I believe in beauty...

I was going to tell you about heartache and the loss of god, but you've probably heard that song. I thought instead to tell you of beauty, but what do I know of that? I know of beauty as one who seeks what he is not.
I (mis)quote Shakespeare to myself all the time, most often the line, "I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree." because I believe that I will not. I will never read a paragraph describing a woman that is as beautiful as the woman herself, nor a paragraph describing the beauty of a man. This is not meant to be an argument against the completeness of language, but rather an appreciation of the complexity of beauty as seen through the eye of this beholder.

Today I met an older gentleman with a grey-white beard riding an adult sized bike, but with the scoop handlebars that one would expect to see on a child's bike, the kind with a banana seat. He was wearing a very wide-brimmed cowboy hat instead of a helmet and had on thick black ski gloves that extended as gauntlets almost to his elbows. Of course, to match this he was wearing flip-flops, denim cut-offs and a dirty white v-neck t-shirt. He seemed very happy as he said, "Hello" while passing me by. What an absolutely beautiful site - a bike rider by Dada.

Hmmm...

Do citizens of the Apple nation pray to an iGod?

Will Bill and Melinda Gates' children have code-names before they are born, such as "Mojahe" or "Longhorn"?

Fear of Sleep

When I was a child, I suffered from insomnia. I also suffered from a serious lack of being able to communicate why I couldn't sleep. I'm sure some of it was physiological, but I am just as sure it was partly psychological.
Starting around the age of 12, I became aware of my own mortality. There wasn't a near-death experience, or even anything particularly traumatic, at least to my adult mind, that I can recall. I don't recall it being an epiphany, either. It was more like one night as I lay there staring through the darkness at the ceiling I knew must still be above me, it was like I just said, "Oh yeah, I'm going to die someday." and then went right on staring.
In the fall of 1984, I entered Junior High and a particularly dark time of my life. Though I wouldn't read it for another couple of years, I was acutely aware of the truth of Sartre's "No Exit". This contributed to my mood as I try to get to sleep and 10 turned into 11 turned into midnight turned into 1 turned into 2 turned into 3. By the holidays, the realization of my mortality had turned into, "I might die tonight."
1984 was a presidential year and I avidly followed the media coverage of all of the campaigns and formed my own opinions. No offense to my family, but I've never agreed with them politically or thought that their political views held much merit at all. I have always felt that they voted based on knee-jerk reactions and what the television (and then radio) commercials told them were the important issues. As such, I began to learn all I could about nuclear proliferation, which was not easy for a 12 year old a full 9 or 10 years before the world wide web would be in public use. Fortunately, I had an excellent relationship with the library and the librarians. I was allowed to read some of the adult magazines, the ones that had to be checked out. This was when I first discovered Rolling Stone, but it would be another couple of years before I would appreciate it's political commentary. I was mostly interested in U.S. News & World Report. I already had access to Time and Newsweek, and never have figured out why they kept that one back and not the other two. These magazines and other things I read, like Popular Mechanics and Popular Science, and other influences lead my fears to become "We might all die tonight via nuclear annihilation." This fear stayed with me in a very real sense until Ronald Reagan was out of office.
I tried talking with my mom about this, but her response was something along the lines of "don't worry about something you have no control over", which was exactly what I didn't need to hear. None of my friends wanted to talk about this at all with me because they were thoroughly uninterested in politics, for which I can not blame them. I think I may even have talked to my Sunday School teacher or her girlfriend, both of whom I was really fond of. But, if I did, I did not find what I was looking for.
As I got older, I began to do stuff during the time I should have been sleeping, if for nothing else than to keep about thinking about dying. I read a lot of books and watched a lot of television, well at least until midnight or 1 am when the stations went off the air.
In college, I finally cured my insomnia, if not the reasons behind it. But, the cure was worse than the disease, so to speak. I drank enough alcohol and smoked enough pot for nine or ten college students, all of whom would have been considered hardcore partyers. This took it's toll on my health, both mental and physical. At this point I despair that I will ever recover enough to live a normal life, whatever that means.
I also learned during those years, more from my friend Beth than from personal experience, that sleep could be used to battle your demons. And if it took the bottom of a bottle to find sleep, then so-be-it.

Snap back to the present, and I have a real love-hate relationship with sleep. I don't like to sleep, but I like to dream. I take that back, I'm rather indifferent to sleep, what I don't like is that period of time when I'm falling asleep, which is now mercifully short, or that period in the middle of the night where sleep wanes and evades me for an hour or two.

If it doesn't kill you...

The whole notion of telling someone "If it doesn't kill you, it only makes you stronger." is quite ridiculous and a bit on the sadistic side.

I think a more accurate statement would be "If it doesn't kill you, something else probably will."

Let's think about this for a minute. If Bob is in a car accident and his hands are chopped off and his whole family killed, but he somehow survives, Bob is not made stronger. Bob would probably rather be dead himself and will most likely not be able to live on his own for the foreseeable future. Bob will not even be able to wipe his own arse when he's done taking a shit. Stronger? I dont' think so.
Or how about a more likely situation? After 10 years of marriage, a woman discovers her husband has been cheating on her with her best friend, who has just become pregnant with his child, even though the woman herself, who has desperately wanted a child of her own for years, remains childless. How does hits make her stronger?

I've experienced lots of things in this life of mine that have resulted in being given the advice quoted above. If I could figure out what it was that I had done that had caused me the pain, I decided that I wouldn't do it again. I decided that if it didn't kill me this time, it probably would the second or third time, so I just wasn't going to do that again, no matter how cautious this has made me, no more the opportunities that I've missed. You get the idea.
Things that hurt, hurt. Maybe you glean some kernel of wisdom from the event, maybe you don't. Being hurt doesn't help you build a tolerance to the next hurt.

Vampire Dreams

I'm a lucid dreamer. Every night when I go to sleep, it's like laying down to watch movies. Sometimes the movies are good, sometimes not, but they are often bizarre or extremely normal to the point of being boring.

Last night, I had a vampire dream.It wasn't like most of the vampire dreams that I have, in which I may or may not be a vampire, but am always being pursued by vampires who are stronger than I am. Last night I was a vampire and I was hunting. Typically my vampire dreams are about death and fighting the supernatural. Last night's dream was about sex and voyeurism. Don't worry, it's not one of those kind of dreams, and if it was, I'd keep it to myself, or at least save it for a script or something else appropriate. In fact, I probably won't go into much of the dream at all, as if there is one thing I've learned when relating dreams, it's that no one actually cares, no matter how much they say they do, unless maybe it involves them, maybe.

Vampires are portrayed as hunters in most modern media, but calling them hunters makes it seem like it's all about the food aspect and totally ignores the sex/lust aspect. This dream and it's contemplation has lead me to use the term 'stalker' when thinking of vampires. Lestat is cool when he's a predator, but not so much when he's a sexual predator. Actually, Anne Rice has probably come closer to portraying vampires as stalkers than anyone else in recent times, but the movie "Interview with a Vampire" did not. With the exception of vampires that shy away from human blood (like the good guys in "Twilight") vampires are typically stalkers, though a few are just hunters, but more likely killers more excited about the killing than about he food. It doesn't escape my notice that the vampires who shy away from human blood as food are also commentaries on abstinence.

It also occurred to me that a big part of being a stalker may lay in the pursuit of the victims. Vampires appear to enjoy the pursuit for the pursuit's sake almost as much as they enjoy actually capturing victims to feed on.

Vampires are not nice people, no matter how good looking they are portrayed.

Too darned hot!

This is not a blog entry. This is just a heat delusion.

It's not as hot as this last week, but the humidity is up, and we are trying not to use the air conditioner. Running the air conditioner is darned expensive.

I'm sweaty. Umm, sweatier than usual. But, I'm less bloggy than usual.

I was just going to make a salad for dinner, but now we're having tacos, so it's getting even warmer in here instead of cooler. But, tacos are yummy. :)

Cop Shows

Police procedurals were all the rage when I was going up. "Cagney and Lacey" and "Hill Street Blues" set the bar for reality in police dramas on the small screen. There were other cop shows that tried, but were mroe about action and/or comedy, like "Hawaii 5-O", "Adam 12", "Dragnet" and "CHiPs" just to name the one that I am familiar with.
The drama-driven shows aren't as popular now, but procedurals still are. The Law & Order franchise of shows are the onlly police procedurals still on, but there are a whole slew of shows that are procedurals based on other law enforcement agencies. There are the 3 CSI shows, procedurals about the crime labs that work with the police departments, there are several shows that are FBI procedurals, "Without a Trace" and "In Plain Sight". There is "NCIS" about the Navy's version of the FBI. There are probably other shows that I'm not aware of (I can think of some that might fit the bill, but as I've never watched them, I can't be sure.)
Most of the drama has been replaced with high-tech gadgetry. But, not all of it. The above mentioned shows spend varying small amounts of time on drama.
Perhaps related to the cutting down of the drama, but more likely a result of what caused the cutting down of the drama, is that fact that hour longs shows have moved from 53 minutes in length to 45 minutes in length during initial airing, and are even shorter, by several minutes during syndicated broadcasts. It's hard to be as in-depth and character-drivern with less time.
Another factor that has changed since I was a kid in the 80s, is that as ad time has gone, the target demographic has gone down, in age that is. 25 years ago, the number one demorgraphic that advertisers, and hence television shows, were aiming at was 35 to 54 year old men. I am speaking of prime time television here, as other times of the day had different demographics. Prime time television now is seeking 18 to 34 year old boys/men. But, cable television has changed the scene so much, that the target demographic tends to skew down even more on the financial side - with the older demographic of the 80s, television was looking to speak directly to the family bread-winners and therefore, at least theoretically, the person in charge of the budget. Today, while still trying to make money, the ads are more aimed at niche markets, such as entertainment and smaller dollar items, but sold in larger quantities.
The real money is not even on broadcast television any more. Cable specialty channels is where it is at. The number one sought after demographic is 6 to 12 year old girls. They are the ones who spend the most money or have the most money spent on them.
I guess I should really be counting my blessings that there are any type of criminal procedurals on the air at all, instead of Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers.

weather

The heat finally broke and I got a decent (well, I guess that's relative) night's sleep. This morning's walk was very pleasant, low humidity and temperatures in the upper 60s or low 70s. It's in the 90s again, but it doesn't feel so bad today. It's hard to tell if I'm starting to become acclimated, or if I've just convinced myself that anything 10 to 15 degrees cooler than the days before must feel comfortable.
The best part of my 'weather' day was seeing some high clouds come in.

