I won't be around for more than likely the remainder of the week. Yesterday morning I found out that my grandfather passed away. Hell of a guy. Wish I'd gotten to see him more often, but 1000 god damned miles of coastline were preventative. Anyways, in a couple of hours or so, I'll be heading off to Florida to attend the funeral. Should you want to read me in my absence, You may find that my archives have some decent entries.
Also there are a couple of posts from the defunct Absurdity Jam that I count among my best.
Catch you all laters.
4.30.2007
4.28.2007
We can't say we're satisfied
A 2003 Honda Civic with faux leopard skin seats pulls up to a 7-11. The female who aided it in doing so opens the door and exits. a minute later, she opens another door and exits, turning and flashing a smile at the two figures standing outside; one with a bike and a cigarette, another with neither.
"What are you too doing, hanging out there?"
"Just hanging out here."
"Loitering."
"Oh. Why do you look guilty?"
"That's simple. We are"
"Thoroughly. Now you're guilty by association"
"Ah. You're probably wondering why I'm opening the passenger door to get in"
"Exactly that, in fact."
"I can't unlock the driver's side door from the outside. I'm never buying a foreign car again"
"You know, the way they outsource for manufacturing and the way the designs are influenced, it's nearly impossible to 'buy American' totally."
"Yeah well I prefer Japanese cars anyways"
"Japanese cars are foreign cars..."
"Oh I'm sorry. I'm drunk, you have to understand"
We understood.
She drove off.
"cute girl., eh? Hope she doesn't kill herself out there."
"You can't look to me for agreement, I have a girlfriend"
"You can't hope for her well-being because you have a girlfriend?"
"You don't know my girlfriend."
I talk to strangers. As a rule.
Easy way to make my day, and hopefully someone else's, more interesting. Of course that's not all it does.
Airports are a particularly good place to meet strangers. At least for me. Theres an almost palpable feeling that everyone around you is sharing the same burden. It doesn't matter where you come from or how much money is in your pocket, anyone can have their shit torn through, stolen, or wind up in Belgium. Jet lag, anxiety from delayed flights, insomnia and exhaustion weigh heavy on the denizens of any given terminal. It's no coincidence that you'll find monks and cult leaders handing out religious texts at airports. People are in a state conducive to accepting new ideas. One of those ideas, apparently, is that talking to me is a good way to spend one's time.
Sometimes airport stress compounds other burdens, and it was clear that this was the case when I met one particular skyway refugee. She was, no doubts, older than me, with platinum blonde hair and a sort of uncertain smile Curiously, the conversation began (more or less) with us guessing each other's ages. I say, "curiously," because typically that's one of the last things that comes up in these sorts of situations where I'm involved with them. I lowballed out of courtesy, and was correct. She was pretty far off.
There was, of course, the boilerplate "getting to know you" bullshit. She showed me her sketchpad; I showed her a couple of pages from my writer's notebook. The stuff I'd banged out in class and hadn't really polished to any degree. Told her I was headed home for the Christmas break. She told me her story; how she was moving back in with her boyfriend, closing a rift between them. How her carry-on was filled with makeup and her clothes were being brought in by truck.
The cart came by and she ordered a Jim Beam and Coke. She nursed it as we continued to talk. Each of us was quite clearly interested in the other, due perhaps to what I'd mentioned earlier. She seemed eager to keep in touch and was about to give her number when the cart came back again
She eagerly added another shot to her drink. "Not strong enough," she said.
I may have said to Jason that the primary difference between one of my stories and one of his is the ending. A statement that could easily be misconstrued as a value judgment, but this story in particular demonstrates that it is not one.
She was clearly mulling a decision in her mind. What I realize in hindsight was that it was one she'd already made. She told me more about her boyfriend, how things had gotten rocky beforehand. How she would leave him if it turned out to be more of the same.
Jim Beam was betraying her and it was clear that there was something specific that she wasn't saying. I didn't press her, but eventually it too was clear, and it became clear to me that she was making a mistake. Perhaps to her as well. For a moment she was in a bit of a state. But it faded quickly and she was cheerful again. The transition was disturbing. Before long the plane was on the ground and I was helping her with her bags and trying to come up with a good reason to give her my number (I was bad at it then). But then there he was, come to pick her up as I'd expected, but he was a lot closer than I thought he'd be. And there was no way I could leave it then. I just nodded a quick goodbye and was off.
This has haunted me since, and I was reminded of it in one of {illyria}'s recent posts. She mentioned meeting strangers, and the serendipity, the disappointments, and the missed opportunities involved therein, as well as the distinctions between the three. And I'm not foolish enough to assume that I'm capable of saving anyone. But there was the opportunity to leave a line open, and it was missed. I hope she got out on her own, but save some bizarre coincidence, I'll never know.
