Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Last time I created a full e-commerce web template for website owner who planning right now. In that design, I followed all the rules of UX latest design techniques. After finished, I started a dashboard design with the best experience for the adminstrator.

And finally, I finished the design.

Explainer stories written for syndication across GateHouse Media’s 125 daily newspapers includes bits on the VP nominees, third-party candidates and an issues-related breakdown between Trump and Clinton.
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Originally published by Do512

Grammy Award winning, platinum-selling hip-hop trio Naughty By Nature are back in full force, announcing their 25th Anniversary Tour that is set to hit 26 major cities across the U.S. in 2016. Comprised of New Jersey natives Vin Rock, Treach and DJ Kay Gee, Naughty By Nature took the hip-hop scene by storm in 1991 with the release of their debut album. Since then, the group has maintained an undeniable track record — creating hits and party anthems that have become the soundtrack to our lives.
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Originally published by The San Francisco Examiner. 

If the Raiders leave the Bay Area and return to Los Angeles — now more a likelihood than an idle threat — the seeds may be planted this week about 15 miles from O.co Coliseum in a San Francisco hotel.
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Samples of Research and accompanying Content Writing (trivia) for the social gaming platform PIXO, which was released by developer/CEO Jeff Morgan and his business partners in Dec. 2014
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Originally published at Myspace.com

The Scottish trio brought throbbing synthesizers and industrial pop to Austin, genuinely shocked by the warm Texan welcome. With stars in his eyes, one writer felt the spirit.
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Tony Romo for Philip Rivers. Straight Up. Let’s Do This.

Originally edited & published at Central Track. 

It’s been pretty fun watching Tony Romo duck, scramble, roll up and pick out a miracle play from his bag of tricks while the Dallas offensive linemen play clueless in the turf this past season.
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Originally edited & published at Central Track. 

And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down. — Jack London.
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9/11: MARCH AGAINST OBAMANATION

Photography by: Sean Marlin

It’s nearing midnight, and I’m waiting on a call by a waitress we met earlier after unpacking our bags and finding ourselves at her table in a café. She eventually comes around to it and agrees to show us around the D.C. entertainment district –it would be like something from film noir.

Originally edited & published at The Monarch Review.

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A WEEKEND WITH THE RADICAL RIGHT IN WASHINGTON, D.C.

Photography by: Sean Marlin
“We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear – fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts or suddenly getting locked up in a military detention camp on vague charges of being a Terrorist sympathizer.” –Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, 2003.

Originally edited & published at The Monarch Review.

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Originally published at Central Track. 

The 31st annual Hotter ‘N Hell bicycle races were held this weekend in Wichita Falls, an event home of the largest century bike race in North America. And when our friends at Richardson Bike Mart suggested we check it out we thought, Why not.

The idea is to race like a hellbat on wheels from marker to marker in a hundred degree heat until you hit Finish Line Village. Everyone from local enthusiasts to international pros come to participate.
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A week ago, the mood here at the sports desk was doleful and debased. The Rangers were at the tail end of their worst month of baseball since August 2008, and every down-and-out Josh Hamilton fan was lining up outside of the ballpark, ready to hand over their last can of snuff.

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Photography by: Erica Sondgeroth

Lone Star Park — home of the 2004 Breeder’s Cup — may not be boasting of many big-purse events in the near future, but it does promise free breakfast burritos and coffee once every week at its Jockeys & Javas event. And that’s usually enough to get us up early on a Saturday.
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Photography by: Christaan Felber

When indie psych-rockers Here We Go Magic aren’t busy jamming out at one of their many live shows, they can usually be found fine-tuning their unique sound back in Brooklyn, continuing a creative narrative that began as a singular effort on a 4-track by bandleader Luke Temple back in 2009.

Well, that or they’re picking up a hitchhiking John Waters on Route 70.
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Photography by: Thom Fain

Neon Indian – Era Extraña
Photography by: Thom Fain

I’m not sure what to expect at a Learning Secrets BLAZER TAG DANCEPARTY, because I don’t think it’s ever been done before. There are things to look forward to, sure, but what? The uncertainty is racking my nerves. I imagine running around and tagging people with laser rifles, and it sounds damn fun. But I don’t like the idea of losing in a laser tag tournament. It’s going to be a winner-takes-all tournament, with Fun Fun Fun Fest tickets up for grabs as the trophy.
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Photography by: John Sallans

I’m not sure what all the fuss was about with Kanye West headlining ACL this year, because he is the most forward-thinking man in American Music today. And, for a city that brands itself as the “Live Music Capital of the World,” it would only be just for the King to come take his rightful place on The Throne: The main stage at the biggest music festival of our always proud city-of-entertainment. And King Kanye does it in grand style, without the much-anticipated help of Viceroy Jay-Z.

