Uncle Bunny's Book of Shadows

Letter From the Future

2008-11-13T10:47:00.000-08:00

Hey Big Chief,

It's good to have you two back. Hope you had a blast on your honeymoon in Mexico. It's, uh, been a while. Actually it's been longer than you know. Are you sitting down?

I've been chosen by Operation Brightside to be the Administrator for you and Katie's Adjustment Plan. I was chosen for my stoicism and stability to help you through what may be a difficult time for the two of you. Some things have changed since you've been away. It's probably better if I start from the beginning.

Do you remember hearing about the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva? Scientists there were going to try and duplicate conditions similar to the Big Bang, basically "just to see." There was a lot of speculation that they would, among other things, create a black hole or some other rift in the space/time continuum. They faced everything from lawsuits to death threats to get them to cancel their proposed experimentation.

The first experiment was to take place on Wednesday, September 10, 2008. I know. This Wednesday? you're thinking. Just bear with me a moment. Determined to carry out their plans with less publicity, they ran their first test on Sunday, September 7. Yesterday, right? What ended up happening, well, it wasn't the doomsday scenario that some had predicted, but it was fairly serious in it's own right.

They're calling it a Temporal Ripple. The Ripple only seemed to affect matter in a sort of sphere around the planet, a shell beginning 32,000 feet above the surface and ending at about 40,000 feet. Exactly the airspace that commercial airliners occupy. I know you, and I think you can guess where I'm going with this, right?

Well, your returning flight was one of many that was affected. For you, the flight probably seemed pretty normal. Maybe a little turbulence, but nothing out of the ordinary. For us? Well, many hundreds of aircraft disappeared on that long ago night. Only in the last month or two have they started to return. Flights that were physically closer to the Collider returning sooner than, for example, your flight.

How long were you away? Well, let's save an exact number for when we meet for drinks. Every effort was made to make your arrival back in St. Louis appear exactly as it would have if nothing unusual had happened. Right now, for example, your net is showing you information as it appeared back when you should have returned. Operation Brightside's doing, though I can't say I 100% agree with all their methods. The city around you should appear almost exactly as you left it, also OB's doing through their Preservation/Restoration program.

Hmm. Trying to bring you up to speed. Obama won the election, served two terms, and was so successful and popular that he was named President for Life at the end of his second term. No one complained much, actually. Just a few wingnuts who have since been relocated.

Remember how you had that thing about how Zoe Samways was going to lead us out of darkness? Well, you weren't far off. About a year after you left, she went through the usual round of childhood diseases. Totally normal. However, she was only showing symptoms for each ailment for about 12 hours. When her chicken pox blisters started drying up almost as soon as they appeared, Theresa and Damien were thrilled, of course, but also realized how strange it was.

Doctors didn't realize what they were witnessing at first. Seems that Zoe's body was somehow emptying out viruses of their DNA/RNA, refilling them with her own "codes," and sending them on their way, this time "infecting" her and those around her with good health, excellent eyesight, sometimes even red hair!

When scientists got their wits about them (Damien himself was a lead researcher) they were led to a new understanding of genetics, and also suddenly possessed the means of ending many of humanity's ailments. They also came away with the means to boost existing human abilities and traits. It's been a long, exciting journey for all of us!

Along with this exciting new field came the perfection of cloning, and the ability to "infect" the clone with the previous memories of the original organism. In fact, the word "clone" has fallen out of fashion, "ghola," in tribute to Frank Herbert's vision from his Dune books, is now the term of choice. Your pets have been prepared for you to be the same approximate age they were when you left. Amazing, isn't it? Give little 12-Bella a scratch behind the ears for me.

What else? The "internet" has changed quite a bit. I think you'll be excited about it. Let me just say that you two will need to be grown some stem-cell ports to access the new net.

So, let's meet up! Sometime this week? We'll go to Old Mangia in what is now Restored South City. It should look just the same, if not better, than when you left. Last time 5-Jen and I were there, there was still a Bridget working there. I think it's 14-Bridget. The Bridgets tend to get a little reckless in their 30's, and are prone to "accidents," so there's been many generations. I think it's still only 3-Jim though, and yes, it's still stormy between those two!

We've got a lot to catch up on. Hope to see you soon,

5-Jason

Adjustment Admin.

Operation Brightside

Linkbloggin' w Unkie Bunny (now with embeds!)

2008-02-24T14:46:00.000-08:00

You want links? I got links:

- Stuff White People Like, my new favorite blog. Not only funny, but so accurate that it made me feel kind of guilty. Made me want to stop liking some things that I like just so I couldn't be so accurately pinned down. But then it occurred to me that wanting to feel unique and un-pinned-down is another Thing that White People Like.

A sample from #67 Standing Still at Concerts:

. . .when white people go to concerts at smaller venues, what to do they do? They stand still! This is an important part of white concert going as it enables you to focus on the music, and it will prevent drawing excess attention to you. Remember, at a concert everyone is watching you just waiting for you to try to start dancing. Then they will make fun of you.

- I found out about Desktop Tower Defense about a year ago, and every couple of months I rediscover it and waste frightening amounts of time playing. Waves of enemies try to get from one side of your desk to another while you build a maze of upgradeable weapon towers to slow them down and stop them. Simple and fun and very, very addictive. Tip: Last upgrade pays for all.

- Sushi Go Round also keeps me amused, like the cocaine monkey pulling the cocaine lever over and over and over.

- Mushroom Life is relaxing, and will make you feel smart by doing very little.

