Costa Rica:
Costa Rica is in a tropical zone, very close to the equator. Because of this the temperature and average amount of sunlight each day varies very little throughout the year. However, the country does consider itself to have two seasons: summer and winter. The summer in Costa Rica is its dry season, with little or no rain. Costa Rica ’s summer is the opposite of what is generally found in the rest of the Northern Hemisphere as it lasts from December through May. Winter in Costa Rica, also known as its green season, sees a great deal of rainfall and lasts from June though November. The only exceptions to this summer/winter pattern are in the country’s mountain regions which tend to get more

Montaverde
Population: 7.202 (1997)
Location: 80 miles northwest of San Jose

History and Information:

Monteverde, Costa Rica (Spanish for green mountain) is a small town in Puntarenas, Costa Rica. It is about a four-hour drive up into the Cordillera de Tilarán mountain range from the SJO (Juan Santamaria International Airport) airport. It is often considered a major tourist destination in Costa Rica, primarily frequented by ecotourists drawn by the high biodiversity of its numerous reserves, the most famous of which is the Reserva Biológica Bosque Nuboso Monteverde. The area is also frequented by researchers and naturalists who come to study specialized areas of mountain and tropical biodiversity. The Monteverde area has been christened number 14 of the Americas in Newsweek’s 100 Places to Remember Before They Disappear, has been deemed one of the Seven Wonders of Costa Rica by popular vote, and has been called by National Geographic “the jewel in the crown of cloud forest reserves”.

Various indigenous artifacts, such as pots, containers, ceramics and grinders suggest a small population of Clovis Native Americans once farmed in villages in the Monteverde area, around 3000 BC. Intense deforestation accompanied horticulture, and stone foundations dating to this period can be found. Jade objects became prominent characteristics of these villages. From AD 300 to 800, complex chiefdoms supplanted simpler chiefdoms and more intricate villages appear, with cemeteries, public squares, gold-work and inter-tribal trade and conflict. Around 1300, a general decline in population occurred, possibly due to Arenal Volcano’s increased activity.

Elevation: 1400 meters above sea level
Temperature: Annual mean 64.4 Fahrenheit
Annual Rain Average: Annual rainfall averages around 3,000 millimetres / (18 ft) of precipitation per year.

Internet Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiKZTp_k9Rk&feature=player_embedded
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtbjrqeTrZ0&feature=player_embedded

Internet Links:
http://www.monteverdeinfo.com/
http://www.monteverdeextremo.com/

The Vibe:

Coming soon…

Experiences: 
Going nowhere – photo# 21
On a clear night in Montaverde I was able to see the stars above me in numbers I’ve never seen before. Traveling with a heavy duty tripod and remote trigger, I decided to take advantage of the luminescence above. I collected my gear and headed for the taxi corner. When asked for my destination I said “en ninguna parte,” nowhere. I explained that I needed no city lights, “buenos vistas y mucho estrellas,” good views and lots of stars.  He thought of just the place and drove me about 20 minutes out of town where nowhere literally existed. He asked me if I needed him to return and I told him sure. “En una hora o dos horas por favor,” one or two hours please. Stepping out in excitement, my remote trigger/aperture lock fell out of my cargo-pocket and was left in the cab. The driver unknowingly took off with the one tool necessary for me to capture the stars. I was now draped in darkness in the middle of nowhere unable to take photos for one to two hours. I decided to make the best of it so I climbed up about a 6 foot dirt embankment to be out of the way in case a car did come by. I set up my gear and shot my my first exposure which revealed nothing because my lens cap was still on. It was so dark that I could not tell. Remaining optimistic about my circumstances and first exposure, I decided to try again. I physically held my pointer finger on the shutter button for a bit over ten minutes again. For ten minutes I had to control my breathing and body movements to move the camera as little as possible. During that second exposure a two cars drove by, casting enough light to expose the shot to the environment around me. Fear rushed through my heart when the cars came. Will they see me? Were they looking for me? Did the cab driver send them so come rob me? Being on the embankment and a few steps into the brush might have been the best decision I made that night. Ether way, the shot eventually revealed itself to me in the camera and I was happy with the results given the circumstances (photo# 21).

Crime is an imminent risk, especially to travelers with large cameras around their neck in the middle of nowhere. I was told that this city was on the low side of crime, but its hard to ever be sure. Being a traveling photojournalist entails a lot of risk taking and possible life endangering. I weighed the possible risks at hand when I got in the taxi cab and was driven nowhere, my passions out weighed the risks. I encourage you to be safe while traveling. You equipment is never worth your life, that’s what travelers insurance is for.

more coming soon…




Costa Rica:
Costa Rica is in a tropical zone, very close to the equator.  Because of this the temperature and average amount of sunlight each day varies very little throughout the year.  However, the country does consider itself to have two seasons:  summer and winter.  The summer in Costa Rica is its dry season, with little or no rain.  Costa Rica ‘s summer is the opposite of what is generally found in the rest of the Northern Hemisphere as it lasts from December through May.  Winter in Costa Rica , also known as its green season, sees a great deal of rainfall and lasts from June though November.  The only exceptions to this summer/winter pattern are in the country’s mountain regions which tend to get more

La Fortuna
Population: 7.202 (1997)
Location: 80 miles northwest of San Jose

Information:
La Fortuna (Spanish for “The Fortune”) rests at the base of Volcano Arenal and was founded in the early 1930’s. La Fortuna was originally named Caserío El Burio until 1948. Its natural beauty inspired Rufino Quesada, Isolina Quesada and Antonio Hidalgo to change the name to La Fortuna. It was recently placed into the region of San Carlos due to a majority wining vote. The vote was one of the first of its kind in Costa Rica. Its potential at the moment is the cattle raising, although the tourism is already displacing revenues. It is a beautiful city that is very rich with culture.

Elevation: 350 feet above sea level
Temperature: 67-88° F year round
Annual Rain Average : 13 inches/month

Internet Videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiKZTp_k9Rk&feature=player_embedded
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtbjrqeTrZ0&feature=player_embedded

Internet Links:
http://www.fortunawelcome.com/la-fortuna-san-carlos/
http://www.cabanitasresort.com/english_resort_aboutcostarica.html

The vibe: Like the rest of Costa Rica , they are very green and eco-friendly. Trash is divided up into recyclables, garbage, and organics. There is very little litter around. You can see easily how tourism has impacted the city. Directly behind the novelty shops and main street restaurants are very poor ghettos. You can go from shopping for fine art to seeing barefoot children in the mud within twenty steps. The people are very friendly, I felt safe at all times. Like any other city in Central America , even an attempt to speak Spanish is much appreciated; and there are dogs everywhere!

Experiences:
Soccer – Photos 25-46
I was walking through the ghettos and I came across a few kids standing on the side of the street, one was holding a red soccer ball. I approached them with my broken Spanish. I politely asked them their names, and attempted to ask them where it was they were playing. They pointed to the field behind them. I asked them if I could come in with them. Kevin, Jonathon, John, Steven, Henry, Manual, Felipe, and Aron said yes and asked me if I was going to take photos (they signed taking a photo with their hands). I said no, juego!!! Their faces lit up. We stepped over the sewer channel, crawled under the barbed wire fence, and ran into the field. They made me a captain; I picked all the littlest guys for my team, then jugamos!!