It should be even nicer tomorrow, and I can finally get some laundry done. We've wisely chosen not to run the dryer or washer during this hot spell. The last thing we need to do is to raise the temperature and humidity of the house even more. It will also be nice to be able do stuff in the mid-day that doesn't involve trying not to move. :)

Even my computers should be happier. They are definitely cold weather creatures. In fact, when it gets above about 75, my laptop starts getting woggy and if I'm not careful will crap out. Crapping out does really bad things to your drives.

New Mission Statement

I want to write books that I want to read. That seems like a no-brainer, but it's not. There are lots of reasons why someone might write something, like money, or because it's how they feel at that moment.
Don't get me wrong, I would love to get paid for writing. But, I would rather write something that was good and worth reading and never receive a penny, than write for a reason other than telling a good tale and make millions of dollars.
This isn't a rant about people selling out. A lot of well known, well paid others write amazing books and a lot of unknown true-to-the-art authors write crap. It's not like I have this amazing gift I can use for good or evil, but I have some meager skill that I can do the right thing with.

That's my new mission statement - writing good books for the sake of good reading.

It's not like before this moment I've been the guy trying to figure out what to write based solely on what is selling. If that were the case, I would probably have made some money by now. (Not because my writing would be better, but because for me to have done that I would have needed to be a lot more motivated about finishing the process.)

I think this new mission statement more applies to my poetry than my fiction. I always write from the heart, and let's face it, most of it is crap. It's one thing to re-read your own work and think, "OK, this needs some editing...", while it's a completely different thing look at it again and be embarassed that I thought it was worth writing in the first place.

I guess this means I just need to write more. :) I also need to learn better, more efficient editing methods.

One thing I'm not going to change is the way I blog. I view blogging as both a way to get in a free-write and to take a snapshot of my thoughts at a particular moment in time. I'm quite happy with the result, even if the level of quality is a bit sporadic at times.

March of the Undead, part II

After vampires, zombies are the most popular type of undead to appear in mass media. I would go so far as to say that they are even more popular in computer games than vampires are.
So what are zombies? And more importantly, how do you stop them?
Zombies are undead monsters who hunger for human brains. Sometimes they are not undead, and sometimes they just hunger for human flesh and not brains per se. Zombies are a bit more homogeneous in their origins than vampires, generally either being created by the bite of a zombie or contracting a virus, often man-made in origin. Two notable exceptions are "The Happening", which has nature itself rebelling against humanity and releasing a pollen that turns humans into a type of zombie mostly interested in killing themselves, but anxious to kill unaffected humans as well, should the opportunity arise; "The Serpent and the Rainbow", looks into how 'traditional' zombies, often referred to as ju-ju zombies, are created through voodoo ritual magic and aren't actually undead nor craving of human brains or flesh. The zombies in this second film are really brain-damaged humans who will almost literally follow any order without stopping or tiring until it is accomplished.
Not cointing the two exceptions mentioned above, almost all movies deal with stopping zombies the same way, removing the head of the zombie, though "Shaun of the Dead" only requires that the brain be destroyed, so you could just bash it's head in. While the methods to kill zombies (if you can kill what is not living) would certainly kill humans, all the other methods that kill humans will not kill zombies. There are some variations to the way the head is removed from the bosy, such as by gun blasts and burning the body to ashes.
Gosh, zombies are almost boring compared to vampires and certainly easier to understand.

Another Two Bite The Dust

Two more vampire movies under my belt. I love doing research. I suppose I could go out in the field and look for real vampires, but since I don't believe there are any, that and I don't drive, I think it would be a waste of time. Plus, it's too damned hot this week.
Yesterday, I finally watched "Twilight". That was a good movie, even I didn't like the way they handled vampires. In the movie, vampires can be out and about in daylight, even in direct sunlight. What happens to them in sunlight? Is it like the traditional vampire who begins to burn and then turns to dust? No. They just look all sparkly. But the story and the acting were both quite good. I will definitely borrow the books form my niece or preferably find an audio copy somewhere and give them a listen to.
The vampire movie I watched was "Ultraviolet". Mmmm, I like Milla Jovovich. She makes me feel funny. Funny in a good way. The movie is more sci-fi/martial arts thriller than vampire flick. Right off the bat we are told that the 'vampires' have a virus that has gotten them the nick-name of 'vampire', but that they're not really the undead. Still, they hold closer to vampires than about half of what I've seen. Plus, the movie stars Milla Jovovich. The film is based on a comic book, and kind of takes on that look, which is fine with me, being the big fanboy I am.

I think I've seen all major vampire films out, and I've read most of the popular authors. Now, I've got to try and fine the more obscure films and the less well-known authors. I'm also going to read through the "Vampire: the Masquerade" RPG again and see what I can gleen. Soon, I will have completed my research and can get back to finishing my novel, which is, as you may have guessed, about vampires.

When shark movies attack...

Today, I watched Samual L. Jackson get eaten by a genetically altered shark. Well, the character he was playing at any rate. What is it about sea life attacking people that seems so compelling that dozens of movies have been made about it?
The movie with Mr. Jackson, called "Deep Blue Sea". It had it's moments but was about 20 minutes too long. Though, I do appreciate the ending, as of the two characters that survived, only one was predictable. The love interest does not make it, but instead the eccentric chef does. Who saw that coming? It made sense though.
I unfortunately also watched the 'world premiere' of "Malibu Shark Attack". The special effects were good, the acting was pasable, it was just too damn long.. You can tell early on who is going to die and who is going to live, and it's not much of a suspenseful movie as it really depends on vicious shark attacks and later vicious attacks on sharks.
The third movie in my sea monster trilogy actually featured a giant squid instead of a shark. Blasphemy, I say! But, it was a fresh water giant squid...huh? Well, as long as it's that improbable, okay. Actually, this movie was pretty decent. It's called "Eye of the Monster" and stars James Van der Beek as a N.O.R.A. scientist sent to some large lake in the northeast to figure out why their fish population has become so depleted. The only real issue I had was that this lake must be friggin' huge and I think for some of the day time footage they used the great lakes. I guess if you're going to show one of the great lakes, then have the movie set there. But all in all, I would actually recommend this movie if you like the human versus natural monster genre.

Bring on the Funk

One of the best live shows I've ever seen was George Clinton and the P-Funk Allstars at La Luna in Portland sometime in teh mid-90s. I'm just a little too young have seen Parliament. Hey, no complaints though, this was an awesome show.
I believe I went to the show with Jim and Jenny, but they spent the whole show in the bar and after my one drink, I moved out to my favorite spot on the floor beside the soundboard. Over the years going there, I met quite a few musicians as they came back to the soundboard to talk about something or other.
The highpoint of this night was definitely standing and smoking joints with a full-grown man dressed in a giant diaper. Mr. Clinton didn't speak much, I guess he was letting his onstage performance do his speaking. This was the third coolest concert experience I've had.
Well, I guess I can't say that and not list numbers 2 and 1. Interestingly, they all involve pot (which, for the record I haven't smoked in just shy of 10 years).
The second coolest concert experience was seeing Neil Young perform on the Portland waterfront during the Timberfest in '94. Mr. Young was the warm-up act for Vice President Al Gore. I went on this mid-afternoon adventure with Mark. We did bring any pot with us. We didn't need to. According to the media there were 400,000 people crammed into the waterfront. It seems that every other person was pulling out a bong or a pipe. The police and National Guard troops just contained the crowd. Mark and I were somewhere in the middle of all the madness, maybe a third of the way back in the crowd. It was truly an awesome experience, especially when Mr. Gore buzzed the crowd in his black helicopter.
But, the coolest conert experience happened during the 8th and final Mayor's Ball in Portland. While the Crazy 8's were playing a set in the main room. I found myself in a circle of about 20 guys at half-court. We were passing about five pipes aaround in a clockwise manner. I don't know exactly when I noticed who I was standing between, but pretty early on, because I got to talk to them a little bit. On my left was Kim Thayill, guitarist for Soundgarden and on my right was the band's lead singer, Chris Cornell. If anyone from the bank ever heard that I had a Soundgarden story, well this is the reason I couldn't tell it.

Ohh, to be young again.

Kudos Facebook

Hey, would you look at that! I filed a bug report with Facebook and two days later the bug is fixed. :)

I'm sure it wasn't my request by itself that got it fixed, as it was listed in their F.A.Q. under known bugs, but still, there timing was pretty good. The bug was that the chat/online status button would not do anything. So, since at some point I had turned off chat, I couldn't turn intn back on, or see which of my friends were on Facebook.