- yugop.com has been around for a while, is very cool, and is hard to describe. "Yugo Nakamura is a creative director, designer and engineer exploring various forms of interactive system in digital and networked environment," says the About. The menu is in the lower lefthand corner, along with tiny instructions for each . . . thing. Be sure to check out the archives. Lots of cool stuff in there.

- ˙ʎʇıunʇɹoddo pooƃ ɐ ǝʞıl sɯǝǝs sıɥʇ ˙ʇı punoɟ ı ǝɔuıs ʇı pǝsn ʎllɐǝɹ ʇ,uǝʌɐɥ puɐ 'ǝƃɐd sıɥʇ ʇnoqɐ ʇoƃɹoɟ ʎllɐʇoʇ ı

- Hikaru dorodango from the About page: "Hikaru dorodango are balls of mud, molded by hand into perfect spheres, dried, and polished to an unbelievable luster. The process is simple, but the result makes it seem like alchemy." A site about this pastime of Japanese children with a gallery and instructions for making your own.

I love Robot Chicken. I think I've sent this one, The Death of He-Man, to about everyone I know already, but here it is again:

On a related note:

Alright, just one more and then I'm out:

Indiscipline

2008-02-20T21:10:00.000-08:00

Below are the lyrics to King Crimson's Indiscipline, which are ringing really true right now.

I do remember one thing.
It took hours and hours but..
by the time I was done with it,
I was so involved, I didn't know what to think.
I carried it around with me for days and days..
playing little games
like not looking at it for a whole day
and then.. looking at it.
to see if I still liked it.
I did.

I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat..
The more I look at it,
the more I like it.
I do think it's good.
The fact is..
no matter how closely I study it,
no matter how I take it apart,
no matter how I break it down,
It remains consistent.
I wish you were here to see it.

I like it.

Success!

2008-02-17T14:22:00.001-08:00

I've been trying, for about a month now, to teach one of the autistic guys that I work with to say, "We're gonna turn this mother out!" When he (I'll call him "Mr. D") first started with us, he brought a handful of idioms with him, most notably: "I'm gonna work you to death," used when he's feeling particularly energetic, and "We've gotta play it by ear," used when the outcome of any given situation is uncertain.

Mr. D's picked up, from some of the other "normal functioning" employees there, a handful of other metaphoric expressions. "We gotta get up outta this hole!" Used as a sort of whip-crack. "Friday's big payroll!" a morale-booster. But to that last one, he's also added, "Eagles fly!" I'm not really sure what that one's all about, or what he's misinterpreting, but hearing him gleefully shout out, "Friday's big payroll, eagles fly!" in his Pee Wee Herman/Rainman voice is usually all it takes to break me out of whatever work-rut funk I happen to be in.

But I think we've had a breakthrough with this new one. He was having trouble with the inflection when I first introduced the phrase to him. He wanted to emphasize the word "mother" instead of "out," which, for me, subtly robs the expression of it's power. And then, in his way of not understanding metaphor, would say, "Turn this mother out. Friday give my mother my paycheck!" A conceptual disconnect. Hmm.

It was then that I realized that I hadn't exactly explained the meaning of this particular expression to him yet. I had seen him take a literal interpretation of metaphors before: One of his former work coaches had once said, jokingly, "Let's go to the mall, pick up chicks!" and Mr. D had said, "Lift paychecks with our strong muscles!" I had been coaching him on this new expression in context of pep talks about the coming day's tasks, which he likes to review every morning, but then it occurred to me to explain, "Do you know what 'Turn this mother out' means?" Silence. Then, "What. Means. 'Turn-this-mother-out?"

"It means Get This Job Done!" to which he shouted "How's that!" which is his way of saying "Oh, of course. Now I understand!"

So just this last week, unprovoked, I overheard him on the production line shout out to one of his line-mates, "We gotta turn this mother out!" Success!

Face Recognition - Celebrity Matchups

2008-02-16T06:12:00.000-08:00

Through various sources, I've been directed to the My Heritage website, which provides free tools for creating photo-based family trees. But they also have this face recognition tool that will scan your photo and find celebrities that most resemble, if not you, then the photo of you that you've submitted. It's great fun and it's totally free. You don't even have to set up an account to use it!

Here's mine:

They also have this Morph application. I picked Andy Garcia, who, of all the choices, I thought was the closest resemblance:

Then Toshiro Mifune. I didn't see the resemblance at all until setting the morph points. It's the mouth. I have Toshiro Mifune's mouth:

Go, and do likewise.

Falafel on South Grand!

2008-02-11T10:41:00.000-08:00

Saturday I was walking toward the Gelateria on S. Grand (with pbrstreetgang) and saw that the Middle Eastern market right across the street from Jay International is under new ownership. On a chalkboard in the window was scrawled, among other things, "Falafel Sandwiches." I'm sure pbr thought I was going to pee in my pants, so I relaxed and made a mental note.

Today, after making my delivery of beansprouts to Jay Int., I scuttled across the street, made my way to the back of the store, and made my order, which the smiling woman behind the counter told me would take a couple of minutes. In addition to my sandwich, I also ordered a spinach pie and a piece of baklava that looked home-made (and I mean that in the best possible way). Also on the menu were Hummus, Babaganoush, a cheese pie, and some other things I didn't recognize.

The sandwich, well, it was no Al-Tarboush, and a little on the small side, but it was very decent it's here on South Grand. The woman was so happy to have a customer order hot food that she gave me an extra piece of baklava for free! I think that with a little steadier clientele, and a few suggestions here and there (feta and hummus in the sandwich maybe?) this place could really shine. Then all South Grand would need, IMO, is an Indian restaurant and I would never have to leave the neighborhood.

