This is Merely the Blog of Arthur Mundane

We're back, and changing things up

2007-08-29T14:35:00.001-07:00

People often ask me where I find the crazy things from the Internet that I post or send on all the time. The answer is simple. I found them on the Internet. One of the great things about the Internet is that it makes it fairly easy to disseminate information to large numbers of people. Chances are that I didn't get something from the source, but from a link posted on a webcomic, message board, or blog that I frequent. So read blogs and join message boards, I guess. Except don't join message boards.

Anyway, I've been thinking for some time of using this blog as a place to share not only the strange and wonderful things that I find from time to time, but also the places and people that I regularly read and enjoy. I'll be talking about why I like them, of course, and maybe also pontificating about why I embrace the Internet despite being technologically semi-literate.

I'll do that shortly, but today, I want to talk about rain.

People often claim to love rainy days, because they are contrary or moody or poets or whatever, and because sunny days are for jerks, but let's face it, we all privately like sunny days, even in Houston, where the sunlight adheres to your skin and the heat clings like caustic oil, because sunny days are pretty and sparkling and the people look brighter and more pleasant and less harried. Sunny days are better than rainy days, because you can go places and do things with people. Rainy days are for brooding introspection. Some people stand on top of things in the rain and scream dramatically, but I prefer to do my top-of-the-bus screaming when pollutants aren't soaking into my face, stinging my eyes.

Today, however, was a perfect rainy day. It started storming shortly after I got inside for work, and continued for several hours, pouring and cracking and booming, which I could enjoy from inside, where thunder storms are meant to be enjoyed from. When I left work, it was just sort of a light rain, non-vision obscuring, heavier than a drizzle, maybe, but sparse and easily navigable as if it were only raining because, in Houston, it never stops raining, if it can help it. When I was walking through the parking lot and there were no other people, except for one Muslim girl with an umbrella in the distance, and everything was quiet except for the rain on the cars and on the pavement and the very distant, wet sound of traffic I almost wanted to stop walking and just stand there, foolishly, maybe lifting my face a little and letting the smog-laden drops land on my face like an idiot in an inspirational film. Instead I kept walking, turning my head this way and that like I was looking for something. I imagined a man stepping out from behind a car, and I would stop, and we would watch each other, caught in that moment of dramatic rainfall, not the kind of heavy downpour that heroes and villains fight in, but the subtle, quiet precipitation that necessitates no dialogue and no last minute revelations. The man stepping out from the rain is the revelation. Him seeing me, that's the revelation. And if we fight, it will last seconds, and one of us will fall down and be still and it will take half an hour for him to soak through and for the blood to wash away. But we might not fight. Maybe he's a warning or maybe he's just going to shoot me, and the loudness of that shot would be so much more out of place than the siren I heard in the distance as I walked to my car, looking this way and that, but the shot would be just as poetic, through the contrast, the loudness of the shot and the quiet of my body on the pavement. It was that kind of rain. A rain with possibilities. No man appeared, however. I just drove home.

Now there is a blog. I haven't settled on a schedule for updating this thing. Tomorrow may be too soon, but next week will probably be too late. Sometime before this weekend, perhaps, we will discuss something from the Internet.

Let's Celebrate

2006-11-07T21:42:00.000-08:00

Hello, again. And hurray! Things are fucked, but at least it's the same state of fucked as before. In Texas, anyway.

That's what we want when we vote for a conservative incumbent, isn't it? We want things to stay just the way they are, because a) we're unjustifiably comfortable or b) we're afraid of change. It fucking terrifies us. If we're one of the comfortable ones, we're afraid of upsetting that balance, losing what we have. If we're uncomfortable, we're afraid of things becoming WORSE. People will start marrying horses while gay men abort baby Bibles in front of schoolchildren. It will be chaos.

Still, approximately sixty percent of Texans who voted thought that someone other than Rick Perry should be governing. Fools. Dreamers. Thank God for the sensible ones who opted to be predictably Republican.

In conclusion, things ain't getting better here, but there's little chance of 'em getting worse. Cheers!

A gift, to make up for being away so long

2006-08-05T13:35:00.000-07:00

If you don't think it's amazing, I'm afraid there may be no hope for you.

Corrupt the Youth, crossposted

2006-08-05T13:13:00.000-07:00

Corrupt the Youth

I'm starting this at five minutes to five in the afternoon. I may spend all day writing it, with breaks to eat and work on my Chinese, all the while listening to music. Part of my first paycheck may go to a Polysics album.

I'm here in a spirit of sharing. These videos moved me.

Perversion for Profit
The thirty minute video is cut up into two bits. Then somebody else cut it up even more.

Do you ever feel like we're sliding backward culturally? Like we missed the xenophobic Cold War atmosphere of paranoia so much that we had to create a new one. I'm sure I'm not the first to think so. Probably a pundit somewhere has said so, but what do I care what they think? I don't know them.

I suppose people always have to find something to struggle against, whether it's some form of corruption or entrenched tradition or terrorists and supernatural threats. As if life weren't hard enough without the Devil.

Where was I? I was initially going to write about things that are bothering me, current eventswise. Israel demolishing southern Lebanon, for instance, flattening towns Hezbollah moved out of weeks ago, annihilating roads that were only being used by refugees. Long term strategic plan: leave no place intact in southern Lebanon in which Hezbollah could possibly hide. And the U. S. would look hypocritical to criticize this method, even if we weren't supplying them with bombs, because Israel's rationale for invasion is too similar to our own. And this makes me feel like burning flags.

I suppose there are other things like the fact that I have no faith that the government, or at least this administration, will ever tell me the truth or that they even give a damn about me, for that matter. It is probable that they are abusing their powers in ways that they will never be indicted for, in ways that I may never even completely understand. But anyway, as I said, this is where I began in my thoughts and I'm not feeling equipped to editorialize on current events. Editorials are supposed to propose solutions and I'm not convinced that there are any. This story, most likely, ends in bloodshed and a ball of fire.

I'm thinking more generally.
Comic Arguments

I guess I just feel like I understand less and less the mindset of people who seem to believe that change is inherently bad, that it's favored by anarchists and deviants determined to rock the foundations of traditional society.

Which they are, I mean, that's what anarchists do, but you act like it's such a bad thing. I mean, in a lot of ways, traditional society really sucks.

I'm not into starting revolutions, but I hope one day to be accused of corrupting the youth. The problem with revolutions is that too many people die unnecessarily, just like in counter-revolutions and U.S. covert operations overseas. I think education is a better path to world shaking change. I have dreams of turning wide-eyed Texas teenagers into sarcastic, chain-smoking agnostics. I'd like to turn a vacuous sorority pledge into a girl who causes gasps of shock or outrage at the poetry jam. I'd kind of like to be responsible for some spiritual carnage in this world, and I realize that that may make me a bad person. Fortunately, depending on who you ask, I don't have plans to become a teacher. Well, it's fucked anyway, God help 'em.

Arguably, I haven't said anything at all of substance in this blog. I'm hoping that the next one I write is offensive and meaningful in all the right ways.

I'm out of photos. I have one more, and it's my favorite, so I don't know if I should share it. I'll think about it.

We took some excellent pictures of her in her Audrey Hepburn sunglasses, but she ate them. Because they were just that cute.

It's less meaningful, but it feels good

2006-06-15T18:07:00.000-07:00

Iraqi Screen paints a bleak picture, but not as bleak as some. Most Iraqi perspectives I've seen are pretty depressing; overwhelmingly they are characterized by fear. Not hopelessness, no not that. But definitely fear. I'm starting to believe my friend who says, "There is no good news in Iraq." I don't believe our troops are over there on a mission of mass murder, don't get me wrong. But that doesn't stop Iraqis from sometimes feeling that they have as much to fear from "trigger-happy", "smart"-bomb dropping American troops as they do from roving sectarian death squads.

I remember reading somewhere in Kevin Sites's articles from Afghanistan about a commander in Afghanistan who had also served in Iraq, saying that he in some ways felt that Afghanistan was the real battle. He really felt he was accomplishing something there. I wonder why more Americans didn't think that? I wonder why so many felt that we had to invade Iraq in order to somehow make America more secure?

When has an obsession with "security" ever led to good things?

How many people who complain about only hearing bad news from Iraq actually give a shit about how Iraqis feel? Or how many have been killed because we haven't realized you can't kill "terror" with bombs?

In one of Kevin Sites's articles from Iraq, he quotes a soldier as saying that the war in Iraq won't be won with guns. Well, at least somebody realizes it.

I wonder when we'll get the real story on what's happening at Guantanamo Bay? And how many people will dismiss that story as liberal propaganda? And how many more just won't care?

I'm a little disgusted, but I'm not pessimistic. Pessimists are people who believe that things can't change without becoming worse. Pessimists are conservatives.

Healing Iraq has a whole bunch of links to Iraqi blogs, and a much more moderate tone, if you're interested in that.

I've been updating more personal blogs at this location, also, if you are interested in that.

I'm petered out. What is there to say? This is why I used to not concern myself with the big picture: nobody gives a shit.

Stand Up (Let's Get Murdered) - P.O.S.

Headlines: U.S. Tells Iran to "Suck it"

2006-05-10T10:46:00.000-07:00

I just finished finals, so I'm not really in any mood to rant about this, but I'm going to give it a try. Recently, Iran's President, an archconservative who, arguably, was elected in response to our asshole foreign policy, wrote a letter to President Bush. This if the first correspondence between the U.S.-Iranian Presidencies in twenty-seven years. An unofficial translation may be obtained here. How would our President respond? True to form, his administration dismissed the letter as irrelevant. However, Bush still claims to support a diplomatic solution to Iran's continued pursuit of a nuclear program. Basically, he's saying he'll listen to Iran when Iran says what he wants to hear. Or, as Iranians are coming to understand it, Bush's concept of diplomacy involves Iran unconditionally surrendering to the demands of the West, specifically, the demands of America.

Granted, the letter is quite possibly nothing more than a political maneuver intended to paint the U.S. as the bad guy in this tense situation. However, it seems to me that the only way it could do that is if we rejected it outright. Which we did. Because we're morons.

What would we have lost by responding to this letter? What prevented us from using this as an opportunity to open a direct dialogue with the Iranian President about the nuclear program, besides our President's inability to pronounce the word correctly? And for that matter, why not take the opportunity to answer some of those questions, to address the people of Iran directly? I guess he figures since he doesn't have to answer to the American people anymore, he certainly doesn't have to answer to the people of Iran. I can only imagine that he's equating President Ahmadinejad with Saddam Hussein, which is a terrible mistake. In so many ways.

Anyway, enough for right now. I'm curious about Iran, and thankfully, Yahoo links to a series of articles by a guy who travelled to Iran looking for just the kind of information I most want to know. Kevin Sites in the Hotzone is a series of articles straight out of the conflict zones in the news today: not only Iran, but Haiti, Afghanistan, Chechnya, and so on. His articles on Iran are dated from January of this year, and give you some perspective on life in Iran. The difficulty facing an Irani metal band in a country that bans Western music, for instance, or the steps being taken to combat drug abuse and HIV, which so often go hand in hand. There are some disturbing similarities between our country and Iran when it comes to dealing with HIV. While these articles may or may not shed some light on the current situation or on the President's letter, I found them very interesting. I wish there were more of them.

I guess there's no reason the President should listen to what a hardline religious zealot has to say, but by that reasoning, why should anyone in the world listen to President Bush?

Oh, right. We already have nukes.

It's Moments Like These

2006-05-08T01:15:00.000-07:00

Improv Everywhere infiltrates Best Buy

Extremely excellent. Glorious. Makes me proud to be an American, where national paranoia and uncontrolled consumption of high dollar electronics make events like this possible.

I have some suspicion that my friend Trouble won't like this as much as I do, because she's a conservative, and conservatives don't like people who don't follow the rules, who shake things up for the sake of shaking them up...unless those people are President Bush. Ha! Or, you know, soldiers or cops or whatever. Rumsfeld. People with guns? Seriously though, skip over her politics and read about her personal life. When she goes digging into her past, she comes up with some truly beautiful things, tells some excellent stories, and shows what a remarkable person she really is.