Sing it, Mick
"What are you too doing, hanging out there?"
"Just hanging out here."
"Loitering."
"Oh. Why do you look guilty?"
"That's simple. We are"
"Thoroughly. Now you're guilty by association"
"Ah. You're probably wondering why I'm opening the passenger door to get in"
"Exactly that, in fact."
"I can't unlock the driver's side door from the outside. I'm never buying a foreign car again"
"You know, the way they outsource for manufacturing and the way the designs are influenced, it's nearly impossible to 'buy American' totally."
"Yeah well I prefer Japanese cars anyways"
"Japanese cars are foreign cars..."
"Oh I'm sorry. I'm drunk, you have to understand"
We understood.
She drove off.
"cute girl., eh? Hope she doesn't kill herself out there."
"You can't look to me for agreement, I have a girlfriend"
"You can't hope for her well-being because you have a girlfriend?"
"You don't know my girlfriend."
I talk to strangers. As a rule.
Easy way to make my day, and hopefully someone else's, more interesting. Of course that's not all it does.
Airports are a particularly good place to meet strangers. At least for me. Theres an almost palpable feeling that everyone around you is sharing the same burden. It doesn't matter where you come from or how much money is in your pocket, anyone can have their shit torn through, stolen, or wind up in Belgium. Jet lag, anxiety from delayed flights, insomnia and exhaustion weigh heavy on the denizens of any given terminal. It's no coincidence that you'll find monks and cult leaders handing out religious texts at airports. People are in a state conducive to accepting new ideas. One of those ideas, apparently, is that talking to me is a good way to spend one's time.
Sometimes airport stress compounds other burdens, and it was clear that this was the case when I met one particular skyway refugee. She was, no doubts, older than me, with platinum blonde hair and a sort of uncertain smile Curiously, the conversation began (more or less) with us guessing each other's ages. I say, "curiously," because typically that's one of the last things that comes up in these sorts of situations where I'm involved with them. I lowballed out of courtesy, and was correct. She was pretty far off.
There was, of course, the boilerplate "getting to know you" bullshit. She showed me her sketchpad; I showed her a couple of pages from my writer's notebook. The stuff I'd banged out in class and hadn't really polished to any degree. Told her I was headed home for the Christmas break. She told me her story; how she was moving back in with her boyfriend, closing a rift between them. How her carry-on was filled with makeup and her clothes were being brought in by truck.
The cart came by and she ordered a Jim Beam and Coke. She nursed it as we continued to talk. Each of us was quite clearly interested in the other, due perhaps to what I'd mentioned earlier. She seemed eager to keep in touch and was about to give her number when the cart came back again
She eagerly added another shot to her drink. "Not strong enough," she said.
I may have said to Jason that the primary difference between one of my stories and one of his is the ending. A statement that could easily be misconstrued as a value judgment, but this story in particular demonstrates that it is not one.
She was clearly mulling a decision in her mind. What I realize in hindsight was that it was one she'd already made. She told me more about her boyfriend, how things had gotten rocky beforehand. How she would leave him if it turned out to be more of the same.
Jim Beam was betraying her and it was clear that there was something specific that she wasn't saying. I didn't press her, but eventually it too was clear, and it became clear to me that she was making a mistake. Perhaps to her as well. For a moment she was in a bit of a state. But it faded quickly and she was cheerful again. The transition was disturbing. Before long the plane was on the ground and I was helping her with her bags and trying to come up with a good reason to give her my number (I was bad at it then). But then there he was, come to pick her up as I'd expected, but he was a lot closer than I thought he'd be. And there was no way I could leave it then. I just nodded a quick goodbye and was off.
This has haunted me since, and I was reminded of it in one of {illyria}'s recent posts. She mentioned meeting strangers, and the serendipity, the disappointments, and the missed opportunities involved therein, as well as the distinctions between the three. And I'm not foolish enough to assume that I'm capable of saving anyone. But there was the opportunity to leave a line open, and it was missed. I hope she got out on her own, but save some bizarre coincidence, I'll never know.
Sing it, Mick
4.26.2007
Had to put this up front
Before reading anything below (yes I've written something new but this takes precedent), go over and show Shayna some love and help welcome her Carter into the world.
Many congratulations to Shayna. We've missed you.
Many congratulations to Shayna. We've missed you.
mindless jerks pollute the airwaves as I lie coughing
I meant to post earlier, but every time I've sat down to type since the last time I posted I've found myself unable to quite figure out how I wanted to go about telling a story I've been meaning to tell. I still haven't figured it out yet. But I do have something to fill the void.