The children ran happy and barefoot through a cow/horse feces littered field. There was a giant pile to dodge every few seconds. Beneath our feet laid about seven leafcutter ant paths that were scored through the field, thousands of ants marched as we played. The goals, two sticks wedged into the ground as deep as a 10 year old can push them. Directly adjacent to the field was a 10 foot tall barbed fence. If the ball was accidentally kicked over, the children were forced to wedge themselves under the gate to retrieve their ball. I kept thinking to myself, I wonder if these children have ever played on a real field before. I live near several soccer fields, and hardly ever see them being used. I never thought a field to play in would be something that I took for granted. After about 30 minutes of playing we stopped. We played hard, and a lot sweat was shed. One of the children asked me to take my shoes off as we stood about 2 feet from a steaming pile, I said “necesito mis zapatos.” The score was tied, 2-2. I wanted to take all the kids out for ice cream, but I forgot how to saw that word in Spanish. I started to draw an ice cream cone and before it was complete their faces lit up. They all started to yell helado! I said si, nosotros.

They walked proudly and next to me towards the local market. Most of them were explaining to the locals what it was that I was doing for them on the way. We walked into the market, and they immediately began to ransack the ice cream cooler. The cashier/owner was frantically trying to add up the costs on paper as he watched the indecisive children take one and put on back, the total came to about $3.00 US. Outside the market we all enjoyed our helado, and I took a group shot.

Soon after one of them brought me and a few others back his home to meet his pet parrot. I hung out there for about 15 minutes and took a few photographs. I had a good rest, said my goodbyes, and ventured off to explore more.

Rent – Photos 10-24
As I walked through the ghetto I saw many barefoot and muddy children and homes hardly standing, yet these children were anything but unhappy. As I was photographing a house (photo 10-11), a man that spoke good English approached me. He was short, clothing slightly disheveled, barefoot, and had a deformed nose. He was very polite and told me that he was a volcano tour guide. I asked him questions about the ghettos, such as how much was rent on the street. He told me an average of 40,000 colones a month, that’s about $80.00 US. These homes had no windows, dirt/concrete floors, and had no more furnishings then a few chairs, maybe a bed. I know because I was invited to walk through a few, the locals were very hospitable.

Population: 83,992

Information:
Bath is located in the ceremonial county of Somerset, south west England. The city was first established by the Romans in 43AD as a spa resort, and was recently granted its city status in 1590 by Queen Elizabeth I. The spas were built over naturally occurring hot springs. The water was channeled using many underground pipes which still work today. The spas were warmer then bath water.

Edgar was crowned king of England at Bath Abbey in 973. Much later, it became popular as a spa resort during the Georgian era, which led to a major expansion that left a heritage of exemplary Georgian architecture crafted from Bath Stone.

Climate:
The weather is generally milder then the rest of England. Annual average temperature is 50F.

Experiences:
Unfortunately I was not in this amazing city long at all, just a few short hours. I spent about one hour of my time there just walking around the baths, and the rest exploring the city. I was so fascinated that I stayed too late and almost missed my bus out, which may or may not have been too bad of a thing. There was something about this city that flabbergasted me. It felt like I was walking around in a fairytale, or I had traveled back in time. I did not go in any shops, in fact I sort of despised their presence. I felt that the touristy side of the city ruined it. I wish I had more time in this city, and it is defiantly on my list of places to return to.



Dub Fx claims to be completely independent using only: live performance, word of mouth, internet social networking and a number of easily accessible free samples. His lyrics both address generalized world events and contemporary angst while suggesting individual based revolution through self determination and engagement.

Everythinks a Ripple is the first Dub FX studio album. The promotional material says “all sounds on the album were created with his voice using a Roland effects & loop pedal.”

The only website that I could find for him, http://www.convoyunltd.com/
Youtube search results for Dub FX

The Explanation – he states how he makes his music.

The story – he explains his musical integration from Australia to London

Live – not afraid to admit a mistake

I am still not sure if this is even serious, let me know what you think.

http://www.photoshopzilla.com/How-to-make-a-web-based-flyer-in-photoshop_42.html

I have placed six photographs on display at Zoja’s gallery in Blain Adams Salon and Gallery at the beginning of January 2010. These six will be on display for about two months. I will be refreshing the display with new photographs into the spring and possibly summer months.

Feel free to browse the gallery, and the photographs are for sale.

627 Main Street
Monroe, CT 06468-2807

Contact Zoja
(203) 513 – 1631

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This entire trip was shot on 35 millimeter film with my Nikon N2000

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Teaching Enghish

I taught english at this school in Quzhou for about a month and a half in the summer of 2005. My class had an age range of 13-15.

Stories coming soon..

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This entire trip was shot on 35 millimeter film with my Nikon N2000

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The road construction:
Upon arrival from Shanghai, some of the English teachers and I were brought to this road. Our eyes were still sheltered and culture shock still flowed through our systems; we were unable to make out what was happening here. Was this a war zone? Is this where I will be living? A lot of questions flooded my mind, but my tongue was unable to voice them. Blindly following our group leader, we walked to a hotel that was in the center of this chaos; which we shortly nicknamed Bay Rough.

With in a few days my eyes adjusted to the turmoil, faces grew familiar, and I started to document the construction. There were about 5-8 men building the road. Located on the end of the street was the school where I taught English. There they were building a walking bridge for the children to cross. This job had 4 men of its own. The construction of the road lasted over a month and a half because the road was almost entirely built by hand. Every manhole was hand placed, and the rim upon which it set was hand chiseled. Every road side block was hand cut and adjusted into place. Even the heavy machenery was removed off trucks by about 8 pairs of hands.

Throughout the construction process the crew slept on the job. I was informed that the life of a Chinese construction worker was one of solitude. They travel with their work, sleeping where ever possible. Late at night once, I walked under the bridge and was yelled at by the workers sleeping in makeshift beds hung in the bamboo rafters. I was not sure what they were saying, but I assumed they feared that I was there to steal their tools.

The day the road was finally paved, all of the people that lived or worked on the street walked on it in rejoice, the road was finally here. In America, if our road gets paved, the construction that last merely a day of two activates us. Here its as if they were celebrating. I knew I took things for granted, but living here opened up my eyes. I was astonished that something so routine in America as road paving could be such an elaborate and appreciated service; I had a lot to learn.

01.01.2009 – DAY ONE
Today was the first day of the new year and the first day of my silence so I decided to go and hang out with some friends. I was picked up by my friend Lisa and she was completely unaware that I would not be talking. She asked me are you seriously not going to talk? I replied yes with a head nod.

On the way there I asked her to stop at Right-AID via pen and inc. I needed to get some Ben-Gay for my knee, it was killing me. This was my first experience in a store not being able to talk. I found immediately that I wanted to ask where the Ben-Gay was. Not being able to talk, I had to look for it my self, something I would not normally do. Upon completion of my purchase the cashier said thank you and have a nice day, I sadly could not respond. This gave me a bad feeling, not being able to tell her you’re welcome or to also wish her a nice day was upsetting to me.

At the house I was immediately bombarded with questions such as what happens if you laugh and what happens if you burp or sneeze, so on and so forth. After about 20 minutes of silent Q&A we watched a movie, and played skatogories. It was an eventful day. I was treated by a few friends as if I were helpless. I mind as well had been disabled. Not talking was leading to some very interesting social occurrences. I am a scientist at heart, and I was loving every minute of this.

01.02.2009 – DAY TWO
I went snow boarding in Vermont with my friends Nick and Galen. On the way up I wanted to partake in the car ride conversation, but a part of me was getting used to not talking. I was learning that a lot of what I said to my friends was just mindless chit chat. The only times I felt compelled to talk were in instinctual situations. Saying God Bless you after someone sneezes, or excuse me if I burped.

