I am lying to you 11.26.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

Overcome inertia. An attempt to leave the umbra toward light. End up in penumbra, antumbra, which might be worse. Just enough light to see what's eating at you. Semi-solid forms in mental fog. Character sketches, demon, angel, person, dog, demiurge, insect?

Darkness is the natural state of things, and all the light is an artificial construct. Even with infinitissimal points of willpower from which spark "let there be bullshit" and 130 billion galaxies 14 billion light years in any direction - this had to be done in the domain of darkness and whatever there first resided.

Greetings from the Mariana Trench. I'm in penumbra and antumbra - umbral waters are right over there, if you'd like to get some sleep (but here's a secret, you can get used to any amount of light or lack thereof with the right mindset). But in sleep you'll drift and end up in your own brilliance.

It's obvious, but I'll say it anyway, that we're in the state of the cream swirling in the coffee before it all solutes to whatever shade of safe and bland it will get. Inert. Entropy. Inertia? See, even black holes stop sucking after a while. That's a damn shame. What's gonna clean up the mess if this doesn't roll back in on itself? Maybe there is a universe devouring black hole - whatever that dark flow was scientists discovered and I talked about the other day. Good ol' Azathoth, ready to chew up and dispose of our grey waste.

Correlation to states of being in our particular vector folds of the lattice. None of us are completely inert - even the cadavers are decaying and the decomposition imbues direction. But, still overcoming inertia is always the hardest thing unless we've got something to spur us.

Why I am not creating things. Why I am not focusing whatever intelligence I possess toward artistic endeavors. Why it is easier for me to be entertained within the context of ideas and theory rather than my effort toward process and application. That I should hone to exacting precision the ideas and skills I express before I begin a project that should easily outlive myself.

There will be error, and I will be wrong, and certain things will not work well, and a lot of people will say, "rubbish", "trite", "contrived", "cliche", "pedestrian", "bourgeoisie", "hack", "hamfisted", etc...
And a lot of these people have somehow made it into my head before I've even gotten the project off the ground. Attempting abortion of unborn art.

But if I can bear it to fruition and let it go do what it will, I'll at least have done something - good, bad or ugly. And I can learn grace in answering inquiry. "It is what you make of it." I can say. "Whatever message you get is just as right as the one I tried to send, and, hopefully like a Venn diagram the two will find common grounds and it's in that spot where art has provided communion. Not discounting all the tangents that spark life in another's mind - that is incredibly important and a very good thing too as long as the audience really challenges itself - but when fractions of the artist's mind weave into that of the readers, there is something incredible there that I think every human longs to feel."

I think most artists have said these very things, and it's pretty well true. I just hope I can get just one graphic novel done (hopefully I would do more than just one). And maybe I wouldn't get too worked up about it after the fact and meet discussion about it with disdain. "I did a thing, and I thought it was good enough to share with others. Do you really need more information than what's been given?"

I don't often watch interviews with artists and directors. Talk shows or any of that shit. I just don't find it interesting to hear an artist talk at length about their work. Doesn't it already speak for itself? I suppose you could talk about method and technique, but I guess my whole point in all of this is:

Less talk about what I want to do and more action. - I have to keep my head on and focus.
______________________________________________________

New art supplies just came in the mail. I will get some time tomorrow to sit and sketch.
______________________________________________________

Also, holy fuck these people are killin' me today.
______________________________________________________

Word of the day:
Wow. I had never heard this word before. Thank you Merriam Webster.

hypaethral • ..hye-PEETH-rul.. • adjective

*1 : having a roofless central space

2 : open to the sky

Example Sentence:

During our tour of Egypt, we visited the hypaethral temple of Philae, which was dismantled and relocated after the construction of a dam caused its original site to be submersed.

Did you know?

Ancient Roman architect and engineer Vitruvius used the Latin word "hypaethrus" to describe temples in which the "cella" (the part of the temple housing an image of the deity) was wholly or partially uncovered. "Hypaethrus" is a word sculpted from the Greek prefix "hypo-," meaning "under or beneath," and the Greek word "aithēr," meaning "air or heaven." In the late-18th century, English classicists adopted the remodeled form "hypaethral" in their writings of ancient architecture. Another adjective that they occasionally employed is "cleithral," which designates temples having roofed central spaces. ("Cleithral" comes from "kleithra," the Greek word for "lattice.")
____________________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: Seven
artist: Sunny Day Real Estate
album: Diary

sew it on.
face the fool.
december's tragic drive
when time is poetry and
stolen the world outside
the waiting could crush my heart
the tide breaks a wave of fear
and brave songs disappear to the secret
voice of dawn this last time
raise my eyes.
you'll taste it in time
the right words in time.
the mirrors lie those aren't my eyes
destroy them raise my hand
reflected in savage
shards a new face a
soul reborn.

3:50 PM - 15 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.25.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

Oh man, this week is gonna be hell. I have got merchandise to move and display and constant leaves to pick up and everything must be swept and mopped and everything in the back is a wreck and how does it always stay like this even when I try to get things done everything is always scattered and dirty and oh fuck I'm not even using punctuation right now... AAAAAAAHAHHHHAHAHAHAHAA.

During the middle of all this hellish stuff is Thanks-taking. I like this holiday a lot better if I can get a couple shots of vodka or a couple glasses of wine in me before I visit the relatives, but I can't do that this year. I guess I'll just make up for it with being real slippery in conversation. Also, I'm cooking a couple of dishes, so suck on that.