The problem with listening to Sox games on the radio is that when the Sox aren't playing on WRKO, it's usually some jackass right wing talk radio host spouting bullshit. Which means that on occasion, that will be the ambient sound at my house. This particular occasion, I heard a painfully annoying voice mock those who perceived Seung-Hui Cho, the Virginia Tech shooter, to also be a victim, using that as a jumping-off point to decrying liberalism as a mental disorder.
Which is exactly the sort of antic that defines Talkshow Conservatism; the prevalent variety of conservatism in Massachusetts. A talkshow conservative will mock you for the conclusion you draw, even if the relevant facts point directly to that conclusion. Another example of this is abstinence-only sex education (which thankfully was rejected in this state despite the fact that federal funding was lost as a result), which retains traction even though it's been proven ineffective.
Back to the point
There is no sane person who will try to deny the horrific nature of Seung-Hui Cho's actions. There is no one who will excuse him for them, or claim that he didn't get off more easily than he deserved by biting his own bullet.
But the facts remain that he was judged in court to be a danger to himself and others. He was not helped.
He was allowed to purchase the weapon that he used to end his life as well as the lives of his classmates, despite the law prohibiting this given the abovementioned judgment
He was a victim.
Not that I'm mourning him. But I can understand those who feel the need to.
And mocking the Virginia Tech students who did; who may themselves have lost friends in the shootings was, beyond all doubt, a total douchebag move.
I don't remember who the asshole was, nor do I wish to. But he might as well be every right wing radio host, because there are few who I think are above such a rant. The entire thing seemed to be a means of propping himself up as some hero of pundits, here to save us from such nonsense. The timbre of his voice was almost as patently offensive as the content. Come the revolution he'll be of first up against the wall. Given, it'd have to be a hell of a wall...
The problem with listening to Sox games on the radio is that when the Sox aren't playing on WRKO, it's usually some jackass right wing talk radio host spouting bullshit. Which means that on occasion, that will be the ambient sound at my house. This particular occasion, I heard a painfully annoying voice mock those who perceived Seung-Hui Cho, the Virginia Tech shooter, to also be a victim, using that as a jumping-off point to decrying liberalism as a mental disorder.
Which is exactly the sort of antic that defines Talkshow Conservatism; the prevalent variety of conservatism in Massachusetts. A talkshow conservative will mock you for the conclusion you draw, even if the relevant facts point directly to that conclusion. Another example of this is abstinence-only sex education (which thankfully was rejected in this state despite the fact that federal funding was lost as a result), which retains traction even though it's been proven ineffective.
Back to the point
There is no sane person who will try to deny the horrific nature of Seung-Hui Cho's actions. There is no one who will excuse him for them, or claim that he didn't get off more easily than he deserved by biting his own bullet.
But the facts remain that he was judged in court to be a danger to himself and others. He was not helped.
He was allowed to purchase the weapon that he used to end his life as well as the lives of his classmates, despite the law prohibiting this given the abovementioned judgment
He was a victim.
Not that I'm mourning him. But I can understand those who feel the need to.
And mocking the Virginia Tech students who did; who may themselves have lost friends in the shootings was, beyond all doubt, a total douchebag move.
I don't remember who the asshole was, nor do I wish to. But he might as well be every right wing radio host, because there are few who I think are above such a rant. The entire thing seemed to be a means of propping himself up as some hero of pundits, here to save us from such nonsense. The timbre of his voice was almost as patently offensive as the content. Come the revolution he'll be of first up against the wall. Given, it'd have to be a hell of a wall...
4.21.2007
My 4/20 story actually happened on 4/19
The plan was to meet in the park and fly kites. For some reason, perhaps a pertinent saying, I felt compelled to add a step three, but I hadn't the means. I made attempts to contact friends who likely would be able and willing to assist in the procurement but alas, no avail.
It was therefore decided that we would fly the kites and yell at them. As if kites soar higher when set adrift upon loud profanity. The real motive was that if any passing by were of the ability to lend assistance, they would know that we were of the sort that could do with it. Either none such were there or we failed to get the message across. We parted ways
I decided for no particular reason to walk up Newbury Street. Behind me I heard a conversation that I just had to join in on between a male and a female.
"You know, I'm pretty sure that it's a waste of time looking for the Answer. There may not even be one"
Naturally I turned and said, "You're close but you've got it backwards. There is indeed an answer; it's Forty-two. There just isn't a question."
