Blog entries for 5PM

FIRESTARTER FILMS #6

5PM — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 19:53:41 GMT

Every two months, for the past year, FIRESTARTER FILMS has created countless opportunities for local filmmakers to gain exposure for their films along with the ability to network with others who are talented in filmmaking. Attendees have ranged from directors, producers, actors, composers, writers, cinematographers and more.

The next event is: November 13th. Networking is from 6pm to 7pm. Film Screenings start at 7pm and run till or past midnight. Located at Live Artists Studio - 228 S 1st Street, Milwaukee.

Participate in the 2 Minute Film Competition. Subject is "trees," the rest is up to you. Films due by day of event, November 13th.

Obsolete Earth - Vital Source Short Story Contest Entry

5PM — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 22:49:35 GMT

Isaiah Brauxley didn't care much for science. He failed his Astronomy 101 class at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee Campus. He was too busy studying the body structure of Miranda Wright, whom he met in Ethno Environmental Studies class. Conversations with her were fascinating. She always had a tempting look on her face every time her long blond hair with strawberry highlights fell down from behind her ears. He began to view her not only as a person, but also a cooperative sexual partner. Isaiah wondered if the tap water wasn't laced with enough focus improvement medication anymore. The enhancement of the tap water was supposed to help remove unnecessary sexual thoughts. Even if he did have sex with Miranda, there was enough birth control in the tap water to kill off any chance for her ever having children. Isaiah pondered giving sex a try if no physical repercussions existed.

Isaiah took Miranda somewhere special for her first sexual experience, the Milwaukee Art Museum. The building had become abandoned ever since the environmental laws restricted leisure travel. Those laws were put into place after the prohibition of fossil fuel. All the artwork was left inside the building since moving it anywhere else broke several laws concerning intentional harm to the planet through transportation. Isaiah and Miranda went to the second floor to try many sexual positions on the same red couch Mrs. Bradley had used to check her mail. They had sex until they felt some sort of expertise about it. Afterward, they remained naked on the couch dozing in and out of consciousness.

"What if I told you I'm tired of something?" Isaiah said readjusting his posture on Mrs. Bradley’s couch while they both looked out the picture window to the clear night sky.

"Tired of what?" Miranda asked as she held onto Isaiah a little bit tighter.

"Tired of the planet," Isaiah said as he rested his head on hers, "Earth is overrated."

Miranda pulled her head back and looked straight into Isaiah's eyes, "We can't leave the planet."

"That's like saying humans shouldn't drive cars or fly airplanes."

"Maybe we shouldn't,” Miranda agreed, “Remember, I was one of the first to fly a spaceship."

"Miranda, you went with your family on a private space cruise ship that orbited the planet. You were strapped into a comfy leather seat and given a bright red button to push to make you feel useful. The computers did the rest of the work for you."

"There was no pilot,” Miranda’s words snapped, “I was the pilot. I flew it into space by pressing that red button."

"Did all the other passengers have red buttons to push?"

"Not passengers, co-pilots,” Miranda said, “Yes, we pushed them all at once. It was a cooperative move so each of us could equally claim the responsibility of flying into space. I’ve been up there. Space is overrated. Stay here on earth with me.”

Isaiah shook his head, “I’d like to leave earth. See what’s out there myself.”

“You might land on a planet that's just like earth," Miranda said, “That would be a waste? Don’t think there’s another woman like me anywhere else in the universe.”

“No, one of the rockets I would take if I could go is headed to Tuscany34 in Galaxy MKultra. There’s a planet similar to earth and it's currently in its Cretaceous period. You know how much I like archeology and dinosaurs."

"I’m sure you don’t get to pick any rocket you like. They aren’t just taking anyone who volunteers on those exploration missions. Why can't museums be enough for your dinosaur obsession?"

Isaiah chuckled to himself, "Why should I limit myself?"

"I don't know, because there are those of us who don't want you to go."

Isaiah thought about those words for a moment, “That's not enough to keep me here on Earth.”

“I’d stop drinking all eight required glasses of tap water for you to stay. I’d even keep the baby if you got me pregnant.”

The next day, Isaiah took his daily walk along the Menomonee River. Ever since the prohibition on fossil fuels, he stopped traveling anywhere, even though he owned an electric Smart Car. Stopping to look down at a spot where the river turned into slight rapids, Isaiah heard odd sounds over head. He looked up expecting to see something he could rationalize. Instead, he saw tree branches braking as an object lowered itself to the water.

He watched what he thought was the world’s largest skipping stone rest on to the Menomonee River without moving. A metal platform began protruding from the skipping stone. It didn’t stop until it tipped down, landing at Isaiah’s feet.

A short grey creature wiggled down the platform. The gravitational pull on the massive grey head caused the body to continually step in any direction necessary to keep gravity from winning. Once the creature stopped in front of Isaiah, it said with a high pitched voice, “Are you an Ambassador for your planet?”

Isaiah felt shocked at the situation and the question, “I don’t think so.”

“If not, I will paralyze you and take you aboard for experiments.”