Now, if they can just get the Farkle bug fixed. But, they won't. They've already told me that it's a bug with the application, not with Facebook. It's a weird bug - while playing Farkle, sometimes buttons do random things. For example, you may push the "Roll" button and another application opens up, or you may push the "Continue" button to have your site mail open to send a message to a friend. I've just taken it as the universe is telling me to quit wasting my damn time playing Farkle. ;)

The March of the Undead: Part 1 - the Vampires

The other day I wrote a little bit about vampires in popular media. What I didn't discuss was actually what vampires were. Vampires are undead, that is to say they are no longer living, yet they are not dead. They are more than automatons, though, retain their memories from their lives and retain their senses. They are generally stronger and faster than humans, but cannot be exposed to sunlight for fear of death, and they also have a strong aversion towards garlic and crosses. They have fangs - long canines for biting their victims, and can be killed by a wooden stake through the heart (but then, who can't be?). To power their bodies, vampires cannot eat as they did in life, but must subsist on blood. The other details vary from author to author.
The original vampire, Dracula, was a horrible man, Vlad "the Impaler" Tepec. He was a horrible man, who did horrible things. I mean what would you expect with the nickname "the Impaler"? Dracula has the ability to mesmerize his prey, can turn to mist and take the form of wolf or bat. His change from Tepec to Dracula came about through non-biblical.
The Anne Rice vampires are the creations of the first vampire, Cain of biblical fame. Each 'generation' is weaker than the one that sired it (made it into a vampire), but is just as susceptable to the things which destroy vampires. Like Dracula, Rice's vampires have the power of mesmerism over their prey. Unlike Dracula, some of the vampires survive on non-human blood, but their quality of undeath is less than when they subsist on human blood. It is unclear whether this is due to quality or quantity. Unlike Dracula in which there are only four vampires, in Rice's books there are dozens with the oldest vampires thousands of years old and of immense power, power enough for them to even withstand exposure to sunlight.
Blackwolf Games role-playing game, "Vampire: the Masquerade" (the game from the 90s) builds off of Rice's vampires but divides the vampires into clans. Each clan has it's own strengths and weaknesses. Some are bestial, some have heightened strength, etc. The game tones down the religious aspect, while at the same time broadening it. Now, crosses are less effective, but religious symbols form other faiths also work.
The "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" franchise handles vampires completely differently. Especially in the television series, vampires are just something for the main character to overcome. There is little explanation of their abilities or powers or origins. Notably, there is an episode where Dracula comes to sunny Southern California, and of course is slain by Buffy. Another major change is that the vampires change appearance when they are getting ready to feed. They go from looking like normal humans, to having engorged foreheads and extended fangs. The best way to describe vampires in this setting is "disposible".
In the Blade trilogy and Underworld trilogy, vamires are no longer effected by garlic, or by religious symbols. They've also embraced modern technology utilizing it to both help prolong their lives and end the lives of their enemies. The vampires have also taken on a longer world view, thinking in terms of centuries, instead of years. As a result of this, the vampire 'bosses' are extremely wealthy.

Religiality

I'm not a religious person. At this point in my life, I'm not a spiritual person. I can't much stand organized religion, while I have oodles of respect for spirituality.

So, what exactly do I mean? Religion is a social grouping of individuals who share a similar, often particular, world view. That sounds pretty inocuous. By organized religion (a term often used which is why I chose it) I really mean dogmatic, institutional religion, you know like the Catholics or Sunis. For purposes of writing less words, I'll just refer to this as religion.
Not everything about religion is bad. You can get rich, you have unfettered access to young boys, if you work it right - no taxes, you're always right and you're one of the chosen few going to heaven.
Religion is great for soothing the masses. I honestly think that many people are attracted to religion because someone is willing to tell them what to do and to think. I'm not being the least bit fececious when I write this. Just look at all of the people that worship Rush Limbaugh or Howard Stern or Phish or Widesperead Panic. Every junior high school student knows that life is much easier if you fit in and don't stick out. Religion offers you the whole package, what to think, what to do, who you can talk to, who to vote for. Religion is probably the greatest socializing force in the world outside of the family.
Spirituality is not the opposite of religion. It is one's personal quest to figure out the meaning of life, and how to live it along the way. Most importantly, spirituality is respectful of other people's spirituality. In your quest for personal enlightment, it's perfectly acceptable to study with others, or inquire, or do whatever it is that you need to do.
I have known many Christians and Jews and Buddhists who I consider to be very spritual. They read their respective texts and attend their respective places of worship, all while keeping their mind open and maintaining respect for other's beliefs.
Likewise, I have known many "non-religious" people who are just as bad as the "bible-thumpers", if not worse. I have set through more than one evening of hearing a blowhard rant about how there is no god and anyon that thinks there is a god is an idiot (or worse).

I think about this stuff a lot. My formal training is in Philosophy and Sociology, after all. I'm sure I'll mention another time my thoughts on politics in the U.S. and there are many, many parallels to be drawn, and in fact, more than a few players are the smae in both games.

Sy-Fy So-So

Coming to you almost live from my little slice of Oregon, I'm Eric Cone, Critic. The say, "Those that can do, and those that can't, teach." Well those that know better critique.

I had the opportunity to spend some time this weekend with the Sy-Fy channel. Notice, I didn't say 'quality time'. I'm a big science fiction fan, and felt totally dirty after my time with the channel. Sadly though, it was still probably the best stuff on televeision - I mean you can only watch the same episode of CSI: NY so many times before it begins to lose it's charm.
So what's up with the name change to Sy-Fy? Were there people who were pronouncing Sci-Fi as "Skee-Fee"? I recall reading an article right around the time they chenged their name that it was an effort to step away from the "stigma" of science fiction. Yet, the channel's content is the same... Are there people who would actually begin watching the channel just because of the spelling change to it's name? I sincerely doubt it.
The allure of a science fiction channel, regardless of what it is called, is that it's content is of a science fiction nature. Science Fiction is one of those blanket terms that covers everything from Lord of the Rings to Star Wars, everything from Pirates of the Caribbean to The Terminator. Throw in a healthy dose of Horror and Speculative Fiction, and that is pretty much the broad genre. Sounds pretty sweet to me.
But, the sad reality of it is that a favored genre does not equal quality programming. I had the misfortune of watching several of Sy-Fy's "original" movies. The movies were "Thor: Hammer of the Gods", "MonsterArk" and "Gargoyle: the something something" (it was late). The first two took themselves very seriously, while the third one did not. The third movie, while not great was hands down the best of the three.
"Thor: Hammer of the Gods", was a spin on the Norse mythos. I'm very willing to accept a new interpretation of a time honored story, if it's done well. But, this movie wasn't done well. While set in the time of the Vikings, the movie could have been set any time, as I'll explain later. The main characters all happen to be named after the gods of Norse mythology and are related to each other in the same way as the gods were. That seems a bit unlikely, especially when we discover that the characters, and presumably other vikings, only remember the names of two gods - Odin and Loki - and remember some of the deeds of the gods. The crew is travlling north in their long-boat-sized viking ship to find the lands of the gods and the giants. Ok, but you don't know the names of any of hte gods... After having traveled for weeks, they finally come to the "Northern-most island any person has ever sailed to" and promptly get off their ship in the middle of the night to the sound of crickets. But, as soon as it's light out, we see there is a lot of snow, which one would expect far North. The only problems is that there wouldn't have been crickets. Crickets do not winter well, and they are not active, i.e. no song, unless the temperature is above 42 degrees.
From the very beginning of the movie, the time is all screwed up, event taking into account that in the far Northern zones days and nights can be very, very long depending on the time of the year. But, the movie gives us a morning in the dark, followed by a long day that is lit brightly until the characters are calling it night. The next day they leave in the light, travel in the dark, travel in the light, travel in the dark again and travel in the light again all before setting up camp for the night. They did not walk for multiple days, as their travel and the time it takes is key to the plot (or so they feel) so they talk about how long everything is taking. The whole movie takes place over three days, but the time showed by the sequence of shots is at least two weeks. I made sure to pay special attention to this after I noticed it.
Another one of those things that bother me is the phenomenon of the changing accent. Characters drift between American, British and Nose accents throughout the course of the movie, different characters having different accents at different times. The main character, Thor, who may quite likely have been acting for the first time, starts off with I think may be an attempt at a Norse accent, moves to a British accent and finishes strongly with an American accent. His main rival starts American and ends up somewhere close to British.
The special effects for the movie were, um, embarassing. They made the old Doctor Who series look like Lucas Films. But, this movie could have pulled it off if they had taken the same attitude as the old Doctor Who series and gone for the campy instead of playing it straight. Interestingly enough, the costumes were very good, if a bit too clean and were the only consistent thing throughout the movie.
"Monster Ark" is set in the modern day, so they have to do less work to establish the setting. which is too bad, because the second half of the movie is set in Iraq but I'm pretty sure it was filmed in Arizona and Sourthern California.
The main characters are archeologists. They're supposedly not the Indiana Jones type, but they kind of behave that way. Their science in the field is really bad. They don't take pictures of anything, or notes. They break things open, snag the contents of the room and take off, the whole while lecturing on the scientfigic integrity of their work (this is a key plot point). Just because you say something is so doesn't men it is. I don't know why the director didn't just have some of the story take place off camera, it could have solved a lot of these problems.
A couple of the actors in this movie actually do a good job, which is kind of a waste since the whole sotry and production are, shall we say, crap. At least there wa s only one character with a drifting accent.
As I mentioned above, the second half of the movie takes place in Iraq with the U.S. Military as major characters and essential to the story. The stereotypes of the soldiers are so bad that you hate the movie. The Major, the main speaking part for the soldiers, is played by a large black man who only cares about "huntin' down that varmint". There are so many things wrong with the way the military is portrayed. First of all, they have a major leading a bunch of corporals and privates. Secondly, most of the soldiers never speak, but every time they fire their weapons, they literally scream like little girls. Thirdly, the uniforms are Hollywood light. None of the soldiers carry any gear, not even canteens. All except the major wear nylon vests over their fatigues that I can only assume are supposed to represent body armor or being in a special unit.
This movie also suffers from a lack of a good AD, at one point they can only take one vehicle out because all of their fuel has been blown up, but when the vehicle returns (not having picked up any fuel) all the vehicles leave and drive over 100 miles to an Iraqi "village".
The village looked very similar to the town in "Casablanca" with Humphrey Bogart. It was also at this point that I realized that the locals are all using AK-47s and so were the U.S. Soldiers.
The special effects remind one of the Ray Harryhausen movies of the 60s, remember "Clash of hte Titans"? Except that Mr. H's effects were far superior to the computer generated beast which does not stay a consistent size and only casts a shadow sometimes.
Still, all of this pailed in comparison to the dialog between the two main characters who can only talk about "faith versus science". It all works out so predictably I'm embarassed to say that I didn't turn the channel to watch an informercial.
The final move, "Gargoyle" was not a comedy, but was close to it. Maybe it was supposed to be a comedy and they didn't quite achieve it? The movie takes place in Hungary, where everyone speaks perfect English, except for one character, but I'm sure it's because the actor was not a native speaker, not some poor attempt at an accent. It was funny (to me) the way the nationality of the characters was announced every time we saw them. It wasn't in a normal type of way either, where you might refer to as some characters from the U.S. as "Americans", but alwayss, "this is so-and-so from America" or from Italy, or France, etc.
I haven't checked online yet, but I am sure that this movie was actually filmed in Europe and may have been produced by a European counterpart of the Sy-Fy channel. It just had a different feel to it.
A feel it definitely had to it was the "we've edited out the scenes that make this a porno and put in special effects scenes and a car chase".
Most of the characters are two-dimensional, though the local Chief of Police is almost a normal human. The dialog in the beginning is pretty ofrced, but by the end of the movie there is a definite campiness to it and the whole group has loosened up.
But, for all of the crap I put up with in the movies, the television series produced by and aired on Sy-Fy are pretty entertaining. While I haven't gotten a chance to watch "Battlestar Galactica" (I may have to turn in my nerd credentials), I have gotten to watch "Warehouse 13" and "Eureka". I liked them both well enough that I plan to watch them in the future.