Anyway, that's all I have tonight. I ran out of poetry and my brain is offkilter, scattered and weird. I thought about quoting some of the things I said to people, ideas that were haunting me, divorced from their cerebral context. I decided that I prefered them as they were, free floating, living or dying according to their importance to the listener. Things are more beautiful when they can die. There's a thought for art, religion and relationships.

Goodnight.

To the girl I will never see again

2006-04-26T19:22:00.000-07:00

I often find myself sad
After seeing a stranger,
And thinking to myself,
There goes another person Ill never know.

I cant explain just what it is that attracts me
to a particular person.
It may not be a physical attraction,
though it often is.
Maybe a girl has an interesting haircut
or freckles
or a scarf wrapped around her head
framing a perfect pretty face.
Those are interesting to me, although those qualities
in themselves
arent enough to make me feel like Im losing something,
Something precious.

People I see in passing
may, in fact,
be someone I could talk to,
someone with something to say,
someone worth a damn.
And I know
I know
looks are deceiving
and sometimes I look for the quiet, unobtrusive ones
the ones nobody else looks to for wisdom,
and wonder if they have a quick and ready laugh
nobody has discovered yet.

You see the problem is one of time.
I approach and talk to a man because of the way he walks
or a girl with elegant eyes
or a graceful, regal nose
and maybe we become friends.
Maybe we never speak again.
How well can you really know someone
In the time you have left?

Maybe I am sad because I spend so much time looking
and no one has yet found
me.

Terrible Secrets

2006-04-26T11:46:00.000-07:00

The Ice Age is Now and Forever

True faith, I am convinced,
Happens in a moment,
Like lightning striking
Blue-white out of a tumultuous sky,
Or like madness,
Taking us
In the snap and surrender
Of a world-weary mind.

They are exceptional, the truly faithful.
Like the mad.
Like the sky-struck.

The rest of us, the earnest seekers,
The doubters, the restless spirits,
Ride upon a glacier,
Huddled against the cold.

Some are convinced that we are not, in fact,
Moving at all; others shiver and dream
Of the day when the glacier might rumble
Over the northern cities and into
The sunlit lands.

We are moving and we don’t see it
Or feel it. This
Is not a ship; there is no one
At the wheel. We slip,
Unheeding, over smaller catastrophes.

***
The Terrible Secret
or
I wish I could make you sleep a little less well

Lying awake one night,
Unable to sleep,
I discovered a terrible secret.

And that secret was this:

There is only a certain amount of sleep in the world
And a certain amount of love.
So every time you love someone with all of
Your heart,
Somebody else loves their loved ones
A little less.
But they sleep well,
To make up for your restless nights.

And I fell asleep.

If a man can love a robot, why shouldn't a robot be able to love him back?

2006-04-25T19:48:00.000-07:00

The Perfect Partner
Or
You can’t dance because you are made out of meat.

She likes to waltz
but she can thrash with the best of them.
She is never embarassed
to dance in public
and she never puts a foot wrong.

Any fool can program a robot
that knows how to dance
but she can understand
and appreciate
music.

I have built
the most superb dancer,
the perfect partner.

When I watch her dance
at a club, gliding through the crowd,
shining, brilliant, better than any of those
bumbling meatsacks on the floor,
I start to wonder if it’s possible
to design a robot that could love.

And when I dance with her,
I am perfect. I look into her
eyes, their light reflecting
in the lenses of my glasses
and I realize that anything is possible:

I am a genius.

* * *
He dances
All wrong.

He leads and
I follow,
perfect like
clockwork I
twirl to the
music of
the human
band.

My partner,
creator,
is slower
than I am
and his mo-
tions are lack-
ing in grace.

I wish he
would leave me
so I could
be perfect
dancing by
myself all
alone.

But...poetry?

2006-04-25T19:05:00.000-07:00

"I'm pretty disgusted with both parties right now: the Republicans for what they stand for and the Democrats for what they don't." - Jan Schneider, on The Colbert Report. Sounds about right. Fuck those guys.

Anyway! Poems! Pomes! Let's do it!
*
Water Fountain

I wasn’t expecting much from you.
The kisses of your sisters had been
lukewarm at best and,
sometimes,
bitter.

But when I bent my head to you,
unthinking,
you were sweet
And cold. The taste of you was
perfect.

I drank deeply and was satisfied.
*
Short and to the point? Or does it need something more? Let me know.

Now, a repeat! Revised!
*
Two short poems linked by theme
or
I am a misanthrope in the morning

There are some people who have sacred places
Churches, bedrooms, the desert
At night,
Their cars and their music.

There is no place that is sacred
To me.

I seek refuge opportunistically.
I look for places that are sacred
just for the moment
That I need them.

And the rest of the time,
I just imagine places
That I’d rather be.
---

The most sacred place
To me
Is whatever place
Is farthest away

From you.
*
Might need a little something. Hit me back. I have four more poems to revise for Thursday! And I have to put them in a book! Ahahahahaha, fuck.

The allure of quintessence

2006-04-23T18:25:00.000-07:00

My nostrils burned at the sulfurous stench
of the cavern.
I couldn’t tell if the smell emanated from the chasm below
or from the crooked, smoke-stained pipes
that crowned the professor’s monstrous machine.

Across the gorge, I could see her
capering, frolicking, mad,
delighting in the vast metal engine
which pumped its noxious fumes
into the damp subterranean air.

I could only imagine
what nightmares
drove her to such designs.

“Isabelle!” I shouted. She turned and smiled.
Her android glanced up from its work, but didn’t stop
straightening the twisted wires, its delicate black hands
darting in and out of the sinister engine.

Strands of Isabelle’s hair began to rise into the air
buoyed by esoteric fields of energy
called into being as her mechanical assistant
flipped switches, and pushed buttons
and ran its hands, almost lovingly, over the machine’s
dark surface.

“Come join us,” Isabelle called. She waved toward her machine,
gesturing with obvious pleasure to the almost visible energy
radiating from her creation. I could feel the pull of dark matter,
the draw of cosmic force. I was tempted by the allure of quintessence.

I extended a hand over the gaping chasm and
a blistering cold wind bit into my flesh.
I drew back, as Isabelle beckoned,
her face glowing with light, with heat,
with brilliant energy.

“Come on, Benjamin,” she called.
“We’re creating a new world
where we’ll drink fresh rainwater
and androids will learn how to love;
there will be no more bloodshed
and no one will ever suffer
again.”

I began to hear in the hissing and clanking of the machine
a distinct melody. Isabelle, my Isabelle, swayed, dancing
slowly, with her eyes closed, on the edge of the abyss. I sank
to my knees as the sulfurous cloud above the machine began

To morph
Into something
That almost
Made sense
To me.

I stayed kneeling, on sanctified ground,
as the professor and her marvelous machine
sang and danced
and the colors of a new world
boiled out of the abyss.

Misanthrope poems.

2006-04-21T14:07:00.000-07:00

Two poems today. Twoave'm.
*
Two short poems linked by theme
or
I am a misanthrope in the morning

I don’t have a sacred place.

I seek refuge opportunistically.
I look for places that are sacred
just for the moment
That I need them.

And the rest of the time,
I just imagine places
That I’d rather be.

*
The most sacred place
To me
Is whatever place
Is farthest away
From you.

****
I'm also reposting Poem #4 for your pleasure.
*
Death to Lovers!
Or
Every time two people fall in love, God picks apart a butterfly

Every time I see
A pair of lovers
Walking arm in arm
Or hand in hand,
I steal a child’s balloon
And pop it.

And even if it’s out of my way,
If I see two lovers
Lingering under a street light
Kissing,
I kick a puppy.
Hard.

It’s about balance.

Your arms, entwining each other as,
Eyes half closed,
You sigh each others’ names,
Are the reason
That I’m killing this kitten.

I set the minivan on fire
Because
You actually went down on one knee
To give her the ring
You disgusting creep.

Don’t doubt my commitment
To balance.
…
The smell
Of your hair
Used to destroy me.

And I hope that he’ll realize
As I use this tire iron
To destroy
His knee
That this
Is about
Balance.

***
I'm supposed to revise these, but I really don't know what to change. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

Foreign planets are strange and exciting

2006-04-20T17:51:00.000-07:00

Homesickness

The first thing you notice, Dad,
Is the noise.
When you first hear the
Cars dogs people phones
It’s like a wave
Crashing over you and
You fall to the ground
Gasping
Drowning.

Their food is greasy and indigestible,
But I am becoming fond of cheese.
It reminds me of home.

The smells swell and lift you up
So varied
And so strange.
They make me want to roll around
On the ground, all over,
To cover myself in Earth smells,
But that is frowned upon here.

Humans are pleasant to look at;
They are fuzzy and cute.
But you must never tell them so.

The last thing you notice, Dad,
Is that the stars look very different
From here.
Sometimes I forget where home is
And then it’s like I’m drowning
In luminous green tears.

***
Let me know what you think.

Scout

2006-04-20T14:25:00.000-07:00

This is the only picture I have of Scout. She's the one facing away from the camera. In her old age she spent a lot of time lying down in the sun, and the cats, particularly La Tigra, found that convenient for shade or warmth, depending on the season. Her legs had been failing her more often; sometimes she couldn't stand unassisted. Her eyesight and hearing were going, and my parents think that her mind was going too, but then, Scout was always a little eccentric. I think that with her senses and limbs failing her, she had a tendency to panic more often, that's all.

My parents took Scout to the vet's office to put her down today. As the temperatures started increasing, hitting the hundreds out in the country, where my parents live, Scout was suffering. Yesterday, they tell me, she was so wiped by the heat that she did not move for six hours. This morning they made the decision to have her put down. Temperatures are only going to get hotter, and they didn't want her to suffer through another Texas summer. They didn't think she would survive it. I don't think she would have either.

Now Scout and Max are dead. It's eerie, because I was just thinking of Scout yesterday, and specifically how I didn't want to be there when she died. There was a mote of fear in me whenever I went home and saw her, older, more frail, that she would die while I was with her. I've been afraid of this ever since Max died. I was alone with her when her body started to fail her, and the fear in her eyes...

Max and Scout were puppies together, and now that they are both dead, it's easier to picture that time again, when they were both so small: Max bouncing around with energy, Scout sleeping all the time. Max would lick everyone and everything; she loved everyone. In fact, that's one of the reasons we got Scout: Max wasn't a very effective guard dog. Scout, it turned out, wasn't much better. She was lazy and timid. Max would run up to the gate barking and wagging, Scout would sit back by the house, letting out a high bark every so often, letting her presence be known, but staying where she could retreat to safety if necessary. When she was inside, she would sleep in the strangest positions, on her back and twisted, falling out of chairs, hind end on the sofa and head on the floor. She'd make funny whimpering sounds. We had a German exchange student once who taught her some German.

They were good dogs. I'll miss them.

Poetry later.

For more tears, Google Image search Chocolate Lab and German Shorthaired pointer. I wore myself out just looking at the things.

My decisions really meant something, back then

2006-04-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

A Tale From My Youth

It’s a terrible day.
I am alone, thinking.

It can’t be put off;
They’re waiting, downstairs.
They’re calling my name.

Summoning my resolve,
I march to the top of the stairs,
Look down at my parents, my friends,
Their upturned faces
Looking at me,

“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I’m not turning four today.”

I turn away, go back to my room.
They are confused
But a decision has been made.
I’m not growing up and
I’m missing my party.
I’m not turning four today.

***
This is the poem I wrote at the beginning of the semester, with great reluctance, since I didn't/don't think of myself as a poet. I just wrote this to get a little chuckle, though it's based on a true story. I think it's pretty weak, so I may not include it in my final ten; I can't think of any way to shore it up. But anyway, tell me what you think of this one, and I'll put a better one up tomorrow.