Yes, I'm doing a turducken, but no, I am not frying the motherfucker. Last year I did one and it turned out soooo tasty, but the presentation was lacking.

If you don't know what a turducken is, it is a stuffed chicken, in a layer of stuffing, stuffed inside a duck, in a layer of stuffing, stuffed inside a turkey which is usually basted and then fried - I put ours on the smoker last year. Now, I realize you've gotta be careful about temperatures, but I kept it closer to the fire, but not so close that the birds would get all charred up and dry. I had it set in a foil pan and wrapped it in foil. My birds turned out moist as fuck, but the presentation was gruesome....

See, I started by de-boning the birds - which took me forever since I hadn't ever done it. I took my time and was careful because I wanted to keep them all intact, (as if they hadn't been de-boned at all). Well that was fine and I got everything stuffed and situated, but I had no butcher's twine with which to suture the turkey closed. I probably could have used fishing line, but I had concerns as to whether it would melt, or if it would be too sharp and cut through the flesh once everything cooked. My solution was grisly. I took a package or two of those metal skewers, punched them through and criss-crossed one another, then bent them such that they wouldn't stick out. For extra support I took shorter bamboo skewers and did something similar. The birds stayed shut, but it was hell trying to move them - especially when they had finished cooking. It all wanted to fall apart. This thing weighed around 25 lbs.

This year, I still don't have butcher's twine - maybe Brookshire's has some. I will check today. But I think I am going to streamline the process and employ my handy cleaver to take off the wings and legs, then run a small, sharp knife to free up the breasts. I'll then flatten them (maybe. I don't want to make the birds tougher and dry, even though I do use a lot of garlic butter to keep them moist.) and roll them up into a much nicer format. I have some concerns as to whether the rolled method will yeild enough product. I would try doing all of this tonight so that I will have time to get another set of birds if it won't be enough, but if I do this tonight they could turn a little rotten.

I am also making a big salad, and I might make some soup. That conssome was fun, and would be something different for everyone in our family - plus that would make it so that our dog's could have a thanksgiving too.
____________________________________________________

Elise pushes the cart through the detergent aisle, stops in front of the usual, but checks the prices - she'd go for the cheaper stuff, but Daniel fusses that he doesn't like the smell and it makes him itch. She remembers with a half contented sigh that they can easily afford the more expensive kind anyway, even without her working. And there it is again, the pervasive thought that won't release her, hasn't in over a year now - "What am I doing?"

Purpose. She can't believe that she's taking care of Daniel. In college he was able to handle himself just fine. She thought the existential debates in her head should be concluded at this point in her life, but there it is. Her previous job as a copy editor was fine, but there wasn't much satisfaction save when a quality project was set down before her.

Then, her daughter. She and Daniel had talked about it and decided that the time was right; he was making good money and they are both still young and could really put quality time and energy into raising a child. What is wrong with her, that she couldn't bear a child. Why, when there are so many born to mothers who can't care for them properly, mothers addicted to crack and meth and heroine? She'd done things so right in her life - her experimenting and rebelling a little in college never got to the point that it damaged her.

[note to self: refine existential internal dialogue for more effective illustration. Easier done with a more complete character sheet.]

Things are lifting off the shelves around her. The suspension of her thoughts reaching out around her removing the gravity. The exclamation of a few children and one startled mother bring her back, and everything thumps back onto the shelves. Elise and the mother pretend nothing happened, but the children, of course, want to know what was going on and is she a witch.

Witch. The word hits her like a falling piano in a cartoon. All the strings and plates WHANG with dischord. She doesn't bother with the grocery cart. She gets out of the store quickly as she can. Once in her vehicle she screams and sobs.
_________________________________________________

Word of the day:
litany • ..LIH-tuh-nee.. • noun

1 : a prayer consisting of a series of invocations and supplications by the leader with alternate responses by the congregation

2 a : a resonant or repetitive chant

*b : a usually lengthy recitation or enumeration

c : a sizable series or set

Example Sentence:

The student offered the usual litany of excuses for being late.

Did you know?

"Litany" came to English through Anglo-French and Late Latin, and ultimately from the Greek word "litaneia," meaning "entreaty." A "litany" refers literally to a type of prayer in which a series of lines are spoken alternately by a leader and a congregation. Recent decades have seen the development of three figurative senses. The chant-like quality of a literal litany led to the "repetitive chant" sense. Next, the repetitious nature of the original litany led to the "lengthy recitation" sense. Finally, the "lengthy recitation" sense led to the meaning "a sizable series or set."
_________________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: This Year
artist: The Mountain Goats
album: Come, Come to the Sunset Tree

I broke free on a Saturday morning
I put the pedal to the floor
Headed north on Mills Avenue
And listened to the engine roar.

My broken house behind me and good things ahead
A girl named Cathy wants a little of my time
Six cylinders underneath the hood, crashing and kicking
Ah-haa, listen to the engine whine!

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me

I played video games in a drunken haze
I was seventeen years young
Hurt my knuckles punching the machines
The taste of scotch rich on my tongue

And then Cathy showed up, and we hung out
Trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean
Locking eyes, holding hands
Twin high maintenance machines

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me

I drove home in the California dusk
I could feel the alcohol inside of me hum
Pictured the look on my stepfather's face
Ready for the bad things to come

I down shifted as I pulled into the driveway
The motor screaming out, stuck in second gear
The scene ends badly as you might imagine
In a cavalcade of anger and fear

There will be feasting and dancing in Jerusalem next year!