“Oh, you mean an Ambassador for the planet earth? Of course I am.”

Instead of smiling, the alien grey had dimples which seemed to sink in deeper to signify satisfaction, “Good, I have many questions. Take me to your city center.”

They walked back to Isaiah’s house where he helped the alien grey into the electric Smart Car. They began to drive to downtown Milwaukee.

On the way, Isaiah’s cell phone rang, “Hello? I can’t talk right now. I’m showing someone new around town. No, you don’t know it…I mean him. Talk to you later. Bye.”

“What are you doing?” Alien grey asked.

“I had a phone call.”

“What’s a phone call?”

“Someone wants to talk to me,” Isaiah explained, “So they dial a number and I can hear them through the cell phone.”

“Why don’t they just contact you through their mind?”

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever done that before,” Isaiah said, “Would be nice, since cell phones are expensive.”

“You pay to talk to other humans?” Alien grey asked.

“Yes.”

“This really is a prison planet,” Alien grey said as it wobbled its head back to looking out the passenger window.

The car arrived in downtown Milwaukee. They got out at the Summer Fest grounds.

“Do not worry about me in public,” Alien grey said, “I am invisible to everyone but you.”

“That’s good to know,” Isaiah replied.

“I am still a solid object,” Alien grey said with some hesitation, “Please do not let anyone push me down. I cannot lift my head off your planet if I fall. Earth gravity can kill.”

“Weird, but that’s a deal,” Isaiah said.

“What’s going on in this downtown?”

“There’s a Dying Earth concert. I’ll take you to the main stage.”

Arriving at the main stage, alien grey asked, "Who is the man handing out white bracelets?"

"That's Sir Bono, he's a musician. The ONE bracelet is mandatory for all citizens to wear now with data chips, GPS tracking and tazer sophistication."

Alien grey showed no sign of dimples, “What’s tazer sophistication?”

Isaiah stopped walking, “It’s so the government can zap a person with an electric charge if they are not behaving.”

“That’s the job of a musician?"

“Not normally, but we try to accept people when they want to re-invent themselves. So when he's not singing in a band, he's eradicating poverty on the planet. He advocates debt forgiveness."

"How?"

"With other people’s money mostly."

The cheeks of the alien grey puffed out as he asked, "He doesn't have any plans to leave the planet earth does he?"

"I'm not sure."

"That's okay, we know how to remote control your missile defense satellites. There's a back door to every Windows program. We can dispose of him if he ever tries to leave. You see, I have six slave planets in my solar system. I would not be able to afford trips like this one to your planet without them."

Isaiah asked, “Is there not enough education?"

"No, not enough so-called intelligent beings willingly removing their reproductive organs during puberty."

They walked over to a side stage which was as big as the main stage.

"Who is that man?" Alien grey asked.

"That's Al Gore, he controls the weather."

"Really? Does he hate the variety of weather?"

"Maybe he does," Isaiah said.

"Back home, I love the mudslides on Crescent Mountain, the explosions of the Asmov Volcanoes and the typhoons of Mercury Ocean."

Isaiah tried his best to imagine it, "Sounds wonderful.”

"We have perfected everlasting life, so the only way we can hope for death is through natural disasters."

"What about murder and suicide."

"Outlawed and everyone on the planet follows the law,” Alien grey said, “With a one world order it works. You'll be finding out soon enough. I need to get back to my ship. Can we leave?”

“We just got here,” Isaiah said.

“I need to alert the others who are planning to visit your planet about this Dying Earth concert.”

“You can’t just contact them with your mind?”

“Interplanetary telepathy is impossible.”

Isaiah tried to hide the smirk on his face, “Maybe you should try harder.”

“Maybe I should use you for the experiments humans never live through,” Alien grey said.

“Okay we can go, just give my Smart Car another ten minutes to power up.”

On the drive out of downtown, they passed the Milwaukee County Court House.

“How did your people steal that building from Greece?” Alien grey asked, “You have such primitive transportation methods.”

“That’s how court houses are built,” Isaiah said.

“What happens there?”

“That’s where people who don’t actually do anything in the world decide how guilty the people are who actually do things to advance the planet.”

“How?” Alien grey asked.

“Well, they are in a clean setting with books called laws, comfy chairs and excessive air conditioning. They enforce the laws without ever having to be in any of the situations those laws affect. It’s very lucrative and somehow, very honorable.”

“They must find everyone guilty,” Alien grey said.

Isaiah chuckled to himself, “Almost everyone.”

Back at the skipping stone, Isaiah said to the alien grey, "Take me back to your planet with you."

"No,” Alien grey said, “Get your NAUSEA to take you."

"You mean NASA."

"Yes, NAUSEA. I would bring you back with me, but I’ve surpassed my abduction quota three earth years ago. There’s a peddle bus leaving tomorrow from Milwaukee to Nevada.”

“How do you know about peddle buses and where they’re going?”

“I work with people who are helping humans leave earth,” Alien grey said, “On your own, humans wouldn’t even make it to the moon until earth year 3000.”