Thanks.

Poetry! This week!

2006-04-19T10:09:00.000-07:00

That last thing I posted, which most people seem to have enjoyed - although one person found it reminiscent of Morrissey - was a poem I wrote for my poetry workshop. I'm not much of a poet, my friends; I work in prose. But I've enjoyed some of the poems I've done this semester and may do more in the future.

I still have three more poems to write - by tomorrow - and then I have to revise ten of them to include in a portfolio for the end of the semester. To that end, I'm planning to revise and post my poems, one at a time, on this blog, to get feedback from folks. If you have editorial or stylistic suggestions, please post them. If you just want to say that my poem is awesome, or that it sucks, feel free. If you just want to say that poetry sucks in general, you may do so, but I expect you to elaborate and cite your sources.

First poem will go up later today.

Every time two people fall in love, God picks apart a butterfly

2006-03-08T09:39:00.000-08:00

Death to Lovers!

Every time I see
A pair of lovers
Walking arm in arm
Or hand in hand,
I steal a child’s balloon
And pop it.

And even if it’s out of my way,
If I see two lovers
Lingering under a street light
Kissing,
I kick a puppy.
Hard.

It’s about balance.

Your arms, entwining each other as,
Eyes half closed,
You sigh each others’ names,
Are the reason
That I’m killing
This kitten.

I set the minivan on fire
Because
You actually went down on one knee
To give her the ring
You disgusting creep.

Don’t doubt my commitment
To balance.
…
The smell
Of your hair
Used to destroy me.

And I hope that he’ll realize
As I use this tire iron
To destroy
His knee
That this
Is about
Balance.

I ain't even gonna say it

2006-02-11T00:15:00.000-08:00

But Jeff Rowland understands.

Have a nice weekend.

All my ideas for a title were variations on "Shake that ass"

2006-02-07T19:21:00.000-08:00

First, a cause to support! Biggest Webcomics Loser is a site put together by Philippe Gaboury. Well, I think Brandon Lewis did the coding, but the project is really Gaboury's baby. These cartoonists are determined to lose weight while simultaneously saving the world's children. You could do worse than to give them your money. Seriously.

Alright, now my notorious neo-con friend Trouble has a habit of posting some songs she's listening to on a particular day. I almost universally revile her music. This may be because I'm a hateful person. But anyway, I'm going to do something similar and plug Best of Bootie 2005, which I am listening to AS I TYPE. CRAZY. It's a mashup CD, a bunch of mixed tracks mashing together the stylings of, say, the Ying Yang Twins and the Cure or Billy Joel and Jay-Z. It's pretty fucking great. Don't play it over the speakers at work or around your kids unless you want them learning some new words, but definitely give it a listen. I'm particularly fond of the last track, "Smells like Compton" (N.W.A. vs Nirvana). So good.

You know, that's all I'm going to say today. I had some personal stuff to talk about , but I'm not going to do it right now. Not right now.

Hourly Comic Day!

2006-02-03T10:07:00.000-08:00

You missed it, it was the 1st of February. However, you can see what I and others have done at the Hourly Comic Forum. People have done some neat things there; there are dozens of good comics.

This was all instigated by John Campbell who made a comic every hour for the entire month of January. He is an Internet hero.

Also, Alan Greenspan retired yesterday, which means we should all start burying our money in glass jars in the back yard.

You can see a touching tribute to him on the Daily Show website.

I may end up posting my hourly comic here, but I don't feel like it right now.

The Internet never forgets

2006-01-30T18:05:00.000-08:00

The Internet knows where you live. The Internet keeps in touch with Wil Wheaton and knows what kind of porn the Encyclopedia Britanicca kid likes. The Internet can tell you what Kirk Cameron has been doing lately. The Internet knew you before you were famous, before you got your teeth fixed, and before you came out of the closet. The Internet knows just how wide it is; the Internet understands how to love a dolphin. The Internet knows what you've been saying is wrong, and why. The Internet has its own customs. The Internet has songs based on lines from Robocop. The Internet has everything.

Repect the Internet, because the Internet never forgets the stupid shit you say.

The Axe Effect

2006-01-23T14:51:00.000-08:00

The Axe Effect

I reckon it speaks for itself.

I want to say there's another product that takes advantage of that dysfunctional dream men have of being sexually irrisistable. I mean, besides cars. I can't think what it is. Although there is that hair dye commercial where the girl disrespects the guy for having a gray beard but once he dyes it brown she pounces on him like a puma. Sigh.

It's not beer. Beer targets men, but it's message is mostly "Drinking beer makes you amiable and fun to be around" or more specifically "Drinking our beer makes you amiable and fun to be around, and not a pussy like the guys who drink other brands".

Advertising is terrible, but you know, advertisers don't set social trends. They merely read and reflect them. So if commercials, particularly the ones targetting men, tend to be at least subtly misogynistic, it's because there's a substantial population of consumers who buy that way of thinking, however subconsciously. That's why there aren't many people who openly identify as feminist these days.

Maybe this is why I don't have many male friends. Hoom.

I'm totally not in the right frame of mind to read James Bond now. So it's either do Chinese homework, write, or start reading A Passage to India. Anyway, that's all for now.

Three things before bed

2006-01-16T22:07:00.000-08:00

I went and saw Basquiat at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts tonight. I'd seen it before, years ago, but it was great to see it again. It's such a strange and wonderful movie, bunch of great performances, particularly David Bowie as Andy Warhol. It left me feeling just a little breathless.

Tonight it occurred to me that the reason conservatives want to block gay marriage is because they want to remain able to regard homosexuals as promiscuous deviants. It has nothing to do with protecting society or the institution or marriage or the children, and everything to do with a selfish desire to insulate their own prejudices. LAME.

Finally, I mentioned a long time ago that I might post a fragment of something I'd written, so I'd like to make good. This is from a finished work, and is my intellectual property, so no stealing my nightmare creature and claiming it as your own. Ahem.

"As they regarded each other silently, a shadow approached from her right. It was a ragged, gaping wound of black, into which the feeble light of the moon could not penetrate. Saul could feel the shadows heat and its black edges thrashed to the sound of crackling flames. The shadow moved with a peculiar grace that was more sensed than seen. In the same way, Saul could feel the presence of the prowling predatory shape within the pitch black flames. Even when the shadow stopped beside the winged woman, he could still feel it moving within the darkness. It was like a tiger or a wolf, pacing back and forth, restless in its prison. Occasionally the utter darkness was broken by a flash of copper and blazing red; Saul knew it was the eyes of the beast. When they settled on him, and he could hear the hot ragged breath beneath the crackling fire, a chill of fear touched his heart. He set his jaw and swallowed. The specks of silver light still floating in the air touched the writhing, eager edges of the shadow and were consumed. "

Comments and critique welcome, but it's just an excerpt, so don't feel obligated.
Now I'm going to bed.

What day is this?

2006-01-16T11:44:00.000-08:00

I don't know what happened to the last two weeks. They weren't bad, or uneventful, but they lacked a certain something. Or maybe I was just busy.

I've been pretty good about writing every day, except for the last three days. Yeah. Things happened, or I let them happen, and I didn't write. I thought about many things that were not writing. I even played some Star Wars Battlefront, which is pretty counterproductive. I did have some creative moments, epic storylines sprouting in my head, but they were mostly for roleplaying games, which I don't necessarily count. I may rationalize it as imaginative exercise.

Classes start tomorrow. I somehow organized things so that my "fun" classes - Chinese Culture through Film and Beginning Creative Writing: Poetry - are on the same days, Tuesday and Thursday. My working classes, Logic and Chinese, are on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Well. Great. But really I'm looking forward to this, even though this is the semester during which I have to find a job to help pay for all this shit.

Anyway, I'm going to go back to reading this book, an old paperback a friend left me when he went to China.

Happy New Year

2006-01-01T12:58:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone. Hello New Year. I kind of went into an internet blackout for the holidays, since my dad is especially paranoid about internet security, and my mom's laptop does funny things. Also I just didn't feel like it. I needed a break, from everything. Now I'm back in Houston and feeling much better, except for having eaten some pop tarts and chocolate cherry cordials for breakfast at two in the afternoon. I've just finished microwaving some black eyed peas to bring in the New Year right. One moment.

...
Ooh, gotta let them cool. Anyway, I don't really put a lot of faith in the tradition of New Year's resolutions, but I've made one this year. I'm going to write every day. To the best of my ability. This is something I should have been doing for years, but, you know, depression, stupidity, etc. So I'm going to do my best to write every day. I'm going to work at it, and if I miss a day, for whatever reason, I'm going to work doubly hard to get back to work the next day. So that's my resolution.

Also, I plan to get into shape. Whatever.

Happy New Year, everybody.

Mmm, black eyed peas. Mleh.

A correction on behalf of major news agencies

2005-12-22T07:15:00.000-08:00

Sunnis and Shi'ites are not ethnic groups. What we have in Iraq is not ethnic strife, unless the term is used to describe conflict between Kurds and Iraqi Arabs. Sunni and Shi'ite refer to different interpretations of Islam, or mostly...well, read the Wikipedia entry. On top of that, the tensions between Sunnis and Shi'ites in Iraq are more political than religiously based.

You might also be interested to know that Iraq is in the minority as a majority Shi'ite state. Most majority Muslim states have a Sunni majority.

Also, Iranians are not Arabs.

I hope this was educational.

The Holidays

2005-12-19T17:02:00.000-08:00

Just a brief post to let you all know that I'm at my parents' home south of San Antonio for the next two weeks. Posts will be sporadic, if I in fact post at all.

So. Happy Holidays.

A Chili Primer for the Uninformed, by Dale Graham

2005-12-15T15:04:00.000-08:00

My good friend Trouble's slander against mesquite in her Barbecue Rant
inspired me to share her views with a good friend of mine who is given to a love of well-prepared food. Trouble's inability to appreciate good barbecue aside, her rant inspired my friend to write his own piece, in this case on the proper preparation of chili. Any textual errors should be attributed to the man's fiery passion for fine chili, or to my sloppy editing. Enjoy.

-------------
Chili: A primer for the uninformed by Dale Graham

What is chili? If you ask someone from Ohio, you will discover that it is some sort of mysterious non-spicy stew served over spaghetti, containing beans, and assorted other things. New Mexicans will tell you that it isn't chili, its CHILE, to stress their regional boner for some of the only worthwhile plants that grow in their state (They do have some mesquite, though, and that has to count for something!). This guy I know from Florida said something about olives and mushrooms before I fazed him out completely in a mental lockdown to prevent murderous rage. All of these things and more are called chili. Commercial brands have brought a degree of unilateralism to it, and most people around the country enjoy beans with theirs. This article is to express just how misguided they are.

To be perfectly fair, I am from Texas, and many folks who are not from Texas find our dedication to what we believe to be the purest form of chili somewhat abrasive and daunting. This does not mean that we are not also right, but please read on before you decide I am a pompous ass. Within is contained the reason for this almost slavish dedication, and if one were to comprehend it, a chili-related nirvana might be reached.

Beans. This is probably the biggest bone of contention between Texans and just about everyone else about chili. The reason for this is that when others consume it, they desire a starch to cut the acidic spice of the chili. They reason that a natural option to do this is by placing one directly into the chili itself. While this may make external sense, it is important to understand that when you are sitting down to eat a bowl of something thats primary flavors consist of meat and a fruit that most people would not consider eating whole outside of a prepared dish for fear of the nuclear destruction of their mouth, that flavor is the reason for doing so. You are not eating a bowl of chili because you want rosy fresh breath or comfort. You are eating something deliberately more spicy than most other foods because it tastes good. This may seem obvious, but bear with me. If the objective is for the meal to taste good, then it makes sense that all the parts of it should contribute to flavor. However, when you put beans in chili, they just sort of taste like everything else. And in Texas we take our beans very seriously. Ask Mundane's dad, he makes a killer pot of them, I am told.