In the lodge, a woman with forms asked Galen and I to fill out a survey to get a free hot chocolate. I had signaled to Galen for him to add my e-mail address to her list because I wanted to do it too. He then told her, “he can’t talk, well actually he is not talking for a week as part of his New Years revolution, and he can hear and talk perfectly fine.” She then told me that what I am doing is very interesting, and Galen replied with “try living with him.” She then asked me to thumbs up if liked it, so I did.
It was on the top of the mountain that I slipped and uttered a word fragment. Galen and I were posing for a photo at the top of the mountain. It was a strenuous awkward pose, and Nick had been just aiming the camera at us for about a minute already, not taking one photo. Finally he said OK and put the camera down. Not seeing the flash go off as it did with the others; I started to say, “You didn’t even take it!” All that actually came out was “yo…” I decided to at that point start my vow over. A day and a half was down the drain.

01.03.2009 – DAY THREE Coming soon…

The silence was remarkably insightful, it forced me to think more and act less. I was able to see where conversations would go with out adding my two cents. Above all I learned that its not what you say, its what you do. Benefiting from this seven days of reflection in more ways that I knew were possible, I decided to do it again; 2010.

01.01.2010 DAY I
At the strike of midnight dawning 2010, I silenced myself for seven days. I was at a friend’s house party to celebrate the New Year, not a typical place to be silent. Some of the people there knew my plan, others did not. Those who knew were awed by my vow, and those who were not informed just thought there was something wrong with me. I celebrated the morning of 01.01.2010 silently till about 3:30 am.

That night I had dreams about not talking. I dreamt that words were for sale, and people could not talk unless it was meaningful or valuable to others. There was more in the dreams, but I only disclose that in my dream journal… =].

The afternoon of 01.01.2010, my roommate and I went out to run a few errands, and I almost broke my silence streak. I attempted to talk was when I belched loudly in front of a man while getting a shopping cart at Wal-Mart. I immediately opened my mouth and thought the words “excuse me,” but never voiced them. Unfortunately for me that mans thoughts of my behavior must have been foul. As hard as it was I did not attempt to explain to him that I was under a vow of silence. I began to think about how people who actually can’t talk,  or don’t know the local language,  can’t voice a simple excuse me and could be judged for that. Forcing silence on myself, I am creating grounds to understand people in these predicaments. How can I or anyone for that matter help people as a therapist if we do not truly understand our clients perspective?

Wandering around the store for roughly 15 minutes looking for the stationary department, my instinct was to ask a floor representative for help. Being silent taught me that my instinct is not to look for things myself, but to ask for help; weakness learned. I eventually found the stationary department, where I then located a small dry-erase board to communicate with my client and his mother at work. I also used it to play monopoly later that night. We invited a few friends over and played monopoly for a few hours. Playing silently heightened my visual senses, as I could no longer relay on asking questions. I had to keep a keen eye on my properties, and I even made a few repetitive sayings chart on my dry-erase board. $200 for passing go, you owe me rent, and go F%$& yourself for those who offered me horrible deals for my properties.

What I was noticing more of this time around was that it was not how I would react to people, but how they would react to me. A few of my friends often felt confused. They felt because I was not talking that they could not talk to me. They voiced this strange anomaly with laughter.

01.02.2010 DAY II
For most of the day I remained at home catching up on some backed up computer work, but later that night I went out to socialize with some friends at a local pub. I decided to bring my dry-erase board out into the public, so I strung it around my neck. Not talking was making people want to talk to me more, as they clearly stated so. I met a very interesting young gentleman who was fascinated with my whiteboard. Our conversation started out casually as I wrote my limited responses on my board, but it slowly evolved into an intellectual conversation about the dynamics of the human brain. He studied neurology, and focused on the effects that music has on brain functioning and depression. I did not need words to have an intellectually stimulation conversation, who would of ever thought? A lot could be learn from this, for instance, less is more. I also met a couple of girls who offered me to sit and eat some of their french-fries with them. We had good conversations, mostly Q&A. I also met someone that told me that until he met me his night was uninteresting, “this is turning into a good night, it was bad before.” I even met one of the musical talents that night and discussed producing a music video for them; he gave me a copy of their new EP to review. I heard over and over that because I could not talk and my answers were limited to what little space I had on a whiteboard, that people were choosing their questions more carefully, “it’s filtering out all the useless chitchat.”

My silence still provoked confusion, as many people would repeatedly try to write their responses on my whiteboard. If I write a response to their oral question, does that not imply that I could hear? There were a few people that looked at me as if I was mentally challenged, but in all honesty, I had a dry-erase board hanging around my neck at a bar, that’s understandable; ha-ha.

I ordered two drinks last night and had two totally different experiences. The first time around it was a female bartender and it went very smooth. The second time it was a male and not so smooth.

Drink one- I wrote down my drink of choice on my board, Absolute & Club with lime, and held it up. She read it from about 30 feet away and in all actuality it was easier to order a drink with a whiteboard, I stood out and their eyes are not affected by bar chatter. She delivered my drink with out any questions, whether she judged me or not I will never know, but she did not make her thoughts or assumptions present to me. I liked that.

Drink two – The second drink was not such a pleasant experience. I wrote the same drink down and held up my sign. He came over with complete puzzlement, and said “what’s with the board?” A few of my friends were present at the time, and they told him that I took a vow of silence. They left before he brought me my drink, and as soon as they did he asked me what I wanted to drink again. I went to rewrite it because I had already wiped the board clean, and he said “no don’t write it, just tell me.” As I shook my head no he told me he would not tell my friends, I just kept writing my order down. He was mocking me and shaking his head. His friend had suggested to him that I was mute but the bartender said out loud, “no he’s not.” As he placed my drink down on the bar, he said “congratulations, you are my most annoying customer of the night.”

This is what my silence is all about, personal research into human social behavior, and I received a valuable piece of data with this guy. Here was a man that knows nothing about me, yet he feels knowledgeable of my status of mute or not. There was no doubt in my mind that he remembered my drink order, I knew he was just testing me to see if I would break my silence. He said he would not tell my friends, as if they who I am doing this for.

This is why I believe diets never work, because no one ever does anything for themselves. People are always two sided. One side is the person you see, and the other is the person you don’t. I have been told by many people that if they were me, they would be singing in the shower or in the car when no one is around. They say they don’t believe that I don’t because they would. My response to them is, “I’m not you.” What I am doing is a personal challenge, a test of will. Not too many people can understand this because will power is not all that common. Otherwise I believe we would less addicts or therapists for them in the world as we do today.

I get a lot of people saying that they want to get me to break, or want to make me slip. I believe it to be an unconscious urge of jealousy. It’s like you see in the behavior of children when their sibling(s) or friend(s) receives a toy that they wanted really bad. They either take it from them or break it. They can’t stand that someones else has something that they want, and I believe what I experienced with the second bartender was an adult generalization of this behavior. People fear what they don’t understand, and not many people understand my silence. I am not saying that he wanted to be silent, but I had something he did not, control. He wanted to make me talk, but that was out of his control. So I guess that’s what makes me annoying?

01.03.2010 DAY III
I was home for just about 22 hours this day. I left my house at about 3:00 to pick up a friend at the train station and we both went grocery shopping. It was beyond cold out; I don’t like to be outside when it hurts. I returned home a few hours later and ate dinner. Not too long after that I fell into what felt like a winter hibernation coma. I was asleep for about four hours.