“We’ve already been to the moon,” Isaiah said.

“Repetition helps create belief,” Alien grey said disappointedly as he shook his wobbly head, “You could be the fifty-first passenger of the peddle bus.”

“Peddle bus to Nevada?” Isaiah rationalized aloud, “Peddling on stationary bikes with fifty other passengers to Chicago is accomplishable, but to Nevada, would kill me.”

“You humans voted for the prohibition of fossil fuels yourselves. Get on the bus or miss the chance of an existence.”

After returning from the Dying Earth concert, Miranda stopped by Isaiah’s apartment. She made a mental note of Isaiah’s appearance and asked in a pissed off voice, “Where’s your bracelet?”

“I didn’t get one yet.”

“Are you refusing to wear the new ONE bracelet?”

“No, I haven’t had time to…”

"What about the children, world hunger, poverty...injustice?"

"There are thousands of planets out there that can provide for me. The concerns of this planet are not my problem anymore. Besides you, I have no reason to stay here."

"It's not about you,” Miranda said, “It's about everyday people in need."

"The people in need you talk to me about everyday are strangers,” Isaiah said, “They've never had anything to do with me. Somehow I’m supposed to live for them. Am I supposed to have children to provide for their children? Do these people actually exist? Do you know any of them?"

“The Earth is dying and you’re going to leave when it needs you most.”

“Humans don’t really need to rely on earth any longer,” Isaiah said, “If you and I don’t see eye to eye on this subject, I don’t feel I need you either.”

Miranda felt desperate, so she replied with something she believed would work on a man, "I love you."

The words had no affect on Isaiah, "You love the parts of my existence you agree with. Lucky for you, because of over population, I don't have to exist for you or anyone. Find someone who agrees with your thoughts so they can help you convince others not to have children like me."

"You're sacrificing our relationship for dinosaurs," Miranda said with a slight laugh.

"Don't look at it like that. I'm one of the first earthmen to give earth a break from some humans so I can ride a living dinosaur on another planet."

Miranda looked confused. These were thoughts she has never considered before. For the benefit of the needy, thoughts she would never let herself consider.

Isaiah took a deep breath as he knew what he was about to say would be his final words to Miranda. He had to word them in a way that would make sure she would remain distant the rest of her life. His words had to be harsh enough to sever any feelings she might try to keep for him.

He made eye contact with her as he began to say, “You think I want to stay on this planet any longer than I have to? You cry for help from sun up to sun down about an environment you really have no control over and over population which you guess the world has already exceeded. I want off this planet and away from your self-hatred you share with strangers as if you’re some kind of missionary for Mother Earth. Fuck this planet. Fuck this solar system. And fuck you too! I’m leaving. The War on Terror is just as perpetual as the War on Drugs. A state of mental fear from birth till death on this planet. The media and the politicians make money off of everyone’s fear. There are planets out there, where I won’t have to worry about anyone over my shoulder telling me how I should be better for the advancement of others.

“This is the only planet with a Garden of Eden,” Miranda said with certainty, “Where ever it is. The only planet that God gave his only son to die for was earth. The rest of the universe is a bi-product of earth’s creation. We are at the center of the universe.”

“I’m not staying here,” Isaiah said with certainty, “I meet all the requirements NASA has posted on the internet. I start my dried food diet tomorrow. When I get on the peddle bus to Nevada, keep screaming for a better tomorrow without me. I want none of it. I hope you scare everyone else off this planet, so only you will remain. Who will you bitch to about environmental controls and over population then? You won’t even be able to re-populate the planet all by yourself. I will find peace and tranquility without you on another planet. I’m looking forward to waking up in another galaxy where I don’t have to be afraid of dying from fears caused by someone else’s imagination rather than facts. You’ll get the chance to die as an environmental puritan with no followers. This place we are standing on was once referred to as the new world. To me, it’s just a marble in the potato sack of the universe.”

Miranda thought about stepping forward to slap Isaiah, but instead she said, “We’re more than Nietzsche’s superhuman race. We are the super existence of the universe. So to hell with anything not on this planet and if you leave it, to hell with you too.” Miranda was visibly shaking.

Isaiah turned to walk away, then turned back for a brief moment.

Miranda said, “We would have had weak willed children together anyway."

Isaiah said, “Maybe someday you’ll realize the planet you are living on is an obsolete earth.”

Over Pop Tart Me

5PM — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 20:16:48 GMT

5PM Productions brings to you a film spawned from Super Size Me. Follow one man has he eats nothing but Pop Tarts for breakfast, lunch and dinner. America is falling apart and the Kellog company is adding to the downfall...

Part 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsuMoRXcbfo

Part 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPxMeWib2kY

If you just want to watch my toaster burn: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sAIwRuYxUY

What are you going to do about tomorrow???

HISTORIC THIRD WARD: 6th Movie Trailer

5PM — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 22:50:55 GMT

In this trailer, Yellow Guard are sent to downtown Milwaukee to rid it of skateboarders and others involved in individualistic sports.

Read the novel before seeing the movie...