Winter's Wolves?

2008-01-29T12:54:00.000-08:00

The wife and I just recently went on a cruise of the Caribbean and it was, for the most part, relaxing and enjoyable. Unfortunately, everywhere we would go, and with few exceptions, the proper soundtrack for these lovely environs was deemed to be reggae. If there wasn't a live band in the vicinity, there was a sound system blaring, making sure we got our daily allotment. I thought I had managed to finally tune it out when a reggae version of a Jimmy Buffett song made my brain collapse in on itself. Sure, we had heard our share of Mr. Buffett's music on this trip as well, but this. . . this. . .

Obviously, I'm still having trouble with that memory. When we would, however, find ourselves a nice, quiet corner, mostly we would enjoy the quiet. But a couple of times, hanging in our cabin, we'd listen to some music off my laptop, which I had kind of furtively brought along. Lounge, samba, jazz. All of these seemed to suit. But an odd thing happened.

On two separate occasions, when the music we had chosen ran out, the next stuff in line happened to be metal. Mastodon in one instance. Celtic Frost the other time. And while I normally would have enjoyed listening to either of these bands, I sat puzzled for a moment before skipping past them. They seemed to have lost their power.

I pointed this out to my wife, who despises most metal, and we conjectured that maybe metal loses it's power closer to the equator. We agreed that it seems to be a music more suited to northern climates, places where there is even the possibilty of winter. And snow.

This answer suited me for the rest of the vacation. When we got home, and I was a few days into my normal routine, I put on some Mastodon in the car and was relieved to feel my head start nodding, my pulse quickening. Rawk!! I thought about our Metal Only for Northerners hypothesis and rejected it, thinking "But what about Brazil! They love metal in Brazil."

Having been back for a few weeks now, I think I've figured it out. As embarrassing as it is to admit, metal is, for me anyway, primarily escapist. And it gives voice, I think, to frustration. On vacation in the Caribbean, shit. Frustrated with what? Escape from what?

Graffiti Watch - Episode 2

2008-01-03T13:06:00.000-08:00

1st street, by the levees.

Assignment: Jabberwocky

2007-12-11T18:40:00.001-08:00

For our final project in The Fun Class, it was given us to produce a 5x5" booklet of Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky. I drew the following in pen and ink, scanned them, and colored them in Illustrator. Click the pictures for slightly larger versions.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with it's head
He went galumphing back.

"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, by beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Movie Etiquette

2007-11-12T11:18:00.000-08:00

Explained the correct way:

Thanks to Seth for bringing this to our attention.

sigh

2007-10-01T20:59:00.000-07:00

No one brings Teh Cute like The Ditty Bops:

Zen Flesh, Zen Construction Paper

2007-09-10T09:35:00.000-07:00

More YouTube. An animated short consisting of a speech by Alan Watts, with visuals by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, of all people.

Update: I found some more at Fresh Minds.

Abductees

2007-08-28T19:54:00.000-07:00

This haunting short film by Paul Vester mixes video and animation with interviews and hypnotherapy recordings of alien abductees. Frightening and beautiful.

Online Videos by Veoh.com

BBC Four Presents: George Orwell - A Life in Pictures

2007-08-26T19:12:00.000-07:00

Stumbling around YouTube last week and discovered this biopic. Interesting, maybe a bit cheesy in bits, but I watched the whole thing. A narrator guides us through Orwell's productive years, an actor portrays the man himself and is more or less skillfully inserted into newsreel footage, still pictures, and "interviews" from the times in which he lived. If you can accept that premise, and are a fan, you should enjoy this approximately 2hr long show, broken up into five minute segments on YouTube.

Part A is here, look for each successive bit in the sidebar.
.

Graffiti Watch - Episode 1

2007-08-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

These recently turned up on Gravois:

MegaChurch®

2007-08-16T19:31:00.000-07:00

After a strange turn of events, my wife and I found ourselves spending a Mother's Day Sunday morning in a MegaChurch. My wife's brother, and his wife, are members of this church, and they invited us to sunday service to participate in the "dedication" of their newborn son. Our first reaction, I'm ashamed to say: We groaned. Do we have to? But then we thought about it. . .

When were we going to get such an opportunity again? Sure, the church is open to all, and we could go there anytime we wanted, but I suppose that, much like the vampire, we needed to be invited in. Plus, not only could we get brownie points for doing family stuff, but could experience some total-immersion field-anthropology at the same time. Let's go!

We had seen this place many times from the highway on our way to and from her parents house. A complex is what this place is. Huge frame buildings clustered around a white, pod-like "tent." We would joke about the place nervously as we passed it. "Tent is where they have the revival. Outbuildings are bunkrooms and munitions factories." Or, "The tent is where they keep the original bodies of their congregation in one huge support vat, all jumbled in with each other. All these people walking around? [whispered]Robots[/whispered]."

This is the view from the parking lot of the "outbuildings."

Around the other side are the tents. It's actually two tents, a smaller one that serves as a lobby/corridor that connects one of the frame buildings to the larger "venue" tent seen on the right. This picture is shot end-on:

We met up with our family and walked inside. We were immediately struck by the mall-like atmosphere and joked, "First Church of Christ: Mallwalker." And, "It's like a Faith Outlet Mall." Flat-screen TV's were everywhere, mostly displaying cross-fading calendar information. Lots of mostly white suburbanites milling about, dropping off their children at the Sunday School analog. I wish I had gotten pictures of that, but I was a still a little nervous to get my camera out. The children's area had a front playroom for the littlest ones. Behind that, a gymnasium-style venue where there was some kind of Kid's Service going on. Someone definitely onstage overseeing a kind of running activity for the youth. (Smart. Tire 'em out!) I only caught a glimpse, really.

