Blogging from the Droid...

Werd.

The Parade of Angels

The Parade of Angels appears to be the world's first legitimate flash parade. It happened all on it's own down in the historical Cherokee district, Cherokee St. St. Louis on March 18th, 2011 at around 6:45pm. For those who were there, it was a magical procession, a one of a kind idea and a once in a lifetime experience. Super special thanks to Artica and ALL the Articans who made this happen. If you'd like to learn more about what Artica is all about, please visit them on Facebook at:

http://www.facebook.com/articafest





The Parade of Angels was filmed and edited by Jamie Jessop.
Mastered at Camp Jessop, South Side! STL

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Camp-Jessop/105523316196798

The Shaping of a House.

The beautiful decor, arranged by the lovely Lana Camp. Artist/Diva.

...Not quite sure that I would want to eat or follow a chef who ended up with tongue cancer... ...just sayin'...

...Including references to job loss growing almost 4 times in the last few years in suicide notes written by those who've taken their own life? Must be a sign.

Stop trying to convince me that the economy is getting BETTER simply because apps for unemployment are down from last month. Everyone is on it already, duh!

And if you let the media tell YOU what to think about YOUR world, then you will believe the story they want you to know. Educate yourselves to the reality!

If it's all in the gov't and richest hands, it does not move. The only way to then fix that is to print MORE money, which has no value... It's based on air...

Job creation equals money in the common populations hands. That is the only way to spur the economy. Masses of people must spend.

For economic recovery to happen in America, we need job creation. Only. Job. Creation. Period. Without job creation, your politicians are telling stories.

The Best Radio Show in STL... Beep Beep Boop Boop, KDHX.

JDC

Jessop Design Co.

Winter Always Turns to Spring. An Art Showing.

Jessop Design Co.

Recent events at Camp Jessop. (You will want to attend at some point in your life.)

FantasiK black-light extravaganza!

JDC Style.

New product line emerging soon.

Details to be released to exclusive parties via coordinated email. Watch for yours soon.

Interesting just to look around.

I just though it was interesting to surface, look around for a bit, take an assessment of the situation, and adsorb for a bit. Refreshing for a change. I'll tell you about it a bit more perhaps, in the days to come.

Winter Always Turns to Spring. An Art Showing.

Stillfunky TV

Mardi Gras 2010 photos are up!

Mardi Gras 2010!

Jamie Jessop on Flickr

...it's just a link to my Flickr account, enjoy! :)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jessopdesignco/

Final Veil

Final Veil, originally uploaded by jamjessop.

Naughti Gras 3 was a hit. Lana had a great piece in a great show, and hopefully had a wonderful birthday on top of it all. Very busy weekend with the show, birthday, photo sessions, video sessions, family sessions... oh my!

Bank of America... my ex-bank

This says it all:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35237484/ns/business-us_business?GT1=43001

2010

Here's to 2010. I'll be busy building the inside of a house. MY HOUSE!! :)

New Pictures from HOME 2009/10 NYE

Oompa Loompas concerning Tiger Woods

Oompa Loompas concerning Tiger Woods, originally uploaded by jamjessop.

Tiger Woods mistress, and mister!!?!? His sex scandal just gets worse and worse. This was my interview of the couple who alleged to have the affair with Tiger as well... it happened at HOME Nightclub last Saturday. ~Jamie D. Jessop

StLBurner Logoish v1.1

StLBurner Logoish v1.1, originally uploaded by jamjessop.

Another Burner Post!

David Guetta and I

David Guetta and I, originally uploaded by jamjessop.

Alyssa Burnam

Alyssa Burnam, originally uploaded by jamjessop.

This is one photo out of the shoot w/ up and coming model Alyssa Burnam. Seems to be a favorite on Flickr.

This was a good and productive week at HOME Nightclub. Nelly celebrated his birthday with us by having a pajama party. All in attendance were in their nighties. Good times, and fun video to shoot and edit!

HOME Nightclub Commercial (No.1)

This is one of my first commercials for HOME Nightclub. The commercial features Twista, international DJ Tiesto, Shock G (better known as Humpty from Digital Underground) and DJ Costik. Being hired at HOME Nightclub as videographer has proven to be a fun and rewarding job doing things that I LOVE to do... it is great!

Contemplation

Contemplation, originally uploaded by jamjessop.

Sometimes, I like to find myself a nice tree, climb up in it, and think about my life.

Hi

Day of Mist : Day of Tarnish (SP)

...and supposing I took Him
at His Word...
it'll be o.k.?
because how could you,
be upset
about having lost
something... so,
utterly worthless?
Maybe it's just flesh
to Him...
and He doesn't have to feel.
However, it is what it was -
-MINE-
...always a hole, and
you can't feel a hole,
empty.
right?
Could You please explain
then, where the pain
comes from? -because,
I asked this question in
my second prayer...
and all that returned
from that void was
SILENCE.
...drowning out a
dim crushing sound of
destitution.
not that it'd matter to you,
...anyway...





THE END

Written 01072007 from Death Row.

Day of Mist : Day of Tarnish (SP)

as above, so below.
I wonder how it is
that you handle
the one last gem
you kept, covetous
refused to return...
Is it well? I can't know?
It is no longer part of me
you know, a part of me
not that it'd matter to you,
not that you would feel
a thing for my heart.
He told me I wouldn't
even recognize the
remnant ---
there is nothing to salvage
in there,
just an echo...
He said that you chew
that dust each and every day.
It is uninhabited.
not that it'd matter to you,
...anyway,
it's been said that -
I forgive you
what you did to me,
but that you
did it to yourself...
How could I forgive that?
*embarrassed*
I'll hold these last
few charred remnants
to myself
my treasure,
my worthless treasure...
and not show anyone
what you did to them
*thankful*
that one part you stole
I hear,
is no longer recognizable.
so, no one will ever know
what it used to be:
if you were to ever spit it out
on to the ground...
not that it'd matter to you
...anyways,

Cover

A Sign...

Day of Mist : Day of Tarnish (SP)

when I tried to cry out
against the despoliation
of my trinkets
you "had no time for..."
consideration...
yet returned all
but one, hungry,
I hold,
these jewels in.
my palm, sweetly burning,
inspecting the fragments:
crushed and dulled
as they were,
for hope. Longing...
of slow hands with
your latent fingerprints, and
your teeth marks
marring the face of each
one -disfigured
fractured
torn to the core.
Not that it'd matter to you,
anyways,

America:
No: 37 in health care
No: 1 in war machines.
Hmm.

Day of Mist : Day of Tarnish (SP)

...

I tried to get them back...
to have them -
to give again -
to show off -
on holiday?
or at least when I
thought that someone might be looking.
It was my all,
not that it'd matter to you,
...anyways
I prayed to salvage them
- a salvation
having DRUG them back
from the depths
of your gorgeous
visceral desolation...
- anyways...
my petition was returned,
not that it's matter to you,
that:
these shards are,
-consequently trivial.
Not to me, of course,
but to the Prodigy
...and perhaps yourself,
still,
the Appraisal returned more
valueless than the prayer:
utterly insignificant.
Was I to be provoked
because of your charge?
see,
not that it'd matter to you,
anyways,

Day of Mist : Day of Tarnish (SP)

God Said, "

God told me a secret today
but what it was wouldn't matter
...not to you anyways
I've never seen a wild thing
sorry for itself either,
so how could I expect that
you'd feel sorrow for me?
...doubt that it would matter
...not to you anyways.
All these pieces fit together
somehow,
anyways,
if your intentions were to
break me:
you couldn't. I'm,
Already shattered.
not that it'd matter to you,
...anyways,
even so, I noticed
one mourning: you,
out in my garden
choosing and selecting
the few shiny pieces
-the ones that drew you in-
setting your teeth against them
with full intention
of grinding to dust:
the few slivers
I had managed to keep
hidden-
From the Heat Seeking Eyes
of Corruption.

...T.B.C.

...the project of the day...

So. Yesterday was the annual Pointfest celebration... it was a good time. Never mind the corporate aire, people were having a good time none-the-less. It seems there is a blanketing emotion in people right now to just relax a bit and it is nice to feel. Stained headlined the show and with a great cover of "This Love" by Pantera, stole the show with an inspiring follow up of "Eruption" by Eddie Van Halen. ...and I don't even really like Van Halen, personally, but the atmosphere was right, it was a rock show for real. Not to mention the Patrolling Dragonfly's continuous attempts to count the entire population of the hill. I believe that he finally got tired and found a spot to enjoy the show on top the canopy. Electric fire-spinners and authentic good-timers were in attendance. Well done.

...a banner for one...

Page 2.78

So much effort, is not easily wasted. As this is the preamble to greater things, I suppose not to much detail is required at this time. Blindsiding. Reminds me of Trainspotting as a word, but blindsiding, like getting hit by a train. Some things can do that to a person. But blindsiding events happen numerous times a day, at least. Opportunities. Blindsiding Opportunities. So much can happen in such a short time and you end up where you were, not knowing anything more than you did when you were there. Or worse, finding out that what you thought when you were where you were was wrong, now... and you have not even had a chance to build the right thoughts until now. You have a lot of work to do. Do not even sit there and say that you are completely sure that everything is just alright in the version of your life, which is not just some set of building blocks, as some might have it. What will we do in 2012? A lot of these things have been happening lately, and having developed the point of view of looking in, things seems harder to see now in the forest. Like I said before, details are not important at this point, but the progression of things is and it must be time to get on with it. I do not see any point in living the day out like it is anything other than it is. Sometimes the instinct is there, in others it seems to have been tamed, thus not inspired. Instinct drives me now, in measured balance. So the goal is to document why what is happening, is happening. I have voices in mind, types of voices to be seen and heard mind you, for what they are saying, and why they are saying it. I can not help the casualties that might happen on the way, as I am not in control of this. The road will lead where it will, I just want to be there in the end. The problem is that considering all of the above mentioned problems, every new idea seems to be a little better than the last, and you must start at one of them, which complicates things to outstanding multiples of proportions. Do not try to pick the right one yourself...
Supposing there was a starting point right about here, which is what this is about anyway, gathering steam and momentum... my subject is there waiting, needing to have the formal part of the interview out of the way. This will be my journey, to find out just exactly what? Nothing can be done, you just have to capture it as it happens...

...page 3, coming soon...

I should sing, 'Work Sucks' to the tune of the epic, 'Love Hurts'. It would be more applicable.

Sitting in the car, on break from work, offers minute solace.

The Potter’s Hill

I was driving down an old dusty road one late summer day last year. There were a couple of friends along for the ride because hey, why not, there’s nothing better to do. It was one of those real lazy summer days were it is kind of hazy out in the distance, but it was not all that hot. I remember watching the billowing dust roar out from under the car and wondering if people could track our progress across the county by our huge elongated smoke signal.
It was time for a bathroom break, which is very convenient out on old back roads because there just happens to be a “bathroom” anywhere you need to stop and call it a bathroom. As the four of us got out of the car, our smoke signal blazed past us covering everything in a light coat of soft country dirt. I decided to walk on up the road a little because it is beautiful country out here. My friends and I were in northern Iron County, Missouri, not too far from a little town called Viburnum. This area has to be the oldest part of the state from all I can tell from all the old mining roads, one-hundred and fifty years old houses and what-not. I noticed the undisturbed oak trees growing silently, seemingly forever, on the side of this huge hill that is wearing our little dirt road for a necklace. Out of nowhere there appeared a huge stone arch on the left of the roadway that must be at least a story and a half tall with a Latin inscription over the crest. To this day I am clueless as to what it meant but it sure was cool to see. Right next to the stone arch was an old pump house with an old rusted tin roof that was precariously hanging on to its job of protecting the inside of the pump house. There must have been an artesian inside because you could still smell the live spring water trickling out. Ivy had covered everything. The plants were growing up the sides of the stone arch clinging to it and reaching for the low branches of the oak trees at the same time. The entire surface of the ground was covered in ivy as well. I stepped under the stone arch and almost tripped over a ledge covered by the ivy which upon further inspection turned out to be a huge rectangular stone slab. This was the first of hundreds of steps leading up the hill, all covered in a green carpet of ivy.
Walking up the stairway in the woods, I had this strange notion of peace. The silence of the woods here was very quiet. Oak trees invented a sort of canopy over the area and the Ivy covering the ground snuffed out any other plants that might try to make a home there. The scene made me think of an outdoor room carpeted with Ivy and roofed by oak. I soon came upon a much smaller arched threshold. On each end of the archway there is a wall, about three feet high made of indigenous stone, curving gracefully away and up the hill. There were dozens upon dozens of gravestones in this enclosure. It never really occurred to me until this point that this might be a graveyard. I always liked to visit old graveyards and look at the dates on the stones thinking of what the surrounding area must have looked like to the people living in it in their day. Usually, I realize that it probably looks just about the same now as it did then, which I usually find comforting for some reason. Bending down to inspect the first gravestone, I see that it is the grave of a child. She was around three of four years old when she died in 1847. These old graveyards usually have an unusual (to us) number of children because medical advancements that we are so used to today did not exist back then. I move to the next stone. Another child. The next, another. What I find is a graveyard of children, from newborns to early teenagers. There was not one adult amongst them. Moving further up the hill, towards the very top border of the wall, as it makes its way back around to meet again, I find that the wall is not completed. There is about a three-foot gap in the wall and it just gently curves to the ground. Going through this gap in the wall is a very well-worn path. The path looks to me as if people must walk on it every day. This interests me because coming in from the front of graveyard, you would think no one had been to this place in a hundred years. I proceed up the path wondering where it must lead, because if it is used so much something must be nearby. But there is nothing. I reach the summit of this hill after a winding trek along this path, and there is nothing. The path just ends in a little clearing about five feet wide at the very crest of the hill and there is nothing. I still don’t know why, but from the top I can see forever in any direction.

The Last Rose of Summer

...via mobile as well!

Page 1

It's almost as if you'd like to keep a low profile. Sometimes it doesn't let you. This moment right now is just about all there is. Everything else is either gone or not here yet. A person should not be anywhere else than where they are, anything else would be uncivilized. So, I do not want to start my using a bunch of “I's” but, it is hard to do so when you are the biggest object in your path. I want to write. I want to see things and have the things I see be meaningful enough to document. There is a very interesting world out there and it is sitting there just waiting to be appreciated. I see people out there like Leah Williams and am amazed. It must take a huge effort and complete dedication just about every waking minute of the day. It feels as though I am treading in unwelcoming waters, or into the headquarters of a secret establishment. I've read quite a few of “the classics” and have read several philosophers with earnest intent. I have not been to any formal education classes on the subject, though it seems as though I've always had an active mind. There seems to be a place that needs a starting point though. Since I can't be in any other place but here right now, I do not see much point in being anywhere else, since I couldn't be there even if I wanted to, which is just the same for anyone else in this entire world. That is how my logic must work. Sorry, if you've known me for any length of time you would know that I can even be a bit hyper-active from time to time. Now I want to write, and it would be nice to do it, seriously. So I begin here on this chair, in this mind at this time, letting now intersect the moment.
I feel that it's the past that holds me back. Maybe this is the natural progression of things as I know them. People have this perception of the past and of themselves. Perceptions seem to be the truest when they are the most popular, thus they are not always true. It is a popularity game. The most people then who could then hold a wrong perception should be one person. But what do we do when many people's ideas are wrong when they mistakenly follow someone else's perception of things, blindly assuming the perception to be true and proven. This is why perception is not called the truth. Maybe that was the reason for the invention of money, so people could hide (buy their way) behind their perceptions. The winners get to lead the nation, and their perceptions. That is how money is the root of all evil, everyone is trying to get money. Not a single person, it seems, cares about anything else. It is the means to a end. The end of everything as we know it.