I am going to make it through this year if it kills me
I am going to make it through this year if it kills me

4:55 PM - 18 Comments - 11 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.21.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

I am sketching today. Not much really in my head for writing. No, these sketches aren't particularly good. Maybe when I get to the point where I've figured out the right features and proportions and am working on drawing those features from multiple perspectives I will scan and post them for you to see, but for now it's still kind of raw and fuzzy. I am trying to get it solidified in a somewhat realistic (I've never been terribly good at photorealism, mind you) fashion, and then back off it to a more stylized illustrated look. I need to figure out proper placement for my squiggles and line-work and exercise patience in stippling for filler and shading. I used to cut loose on artwork. I'm feeling it is possible to get back to that point... somewhere in the near future is that barrier and I am going to push through it.
_____________________________________________

Remember what I said a few weeks ago. If you're feeling confused and lost and can't seem to find answers anywhere - especially in archaic mythological musings touted as salvation, education science and technology as the end-all "ess muss sein", or even romanticized notions of love and family and friendship - it is ok. We are not stagnant creatures. It is our nature to create and progress. And though there may be nothing new under the sun, you're here and there hasn't ever been a person exactly like yourself and never will be again, so the way you present things to the world is unique to you - which is the source of our confusion in a cold, everchanging and pitiless existence - seeking communion, the desire to be understood and feel as if we are not alone. Though you may never figure out the real truth in why things exist ("why" or "why not", is this a good idea "yes" or "no" and we're stuck in the "maybe") * we can at least find a little solace and satisfaction in our moments and it MUST come from within your own self and be seen in the reflections of your work.

*this only applies to me at my discretion. If I am feeling altruistic or philanthropic, then that is fine, but if I'm in the throes of self-doubt/loathing and misanthropy, everything I said is bullshit. Ain't free will wonderful?
______________________________________________

Word of the day:
non sequitur • ..NAHN-SEK-wuh-ter.. • noun

1 : an inference that does not follow from the premises

*2 : a statement (as a response) that does not follow logically from or is not clearly related to anything previously said

Example Sentence:

Did you know?

In Latin, "non sequitur" means "it does not follow." The phrase was borrowed into English in the 1500s by people who made a formal study of logic. For them it meant a conclusion that does not follow from the statements that lead to it. But we now use "non sequitur" for any kind of statement that seems to come out of the blue. The Latin verb "sequi" ("to follow") has actually led the way for a number of English words. A "sequel" follows the original novel, film, or television show. Someone "obsequious" follows another about, flattering and fawning. And an action is often followed by its "consequence."
____________________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: Two Minute Itch
artist: Mr. T Experience
album: Milk, Milk, Lemonade

I live in a little hole with a color tv and remote control and it gets to me
forget the difference between the screen and me and me and the screen. I
think of you when I'm watching channel two but it takes too long to find out
there's nothing going on, so better do it baby as fast as you can cause I've
got a ten second attention span if I could get your skull in my vertical hold if
I could get my pause on your scenes from our last show I think of you when
I'm watching channel two then you start fading and I get so sick of waiting
baby baby baby baby baby Two Minute Itch two minute itch yeah now
listen to this and it's tough to turn away we set things up but the set won't
stay nothing now can make me change. I got a handgun for twenty bucks
from an offer on the back of a cereal box it's got a smurf trigger the bullets
are blue I hope I don't have to use it on you I know I'm crazy but I just want
something to happen baby I think of you cause what else am I supposed to
do two minute itch.

8:02 PM - 15 Comments - 11 Kudos - Add Comment

I got nothin’ done yet 11.20.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

Not much today. After I worked out and ran last night, my brain was a little frazzled. I did mull over some ideas while running, though.

Couple things:

Character Daniel is going to have cybernetic parts - probably something synthetic at first, but as the story and his research progress, the technology will become more integrated with an organic growth system - something along the lines of nanotechnology and nano-biological engineering.

However nice the organic systems will turn out in the long-term, the short-term, once Elise gets over her depression is - how much of his body is synthetic and whether or not she has crippled his dick and will they have a healthy sexual relationship. Probably not. If these characters are to be realistic, then I've gotta consider those strains.

The kind of level-headed woman Elise is doesn't completely agree with the bio-mechanical research on which Daniel works. She also happens to be a religious woman - which is another conflict with the stillbirth - so these things really don't sit too well with her. She learns to cope with Daniel's new body, but body-to-body intimacy I don't think will be possible for her.

Also, I'm trying to find a model or actress with enough free wide-range photo galleries available and who fits my image of Elise. I am thinking chestunut hair and grey eyes. Her features will be plain, but graceful. I've done a few meager sketches, but she's still not completely set. Getting her up off the ground and solidified in my head is imperative for this project.

Daniel shouldn't be too much a problem, however, I'm really going to have to look at synthetic limbs from science fiction and try to simplify the artwork.

I know this is a lot of work. I never had any illusions to the contrary. I need to figure out how to dilate time so that I will be able to do more within each pulse in the collective subjective cadence of time.

Also, I didn't know they had done this already, but a British scientist named Kevin Warwick did a sensory expansion (of sorts) experiment back in 2002. He had a 100 electrode array shot into the median nerve in his arm and this was connected to a small network. With this array, he was able to send signals to and control an intelligent robotic hand and a wheelchair. The guy has also done research on AI and other robotics. He's developed an algorithm to analyze current pop songs and develop new ones based on the characteristics of the analyzed data. I am making a note to read more about this dude.