I did a lot of reflecting on this cold snowy day. I processed what everyone has been saying to me. I found myself focusing on how people keep looking for a flaw in my silence. If I sneeze, people act like their favorite sports team just defeated its rival. “That was a sound, that counts, you broke!” First of all, I am doing this to myself, therefor I make the rules. Secondly, if anyone took to time to read this blog, they would learn that I already factored in biological sounds. How can I deny myself a sneeze, furthermore why would I? There very satisfying =]. Anyways, what people are failing to see is it’s not about making sounds, or seeing how long I can not speak, its about the experience.

I see this time and time again in our American culture, we are a very satisfaction driven society. Everyone wants to cut to the chase, or hurry up and get there. Taking this attitude towards life heavily impacts our perspective on the world around us. If those who seem to unconsciously want me to fail would stop and take a few steps back, they might see the whole picture. Maybe they will even realize that there is no victory to achieve here. It’s not about wining or losing, it’s about the experience. Even if I slip I will keep going. I am simply doing this to alter the way I interact with the world and gain a new perspective.

By eliminating a sense or strength, we grow in ways we couldn’t even fathom. It’s similar in baseball when a batter on deck will swing a bat with a weight on it. Practicing in a world that weighs more, when its time to bat he will remove the weight and feel a lighter swing and a stronger self. A BMX NBL racer will practice in a comparable way by tying a car tire to his bicycle seat post and riding around town. He is practicing in a world of resistance and when the tire is removed on race day, he will also feel a sense of strength and experience a lighter faster self.

Similarly, I am creating a world where voicing myself orally is not possible. Once the curtain of silence is removed, I will have also gained strength. I will be capable of communicating and expressing myself nonverbally more efficiently. I will choose my words more carefully and be more aware the things I say can effect others. I will also have gained an insight into the world of a deaf or mute person.

So to reiterate: coughing, belching, sneezing, etc., does not count. I am in control of the limitation I placed on my world. Even if I do slip, there is no winning or losing, only an experience. I have already proved to myself that I can go seven days with out talking last year; I have no desire to achieve this goal twice.

Things I miss the most – laughing, whistling, yelling, singing, talking to my father and uncle

01.04.2010 DAY IV
This was a day of challenges. I had a good amount of errands to run, followed by an afternoon of work with my client Matt. This was one of the first days that I actually became annoyed with my silence. I had a lot of face to face financial interactions to perform and I was not excited to see how they would play out.

First on my list was to pay rent to the company that my landlord has manage the house I live in. I walked into the office expecting things to be difficult, and was entirely surprised by how simple it turned out to be. I pointed to a post-it and he gave it to me. I wrote “rent for my address down,” and stuck it to the check. He said OK thank you, the end. Next up was to go to one of my banks to take out money to pay another bank. At the first bank I simply used the ATM, phew. The second bank is I have a loan out with and I had to somehow convey that I wanted to make a payment on my account. I have several accounts there, but only one with a loan and for some reason it’s always difficult for them to find the right account. I was not looking forward to this, but I was once again astonished by how simple it was. I wrote $200 dollars towards my loan followed by my name and my social security number on my parking validation. I handed it to her, and she handed it back stamped along with a transaction receipt; wow!

Next on the list was work with my client, and on schedule for today was to finish his latest painting. His fiftieth birthday is this coming Friday so he and I have been working on another rendition of the Eiffel-Tower as a gift for his twin sister. Matt has experienced my silence last year. This year I kept him very informed that it was coming again, so he was not in the dark. We had a great day of painting followed by a short walk and some hot tea downtown New Haven.

In the evening I went to C.O Jones for free food during happy hour with some friends. Other then the fact that I was not taking it was a typical night out. I went to sleep rather early that night, I have been feeling more tired then usual lately. I have also found my self napping on occasion, and I that is a very rare event in my life. I am not sure if all this is because I have less interactions with the world, or because there is less light in the winter months, further analysis is due here.

01.05.2010 DAY V
Today was a fairly simple day, I didn’t even leave the house. I awoke feeling ill and I believe this is the most likely reason behind my increased desire for sleep. I ate breakfast, watched some downloaded television programming, and then took a shower. Not feeling any better, I started myself on a treatment of Echinacea Root.

I used the afternoon time to edit some of my photographs from London, I really want to put these photos on my website before February. While I was editing them, my roommate explained to a mutual friend of ours that I was not talking for the first seven days of the New Year. She reacted just as many people initially do, a look of puzzlement, a loss of words, then immediately followed by a few questions that I respond to with head nods. She said something along the lines of, that seems cool or interesting. Galen (my roommate) made a rebuttal, “yeah, try living with him.” He also said the same thing last year.

I tried to learn something from what he had said by generalizing my situation. By becoming silent I removed a part of myself from the world, without intention. When verbal, I am usually quite comical and easy to converse with. While silent both of those means of communication become very difficult, although not impossible. In a broad view of my situation, I had removed the part of myself that allowed us to interact, relate, and communicate. I see this same unintentional behavior in the depressed or the addicted.

A drug-addict can become completely encompassed by their world of substances. As most of an addicts energy can easily become focused around obtaining and using their drug of choice. They often don’t leave much of themselves available to their loved ones. This is a commonality with those that suffer from depression. Their worlds have become altered and their ideals have changed. Though unlike depression, the initial stages of the disease called addiction, comes by choice. When people make the decision to begin to dance down the path of addiction, they are slowly removing parts of themselves and adding new ones. Think of your personality as a jar of water. My take on it is that we can only have so much water in the jar; we can only be so much of a person. Granted we change and our personalities evolve as we grow or mature, we often leave pieces of ourselves behind as we add new ones. An addict’s jar can become completely filled with the single desire to get high. The depressed seem to have spilt all the water out of their jars, as they often feel lost, and have no desires. Connecting the dots, I have detached a part of myself that everyone I know related to, similarly to that of an addict. My personality was no longer as outspoken as it usually was.

I have used my silence to catch a glimpse of the world around an addict through sober eyes. With this understanding, I am able to relate to how families or friends must feel when they watch the person they love slowly change into a person that they can not relate to anymore, or even communicate with. Sometimes we make decisions in our lives without even realizing how they effect those around us, I was able to see this more clearly while silent. I recognize that I have way over exaggerated my circumstance here, but I think my point of reference was not too far off.

01.06.2010 DAY VI
I woke up this morning and decided that I was going to make a phone call. My father and I usually spoke on a daily basis. I really missed his hearing his voice as I was sure he felt the same about mine. I dialed the number, placed the phone on speaker and eagerly awaited his answer. As my father said hello, so did I. To be more accurate, my computer speakers said hello. I was using windows type to speech. He did a lot of the talking, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. We caught each other up the best we could with the limitations of my computer voice, and shared a few laughs. Mine were silent; the computer could not process “hahaha” as laughter. He told me that I sounded like Steven Hawlking, so I immediately started to type in strange and inaccurate astronomy and physics facts, and it did sound just like him. I told him that I will be speaking this Thursday at midnight, and the phone call ended shortly after that.

I felt as though I was able to sympathize with Steven Hawking after making that phone call. I had so much that I wanted to say, so many thoughts to convey, yet I was no where near as limited as he is. I can’t imagine how he must feel or how frustrated he is, but I now have a minor understanding. I would’ve never of been able to remotely comprehend the level of irritation he must feel with all his limitations if I had never silenced myself. I am learning so much, feeling so much, and experiencing emotions I have never felt before, and yet I am more removed from the world then I have ever been.