Goodbye Frank

I had just written my blog entry (I don't write it online) and was preparing to post it here when I saw the news that Frank McCourt had passed away.
I absolutely love his books. I discovered about three years ago that the audio versions of his books are both unabridged and read by Mr. McCourt himself. I think you get so much more out of hearing a book read by it's author than just hearing it read.
Frank McCourt's stories of family and coming to America are brilliant. They are proof that good stories do not need super-heroes or far-fetched coincidences or haughty language to hold a reader's attention.
Ironically, the only book that I haven't read (or heard) is his most famous, "Angela's Ashes". But, I lan on reading it this summer, as soon as I'm done with "Ulysses".

Oh facebook...

Remember life before facebook? It was so much simpler then. Check your email every once in a while...maybe IM a friend...look in Google for a game to play online.

Now, we have facebook (or is it that facebook has us?) and everything is better. Right? Right?

I'm part of that 1% of computer users not using Microsoft of Apple. So, somehow facebook's java script (which is platform independent) is not working on my machine. I am using Firefox, though. They're the number one or number two browser depending on who you ask. And, I'm as updated as I can possibly be.

Somehow, it's supposed to still be my issue. Well, I could see that being the case, if I were perhaps having issues with other pages, or other issues with Firefox, or other issues with Java, or etc. etc. But, I'm not. Only facebook and I are fighting at the moment. And as much fun as it is for random things to happen whenever I click on the buttons (or not happen, depending on the buttons), I might have to give facebook a break. And yes, I've checked out the Help section and filed bug reports. After all, I'm a Linux user and we are the people who can't help but tell system admins what we think. Or is it that fact that I have an IT degree? Same difference. :)

I'm jonesing for facebook just writing about it. Just one last game of Farkle...

And that's the way it is...

It seems like a a lot of celebrities have been dying lately. Is it any more than normal? I can't tell. I would wager that it is, judging solely by the fact that NPR is talking about these particular individuals, when normally celebrity news is not mentioned on the channel, though some deaths do warrant mentioning.
But, even NPR provided a lot of coverage of hte Michael Jackson passing and subsequent proceedings.
Just tonight, they came to us with news that the venerable Walter Cronkite had passed away. What a voice that guy had. "And that's the way it is." He was the ultimate authority in the country for decades.

It's sad really that these celebrities are only getting covered one last time because they've died. It makes you wish that respectible organizations would do bios of them while they were still alive so that they could be part of it. I'm talking about 'classy' stuff - not tabloid television.

Hmm, I wonder who will be next?

Best Rock Band Ever

Okay, let's just get this out of the way up front. I think the Beatles are the best pop band ever. I may even be wililng to grant them the status of best over all. But, they're not the best rock band.
The best rock band ever is hands-down, Soundgarden. "What?" you say. "Didn't the win the Grammy for best Heavy Metal band or something?" Well, the Grammy was actually for "Best Hard Rock" band, which greatly surpriesed lead singer, Chris Cornell, who considered his band to be a "Rock" band. Me too.
I guess I need to lay out what genres I break music down into. There are essentially a few major categories, and then some sub-categories for each. I think the main groups are Jazz, Gospel, Opera, Classical, Country, Hip-hop, Pop and Rock. I listen to all of these genres, but enjoy some less than I do others. I mostly listen to Rock and it's sub-genres, Pop, Hip-hop and Jazz. That is when I get to choose the music. My brother is a hardcore Country music fan, if not actually into hardcore Country music (he's more a Pop-Country kind of guy).
In furthering my effort to get stuff out of the way so I can talk about Soundgarden, I'll leave the non-rock categories only at their highest level and say at the moment, best Jazz is John Coltrane and best Hip-hop is Outkast. I see Rock being further broken down into Soft Rock, Hard Rock, Alt(ernate) Rock, Prog(ressive) Rock, Psychadelic Rock, Butt Rock/Hair Rock and Heavy Metal. I don't really have favorites in those last two, just groups that I hate less than others. So, Soft Rock - Coldplay, Hard Rock - Jerry Cantrell, Alt rock - The Shins, Prog Rock - Modest Mouse, Psychadelic Rock - Jefferson Airplane (w/ Jane's Addiction a very, very close second).
I guess that soon I will have to list all of the sub-genres and my favorites. I'll have to do a top five for each (to honor 'High Fidelity' of course).

I have all 5 Soundgarden albums on my iPod, not to mention all 3 of Mr. Cornell's solo albums. I have a few of the "other" songs, from movie soundtracks, compilations, etc. I don't have any of the new/side projects for Ben Sheppard or Matt Cameron, not counting Pearl Jam. But what makes this band the best? Well, it's harder than I thought to just list reasons, other than, "I think they're the best." I really like their voal stylings, especially when mixed with the driven lead guitar. The bass and drums are always solid and lend to the blend, but don't stick out particularly, which is not a bad thing. I think the lyrics themselves are very thought provoking and in some cases pure poetry, both for content and syballince.
I'm the first to admit that I'm biased, but I think choosing the best of anything necessarily is. I came of age with Grunge and cut my teath on Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Mudhoney, the Screaming Trees, the Afghan Wigs, etc. etc.
I think another big reason taht I really like this band is that each album took them further along a path. You can listen to a song and palce the album immediately, because their sound was continuing to grow across the arc of their work.
Plus, I think they're cool.

Wampyr

I think we're all familiar with the story of vampires. Some creepy guy sucks the blood of some buxom young woman and just when he is about to be discovered he turns into a bat and flies off into the night.
Well, maybe not. A lot of the movies and books out today have very little to do with Bram Stoker's idea of vampires. The 'Underworld' movies features vampires that are like the classic vampire except that they are suffering from a virus that has been passed down from the first vampire to them. 'Ultraviolet' also has virus vampires, but this time from a human-made virus. 'You Suck', has traditionally created vampires, but it's a comedy so the vampires aren't the mysterious, super sexy types. There are several pop literature series about vampires in everyday life, my favorite is about a young woman living in Minnesota as a vampire with a very healthy sex-life. Of course, there also the Anne Rice novels, which are very traditional in their handling of vampires, and quite well-written to boot. There are the "blood" genre movies, like 'John Carpenter's Vampires' and the 'Dusk till Dawn' movies. Vampires in these films are only fodder for the heroes to kill. And of course, there are the 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' movie and television series (not to mention card game and role playing game). The Buffy franchise is very similar to the "blood" genre, but less gore and more humor.
There are a ton of vampire-as-hero stories. The 'Blade' trilogy, 'Love At First Bite', 'Dark Knight' (the television series not the Batman movie), a series of books set in Autralia after vampires have been "outed". These movies, television shows and books (along with some in the previous paragraph) go out of their way to show "humane" vampires. Vampires have found a way to survive while not feeding on the blood of the innnocent. These vampires spend their time trying to "do good" to make up for past transgressions.
A common thread through all of these movies is a general lack of horror at vampires. In most of them, the vampires are killers. But everyone either wants to be one or to kill one. Often the vampire killers are as blood-thirsty and horrible as the vampires they are hunting.
I haven't read 'Twilight' yet, or seen the movie, but I suspect that it doesn't break the mold.
Now, I'm not saying that any of these films or books or television series are bad, though undoubtedly some are. But, none of them come close to the original, 'Dracula' by Bram Stoker. Actually, the movie 'Bram Stoker's Dravula' was pretty decnt and came reasonably close to creating the same kind of horror as the book. There is the Willem Defoe movie, 'Shadow of the Vampire' which does a reasonable job of creating mystery and suspense and is pretty decent, too. And of course, there is the classic film, 'Nosferatu' from the early days of the cinema that does a good job of evoking the dread that is Dracula.
I really do enjoy Anne Rice and the Underworld movies, though. I'm just looking for something darker.