They didn't get the reference but were fascinated nonetheless. I pressed on
"Looking for answers with a lowercase "a" is a lot more enlightening than looking for The Answer. Even if you do find it it'll likely be of no use to you."
to which the male replied, "You're right, man. You can find a lot more meaning in a cigarette, or hell, a joint, than God. I mean even if he's real I'm pretty sure he's not anything we think he is"
And with an air of inspiration, the female added, "by the way, would you like to join us?"
And the three of us did what I'd set out to do in the first place.
I was telling this story to my friend Josh as he made a valiant effort to talk on the phone, drive his car, and light a cigarette at the same time. Dear friends, I am proud to say that he was successful. There's a longstanding meme in our conversations regarding the difference between a success and an achievement. We've decided that to succeed, one must try. Which may seem self-evident, but that we also established (at least where our usage is concerned) that something that happens without intent cannot be a success. It can be an achievement, however, as the phrase "achieve an erection" makes unfortunately clear. But what in this case? I certainly had intent, but I had a very specific plan that very specifically failed. Though one could argue that the pattern of my behavior that led to this success/achievement is consistent with my behavior at the park and therefore I succeeded in fulfilling the agenda behind said behavior. One could argue. Most likely one wouldn't unless it was late at night and one is having coffee with an equally strange friend
Anyways, perhaps the oddest thing about the story is that it took place a day early. I actually wasn't aware of the date at all until the next day.
Apologies to any who were expecting to find anything meaningful here tonight =P
It was therefore decided that we would fly the kites and yell at them. As if kites soar higher when set adrift upon loud profanity. The real motive was that if any passing by were of the ability to lend assistance, they would know that we were of the sort that could do with it. Either none such were there or we failed to get the message across. We parted ways
I decided for no particular reason to walk up Newbury Street. Behind me I heard a conversation that I just had to join in on between a male and a female.
"You know, I'm pretty sure that it's a waste of time looking for the Answer. There may not even be one"
Naturally I turned and said, "You're close but you've got it backwards. There is indeed an answer; it's Forty-two. There just isn't a question."
They didn't get the reference but were fascinated nonetheless. I pressed on
"Looking for answers with a lowercase "a" is a lot more enlightening than looking for The Answer. Even if you do find it it'll likely be of no use to you."
to which the male replied, "You're right, man. You can find a lot more meaning in a cigarette, or hell, a joint, than God. I mean even if he's real I'm pretty sure he's not anything we think he is"
And with an air of inspiration, the female added, "by the way, would you like to join us?"
And the three of us did what I'd set out to do in the first place.
I was telling this story to my friend Josh as he made a valiant effort to talk on the phone, drive his car, and light a cigarette at the same time. Dear friends, I am proud to say that he was successful. There's a longstanding meme in our conversations regarding the difference between a success and an achievement. We've decided that to succeed, one must try. Which may seem self-evident, but that we also established (at least where our usage is concerned) that something that happens without intent cannot be a success. It can be an achievement, however, as the phrase "achieve an erection" makes unfortunately clear. But what in this case? I certainly had intent, but I had a very specific plan that very specifically failed. Though one could argue that the pattern of my behavior that led to this success/achievement is consistent with my behavior at the park and therefore I succeeded in fulfilling the agenda behind said behavior. One could argue. Most likely one wouldn't unless it was late at night and one is having coffee with an equally strange friend
Anyways, perhaps the oddest thing about the story is that it took place a day early. I actually wasn't aware of the date at all until the next day.
Apologies to any who were expecting to find anything meaningful here tonight =P
4.17.2007
Hmm, that's a new one
"hey, can you get high from sleeping too much?" (honest to god I was asked this)
Wouldn't know.
I have come, after much well-deserved and persistent pestering, come to embrace the wonder that is 3WK net radio. Erin, you were right, I should have listened to you. You're a wise, wonderful goddess. Here be indie rock
It's been pissing rain here and I've split time between having a cold and only sort of having a cold. There used to be an adage one adhered to about what came of rainfall during this particular month. Given that my last birthday was marked by record rainfall, and the pear-shaped nature of weather in general lately due to global fucking warming, I'm willing to bet that said adage can be taken out to the backyard, Old Yeller style.
Oh yeah and my 21st is next month on the fifteenth. woo and such.
I've been cruising Youtube looking to fill at least some of the void left by the absence of our dear Bohemian, and have come across Natalie. She's smart, witty, and fucking nuts in the way that anyone who knows me understands is 100% complementary. I'm basically hooked. Also, I think that most cases of Australian women speaking can be considered erotica.
