playing football (soccer). It dominated my life for the next 15 years or so and I was quite happy to allow that. My time on the field started to wane when I began traveling the nation for my ex employer IBM. Six days a week on the road is not conducive to exercise or organized sports and as a result I gained quite a few kilos. I think I weighted over 90 kilos at one point. (multiply by 2.2 for your inferior “standard” weights system) I decided this was not acceptable and decided to join my friends in triathlons to get back into shape. It was at this time (two years ago now) that I found out that I had to give up football for the rest of my years as those trixsy doctors diagnosed me with osteonecrosis which translates to BONE DEATH! Last night as I lay in my aunt’s house in Norway, I had two very memorable dreams. The first one I believe to be easy to decipher and the second one is not so easy but seems to be following a recurring theme I am having in many of my dreams. I will try to briefly describe the dream and then give my analysis which I have been avoiding in some of the last dream blogs. In art school about 5 years ago, we were asked to do a painting on someone we admired. The guidelines were there were no guidelines, the more abstract the better. I chose to do MJ. At first I thought of doing some epic montage of him in his different stages of life. This got frustrating because there was no still image I could create that would come close to capturing everything I love about him. So instead I decided to do a piece on what MJ is to Brian Pratt. Not to the world, not to the world of entertainment, but to me. Continue reading Growing up on MJ
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