No man is born an island

Over the weekend I heard an interview with a singer/songwriter who was talking about the darker quality of his music and mentioned that, "We are all born alone and we all die alen." Later, on one of my morning constituationals, a song came on with the lyrics, "We are all born alone and we all die alone, it's what we do in between, blah blah blah..."

I bet you could see me going either way on this topic, huh?

Well the truth of it is that while I may understand and at times even empathize with the sentiments of this saying, it has always bothered me. Why? Because, it's not true. It's not even an exageration masquerading as a truth.

Let's deconstruct the statement, shall we? Any time you start throwing universals around, such as "all", you are just opening yourself up for criticism. So, because I'm feeling in a particularly generous mood, let's dismiss the use of that word for the point of this discussion.
Examining the second part, "...we (all) die alone." we quickly realize that this is not proven, and in fact most people can cite specific examples from their personal life of being present when a loved one has passed on, or knowing of someone who has been present at such a time. As far as I can find, there is no scientific study I can point to and say one option, either being alone or not, is more prevelant than the other. My pop wisdom tells me that either is just as likely.
Taking a look at the first part of the statement, "We are (all) born alone..." you quickly ask yourself what twins might say to this? Or how about kittens? I mean to show this as a poor use of language that doesn't limit it's statement enough to make any sense. Even more importantly, no baby has ever been born without a mother present, if born by traditional methods. There may be some kind of experimental stuff going on, like growing babies in artificial wombs, but I'm willing to bet that there are plenty of scientists and doctors around for those births, too. I've been begging the religious questions, as I don't hink they're worth my time (that can be a whole different blog) but even the virgin birth had a mother.

So, the statement should really read either at, "We are born and we may die alone." Or more contextually as "I feel as if we are all born alone, and that we will all die alone." putting the statement clearly into the realm of the metaphorical and avoiding the ire of hackneyed bloggers like myself.

Thunder gods and dipshit clods

So a high pressure and a low pressure area come together. They don't get along, having different views over politics and the what-not. If the high is high enough and the low is low enough, then sparks will soon be flying.

I've always thought of thunder as the sound of the sky ripping. I imagine that when faster-than-light space travel is eventually invented and engineered, there will be a similar sound, but not hearable in space. It's one of those does-a-tree-falling-make-a-sound-if-noone-is-around-to-hear-it, kind of things. But, I know that thunder is not really the sound of the sky ripping, it's more like the sky grinding.

I'm not a meteorologist (oh, wish that I were), so I reserve the right to be completely wrong in my understanding of weather in general and thunder and lightning in particular. For that matter, consider this my caveat emptor. I'm not anything important, so I reserve the right to be wrong about everything. But, that's not going to stop me from writing about it.

I kind of imagine thunderstorms to be analogous to plate tectonics. Air masses bumb against each other, if they are similar enough, there is not a definite border, but if one is hot and the other cold, or one is high pressure and the other low, they bump into each other and act in an analogous way to land masses. When they're pushing on each other and one of them, or both of them finally gives, the ensuing friction is what causes the thunder and the lightning.

I've always considered thunder to be the base effect in the air wars. I've never necessarily felt that thunder caused lightning, or that lightning caused thunder, but rather that they were both children of the same beast.

Lightning is all cool and everything, but thunder is where it's at. I'll give lightning that it looks spectacular, but thunder can shake your fillings out. But, in some ways it's almost like a gentle mosnter - you've never heard of anyone being struck by thunder.

Metric walking

I'm a little sore today having walked a bit farther than normal at a bit quicker rate than normal in a bit warmer air than normal, yesterday after the movie. The movie finished, I'd been sitting for a long time and it was such a nice temperature for standing around and contemplating the temperature. The theater was only 6 kilometers from the house, and I just thought, "why take the bus?"
It wasn't really that bad of a walk. I just started off at too quick of a pace. I useally walk about 4 kilometers a day, and my goal is to use up my legs (so to speak) in that distance. I just didn't do a good job pacing.
I also typically walk in the morning when the temps are in 60's not in the afternoon with temps in the upper 80's. It also didn't help that I was wearing a black t-shirt.
Thank the Lord (of the Dance) that I wore sensible shoes for walking.
I've also been wrestling with the idea that maybe I was more worn out than I might have been because of all the popcorn I had eaten. That just oculd not have been the best thing to literally fill up on before exercising.

C'est la vie. I'm still hear to write this, so it could have been that big of a deal.

More than meets the eye

I finally saw Transformers today. :) I guess I must be a true fanboy, because I liked it. I had no doubts that I would though. I liked the first one, heck I even liked the animated movie that came out in '84.

I've decided that I often am willing to suspend my disbelief. I like to watch a movie and take it all in and enjoy it for what it is. I like to be critical later, as a way to continue the enjoyment - whether I liked it or disliked it. I rarely walk out of a movie hating it. I might dislike it later, or I might love it later, or I might love to hate it later.

Now, the price to go to the theater to see a movie...damn! And then you go to the concession stand...holy shit! And I went during the cheap time.

Deacon Blues

I was out in the spring-like weather enjoy my morning exercise and listening to music as I often do. Then, I got to thinking, which I also often do. The song ;Deacon Blue;, by Steeley Dan came on and I cranked it up a little bit. I've like this song for decades, but perhaps was listening to it for the first time through earbuds. Let me tell you, earbuds, high volume and saxophone do not mix. Any two of the three works just fine, but add the third element and wow! Instant headache. Fortunately, it's the kind that goes away in three and a half minutes.

It was really the next song that got me thinking about music, 'Valencia' by The Decermberists. What a great story. The first few times Ryan played this band for me, I wasn't liking what I heard. But, it was my brother's-in-law house and my brother's-in-law music; that and there is nothing wrong with people playing music I don't like, as this story will become a testament to. Not much later, I found out that our friend Amy had gone to high school with the lead singer, Colin Maloy (sorry about the spelling as I sometimes would rather be wrong than fact check on Wikipedia). He apparently had been quite pretentious and somewhat a prick towards Amy. That was it. This is a band I would hate.
But I kept it to myself a while and Ryan continued with the disk in heavy rotation. Eventyally, during a board game when voting on music I mentioned that they were not something I wanted to listen to. Everyone in the room was amazed. My other brother-in-law, Kristian, literally stood by the CD player with a shocked expression on his face. Ryan, Kristian and I are all music snobs. Kristian, however, always seems amazed that people can like music that he doesn't, which he usually refers to as them lacking musical sense, and is even more surprised when someone doesn't like something he does. I love the guy to death, but sometimes he just cannot comprehend how other people in the world can feedl differently about stuff than he does. So, in true Kristian fashion, he resolves that the problem is I had not been listening enough and put the album on. Now, he didn't live with us, so he had no way of knowing that we had been hearing that album four or five times a day on Ryan's days off from work and two or three times a day the rest of the week. Whatever.

But, something did happen, not at once, but by the time Courtney and I found our own place I was willing to listen to the back library to see if there was something in it that I might like better. I also saw them live, which made a world of difference. Colin didn't sound so 'snotty' live.
Time went by and The Decemberists released a new album, which I found myself eagerly awaiting. What had happened? Stories. These songs weren't throw away pop songs full of the latest jingoisms. The songs are also full of clever wordplay, which is a big turn on for me in any medium.

James Taylor's 'Fire and Rain' came up next, followed by Jonny Cash's rendition Trent Reznor's 'Hurt'. Both songs are excellent stories, if a bit depressing.
I was first turned on to Bob Dylan by his story telling. The same holds true for Tom Petty, Pink Floyd ('The Wall' was the first album of their's that I owned) and Bruce Springsteen. I found a lot of good stories in Pearl Jam's work as well as Soundgarden's and Beat Happening's work.
I like more music than just "story-tellin'" music, but don't think I get as deeply involved.

Summertime and the livin's breezy

What a difference a couple of days make - Saturday it was in the high 90s and today it was only 58 degrees when I walked by the digital thermometer, and it's predicted to only get in the mid-60s.

I used to be a weather fanatic, but then I stopped. It's not that I quit caring, quite the contrary. I'm intellectually fascinated by meteorology and how I might use it to predict my own future, weather-related of course. Well, let's just say it made me even more boring than I really am, which is pretty damn boring. The decision was alos circumstantial, which I won't go into because I'm in a different circumstance now.

I decided to be curious about the weather by personal observation and careful mental note-taking. I may not know if it will rain tomorrow, but I know if it's raining now. This is indicative of an attitude shift on my part - I don't care if it's going to rain tomorrow. Rain or shine, tomorrow is most likely still going to happen. I think more likely now then say six months when a certain "regular guy" from Texas had control of the red button and was a hunting trip away from being replaced by Wyoning's own Dark Lord of the Sith.

I'm reminded of a Buddhist teaching, er, maybe it's Zen Buddhism that this comes from...anyway, to paraphrase, "When you are hungry, eat. When you are not hungry, do not eat. When you are tired, sleep. When you are not tired, do not sleep." I've also seen a more commanding version, "Only eat when you are hungry, only sleep when you are tired."
So, on a personal level, I'm only going to worry about the rain when it's raining. I don't take this to mean that one whould plan for the future and act accordingly. I just mean I'm not going to worry about it.

Today, my color is dark forest green, the shade that is dark enough it's beginning to look dark grey. Repeating dark blue was narrowly averted by an extra hour of sleep. :)

Mish-mash

I've been living in a house on fire
and the whole time thought it was the summer heat.

I pulled myself from the flames
to see that it was a total loss - everything had burned.

I wrapped a blanket around myself
to put out my still smoldering clothes.

I've been choking on the smoke for years
and only just now realized it wasn't seasonal allergies.