Then into the main tent itself for the service. This is a view from our seats of the entrance-wall, but mostly of the tech board. That timer in the upper, left-hand side, counted forward from zero at the beginning of each "act," so there was no way to tell when a particular segment was almost over.

A little blurry. I didn't want to use my flash. Now pan right, the congregation and the interior of the tent:

Pan right again, a view of the stage and the lighting:

The show began with a woman reciting a poem, very tongue-in-cheek, about how *her* children are absolute angels because she had raised them right. (Oh, but we know different, don't we?) Very self-deprecating and jokey. And very aware of the camera. Screens were everywhere. Two TVs on the stage facing outward. Enormous projection screens on either side of the stage, and two more projections for the back of the stage, mostly displaying "backdrop" type images. Fields of flowers, etc. Here's a better view of the stage:

In the upper right you can see the corner of one of the projection screens. This is it, with lyrics from one of the many songs which were to follow:

We were dazzled by what followed. A fit, mustachioed man, late-thirties(?), led a robed choir in a sort of Gospel Lite musical number:

Incredible sound in that room. Smooth. Slick transitions onstage between segments. Tight segues.

Next was a video presentation, a montage of images of women illustrating character traits of, I guess, a good Christian woman. As the first image of a pregnant woman appeared we both shot each other a look, expecting the "Mothers-Day-Springboard-Into-Abortion," which we had been expecting all along. But the video sidestepped it, instead showing run-of-the-mill gender role clichés. One of them, I forget what the word being illustrated was, but the visual was of a woman's hands washing dishes. Dish-Washer. Baby-Have-er. Boo-Boo-Fixer. Talking about it later, I think we were both so relieved that they avoided blatant political soapboxing that we were willing to accept the gender stereotypes as par-for-the-course. And isn't that a bit more insidious?

I think we were both struck by the media-savviness of the whole thing. And what a great insight it shows on their part that they're appealing so specifically to a demographic, namely, that of mostly youngish, white, slightly monied couples (with children) who spend most of their leisure time watching television. The whole execution of the thing felt like television, and there were screens everywhere.

What else: Our Mustache-Man introduced a young woman as part of a missionary endeavor in India. We got the impression that she had been to India, and overseas, several times before. We both came away with the feeling that she seemed a little bemused by what she was witnessing here on this Sunday morning. Nothing overt. Just a feeling that she was looking around her thinking, "you people have no idea what's going on in the rest of the world." Something about her smile, and her sizing up of the crowd, maybe. After a short speech, she led the congregation in an obviously improvised prayer, and then gracefully made her exit.

Another musical number, then the "dedications." We hadn't been knowing what to expect, but it was fairly tame. Couples, and some single parents, brought their new children onstage and were introduced. They were shown on the projection screens and the meaning of each child's name was given. Not much to say about this.

Then, the Requisite Boring Old Preacher sermon. An older man delivered a nearly 30 minute "MetaSermon," as we later labelled it. Very self-referential about boring Mother's Day sermons he had delivered in the past. Again, all very jokey and self-deprecating. He related how a fellow preacher had given him the dubious complement of "high-caliber" preacher, in this case referring to "the size of the bore." This went on for nearly 15 minutes, and I was doubting whether there was going to be any real content. Finally, he got down to some scripture.

Again, we were shocked. He began talking about Mother's Day and quickly segued into Feminism. We were prepared to be offended and were amazed when he said some sensible things. I'm now turning this over to my wife, who remembers more specifically what he said:

Wife of Bunny, here. If you, Gentle Reader, expect total honesty, I must confess that I went into this looking, nay – DEMANDING, to be deeply morally offended. However, despite my surety that this particular morning would not fall short of these demands, the only offenses offered were, by and large, sartorial in nature. When Mr. Preacherman said that on Mother’s day we must think of the role that Feminism has played in shaping the lives of modern women, I experienced a quickening – here was going to be my big chance to stand up, yell a hearty “FUCK YOU!” and storm out. Here, surely, we were going to get some real controversy. Bring on the aborted fetuses and broken homes! What this frumpy old white man had to say, though, was rather surprising to me. Instead of railing against the evil Feminazis, this man said that, in the face of his skepticism, he had to admit to himself that Feminism has been a positive thing for the world. He went on to caution that the real danger of Feminism was not in taking women away from their “natural” job, rather, forcing them into working what amounts to two full-time jobs, with no more help than they had previously. He went on to express his belief that for a society to love mothers every day as we do on Mother’s Day, we must learn to value the work of women – in the home and out. Well, needless to say I was rather deflated – and kind of proud of that wrinkly old white man.

Thanks, Sweetie!

Then the service took a strange turn. The lights were dimmed, and the backdrop screens presented the images shown above. "Like a Metallica video," we whispered. It was announced that there would be an extended musical number, with communion, but that during this segment, congregants were encouraged to make their way to one of two doors on either side of the stage, each labeled "Prayer Room." Inside, we were informed, people were waiting to help us with whatever questions we may have. If we wanted to join the church, if we wanted witness to our conversion. . . "They keep the snakes in there," my wife whispered (ed. note from wife: It was actually my mother that made the snake comment). From inside came a large bouncer-type guy and an equally tough looking woman, both in black shirts, slacks, and brown blazers. They stood outside the door, ready to escort any and all inside. Few people did this, however. Maybe seven in all. I was tempted to get up and see for myself, but could think of no good excuse or question that I could realistically role-play for longer than thirty seconds. I kept bouncing up and down, almost getting up to beeline for the prayer rooms. In the end, my wife's alarmed looks kept me in my seat.

