Great post, close to my heart and well written.
Find it here.
Great post, close to my heart and well written.
Find it here.
I know that June is the official kick off month for the “Wedding Season,” but I’ve realized that if I wanted to, I could start up a side enterprise working weddings as a fill in. I’ve held every position available to a straight man(I don’t care what the new Patrick Dempsey movie says), save for one.
Attendee/Date(gotta have seat fillers)
Ring Bearer(true I’m a bit old for this now but should your adorable nephew come down with SARS or something, I could always pinch hit).
Usher(Where you’re part of the wedding, but not the wedding party. “Friend of the bride or groom? Here’s your program. Enjoy the extra 20 minutes of organ music.”)
Wedding Singer(Ceremony, not reception. DJ’s pretty much dominate).
Groomsman(Hopefully of high enough rank so as to not be drafted into the usher corps and thereby avoiding double duty).
Best Man(Plan kick ass party. Thank the couple’s parents at the rehearsal dinner. Don’t lose lose the effing ring. Plan escape of groom in case of emergency. Toast at reception.)
Officiant(“Man and wife. Say, ‘Man and wife!’”).
The only job left is one I don’t apply for, but should anybody need a fill in, I’ve a reasonable hourly rate.
And I haven’t posted in awhile…
I thought I’d direct you to this.
If for no other reason then mindless distraction.
If you care, I only scored 70% but hey, I take pride in NOT knowing what Jellies were made of.
As I have stated before, I’m stunted in my musical growth. That said, I’ve come to some conclusions as to the state of “popular” music:
Just so we’re on the same page(in terminology), and for the purpose of this post, an album will be defined as a collected release by an artist so as to tell a story or journey through music.
An opera, or an orchestral work is designed for such purposes, but so are more recent offerings. And from them there are favored movements or pieces that fans wish to revisit. Now, however with the instant gratification/OCD culture, a large musical “work” appears(to me) to be on it last legs.
With the downloadability of today, there’s no reason to experience the journey from song to song of the artist(even if it’s just once), and that, to me is a bit sad.
Not from a business standpoint, I totally understand the need to crank out hit after top forty boring and absolutely the same song hit. But there is(as I am led to understand and occasionally find), an artist that tells a story through an album, and that is what downloads are truly killing.
When you’re told to only listen to/download “x” song, there exists the possibility that you might miss the point that the artist was getting to on the album. There are some, though most assuredly not all, artists that want to take you on a journey. With what I’m going to call a, “one song, move on,” mentality, I doubt many recording artists will want to put forth the effort needed to make a long musical statement or journey(and yes I do realize that there will be exceptions).
There’s also the loss of the arts of both liner notes and album art that will continue to fade. I’ve enough tree rings to recall what vinyl is and maybe its my failing eyesight or perhaps I’m just embracing grumpy coot syndrome, but those two things seemed to add to the whole album experience for true fans.
I am, of course, aware that this is a specialized problem that effects music geeks and the masses are content to happily fill their iTunes folder with the song o’ the week and move along to the next download required for societal acceptance. I do however find interesting that these aspects of musical experience are fading away. Then again, given huge piles of cash involved and since those that would care are the smaller group, not too many people will notice or care.
On the b side, it may be time to scavenge what you can and invest in what might be a new or heightened level of collectibles. Plus, like I said before, I’m not an expert on the issue in any way shape or form. There are many positives to downloading as it’s eco-friendly(less energy used and less waste produced), easier to share, and it is easier to find that hard to find song. Perhaps that’s worth the loss of the tactile sensation and a broad musical story.
It is going to be one of those generational things that old people bore children with when they begin, “You know, in my day…”
Very much like what I’m doing right now.
Another night of odd dreams, but just when I get to a place where I begin to have feelings of happiness, peace and love…
The alarm goes off.
The dream-state euphoria shattered. The outlook for today…angry.
You are Apocalypse
|You believe in survival of the fittest and you believe that you are the fittest.
I’m of the opinion that your DVD collection reveals something about you. Leave me alone with it for any amount of time and I’ll go over it like I’m looking in your medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Like books on the shelf, I’ll draw conclusions about you from the choices you make in what you’ve dedicated money to for your film collection(some people use music, I use flicks).