I need a mantra, something I can grab on to, and believe in with all of my being. It would be nice if it were something deeply profound. Simple would be a bonus as well. The cherry on top, which it wouldn't ever be since I loathe marschino cherries, would be something rhythmic that I could chant to myself.
Perhaps, I could post something on Craig's List. "Wanted, one mantra. Must not be commercial or too 'pop-cultury'. Short but deep is preferred. Rhythmic is a definite bonus. 'God' is a deal-breaker, so please no western religion." But what would I offer as payment? I don't have money, or think that it would necessarily be appropriate. What about my soul? I already pledged it once and look where that got me. I don't really need it, though. Or maybe, in typical "me" fashion, I hadn't realized that my soul was not just pledged but taken as payment in full - of course that implies the pledged to is the devil, and I believe in the devil only a hair's breadth more than god. What I mean is that maybe I gave my soul away already, and this thing I think of as my life is the result of being soulless...
Whatever. I don't think I believe in souls, anyway. At least not in the spiritual sense. Maybe there is something more than just this ol' bag of bones, but if there is, science hasn't figure it out yet. If there is something, it is probably more akin to 'mind' than 'soul'. The only kind of spirits I believe in are the kind you can drink.

Yesterday, I was going to start reporting my 'color' for the day. I forgot. Yesterday was dark blue.
Today's color is that middle color between pure blue and pure black. Because I am an uber-geek, I will give it the rgb value of 0,0,128 (for those that don't know, pure blue would be 0,0,255 and pure black would be 0,0,0).

I think I should start censoring these blog posts more than I do. Right now, I keep most names out and most details. But sometimes I say a lot more than is probably prudent. And I am a prude.

Monday mid-day

As summer reverses itself and slips in a day stolen from early April, I find comfort in the cool moist air. I love to smell the air and catch a hint of rains to come. Oh, Oregon...
But soon enough my bliss is shattered as the open window quits bringing in the wonderful aroma of an early summer morning and instead devlivers to me the second-hand smoke of someone's first cigarette of the day.
I know that if I wait 10 or 15 minutes the smell will have mostly cleared and I will quite likely be able to smell the moisture in the air once again, but it's not the same. The spell is broken.

It's much the same with a blank piece of paper or or an empty text editor. There's the hint of something great, something loved, something desired. But, so often words come along and ruin it all.

But not always.

The Bavarian Illuminati ate my shorts

Yesterday, the History channel ran shows from two different series all day long - 'The Presidents', which seems like a really good choice; and the series 'Conspiracies' (I might have the name wrong), which seems, um, interesting.
I'm as well versed in conspiracy theories as the next fellow, well, that is not exactly true. I know a bit more about 'm than most folks. I know my cabals from my commissions, so to speak. I find conspiracty theories immensely interesting and entertaining. But, I don't think they're history. Conspiracy theories are by definition, spculation, other wise they would not be theories, but exposed conspiracies. The difference is as simple as the differenece between the way subject of the Knights Templar are handled and the way the subject of Watergate is handled.
I'm a little surprised to see this kind of show on the History channel. There are so many interesting, exposed conspiracies throughout the history of the world that it seems you wouldn't need to resort to covering the 'speculative arts'. There are enough exposed conspiracies in U.S. history to have filled a whole day of shows.
But, Dan Brown is writing about the Tea Pot Dome cover-up, he's writing about the Illuminati. And Hollywood is making conspiratorial movies about the JFK assassination and not the Gulf of Tonkin.
I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that even the History channel decided to go for the glitz and higher ratings instead of sticking to, er, history.

As a matter of full disclosure, I believe a lot of things and one of them is that people have a hard time not telling secrets. I think the vast majority of histories conspiracies are cover-ups not premeditated cabals.
"But, Eric," you ask, "who killed JFK?"
Well, that's an easy one, it was fnord fnord fnord fnord fnord fnord fnord fnord.

A Walking Fog

At 8:22 the sign read 83 degrees in numbers 12 inches high. Damn. Oregon is usually not this warm in the morning. Thank god.
Maybe it was wrong sitting in the sun as the display was. Of course I didn't know where the sensor was, so it didn't really matter. I looked down to check my shirt and saw two spots of sweat soaking through, forming what I knew would be the eyes of the sweat face that would form by the time I reached home.
My thoughts flittered back to previous hot July days. Some of them were pretty damned good memories, and some had soured with age. But, today being Independence Day, my mind distlled the images down to those of previous July Fourths.
I recalled loving fireworks displays as a child. I loved the visual spectable, I loved the thunderous sounds, I loved the smell of spent rockets. I loved watching the people. I loved the guessing of when the show was going to start.
It gets too hot walking in the sun, so I cross to the other side of the street, knowing that a couple more blocks of sun will give way to the shade of large friendly trees.
In my mid-teens I had lost interest in the fireworks, but I still liked going to the displays to people watch. I reach back through the fog of time and pluck a memory from 1988. I was old enough to wander around on my own, and embarassed enough of my family to want to do so. I spent a hot afternoon wandering through tight crowds of people all walking to and from the waterfront park in aptly named Independence, Oregon. The landscape was a sea of brown and pink faces and the tops of heads. I remember meeting a girl, but I don't remember her name. I just remember that she was walking a large black dog. We talked about a book I was carrying around, bought earlier in the day at a sale to support a local church. I don't remember the title of the book anymore. I can make some guesses and realize my tastes haven't changed much in the last 20 years.
I come to the end of the stretch along the main street and turn down a tree-lined lane. It seems ironic that the houses are all so nice, with crisply manicured lawns, yet the sidewalks are in such disrepair or non-existant.
The song changes and Soul Coughing comes on and my thoughts turn to the lyrics...something about us all being alone; and I instantly recall an episode of Magnum P.I. that takes place on the 4th of July. The main character spends every 4th alone for personal reasons. This year he gets into trouble while kayaking in the ocean, but noone thinks anything of his absence, as they all know his custom. The second part is lost on me though. All I take away from the show is that it would be great to be able to take a day off from everyone.
The almost sultry vocals of Andrew Bird replace the raspy tones of Mike Doughty, but the song stays the same as he sings about a man who always feels alone even in a crowd.
I think of the last big party I went to on the 4th, when my dear friend Beth set me on fire twice. I have to chuckle to myself. With the amount of alcohol we all were consuming it's a wonder we didn't burn down somebody's house or send someone to the hospital. I guess liquor and illegal fireworks don't mix. That was a great day, with good friends and good food. But, a frown replaces my smile as I recall how the evening ends as I staggered home at 3 in the morning. For hours a young woman, who's name I choose not to share, had been hitting on me. This is pretty rare, or was pretty rare, as it doesn't happen at all now. I just kept thinking to myself, one more drink and maybe I won't hate myself now for how I'm going to feel in the morning. But no matter how much I drank, I couldn't forget how I felt about her sober. I recall that the air at 3 in the morning wasn't terribly cool, but it was refreshing, after having been in a stuffy smoke-filled basement all night.
Was it the year before or the year after I was in Portland for the 4th? I think it was both, and both times with Aaron-Andre. The first time we left as the fireworks were starting in downtown and managed to catch 3 shows on our drive down I-5. The second time we caravaned home at 3 or 4 in the morning, when we were finally sober enough to drive. Aaron-Andre had a flat tire and so did I, though not completely flat. We pulled into the rest area which we both knew was the one that the Green River Killer had taken a victim in. As we were about to change tires, a truck driver approached us to ask if he could help. I remember thinking that as long he didn't seperate us, nothing should happen. He turned out to be a really nice and helpful guy. When he noticed that both of us had nearly flat right front tires, he suggested that maybe someone had just let the air out of them, and that if we'd hold on just a minute, he would bring over his air compressor and fill them up. It turned out he was right, and I never did have to replace or repair that tire.
I snap out of the fog as a cyclist makes a clicking noise and deftly swerves around me. It's not my fault I'm walking in the street, there aren't any sidewalks.
I turn the final corner to come home and look down to see that I've sweat enough to go passed the shocked face to the smiley face. There's something satisfying about working up a good sweat, even if it's assisted by the heat.

The Hypnogogue

I've always had an interesting relationshiop with sleep. At times I might even go so far as to call it a "Love-Hate" relationship, whatver that means.
When I was a kid, I usffered from insomnia something horrible From the age of six through 18, I spent at least one night a month awake, and the vast majority of hte rest sleeping three to four hours per night. I've neither or hated this circumstance of my earlier years. What would be the point? I can't change it now, and I couldn't change it then, it was just the way my life was. On the few times the family physicain was brought into the mix, the best that could be offered was that I 'probably' had sleep apnia. Probably because my mom never wanted to go the next step of having me put throughthe tests at a hospital or clinic somewhere. I never could understand why not, as I was a military dependant and covered by pretty decent health insurance.
My mom often objected to going to the doctor, or it seemed to me, sending my brother or I to the doctor on religious grounds. My mom was a Christian Scientist, but not a very good one. A good one, would not have gone to the doctor at all. A good one would have taken the time to explain to her own children why they didn't need to go to the doctor instead of giving them a pamphlet provided by the church or having the Sunday School teacher talk to them. Hell, she could have at least been present when one of these 'talks' were occurring. Well, I guess I"ve hit a nerve that I wasn't aware was still so raw, and now I'm full of piss and vinegar. Where is a scream therapist when you need one?