This afternoon was another day with my client Matt. Today we went bowling and to the movie theaters, I love my job! I had quite an experience the last time I was silent at this bowling alley, I was very excited to see what was going to happen this time around. We walked in, walked up to the desk, and this time around I met Matt take care of business. The only time I intervened was to hold up two fingers representing the amount of games we wanted to play. The last time around I tried to control the situation which led to confusion, this time I let things take care of themselves which turned out to be a much easier way of conducting business silently. Last time Matt and I had a different clerk who gives me trouble even when I can speak. He always tries to charge my client full price when he has been getting a discounted rate there for many years.

Matt is an amazing bowler, he bowled for the Special Olympics for many years and I have witnessed him bowl over 200! When Matt bowls I usually provide a lot of support Silent support was an obstacle I now had to learn how to overcome. I began clapping, even if he was not knocking all the pins down. I smiled whenever possible, stood closer then usual, touched his shoulder from time to time, and provided as many high-fives as possible.

Later that evening my friends and I had another game night. About ten of us gathered at my friend’s apartment, and cranium was the first game up. A few people were reluctant to have me on their team, referring to me as a weakness. I had brought my dry-erase board, and with it I became my teams designated artist. The first opportunity our team had to play was an eyes closed drawing problem, with in the first 10 seconds my team had guessed what I was drawing. I was slowly realizing that speaking was not even required to accomplish many of these challenges as lots of them did not allow you to talk anyways. Long story short, the team with the silent link in the chain ended up winning. Having adjusted to having to interact with the world through symbols, makeshift sign language, and being able to write words with hast made me everything but a inconvenience, it made a an advantage. I have become more efficient at speaking with out speaking, life in a nonverbal world.

Further into the evening, my ability to empathize with those who are communicably impaired expanded greatly. Inside of me is a vocabulary that I am unable articulate with written word. I am a terrible speller and my dyslexia was beginning to prevail. One of my most common dyslexic mistakes is reversing the lowercase b and d, and that I did. Present were a few people that never even met me before, they have never heard me speak. I felt inadequately represented by my communication restriction, and there was nothing that I could do about it. The feeling inside of me was a form of irritation that I had never experienced before. I was upset, I was angry, and there was nothing that I could do to express it or explain myself.

In my line of work I have assisted many individuals that were completely aware of the world around them, but due to a debilitating disease were not able to communicate or interact. They have thoughts, feelings, emotions, and ideas that they can not voice. Granted my limitations were self inflicted and not at all debilitating, I had a glimpse into the world of someone who is. Imagine how it must feel to be completely conscious and not be able to speak or even have basic mussel control. Now imagine you are being pushed in a wheelchair through a mall, and have to look at people view you as a monstrosity. As your arms twitch and saliva glands salivate out of control, you are having clear thoughts but can not express them. I am of course over exaggerating, but to make a point. I was falling victim to this on a much smaller level. My silence has once again allowed my to walk the shoes of someone that is close impossible to identify with.

01.07.2010 DAY VII
Anticipation is in the air, I am very excited to hear my own voice and re-experience laughter. At the strike of midnight tonight, January seventh, I am going to speak my first words of 2010. I will be out with my friends, a Thursday night tradition.

Throughout the day I spent a lot of time thinking. I was soon going to be able to talk and yet a part of me did not want to. Yes it would make things easier, but is that something I even want? This modern western civilization is seems programmed to innovate an easier way of existence. Its aim is a hassle free life, but where is the fun in that? Some of the best times of my life were spent going under, over, or around obstacles. Does skimming the synopsis of a movie suffice, or do we yearn for the intimate details of the story? I cherish the little things in life: slipping on ice and catching my balance, the rush of accelerating through a yellow light, or getting lost and having to find my own way home. These challenges, or inconveniences society would rather define them, allow us the opportunity to see who we really are, to measure ourselves at least once. It’s important in life to not necessarily be strong, but to feel strong.

Modern civilization and technology is slowly removing all the challenges we face in life, its hard to experience anything original or even real anymore; another reason for my silence. Also it’s said that technology is supposed to bring us closer together but I feel that it just alienates us. I can send an instant message to china, order a pizza, and comment on my friend’s Facebook page with minimal key strokes, but yet I have no idea who my neighbors are. I feel more connected to the world by removing my ability to communicate with it vocally. It makes my interactions more meaningful. While silent and communicating with someone, it often became a very intimate experience. Words were chosen very carefully from both parties, and conversation slowed down, a refreshing break from hasty meaningless chatter.

At 12:03 am Friday the 8^th I spoke my first words of 2010. My silence was broken by the recital of a quotation from Leonardo Da Vinci, “Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.” I idolize Leonardo Da Vinci. I can identify with him and his endless intellectual inclinations. I share many of his scientific interests, personality traits, and admire his attitude towards life. He is deemed by many to be the greatest and most intelligent person to have ever walked the Earth. Unfortunately he is only widely famous for his paintings. Discovered and published to late, his journals reveal that his mind predated by hundreds of years those of the Wright Brothers, Galileo, Igor Sikorsky, Alfred Wegener, and the list goes on. An amazing observation made by him was that our eyes see by letting light inside. Science at the time dictated our eyes projected the visual world in front of us.

Once I began talking it as if an imaginary shield was lifted. The silence made me feel separated from the immediate world around me. I felt unplugged or like a fly on the wall, but once I became vocal I was reintegrated into the world. I was able to say what was on my mind, share in laughter, and just felt closer to those around me.

Overall Observations
People generally assumed that I was deaf, dumb, or mute. Even thought I establish again and again my ability to hear, I was astounded at how many would try reply to me in written word. A lot of my friends reported that because I was silent, they felt like they could not talk. I was contagious, the host of the virus of silence. It became clear to me that as silent as I could possibly be I was louder then ever before.

I noticed a dampened subjectivity to vocalizing when startled. Usually when I stub my toe or hear a loud clang, I vocalize. I found it peculiar that I was even able to control my reflexes at the autonomic level. Once I allowed my self to speak, it was like a switch was flipped. I was immediately letting out sighs, cries, and ouches. It’s nice to know that if need be I have the ability to control my reactions. I can choose to be silent.

I did feel a strange sense of being alone while silent, even in the presence of my friends. I could be standing among companions, listening and even participating in conversation, nonetheless I felt by myself. When we talk with our friends and family we speak our minds. It’s almost an instantaneous event, thought and word. However in my case, there were always delays, and moments were constantly slipping by. I was not able to be my outward self, and I am sure it was not only apparent to me. After a while I just gave up on trying to add to conversations unless I felt it absolutely necessary, and inconsequence I felt alone.

I was a prisoner in my own mind. As time passed, my mind flooded with thoughts. I was thinking faster, deeper, and more clearly then ever before, but keeping everything inside Thoughts grow, mature, and develop over time like seeds. Silence was the fertilizer to my field of thoughts. My ideas were incubated, cultivating more diverse and developed concepts and theories. Trapped inside my own mind I was forever observing, processing and thinking.

Silence taught me that many take language for granted. We live in a world that is very difficult and even shunning for those who are silent; so my experience educated me. Silence opened my eyes to see that language, written or spoken, is our most valuable tool. It allows us to live and learn from experiences that are not our own. It allows us visit the past producing a reduction of mistakes in the future. Without it, everything would have to be learned hands on or by personal demonstration. It also taught me that a lot of our language is communicated unconsciously. Our bodies speak without us even knowing it most of the time; this is how I often communicated. Hand gestures, eye movements, our bodies can be louder then our words. Silence placed me more in tune with my body and even more aware of the body language of those around me.