I contented myself with taking communion, which was passed around on specially designed holders. Round and gold, with small indentations throughout which held tiny clear plastic cups of grape juice. And a larger depression in the middle that held tiny chiclet-sized communion wafers. The grape juice made sense, there being probably more than a few recovering alcoholics in the congregation, but what was with the micro-wafers? "Look how much money it takes to run this place," I said. "This is where they decide to skimp?" I had never taken communion before and had always been curious. Wife, alarmed: "You're only supposed to take that if you believe in Jesus Christ!"

"Well, I sort of do," I countered. "In the Joseph Campbell 'Christ-potential-in-all-of-us' sense." Gulp! Down the hatch.

After the service was over everyone stood, it seemed in unison, and pretty much bolted for their cars. I've been in churches before where there was a bit of fellowship after the service, but this was a no-eye-contact vibe. My wife told me later that there was a "fellowship area" inside that she had seen on her way to the restroom, but reported that not very many people were hanging out there. The bulk of the congregation simply left.

Epilogue: Back home, later that evening, we went to a little get-together with our friends and excitedly told them about where we had spent the morning. They were definitely interested, and asked a lot of questions, but there was an unmistakable narrowing-of-eyes that came with it. It was as though we, having gone to such a place, were now suspect. A temporary social stigma seemed to have followed us from the church, and one of our friends even accused (jokingly), "You guys are gonna start going to this place regularly, aren't you?" Ha!

I Swear,

2007-08-16T18:07:00.000-07:00

I'm working on original content. But until then, let the Words of Sifu Jackson hold you over:

Barbarella, The First 4:40

2007-08-11T13:59:00.000-07:00

Beautiful.

Polish Movie Posters

2007-07-31T20:31:00.000-07:00

As the link will tell you, these are mostly Polish-designed posters for over 200 movies. They're all on one page, so dial-ups beware.

This one is from a movie festival, but Raiders of the Lost Ark and Back to the Future are there as well. In their own Alternate Universe sort of way.

You Should Be Aware Of

2007-07-28T17:51:00.000-07:00

the watches of Haruo Suekichi:

Here is a link to an interview with the man himself. Here's a link to his website. It's in Japanese, however.

Ersatz Hallucinations

2007-07-27T21:01:00.001-07:00

Well, there's this. . . but I think it loops back on itself at some point. I suppose one could just let it play forever.

Then there's this:

Here's another loop, but I find it strangely relaxing.

.

Today I:

2007-07-04T20:55:00.000-07:00

Went to work for four hours.
Came home and slept for four hours. Upon waking up in a puddle of sweat, I realized that the AC had to be turned on, but was too stupified by sleep to be able to recognize that fact until the Missus suggested it.
Drove out to the Missus' folk's house to lounge in their pool. On the way out (45 minute drive) it rained like a bastard, and I hydroplaned a few times.
Drove back home with plans to eat at our favorite mexican restaurant. On the way home, a friend who lives two blocks away invited us over for barbecue. Turns out the restaurant was closed anyway, so we picked up beer and headed over.
Spent a pleasant few hours at friend's house. Much beer-drinking and firework-firing. Got to know some recent acquaintances a little better, but in a good way.
Fished two of our beers out of the cooler, said our goodbyes, and walked home. We're still gasping in relief when we come home and see the floors that we spent the weekend replacing. Ah!

A pleasant day.

A Refresher Course via Amy Sedaris

2007-05-30T19:54:00.000-07:00

Needless to say, it's NSFW.

Personal Canon: An Autobiography through Popular Culture

2007-05-23T21:18:00.000-07:00

'71 - Born in Ephrata, WA to Mexican-American mother and Scotch/Irish/English-American father. Spend first two years of life in Moses Lake, WA among mother's family. I have a brother who is two years older.

'73 - Move to northern tip of Minnesota. Spend next 3 years moving every six months as father follows work, heading steadily south toward Minneapolis. Parents finally divorce.

'76+ - Cable television acquired with all available movie channels accessible with little/no parental guidance. This, as will be seen, is a key influence on my childhood.

- Become obsessed with Charles Schulz's Peanuts. Equally obsessed with Watership Down after seeing animated film. Book quickly becomes a favorite.

- Continue moving every year in an orbit around Minneapolis, just far enough away each time that I'm required to attend a new school every year.

- Mother begins dating black men with fantastic record collections. Exposure to late '60s/early '70s soul/R&B/funk. Earth, Wind & Fire, James Brown, Curtis Mayfield, Average White Band. Also, several of Rudy Ray Moore's "Party" albums. Incredibly, we are taken to a drive-in movie to see Rudy Ray's Dolemite, probably under the impression that we are too young to understand what we are seeing. This movie features prominently in our playtime for the next few years, the Hamburger Pimp being a favorite character.

- Father re-marries. Step-mother's record collection contains Alice Cooper's Killer and Queen's A Night at the Opera. I while away the afternoons of many weekend visits listening to these two albums on enormous '70s headphones.

- Kiss, also an important band for me at the time.

'77 - Star Wars theatrical release. I'm fascinated, and see it several times in the theater. When it finally appears on cable, I can't seem to pull myself away if it's on.