Apparently, in the electrode array experiment his wife also participated. She had a few electrodes shot into her as well to see if they could "communicate" through sensory input/output through the array.
____________________________________________________

Word of the day:
for some reason or another, the second definition is kind of sexy.

gravid • ..GRAV-id.. • adjective

*1 : pregnant

2 : distended with or full of eggs

Example Sentence:

"The film is about the world of mixed martial arts, a subject gravid with possibilities." (Allen Barra, The New York Sun, April 29, 2008)

Did you know?

"Gravid" comes from Latin "gravis," meaning "heavy." It can refer to a female who is literally pregnant, and it also has the figurative meanings of "pregnant": "full or teeming" and "meaningful." Thus, a writer may be gravid with ideas as she sits down to write; a cloud may be gravid with rain; or a speaker may make a gravid pause before announcing his remarkable findings.
___________________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: The Model
artist: Belle and Sebastian
album: Fold your hands child, you walk like a peasant

I will confess to you
Because you made me think about the times
You turn the picture on to me and I'll turn over
The picture was a masterpiece of comic timing
But you wouldn't laugh at all
And I wonder what the boy was thinking
The picture was an old collage of something classical
The model with the tragic hair
Because without a doubt he'd given up the fight
The ghost of somebody at his side

I will confess to you
Because I didn't think about the message
As I walked down the alleyway it was a Sunday
And all my friends deserted me because you painted me
As the fraud I really was
And if you think you see with just your eyes you're mad
'Cause Lisa learned a lot from putting on a blindfold
When she knew she had been bad
She met another blind kid at a fancy dress
It was the best sex she ever had

I'll send a dress to you
Because it's needing badly taken in
But I was so embarressed that I missed your party
It was me that paid for it eventually
Because you know how much I wanted
To meet your friend the star of stage and local press
The dream of all the bowlie kids that hang around here
And I'm no different from the rest
I'm not too proud to say that I'm okay with
The girl next door who's famous for showing her chest

You're not impressed by me
But it's a funny way for you to tell me
A whisper in a choir stall
The man was talking about you simultaneously
Frankly, I let my heavy eyelids flutter
Because I have been sleeping badly lately
I know you were historical from all the books I've read
But I thought you could be bluffing
And with this chance I've missed I feel remiss
It's days and months before I see you again

7:55 PM - 16 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

I am working on lying to you 11.19.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

*This is something I'm working on. This is me fleshing out some characters. Since I normally just freewrite raw here anyway, I guess you get to read some of the boring parts of this story as I'm working through them. I want to save the good parts for the final piece - which will hopefully be an illustrated graphic novel. God help me, I just cannot shake the desire to make one. Someone lock me in a room for a few days with nothing but art supplies and tell me to get to work*

I can't stand to see her like this. Ever since our daughter...

Well... she just stares out the window. She will drink some coffee or tea, but she barely says a word. I hate leaving her so alone when I go to work. She quit her job over a year ago, and that was ok, because I can provide for the both of us, even with the medical bills. I'd suggest she go back to work, but I know she'd turn into a drone. Maybe coworkers could pull her out of this. I don't know.

Daniel leans against the kitchen counter; watches and contemplates his beloved Elise. He sips his coffee, (black with a little sugar) and remembers how she used to read the paper, jaw set tight as she worked the crossword. This woman used to be steel, cool and hard; would ring true if you struck against her.

He doesn't avert his gaze from her as he speaks, "Elise, dear, we're out of sugar. Could you pick some up at the store today?"

"Huh?" she stares at the birds in the backyard. A crickets legs dangling from a wren's mouth, and another wren tries and share the feast. She considers how insects don't care whether one another get devoured by birds. She knows now the bird will fly up to its nest and regurgitate half-digested cricket for her young. She wants to cry, but she's so dried up and Daniel's smooth voice in her ear brings her half-way back again.

"Sugar. Could you pick some up at the store, please?"

"Yes. Ok." She turns her head to look at him. He's been so calm and steady for her through all this. Darling Daniel. She tries to manifest a smile, but her mouth falls back in place as quickly as the corners of her lips lift. She can't manage teeth, but Daniel catches attempt. "Yeah. I'll pick some up."

He walks over and kisses her forehead. He'll be heading for work, and it's best not to get her worked up into a deep discussion before he leaves her alone for the day. As he kisses her, he feels gravity from the state of her inner sphere tug deliberate, as if it could compress him into her. Just like that day.

In the hospital the doctor and nurses got so quiet. Everything had gone so perfect until that point - a stillbirth - and how and why and oh god. There was so much crying. The doctors rushed into emergency procedures, but that was pointless.

I didn't leave her side for three whole days. I'm not sure either of us remembered to eat after we left the hospital. At some point I came to my senses, but she never really quite got out of it. It shattered her world, but it was not the end for me. I still had goals.

I knew the research I'd been working on could make this child live, but she would never go for it. She always had issues with my research, "You're playing god, you know. It's just not natural, Daniel. Nobody should be immortal like that. And wouldn't you be at the mercy of the companies who made your body?"

When I tried to say, something inside her just snapped... and in an instant I felt this force like gravity crush my legs and arms and chest. It's a wonder she didn't flat kill me. I, of course, had no qualms about some cybernetic upgrades to repair myself. I had been working on this stuff myself anyway, and knew the particulars of the technology.

