so  nasanasa.org is putting this fundraiser together and im curating a selection of illegaly produced NES games from yore to be played by the public as part of my installation. im working on the machine that will do this and it has consumed me for the last 3 days:

now im in the middle of developing a videogame over the course of a weekend with a great group of people gathered at columbia university as part of the first international global game jam:

the criteria is:

-a gameplay session must last 5 minutes or less
-the theme is : “as long as we have each other, we will never run out of problems” wtf!
-you must incorporate one of the following adjectives: illusions, pointed, constant.

Im paraphrasing with the criteria but thats the gist of it. we are thinking about optical illusions, micro cell organisms, color coded game mechanics and at one point my team considering incorporating finding your blind spot as part of the game design but maybe next time.

they feed us pizza and we sleep in bags.

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v 2.0

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its late and

today was one of those days that function as landmarks for ones life; personally this day is right next to 911 and that time I became a man. last night I had this dream where I attended a fancy government event held at the MOMA as part of G.W. Bush’s goodbye tour. for this reason, and as it became evident in his last public press conference, George didn’t give a fuck anymore. the gloves were off, im out! you could hear him thinking.

so this gathering at the MOMA is actually a weird kind of larping not based on any pop culture cult but something more akin to religion and very exclusive and elitist; something so esoteric that only people that frequent certain social circles can experience.

so there he was, George Walker Bush surrounded by his very rich powerful friends and they are all larping and messing around, drinking, just having a good time. everyone else is wearing light colored gowns with little sparkles and colorful stars that give them characteristics of something native of Miami. he also had a wizard hat on that could have been easily confused for a dunce hat.

randomly we sat next to each other and talked before the event started, he introduced himself and I stopped myself from punching him and/or bringing a bottle to his face; sarcasm would be enough I said to myself.

but he didn’t “get” any of it.
it was like talking to a wall. it has felt like talking to a wall for eight years.

that was my dream. then I woke up to the reality of the man on the picture above.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

whitebox: pixel gallery
(work in progress)

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wtf?/

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this was an amazing way to start the new year, all thanks to dear Martha Clippinger and her housemates at the Dirty Dirty.

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