- A great time for stand-up comedy, especially on cable. Richard Pryor and George Carlin particularly impressing my brother and I. We discover two of Pryor's concert albums in the house and they become part of our regular rotation. Do we understand it? I can't say, but we listen and laugh over and over again.

'79+ - Taken by stepfather (mother married again) to see Alien in the theater, which simultaneously enthralls and terrifies me. This aesthetic experience sets tone for future aesthetic "needs". Become obsessed with H.R. Giger, who (at the time) is difficult to find information on.

- Stepfather a fan of The Sugar Hill Gang and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. Duly impressed, we listen attentively.

- Books: A Wrinkle in Time, The Hobbit, LOTR, The Chronicles of Narnia. Mother's boyfriend (divorced again) introduces me to Piers Anthony's Xanth series, which I devour and enjoy until I realize that puns are actually kind of nerdy, and not helping my case with girls.

- Movies: The Ramones' Rock n' Roll High School. First glimpse of "Punk Rock."

'80-'84 - Brother and I discover D&D, shortly followed by AD&D. We, and a small group of friends, become slightly obsessed. After playing ready-made adventure (whew! I almost said "module!") Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, we buy a copy of TSR's Gamma World, post-apocalyptic RPG fairly easy to use with D&D rules. We also discover TSR's Boot Hill, wild-west RPG, and try to blend elements of all three games, with varying success. Years later, I would read Stephen King's The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger and devour it in one sitting, finally realizing that somebody got it.

- See Heavy Metal animated movie, which impresses me greatly and leads to ransacking of local comics shops for back issues of magazine. (Saw the movie again years later and couldn't finish watching, it was so embarrassingly adolescent.) Song Through Being Cool by DEVO appears in film, which leads me to the record store to buy every available release by them (on cassette). They, with the help of an enormous, second-generation, off-brand Walkman, become my daily soundtrack.

- Brother, on a fluke, discovers Battle of the Planets and Star Blazers (both anime), which are on at 5am Saturday morning. Waking up for them becomes our weekend ritual. (This further reinforces belief that the really good stuff has to be gone out of the way for. It's rarely just going to land in your lap.) Later, we see Galaxy Express 999, full-length anime film. We are mystified, but deeply impressed. I will retain an awareness and appreciation of anime throughout my teen years and adulthood, but will fail to develop an obsession.

- Other Movies: (Thank you, cable TV!) Mad Max, The Road Warrior, Escape From New York, Blade Runner, Jabberwocky, Time Bandits, A Clockwork Orange.

- Seeing A Clockwork Orange leads me to the book, which leads me to the whole Negative Utopia "movement" (1984, Brave New World, Farenheit 451) all of which are only marginally sci-fi. I manage to avoid any of the serious SF (Heinlein, Asimov). Pick up my father's copy of Dune, which I read all the way through, but am too young to understand.

- Also discover Iron Maiden, most notably Number of the Beast and Piece of Mind. I fall in with a group of metal-heads at school (and smoke pot for the first time), but only pretend to like most of the other bands they listen to. None, it seems, are as deep as 'Maiden. Privately, I still listen to DEVO, unable to reconcile my seemingly opposite tastes.

'84 - See movie Nightmares. Creepshow-style, it consists of four separate stories. One of them, The Bishop of Battle, featuring a young Emilio Estevez trying to defeat an arcade game, also features the music of Black Flag, notably their song Rise Above. I'm so galvanized by what I hear that I practically vomit blood. Local record shops (chains, all of them) don't carry it, so I'm forced to venture into downtown Minneapolis by bus to find a store that has it. The staff is really nice to me, nods knowingly at my purchase, and I admire how frightening they look. The seed is planted. Spend the rest of that school year quietly trying to re-invent myself.

'85 - My mother flees her alcoholic boyfriend, taking me and her newborn daughter to live with one of her sisters in Seattle. (Seemingly overnight, I lose all taste for RPGs and Fantasy fiction. I will not regain this taste until my early '30s.) Over the summer, I go to stay with my Dad, brother, Step-Mom and -Sister in suburbs outside of St. Louis. Brother and I re-bond, he having moved in with my father some years before (friction with mother's boyfriend). Brother and I having also simultaneously discovered Punk, he introduces me to his group of friends. The smell of leather jackets and clove cigarettes takes me instantly back to that time.

- Brother and friends expose me to the movie The Hunger, opening segment featuring half-speed performance of Bauhaus' Bela Lugosi's Dead. Soundtrack for that summer: Christian Death, Alien Sex Fiend, Nina Hagen, Ziggy Stardust, Cabaret Voltaire. "Goth" having not yet been coined, "Death Rock" or "Death Punk" is the name of it. I lose my virginity at a party in the bathroom with a 20+ year old girl named Wendy who has a blonde mohawk. I am 14 years old. (Yikes! I see kids that age now and cringe at how young they are, hoping like hell they're not up to half the stuff I was up to at that age.) Complete overhaul reinvention begins.

- Join mother in Seattle. Quickly fall in with group of like-minded youths. Drop acid for first time. First girlfriend. Start skipping school in earnest, showing up only to attend Garfield High School's incredibly well funded Graphic Arts department.

- Co-worker of my mother's (she was a hairdresser most of my childhood), a twenty-ish veteran punk rocker, loans me some albums she thinks I would like, and I do: Misfits - Evilive, Sonic Youth - Death Valley '69 ep, Scratch Acid's first album, and the Butthole Surfers - Psychic. . . Powerless. . . Another Man's Sac. At this time, I also discover AC/DC's Back in Black in my aunt's record collection. I secretly love it, again unable to reconcile seemingly conflicting tastes.