Available at Barnes&Noble, Borders and Harry W. Schwartz

Synopsis:

A novel breaking boundaries between fiction and reality. Wisconsin could be going down a path towards disastrous outcomes. Only a few key adolescents see the insane direction. Citizens convince themselves to be mentally fit for the future and to do all they can do for a better tomorrow. Basement Bonfires occur everywhere in the State. Entire families up and leave for California in the middle of the night to escape forced evolution. Public education begins to replace all forms of private education. Suddenly, a revolution takes place, sealing off the State since citizens have only joined the Wisconsin National Guard. One choice is mandatory for each person to make, whether they are Social Citizens or capitalists. A capitalist ant farm is created with plexiglass around the Third Ward and named a “Living Museum.” Submarines are manufactured once again in Manitowoc, but this time to patrol Lake Michigan. Capitalists begin to wonder why a private library exists in the Living Museum filled with books they never knew existed and operated by a red bearded man. Rumors of a nuclear-armed Wisconsin are spreading as the President of the United States makes it clear she has no interest in dealing with the problems of the Mid-West. Many people begin to wonder if surrounding States will invade Wisconsin or if Wisconsin will be conducting invasions into surrounding States. Interaction between States should not happen in this manner, but you will find out why there is no other choice than war. Time will tell how this novel ends. No matter the outcome, you will think about how you think. Who are any of us to deny progress?

HISTORIC THIRD WARD: 5th Movie Trailer

5PM — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 21:14:39 GMT

While studying at Wauwatosa Library, Anna notices people in yellow jackets walk in and spread out evenly among the books. As the strangers begin to count down from ten, Anna realizes the end of the countdown might be deadly.

Make sure to read HISTORIC THIRD WARD by 5PM before seeing the movie.

HTW will make you think about the way you think...

HISTORIC THIRD WARD: 4th Movie Trailer

5PM — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 17:33:06 GMT

Yellow Guards are sent out to place capitalists within the Living Museum. Anna finds a Private Library while forced to live inside the Living Museum. Milwaukee will never be the same after the revolution...

Read the novel before you see the movie...

Available at: Barnes&Noble, Borders, and Harry W. Schwartz

HISTORIC THIRD WARD: 3rd Movie Trailer

5PM — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 20:59:50 GMT

Meet some of the characters from the underground novel: Historic Third Ward. Meet Anna Jin Lee and her new neighbor from across the street, Wade. The interaction of these two characters is only at the surface of what's inside the story. Make sure to read the novel before seeing the movie.

FIRESTARTER Caf Critique: Cranky Als

5PM — Fri, 05 Oct 2007 22:30:14 GMT

Walking into Cranky Al’s at 7:30 in the evening any day of the week, expect to hear, “Good morning,” from Cranky Al himself.

R. Gibson and I walked into Cranky Al’s to find Sarah, an employee, cleaning a table at which we considered sitting. We asked her if the café had free wireless internet. The review can immediately go south if we don’t hear the answer we are expecting. Sarah said she would check with Al. I wasn’t expecting a real Al to exist. As we searched behind the many church pews available to sit on for outlets to plug in laptops, we heard a voice that could only be described as cranky. Cranky, or civil, if the sound is coming from the mouth of an unarmed New York mafioso.

“Whaddya want?” It would have been cool if he called me tough guy.

“Do you have wireless internet?”

“Oh…no,” Cranky Al said as he disappeared into the back kitchen area. “Maybe you can get dat from the neighbors.”

Was this guy putting on a show or was he really cranky?

During our visit, there was only one point I was somewhat concerned. When we arrived, Cranky was arguing with a little five year old boy holding a ukulele. I thought I was witnessing a Little Rascals version of the movie Desperado. I wasn’t in the mood to witness senseless violence at a north side café, but I was curious how many shots Alfalfa the Kid might get off without reloading a ukulele. The argument, I’m guessing, was about how many gigs Alfalfa was contracted to play. I thought I heard something about child labor laws as Cranky Al got crankier. The budding, young street performer left with his mother behind him as if she were his manager. It was a moment in history I will never forget. It’s not every day you get to witness a star rise.

It’s definitely a “family café”, even if you’re not in La Cosa Nostra. The customers are extremely loyal. They call the owner “Cranky” more than they do “Al.”

There’s a lot of talk in the café about world famous homemade pizza being made in the kitchen. I imagine that pounding out the dough is therapeutic for Cranky. We didn’t get a chance to try it. You know, when you’re a café critic on a budget you don’t get to try it all, but the amount of pizzas ordered while we were there were in the dozens. It’s as if the whole neighborhood came in to pay their respects, and were happy to do so.

R. Gibson and I tried the pastry. Everything looked good enough to try at least once. What we did try was excellent. The Chai Latte was one of the best I’ve ever had in my existence. Since President Clinton built the superhighway bridge to the 21st Century and Starbucks opened a shop with a drive-thru in the dead center of it; Foo-foo drinks have become cool enough for Americans to admit drinking them. I am a proud heterosexual male that’s secure enough to enjoy Chai publicly.