My penultimate tweet makes reference to a minor culinary attempt of mine: peanut sauce. I'm still working on it, and I've used this recipe as a reference (don't mind that the blog belongs to a fictional character), but have gone in different directions, mostly (entirely) because I've been too lazy to go and hunt down the proper ingredients. So far I've used a sort of an ad hoc brown sugar syrup in place of honey and a combination of various things from the spice cabinet (ginger, garlic, onion powder, red pepper, etc) and cider vinegar in place of the chili sauce and it's come out tasty. But it's not quite done yet. Nor is anything I've cooked actually. One thing I love about cooking is that there's no deadline for perfecting a recipe (despite the deadline for the actual meal) and no director telling you that the show is frozen until production and that nothing is to be changed. A complete aversion to writing things in anything more permanent than a paper napkin. It's a good philosophy in general. Grow. Adapt. Change. Never stop. Be grounded, but not burdened.
Huh
Despite my desire to say more, the presence of "5 AM bullshit" (not to say that it's necessarily bullshit in the normal sense, only to say that it reads like bullshit to the eyes of the author) in this post means it's time for me to cut short.
Wouldn't know.
I have come, after much well-deserved and persistent pestering, come to embrace the wonder that is 3WK net radio. Erin, you were right, I should have listened to you. You're a wise, wonderful goddess. Here be indie rock
It's been pissing rain here and I've split time between having a cold and only sort of having a cold. There used to be an adage one adhered to about what came of rainfall during this particular month. Given that my last birthday was marked by record rainfall, and the pear-shaped nature of weather in general lately due to global fucking warming, I'm willing to bet that said adage can be taken out to the backyard, Old Yeller style.
Oh yeah and my 21st is next month on the fifteenth. woo and such.
I've been cruising Youtube looking to fill at least some of the void left by the absence of our dear Bohemian, and have come across Natalie. She's smart, witty, and fucking nuts in the way that anyone who knows me understands is 100% complementary. I'm basically hooked. Also, I think that most cases of Australian women speaking can be considered erotica.
My penultimate tweet makes reference to a minor culinary attempt of mine: peanut sauce. I'm still working on it, and I've used this recipe as a reference (don't mind that the blog belongs to a fictional character), but have gone in different directions, mostly (entirely) because I've been too lazy to go and hunt down the proper ingredients. So far I've used a sort of an ad hoc brown sugar syrup in place of honey and a combination of various things from the spice cabinet (ginger, garlic, onion powder, red pepper, etc) and cider vinegar in place of the chili sauce and it's come out tasty. But it's not quite done yet. Nor is anything I've cooked actually. One thing I love about cooking is that there's no deadline for perfecting a recipe (despite the deadline for the actual meal) and no director telling you that the show is frozen until production and that nothing is to be changed. A complete aversion to writing things in anything more permanent than a paper napkin. It's a good philosophy in general. Grow. Adapt. Change. Never stop. Be grounded, but not burdened.
Huh
Despite my desire to say more, the presence of "5 AM bullshit" (not to say that it's necessarily bullshit in the normal sense, only to say that it reads like bullshit to the eyes of the author) in this post means it's time for me to cut short.
4.13.2007
I was going to come up with something for tonight
But I didn't.
I guess I did give out some relationship advice that turned out to be wildly correct. I guess I had to know what was right for somebody.
And because this post is small, here's some Zepp
I guess I did give out some relationship advice that turned out to be wildly correct. I guess I had to know what was right for somebody.
And because this post is small, here's some Zepp
4.11.2007
If you came here looking for something particularly relevant... yeah... sorry. Not tonight
it's true
we've been watching you
while you eat and sleep
and in the shower
we've examined your life
in its entirety
and we've concluded
That we'd rather not meet you officially after all
we've been watching you
while you eat and sleep
and in the shower
we've examined your life
in its entirety
and we've concluded
That we'd rather not meet you officially after all
So I've been hanging out a lot with a friend of mine and his (not new to him but only recently introduced to me) girlfriend. It should be taken as a sign of things to come that she and I are already pulling pranks on him.
We went bowling. I was using a 15 pound ball and a 12 pound ball; one to smash 'em and one to pick 'em up. When I got around to picking up the 12 pounder for the first time, I almost took out one of the overhanging TVs in the backswing. Not because I let go of it, but because that's how high my arm went when I drew it back. I am interchangeably known to them as "jolly green giant," "Monkey Man," and "Super-Sized Kurt Cobain."
I was thinking lately--and I know that this isn't an urgent issue in the least but I went ahead and thought about it anyways because that's the kind of guy I am--that if we were going to come suddenly into contact with intelligent life from other planets, we'd be in for embarrasment beyond our technology (you have to start somewhere) and society (who's to say that alien would necessarily be any better than us?). The fact that we fucked up when naming bodies in our own solar system will be right up there, trust me. Our own planet is named after dirt while all the rest are named after fucking gods. The Moon I suppose can get a pass, but only if you think of it in the same terms as The Band (speaking of which what the fuck is the deal with the tribute album it was supposed to come out last year I mean seriously). But the same cannot be said of the Sun. Or The Solar System. And just because some jackoff decided that they could be called Sol and The Sol System respectively doesn't mean the problem is solved.