I now understand that it’s not what we say; it’s how we say it. Human beings since the beginning of time have significantly relied upon symbols, as we still today. This being said, a single word with symbolic implication can say more then a key note speaker. Swastika: behind this word are powerful feelings, violent experiences, war, death, and possibly more books then a single library can house. Granted it may not mean the same thing to all of those around the world, its original meaning of peace dates back to the Neolithic period. Stolen by the Germans and used to associate with the actions of the Nazi regime, its meaning has changed to the eyes of the western world; even outlawed in Germany. What I am getting at here is we can say more by speaking less. People often over explain things, at times drowning their points. I learned to choose my words more carefully, because one word can say more then all the words in the world.

Amsterdam

My initial impression of this city was beauty, followed by the sensation that everyone wanted to steal my camera, sell me drugs, or hurt me. I must have been asked to buy cocaine over 100 times with in a few days there. As I walked around the city, I saw what it was and what it could be. The feeling I had was that the whole downtown area was taken over by a college frat.

How does this city function? How is its government viewed by other governments? How can anyone take this city seriously? These are some of the questions that ran through my mind as I strolled around and over the canal guided streets. This city was in a cloud; latterly.

Experiences

As my friends and I sat in a burger shop booth with a street view, we witnessed a homeless man panhandling, and someone out of the kindness of their heart handed him a basket of fries. This man did not seem like the homeless I am used to back home, he appeared to be seriously deranged, disturbed, and possibly psychotic. His hand shook with tremor, the fries scattered out on the streets in small bursts, and his whole body jolted as me murmured sounds. With in seconds there were few fries left, and in one last spasm he threw the basket in the air; leg twitching and screaming.

The red-light district, this place was very unique. Here you were subjected to seduction from some of the most beautiful women alive, and simultaneously some of the most repulsive women alive. As tempting as it was, I did not allow myself to succumb to their requests; I don’t risk disease.

For a moment, my friends and I stood still just people watching and talking about our journeys through Europe. All of the sudden I heard music very loud, as if a I was in the middle of a club dance floor. I looked over to see that one of the red-light girls opened the door to seduce a passerby. I looked in awe at the soundproofing of the door, and decided to ask her if it actually was.  Her ears battered by the sounds of her boom box, she could not make out what I was saying so I repeated my question “is that door sound proof.” My mind was flourishing with thoughts by the millisecond about how it was, and why. I thought maybe they did it so the streets were not flooded with the sounds of happy customers, but wouldn’t that make great advertising? With in moments after the third repeat, she called me a fucking fagot loser, and laughed at me and the passerby joined in on the ridicule as well. I was called a faggot loser by a prostitute, awesome!

The Climate
I was there in March, and the weather was similar to a late spring afternoon. It did not rain while I was there, it sunny most of the time.

Story coming soon.

Biography:
Matt was born on January 8th 1960 with a case of mild mental retardation. His mother obtained a BA in Science from Bates college Lewistown Maine. She taught math for a sum of 32 years, and still tutors past her retirement. His father was a very accomplished musician. He taught at the Stone School of Business in New Haven. He was an accountant with many private clients. As a professional musician, he was treasure of the musicians union, taught music, and played with many famous musicians; even played in the White House. He played the saxophone and the clarinet primarily, but he was able to perform on every instrument he could get his hands on; passing on at the young age of forty four. Matt participated in many Special Olympic Games, and has about 30 medals; I have seen them displayed in his home. He competed in soccer, bowling, swimming (freestyle and relays), softball, and track & field. He also carried the torch for two years at the Special Olympic games and he is a fourth degree knight with the Knights of Columbus.

Matt has maintained employment for a single business for 31 years to date, and is very enthusiastic about his work. He is usually always in a good mood and is the most polite person that I know. We spend a good amount of time in coffee shops in downtown New Haven and no matter which one we enter, most of the staff knows him by name.

Art:
Matt had not had any formal introduction to art prior to our introduction. The first exercise we did was a free drawing exercise in pencil and charcoal (picture coming soon). He chose to draw his home. We worked on several others over the course of a few months working on his hand movements, developing his sense of perception, and bringing him more familiar with his artistic side.

Opening up and becoming more passionate about his work I exposed him to acrylic paint. First we worked on his stroke. The first painting we did was simply a free drawing with a limit to three colors; I did not want to overwhelm him or his first piece with the endless color possibilities (picture#1).

Keeping the colors also to a minimum for his second painting also, I introduced him to the possibility of layering. We chose a miniature statue of the Eiffel Tower as our subject (picture2).

For his third painting, I let him flip through a book of Claude Oscar Monet’s work for some inspiration. He came across a painting of a life size portrait commissioned by Madame Gaudibert (picture#3), and decided to paint it. I first had his show me where the ground line was on the painting, then imagine where it would be in his canvas and draw it there. Next we went over the items in Monet’s painting such as the woman, umbrella, grass, and clouds. He showed me where the thought they should be on his blank canvas, and we marked them. With his rough outline of everything on the blank canvas in pencil, I sketched the outlines of some of the finer details, such as the scarf, her head, and the umbrella. Teaching him more about layering, I pointed him in the direction of his conclusion that the sky should be painted first so that she can be painted over it. I had him pick out the colors in the painting, and then I made the white a little warmer to replicate Monet’s painting; explaining everything to him. I created two piles of white, and of the blue. A cool and warm variety of each and demonstrated how he can have a little of both on his brush at the same time to recreate the depth in Monet’s painting. With the completion of the sky, we then worked on Madam Gaudibert’s umbrella, her scarf, and lastly her body. To achieve the effect of the sun hitting the backside of her dress, I asked Matt where the lightest area of her dress was, and then were he thought the sun might be. His eyes lit up as he said “that’s why her dress is lighter there, I got it Dave, I got it.” Last of all was the grass. This is where I let Matt go freely, picking the colors, mixing the colors, and placing the paint on the canvas. The painting was completed over the course of roughly 3 months (picture#4).

Antigua – Description coming soon.

The Climate
Warm and comfortable day and night. I was there during their winter so it was not that bad.

The Vibe
Description coming soon.

What’s more alive, my reflections or I?
Do they reveal my inner side?

Are shiny surfaces doors to parallel universes?
Where everything is opposite, and I am the inverse

Do my loves become my hates?
Do my hates become my loves?
Or can I feel here and not there?
Do I breathe, and is there air?

Maybe that world is more real then this one, lately that would make more sense.
For I feel nothing like myself, and everything is less intense.

My hobbies are boring,
Things just feel a mess,
My free time feels wasted,
And I feel noting beating inside my chest.

What do I have to do to feel alive?
To feel happy,
Get excited,
To feel loved,
And not pushed aside.

When I look in a mirror, do I see my other side?
Do I see the positive me looking back at the negative side?

Am I real, am I alive?

David E. McCarthy
05/2008

San Pedro – Is a very small and deselect city that’s about a 5 hour bus ride west of Antigua. The city is one of the few that exist around lake Atitlan. The lake is known for its beauty and treasured by the locals and travelers world wide. Sadly it is becoming heavily polluted. The lake was littered with plastics and garbage in all the areas that I could access it. I was told by a local in Guatemala City that I must see it while its still beautiful, and I am glad I took her advice.

The Climate
Warm and comfortable day and night. I was there during their winter so it was not that bad.

The Vibe
Three steps off the bus and even while a few still remain on, you are bombarded with beggars and people looking to get you into their hostels and hotels. Tired and not looking forward to walking around or price shopping, I decided to go with a guide to the first hostel offered. On the walk I bartered all the way down to 30q a night from 100q, that’s about $4.00 US.