So we like beans, and we like chili. We even like beans and chili together! But that is no excuse for being lazy. Cook your chili, it will taste like chili, cook your beans and they will taste like beans. Eat them together and it will taste like chili and beans. Cook your beans in the chili and it will taste like chili and some mushy parts. You miss out on a whole world of flavor!

Now that we've talked about beans, lets talk about some other things people argue about for chili. Number 1: tomato sauce!

Tomato sauce is one of those things that a lot of purists despise because they see it as being lazy. Tomato sauce adds both liquid and body to the stew at once, which makes it a popular enriching agent in many places, even in Texas amongst cooks who are not hardcore purists. The problem with using tomato sauce in chili is that if you underseason it, it tends to taste like a failed Italian sauce or something, and that when you do season it properly, it doesn't actually convey the tomato flavor, so it's kind of moot. I used to use it, but have discovered a method of achieving the same end that is both more traditional and more flavorful. Puree some reconstituted chiles with a couple cups of hot water and use that as liquid instead. By the time you are finished cooking the pot, the seeds will be softened to the point of unnoticeability, and it will add a robustness and a depth of flavor that you can't really achieve with chili powders alone.

Number 2: Coffee!
This is the ingredient that some argue makes for a bowl of red-eye. Coffee does not actually make the chili taste like coffee, as long as you don't stir in more coffee than anything else, but what it does do is give it a deeper flavor, and a more robust body that accepts the chile seasonings and makes them blend better for a smoother and more sophisticated flavor. Texas chili isn't really lauded for being subtle, but this is one of those things that makes the flavor enriched without being complicated. If you don't have a good ol' fashioned percolator, I recommend cheating and using a couple of tablespoons of instant coffee crystals. It lets you use my chile puree trick without using too much liquid, allowing for an easier time packing in flavors.

Number 3: Beer!
Beer is kind of funny with chili. A lot of people use it, mostly as an excuse to bring home a six pack and drink the rest. Beer isn't really a part of traditional Texas chili (Cowboy style! Which incidentally pretty much just consists of beef, water and spices and cooks for a long time until it reduces and incorporates). This is one of those points where I kind of take my own bent with an ingredient. I use beer in my chili, but not for the usual reasons. And moreover I prefer a dark red ale, rather than any of the usuals. See, I use a secret ingredient that isn't so secret. When I finish browning the meat, I'll put a shot of Frank's Red Hot hot sauce on it and stir it in, letting it sear on a little bit to add some more flavor and zing without directly adding vinegar to my pot. Once this is done, pouring on a bottle of beer (I recommend Red Hook, or if you can't get it, Lawson's Creek or Killian's, but whatever you have should work OK,) darker adding a little more flavor overall, though most of it will cook off, leaving just enough to add a bit of depth to the flavor of the pot. This effectively can act ad a deglazing of sorts, and paves the way for the rest of the liquid, and does a pretty good job of helping to break down the coarser grinds and tougher cuts of meat.

Number 4: Chocolate
I hear some people do this. It kind of makes me squeamish, and I don't want my ancestors to murder me in my sleep, so I'm not gonna try this to find out if it's any good or not.

Number 5: Liquid
If you want to make a straight up traditional bowl of Texas red, you can't use anything but water, but if you are willing to diverge a little bit, there are a variety of chef-grade kitchen stocks and bases, that will add some flavor to your chili without being too obvious. Beef broth may seem the clear choice but it tends to add a bit too much of a metallic taste, so my preference lies with a bout a cup of water mixed with some chicken Better than Bouillon, available from most grocery chains. It doesn't overpower any of the flavors, but it adds a nice certain something.

Number 6: THE GOOD STUFF
This is the spices. There are folks who swear by any number of different exotic chiles, or blend their own powders, but honestly, if you are going for flavor over heat, you can't go wrong with the Ancho chile pepper. Generally sold in dried form, these peppers are not all that hot, but they have a bold and tasty flavor that can make a hot but less flavorful pot of chili into something so much better. I recommend reconstituting these and pureeing them, rather than using their powdered form. New Mexico chiles are also quite tasty, and A'rbol can make a good element if used sparingly. The chili will only ever be as hot as its hottest spice, so choose what that will be, to regulate your heat level, and then work down the heat ladder and add liberally to round out your flavor. Despite the general rule that a whole pepper is more flavorful than a powder, Gebhardt makes a DAMN fine product in their chili powder, and you can use that in a pinch, or if you're like me, add some to round out a pot using whole chiles. Other spices that go into chili tend to be cumin used in the preparation of the meat, maybe a pinch of jalapeno, salt, pepper, garlic, onion, that sort of thing. I generally disapprove of cinnamon and brown sugar going into the pot, but if you REALLY must sweeten it up, I recommend a few drops of cider vinegar instead.

Number 7: The Pot Thickens
This is kind of a small thing, but it can be contended that the only way to really thicken a chili (and if yours is really soupy or liquidy I think it's wrong!) is to let it cook for a long time with enough evaporation to let it thicken on its own, intensifying the flavors you have already put in by concentrating them. Sometimes you just don't have that kind of time, and that is why the Good Lord gave us Masa Harina. This is NOT like regular corn meal or starch. It has qualities for both, and if you live in the southwest, you can probably buy a 5 pound bag of it for like a buck at either a chain grocery store (HEB carries a store brand that works admirably) or a Mexican grocery. A few tablespoons of this added to a simmering pot toward the end and left uncovered for a few minutes will thicken that baby just right and even add a little bit of flavor. And as we know, chili is all about flavor.

Number 8: Where's the Beef?
We're talking about Texas chili, and that means we're talking about BEEF. Specifically Chuck. Specifically ¼ inch cubed chuck roast. This is kind of expensive to buy pre-cubed to spec, and a pain in the ass to do yourself if you aren't prepping the day before, so the stores have discovered the beauty of the coarse “chili” grind. It's pretty cheap, usually about two bucks a pound, and has a much heartier consistency than most ground meat you buy at the store, which tends to act kind of like mush. If you want to be pure, that's where you go, but if you want a little something extra and aren't taking this to a competition, try making about ¼ of your meat content a spicy bulk sausage instead. The pork is pretty close to indistinguishable from beef once it's been cooking for a while, and consolidated porkfat picks up flavor like you wouldn't believe. You could also just pour in some bacon grease, but this lets it incorporate better once you skim the top of the pot (which you should. This is hearty fare, but there's no point in BEGGING for a heart attack).

Number 9: Bring some friends!
How do you serve chili? In a big bowl. What do you serve it with? Well that's a little more complicated. If you want some straight up old school cowboy shit, get some beans (and any time I talk about beans in this article, I'm talking about pinto beans) and some unsweetened iron skillet cornbread. If you like a little cajun flair, I've picked up putting a bed of rice in the bottom of the bowl. Chopped raw onions go on top, and if you must have cheese, most people won't be too offended. Sometimes some buttermilk biscuits hit the spot, or even the occasional oyster cracker. Garnish liberally with a bottle of your favorite brew, a napkin and a spoon and you're good to go!

Here's a recipe for a pot of chili that is believed to inspire heroism, it's a little bit non-traditional but it's still a good bowl of Texas chili, and sometimes it's good to be flexible.

Big D's Bowl of Texas Red.
(Serves 5 hungry dudes or 10 lesser men)
4 lbs coarse 'chili' ground chuck
1 lb spicy sausage (I like Jimmy Dean)
5 tbsp Cumin
¼ cup Frank's Red Hot
1 cup chicken base
3 large Ancho peppers, reconstituted
2 cups hot water
2 bottles Red Hook Ale
¼ cup Gebhardt Chili Powder
1 tbsp Fajita Seasoning
Salt to taste (Always use Kosher)
Fresh ground black pepper to taste
3 tbsp instant espresso
4 tbsp Masa Harina

I like to use a large dutch oven for the chili, and usually start browning the meat double burner with a cast iron skillet and the dutch oven. Add a tablespoon of cumin to each pound of meat as it browns, drain fat and once all is browned, consolidate in the dutch oven, turning heat to high. When meat gets a slight sear, add Frank's Red Hot, and incorporate. Add one bottle of beer and simmer for 10 minutes. Puree peppers (remove stem) with 2 cups hot water and add, bring back to a boil and add Gebhardt chili powder, espresso, chicken base, salt, pepper, and fajita seasoning. Lower to a strong simmer, covered, for an hour and a half to two hours. Remove lid, stir in masa harina, simmer 15 minutes, and serve. Crack open second bottle of ale, toss in some Texas style buttermilk biscuits and you have yourself a meal.

This recipe is believed to have assisted Robert “Mad Dog” Boyd in fighting crime, and so I commend it to you with the hope that your bellies may be pleased and your communities safer.

Thank you, and good night.
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Gotta get out of this town

2005-12-14T20:59:00.000-08:00

Man, I need to pack up and get out of this city for a while. I'm sinking into some kind of emotional slime, and a change of scene would be good. Also, there will be dogs and cats! Heehee, dogs and kats, yay!

*hem* Uh, in other news, it is once again Haiku Wednesday, as celebrated at Trouble's blog. I almost missed it, consumed as I was today with driving the Egyptians out of Eastern Europe. One of the reasons I need to get out of this place is because I will be able to play exactly ZERO computer games over the holidays. I don't know if I've said it before, but I may have a problem.

...
Feh, I've got no inspiration today. I just spent thirty minutes trying to describe a bather in a pond in autumn in five syllables. So, I lose at Haiku Wednesday. Here's a Lore Brand Comic to make up for no poetry.

Sigh.

Richard Pryor

2005-12-10T14:14:00.000-08:00

Richard Pryor is dead. He's been pretty sick for a while, but what a loss. Light a candle, watch his stand up if you can find it, or call somebody a motherfucker. Probably Comedy Central will be running some of his stuff in tribute, so watch that. You should still probably call somebody a motherfucker though.

Later on, Richard.

Just some news bits

2005-12-07T20:59:00.000-08:00

I haven't been keeping up with world events lately, so here are some news bits from other places in the world.

Guatemala

Guatemala searches through the records of the National Police for those who went missing during the civil war.

Egypt

Skirmishes with police during elections leave several people dead. The U.S. is feeling less optimistic about Mubarak's commitment to democratic reform.

Afghanistan

On the bright side, people in Afghanistan are generally optimistic about their future.

Southeast Asia

Myanmar is on everybody's shit list.

Eritrea

Eritrea ejects U.N. Peacekeepers. Is this the beginning of a new Ethiopian-Eritrean war?

I'm writing, damn your eyes. I'm writing.

2005-12-07T11:39:00.000-08:00

Man, I hate sagging pants. I haven't really seen a lot of that since high school, but I saw some guy today, crotch of his drawers down around his knees. Goddamn ridiculous looking. I think that it mostly offends my utilitarian sensibilities with regards to clothes, in addition to looking ridiculous. A lot like women's shoes, actually. Women, you wear some ridiculous shoes! No way are those things comfortable! Knock it off!

As I was walking back to my room today, I saw this neat Hispanic lady who is a member of the custodial staff. Her hair was this excellent silver-streaked color. She tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and turned to glare at the broken concrete for just a moment before walking on. I noticed this because I do the EXACT same thing when that happens to me. Okay, this is kind of boring you, I'm sure, but I was like, "Man, I know how THAT is." I didn't look at her as I walked by, of course. Like I said. I know how it is.

Okay, apparently today is Haiku Wednesday or sommat, so here are some haiku.

Your face, luminous
Shining with Nightingale tears
Drops of bright magic.

Trouble is looking for more of an erotic themed haiku, so let's see what I can do with that.

Beautiful, naked,
Your figure under my hands.
I am a blind man.

Sexy, no? Here's one from a master, in translation:

The petals, one by one
Are scattered, and the frogs look on
But tell their thoughts to none.
by Toga

I think the translator makes a mistake trying to get all these haikus to rhyme, but that one's still pretty good.

Peace.

Well, at least I'm not playing Video Games. That's...that's good right?