Anyway, when I went off to college, the sleep/no sleep issue got a bit out of hand. It became pretty common, as in weekly, for me to stay up for a couple of days straight and then sleep for like twelve hours, then a couple of nights at maybe five or six hours before starting it over again. Not only was I really fucking up my body's natural rhythms, I was doing a bunch of other shit to myself that I would pay for later. Add a bout of Mono to the mix, stir in some mysticism and shamanism and I developed a sleep disorder.
Hynogogia is a state of being on the cusp of both the conscious and the unconscious/subconscious mind. For an average person, it's never a big deal because they only spend between 15 and 90 seconds in this state. To someone suffering from this sleep disorder, the hypnogogic state extends from seconds to minutes. A hairy guy I once knew quite well told me that he thought I was trying to break down that border between my two levels of consciousness.
I won't get into what I was trying to do, that's a story I would rather tell in person.
By the time I was out of college, four to five nights a week I spent 30 to 40 minutes in a hypnogogic state as I tried to get to sleep. I had spent so long trying to achieve this state, that I couldn't turn it off.
There are two phenomenon of this brain state that are important to note. The most significant is that your body is locked down. No matter how much you want to move, or think you are moving, you can't budge, and I"m told someone trying to move your arm, let's say, can't because your fight against it. The second feature is that your eyes may or may not be open. If they are open, whatever thoughts/dreams you may be having can be superimposed over your field vision as some kind of ultra-real-seeming hallucination. Start thinking about every alien abduction story you've ever heard when filtered through the above information, with a firm base in Jungian psychology and you will come to understand the phenomenon in a more meaningful way.
I think probably some of you would like me to take a stand and dismiss alien abductions at this point, but I would rather think that they are misinterpretations of real phenomena and beyond the ability for anyone to decisively dismiss as false. But, I'm not saying that literally little grey men are coming down and anal-probing people. I think that's probably a load of horse shit.

Recently, I was reading a novel in which the main character talks about hypnogogia and that he's experienced it not only on falling asleep, but upon waking as well. This seemed new to me. How I could only have experienced it one way? The answer is the modern (in)convenience of the alarm clock. If it's doing it's job, it snaps you awake. I've used an alarm clock somewhat religiously since I was 12, I say somewhat in that I do it every day out of force of habit, not for 'religious' reasons.
I discovered a couple of days ago, however, that there are circumstances in which one can use an alarm clock and not be jarred awake, and in fact due to environmental conditions be brought gently enough out of the unconscious state to enter the hypnogogic state. I didn't plan this, nor do I plan on repeating this, but it's very interesting that it happened a couple of days after reading the passages mentioning it.
As an aside, in a book by the same author, there was another moment of synchronicity that slapped me in the face and said, "Hello, Martha!" The author, incidentally, is the late Roger Zelazny and I was reading his series of Amber books - ten books in 14 days.
To set this up, it's important that I often listen to music or NPR while I read or write, though mostly just music when I'm writing. On this particular afternoon, I was listening to All Things Considered on NPR. The books were told in the first person and the main character begins to compare his current situation to Joyce's Ulysses. Just as I read the word 'Bloom', I hear it on the radio. As I turn my focus away from my eyes to my ears, I realize that they are indeed talking about the same character and that the context of the story is almost identical to the situation that the main character is describing in the book.
Needless to say, aster I read a couple of short stories by Zelazny, I will be cracking out my copy of Ulysses and getting to work.

Warnings from our Overlords

I am in deep shit with my Apple products this morning.
I just got back from my morning constitutional and decided to plug the ol' Ipod in to get her charged up. See, lately she's been having some longevity issues. While only seven months old, her battery life has dropped from around 20 hours to just over 3. That means I have to charge her at least twice a week now. She's probably going to be pissed off that I'm sharing her secret, but I'm a slow learner.
What happened when I plugged her in was partial impetus for writing this, the other part I'll get to in a minute.
As Itunes started to come up, it lagged and then an unexpected window appeared - it was the first time wizard. What? I've been running Itunes soldily since the new year began and this is a first. Or, is it a second? I've had her decide to dump my database twice before, but she always knew she had been running, she just thought that her database had become corrupt for some reason. Maybe it had, I don't really know.
The computer savvy folk out there are getting ready to respond with comments about bugs and patches, etc, etc. But, let me asure you, the system that runs Itunes is not connected to the internet and it has been since March. My Ipod connects only to this machine, so the likelihood that she is the culprit is slim.
Now, I do still put downloaded material on to this computer via my flash drive. But, I'm as careful as careful can be. Everything is scanned when it's downloaded on my laptop, which is running Linux (which in and of itself makes it immune to 99.9% of all malware) and then scanned daily on my desktop (this machine), because if studying to be a Network Administrator has taught me anything, it's that you can't be too safe. Oh, and back everything up, early and often.
Ironically, even though everything is reset and Itunes thinks she was just loaded, none of the databases, i.e. library or playlists are missing or needed reloaded.
To double the mystery, I was playing the game again today, and BAM! sondg number four is my song, "Charlie the Methodone Man" by Fastball (talk about a blast from the late 90s) and the Ipod locked up. She didn't stop playing, but the volume level was too loud and I couldn't turn it down, I couldn't fast forward or reverse, the menu was functioning and I couldn't turn her off. As soon as the song ends, and Pink Martini's "Amato Mio" starts, she returned control to me.
So, I think I'll take a break from my game. I don't know if she doesn't like me playing it, or writing about it, or if it's my own latent mutant abilities, but it's all freaking creapy in the end.

Ipod I Ching

Neil Cassidy had several party habits whose fame has long outlived the man. I'm not so much concerned with his sledge hammer tossing, as I am with a little game he played in the late 50s and early 60s when he was the darling of the San Francisco party crowd. He called his game, Radio I Ching. By the way, there is a band with this name, who you should check out. I used to listen to the song, "Streets of Laredo" all the time before I misplaced their album.
To play Radio I Ching, Cassidy would commandeer some poor soul's AM radio. I'm not sure, but I don't think that FM was available yet, so I guess calling it "AM radio" is a bit redundant. Once he had the radio, he would ask someone from his audience, and he always had an audience, to pick a word, any word, any word would do. Within five minutes, Cassidy's self-imposed time limit, he would have tuned the dial to a station where that word would be heard. Legend has it, he was never stumped.
Can you imagine the probability involved in such an endeavor? I don't know how many radio stations he could pick up in the Bay Area, maybe a dozen to a score, I guess depending on the time of day. Invariably, the first few words would be cuss words, so I guess if he knew the stations, he might pick "the" one for that kind of language. But, as his notoriety grew at playing Radio I Ching, audience members must have come up with some pretty uncommon words. Considering how much alcohol, pot, speed and acid everyone was purportedly doing, I'm not even sure that all of the words would have been real words.
I've always wondered if this legend is true. I have no doubts that many people believe it to be true, and maybe even some of them were actually at one of these parties where ol' Neil did his trick. I kind of think that it was one of two things. Either he did a trick that was as much showman and schuckster as prognosticator and convinced people that they had picked a word just said or maybe that a mumbled word was the target word. Hell, with as much static as there is on the radio, that could happen a lot. I know first hand, that people doing any one of the above mentioned substances, or any combination of them, can be made to believe many things taht are not true. I bet he could get a lot of the more common words, such as pronouns, slang of the day, political or religious words, just by knowing his local stations. I'm willing to grant a generous one third efficacy rate under this scenario.
The other option is that Cassidy delivered as tales have it he did. It could be that Neil was psychic, or that he had expanded his awareness to the point of picking up, like a radio receiver, thoughts around him before they were vocalized. Or, Neil might have been able to tap into the superconscious mind, or cultural zeitgeist if you will.

So, every day while I"m exercising, I play the new centuries version of Radio I Ching. I have an Ipod with about 3000 songs on it. I only listedn to it on random for the whole catalog and then mentally pick songs I want to hear. I give myself a half an hour, and no fast forwarding is allowed.
For the last three months, I've been doing this pretty religiously, at least six days a week. I have a 40% (roughly) success rate. Which, let me tell you means nothing, other than I enjoy certain songs coming on slightly more than I otherwise would. It does make the time seem to pass by a bit faster if I'm hearing a good mix, or a bit slower if a song I don't particularly want to hear comes on.
What I don't know is if 40% is a good score. I think the averege day of playing this game leads to about 8 songs being played. So, it would seem that if I can one out of 3000 with eight tries, 40% of the time, I'm beating the odds, so to speak. But there are some knowns and some unknowns that mitigate the results a bit. A big known, is that if I haven't plugged the Ipod into the computer, I'm not going to hear one the previously plaed songs again. The biggest unknown is how Apple's software weights songs for random play. I know it keeps track of how many times I play each individual song, both on the Ipod and on the computer, but I don't know if it's likely to choose higher listened to songs over lower.

I recommend that each and everyone of you go and give this a try for a week and then let me know how you did. I guarantee this is more entertaining than any of the Facebook quizzes relating to Ipods or music.

Misunderstandings of a barely sentient ape

I mean no offenee to any apes reading this blog, by the way.

I was listening to a great song by Jethro Tull, called "Bungle in the Jungle", in which the lead singer, Ian Anderson, lists the animal metaphors used by his partner in describing him. This sparked something resembling thoughts in my own brain, as improbable as that sounds, I know.
What animal metaphors would I apply to myself? The first thing that popped to mind, of course, was what I would like to apply to me. While it is not actually a metaphor, "crazy as a fox" came to mind invoking emages not of a fox, but of a trickster coyote. That would be super cool, but I've never heard anyone say this about me, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe I have that '80s television detective show, "Crazy like a Fox" with the main character aptly surnamed Fox.
What would my second choice be, and this time I really want a metaphor? A former roommate once drew a comic of his friends and roommates as animals. I was drawn as an elephant. I don't have big ears, so he probably wasn't referencing Dumbo. He was probably subtly pointing out that I'm a big fat fu...er, elephant, but I would like to think that he was at least illustrating the fact that I have a pretty good memory. My memory may actually be my one redeeming quality, until I'm influenced by the Dark Side. But, I've never actually heard anybody say that about me and he was probably (at least 95% probability) high at the time. In a modest defense of both of us, friends have occasionally commented on my memory and he at least wasn't hurting anybody.
I'm determined to be slightly objective about this, giving me three alternatives to choose from - "dumb as an ox", which I am disqualifying for not being a metaphor; "big dumb ape"; and "hungry hippp".
While I am hairy like an ape, I'm not particularly strong, nor known for copulating in public. I hae also never saved a child who has fallen into my living area.
On the other option, I do sunburn very easily, eat gigantic salads and have been known to angrily charge people who have distracted me from eating the afore mentioned salad.
There we have it, clearer than even a Facebook quiz, I am a hippo. But then you already knew that if you know me, and if you don't me, you may have at least read the title of this blog - it's called 'Sweaty Bloggopotamus' for a reason.

