The Wayfarer.

Atelier Bow-Wow











and ideas.

A place for friends to make a better world.

And make money however they can.


11/8/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments


I’m coming home soon. Are you?

10/28/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

GOOD idea?

“There aren’t too many places in the world where you can’t buy a Coke, and that includes some of the remotest parts of developing countries. Coincidentally, that’s often where aid organizations have the hardest time delivering medicine and other supplies. That’s why ColaLife is lobbying the international beverage behemoth to open up its distribution channels for some constructive piggybacking. The nonprofit is working on a wedge-shaped package that can deliver goods in the space between the bottlenecks in a full crate of Coca-Cola, and in partnership with another NGO, it has already performed a successful test of the idea in Tanzania. In its quest for global beverage dominance, Coca-Cola may have inadvertently built the best tool for international aid. You can’t beat that.”

- GOOD Magazine, The GOOD 100

Thanks GOOD.

I like you.

What is a good ‘idea’?

Is a good idea ‘dramatizing the benefit’?

Is a good idea ‘telling a story’?

Is a good idea using the word ‘awesome’ in a conversational tone?

Is a good idea something a panel of judges can’t ‘love’ or ‘hate’?

I suppose so.

10/20/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

Making the world more funner.

Oh how better life would be,

If all ideas made us laugh,

or want to be happy,

or be a better parent,

or spend less money,

or relax, ax, ax, ax,

or climb a tree,

or read a book,

or talk in front of a roaring fire,

or dance with friends to a record player,

or eat fresh food,

or have friends for dinner,

or ride bicycles to the sea,

or just enjoy being with ‘me’.

Oh how great life would be,

if we got rid of the ad agency,

and took everyone’s money,

to make piano keys out of everything.

Maybe soon.

10/12/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

Boom Ba Ba Ba.

<<<< Video dump >>>>

10/11/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

Strangers’ Thoughts.

I wish I had a collection of strangers’ thoughts. Particularly the thoughts that relate to me. What do these strangers think when I buy my coffee? Do they make comments about my hairstyle? Do they think I walk funny? Do I look better from behind? Am I cute? Do I smell? Do I ever look ‘homeless’?

I wish they were scrawled in each individual’s handwriting,

on scrap pieces of paper,

and stuffed inside a hat.

I wish I had an aggregator to sort through these thoughts. One that censored the extreme opinions and ordered the others in an item by item catalogue. An aggregator that would pick the most salient thought of the day and posted it on a blog. The blog would be private and only I would have the password. I could view it on my iPhone.

Then I could make changes accordingly and live a better life. One where I never worry about what others think.

Because I already know.

10/9/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

The book already written.

“Schopenhauer had said that – that life was to be perceived not as a book you would write but as a book already written, something to be gotten through, so as to detach oneself from suffering, which was an outside thing, really; not actually in the text. Everything was to be accepted. The world was here. Everything was here. Mark liked Spiderman more. As it existed in what was here, in the world, that ‘Mark liked Spiderman more,’ Andrew knew, it similarly existed that ‘Andrew’.”

- Tao Lin, Eeeee Eee Eeee

10/6/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

A letter to everyone always.

Tom stood in a subway car. He was looking out the window at nothing while clutching onto a rail. There was a man sitting beside him looking distant. Tom imagined the man pulling a carving knife from his jacket pocket. Then he imagined that knife stabbing Tom twice, once in the heart. Then Tom imagined himself saying goodbye to everyone he ever knew. He imagined himself thinking that he should have written a note to all those people in case he was ever stabbed on a train. Then he rewound his thoughts. He began writing the letter in his head.

“This is a letter to everyone always.

I want you all to know that dying was an incredible experience. I was completely ready for it. It doesn’t hurt a bit and I feel great. If you’re fond of sleep then you’re gonna love this even more. My last moments were incredible and I said goodbye to you all. It was glorious. Just remember: If I can do it, you can too.

P.S. Heaven doesn’t exist, but wherever I am it’s really fun. They have jumping castles.”

He decided the sentiment was right but the words were not. He wanted everyone to know what will happen always would. He imagined everyone at his funeral enjoying themselves except for the people who didn’t get it. He imagined trees that had lived before anyone he might have known, and would live for longer than they ever could. He imagined the world decaying beyond repair. He imagined the universe expanding. He imagined lots of things. Then the train stopped and he left the subway car. Then he forgot to imagine. And lost it all forever.

10/5/09 -- New York > Writing -- 0 Comments

The Unfinished Game.

My favourite saying in the world is, “my best years are ahead of me.” I’m 23. Strong. Independent. Opposite of ‘languishing’. Floating about – as all twenty-somethings do. Wiling away my time in the ‘wings’ of ‘this great play’. The play is titled ‘Life’. Credited to ‘God’. Some say he didn’t actually write it. They say he had a ‘ghostwriter’. Ha. I don’t believe in ghosts. Apparently God and J.D. Salinger are friends. They both live in exile. No one knows what either looks like. Although God did have a famous son once. He was an author too. Died tragically of course, as all good writers do. David Foster Wallace was a friend of his. As was Kurt Vonnegut. So it goes.

I just read this story on the local newspaper resource, The Age Dot Com, about ‘our best years being ahead of us’.

“A study of US super-centenarians aged 110-119 found that about 40 per cent needed little assistance or were independent, ‘suggesting that super-centenarians are not more disabled than are people aged 92 years’.”

“They say that if current trends continue, more than half the babies born since 2000 in wealthy nations such as Australia will celebrate their 100th birthdays.”

Compare me as an infant to, say, a 58 year old. Starting my life, fresh out of the proverbial womb, with no teeth and difficulties ‘moving my bowels’. (Sorry dad. I know 58 year olds rarely have either of those things. It was a ‘metaphor’ to help the story ‘move forward’.) Now jump 23 years ahead and I’m 81. That’s a good chunk of life right there. That’s my entire life span so far. What will I want to achieve in those years? Will I print off a quote on my hologram computer to hang above my bed reading, “Just enjoy life”?

Maybe most of it will be spent sleeping. The dream world will be the only place left to explore. What a great life this is. Are you having fun? Isn’t this absurd!?

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! …

10/2/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

And their children’s children’s children…

Just want to fall in love.

09/30/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments

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