2005-12-06T21:58:00.000-08:00

A recent Snopes article. What irritates me is how willing people are to believe rumors like this shit. What do they have to back up their belief? Just the word of an anonymous "mother of an Iraqi Freedom soldier" and, one imagines, a conviction that "furners" are just likely to behave in these wildly irrational ways. After all, they hate freedom, don't they?

Anyway, I'm spending tonight working on a CD for somebody. You know, it's almost the only time I listen to music, when I do these little projects like this. I hear a song and I wonder if she'd like it and I think about other songs I've heard that have made me think of her and then I wind up making one of these mixed CDs, even though I know nothing about music. She seems to like them.

I'm finding it hard to concentrate on my writing, which I more or less abandoned a couple weeks ago in the middle of November. I've knocked most of the difficult stuff out of the box for this semester, but I still have my Chinese final exam on Friday, and a rewrite due for my literature class. The big difficulty with the rewrite is that the paper I need to rewrite is pretty hard to revise. I mean, really, there are so few corrective marks on it that I'm a little leery of altering it. Yeah, I know, what a thing to whine about. Shut up, it's hard.

I think...yeah, I think I may compose little stories/poems for my immediate family for Christmas. Oh don't worry, they don't read this blog, it won't ruin the surprise. What? That's not what you're worried about? I'm cheap? No, fool, I'm poor. I'm supported almost entirely by other people's money. I am a tottering financial ruin. I think my only contribution in the past few months has been eight dollars I got from selling a Playstation game on Amazon.com, and I probably spent that on peanut butter cookies at Subway. Trust me, they'll appreciate the writing projects. Well, my cousin might not, but he's a teenager, they don't appreciate anything.

I've sworn off video games for the week, so I may just get a few things done. Oh wait. The Internet.

Shit.

Novel news

2005-11-29T18:10:00.000-08:00

So the news on my November novel is that...there is no November novel. I crapped out of that about a week ago and haven't written anything since. I made a poor showing this month, that's for sure. As for what I wrote, it needs more than a little work, and I'd probably just as soon work on something else. I'm going to finish a short story I've had waiting around for a while, then see what happens.

I've finished all my reading for the semester, so I read a story out of my Mammoth Book of Pulp Fiction. "Preview of Murder" by Robert Leslie Bellem. It was published in 1949 and it's full of all this wonderful period slang. Guns are "roscoes", "rods", "cannons", or my favorite, "gats". Women are dames, guys are bozos, eyes are peepers. Nick Ransom never sees someone, he lamps them or tabs them. The story is peppered with these things; it's brilliant. It's hard to find those choice quotes that almost made me laugh out loud, but here're two just to give you an idea:

"I dredged out a gasper, set fire to it. The smoke burned my gullet like acid..."

"As it was, I had a lump on top of my conk the size of second base and I was lying on the floor, sniffing the dust of the thin carpet and looking into a pair of cold-cod-fish glims belonging to sombody sprawled a couple of feet ferninst me. I didn't mind the character being so close, but that steady mackerel focus gave me the fantods."

God this is great stuff.

A eulogy

2005-11-18T21:21:00.000-08:00

So.

Weeks ago, two of my family’s dogs, Jerry and Badger, got out of the yard and ran away. My mom suspected that someone saw Badger on the side of the road and stole her, because she was friendly, still a puppy, and a pure chocolate lab. Jerry, on the other hand, was a mongrel. Badger was a new dog, so her loss hurt less. But Jerry was part of the family. Even after weeks, we held out hope that he would come home.

This evening my mother called me with sad news. She found Jerry.

She found him on the side of the road while she was driving to work in the morning. He was dead. His collar was missing, but my mom is sure that it was him. He was twenty-five miles from home.

Every day since he went missing, my mom said, she hoped that she would see him when she came home. It was easy to imagine him just turning up, running along side the car as it drove up. Jerry was my mom’s guardian; it was his German Shephard blood. He would follow her everywhere, in the fields, in the yard, wherever. When he slept at night, he slept in the hall outside my parents’ bedroom door. He was affectionate and loyal, yet terrifying to strangers. He was a natural.

Jake and Jerry are the two yellow dogs in the picture. Jerry is – was – the big one. They were the youngest two, and so they became best friends. It wasn’t easy. Jerry was naturally ebullient and excitable, whereas Jake is moody, jealous of affection, and prone to bouts of melancholy. While Jerry challenges young bull calves over the back fence, Jake lies curled up in the shade, looking sad. Whenever the two managed to escape their backyard confines, however, they would be off, immediately, down the road or into the bush, in search of adventure. Frequently I would have to chase after them, shouting vainly for them to stop, to come back, to cease what they no doubt thought was a hilarious assault on the neighbor’s miniature terriers. I would get hot, tired, and mad, but they always came back, eventually. And we would scold them, cuss them out, and forgive them. They were just fun-lovin’ boys having a good time.

When my brother, Jake’s owner, left for school, Jake was sad, but he still had Jerry to wrestle with in the yard and to lie with in the sun. In the old days, before Jerry, Scout was his adventure companion, but Scout is now old, feeble, slightly senile. And now Jerry is gone. It’s just Jake, Scout, and the cats. I don’t know how much Jake knows, or how much it even matters to him, being a dog, but it hurts me to know that his best friend isn’t coming home. It hurts me to know that Jerry isn’t coming home.

Of the dogs in the picture, two are now dead. Max, the brown dog curled up by my side, died at home this past summer. She was old, and her death is another story in itself. We buried her in the front yard, under stones so that the stray dogs and coyotes wouldn’t molest her remains. It is sad to me that Jerry won’t die at home, with white on his muzzle. But in a way, it’s proper, and comforting to me, that he died on the road. He died in his prime, on a grand adventure. It’s foolish to romanticize animals with human qualities, but allow me to imagine that his last thoughts were of home, and of the people who loved him, and of his friend Jake. I’ll thank you to let me imagine these things.

Goodbye, Jerry.

Progress Report

2005-11-18T14:25:00.000-08:00

The novel is going badly, and I am feeling discouraged. Tonight is the night for grim determination, however, as I drive to catch up by some 12,000 words by the end of the weekend. And that's just to meet my end of the month 50,000 word deadline. I've hit some rough spots, spots that bored the hell out of me, and I've realized that my story as it stands right now would never make a novel. It needs more planning out, more thinking through, before it can be a coherent story, with a beginning and an end. That's not what NaNoWriMo is about, however. It's about plowing through. So I'm going to do that, at least until the end of November. Then maybe I'll work on something else. Something better.

Also, I haven't shaved in days. It's itchy.

Talk about the weather, talk about the war

2005-11-15T15:59:00.000-08:00

Today was beautiful. We had our first real autumn sky, cloudy but light, neither too bright nor too dreary. Even after it started to rain intermitently I stayed outside, because it was just too pretty, and I had nothing else to do. People act so funny when it's threatening rain. Some of them, like myself, grow quiet and introspective, not hurrying anywhere, just enjoying those tense moments. Some people get impatient and grumbly, and complain bitterly about the weather not making any sense. And some people, my favorites, I think, are thrilled by the anxiety of it and laugh and scream because their day has been broken up by the weather.

I was kind of hoping I would run into some people I knew who wanted to sit around and talk, but everyone was sheltering from the rain or trying to make it to their cars or classes.

I wish I had pictures of the sky just before it really darkened up and rained.

My good pal, Dubious Wonder, a Republican in denial, had some political things to say today, and whenever she does that I get all stirred up and want to talk politics. Unfortunately, she never seems to want to talk politics when I want to talk politics, so I'm just gonna ramble on by myself.

I can't argue with her about the courageousness of American soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. I think most or many of them believe in what they are doing, and believe that they are bringing democracy to a country that hasn't really seen it in a long while, if ever. I hope they are right. I would, however, feel better about it if President Bush would admit that this was his goal all along. Nukes or no nukes, I think he was going in there. Bush is making the same mistake that Presidents Johnson and Nixon did, which is that he is being overly secretive and possibly outright dishonest with the American people. He shouldn't be surprised when his political opponents and the American people accuse him of lying or otherwise twisting the truth.

And please, no more of this "undermining the President" nonsense. When the President does wrong, you tell him so. You write to your Congressional representative, you publish your thoughts in a blog or an editorial, but you don't just shut up and support him whatever he does, war or no war. That's nonsense.

The anti-war protesters tend to be more extreme left wing than most critics of President Bush and/or the war in Iraq. I think neither the Bush supporters nor the war protesters know enough about the complexities at work in Iraq right now, and I think many of them, having formed their opinions, don't care to know more.

I'm going to go read for a while and then write for the rest of the night. I forgot how much I hate talking about politics. All it ever does is sour my mood.

Oh what the hell now

2005-11-08T20:15:00.000-08:00

So Texas just joined the list of states who are so terrified of "judicial activism" that they've added a constitutional amendment to ban marriage between two people of the same sex. Blah, blah, blah, American values, blah blah blah, national security, blah blah blah, ban something that was already illegal. We've got one of the shittiest academic records in the U.S., but thank God, at least we've taken the time to outlaw something that was really no threat to anybody at all.

Why is it that conservatives behave so short-sightedly, so stupidly? I don't care how mad the hippies make you, that's no excuse to behave like paranoid, ignorant, xenophobic jackasses!

Fuck.

Okay, end rant. Only Kinky can save us now.

It feels like after midnight

2005-11-02T20:05:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting in the light of my desk lamp, with headphones on, but I'm not listening to music. I have a seven page paper due at one o'clock tomorrow afteroon; I have written three sentences. I still haven't started looking for a job in earnest. However, I wanted you to know that I started my novel yesterday evening, and even if it's all crap and I have to scrap the whole first chapter later, I'm feeling, in general, pretty good about life.

I hope this doesn't mean that something terrible is about to happen.

Shout out to Dubious Wonder. She's getting to be a pretty good writer, in my humble opinion.

Peace.

The Way things are Today

2005-10-31T07:44:00.000-08:00

I'm convinced that this is about our current political situation (in America), but it is adaptable to other situations as well, I think.

I have "Welcome to the Jungle" by GUNS'N'ROSES stuck in my head. Today will probably be a good day.

Read Achewood. I can't explain it to you.

Thus began November

2005-10-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

This week I have two exams, and a seven page paper due Thursday. Chinese is very time consuming, and I'm considering making it my minor. But the real purpose of this entry is to announce that I'm going to be participating in National Novel Writing Month, which starts Tuesday. 50,000 words in a month. I need a little something extra to get the words flowing again, and I have too much free time on my hands. Of course, I am expected to get a job this month...Anyway, if I don't, and lose my car, that just means more time sitting in my room writing, I figure. And being unable to purchase food will be tough, but hunger sharpens the imagination...or something.

Er, at any rate, I'll be posting bits and pieces of stuff that I write on here, maybe, or at least talking about it.

More on Tuesday, if I live.

Every pagan should have a holiday

2005-10-12T20:17:00.000-07:00

Monday was Columbus Day, apparently. Hurray, Columbus Day! The title of this post is not intended to imply that Christopher Columbus was a pagan; I'm sure I don't know anything about his personal beliefs regarding the worship of terrible gods or the sacrificing of terrible kittens. I just liked the sound of it.

Checking the Yahoo world news

2005-09-11T16:02:00.000-07:00

New old news from North Ireland.

Economic issues seem likely to lead to a conservative change in Germany's government. Good or bad, who can say, but I have misgivings...

Iran rejects threats from the U.S. and Europe regarding its nuclear program. I don't think the U.S. has the moral high ground it thinks it does in this case.

Sept. 11 in Chile.

There's a hunger strike going on at Guantanamo Bay. I'm finding it difficult to get any hard facts on what's going on. The military is force feeding approximately a dozen inmates who haven't eaten in over a month.

Mubarak Re-Elected, U.S. congratulatory. We only topple tyrants who talk shit about us.