Most prospects have at least one DVD with the powerhouse combo of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. Which is fine. But if they have “Joe Versus the Volcano”…
Well let’s just say I’m sticking around to see what happens.
Writers strike got you down? Feeling depressed because the last two finished episodes of “Chuck” were tainted with the splooge that is “Celebrity Apprentice” was crammed in between? Me too. But fear not, since I’ve watched an absurd amount of television in my life. I feel properly equipped to recommend the following for your viewing consumption*:
Your entertainment seeking soul will be grateful…your credit card, not so much.
* Yeah, I’m pimping a great deal of Sci-Fi Channel and the BBC, but you know what? Good is good.
Do to some impatience and
the fact that I don’t have a date tonight the weather, I’ve upped movie night. The selection:
Honestly, I’ve not seen this since it was in the theater and perhaps once on HBO(snippets when it was on TV but never start to finish) which is odd because I recall that I really liked it. So last week, when I was tricked by a buy 2 get the 3rd free sale, I saw it sitting there in the rack minding its own business and I just had to have it(I know I could have rented it but that is just not how my mind functions).
What I do remember is that I greatly enjoyed the story of the formation and (I believe) implosion of this Irish soul band, I think I had a crush on one of the girls in the band, and that the soundtrack was fantastic. And now that the popcorn is ready, I can see if I still like this tale.
117ish minutes later…
So, did it hold up? Yes…and no.
The music (though I’m not quite qualified to talk at length on the topic) is still funtastic, and I even caught a few references I didn’t catch before. The film also plays now like a period piece. Released in 1991, and based on a book, it has a mid to late 80′s feel to it. Metal and New Wave(I hope that’s the correct genre) draw some snide comments and it is certainly before Grunge and the Boy Band explosions.
I recalled the band being friendlier in the beginning, but no, they were fighting each other from the start and the “success” made it worse. It’s still fun to watch the collapse though, like a VH1 Behind the music of a group that almost was and, “then things went terribly wrong…”
Oddly, I found myself more focused on the portrayal of the poverty and desperation portrayed in the film. This is something I’d either forgotten or not been aware of in the past, but it added…something to the story that I can’t help but think makes it a sadder film to me(this is neither good or bad, simply different).
And the girls? Hmmm…women of Irish decent, mixed with a bit of the crazy. You’ve got my attention. Throw in the Irish dialect and yep… found them all desirable in their own way.
Speaking of the dialect: There’s just a way that the Irish pronounce the word, “fuck” that just makes me smile. If I were to attempt a phonetic spelling I think I’d need access to the “o” with the two dots over it. Actually all cursing in Irish is for some reason, an auditory delight to me.
“So, do you recommend it?”
Yes, but with this disclaimer: It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. Music junkies should(and probably do) own it, and the film-goer looking for something other than the regular genre flicks should definitely give a look or two. If however, you only go to what you’re told to see that weekend, or your DVD collection could pass as a calendar for each weeks “must own” release, you’re probably not going to like this(but I still think it might build character for you to watch it).
It should also be noted that I am in no way, shape or form a film critic. These are simply the thoughts that spew from my opinionated mind. Go to Ebert for professional ramblings.
This weekend, I am going to watch a film that I’ve not seen in its entirety, for fifteen years. I’m curious to see if it holds me like it did/improves/is total crap. A full review may be forthcoming(if it warrants it), but sometimes it can be interesting to look back at things(movies/music/whatever) that you liked(or thought you did) at the time to see if it holds up to what you are now.
My friend, who so royaly blog-slapped me this week, had a post that got me to thinking. It has to do with cover songs and you can find it here.
Now let me be crystal clear about something before I begin:
When it comes to music, Mr. Lady is an authority. Not at all to be questioned. Every time(it does you no good, believe me, you will lose every time). If you want to know if something is good, ask her. I can carry a tune fair enough, but compared to her…well lets just say that she’d be riding in a stretch limo drinking champagne whilst I would most likely be in the short bus wearing a helmet and spilling my juice box. That said, it should be noted that I have made a few finds in my day(even a blind squirrel will find a nut or two, and yes I will take credit for introducing her to Hem) so I was inspired to
steal the idea to post some of my favorite covers of songs(what did she do? 13+? Well, I don’t think I’ll do that many).