- See my first live concert, Husker Du, who I have never heard before, strangely enough, they being from Minneapolis and all.

- I see Einsturzende Neubauten perform an outdoor show at this time. My young mind is blown. I check out other "industrial" bands, but none has the same impact.

- "Crossover" music begins to appear. Punk-Metal fusion, which affords me a great amount of psychic relief. D.R.I., The Accused, Corrosion of Conformity. I hear Metallica in there somewhere. And suddenly rap has some underground cache. I manage to avoid this for the time being, somewhat unsure of how to reconcile a love of "black" music with the new person I've become.

- Movies: The Toxic Avenger, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, A Boy and His Dog, 28 Up!

- My behavior quickly growing out of control, I am sent to suburban St. Louis again for the summer, not realizing that it is a permanent move.

'86-'88 - Sudden difficult transition to small-town middle-America begins. No one quite knows what to make of me. "Wavers," New Wavers exist here, but are few and far between. I spend the first few months of school eating lunch at a table alone in a room where the other tables are elbow-to-elbow full. Message taken. Brother has long since dropped Punk for his Gentleman's Quarterly phase. Little help there, although he now has friends who are in a punk band and I meet them.

- Am befriended by some metal-heads, me turning them onto C.O.C. and The Accused, etc., and they turning me onto Celtic Frost, King Diamond, etc. Begin serious pot-smoking. Slayer's Reign in Blood and Public Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions. . . are the soundtrack, P.E. single-handedly making it "OK" to like rap.

- Movies: Repo Man, Liquid Sky, Urgh! A Music War. Gang of Four's performance in Urgh... nearly making me scream.

- Discover thrift-store and military-surplus shopping.

- Parents move (?!?!) yet again, only far enough to send me to a different school, the one my brother had just dropped out of. Meet skate-punks. Meet drummer for punk band in algebra class, he of the band my brother knows. Attend a few of their shows and am galvanized. People you know can actually do this, I think. *I* could do this. Befriend guitarist, who sells me an old B.C. Rich and teaches me barre chords. This is easy, I think. First exposure to Iggy and the Stooges, MC5, Black Sabbath. Also discovery of mostly Chicago-area bands: Big Black, Naked Raygun.

- Continue acid use. Brother begins Hippie phase, moves to San Francisco and joins Greenpeace and mails me sheets of blotter acid, which I sell to classmates. I buy meth from a local biker, but only do it about three times. Not for me, uppers.

'89+ - Drop out of high school. Take G.E.D. (equivalency test) and get job at office doing grunt work. Begin Normal phase. Movies: Anything with "Dead" or "Living Dead" in the title.

- Discover junk/antique shops and while away many hours scouring them for tasty artifacts.

- Reunite with ex from high school. Together we move to Columbia, MO. Her to continue college, me to find work and consider college.

- Get job at public library, where I am exposed to any book I could possibly want to read. Somewhere in there I read Neuromancer by William Gibson and am impressed. Also try Gibson's Count Zero, but am less 'whelmed. Also first exposure to J.G. Ballard, Burroughs, Mark Leyner, Margaret Atwood. Ah, I think, there's a whole school of this "almost-sci-fi"out there. I read Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson, but don't remember finishing it. Discover Hunter S. Thompson.

- Douglas Coupland's Generation X comes through the new releases and I read it. Quickly recommend it to friends, saying, "Read this, before people start referring to themselves as 'members of Generation X.' "

- Part of my job at the library includes watching videos that have been returned with complaints that they are faulty. I quickly realize the fuck-off potential of this and just start grabbing stuff I want to watch. See Joseph Campbell's Power of Myth series and am moved by his explanations. Start reading his books.

- Exposure to Indie Comics: Eightball, Hate, Love and Rockets, Charles Burns. These lead me to R. Crumb. Stumble across Rollerderby 'zine in record store (Lisa "Suckdog" Carver) and collect every issue I can find in horrified fascination.

- Start several half-assed bands during this period. Terrible, terrible stuff.

- Movies: Lots of film-school stuff thanks to college-attending friends: M, Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The Blue Angel. Also see La Dolce Vita and am impressed. First real exposure to Woody Allen and he quickly becomes a favorite. Also see David Mamet films for the first time and am intrigued. Friends and I frequently "Mamet Dialogue" with each other, the source of much mirth.

- Room-mate introduces me to Australian band The Birthday Party, some eight years after their demise and I suddenly realize where all my favorite bands got their inspiration. Same room-mate plays me The Jesus Lizard's first three albums, they out of Chicago. They become my Perfect Band.

'91 - Begin college.
'92 - Quit college.

- Nirvana makes it big. Popular culture takes a shift and suddenly everything is "Alternative." This sparks some lively debate amongst my friends. Having had to scrape out a Personal Canon all those years, sometimes (often) going quite far out of our way to do so, we can't help but feel a little betrayed as band after band signs to major labels and are suddenly appearing in Heavy Rotation on MTV. Sorority girls wandering around in Sonic Youth T-shirts?

(Digression: It's hard to remember what this felt like at the time, and it seems ridiculous now, but it was as though there was a handful of people that you trusted and respected for years, and then all at once they peeled their faces off, produced your wallet from behind their backs and whispered, "Gotcha!" Why musicians were held to this standard, and not authors or film-makers, never really occurred to us.)