Not everything is bad news, I'm sure. There are accusations of forced sterilizations in China, and new anti-terror laws in Australia have some worried that country is going down the road of a police state. On the other hand, Japan's rather awesome looking Prime Minister was reelected. I'm not sure what that means.

Cheers.

And then some things happened

2005-09-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

I'm only really posting to bring you this photo slideshow depicting the hurricane and its aftermath in New Orleans. I think it's worth looking through, as this fellow got some excellent shots.

I keep promising I'll get on here and rant about politics or world news or how I'm coming to the conclusion that the human race is going to self-destruct, but, you know, who has time for that?

Take it easy.

Politics! How wonderful! What on EARTH is that?

2005-08-15T02:30:00.000-07:00

Kinky Friedman for Governor, my friends.

I hated the "Anybody but Bush" campaign, but "Kinky 2006: Why the Hell Not?" appeals to me on a level Puff Daddy likely cannot comprehend. It'd be a hell of a thing.

I suppose I should look into other candidates and issues coming up in that election year, but I'm not sure that it's going to make any difference at all.

Sorry about the lack of updates, dear friend. You've been hard at work and I've been doing nothing at all. I'll try to remedy that in the coming week.

Regards,
Arthur

Today is different from yesterday

2005-07-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

Ah, so. To update things, let us begin with today's Dinosaur Comics. Good stuff.

Now, to the news. I am back in Houston. Things have happened. I visited my parents and Jennifer since my last blog and have moved into the lovely Cougar Place apartments. I've been hanging with the guys (read: not getting anything done)and reading a little bit. Also, I think my room might have an ant problem. Maybe if I vaccuumed. And if the sun stopped shining so danged hard.

Anyhow! I have no more classes this summer at U of H, BUT I do have two correspondence courses that I've had since last October. I'll be finished them up in the next month or two, pass or fail.

That's all I have to say right now. Today was a pretty nice day.

Crazy Utahraptor.

Perhaps there is sense in the universe.

2005-04-20T21:46:00.000-07:00

So, I've been distracted lately. I apologize. I won't go into details. That is what boring people do. Instead I will hint that it had something to do with knives. And laser beams. And the aerial deployment of these and similar objects. And, I don't know, robots?

Anyway:

I am taking Chinese (Mandarin) next semester. Doubts have been expressed, by myself and others. We shall see.

Lore is back. Again. I ain't complaining. He's pretty awesome.

Also you may give this place a listen, if you have such capabilities.

...You didn't even notice I was gone.

Music Appreciation

2005-04-01T22:10:00.000-08:00

You know what the best sound is? A police siren. A moving, echoing police siren, sounding close, while in the foreground there is the sound of outdoor electric guitar.

Man. My friend, that is CINEMATIC. I love living in this city.

Titles are difficult sometimes.

2005-03-27T22:37:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to let you know, by way of example, why I read Penny Arcade.

It's a shame that so much of my brain's energy is devoted to procrastination like this. I don't know why this is so, but if I weren't constantly thinking of irrelevant things like this, I would have finished this paper YESTERDAY.

So much for being Mr. Cynical

2005-03-23T00:43:00.000-08:00

You know, here I was, playing myself off as such a cynical character, and then I make a shattering discovery about myself.

In the course of a discussion, I realized that I still believe in the basic goodness of human nature.

CRAP! I think people try to do the right thing, by themselves, by their family, by their country, by some crazy idea that helps them make sense of the world. I think most people are just trying to DO RIGHT! WHAT? NO! I'm reading World War II history! I'm taking a class in postcolonial literature! People repeatedly, consistently, over and over and over again, dick each other over and brutalize each other for senseless reasons! And yet I'm still an idealist. Still I maintain some shred of optimism about the basic drive and nature of humanity.

I don't know whether to laugh and sing a song or to say to myself "You. Make. Me. SICK."

Sigh. I was so close to pessimism and the cozy bliss of indifference. Oh well.

Superheroes and Dieselsweeties

2005-03-19T00:47:00.000-08:00

JLA: Year One was a good book. It made me feel good about superhero comics. It made me feel good about superhero team comics. Hell, it made me want to found a superhero team and start busting some villainous ass. Maybe if I go stand in a radioactive pool and try to get struck by lightning I'll develop super powers instead of falling down dead.

I'm not too keen on spandex, but perhaps I could work with some leather pants, a la John Crichton from Farscape.

I'd say some clever things about the clickin' dialogue, the smooth writing and pacing, and the silly but well-played supervillain plotholes ("Why did you give them the alien device, Vandal Savage? 50,000 years of life and still the best plan you can come up with is 'trick them into compromising their heroic principles'?") but I'm not very good at writing reviews. Otherwise I'd actually critique webcomics, instead of just linking to them and saying "Dieselsweeties is awesome."

Man, R. Stevens. One thousand, one hundred and eighty-five comics involving poop jokes, gratuitous farting, and robot sex. And I still can't get enough. Plus you have pretty much the best shirts in the world. You deserve a present. Unfortunately, I am poor, so all you get from me are words. You can pretend they are beer, if that is what you are into.

Okay, reader(s). That is all. Go back to work.

It is the subject line of a spam email obliquely referring to penis enlargement

2005-03-06T23:43:00.000-08:00

Spamusement! makes me laugh. It doesn't make everybody laugh. But it makes me laugh. I just wanted you to know that.

The mighty cucumber lives again!

*Snrk* heheheh. Ah...

I have to agree. Dora is indeed a sexy place.

2005-03-06T23:40:00.000-08:00

I just started to get back into the groovin' romantic tension of Questionable Content by J. Jacques. The story kind of lost me for a while, I just wasn't diggin' it as much, but now I'm good. We're down now, J. We's cool.

I was thinking of titling this entry "Indie Rock Romance", but all that did was remind me of this Country Song called "Third Rate Romance." Googling it reveals that it is a song by Sammy Kershaw. I have retrospectively developed an affection for it, in particular because of the music video that used to be attatched to it. There was a time, my friends, when I watched Country Music Television.

Shut up! You don't know me!

Trashy is truer than classy; you know this is true.

Boom!

2005-03-06T23:24:00.000-08:00

Oh Shelley, why do you always have to die?

"We're not sure if he's evil or just unsettling on a genetic level."

2005-02-24T02:59:00.000-08:00

Scary Go Round.

By now I've gone quite insane, and have decided that singing a bit of lyrics from a James Bond movie theme is fitting tribute to John Allison making me grin.

"Nobody does it better
Makes me feel sad for the rest
Nobody does it half as good as you
Baby you're the best"

I'm not sure what it means in this context. It's just what I feel.

God. What time is it?

Oh no!

2005-02-24T02:41:00.000-08:00

If there was one comic strip that I didn't think would ever use ninjas, it was this one.

Way to prove me wrong, Ryan. Well done, sir.

Well done, indeed. *twists mustache and laughs nefariously*

God, what time is it?

Do-weep warble beep-beep! - Book IV of the Holy Chronicles

2005-02-24T02:31:00.000-08:00

R. Stevens had this to say:

"That's when it hit me - the one mythological character I look to for guidance and protection is shaped like a garbage can. He can work miracles, never lets his fear get the better of him and always puts his ego aside to get the job done."

Thus did he make this shirt.

His other shirts are pretty hoss as well. Diesel Sweeties is one of the few webcomics I return to with any kind of consistency.

One of the others is Something Positive. I don't know what R.K. Milholland did to me. I don't even care if he's funny every day anymore, so long as he continues to tell me stories about these people. I mean, I know sometime soon Pepito will do something, or Choochoo bear will devour someone, or some jerk will be sodomized by (barely)intelligent vegetation, but I even considered the idea of going to Kamikazecon just to "Meet a Real, Live S*P Cast Member." Of course I realized that it would be creepy to go to a convention for enthusiasts of a genre I don't give a damn about just to meet a woman I only know as a fictional character and who has no particular reason to want to meet me. That is something that professional killers and less-than-professional stalkers do. Anyway, my point is that even when they are vulgar, violent, and engaged in reprehensible criminal action, I'm interested, and I come back to read about their disastrous lives just about every day.

I'd say more, but I'm not sure what it would mean. I described the shirts as "hoss"? Jeez, what time is it?

His book is called Lockpick Pornography; the cover design is offensive to fans of Sesame Street

2005-02-19T19:22:00.000-08:00

I just want to reiterate: Joey Comeau. A favorite person of mine. You should also check out A Softer World and Overqualified, which you can get to by way of his journal because I am feeling exceptionally lazy right now. Still: Joey Comeau = neat fellow.

I went to lunch at Chili's with a friend of mine on the 14th. We forgot that it was Valentine's Day and that any two people eating together are on a date. I tried to call my girlfriend so I could loudly proclaim my heterosexuality to those who might be in doubt, but she didn't answer.

I really dislike Valentine's Day. I got Jennifer this shirt anyway. She found it offensive, yet comfortable to wear.

Two further items of note: 1) Houston skies, while typically gray, are a pretty rose color at night. b) My internet is disordered.

So long for now.

Having a favorite member of the Wu Tang Clan gets you "mad cred"

2005-02-09T15:05:00.000-08:00

The guys next door listen to a lot of rap music. I've slowly become acclimated to rap music over the years as it has gained popularity. It doesn't inspire the automatic repudiation that it used to evoke in me and which is still invokes in my father. I've actually come to appreciate it as a musical genre, to a certain extent. At the very least I can see the appeal of a distinctly urban street sound. I have no idea what the names of these artists are or the songs. I don't like all of them and there are one or two that grate on my nerves, typically due to the lyrics. I'm not crazy about the lyrics. Gangsta rap in particular seems to glorify misogyny and racism, using a lot of unneccessary obscenities and violent metaphor, trying to evoke the metaphorical ghosts of N.W.A. But I'm not that interested in that aspect of it. I'm not street. I'm not sure I've ever even passed through a ghetto. I've lived mostly in rural areas, no street gangs to be heard of. So the lyrics, to me, are out of context. But even some of the more reprehensible songs are supported by what, to me, sounds like good music. Good rhythms, good beats. Good sound. And the lyrics, no matter how inane, abusive, or vulgar, just coast along on the music. I think that's why I've developed a passing fondness for the artist known as RZA. It's music. Quite clearly and brilliantly music. The lyrical talents of the artists don't always match the...

Well, now they cranked it way up. That's just rude.

He woke up one morning and realized that he had to be at his job at the SPACE STATION

2005-02-08T22:35:00.000-08:00

Right as I go to bed, I'm occasionally struck with brilliant ideas. I'm sure it says something about my psychology that I come up with my best ideas at the precise moment that I'm least willing to sit and write them down. Anyhow, a few nights ago, my brilliant idea was what is sure to be the next movement in avant-garde literature:

Deliberatly bad writing.

Poorly conceived poetry and borderline incoherent short fiction. Writing with a complete disregard for good grammar, proper spelling, or appropriate style. I'm thinking there's something there.

I may give more thoughts on this later. My room mate is watching @#*$ing Access Hollywood or something and my brain power is almost entirely devoted to defending itself from the damaging Stupid rays that the show emits. Right now I'm interested in your thoughts. So

Thoughts?

Always Us and Them

2005-02-07T18:14:00.000-08:00

In a speech to the Atlanta Exposition, Booker T. Washington offered a compromise to the white man. He said, essentially, that the black race made up roughly a third of the population of the South. He also said that the black race was, in general, willing to work and be a productive part of the community. He said, "Nearly sixteen millions of hands will aid you in pulling the load upward, or they will pull against you the load downward. We shall constitue one-third and more of the ignorance and crime of the South, or one-third its intelligence and progress; we shall contribute one-third to the business and industrial prosperity of the South, or we shall prove a veritable body of death, stagnating, depressing, retarding every effort to advance the body politic." He stood there, with his arms outstretched, saying, to paraphrase, "Accept us as brothers and we will prove our worth. Allow us humanity and we will shower you with prosperity and gratitude." He stood there smiling, hopeful, Booker T. Washington, nothing if not an optimist. And the white man, well, as we well know, he gave him a good look right in the eyes and then spit right in his face. So much for optimism.