I always told her that I made the body, which was mostly true, and I knew the men from the company... at least I could look them in the eye, where trying to reason peer-to-peer with god is impossible.

So I got a new body, and she felt too guilty to really object.

______________________________________________________

Ok. Some of you - Helm and Vortex, more specifically, have some long and involved blog posts up, and I flat-haven't had time to read them. I will try to get on that. Hopefully tomorrow. Stuff keeps getting piled up on me.
_______________________________________________________

Word of the day:

deportment • ..dih-PORT-munt.. ..:namespace prefix = v ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" />..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />• noun

: the manner in which one conducts oneself : behavior

Example Sentence:

The school expects students to dress in proper attire and maintain a respectful level of deportment throughout the day.

Did you know?

"Deportment" evolved from the verb "deport," meaning "to behave especially in accord with a code," which in turn came to us through Middle French from Latin "deportare," meaning "to carry away." (You may also know "deport" as a verb meaning "to send out of the country"; that sense is newer and is derived directly from Latin "deportare.") "Deportment" can simply refer to one's demeanor, or it can refer to behavior formed by breeding or training and often conforming to conventional rules of propriety: "Are you not gratified that I am so rapidly gaining correct ideas of female propriety and sedate deportment?" wrote 17-year-old Emily Dickinson to her brother Austin.
__________________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: From Here
artist: Jenny Owen Youngs
album: Batten the Hatches

Scrape you off the pavement
Just like I said I would
But I can't stand to watch the way
You break yourself against the ground
The things you are
The way you do
Shouldn't have a thing to do with anyone but you
And it may be that things in your life
Are coming in too clear
Go ahead, do the right thing
And I'll just watch from here

You're bangin' on my screen door
Lookin' for the scraps
Any little piece of me
Anything that you can have
We'll I'm so sorry
I'm so wrong
I don't have
A thing you want
And it may be that things in your life
Are coming in too clear
Go ahead, do the right thing
And I'll just watch from here

I'm not the girl you think you saw
Poppin' my knuckles just waitin' to fall
And it may be that things in your life
Are coming in too clear
Go ahead, do the right thing
And I'll just watch from here

6:16 AM - 19 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.18.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

Gravity is so natural. I don't know why scientists have struggled with it for years. Truss it up like it's sposda be difficult. Gravity is just everything coming back together. Lie down and be in it. Feel how anything large enough will warp and dilate the lattice. What we call weight. Wait. And thoughts can be just as heavy, but to writhe in them, saturate, and you'll hum, buzz, weightless. Overcome the inertia and understand that it is all just one thing.

Like time is an illusion. Nothing ever happened. Just as objects seem to be solid. Existing as if atoms and molecules and quantum particles are singular things - nope - really, they're semisolid spheres, fields of probability. The universe is the same as a quantum field. Everything telescopes and expands and folds back in. The way we see, they look one way, but they are really a lot of other ways too. Elseways. In sundry dimensions. Everything is oragami to be unfolded. Just like a person is a body and a brain, but things like character and reasoning and memory are of intangible essences and we can't quantify or qualify. Nothing ever happened. So much is intangible. An infinitely self-replicating daimond dekeract which tesselates, but the only discernment from one facet to the next is within subjective perspective.

So a supervillain only ever constructs the doomsday device as a means to some other end. You can always call a villain's bluff (though the hero usually just pummels or foils as if the villain isn't bluffing - gotta make the hero look good and compelling and keep the audience biting their nails). The villain wants money or power - and the reason we don't have villains is they already own all the stocks and private lending banks - and the reason we don't have heros is to remove the villains would be to collapse convenience down onto all the frightened masses we wish to protect.

The real agents of change are the supervillains that don't give a shit about money or power. The ones who want to fuck shit up. They begin as villains when the doomsday plans and devices strip everyone bare to stark essentials nothing to distract and comfort from personal responsibilities. By the end of the story the villain becomes the hero.
_______________________________________________

Word of the day:

prehension • ..pree-HEN-shun.. • noun

*1 : the act of taking hold, seizing, or grasping

2 : mental understanding : comprehension

3 : apprehension by the senses

Example Sentence:

Did you know?

It's easy to grasp the origins of "prehension" -- it descends from the Latin verb "prehendere," which means "to seize" or "to grasp." Other descendants of "prehendere" in English include "apprehend," "comprehend" ("to grasp the nature or significance of"), "prehensile" ("adapted for seizing or grasping"), "prison," "reprise," and "reprisal." Even the English word "get" comes to us from the same ancient root that led to the Latin "prehendere."

_____________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: Back in Time
artist: Au Revoir Simone
album: Verses of Comfort, Assurance, & Salvation

Do you think (When you know you know it)
If we could go back in time (When you know you know it)
Do you think (Listen now, listen now)
That I'd like you then (I will look for you there)

Would you try (when you see, you see it)
Not to be so mean (when you see, you see it)
And we'd ne- (Won't be long, it won't be long)
-ver just be friends (I will wait for you there)

Do you think (When you know you know it)
If we could go back in time (When you know you know it)
Do you think (Listen now, listen now)
That I liked you there (I will look for you there)

Won't you try (when you see, you see it)
Not to be so mean (when you see, you see it)
And we're now (Won't be long, it won't be long)
For just be friends (I will wait for you there)

There are times that I
Felt that this was right
There are times that I
Felt that this was right

Why do you think
This will never work
Why do you think
This will never work

4:04 PM - 24 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.14.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

(ok, substitute the personal aspects of this such that it applies to the world and you've got a doomsday blog. Hoo-ray!)

