15/09/2023
Tested a de-aging app and I have to say, “it’s pretty accurate,” but I prefer looking older, wiser and more confident in my risky behavior.
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15/09/2023
Tested a de-aging app and I have to say, “it’s pretty accurate,” but I prefer looking more confident in my risky behavior.
18/07/2023
AI is getting better week by week, and maybe I’m getting better at it too because, despite my humbling first attempts, within an hour, I did these face swaps with my girlfriend, Melanie... and she approved. Schwew 😅
12/07/2023
Character description: authentically beat down, mid-century pugilist with a head full of bad messages. He’ll prove you wrong in the end, but it ain’t gonna be pretty, easy, or smooth.
04/07/2023
Happy 4th of July!!
30/06/2023
Working on a Native American Folklore meets Jack Ryan series with a Native client who’s an amazing martial artist because she’s only one degree of separation from Bruce Lee. And this image is an option of her on the reservation as a girl.
26/06/2023
Getting big into AI creating film stills for pitch decks, so you’ll probably see those show up , but have to share some of my own brain childs here, like ZZ Top having high tea.
29/06/2022
I thought I was taking the boys to Italy as a decadent college tour to show them—see, you could study art in Paris or design in Milan and blow away the competition in New York for only $100 a quarter, but it turns out—I went there to grieve.
In Milan, Eliot and I were waiting in Gucci while they searched for a pair of Adidas/Gucci sneakers. Eliot tapped away on his phone while I looked at scarves. Grey on dark grey, I thought, “those are dad’s colors,” classic tan and brown, “…and that’s mom.” I acknowledged it, no big deal, and emotionlessly turned to Eliot, “Wanna head over to Fendi?”
Then we went up to Lake Como and stayed in a small town which felt like an Italian Atwood Lake (Ohio ref.). Every lush lawn, little stream, and humble campground reminded me of growing up in Ohio, back when everyone was alive, flush with two sets of grandparents. It was either the sound of dirt bikes or the smell of cut grass that sent me over the edge, but once the tears started, there was no going back—I cried all night.
I finally stopped fighting it and accepted that I am Catholic by culture. And I didn’t realize how Catholic I was until dad’s funeral. My sister, Rachel, was ok having the service at the funeral home, but I instinctively insisted on having it at the church. Out of nowhere, for this agnostic rocker, having dad’s funeral at the church was super-important to me.
Thus, in that Ohio-like lake-side Italian getaway, I finally had time to reflect, appreciate, and breathe through the grief I’d held at bay since November. Every hour on the hour, the church bell rang, and I was awash with love for my dad, mom, and the whole family.
I never thought I’d spend the nights of my decadent vacation crying in my cocktails. But I’m happy that I did because it showed me how much love I’ve acquired, retained, and have to share.
Or maybe it’s because I’m fancy that I grieve in fancy places. After all, nine months after mom died, I balled my eyes out in the Princeton art gallery, repeating, “I want a do-over.“ Any way you slice it, I’ve learned that I’m not good at relaxing. For me, it’s all high-end retail, tactical speed boats, and emotional work.
26/06/2022
I’m a full-grown man, and both my parents are dead, so I can freely say that once, a girlfriend and I had an abortion. After a year of dating, she stopped by work and called me out to the parking lot. I sat in her car as she told me one day she missed her pill, that she was pregnant, and asked how I felt. I filled the next 30 seconds with thoughtful silence; my mind dug deep through scenarios, then I said, “I want to fall in love, get married, and have children, but I want to do it in that order.” She stared out the windshield, then slowly nodded her head in agreement.
We made an appt. at a clinic in a converted house. It was a chilly day. She went back alone while I paced the waiting room, engaged in a staring contest with an anti-abortion activist glaring at me like a quietly seething stalker. I worried that he’d make a scene on our way out. We walked by him, my arms around her, her processing, with me ready to fight, and he just gave us a remorseful look. He felt more than he should for two total strangers, but thankfully he didn’t say a word.
The next day we continued living our lives and went on dating for a while, but my ambition did us in as a couple. After we broke up, she’d call me every Father’s Day. I stopped taking those calls. I’d tell myself, “It was a cold day in November; that’s it.” Now that I’m a dad with teenagers, I have enough perspective to know that, yeah, we would have had a great child. But we didn’t because, as two caring people, we didn’t feel it was right.
I’ve probably had all the abortions that I’m going to have, but I’m single again, with a girlfriend, and if we feel that same way, well, we have the ways and means. But a younger me would have had narrower choices if he had to have a kid out of step.
At 48, do I regret not having that child? Yes, 5%. Am I grateful that I got to live the life I wanted and have the two boys that I did? Yes, 200%. Abortion allowed me to “live the life I wanted to live”—and isn’t that the fundamental trait of being American?
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