The night life was great. I met up with a woman from Switzerland and we went to a bar right on the lake. The steps to the bar were lit with about 30 red candles. Live music and cheap mojitos made my night in San Pedro very pleasant.

Tikal – Is one of the largest archaeological sites and urban centres of the pre-Columbian Maya civilization. It is located in the archaeological region of the Petén Basin in what is now modern-day northern Guatemala. Situated in the department of El Petén, the site is part of Guatemala’s Tikal National Park and in 1979 it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Tikal was the capital of a conquest state that became one of the most powerful kingdoms of the ancient Maya. Though monumental architecture at the site dates back as far as the 4th century BC, Tikal reached its apogee during the Classic Period, ca. 200 to 900 AD, during which time the city dominated much of the Maya region politically, economically, and militarily while interacting with areas throughout Mesoamerica, such as the great metropolis of Teotihuacan in the distant Valley of Mexico; there is evidence that Tikal was conquered by Teotihuacan in the 4th century AD. Following the end of the Late Classic Period, no new major monuments were built at Tikal and there is evidence that elite palaces were burned. These events were coupled with a gradual population decline, culminating with the site’s abandonment by the end of the 10th century.

Getting there
Being completely exhausted, I forgot what day it was and deemed it impossible to make to Tikal by bus from Antigua. Thinking it was a day ahead, I missed my actual chance at the 9 hour bus trip to Tikal because I only had 3 days left in Guatemala. Determined to see the ruins I was not giving up. I immediately began price shopping for plane tickets, and soon enough I was off to tikal. Arriving in Flores at 9:00pm I spoiled myself with the only hotel with a pool being that I was not going to have enough time to enjoy the town. Asleep by 12:00am, I was up at 5:00am to catch the 1.5 hour bus to the temples.

The Climate
Very Very Very Very Very Very hot.

Being in the Mayan Ruins
Walking off the bus, I was starving and the only thing available to eat were pre-made sandwiches and tea. I bought one and opened it up. With first look it seemed something had died in it. The English girl I met on the bus said that it looked good to her. After her first bite she nearly vomited and we both requested our money back.

Site Map

With in a few steps into the jungle at about 7:00 am you are able to hear the jungle come alive. Monkeys and birds are screaming and high and low pitch, it was quite intimidating.

Being around all the temples was an experience like none other. They were massive, everywhere, and extremely far apart.  To walk from one side of the takes about 2 hours. I met up with a private tour guide and picked his brain in the main plaza for about an hour and a half. He taught me all about the Mayan calendar and the temples all around. They were very smart people, with mathematical skills more superior then ours today.  He also told me that this site would be similar to the Las Vegas of today.  He said that there was no trees, the jungle was completely cleared out like the metropolises of today.

There was no food available in the inside the ruins other then chips and cola. Other then drinking mostly water and a few colas, I had not eaten that entire day till 5:30 pm. I photographed the first meal that day, and its in this gallery

Walking aimlessly through the rain-forest, I found a worker excavating a newly found pyramid. Being by his side for about 20 minutes and talking, I was able to influence him into giving me a few Mayan ceramic fragment artifacts.

Getting out
I had only one day in Tikal, and spent every ounce of it at the ruins. The bus driver decided to skip the 4:00 shuttle back to Flores and force everyone to wait for the 5:00 shuttle because there was not enough people to make a profit. With a plane ticket for 7:00 out of Flores to Guatemala city and a quick turnaround from there back to the states, I was completely helpless. Nevertheless, we departed from Tikal at 5:30, and went out of the way to drop off all the drivers friends that worked at the ruins. trying to be nice, he knew that I had to go the airport, and without telling me went even farther out of the way to bring me directly there with out telling me. We showed up at the airport but my bag was still at the hotel. Now I had to get to the hotel and back to the airport in 15 minutes; I made it.

Thinking that they would not allow me to keep the artifacts, and not wanting to go to a third world jail, I decided to hide them in my checked luggage. One of them slipped my eye and remained in my carry on. I was extremely frightened that they would know what it was and call the local authorities. A tourist who saw it said, “oh wow that’s that?” I replied with, “ohh I don’t know, I found it.” I was allowed to run back to the baggage check and reinsert it into my bag;after a lot of convincing. After rechecking my bag, I then walked right onto the plane; sigh.

http://dailyapple.blogspot.com/2007/05/apple-242-sinkholes.html

Location-
03.08.07 Base2 live at Daniel Street Club

Members-
Vocals – Jamie
Guitar – Kashif
Drums – Mat
Violin – Ben
Bass- Marty

Label-
Thin Man Records

Type of Label-
Indie

Contact-
http://www.myspace.com/base2
www.base2music.com

Location-
12.05.2006 The Weepies live at Daniel Street Club
+ opening act

Members-
Deb Talan
Steve Tannen

Record Label-
Nettwerk

Type of Label-
Indie

Contact-
http://www.theweepies.com
http://www.myspace.com/theweepies

Location-
11.29.06 Johnny Winter live at Daniel Street Club

Members-
Johnny Winter

Record Label-
Bullseye Management

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
http://www.johnnywinter.net/
http://www.myspace.com/johnnywinterguitarist

Location-

12.28.2005 kaki king live at Daniel Street Club

Members-
Kaki King

Record Label-
Velour Music Group

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
http://www.kakiking.com/
http://www.myspace.com/kakiking

Location-
03.29.2007 hella live at Daniel Street Club

Members-
Spencer Seim
Zach Hill

Record Label-
Pabulum

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
www.hellaband.com
http://www.myspace.com/realhella

Location-

03.27.2007 purple cow story live at Daniel Street Club

Members-
Alyse – vocals
Alyse – guitar
Jeffy- bass
Nate Rose- drums

Record Label-
Unsigned

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
http://www.myspace.com/thepurplecowstory

Location-
03.27.2007 eula live at Daniel Street Club

Members-
Alyse – vocals
Alyse – guitar
Jeffy- bass
Nate Rose- drums

Record Label-
Unsigned

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
http://www.eulamusic.com/main.php?page=press
http://www.myspace.com/eulamusic

Location-
03.24.2007 eula live at the nest

Members-
Alyse – vocals
Alyse – guitar
Jeffy- bass
Nate Rose- drums

Record Label-
Unsigned

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
http://www.eulamusic.com/main.php?page=press
http://www.myspace.com/eulamusic

Location-
03.17.2007 falling season live at Toads Place New Haven CT

Members-
C.J. D – vocals
Ashs – guitar
Rob S – bass
Ken K – drums

Record Label-
Unsigned

Type of Label-
n/a

Contact-
http://www.myspace.com/fallingseasonband

Location-
03.24.2007 dxb Live at the nest

Members-
Devin and Jack

Record Lable-
PRGNT

Type of Label-
Indie

Contact-
myspace.com/dxbdxb
prgntrecords.com

Location-
03.08.2007 Covin live at Daniel Street Cafe, Milford CT

Members-
Chris Taylor – Vocals
Eric – Lead Guitar & Vocals
Jaxi – Bass & Vocals
Johnny – Drums

Record Lable-
Asbestos Records

Type of Label-
Indie

Contact-
http://www.myspace.com/covin

Location-
03.24.2007 Bloarzeyd Live at the nest

Members-
Phil – Bass
Mike – Drums
Batman – Other Stuff

Music Video
http://davidmccarthymedia.com/video/music-videos/

Record Lable-
woodenman records

Type of Label-
Indie

Contact-
http://www.myspace.com/bloarzeyd
http://bloarzeyd.gyrate.org/

Youtube

Band photography myspace

Flickr

Explore your creative side this fall with visual art classes and workshiops for adults and young people. Look for classes like Exciting the Eye, Basketry: Not Your Mother’s Breadbasket, Advanced Photoshop, and much more. Early enrollment is encouraged due to limited class size so register today!