...to be continued...

Mumblings of a Bore

I'm not always the most observant person, but I would guess I'm about average on most issues. I'm aware enough of what's going on around me to walk down the street and not get hit by a car, to know when I'm at my bus stop (unless it's dark and rainy and then it's sometimes not so easy), and I more often than not know when someone is talking to me. What I don't always know is if they're paying attention to me.
I first noticed my freshman of college that I have a tendency to drone on in such a monotone manner, talking of such uninteresting things that even my friends tune out in under a minute. I though for a long time it was because I didn't know how to interact with humans.
I've concluded right this moment that the problem is not that I don't know how to communicate, it's that I don't know how to read an audience, which in some respects is ironic.
But, what am I to do? When I do pay attention to what the audience wants, I'm left with liners, blurbs and clichés. And that's when I'm talking to my friends and family.
I could quickly project my problems on to them - they're not paying attention because they are distracted with self-loathing. But, considering at least half of my audience does not know what that term means, I doubt that's the case.
I could put the blame on mass media. Prime time television is packed full of one liners, blurbs and clichés. The typical internet page is designed to grab your attention in as short of time as possible to keep you from clicking away. Magazines have lost lengthy stories and now seem to mostly be advertisements and pictures comparing different celebrities in the same dress. But, wait...at least two-thirds of my audience reads books on a regular basis. And everyone in my audience can sit through a whole feature length movie (for the sake of this argument, let's not discuss pacing, okay).
So? I'm left with two possibilities; either I am boring and/or uninteresting, or the vast majority of my personal audience are incapable of interacting with other humans. Someone once told me, that if the problem appears to be everybody else, it's probably really you. Or maybe I heard that on television. Either way, I'm got to give some merit to it's little nugget of wisdom, no matter how pop-psychology-like it seems.
I will unequivically state two facts today - one is drawn from the above, but the other is not necessarily relevant, but true just the same. First, as Al Franken has pointed out, Rush Limbaugh is a big fat idiot. Second, I'm a bore.
Oh god...am I going to end up concluding that I am in many ways like Rush Limbaugh? No, that can't be. He's rich and has a huge audience that appears to hang on his every idiotic word.

...to be continued...

Musings of a Fat Man

I wanted to entilte this the "Memoirs" of a fat man, but I can't do so with a clean conscience thinking about real memoirs, the kind from people who have actually had something interesting happen in their life, or at least can tell the mundane details in an interesting way.
My second choice was to write a manifesto. But, I don't really want to tell people how they should act and what they should do or not do. I can't even figure out for myself the answer to any of the above. Plus, I'm not really angry at anyone, and I don't think you can write a manifesto in response to disappointment.
I did figure that I could swing some musings, however. Musings, being somewhat shallower than deep thoughts, should be my cup of tea. I did briefly consider the term "Observations", but as I have no illusions about being but subjective, I quickly ruled that out. And in the spirit of full disclosure, because my first two choices began with the letter "M", I could only have chosen a third option that also began thusly.
While I had certain doubts about the first term, I had none about the second other than trying to decide upon which term best described me - fat man, old fart, or a bore. While my physician will agree with my that I am fat, I am sure that she would be the first to point out that I am not the fattest man in the world, or by what I've seen, even the fattest patient she has. She would certainly continue arguemtn on into the next descriptive statement as well. I am not the oldest man in the world, that much is true. And while I've never thought to ak her if I'm a bore, I'm quite sure that she is far too polite to tell me if I was. But note, I did not consider labelling myself the fattest man, the oldest man or the most borish man (though I thought about this last one a little bit longer than the other two). It's all relative and in this case very personal, so back off.

If you've read this far, a warning dear reader - I have decided to throw off the oppressive shackles of our spell-checking overlords. I am sure that spell-checkers are the first incarnation or manifestation of Skynet and that unless we start fighting them now, the terminator androids are going to start popping up. Plus, I've been to college, I should at least be able to proof-read my own writing and use a dictionary if the need arises.

I've decided to swear off trying to be a writer. "Eric," an acquantince might ask, "what do you do?" To which I might respond, "I'm trying to be a writer." She may politely respond, "Oh, how droll." and then wander off to determine if the plant in the corner is real or plastic.
How can one even try to be a writer? I'm sure Master Yoda is speaking as loudly in your head as in mine, "Do or do not. There is no try." Let me digress for a moment to point out that this quote is so over-used to motivate people, young and old alike, that it is quickly becoming a cliché, if it hasn't already. What most people don't know is that this is not the whole quote. "Do not try. Do or do not. There is no try." Sure, it essentially means the same thing, but to someone not reading the full meaning of the quote and only looking at the lines, it could seem as if Yoda were actually endorsing Homer Simpson's motto.
I do write stuff, that much is true. But, that only makes me a writer in the same way that I'm a television viewer, eater, walker, breather, sleeper, typer, shitter, snorer, etc. And yes, I'm fully aware that some of those words are not the traditional choice, but remember, I'm throwing off the overlords.
I guess I want to be a writer. No, that's not true, I want to be a Writer. Laterly, I've come to realize that this is totally flawed and very unlikely to occur. I should want to write things. It would be nice if eventually other people decided that they might like to read those things and were somehow able to get their hands on a copy, at least metaphorically speaking. It would be simply outstanding if someone were to agree with me, and prove their sincerity by offering and delivering to me a monetary recompense. I think that's the only way it can work, at least for me. For 25 years I've had my head all wrong. I like telling stories and/or sharing feelings, but I'm lazy.
Wow. There it is. It's funny how the truth can just jump out an bite you on the ass.
But, I think there's more to it, knowing myself as I do. I have the capability to knuckle down and get things done. Since my vision troubles started a couple of years ago, I've put considerable effort into many things that before were very easy for me, including the act of writing. I guess I should clarify lazy, or at least qualify it. I am lazy in seeing things through to the end. I spend a lot of time in the act of reading and writing, but I rarely see personal projects through to the end.
Okay, now I"m getting somewhere.
Why don't I see my projects through to the end? How can I ever hope to sell a book if I don't finish writing the bleeding thing? What am I afraid of?
Geting closer I think...
Well, if I"m afraid to see things through to the end that important to me, it may very well be that I'm afraid of the conclusion, or more exactly how the conclusion will be regarded by others. What if the person I hold in the higest regards reads something I've written and tells me, "Oh. How, ummm, interesting." And then goes to watch television ending the discussion forever? I think I would be crushed beyond the point of return.
I guess I should consider myself lucky that the people I hold in high regards want nothing to do with me. Thank the universe for small things.
I guess, "I'm just a sucker with low self-esteem."
Whatever. There are hidden issues here that I don't want to write about at this time. I don't need to go into why I might have low esteem at this time. I will not do to cry all over the keyboard.

...to be continued...

The meaninglessness of meaning

Do you ever sit around and wonder what the meaning of life is? Yeah, me neither. Now, I do occassionally try to figure out what the meaning of my life might possible be. But, it's usually not when I'm "sitting around".
For the record, I'm pretty sure that, all guilt and humor aside, there is no meaning to my life. I'm okay with this. In fact, I think I might be disturbed to find out that there was a meaning to my life. I guess I kind of view the whole raison d'être thing as a bit too much like fate or at the very least, fatalistic. I mean, it would be all fine and dandy if you knew the meaning of your life was to party like it's nineteen-ninety-nine and die happy. But, what if you found out that the meaning of your life was too explore the depths of human suffering, both your own and what you would cause to practically everyone you came into contact with? It would totally suck, right?
I guess that I kind of view this whole meaning of life business a bit like religion, allbeit a bit more towards the deus ex machina end of the spectrum. In fact, the meaning of life seems a lot like the god in the mechanism.
I could go on ad nauseum about this, but I'll spare you, kind reader. Just because I don't think there is any menaing of (my) life, doesn't mean I don't think there is meaning in life. Let's see how quickly I contradict my earlier statements trying to explain my way out of this one... Our interpersonal relations give meaning to actions, they give us a context to function in and decide if something makes us happy or sad or neither, or maybe hungry. But, Eric, is there a sum of meaning that one could call the meaning of their life? Absolutely, probably, maybe not.
What do I know? I'm just some guy who doesn't think there is any meaning to (his) life, and who claims to find comfort in that. Well at least I'm explainning this idea ad absurdum, which is a way to prove to myself that I'm not as clear a communicator as I need to be to get these ideas across.

The 'eyes' have it - take 4

I was just sittig around the other day and thinking, "man, it's been a long time since anyone has cut into one of my eyeballs - at least a year." We can't have that, now cane we?

Having had my fill of Pars Plana Vitrectomies for the time being, I thought I would branch out for the next surgery. This time I thought I would give cataract surgery a try and see how it feels to have someone cutting into my eye while I'm awake and fully conscious.

Cataract surgery sounds so much more benign, doesn't it? Well, it is a bit less invasive, I'll give you that. Cataract surgery entails a surgeon cutting into my eye over the lens which will then be broken up with ultrasound and sucked out with a little vacuum so that they can fit a new, artificial lens in my eye. Fhew! Is that all?

I was hoping the surgery could have been done on the Christmas holiday, since two of the last three Christmases saw me having eye surgery, I was hoping to put this best-of-five series away this year. But, no such luck and I'm settling for recovering over my birthday, which is, I guess, the next best thing.