I did not try any of the teas. I should have, but that will have to be a separate critique later.

Cranky Al’s is located on 6901 W. North Avenue in Wauwatosa. Bakery hours are Tuesday thru Sunday, 6:30am – 1:00pm. Pizza hours are Tuesday thru Saturday 4:00pm – 9:00pm. Try it out if you live on the north side and don’t want to make a big carbon foot print by traveling all the way to the east side for unique café experiences. Cranky Al’s carbon footprint has been drastically reduced ever since he was put in the witness protection program. You’ll see R. Gibson and myself back at Cranky Al’s in the future. If not for a wireless internet connection, than to see just how much more cranky we can make Al.

HISTORIC THIRD WARD: 2nd Movie Trailer

5PM — Thu, 04 Oct 2007 18:24:20 GMT

Go about your day. Do not notice anything out of the ordinary. It makes erasing history that much easier.

Historic Third Ward is a story about a direction the State of Wisconsin could go if no one pays attention.

Are you paying attention?

Synopsis:

A story breaking boundaries between fiction and reality. Wisconsin could be going down a path towards disastrous outcomes. Only a few key adolescents see the insane direction. Citizens convince themselves to be mentally fit for the future and to do all they can do for a better tomorrow. Basement Bonfires occur everywhere in the State. Entire families up and leave for California in the middle of the night to escape forced evolution. Public education begins to replace all forms of private education. Suddenly, a revolution takes place, sealing off the State since citizens have only joined the Wisconsin National Guard. One choice is mandatory for each person to make, whether they are Social Citizens or capitalists. A capitalist ant farm is created with plexiglass around the Third Ward and named a “Living Museum.” Submarines are manufactured once again in Manitowoc, but this time to patrol Lake Michigan. Capitalists begin to wonder why a private library exists in the Living Museum filled with books they never knew existed and operated by a red bearded man. Rumors of a nuclear-armed Wisconsin are spreading as the President of the United States makes it clear she has no interest in dealing with the problems of the Mid-West. Many people begin to wonder if surrounding States will invade Wisconsin or if Wisconsin will be conducting invasions into surrounding States. Interaction between States should not happen in this manner, but you will find out why there is no other choice than war. Time will tell how this novel ends. No matter the outcome, you will think about how you think. Who are any of us to deny progress?

HISTORIC THIRD WARD: The Movie

5PM — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 18:36:27 GMT

Have you read the underground novel Historic Third Ward that is finally now for sale at bookstores? Have you heard about the Graphic Novel underway? Maybe you should start here, with the trailer for Historic Third Ward the movie. A story taking place inside Wisconsin like nothing you have ever heard of before. Well, except comparing it to what has happened in history. History repeating itself inside Wisconsin.

Use the link at the very bottom for the trailer or use these other links below:

www.youtube.com/historicthirdward

www.myspace.com/historicthirdward

FIRESTARTER Cafe Critique: Hotch-A-Do

5PM — Wed, 26 Sep 2007 05:50:39 GMT

Supporting reality’s alternative mindset goes hand in hand with supporting the independent café. You don’t have be fashionably punk rock to relate to alternative thinking. The greatest contradictions of terms are the punk rock kids who work at Starbucks. Even more are the punk rock kids who spend their money at Starbucks As if they are completely dependent while only giving off the look of independence. You know, like dozens of Hot Topic mannequins.

Where are you drinking your coffee? Did you ever consider trying tea? Hotch-A-Do Café is a truly independent café designed to meet the needs of the Milwaukee market. A place where your voice will be heard if you want something modified to meet your needs. Make sure to try food like The Milwaukee Rachel, a turkey rueben, one of the signature sandwiches. No matter what time you find yourself hungry, Hotch-A-Do will satisfy your worst hunger pains.

With a diverse staff that has no interest in gender segregation or ignoring anyone who does not fit the café goers “profile,” a comfortable atmosphere is guaranteed for customers who are young, old, black, white, or fake tan. The café is extremely spacious with a high ceiling. The counter tops were built using materials preserved from an old-fashioned bowling lane in Minnesota.

Hotch-A-Do Café is owned by Angie Storm who is always available, if not out mingling with customers already. She makes the café stand out with a variety of music from Sirius satellite radio, free wireless internet, real tea that must be strained, and by offering free refills on soft drinks. There’s a great selection of wine and a vast selection of beer. If the shuffle puck is not enough to keep you busy, there’s a bevy of board games to help you play the night away.

Hotch-A-Do has great hours. It’s open when you want to sneak away during the day. It’s open when you want to take a quick break from one of the nearby clubs and bars. It’s open 9am – 10pm Monday through Wednesday, 9am – Midnight on Thursday through Saturday. Sunday’s hours are 9am – 3pm and brunch is available.

You cannot miss the massive glass windows at 1813 E. Kenilworth Place on Milwaukee’s eastside. Passers-by peek in at the people, as if viewing human fish, swimming through a comfort themed aquarium. Hotch-A-Do is more than a café, it’s a sanctuary away from home, work and those parts of life that seem processed. Stop by today, tomorrow or yesterday.