Many of us can't believe what we are seeing and try to continue on our way, not letting all the hoopla interfere. I *like* Nirvana, but some of my friends won't give them a chance, merely because they're popular. This seems as stupid and reactionary to me as all the frat boys who are suddenly appearing at *our* shows, stage-diving because of that Pearl Jam video. The lesson I take away is that you like what you like, regardless of whether everyone or no one else has heard of it. And aren't we a little old now to be using bands as Personality Signifiers?

'94-'04 - Having floundered for a good long while, I move back to St. Louis. Back in with my folks to get out of debt, and also to start over (having burned many bridges in Columbia).

- Start job at bean sprout factory, at first only for the summer but I'm still there, 13 years later. The work suits me.

- Continue scouring junk shops. Discover estate sales and begin haunting them, vulture-like, on a weekly basis. Develop snobbery toward garage sales, "That's just shit people don't want. Estate sales. . . That's the stuff people wanted to keep forever!"

- Spend time in various bands that actually play out. Meet drummer who is also half-Mexican and we bond instantly, even more so when we realize a mutual love for '60s-'70s soul/funk/R&B. I've heard some Jazz that I liked over the years and he exposes me to more: '60s-era Herbie Hancock, Mingus, Lonnie Smith. We both, I think, experience something of a personal renaissance. Drummer and I stick together through three bands. Longest time in band: four years.

- Re-read Frank Herbert's Dune. Struggle through book 2 (Dune Messiah, which I still don't really like) and blaze through the rest of them in a dead heat. Am impressed by his inclusion of many Buddhist and Taoist ideas, and am inspired to read more about each of those subjects. I identify as a Buddhist for a short while, but realize I lack the self-discipline to continue doing so.

- Discover, through band-mate, Quake III and SoulCalibur on Sega Dreamcast. Waste the better part of a year discovering my competitive side at his frequently meeting home game.

'03 - Am introduced to wife through drummer and his wife. We hit it off and quickly move in together. Among the things we have in common is that we're both closet survivalists. Together, we find ourselves seeking out more information about gardening, shooting, hunting, butchering. We begin to put these things into practice.

- She is anti-television. I'm ambivalent, but see her point. I give up broadcast TV (don't miss it one bit) but still rent movies. She is a bit movie-illiterate, and I try to find movies she would like with varying success. Once she discovers that movies can be discussed in-depth the same way literature can be (oddly enough, it's Reality Bites which sparks a heated discussion between us) we find some common ground there. (I still can't believe how much time I used to waste watching television.)

- She also brings with her a background in computer programming and a PC. Having never owned one, or felt the need to, she helps me set up my first e-mail account. She is somewhat amused by this. First tentative explorations of Teh Internet. Takes me a while to develop a "need" for it.

- Wife and I run into an old college room-mate of hers at farmer's market. She and her husband are heavily involved in an experimental theater company and are also film-makers. We fall in with these people, mostly as drinking buddies, but wife soon takes up costume design for several productions and I select transition music for one. Most of my creative experience having been in bands, I'm fascinated to see other creative collaborations take place and note the differences. . . and similarities.

'04 - Married.
- Buy house.
- Suddenly discover I am a Dog Person. We adopt two dogs through Stray Rescue.
- Realize band I'm in is going nowhere, flogging the bare bones of a long-dead horse. Quit abruptly and alienate myself from bandmates.

'05 - Read William Gibson's Pattern Recognition. Realize that since I read Neuromancer all those years ago, he's written a handful of others. Start with Idoru, not realizing it's part two of a trilogy, and work my way through the rest of his books, laterally. Finally read Mona Lisa Overdrive and am delighted to see Molly from Neuromancer again. Like seeing an old friend many years later. Gibson becomes my Perfect Author, his Bridge trilogy resonating especially "true" for me.

- Join Gibson's discussion forum after a long period of lurking. No one I know has really read any of his work, and I'm giddy to find a lot of discussion already taking place online.

'06 - Attend Burning Man at urging of wife, who has been several times. Return energized and inspired and quickly take up several creative projects I have in cold storage. Discover the wherewithal to see them through to fruition and keep going.

'07 - . . .

Thanks to Archie for the idea.

The Worst Part About My Job

2007-05-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

Worst part of my job? [smith]It's the smell.[/smith] Food processing inevitably means bleach fumes, which are bad enough. (My personal hell? Drowning in a lake of bleach.) My workplace is located in the basement of an enormous old six-story warehouse that contains several businesses. The bulk of the warehouse is used to store various dry chemicals in enormous one-ton bags. Mostly they're cattle-feed additives: powdered zinc, antioxidants, etc. These substances give off a stink that is difficult to describe. Metallic but organic. It smells like some thing people aren't meant to smell, like death by respiratory disease. I've brought people down there to give them a tour and always watch their faces as the smell punches them in the nose. "Oh my god!" The first floor is the worst, the gauntlet from the front door to the basement, and it fades almost entirely once you've gotten down to the basement itself.

And the smell clings. I've had to run down there in the afternoon, just a quick sprint from the front door to the basement and back again and in that short amount of time, I've gotten back in the car and my clothes and skin are fucking permeated. In the summer, the smell intensifies, is given substance by the heat and humidity (building is too big and old for any kind of climate control to be feasible.)

Again, once down in the basement itself, the smell is barely noticeable. If I stand by one of the elevator shafts, I can smell it drifting down. But it's there. I leave work every day smelling like I've been pitchforking the damned back under their chemical bath. And the worst part of all is that I think I've gotten used to it.