Here we go in no specific order(sorry that I’m too lazy to link these, but that’s what Google is for):
Final count? 12. Like I said(on so many levels…)the short bus.
The sun was…hidden by clouds that threatened rain, work was…well…work, but I truly thought that I would make it through the day with my dignity in tact.
I was wrong.
Someone apparently decided to acknowledge that this day should have significance to me and proceeded to post THIS.
So there I was, ready to let the day go quietly into that good(vodka filled night) when I get blatantly called out by what appears to be a writer’s strike version of a Dean Martin Roast(I am SO old).
Well, allow me to retort…
First to the commentators of the post(at least at the time of this writing):
Oh yeah, and to Mr. Lady,
Since my mind has failed me today and instead searched the web for frivolity, I thought I’d share this link with you that brought a cringe worthy smile to my face.
Thanks to G4′s The Feed for this find, but I must say I know at least one more captivating DM compared to this guy.
Enjoy…or not, it made me chuckle.
It’s that time of the year. Everyone’s making them. Best of/Worst of/Most/Least/Resolutions. They’re too numerous to…well…list. So, in an effort to
better myself join in the fun whilst still maintaining my need to complain through the end of 2007, I’ve compiled my list.
Words that could more than adequately describe me(not that I’m sure that’s entirely a good thing) in no particular order:
Gratitude to “The Bibliophile’s Dictionary” for new ways to state some of my
faults personality quirks.
You Had a Bad Year
Your year was horrible. There’s no other way to say it.
A lot went wrong for you, and you’re still recovering from it.
The good news is that things probably won’t get worse for you.
So look forward to the new year, where things will hopeful be much better!
Old computer broken.
New one, an expense I wasn’t expecting.
Surprise! Punch in the wallet.
This is the time, as the leaves turn, that a great product is released. It is an indulgence, but it is fantastic. From October until Thanksgiving, there is Pumpkin Ale. Oh, dear me, it is two great tastes that taste great together. Like washing down pumpkin pie with beer, it is, amazing. The smell, the taste…I can almost see the leaves as they change and eventually fall. An adult indulgence, which reminds me of grease paint and the smell of plastic capes. It is glorious, at least, to me.
I was watching “Pan’s Labyrinth” again(great film by the way, if you have the means I highly recommend it), there’s a certain scene that, gruesome as it is, is fantastic in my memory because of the first time I was witness to it. I was in the theater watching, and then it happened…everyone in that dark room cringed and gasped, “Ohhh…” at the same time. I cannot get enough of those moments when collectively an entire group of basically total strangers are so taken up in the story that they react as if they were right there. It’s why I still see movies in the theater(though not as often as I would like), in the hope that there will be that moment. There are some moments unfortunately, that I’ll never be able to get(older films, films I waited to see), but there is one in particular that I’m curious about: “The Tingler.”
“The Tingler” is a Vincent Price classic from 1959, and as fate would have it, it’s on tonight. But the first time I saw it was during a Vincent Price marathon that ran the day Mr. Price passed away. It’s a monster movie wherein a doctor’s theory about a creature that lives in every one of us called, ”the tingler,” feeds off our fear and is kept in check by our scream as the terror grips us. He tests the theory but scaring a mute woman to death(literally, since she can’t scream her tingler kills her), and then removes it for study when…oops! The creature escapes and hilarity ensues. At the height of suspense that tingler enters a movie house and kills the projectionist causing the film to go out and the screen goes blank as Price’s character is on the intercom telling both the fake and real audiences to scream for their lives. On TV, in the daytime, I did not feel the terror but I wonder if the audience was into it then.
Imagine…you’re at a theater watching a scary movie and the creature which(hopefully) is frightening you enters a theater very much like the one you’re in and then…blackness…and at the height of the tension an order to scream for you life.