Lakicane Anthony Making Landfall Soon

5PM — Wed, 19 Sep 2007 19:19:42 GMT

Not only are glaciers melting and reforming elsewhere in the world, like ice cube trays in the homes of many Milwaukeeans, but hurricanes have figured out a way to evolve and move to the Great Lakes region as well. What is the cause of all this? Enviro-Sins.

Since we don't know specific scientists who have signed all this climate altering paperwork, Leonardo DiCaprio has become a spokesman by stating, "Global warming is not only the number one environmental challenge we face today, but one of the most important issues facing all of humanity ... We all have to do our part to raise awareness about global warming and the problems we as a people face in promoting a sustainable environmental future for our planet."

It's not known when the first Great Lakes Hurricane, Lakicane Anthony, will form out in Lake Michigan and bash into the city of Milwaukee for all the pollution caused here. It's obvious that the carbon footprint, a size 12, must be reduced to a size 9 to improve Midwest climate change. This is comparible to the color coordinated terror threat level for the United States. Boot sizes are just much easier for the common man to understand.

Please visit the Calatrava at the Milwaukee Art Muesum while there is still time. Once Lakicane Anthony strikes the city with an avengeful blow, the Calatrava will no longer exist. We should have known since the dawn of time that paint is pollution.

To turn the tide on this imminent event, there is one thing you can do. Recycle? No. Have less children? No. Stop all forms of traveling so that Leonardo DiCaprio can increase his? Maybe. Most importantly is when you wake up in the morning, kneel down next to your bed and recite The Earth's Prayer.

Our Mother

Which art the Earth

Hallowed be thy sphere

When thy end date come

It will not be by my will done

In the United States as it is in the rest of the world

Give us this day our daily organic bread

And forgive us our enviro-sins

As we forgive those who pollute against us

And lead us not into over consumption

But deliver us from our current existence

For thine is the rainforest, the Arctic Circle, and Woodstock

For ever and ever

Thanks

Sex in the Milwaukee

5PM — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:35:50 GMT

Two female friends pawned off their sexy redheaded drunken friend to me at Summerfest. She appeared tipsy, not drunk. They ran off to listen to a band play. I followed along with this young woman. Let's call her Linda. She had only been in Wisconsin a few months and would be going back to California at the end of July. She reached for my hand and squeezed tightly as if we had known each other more than five minutes, pulling me to catch up with my friends.

In the crowd over looking whatever band was playing, she danced for me as if she were my very own stripper. Long red hair, thin body, smooth skin, and a face without a blemish. She was twenty-one years old and excited to be alive.

She continually preformed the move which I have experienced with dozens of women on the dance floor. It involves letting her knees go out and dropping her ass down until it almost touches the dance floor, then councing back up. As if it is some kind of mating ritual. Like that will be a useful move in the bedroom later. Women who preform it, love being watched by anyone (I suppose with bad knees). She also swayed like we were on a ship. I had to hold onto her everytime she popped back up from my shoelaces. This repetative action finally took a toll and she needed to sit down. You know, fresh air, because there's not much of that at Summerfest.

She told me about the sorority she was in at college and how she spent her birthday at a stripclub. That because she has large breasts (which I don't think she actually had), she was into all the strippers who had large breasts. Why was I privy to this information? None of what she said was sincere. She wanted to say this because she was looking for somekind of acceptance from me. Just like the women who belch at bars in order to get high fives from the men they want to attract. I don't go to strip joints on my own cause you can't take the women home with you. Why the hell would I be impressed that this girl went? She went so she could say she did, not because she wanted too.

She wanted me to kiss her very badly. I visualized the byle coming up her throat. I told myself, it's not going to happen to me, she's not going to throw up.

She laid back into a pile of woodchips. I pulled her up, just to watch her fall over onto the pavement. The miniature ambulance happened to be passing at the exact moment when she passed out. Spotlight went on and the paramedics moved in. I said she was fine and that I would take care of her. The microambulance took off.

Some drunk moron walked by and asked me if I was fine with taking care of her, 'cause he would if I wouldn't. I wanted to give him a violent answer, but instead I told him to go away.

Another person passed by and asked me, "Why did you let her get like this?" Was this really happening to me? I didn't see her drink anything to cause this. I had no idea what was inside her body. For all I knew, she was possessed by the holy spirit.

I tried to get her to sit up so she at least didn't give the appearance she was such a mess. That's when she became coherent for a moment, grabbed her purse, pulled two dollars out and threw them at me. "Just go," she yelled at me as people passed by, "Leave me here." I laughed out loud at the two dollars. I opened her purse and put the money back in it. I noticed she could have thrown more at me, but I was only worth two dollars. I propped her back up to make her look semi-presentable with wood chips hanging like ornaments in her hair.