Yeah I know it's a long way off before we need to worry about that stuff, but I bet that if it ever becomes a problem it'll become a problem in a hell of a hurry. So what it boils down to is we need a name for our sun (the name for the solar system, obviously, will follow) and for our home planet. If we start now, maybe some sort of agreement can be reached by the time it becomes an issue.
4.10.2007
Art versus Culture 2: David and (Todd) Goliath
the thieving artist
who from the internet takes
will soon find rebuke
who from the internet takes
will soon find rebuke
Exhibit A: Taken from the webcomic Purple Pussy by Dave Kelly. The September 8, 2001 strip to be specific
Exhibit B: From, well, an exhibit. To be specific, Golddigger, the Jack Gallery's exhibit of the artwork of Todd "Goliath" Goldman, which surfaced recently in Los Angeles.
Todd Goldman is a douchebag. Hands down. And I know that art plagiarism is no new concept and that it's rampant on the internet, but this fucker has made millions off of a T-shirt empire full of concepts every bit as stolen as this one. Ok no wait that's not actually correct. This one is very thoroughly stolen.
That's right. He fucking traced it. Poorly I might add; he messed up the head. And in case there was any question as to whether or not this was intended as an homage, Here's the clincher. A quote from the article.
Goldman attributes his inspiration to his wittiness and weird sense of humor.
"I'm just wacked out of my mind. Things just come to me really quickly. I have complete ADD so I've never finished a book before. I haven't really watched cartoons or read comic books. It's just my witty sense of humor and my love to draw," Goldman said.
Am I the only one cringing?
DOUCHEBAG
And while I know that I'm very likely the only one here who has any interest in the webcomic community, I'm putting this out there to do my part in making the case known, because the more people are made aware of it, the better odds Dave has at suing Todd into the stone age.
And also let this be a message to artists of all stripes who post on the net: Keep an eye out. You might be the one who catches the next Todd Goldman and ruins him.
4.07.2007
I suppose Art's just waiting for it's Battle of Thermopylae
Cooper gave a heads-up on National Poetry Month. And I do really try not to seem like I follow her in her tracks, but I haven't written poetry in a hell of a long time and I really should be. So I think that for the month if it comes upon me to write an epigram for a post I will. This will, not, I suspect, be my best work.
Hid behind the curtain
or taking a shower
One can't be certain
Self loathing: an affliction
Or a veil
Fact or fiction
No avail
In correlation to Schroedinger, the act of drawing back the curtain changes the details of what, indeed, if anything is behind the curtain. Though if absolutely nothing is behind it then it is safe to say that there's trouble.
Another round of art versus commerce.
Same song, different words. It's like fucking Nickelback. And even they only did that once. Well, only literally did that once.
Got a notice that the guy who oversaw the summer theater group I roll with last summer is stepping down. No word who if anyone is going to step into his place. It can be safely said that it won't be me. I can write, direct, and act in theater. No producer, I. I do hope someone steps in though. I've got a jones and I have very little desire to go grubbing for bit parts in Boston for next to no pay as opposed to being a significant part in a play with people I like for no money.
Art Versus Commerce at a small scale, perhaps. The art side has its martyrs and the commerce side has its fascists and it's clear now that it'll give Science Versus Religion a run for its money in its longevity. But to the topic that I did in fact link to, I want you to imagine a world where every trademark holder potentially has veto power over art. If the revolution does not come then, I'm afraid it's possible we'll have crossed the event horizon.
But then again it feels like we're speeding towards a whole slew of those, doesn't it?
Another round of art versus commerce.
Same song, different words. It's like fucking Nickelback. And even they only did that once. Well, only literally did that once.
Got a notice that the guy who oversaw the summer theater group I roll with last summer is stepping down. No word who if anyone is going to step into his place. It can be safely said that it won't be me. I can write, direct, and act in theater. No producer, I. I do hope someone steps in though. I've got a jones and I have very little desire to go grubbing for bit parts in Boston for next to no pay as opposed to being a significant part in a play with people I like for no money.
Art Versus Commerce at a small scale, perhaps. The art side has its martyrs and the commerce side has its fascists and it's clear now that it'll give Science Versus Religion a run for its money in its longevity. But to the topic that I did in fact link to, I want you to imagine a world where every trademark holder potentially has veto power over art. If the revolution does not come then, I'm afraid it's possible we'll have crossed the event horizon.