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Photography by: Jon Shapely

Local artisan boot maker Joshua Bingaman and his team over at Helm Handmade held a party last night at The W showcasing their new Fall 2011 lineup, and they did it the only way they know how—in style.
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Photography by: Bobby Scheidemann

A Day & Night in the Hellfire Heat of
The Texas Summer

Photography by: A.R. Edmonson

I walk along the campus sidewalk past a group of factory made orange-skinned girls, down a hill and out onto a crosswalk before strutting into a bar for a drink. “One shot of whisky, and a pint of Lone Star,” I tell the bartender. It’s the daily price of parking the old Volvo under a tree in a lot close to campus, and much cheaper than being swindled into buying a parking pass from the University.

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I wake up on this fine summer morning after a long night of drinking and lay in bed with a cup of coffee to hear some great news from our Texas Governor on public radio: The BP oil catastrophe is really just the Wrath of God.

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ALL THINGS
CREATIVE

Photography Credit: Stephanie Kimberly

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination… Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent… Always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.” –Jim Jarmusch

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BEAUTY & GLAMOUR

Photography Credit: Stephanie Kimberly

It’s early November and nearing 11 o’clock at night. This weekend there will be a music festival, and it will kick ass.  But right now Sean and I are stuck in traffic, headed to a show in the Red River district. Sean Marlin is a friend of mine, a journalist-turned-artist with good sight for the Shadow between the Idea and Reality. He’s my ride tonight, with the Honda having been my third junkyard-bound victim of a certain carefree driving habit that I can’t seem to shake myself from. Being young and reckless in this country is not cheap, and this is especially true in a state that values its prison system over all other social institutions. The Honda was a fun little machine but lasted for just four months, before burning out after some other deranged, wide-eyed maniac swerved out of the parking lot of the Lunatic Asylum in North Austin and slammed into me head on.

It’s okay though because there are plenty of other 90’s-model rice burners that are still on the road[1], and I’m in one of them right now. Halfway to the venue we pass an auditorium emptying with people of all ages; people wearing AC/DC shirts and red, glowing devil’s horns. Sean turns to me from the driver’s seat and asks, “How could we have missed that AC/DC was in town, man?” shortly before rolling down the window and turning up the volume on his Wu-Tang-Clan CD. Method Man flows something like, “CASH RULES EVERYTHING AROUND ME, CREAM!! GET THE MONEY DOLLA DOLLA BILL Y’ALL,” which gives us something to laugh at as we, two grizzly-faced white boys, earn blank stares of awe. Confused little heads turn to look as we crawl through the swarm of washed-up hair band fans at ten miles-per-hour, and somewhere between these devilish music fans and the end of “C.R.E.A.M.” I try to make sense of what Method Man is saying but can’t, and wonder: Has the advancement of technology & introduction of hyper-connectivity to our generation caused some sort of creative halt, and is this The End of the West’s cultural imperialism? Various modern thinkers have introduced this theory as fact; a result of Disneyland’s creation of Main Street, USA and now I intend to take in tonight and the music festival until I find an answer. Little in my education has prepared me to do so, and trying to take on the social implications of consumer culture and of the effects of visual illiteracy on the Creative Class will prove to be daunting. For whatever reason I figure that Beauty Bar—one of seven in a service industry chain that caters to young people with an ear for pop music and an eye for whatever else is chic at the moment—should serve as a good place to start.

My introduction into the thriving world of today’s hipster[2] came after moving in to my brother’s living room in the projects of East Dallas in mid-2007, not long after James Murphy released an album with a detailed blueprint for what would be my every night that summer; ones spent not with my brother but our other roommate, his soon-to-be ex-wife who would run around to various bars and houses, dressed head-to-toe in American Apparel with a lollipop hanging out of her mouth and calling herself “The Life of The Party”. And, as much as I would have liked to sit alongside my brother at a desk every morning in the Crescent Court hotel—clean-shaven and being as fake as possible so as to please its money-rich patrons—there was something in The Life of The Party that I could identify with. So I injected myself into the Scene, hitching rides in various Volkswagens to The Party, only to return to my futon smashed on high amounts of cheap beer and with ears still buzzing with the songs of the moment. Around midday I might wake up next to M&M, a fashion school girl who liked to use my bed as a convenient location to end her night; a girl who couldn’t always remember everything about how she got back from The Party with no panties and into a face full of bloody vomit, but would make damn sure to stand in front of the mirror for an hour the next night ready to do it all again.

Yes, thanks to The Life of The Party and her friend The Morning After Monster, I’ve had the opportunity to look through the glass at today’s bohemia, one that bears almost no resemblance to the world Kerouac and Cassidy journeyed in and out of during the ‘40s. Today’s art scene has been created for us by the Gurus of Marketing, and I’m sure they have no problem sitting comfortably on a throne somewhere, reading Edward Bernays’ Crystallizing Public Opinion while getting a blowjob from their Barbie Doll wives as various young people are busy throwing money at their feet in a Slum far away. These “bohemians” seem only to understand to the fullest extent that alcohol, live music, and frivolously spending one’s earnings on the trendiest fashion can be a remedy for a great number of life’s problems, and they have taken these three aspects of our culture with such seriousness that their scope of what’s actually relevant to the world contracts so much that they become less of the independent type (as seen in actual counter-culture movements of the past) and more of an ultra-consumerist; would-be artists who can constantly play the fashion game of “I’ve conformed sooner than you” and win at it. I cannot say this for all of the people that wear trendy clothes and listen to great music—as I have had the pleasure of meeting some genuinely unique people at squareless hangouts and dive bars in Dallas—but the overall energy I absorb from this crowd is negative; one of nothingness which I can only assume stems from the large, spiritless swath of nihilists and hedonists that are attracted to whatever is advertised to them as Beauty.

Vanity levels run high at such places, and by both wearing symbols of fashion that are considered hip and by rejecting symbolism altogether, its patrons fail to realize that they are just another product of Corporate America. Being used—by Apple, American Apparel, Levi Strauss & Co. and various other corporations—to sell “cool” back to the mainstream American consumer. And, having been completely sold down the river on this idea of “cool”, the one-dimensional hipster fails to realize what a commodity they make of themselves. Many will proudly stand behind a cash register at a number of retailers, looking like mannequins and being paid nothing to learn nothing; a labor rabbit being eaten by the capital snake, waiting to be dismissed by the time clock to go and fashion themselves into their spoon-fed style and head out into the night to a party until they find The Party, where they tramp on under the clouded nighttime sky with an avid willingness to be used by both corporate hustlers of alcohol and street hustlers of stimulants, until they can be used no more and have to shut themselves off from the city.

* * *

Now it’s midnight and well over two years after my introduction to hipsterdom as Sean and I approach the bar. The bouncer scratches our names off of the list and we are allowed into the Pre-Party. I make my way past M&M and several other fashionably thin girls in their early twenties to the bar where I demand a glass of whiskey from a bartender who greets me with a pale stare which could have only been granted to her by the Gods of Fashion. I fork over my debit MasterCard and get lost in the crowd to absorb the DJ’s rhythm. But before I can try anything ridiculous out of my repertoire of dance moves, I see a couple of familiar of faces out front, two DJs from Dallas who have made the trek down for the weekend’s music festival. I walk outside for to greet them, and after a cigarette & general music talk I ask Tommy (the more successful of the two) about what it takes to be a good DJ, as he just recently had earned a weekly spot on the rotation at one of the more prolific bars in Dallas.

“So when you DJ you’re not actually creating anything new but remixing other people’s work?” Tommy takes a sip of Lone Star before looking me straight in the eye (I think) through his wayfarer shades and says,
“Yeah, but I’ve been DJing for twelve years. Right now I use Traktor. I may not be creating anything new, but I know how to throw a party and fuck every pretty girl in [the music scene] that you’ve ever laid eyes on, including those models from Studio S.”

And with that he shoots me a grin full of big, unnaturally white teeth and all I can do is take a sip of my whiskey and admire his candor. Mark, the other DJ who is already in a drunken stupor, turns to me with eyes glazed over and slurs out what I think is a comedic touch in agreeance to whatever Tommy is saying.
Amazement begins to fail me when I look to my left and notice Sean sitting at a table nearby, so I get up and head toward one of two empty seats and sit down, trying to ignite a serious conversation about Guy Debord’s theories before realizing both that Beauty Bar would be an awful place to do this and that it might just be time to let go; forget about my ambition for the rest of the night and take up that familiar lust for pretty women & good music and just enjoy myself. There is something very primal about the pleasure that a good beat & dancing women will give a man, and with enough alcohol in his system it is impossible not to be consumed by this pleasure. Given that, and taken that Sean’s ex-squeeze is coming through to snatch him up for the night, I start to feel the Wolf coming out, ready to be consumed by the pleasures of the night. And consumed I will be, as I catch the eye of a girl from Dallas I remember having lusted after on the dance floor outside with her friend, a chatty photographer with the same fire of ambition in her eyes as mine. They’re mingling with two members of VEGA and Neon Indian[3] and after talking with Palomo (the group’s frontman) about the best taco stands in Austin or something of that nature, I secure an interview for the following day.

[1] It’s nearing the end of 2009, and in the midst of the Great Recession and mind-blowing that Detroit isn’t already a ghost city.

[2] Hipsterdom, I’m forced to write, although no one can argue against the fact that this is not a subculture, but a fashion.

[3] An act from our hometown, bent on an interesting mixture of electronic and analog sounds; some original and some sampled from other musicians. We had seen them play as both outfits many times before in Dallas, which (coupled with blogosphere hype) had served as a launching pad for the group.