My two friends walked over after the band finished the last song. They had no idea Linda was that drunk out of her mind. They said she ony had two drinks before going out. We got Linda up on her feet and maybe walked five paces until she dropped back to the ground. That's when it happened. Her stomach was convulsing like she was about to birth an Alien or spew forth toxic venom. I held her soft red hair as she laid on her side and vomitted. It was like the exorcist. She was getting rid of demons and dinner. The vomit ran down near one of her knee caps, I pulled her leg away. She was still sexy, but not in the best pose for Playboy.

Once we finally got her walking out of the Summerfest grounds, she kept having to spit. We had to make sure she wasn't going to vomit. She would say to me, "Don't look at a lady spit," as she would turn away. What? I just watched something that is in my mind #2 to watching someone die.

I drove everyone to my friend's home. Linda gave me a hug as she continued to wipe her mouth out of habit. We would never see each other again, but we would never forget each other. She would be going back to her sorority. She still had time to meet a guy to completely take advantage of her, so she could sue him and win. She will never be seen as the one at fault. She can't be held responsible for her actions.

I had the option to leave her to the wolves for two dollars. There's nothing two dollars will buy you at Summerfest anymore. I saved her life for free instead.

From Animal Farm to Historic Third Ward

5PM — Fri, 14 Sep 2007 18:36:45 GMT

At the Potsdam conference of 1944, President Truman faced off with Stalin. At the UW Milwaukee in2007, 5PM faced off with Ambassador Herrera of Venezuela. Truman had made mention of a book entitled Animal Farm by a man named George Orwell. 5PM handed a copy of Historic Third Ward to Ambassador Herrera.

On the 12th of September 2007, 5PM made history repeat itself whether you wanted it to or not. A mythical monster known as socialism has returned again from the deep at some supposed will of the people. Socialism is too harsh of a word, so it's been shaped into Social Democracy. I will not stand by and watch it spread amongst more innocent people who think the appearence of a good thing is a good thing.

Some of the great comments of Ambassador Herrera were choppy feel good statements like, "Real participation of the people...No more traditional model...Communal Branch...Community Power...Community Government...Avoid Bureaucratism...Social Sector (besides Private, Public)...Grassroots Democracy...Then rebuild the State...U.S. military force is not even good enough for the U.S....If you're inside the box, you're not changing anything...Opening alot of hope for people."

People clapped for him as if they had never clapped for anyone before in their life. Most of them looked as if they had never had a shower either. I had to remind myself that these are not the same people like the ones forced to be used in Soviet or Chinese propaganda parades. These people were clapping without feeling the threat of being removed from society. As the evening went on, it occurred to me that most everyone in the room saw themselves as leaders of Wisconsin's cultural revolution if one were to be unleashed.

R. Gibson attended the event with me and asked the Ambassador of Venezuela, "How much of your social democracy is a result of immigration of European refugees after World War II?" Since the Nazis started out as Socialists, R. Gibson took it upon himself to call the Ambassador of Venezuela a Nazi in friendly terms. The Ambassador talked about European influences in South America, but he did not address any effects from the "master race" vacationing indefinitely oustide the Fatherland. At no time did he make the statement, "Venezuela, Venezuela, Uber Alles." Though in time, don't be surprised if he does.

Maybe I am wrong in the way I've been thinking and writing all these years. Ambassador Herrera made everything as clear as possible for everyone who attended. Answering questions without any specifics made it easier for common people to understand just what he meant. Might I say, not enough common people attended. Specifics can come later. Revolution comes now.

(If you are curious about the mindset of people like Ambassador Herrera, I invite you to take a look at the Book section of OnMilwaukee.com's Message Board. There is a thread about the novel "Historic Third Ward." You'll find our very own neighbors happen to be our very own Thought Police.)

Antonio Rocha's Presentation

5PM — Sun, 02 Sep 2007 07:00:23 GMT

Woodland Pattern Book Center presented a thought provoking young artist named Antonio Veiga Rocha on the 28th of August. He's pushing boundries on several art froms at once while trying to find what he calls "middle space."

I met Antonio at the Green Gallery while I was given a tour by curator John Riepenhoff on the 27th of August. Antonio is taking part in the Cultural Crisis Residency Program for Individual Artists by the Institute of Quotidian Arts and Letters at Milwaukee. He will be living in Milwaukee for two months and looking forward to visiting the American Black Holocaust Museum.

I arrived at the Woodland Pattern minutes before Antonio's presentation began. I brought a college friend, Robert. We had run a college newspaper at UW-Washington County entitled The FIRESTARTER. Antonio spoke to me before he began his talk. He said he was glad we could attend and told me he was at the Unity chapter of my novel, Historic Third Ward.

He was born in Portugal, lived in London and the United States. His skin color is black and his talk was about his dealings with his blackness. How some black skinned people in Portugal consider themselves black while others want to be known as simply European. He felt a lot of confusion with each new group of people he spent time with. He wasn't sure where to belong or how to feel about himself. Arriving in the States, he found himself amazed by African Americans. After he clued everyone in about his background, he began talking about his art. All black paintings. Different shades of black (if that is possible). He also had posters of what looked like real magazines with him on the cover. Antonio recited some of his spoken word that was more and more intense as he continued reading. Other ideas he spoke about were what he called Tridentity, about how he feels being from three different places at once. Hypervisibility was another issue he touched on. Check out his website to get more information on these ideas that are only touched on here.