But then again it feels like we're speeding towards a whole slew of those, doesn't it?
4.06.2007
Kevin Smith was right, Alanis is god
When an insanely popular hit song can be savagely burned simply by singing it sincerely, it's telling what sort of state music is in.
On the other hand, there's Alanis.
If you don't love Alanis, you're wrong.
Plain and simple.
--------------------------------------------------------------
For the "No Shit" file
Conservative radio assholes around here have been mocking the Kyoto protocoll and in fact any effort to curb emissions due to a supposed lack of conclusive proof, which is I suppose what is required to fight pollution but not what is required to fight a war. I wonder if even a declaration of 90% certainty is going to move them. Should it come up I'll be sure to call in.
Also, apparently the largest donor to the attack campaign that Bush had no ties to (nudge nudge wink wink) has been rewarded with an ambassador post during the recess and may even draw a salary for it despite the fact that federal law that prevents recess appointees from being paid.
On this day, a Friday, when 2000+ years ago a man was nailed to a tree for saying it would be great if we weren't dicks to each other, who never in fact said that he was God despite what others said. Given what happened on this day back then and the fact that since then the latter teaching has caught on far better than the former, and in fact a number of people have lost their heads and reputations for not embracing the latter at the hands of people who clearly weren't embracing the former, being myself no longer an embracer of the former but in fact a firm believer in the latter, and given the nature of the rest of this post, I declare this also to be yet another Fuck You Friday.
This is not, I say merely to disclaim, meant as a sleight on those who believe in and practice both of the aforementioned teachings, however silly I personally find the latter (After all, like I said, Alanis is god). But to require the latter in defiance of the former is to lose my respect, by any meaning of the word.
4.05.2007
Now that I think of it I may have done this one before, but still I like how this came out
So there was something I was going to write last night but it left me and then Firefox went tit up on me. As it happens, I've been tagged by Anna and, the sweetheart that she is, only had to beg a little for the honor.
The meme is words of a given letter that hold some meaning, and I was tagged with the letter F.
yes, we're all thinking it, so I'm going to put it first.
Fuck
We can take as read the predilection one might have for the literal meaning of the word, because it's really so much greater than that (or broader, leastaways). It carries with it all the usage that Charles Schultz popularized "Good Grief" with in Peanuts and more. "Fuck off!" Go "Fuck Yourself!" "What the Fuck!?" "Fuck the Haters!" et al. "Fuckin A!" is a favorite of mine, because of it's peculiar usage in the positive. It's common for it to be misused, as in, "Man, I just got a speeding ticket"/ Fuckin' A, dude. No. It's a term of agreement. As in, "Let's get some ice cream!" "Fuckin' A!" If you've been here before you know I'm in Favor of it as an intensifier. Also, if one uses it and other words of its kind in the company of 3+ syllable words it will astound and confuse the simple and weak minds.
Fool
While it's true that I prefer not to suffer fools, as they are generally recognized, I take pride in owning up to my own foolishness. furthermore, when I occasion to meet a Fool in the Shakespearean sense of the word it is never unwelcome. I'm not quite sure whether or not I fall into that category in general--clearly I sometimes play the role, even when I'm not on stage--but I'm in love with the irony behind the title of Fool in that their main function is to point out folly in others, while behaving deliciously ridiculous.
Females
Are awesome.
Explaining in detail why would be beyond the scope of the meme and would also take me the rest of the night.
No, I'm not just pandering to my lopsided demographics. Hush, you.
Fantasy
As a genre I gobble it up and I make no secret about it. Books, movies, roleplaying games, video games... etc. As a pastime it's an escape from drudgery and a necessity to any who calls themself an artist.
Fiction
William Faulkner once said that the best fiction is far more true than any kind of journalism, and I say that truth of that caliber is not often spoken. I love fiction; both reading it and writing it. But I have no end of scorn for those who present it as literal truth.
Forty-two
This one is a bit esoteric (who would ever guess that such a thing would come from me) and as such I find it hard to explain without disseminating the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. If you've read it and have any great need to hear why I find it particularly important beyond a mere reference to a brilliant work of fiction and satire, then only say the word. Otherwise I humbly suggest you read it
Fear and Loathing
This one also requires an explanation. You may be aware that the term was popularized by Hunter S Thompson, specifically in his titles. And while I suppose to fully understand what the Good Doctor meant by it would require a time machine and some chemicals, It has come to convey the air of disgust and disillusionment borne of democracy, and indeed, society, gone awry. It's the anguish of the thinking populace that discovers that the men and women paid to serve them have betrayed their interests. And moreover, it's the vigilance and determination to expose and eliminate the ugliness in our culture.