Unsure confusement. I rake talons against my carapace. I am encased, but parts are exposed like a tortoise, and anything exposed stings and burns. How long before I tear everything completely apart and stand stark and naked and vulnerable so that I will be forced to do whatever it is I need to do, and form skin thickened through years of grinding toward acomplishment instead of callow construct carapace? 

I feel tattered and have shored my legs up to stand rickety. Movement in any direction is arduous. Overcoming inertia is the hardest part of anything. Focusing my brain and sticking with it long enough to stride is more difficult now that I have so many distractions. Keeping up with all the things I am supposed to do and goals like career and money and a house and, you know, responsibility and obligation; it's so much easier to bullshit and write some half-assed blog than to dig deep and hash out an interesting story or essay, to draw or paint, to study digital media, to re-learn how to play my bass guitar, to read up on scientific discoveries and form my own postulations concerning them - I have television and video games that I want to play. There is porn and I work out to feel better and it is a kind of accomplishment, but it is a temporary satisfaction - at least I can't turn to drugs for the time being.

I am a fucking ghost, haunting this creature. When I calm shit down and focus, I get a sense of my body as an organism in its own right. Without my will guiding it would eat, sleep, and fuck as it requires. I should meditate in the morning rather than at night because I have the tendency to fall asleep - exhaustion from a good work-out - but waking up in the morning is animating my corpse. I can sympathize with Cthulhu dead but dreaming in his house in the Mariana Trench. I sleep like an Ancient one and crust of the earth must be wiped from the corner of my eyes. The lids split like an earthquake and my eyes are erupting caldera hate[full], fiery and I need to pound my body against anything in sight to loosen the sleep from deep within tissue and bone.

It's a disgrace. 25. No long-term employment, no real prospects, and no solid idea what I'm gonna do. Two arrests on my record. Still living with my parents. The things I loved most about myself I have pretty much ignored and can't seem to get back to them like I used to. I guess maybe I've changed and should embrace the things in which I take interest now, but there's that voice in my head always.

I need to discipline and motivate myself, but I am really good at nihilistic rationalization. "I will not amount to anything. I might as well just get a job that pays bills and live a life and drink beer and watch t.v. at night. I can be numb and it will be ok, because nothing more is really required of me - nor would I want that kind of pressure anyway" - hence I do not build myself up and fake humility before people about my talents - I hate trying to live up to the expectations of others, because lord knows try not to have expectations of my own - and I do not lie to women about my potential as a partner, because they will quickly discover I have too much quit in me.

And don't try to bring me up. I'm not depressed. Don't cheer me on with those "you can do it. you are smart and talented and stuff" affirmations. I am just writing this because I feel tattered and I kind of want to share what goes through my head. It's a despair that threatens to crush, but I'm pretty slippery. I won't stay in any one frame of mind long enough to truly be affected. I just want you to know how I feel and what I am thinking and why I can't seem to write or draw anything fun for you today. Maybe tonight after I exhaust myself from working out and meditate until I nearly sleep and my eyes burn? Maybe tomorrow after work, after I wash my car and figure out whether or not I have plans to go out with people - maybe there will be enough time to do something then. Sunday is probably the best prospect. I should prepare something to force myself into doing things that I really do want to do, but my own self-doubt and laziness and fear of failure keep me heading toward distractions like youtube and t.v. and video games and myspace surveys. I have books to read and things in my head which could come out if I'd do a little fucking work.

Can you hear the whips I am lashing against my own back?

I guess what I need is someone to straight-talk me, "Look, dude. You need to do _______, because you are good at it and you will enjoy it and you will be satisfied and it will afford you enough pay/benefits to sustain yourself and possibly a family." I am probably the person that is supposed to figure that out and say it to myself, but I can't seem to pin down a well-developed answer on anything or suspend my disbelief or skepticism long enough to begin overcoming inertia. I've folded in on myself and suffered consequences so many times that I am very pensive about my own abilities - and there is always my awareness of how lazy I really am.

So, there you go. This is me every morning staring myself in the mirror and semi-sneering and bascially saying "Fuck you. You are shit." so that no matter how much I fail through the day, maybe I won't further disappoint myself.
___________________________________________________

Word of the day:

circumspect • ..SER-kum-spekt.. • adjective

: careful to consider all circumstances and possible consequences : prudent

Example Sentence:

Did you know?

7:32 PM - 23 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.13.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

I am going to share with you a short story that I really like.

Just so we are clear: I DID NOT WRITE THIS I DID NOT WRITE THIS I DID NOT WRITE THIS

The author is Joey Comeau of A Softer World

3:31 PM - 17 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.12.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

Apparently, some scientists have discovered the work of Azathoth.

What these scientists have discovered is a uniform motion of galaxy clusters toward a 20 degree area of the sky. These clusters are supposed to be dispersed in a more "random" array - (yeah, right. There is order in the way a thing explodes, but we can't quite see the order because keeping track of every particle is not yet within our means. We can only predict.)

Anyway, yeah, these clusters are moving at two million mph toward a part of the sky where something they postulate is pulling from beyond the observable universe. This motion is not the same as the outward expansion of the universe - which is believed to be accelerated by dark energy. The scientists say that this velocity is very distinct and doesn't diminish with distance. They claim that the forces at work don't match anything within the observable universe.