Creative Arts Workshop

80 Audubon Street

New Haven, Connecticut

06510

p) 203.562.4927   f) 203.562.2329

Arts And Crafts Sale:

October 31 – December 24: 41st Annual Celebration of American Crafts. An exhibition and sale of fine contemporary crafts by over 300 artists across the country representing the finest in glass, ceramics, jewelry, wearable and decorative fiber, handcrafted furniture and much more. Open Mon-Sat 11-6, Thursdays 11-8, Sundays 1-5, Dec 24 11-2.

Trailer 1

Trailer 2

A little harsh I know, but I was unaware that I could not ride my bicycle through there and I apologized for it. For reasons that I didn’t understand, he dragged it out and kept provoking me. One can only resist for so long, and I should only have to apologize once.

There’s a lot that can be learned from this experience.

My Journey toward Present Day

Early Childhood age
I was born in Derby Connecticut on July 30th 1982, although predicted to be born August 3rd. I am the only one in my family to not be born in August, I guess I was anxious to start life. I have always had a powerful imagination, creating many different worlds around me with art. Paper and crayons, forts under and in trees, villages out of rocks sticks and matchbox cars, I used what ever I could get my hands on to build. I wrote my first poem in first grade about a deer that I saw outside of the classroom window as I was daydreaming. I have always been fascinated by the world around me but more importantly, how I could affect it. As early as I can remember I have always been captivated by the stars above, distant lands, and existence itself; I can remember as far back as my first birthday. I spent many of my childhood days sitting in the grass, up on a hill, or just staring out my bedroom window thinking as I still do today.

Primary School age
I began to go on many close adventures, each one probing farther and farther from home. I continually felt a strong attraction to what lied just a little farther away. Either by foot, bicycle, skateboard, or imagination, I would consistently push my limits. I was the kid in my neighborhood that could always come up with something to do. I was able to come up fresh ideas right on the spot, or find a great place to build a new fort. At the age of seven I was placed into a private advanced drawing course. I played with paints, pastels, and charcoal on and off till about the age of thirteen. I would draw from time to time, but less and less as I grew older. My creativity was shifting toward my intellectual inclinations with science. My imaginative worlds now existed in the realms of science and would grow larger the more I learned. My mind was like a sponge absorbing facts like water, but unfortunately my grades did not reflect my ability to learn.

It was not made apparent until my junior year of undergrad that I’m dyslexic. I was over loaded with coursework and I began recording problems in statistics class backwards off the blackboard. Advised to see a specialist by my Spanish professor, I was soon diagnosed. Dyslexia makes testing what I actually know difficult because I store and access information much differently then most people. I think mainly in a primary sense (in pictures). It makes dates and names almost impossible to remember, but gives me the ability to remember things in great detail. I don’t think of it as a learning disorder but rather a gift. It changes how I see the world allowing me to think and observe things much differently then most people. I innately learned to counteract it as a child, and because of this I am able to view the world in and out of the box constantly delivering a fresh perspective. And hey, Albert Einstein was dyslexic!

High School
I was just as confused as the next kid, only I was happy. As most of the kids I knew caved to peer pressure, I did not succumb to it. I did not indulge in mind altering substances or even care to. All I ever wanted to do was ride my bicycle; my drug of choice. Spending long days venturing farther and farther from home on my bicycle, I would explore new cities, learn new tricks, or compete in more national races. I joined the National Bicycle League when I was 14 and competed till I was about 18. If I was not racing I was building trails (jumps) in the woods to get higher and higher; as most of my classmates achieved this feeling artificially. On my fifteenth birthday I was gifted a camcorder and with it the journalist in me had a new medium to escape through. I began to capture everything from my friends to the extreme sports that I participated in. I edited my first BMX video with nothing more then my camcorder, VCR, and CD player. The first time I left my home state on my own was at the age of 16. I took a bus to Colorado to learn how to snowboard in the Rocky Mountains. My eyes were wide open and my camcorder hardly left my hand. That trip surfaced my desires to travel the world, making me more conscious of myself. Not too long after I came home I was gifted my first 35mm camera (a Nikon N2000) for my 16th birthday by my father Kevin David McCarthy. Learning some of the basics by trailing close behind him, my interest for photography quickly grew into a passion.

One summer morning while on summer break before the start of my junior year of high school, I woke up; literally. That day I felt very different inside, and decided to change a lot of things about my life. I completely removed myself from the negative social groups I was involved with, leaving me with maybe two friends. I decided that I would start applying myself in school in the hopes to get into college. That summer my cumulative GPA was about a 1.3. Upon graduation, my junior and senior year cumulative GPA was around a 3.5. I applied to one college, Southern Connecticut State University and was accepted. People can change and I am living proof.

Undergrad
I was not by any means properly prepared for college and my first semester grades heavily reflected that. I only received one good mark, an A in psychology 101. So from there on out I took psychology classes mixing in one or two art classes a semester.

In college I united my desire to travel, with my newly developed passion for photography thus beginning my endless endeavor to travel around the world. My Nikon N2000 soon saw the sun set in Santa Monica California, the night sky of Las Vegas Nevada, and even over the Great Wall of China. It was at S.C.S.U that I revisited my artistic side. I was being introduced to new mediums constantly allowing me to reexplore my childhood passions. I was creating worlds again, and art was becoming a significant part of my life. My mind was learning and exploring science and art simultaneously allowing for some very unique perspectives in both fields. Ironically enough, I was actually told by my photography professor that I did not even like photography, “Why are you taking this class, you don’t even like photography.”

I graduated from Southern Connecticut State University in May 2006 with a B.A. in psychology, and a minor in studio art.

Graduate School
I was working as a television broadcaster for Ascent Media in Stamford during the summer of 2008. One day my uncle called me up and asked me what I was doing with my life and insisted that I look into art therapy as a career. With the very little research I did decided to go for it. Within three weeks to that day I had quit my job, applied to Albertus Magnus College for the Masters of Art Therapy program, was accepted, and found a local job working with the mentally ill.  I wrote my entry essay on driving to work through I95 traffic, feeling like a lost robot to life, and I even referenced my poem from first grade.

Art Therapy is a soothing combination of Art and Psychology. The perfect career for me, blending my right and left hemispheres together, science and art. I plan on incorporating my passions for photography and travel into this recently booming career. I hope to one day use my abilities to make contributions to the field and to make a difference in the world.

I continue to follow my dreams and keep the kid in me alive.

• Print only:

8×12     = $45.00

11×14   = $55.00

• Frame and custom matte:

8×12     = $85.00

11×14   = $115.00

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I am proud to offer private lessons for any level of photography. Digital or Film. Lessons can be taught on your time, at a location convenient for you, and as often as you desire.

History and basic introduction
Become familiar with your camera
Event specific lessons
Night and day time lessons
Studio flash
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And much more…

Photography Rates
$45.00/hour
First session: Includes complementary half an hour to get to know each other, simple camera questions, and to go over what it is you want to learn.

Digital work flow / photoshop rates
$45.00/hour
First session: Includes complementary half an hour to get to know each other, and to go over what it is you want to learn.

Please email me for questions. me at davidmccarthymedia dot com

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Real Serious Doin Stuff – Episode 2 Light Bulb

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