Food
Love it. Love cooking it, love eating it, love exploring new sorts of it. When the sustenance required to continue living can be a form of artistic expression, when it can be a means to bring people together... then the lives it sustains can only be enriched.
Family
Genetically speaking I come from a huge one, but I consider it to go beyond that entirely. I have only two siblings but I consider many to be my brothers (yes, sisters too but I just didn't want to say "brothers and sisters" because that sounds sort of cliche and lame).
Freedom
Not to be diluted, abridged, or restricted, save for respect to the rights of others. Anything less is an unworthy compromise and a great heresy against human nature. It's a simple idea, but to fully embrace it and all it entails can be a challenge for some.
And I do believe that's it. Hope I didn't miss anything.
This post, to restate the apparent, has been brought to you by the letter F. Thanks again to Anna. Anyone wishing a tag can have one if they ask. I'm hoping that the thing I was trying to write last night returns...
The meme is words of a given letter that hold some meaning, and I was tagged with the letter F.
yes, we're all thinking it, so I'm going to put it first.
Fuck
We can take as read the predilection one might have for the literal meaning of the word, because it's really so much greater than that (or broader, leastaways). It carries with it all the usage that Charles Schultz popularized "Good Grief" with in Peanuts and more. "Fuck off!" Go "Fuck Yourself!" "What the Fuck!?" "Fuck the Haters!" et al. "Fuckin A!" is a favorite of mine, because of it's peculiar usage in the positive. It's common for it to be misused, as in, "Man, I just got a speeding ticket"/ Fuckin' A, dude. No. It's a term of agreement. As in, "Let's get some ice cream!" "Fuckin' A!" If you've been here before you know I'm in Favor of it as an intensifier. Also, if one uses it and other words of its kind in the company of 3+ syllable words it will astound and confuse the simple and weak minds.
Fool
While it's true that I prefer not to suffer fools, as they are generally recognized, I take pride in owning up to my own foolishness. furthermore, when I occasion to meet a Fool in the Shakespearean sense of the word it is never unwelcome. I'm not quite sure whether or not I fall into that category in general--clearly I sometimes play the role, even when I'm not on stage--but I'm in love with the irony behind the title of Fool in that their main function is to point out folly in others, while behaving deliciously ridiculous.
Females
Are awesome.
Explaining in detail why would be beyond the scope of the meme and would also take me the rest of the night.
No, I'm not just pandering to my lopsided demographics. Hush, you.
Fantasy
As a genre I gobble it up and I make no secret about it. Books, movies, roleplaying games, video games... etc. As a pastime it's an escape from drudgery and a necessity to any who calls themself an artist.
Fiction
William Faulkner once said that the best fiction is far more true than any kind of journalism, and I say that truth of that caliber is not often spoken. I love fiction; both reading it and writing it. But I have no end of scorn for those who present it as literal truth.
Forty-two
This one is a bit esoteric (who would ever guess that such a thing would come from me) and as such I find it hard to explain without disseminating the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. If you've read it and have any great need to hear why I find it particularly important beyond a mere reference to a brilliant work of fiction and satire, then only say the word. Otherwise I humbly suggest you read it
Fear and Loathing
This one also requires an explanation. You may be aware that the term was popularized by Hunter S Thompson, specifically in his titles. And while I suppose to fully understand what the Good Doctor meant by it would require a time machine and some chemicals, It has come to convey the air of disgust and disillusionment borne of democracy, and indeed, society, gone awry. It's the anguish of the thinking populace that discovers that the men and women paid to serve them have betrayed their interests. And moreover, it's the vigilance and determination to expose and eliminate the ugliness in our culture.
Food
Love it. Love cooking it, love eating it, love exploring new sorts of it. When the sustenance required to continue living can be a form of artistic expression, when it can be a means to bring people together... then the lives it sustains can only be enriched.
Family
Genetically speaking I come from a huge one, but I consider it to go beyond that entirely. I have only two siblings but I consider many to be my brothers (yes, sisters too but I just didn't want to say "brothers and sisters" because that sounds sort of cliche and lame).
Freedom
Not to be diluted, abridged, or restricted, save for respect to the rights of others. Anything less is an unworthy compromise and a great heresy against human nature. It's a simple idea, but to fully embrace it and all it entails can be a challenge for some.
And I do believe that's it. Hope I didn't miss anything.
This post, to restate the apparent, has been brought to you by the letter F. Thanks again to Anna. Anyone wishing a tag can have one if they ask. I'm hoping that the thing I was trying to write last night returns...
4.02.2007
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