The observable universe is defined basically as how far the universe has expanded - for instance, if it is 13.7 billion years old, the farthest star will be 13.7 billion years out - that is the edge of the observable universe. There are things beyond that point, sure, and we don't know exactly what is out there. This is where we get into the territory of multiple universes; and the reason I claim that we are akin to mitochondria in a skin cell on god's ass.

Which leads to some questions like - what if it is the collapse of another universe tugging on parts of ours? Given that existence seems to be telescoping in nature, wouldn't it stand to reason that a universe, like a sun, could collapse in on itself and form a black hole? Maybe it is a large chunk of a universe that gathered and cooled a certain way to form a kind of super-massive planet wouldn't give off enough light of its own to be seen with our technology. Maybe it's supermassive star that we just haven't been able to see yet, (possibly due to ambient starlight in our own universe) but it is big enough to pull... possibly due to a difference in the way forces act inside our bubble as opposed to outside. Whatever it is, it is more massive than anything we've observed in our own universe - including the theoretical supermassive black holes at the center of galaxies and probably at the center of our universe.

Maybe we're also getting into territory where theoretic dimensions come into play.

Maybe it's really just good ol' Azathoth gnawing hungrily.

Azathoth - "[O]utside the ordered universe [is] that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes." - "The Dream Quest of Uknown Kadath", H. P. Lovecraft.

Don't get multiple universes confused with extra dimensions. Classical dimensions are height, width and depth -3 dimensions. 4th dimension is time. Dimensions beyond that are more abstract ideas of space which happen to pop up in physics equations. Some quantum theories postulate that these extra dimensions are folded up within quantum areas - I guess in the vibration of the boson fields or some such. Dimensions in geometry might help show that, but keep in mind that 4th dimension in geometry is not time (because geometry doesn't waste energy on impractical philosophical concepts.)

Here's a four-dimensional object from geometry, the tesseract:



Now, the tesseract is fairly easy to wrap your head around because it is a regular polytope. When you start getting into irregular tetrahedrons and polyhedrons, tetra and polytopes, etc, the vector coordinates become tricky - especially if the shape curves - it is harder to tesselate, rotate or revolve in your head because of their non-uniform planes.

Anyway, I guess I've gotten a little off point, if I originally had one, I don't know. While writing this I had two calls - one from a lady who wants kerosene and she will send two ladies to come and pick it up. She wants three gallons and she will send them the money so that they can pick up the kerosene and she wants a reciept and how much is it a gallon? And am I open tomorrow and what are the hours. And she will send two ladies up to the store to get 3 gallons of kerosene and she will want a reciept and thank you and you're welcome. And another man calls about the brochure we had given him two years ago concerning ice cream freezers and had we tried the advertised powder and how did it work, but I don't know about it, because we have our own recipe that we make and he does too but he wanted to know about the powder.

So something beyond our universe is pulling entire galaxies and it could be Azathoth, which could be thought of as an amorphous irregular 10 demicube of unknowable size, where not only do the parallel lines curve to intersect, but the very vectors themselves do as well - remembering in reverse and chewing up ideas into un-ideas and maybe it was a metaphor for a black hole, where dimensions are possibly compressed from 11-13 (whatever the case may really be) down to two or even one, into a folded singularity.

I guess thinking of this thing is like being in a bubble down in the Mariana Trench where it is too dark to see what is outside of the bubble. We know the way things act within the bubble. There are physical forces and laws, but outside of the bubble is water - and things act differently in water, and there are leviathans to swallow us.

And there are monsters within the quantum folds, just as is within the space of our universe - which looks and acts empty but really isn't - and there are monsters outside of this, and if you keep unfolding dimensions and existences you get an infinite superimposed lotus which tesselates seemingly irregular along infinite vectors and it is so full that there's not distinction between any one thing and the next. It's a lattice, it's a weave, and it hums and vibrates.

And, yes, I know I always bring it back to this. It is me trying to remind myself that shit is going to be alright. Even if a boogey demon from beyond space and time is trying to eat us.

And I like to think these boogey demons live in each and every one of us. What does your inner dimension look like? How about a maelstrom of tendrils like ink and ghost clouds sucking and pulling and a bright silver sphere reigning from the center that is full of good intentions regardless of the destruction wrought by the baser desires.

God damn, I need something practical on which to focus.

Lunch.
___________________________________________________

Word of the day:

elu·ci·date

circa 1568

transitive verb : to make lucid especially by explanation or analysis <elucidate a text> intransitive verb : to give a clarifying explanation

synonyms see explain

— elu·ci·da·tion ..-ˌlü-sə-ˈdā-shən.. noun

— elu·ci·da·tive ..-ˈlü-sə-ˌdā-tiv.. adjective

— elu·ci·da·tor ..-ˌdā-tər.. noun
_______________________________________________

Song of the day:

title: Four Winds
artist: Bright Eyes
album: Cassadaga

Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe
There's people always dying trying to keep them alive
There are bodies decomposing in containers tonight
In an abandoned building where
A squatter's made a mural of a Mexican girl
With fifteen cans of spray paint in a chemical swirl
She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world
Four winds blowing through her hair

But when great Satan's gone, the whore of Babylon
She just can't sustain the pressure where it's placed
She caves