I mean, he offered a pretty clear choice: years of ever increasing prosperity or years of economic struggle and social unrest. And those ignorant sons of bitches chose struggle and social unrest. We should remember this when white racialists or supremacists talk about black urban violence or the high number of crimes committed by African-Americans. We should remember that Booker T. offered a different option, and the white men of the time threw it back in his face with a big "Fuck You."

Of course, it's possible that Washington's vision would never have worked anyway. Reading History has made me cynical. Oh, so very cynical. Whenever there is a chance for two cultures, two people, two nations to interact and benefit from each other, somebody, some group has to screw everything up and make everything about violence, domination, and slavery. It's damn depressing.

I don't really have an uplifting note with which to end this. In case there are any present who wish to take issue with what I've said, please feel free to do so. I always welcome fresh views. Bear in mind, however, that I am well aware that race is a much more complicated issue than could possibly be hashed out in a single entry in a single blog. Or in any number of blogs, or, maybe, anywhere.

In case that's got you feeling down, like it's got me feeling down, I urge you to go look at a softer world. Myself, I have more history to read. Tralala.

Gah, I look terrible

2005-02-05T21:45:00.000-08:00

Hrruuugh. I just ate a whole pint of coffee ice cream. Before I bought the ice cream, I knew it was a bad idea. I got it anyway and ATE THE ENTIRE THING.

This may have been a mistake.

So while my digestive system panics at this unnecessary and excessive consumption of dairy based dessert, I'm going to write myself a new blog. I'm not sure about what though. I'm kind of in the mood to destroy the world, but I said before that I wouldn't do that. Crushing enemies is okay. But destroying the world just to unburden my sadness? That is for other blogs. And livejournals.

I'm going to try to get a picture soon. Or three. One of them may even have a sword in it; I am a man in need of props. I will probably hold it in a casual and lazy manner, ostensibly to show how cool and indifferent - yet dangerous - I am, but really to avoid demonstrating how completely ignorant I am regarding the weapon's use.

Yes, I did go to a Renaissance Fair once. I still bear the mental scars of its sights and smells. A land entirely filled with verbally abusive folk in ill-fitting "period" costume. Gather the horde, General. Their kind must be purged from the Earth.

On a completely unrelated note, I hate flipflops and if I were a tyrant and a warlord, I would probably condone the practice of slavery. Particularly for people who wear flipflops; they are offensive to me.

Anyway, that's all for now. Tune in next week for the burning of heretics (otherwise known as people who were disagreeable to me) and our annual feature, "Arthur Mundane Gets a Haircut."

It's like a gentle zephyr caressing the surface of a still pond

2005-01-24T10:47:00.000-08:00

The Bjork song lives!

There should be an umlaut in there, but I don't know how to do that. Anyway, Lore is genius.

I should point out that when I started playing the Bjork Song, my suite mates were inspired to drown me out with rap music. Philistines.

I love real headlines that sound as though they were made up

2005-01-20T11:37:00.000-08:00

"President vows to spread liberty around the globe"

A new age of optimism? Perhaps!

Angry feminist be me! Hruuah!

2005-01-19T17:21:00.000-08:00

The following is my response to a question from a friend of mine, thirty-eight years young and just beginning to feel the urge to lie about her age. She likes to come to me with her theological problems. "Why," she asked me, "would a benevolent God cause women to reach their sexual peak FIFTEEN YEARS after men have hit theirs and gone into decline?"

I expressed the opinion that this was likely the result of the biological tendency for men to DIE earlier. So of course the female of the species would need to maintain the desire for breeding and find a new mate, or several. To which she replied:

"So you're saying that women are more likely to cheat?"

And so:

"God, no. Anyone will tell you it's the opposite. Men
are more likely to cheat for two reasons: first,
sexual conquest and potency in men are encouraged in
almost all cultures. The old idea that women are not
supposed to enjoy sex or even care about it is fading
in Western society, but its ghost is still there,
particularly hovering around men, who may feel that
feminism has reversed the sexual situation between the
sexes rather than making it more equitable. In other
words, men may feel themselves to be expected to be
subjected to women's sexuality, rather than the
reverse. The other reason is probably linked to that
same biological function: since we're going to kick
it early, we've got to get humping as soon as possible
to spread our genes around. All I meant was that
women's sexual prime lasts longer, and so they can be
expected to have multiple partners over their
lifetimes. If anything, older women should be more
likely to expect a young lover than older men should.

Which is just another way porn has lied to men."

There. Thoughts have been expressed. Opinions, valid or invalid, have been made public. Now, go thee to read Something Positive, that bastion of dark, angry humor. Unless thee are Grandma. Do not read Something Positive Grandma. You and Papa Baer pray for me enough as it is.

Sometimes I eat TV. It tastes like Salisbury steak. Old, chewy Salisbury steak.

2005-01-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I get interested in some TV shows. I don't even like watching TV. Commercials make me want to shoot the world in the face. Reality TV shows, Surreal Life and Survivor included, make me horribly, horribly disgusted. It is common knowledge that 90% of television is pure crap, mixed and refined to enhance the quality of crapiness to its maximum potential level. And yet...

Aside from watching Sci Fi's various non-Scare Tactics original series, I also watch a bunch of mainstream network shows, when I get the opportunity. My mother and I used to watch Law & Order religiously, every Wednesday. We would shake our heads in admiration of Jack McCoy. She called me the day she heard that Jerry Orbach died. I still watch reruns, even though I've seen them all, and I'd probably watch the latest season if I could. Instead, lately our new religious viewing has been CSI on Thursdays. Something about Gil Grisom, genius forensic criminologist, is entertaining.

Anyway, what prompted this entry is the show "Without a Trace". It follows CSI on Thursdays, plus TNT appears to have picked up old episodes on Mondays. It's about an FBI missing persons investigative team. It doesn't require nearly the suspension of disbelief that CSI or Crossing Jordan requires. These are FBI agents and I have no trouble believing that they can arrest, question, and shoot suspects while in the pursuit of their investigation. On top of that...Without a Trace is just so much more emotionally satisfying than those other shows. Sometimes they go a little too obviously for the emotional angle, with the soldier returned from Iraq, for instance, a plot failing that Law & Order shares, whereas CSI scripts tend to shoot for the obscure, or at least the shadier kind of urban legend. But I still feel good after watching an episode of Without a Trace. There have been episodes of CSI that left me aching and breathless with tragedy. I don't know how to explain it. I just enjoy Without a Trace more.

Okay, I can't justify the fact that I watch TV. I can't even justify that mumbling, rambling paragraph I just wrote. I have to get up early tomorrow. End.

Also, my dad and I watched the season premier of "24". Dammit. They got me again.

Tackleford Life Lessons

2005-01-06T20:10:00.000-08:00

Things I have learned from Scary Go Round:

1. Death is a correctable mistake.

2. Undeath is also a correctable mistake.

3. Always keep more than one time machine.

4. Krakkagar is my secret scary friend.

5. The Portuguese man-o'-war will never achieve its mad military ambitions. It is a jellyfish.

For further endorsement, Eric Burns of Websnark says, "Stroppy! Good English fun..."

There you go. It is educational and stroppy. Bye-bye now.

Retaliatory Vandalism

2004-12-31T11:57:00.000-08:00

Joey Comeau is one of my favorite people in the world. I cannot explain this. He is neat.

In other news, I am sitting in the cafe where my girlfriend works and they are playing really bad music. It makes me shudder. *shudder* eeehhwewehhh.

Happy New Year.

Reflections on a Thai movie (Extra Excellent)

2004-12-31T00:43:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching The Legend of Suryothai, and it seemed important to me to write down whatever thoughts I might have about it. Considering the recent disaster, watching a Thai film did not seem inappropriate.

The trailer hails the film as "The most ambitious Thai film ever made." I have to say that it admirably succeeds at its ambition. It is epic, it is emotional, it is exciting. I felt moved when I was supposed to be moved. I felt admiration for the title character. I was never bored. Considering how long this movie was, that is saying something. The characters are interesting, the violence is effectively graphic, and despite the fact that the story takes place over several years' time, the story is not slow. Not at all.

Looking back at that, I'm being mild. Way too mild. This movie was excellent. I'm going to go back and write something to that effect in the title for this entry now. "Extra Excellent" or something of that nature. This movie...dare I say it...kicks ass. Thrilling, moving, stirring...excellent. 'K? Ok.

I'm going to go to sleep now. With any luck I won't have to watch any New Year's Eve programming tomorrow. Er, today. That would be so nice.

For those of you who have been looking for an all night boulangerie...

2004-12-30T13:48:00.000-08:00

Lore Sjoberg, is excited. And because he is excited, I am excited. But perhaps I should explain in more detail.

Lore Sjoberg is an internet humorist who used to collaborate with David Nielson and others on a website called The Brunching Shuttlecocks. When that ended, he kept us geeky internet types happy with a weblog, which I've linked to above, plus The Ratings and Lore Brand Comics. That's all for background. What's got him all excited (and me, and probably other people, for various reasons ranging from the innocent to the bizarre) is that he's decided to take up animating for Bandwidth Theater as his primary creative focus.

Now, more Bandwidth Theater is pretty exciting. But what's got me excited, as a creative writer who recently embarked upon several new and old projects, is the energy and enthusiasm with which he's taken up the project again. The man is updating his blog pretty much every day and most of the time he is just talking shop about animation. The man's on fire with this. It makes me excited for him.

Well, maybe nobody else gets it. I don't seem to have the words to explain exactly why I'm getting enthused about his enthusiasm. It just makes me want to go write something, so I'm probably going to do that or read some more out of The Unfettered Mind. Ciao, my babies.

"These guys are either drunk or crazy!"

2004-12-23T09:27:00.000-08:00

I just watched the original version of The Flight of the Phoenix.

I haven't even seen the new version and I already know it is a shameful piece of crap. Its trailer is filled with threatening nomads, explosions, and lots of sexy Hollywood people made inexplicably sexier by dehydration and exposure. The original movie involves a bunch of increasingly scruffy and sunburned men, facing certain death, who are just trying to survive by grasping any hope they can find. And it worked. The movie really worked.

It has one of the most hilarious/horrifying twists I have ever seen. It's one of those Twilight Zone moments in which they stare in dawning, disbelieving horror while a small voice in their mind begins to laugh hysterically. There are moments when you actually are not sure that they are going to make it. It was no honeyed up, glitzy Hollywood survivor picture. It was harsh. And it worked.

And now you know.

Hound's Home

2004-12-22T21:59:00.001-08:00

Hound's Home

I just started reading through the archives, but it already led to a new subline for my blog. Things are looking good for this one.

Those Greeks again

2004-12-22T12:55:00.000-08:00

A correction to yesterday's post. I more or less wrote off the entire list of Greek Historians; I delivered a bad impression of them. It wasn't my intention.

Thucydides was a brilliant writer, in my opinion. He was working in a newborn field of writing and study, so there are necessarily tones and issues of style that might rub a modern reader the wrong way. However, he maintains a feeling of yearning and searching for the truth and the heart of historical events throughout his writing, without sounding nearly as naive as Herodotus. He writes with intelligence and integrity and even those he claims to admire are depicted with all their faults and poor decisions unobscured. That is what I meant when I declared Thucydides to be a true historian.

Xenophon's account of the journey of a retreating Greek mercenary army through many miles of enemy territory makes for a good adventure story. I was impressed by his sketches of the major characters, including himself, and by the flow of the narrative. On the other hand, his heroes come out looking nearly golden and his enemies come out looking like black-hearted cowards, so it's difficult to tell how honest Xenophon is being as it regards what truly happened. I meant what I said about him painting a pretty picture, however. Xenophon's account has an almost cinematic quality at times.

I remember a lot more of Polybius than I claimed yesterday. The accounts of the founding of the Achaen League and their opposition to and conquest of tyrannies in Greece I found particularly absorbing is all. However, the other selected writing by Polybius that is included in the book is his chapter on the Roman Constitution, which includes discussion of what makes a good constitution in general. According to Polybius, a nation of people moves necessarily through a certain cycle of governments, from despotism to monarchy, from monarchy to aristocracy, from aristocracy to oligarchy, from oligarchy to democracy, and from democracy to mob rule. From mob rule, of course, the people return to the rule of a despot out of necessity. I found this interesting; I found Polybius interesting. It was wrong of me to write him off as unmemorable.

That is all. Go back to work.

Villainy!

2004-12-22T12:33:00.000-08:00

An article in this month's U.S. News & World Report caught my attention. It was a report on the latest intelligence regarding the insurgency. Recent intelligence reports indicate that Saddam Hussein masterminded a plot to instigate an insurgency and launch attacks on coalition forces in the event that Baghdad should fall and/or he should be captured. Approximately one thousand skilled Iraqi intelligence officers were trained in guerilla warfare and terrorist cell tactics in the months before the U.S. invasion.

Saddam Hussein is the king of the evil dictators.

I mean, when you think about it, he does everything that you're supposed to do as an evil overlord. He researches weapons of mass destruction, he detains, tortures, and executes political rivals and dissident and their families, he tests weapons on civilian populations. He had body doubles, building-sized murals, an elite corps of loyal guardsmen. And, we now discover, he had planned for the eventual defeat of his plans. The current insurgency and political turmoil is Saddam's way of cackling madly and pushing the big red self-destruct button.

Of course, he remains defiant at his trial and likely still expects to be rescued and reinstated by his loyalists. And the insurgency has blown up to include foreign militants, Al Qaeda operatives, and Iranian spies, with a pool of Iraqis in varying states of economic and emotional need to make up recruits for the violent insurgency. The U.S. and the burgeoning democratic government are struggling to deal with infrastructure, politics, and world opinion while combating the rebels, while the insurgents do their best to disrupt the democratic process, scare off foreign civilian aid, and shatter the confidence of Iraqi security forces while making the continued U.S. occupation of Iraq seem increasingly pricey. The Iraqi people are, as always, stuck in the middle, and just do the best they can.

As a human being, of course, Hussein is detestable and monstrous. But as a villain! O, what a superb and admirable man he is.

In other news, Afghanistan has now has a president and he is doing fine.

The Greeks called everybody barbarians

2004-12-21T11:16:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago, I finished reading The Portable Greek Historians from which I was assigned reading selections in my Freshman Humanities class two and a half years ago. Man, oh, man. The thing is, it wasn't half bad.

Herodotus has a really obnoxious tendency to go off on tangents to the point that I sometimes forgot what it was that he was talking about. This is not a good habit to have when you are chronicling a war. Still, this is where you read about Leonidas and his two hundred Spartans holding off the entire Persian army. I also learned that one of the principle generals on the Persian side was a woman, Queen Artemisia. She was one of Xerxes I's most trusted strategists and generals. I mean, think about it. The people of this time barely recognized women as rational beings, yet this woman was a general and trusted advisor to the King of Persia.

Thucidydes was by far my favorite. That man was a historian by God. Of the others, Xenophon tells a pretty good story and paints a nice picture. Polybius was interesting but I don't remember anything he said aside from some things on the Achaen League and how they were justified in using force to unify Greece under a democracy.

Now, to make up for my inconclusive rambling - once again I didn't write about the book until almost a week after I read it - here is an introduction to Achewood, by way of yesterday's comic.

Achewood lays out a pretty unique beat, so don't despair if you don't get it. Sample some of the story lines and see if you can dig it. Definitely, in my opinion, and I'm not going out on a limb here, one of the best webcomics out there. If you like things, anyway.

In other news, I am reading some selected political writings of Augustine. Interesting. I am also reading The Devil's Panties, a diary-type webcomic. The two authors should never meet. I'm sure only one of them would find it amusing.

Oh, I'm going to pay for this

2004-12-20T23:34:00.000-08:00

I just realized that I do my best work when writing into the sunset.

Current Mood: Murder You!

2004-12-20T19:42:00.000-08:00

They should make an emoticon for "Murder You!". On second thought, no. No they shouldn't.

I'm at my parent's house through Christmas. They have the Internet and Turner Classic Movies and all sorts of other things that I do not have at home. Like food, for instance, and furniture upon which to sit.

On the other hand, while I'm here I will be getting exactly nothing done, since the Internet does little more than distract me, and my dad, when not watching something other than Turner Classic Movies, will be giving me jobs to do, unless I retreat to the computer and say, "Homework! I have homework!"

But enough of this misery and weeping! What am I going to do about this problem?

Like all good barbarians, I consult the Oracle .

"O Oracle! Will I achieve anything productive this week?"

Juliette, Dada seer: "Kind words kill sheep."

I...see. As always, the oracle speaks the truth. At least no one will ever be able to accuse me of mass murdering sheep.

Evasive Redirection

2004-12-19T12:48:00.000-08:00

Sure I haven't posted in over a week. I don't have internet access at my place of residence! Fool! I will crush you for your insolence!

So...here is something that Jeff Rowland said:

"I don't think it's really "gay" if you are a guy who has a crush on Indiana Jones. O to cling fast to that sweaty, swashbuckling archaeologist as you swing across an ancient, bottomless chasm, chased by a furious, desperate squad of natives who've for generations sworn to protect what you've just stolen from them, your cheek rubbing against his stubbly man-cheek..."

Heh. Overcompensating.

The third shoe is right.

2004-12-06T20:39:00.000-08:00

Oh, Dada Server, how I've missed you. I don't know how we ever lost track of each other.

Perhaps it was the subcutaneous monkeys you sent me by railcar. I would shake my heart and hear the sounds. The sweet, jingling sounds of vivacious falling monkeys.

Then there was that time I told you that the color of your soul was a blue-green ryoma and your spirit animal was quite clearly Ernie Hudson. You were, at first, flattered, but then you thought too long about Frenchmen. It was always thus.

Meet the people and their lecherous rainbows, Dada Server. Take the time - mind the blood-red thistles - to introduce them to the rest of the fellows from Smalltime Industries. Mass Fiction, UnChat, The Anonymous Message Server. Their hexogonal triptychs salute you.

The question is, does soy milk affect one's menstrual cycle?

The answer is "He who bestirs himself is lost." (Paul Eluard & Benjamin Peret)

Yes, I have been to Super City

2004-12-06T17:05:00.000-08:00

I finished reading the Superosity archives today. All six years of comics. Obviously I would not do this if the comic was total crap, but just to make it official: Superosity = Good.

It is weird. Very, very weird. But oh so good. There's nothing I can say right now that hasn't been said on Websnark, so I won't go into details. I wouldn't recommend it to everybody; if I do recommend it to you, it is probable that I find you warped.

Freak.

MacGuyver lied to me

2004-12-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

I was just reading the following items from an article by Michael Crichton. It was in Parade magazine. What? Everyone needs something to read in the bathroom.

Anyway, he talked about all the great scientific calamities we are supposed to be facing right about now: global warming, overpopulation, etc. Killer bees and cell phone cancer and all that other stuff that makes good news but bad science.

But that's not important. What's important is that I have lost my faith in the science of "MacGyver".

The episode in question is, according to the MacGyver entry on tvtome.com, is...well, I can't seem to find the episode. In it, anyway, MacGyver ends up defending a South American plantation from an army of deadly ants that consumes everything in its path.

Some time after seeing this episode, I watched a documentary on the Science channel about killer ants. I learned this: killer ants are a myth.

Well, mostly. There's a big ant in Australia that certain people are fatally allergic to. And there's another type of ant in Africa that DOES have a reputation for mowing down everything in its path and consuming it, though they mostly eradicate garden pests and other vermin and occasionally domestic animals that are locked in small cages and can't get away. They could and would kill humans if humans didn't usually jump up, brush them off, and flee the area.

But the South American killer army ant is a myth. Scavenging army ants are even a welcome sight, because they, like the African ants, kill pests. They have trouble killing anything larger than a small, exceptionally unlucky lizard, however. They may inflict painful bites and cause swelling, but for the most part they are after things their mandibles can easily tear apart.

My first reaction was, of course, "You lie, Science Channel! MacGyver had to use science and engineering in order to defend himself and his friends from the devastating army of South American ants! They killed one of his close friends! It was on TV!"

Then, days later, or maybe even just now, I realized that MacGyver had lied to me. TV shows do not always use real science, it seems. Even TV shows in which the premise is "Science has real world applications that can save your life."

In other news, I'm almost finished reading the Superosity archives, so I'll probably talk about that later. Cheers!

Explain? No!

2004-12-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

So now, Random Facts:

In Brunei, the penalty for drug trafficking is death. Mandatory death penalty for the trafficking of illegal substances. So...Brunei is hardcore. Also, according to the CIA World Factbook, the U.S. is a consumer of cocaine and heroine, a producer of depressants, stimulants, hallucinogens, and methamphetamine, and a money-laundering center.

We score in all the big areas. How awesome is that?

In other news, movies I have recently seen!

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind: Completely blew me away. Both times I saw it. I also think this may be the first movie I truly enjoyed as an adult. Meaning that its message, adult in nature, had significance to me. I think I was sneak attacked by maturity. +2d6 damage.

Lost in Translation: Well, I was charmed. I even think it may survive a second viewing unmarred. Hmmm, I think I can best describe it as a painting. A really beautiful painting that I could stare at for hours. Yeah.

Hero: I think "stunning" is appropriate. I sure felt leveled after watching it. It had some weak points, but I think they were mostly jarring to my cynical Western mind. For the most part, this movie was like a symphony or a series of paintings representing China's mythical past. A really fine symphony that fills your mind with vivid, emotional images that take your breath away.

Legends of the Fall: Didn't have nearly as much sex as it seemed to when I was a little boy.

And now, I go back to reading the Superosity archives.

So, is this about vanquishing your foes or about destroying the world because you are so terribly sad?

2004-12-04T12:45:00.000-08:00

The Warlord said, "Ah! We've won again! This is good...but what is best in life?"

A warrior said, "The open steppe, a fleet horse, a falcon at your wrist, and the wind in your hair."

"WRONG!" the Warlord said. "Conan! What is best in life?"

And Conan said, "To crush your enemies, to see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women!"

Conan the Barbarian, 1982

Yes, that is good.

I remember now! Joan of Arc!

2004-12-04T10:41:00.000-08:00

Ah, I just remembered one of the reasons I wanted to start a blog: I like to talk about books. I don't belong to a book club; my intellectual side would like nothing better than to sit around with people eating cookies and talking books, but my barbarian side says, "NO! Book clubs are for ladies and homosexuals! They will be CRUSHED!" So.

Anyway, I just read Joan of Arc by Mark Twain. Not too long ago I read his Autobiography. I'd had both books for years and hadn't gotten around to reading them until now. The Autobiography edited by Charles Neider was wonderful. Mr. Clemens wrote the last chapter approximately four months before he died. The whole book is filled with the Mark Twain style that everyone loves and it is probably chock full of lies about his life as well. But it feels honest, the emotion is honest, so that's alright. It wouldn't be Mark Twain if he didn't embellish a bit anyhow.

I didn't know that Mark Twain had written a book chronicling the life of Joan of Arc until I found it on the shelves of a bookstore. Now I know that Mark Twain considered Joan of Arc to be his best book, and he loved it more than any other work. He spent fourteen years in the writing and preparation of it, and when you read it, you can tell that his respect and admiration for the character of Joan of Arc was immense. His narrator is the page, secretary, and childhood friend of Joan, and Twain went out of his way to make sure that all of his facts are correct. I don't really know what more to say about Joan of Arc. Something in her character called out some really powerful emotions in a cynical, agnostic American who, as one reviewer of the book said, "was not disposed to see God at work in the melancholy affairs of men".

A good book. Normally I’d write more, but I finished this book two days ago, so I really missed that first rush of emotion. That's all on books for now.