After his hour and forty five minute talk to a white crowd (one African American woman showed up after 50 minutes into the presentation), he asked for questions. Robert immediately raised his hand and asked, "What do you think about the fact that your audience for the first 50 minutes of your presentation was all white. What kind of audience would you like to have?" Please remember where the Woodland Pattern is located, 720 East Locust Street, plenty of African Americans could have attended. Antonio explained that he understands the art community is predominantly white. He talked about his concern over not enough African American involvement as the people, around Robert and I, nodded their heads to show Antonio that they understand him and we are probably two white supremisists. They had no idea Antonio and I had already met before.

I asked the next question about how some of his art might cause a stir as far as copyright laws. This is when the white crowd attacked. They yelled at me that what he is doing is "freedom of speech" and "1st Amendment." They thought I was telling him he had no right to do what he was doing. I explained that Robert and I had the same issues with the FIRESTARTER which was the same as his artwork. Robert and I had been constantly harrassed by other people at CowPie (UWWC). I continued to receive many dirty looks from the other people around us. Robert got one more question in as people turned completely towards him and either laughed at us or gave us looks to shut the f**k up. Robert asked what Antonio meant by "taint" and at what age does a person become tainted by life? Antonio began to answer, but no one in the audience was paying attention to him anymore.

The fact is, all the white people at this event wanted to be seen as being blacker than Antonio and more understanding of his cause than even him. Robert was convinced these white audience members were there to get credit for a class, not to really give a sh*t. When the talk was over, it was only Robert and I who went up and shook Antonio's hand. He told me he's got a lot to talk to me about when he finishes reading my novel. I asked if he's taking notes while reading. He said he wasn't, so I asked him to please do. He's really excited to discuss a lot of things with me next week. I am excited to ask him all the controversial questions I didn't get to.

Antonio wasn't sure what to expect when he got to Milwaukee. Now that he has met Robert and I, life will never be the same. Please take a look at Antonio's website for more information. He's here for two months, so don't hesitate to contact him.

I would like to post the question and answer session Antonio and I will be having if anyone is interested in reading it. Is anyone interested?

Ordering Expectations

5PM — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 23:24:37 GMT

Rachel looked like she wanted to vomit all over me at Bar Louie. Her eyes read that she would make out with me either way. I was intrigued.

A weekend or so ago, I went out for an evening with my cousin, Mike. We hit the bars on Water Street. After stopping at a few bars we ended up at Bar Louie. That was when I smiled at a drunken bride-to-be and her drunken friends. One of those friends turned out to be Rachel. She was a gorgeous fake blonde with black highlights or maybe it was black roots with blonde highlights.

Our converstaion turned into her need to point out that a author wouldn't be wearing Teva's and North Face knock off shorts. She didn't like the polyester shirt either. I was enjoying every minute of this moment together. She was wearing a blue shirt that wanted to be a dress. It fit well around her breasts, but looked like something a six month pregnant woman should be wearing. I figured no one else would level with her, so I did. I asked her if she was bringing maternity wear back in style. She looked at me as if no one had ever been mean to her before and really meant it. I just wanted to see her expression. To my surprise, she gave me her phone number. Either she was too drunk to realize it or she really liked me. Then the truth began to surface. She told me about a boyfriend who would be good marriage material someday, but nothing to be excited over. I felt sorry for him, because she looked like she wanted to vomit on me and make out at the same time.

As we conversed, she would yell at times. Maybe it was a need for more attention. A desperate cry, so I told her to stop yelling. She told me she was too high maintenance for me. That her parents were too well known for me. The part about her parents was said as if it were a threat. She leaned back and forth like we were on a ship. Then she told me I should call her. I wondered how sober she would be if I actually did.

All I saw in her pretty eyes was a life time of having to hold her hair and watch her puke out on Water Street for every stranger to watch. That she would look 50 by the time she reached 30. I don't expect to ever see her again. I don't expect her to read my book. I can atleast hold on to her memory and share it with you. In case you know her.

The First Blog

5PM — Fri, 31 Aug 2007 04:11:11 GMT

When I hit post, where does this disappear to? Who reads it? I mean after reading everything else that's on the OnMilwaukee.com website. Who is going to end up here reading my words?

I read the blog terms and conditions. I'm pretty much left with nothing to talk about except for creating all these underlying messages. As if being straight forward is no longer friendly.

I wrote a novel entitled Historic Third Ward and most people think it's a history book on the Third Ward. Others tell me they read Harry Potter only. My favorite are the people who laugh at me and tell they don't read novels at all. Like I am the fool for writing one. I have to admit, these situations I have put myself in have been eye opening and I've written dozens of examples down. I will write a book about how I wrote HTW.

If you actually read this, let me know. I might keep it up. I promise to get funnier as time goes on. You know, I'll forget what the terms and conditions said.