The Bible's blind, the Torah's deaf, the Qur'an is mute
If you burned them all together you'd be close to the truth still
They're poring over Sanskrit under Ivy League moons
While shadows lengthen in the sun
Cast on a school of meditation built to soften the times
And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds
It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines
Four winds cry until it comes

And it's the sum of man
Slouching towards Bethlehem
A heart just can't contain all of that empty space
It breaks, it breaks, it breaks

Well, I went back to my rented Cadillac and company jet
Like a newly orphaned refugee, retracing my steps
All the way to Cassadaga to commune with the dead
They said, "You'd better look alive"
And I was off to old Dakota where a genocide sleeps
In the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east
I buried my ballast, I made my peace
Heard four winds leveling the pines

But when great Satan's gone, the whore of Babylon
She just can't remain with all that outer space
She breaks, she breaks, she caves, she caves .. -->ringtones and media links -->


Your class, your caste, your country, sect, your name or your tribe
There's people always dying trying to keep them alive
There are bodies decomposing in containers tonight
In an abandoned building where
A squatter's made a mural of a Mexican girl
With fifteen cans of spray paint in a chemical swirl
She's standing in the ashes at the end of the world
Four winds blowing through her hair

But when great Satan's gone, the whore of Babylon
She just can't sustain the pressure where it's placed
She caves

The Bible's blind, the Torah's deaf, the Qur'an is mute
If you burned them all together you'd be close to the truth still
They're poring over Sanskrit under Ivy League moons
While shadows lengthen in the sun
Cast on a school of meditation built to soften the times
And hold us at the center while the spiral unwinds
It's knocking over fences, crossing property lines
Four winds cry until it comes

And it's the sum of man
Slouching towards Bethlehem
A heart just can't contain all of that empty space
It breaks, it breaks, it breaks

Well, I went back to my rented Cadillac and company jet
Like a newly orphaned refugee, retracing my steps
All the way to Cassadaga to commune with the dead
They said, "You'd better look alive"
And I was off to old Dakota where a genocide sleeps
In the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east
I buried my ballast, I made my peace
Heard four winds leveling the pines

But when great Satan's gone, the whore of Babylon
She just can't remain with all that outer space
She breaks, she breaks, she caves, she caves

3:23 PM - 20 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

I am lying to you 11.11.08
Current mood: horny
Category: Blogging

Oh my, it's 11.11, and at 11:11 am and pm, you should make wishes, cause they will most certainly come true, you know.

I don't know what to wish for, really. How about a solid idea for where I think I belong and what I need to do - and a shove in that direction to get my feet moving. That is probably the best thing I could wish for. Otherwise I could wish for material things or girls or something, but that would be ultimately dissatisfying if I still ain't sure what to do.

A job that makes good money is nice, but ultimately I'd have to do something where I feel I'm making some kind of difference. If money were no object, I'd have an art and music production studio and gallery/concert hall. That is just what I'd do. Help the young artists do their thing.
____________________________________________

Tech stuff.

I am going to preface this section by first saying: fuck off Mac yuppets. I won't switch to the dark side. There's something about mac products (ipods and iphones and imacs) that turns their users into douchebags with an undeserved elitist posturing.

That all having been said - Vista is like Windows ME all over again - if anyone else was unfortunate enough to have dealt with ME, you know what I'm talking about here.

I love the way Vista looks, BUT - when I have 4 gigs of ddr2 sdram (only 3.25 will really register in a system, though) and the o/s is sucking down a third of that power through just average computing (a couple of instant messengers, and maybe a word file and internet browser open) that is fucking ridiculous. There is no reason for an operating system to chew up over a gig of system memory.

On top of that, I've found a few games and applications that won't run on Vista, but worked just fine on XP.

And the icing on the cake is blue screens. FOR NO REASON. I get blue screens.

Why do I have Vista? Because they wanted to charge another $150-$200 to downgrade to XP when I bought my new computer. "Fuck that. I will just switch to xp myself. I still have a product key." - wrong.

I begin the arduous process last night... but after deleting the partition and creating an o/s partition and formatting - the system reboots, and normally it should begin the XP installation/setup. Nope. Vista pops up like nothing ever happened.

I talk to my friend Jared who is an IT guy. He tells me to make sure RAID is disabled and IDE is enabled and all that in the BIOS. Stuff looks good. Try again, with no luck.

"Oh yeah." he says, "Vista has built-in SATA drivers, you're gonna have to create a whole new boot disk with the right SATA drivers for your hardware."

Fucking fantastic. Now I get to read up on how to do all that. Turns out, I can't find the SATA drivers for my model of computer - but there are for similar models. Maybe they will work. I don't know. I am going to give it a shot.

He told me to suck up, be a man, and switch to Linux. I might just do it, once I learn how to deal with open source and what-not.

All I know is, for now, I really want XP Pro with service pack 3 back on my home 'puter. You know, for all of you who have Vista and like the way it looks, you can make xp look very similar - and it will be more stable, with almost half the processes. I dunno.
_________________________________________

Sorry, I don't have anything real creative today. Maybe I'll get that to you tomorrow.
_________________________________________

Word of the day:  I really cannot look at this word and set its definition correctly in my head. I just keep thinking of sabotage with a cabbage. Fuck.

cabotage • ..KAB-uh-tahzh.. • noun

1 : trade or transport in coastal waters or airspace or between two points within a country

*2 : the right to engage in coastal trade or transport

Example Sentence:

Did you know?

3:54 PM - 18 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment