After Dan: Nationless and New York Educated

Adjusting Tone Colour

Daniel I. Patterson — Mon, 23 May 2011 21:26:47 +0000

How does it feel to live in Seville, Spain?

Daniel I. Patterson — Thu, 05 May 2011 17:03:07 +0000

Between the drum and bass clubs, the raunch festivals, letting the animal come out in beds we never paid for, working long hours in the Sevillen sun, building a bar, living in a tiny room with 8 others, and meeting some the best people I know – I had a feeling. That feeling can now be heard with this song that describes living in Seville Spain – ah what fun!!

Some of my first photos

Daniel I. Patterson — Sat, 26 Mar 2011 16:10:49 +0000

Solid Music to Live By

Daniel I. Patterson — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 03:37:58 +0000

This track, by Kill the Noise enhances activities such as working out, reading, writing, showering, walking, opening doors, riding bikes, walking into buildings, sitting down, standing up, smiling, and being excited. It is awesome.

Writer’s Block.

Daniel I. Patterson — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 05:42:21 +0000

Stop. Drop everything you are doing. Take your open palms off your eyes. Remove your jacket and listen. Listen to yourself. Listen closer. Focus. Release the idea of throwing your burning fists against the white table in front of you. Let loose your thickest thoughts , as loose as dry sand. Let them roll into the winds in every which way, like ten billion multicolored ribbons from your mind physically streaming into the sky. The sky is a flaky, fragile, unreal boundary easily shattered with one swift blow. Writing may produce drivel and when shared, people may turn to onslaught, searching to strike you down. They may dislodge you with tortuous lashes while they chant hymns for the damned. Yet, do not arrest. Acceptance by their mistaken minds is not and cannot be the driving force. It is passion that drives the soul to practice the art of penciling in the page.

Words can be used to pry open micro and macro Multiverses to infinite stretches. Teeming with farms of DNA, exploding elves, talking towering trees, satisfied tigers, whistling arrowheads, titanic mountain ranges sitting to your left, rooms colored golden with water pipes, blue ropes, exotic Indian spices, decorative tea jars, richly colored rugs, yellow tented sand dunes, an atmosphere so clear you can peer for hundreds of miles. The mind contains enchanted forests with thin branched trees, arched doorways leading to satanic preying grounds, forest floors of purple flower bells and families of peacefully piglets pleasantly pacing along – in a militant ques, searching out their next meal of acorns.

This process, which I know subjectively well, may change minds with fixed perceptions and its effects are sometimes chilling. My eyes lead my head left and right, dragging by my tall limp lanky body in circles. I cry dumb and deaf. A hook drags me around around around, I spin, I spin, I spin. I am addicted to the cause that finishes my body flaccid. The pain involved puts such strain on my soul it causes me to regurgitate tainted darkness, which tastes like disgusting tar – so horrid. The mucky haze engulfs one tree, one house, one road sign at a time. It is airy spit infused with frilling moths, a million flies, darting paper wasps and has a droning whine that sends back skin to defend. Writing, maliciously haunts my soul. It rips my mandible from my skull. But in truth, this pleasant process is additive.

Epic Mountain Biking in New York Snow

Daniel I. Patterson — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 16:30:40 +0000

Last night New York received a timely gift of knee-high snow. Before the powder was too deep a friend and I set out on all-mountain race bikes with a belly full of booze and flask full of classy Even’s Ale. With all the snow, the entire city became a unique and temporary trail course. The best part had to of been blazing down Central Avenue competing in a snowy version of bike derby. We attempted total demolition by battering one another with swinging shoulders and crushing elbows - coupled with triumphant war calls. We rode well, spectators cheered, and nobody was hurt. The local dive in welcomed us warmly.

Yet damn this morning – it has me feeling I was hit with a beast Lorrie truck. Maybe the face-first collisions with the concrete, maybe the shit whiskey. Wonder if my buddy feels the same. 11:30a and I’m now off to venturing back into the snow, pa-ka.

A Favorite and One True Lifestyle Theme Song

Daniel I. Patterson — Sun, 26 Dec 2010 18:39:04 +0000

This is my new favorite song. Benga’s Diary of an Afro Warrior is midnight dance parties, bobbing heads, romping hips, and loose cutting arms. Entrancing. As I work steadfast to set up the next journey traveling across Asia to raise money for environmental and social justice, music like this is common. Not only here, also while riding bikes, at dance parties and going about my everyday festives. It’s a true lifestyle theme song. ~

Camalus, Bikes and Back Home

Daniel I. Patterson — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 19:16:36 +0000

I may be a ‘third culture kid’ and often struggle with my heritage/identity, yet some of you know I was born in Scotland, and hold these roots high with burning fists. The pagan god Camalus clearly has empowered me with some of his might and I in no way stand aloof from my Celtic roots. I’m also a cyclist – a devoted one at that. This video brings forth the cyclist and war god in me just before I set my steed ablaze down these New York streets.

5 Dogs That Look Totally Baked

Daniel I. Patterson — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 18:00:08 +0000

Feeling totally gutted after applying for a trainer position, which I’m sure will also be applied for by PhD graduates, nuclear naval officers and astronauts - I needed a laugh. Here’s a few pictures of some dogs that look totally baked.

Now, I don’t use these drugs but after scrolling through the photos at the graduate library, I did succeed in making myself look like a giggling bafoon.

More seen at BuzzFeed

Anatomy of an Avocado

Daniel I. Patterson — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 11:27:02 +0000

Pick one up. What’s the feel? Firm, soft, rough, smooth? Run fingers over the top and find immediate awe at the smooth nature of the coarse skin. Realize it is only an exoskeleton and curiosity rises over this odd prehistoric object. It bumps, it lumps and if the imagination dives down to a level unseen, it can drift across the great rifts and swelling peaks. No geometric design, like simmering rice.
Rest the flight and sit right down. An idea comes to mind. Mining! What’s this find? Green gold, its silky smooth and smells of exotic aromas – an aphrodisiac! Now indulge, eat away – feel empowered. This high caloric intake has given momentous energy. Keep mining like a fervorous battle to reach the remote depths of the unknown fruit. Twist, push, slosh and toss in those the buttery biles – become attracted and cry out for more.
Finally the shaped cave is massive, very open. So large, have we dug right through? Now expand – and watch all the chunks rain to the ground, don’t pick them up, just gaze motionless at the demolition. There re no crumbles or cracks, instead, the innards now lay all around. Messy. Laying on the floor, all alone the pit is found; nearly a third the size of the prehistoric piece. Pick up up and plant it in the ground.

Lay the pit right-side up, with water and watch it grow to as many smooth coarse objects as desired. A plant to be eaten in many ways, mix it, spread it smash it – taste it.