I like to think that it worked. In my mind it would have been one of those brilliant…
I must admit that I’ve not really missed your presence. The Strike two years ago did not sit well with many and also cost you ESPN. I barely watched three games last season, and none of them were playoff games. Tonight you return and I will try to find the adoration I once had for you. I’m not saying we’ll ever had what we once shared, but that we’ll take it one game at a time.
Those 3-D pictures. You know the ones. At first glance it looks like a bunch of pixels, but if you relax(so I’m told) you can see a dolphin swimming or a castle on a hill.
I’ve never been able to see the picture in the picture. Ever.
Begin drawing conclusions now.
It’s another one of those days when my thoughts refuse to congeal into logical discourse, so I thought I’d throw out a couple of recommendations. I’m both a book and a stand up comedy aficionado(word of the day calendar finally paying off today), so with that it mind, I’m going to call up an tag team of old school comics and their recent books
“I Shouldn’t Even Be Doing This!” – Bob Newhart
“Rickles’ Book” – Don Rickles
Both are legends. Both books are fun, informative and interesting reads.
Oh yeah, did you know that they are best friends?
Newhart and Rickles: BFF
Given their persona’s, you would think that these are the last two people who would befriend and travel with each other yet as you read either or both of their books, it just seems right that these icons are great friends.
I’m having trouble thinking up a brilliant post for today, so I’m going to crack open my copy of “The Bibliophile’s Dictionary” and flip to a ramdom page and word to see if inspiration strikes. Here we go…
Calliope (kuh LIE uh PEE) -n. the muse of eloquence and epic poetry; one of nine muses and the mother of Orpheus by Apollo.
Hmmm…oddly fitting that on a day when she’s truly not available to be with me, I stumble on her name. Let’s try one more…
malkin (also mawkin) (MAHL kin, also MAH kin) n. a chambermaid; a woman of the lower classes, 2. an untidy female; a servant or country wench; a slattern; a slut; a drab; a lewd woman, 3. a mop created by tying a bundle or rags to the end of a stick, used by the kitchen servant to clean the ovens, 4. a scarecrow, 5. a designation for certain animals, such as a cat or hare.
Wow, could there be another word with so many varied meanings? Seriously this word(should anyone know any one of the meanings) could so easily be misinterpereted as another, the possibilities for confusion are plenty. In truth, if you find anyone who actually does know any of those definitions you should give them a dollar for being smarter than the average bear(or malkin for that matter).
You will need some or all of the following:
Mix together with imagination(a must have) and you can produce one or more of the following structures:
It may be helpful to enlist the services of a small child or the ability to think as one, but the adventure always was and will be worth more than all the treasures in the land.
It’s not like life is throwing things at me left and right(my left or yours?) but, my mind just refuses to shut down at times. Either too many thoughts or one on a loop, and it’s quite distracting. It can be something as simple as the song stuck in the head, or an ADD/OCD thought tree cascading with possib/probabilities.
ten minutes later…
It’s become quite the impediment to any type of productivity. I need to find a way to at least gear down. I am too scattered to finish anythi
There used to be a program on PBS, back in the days when televisions had knobs and up to five or six channels to choose from, called “Gather ‘Round.” It’s genius was in its simplicity. A man tells a story to a group of children and while he speaks an artist sketches a scene or two from the tale. A tale and the visions it inspired.
I was very fond of this program as a wee child. It may have been where I first found the hunger for good stories and storytellers. I’ve never seen another show like that since those carefree days of childhood, and maybe it’s the kid in me that longs to see it back, but I think a program like that should be on again.
To the divine Miss N.,
Today you begin a new journey. One that I will now have little access to and interaction with. While I’m still hopeful to make appearances in your life from now on, I am saddened that we will no longer be as constant as we were. I am going to miss you. You’ve been a true friend, helping me to grow and calling me out when I’m not as much as I should be. I am certain that we will stay friends, and our correspondence will taper off to the crawl that is an occasional hello/how are you doing email or letter. We may even be able to visit once in a while but, the close friendship we had almost daily must now be sporadic at best. It is both necessary and good, yet it is bittersweet to let go of the rock that’s been grounding me for many years.
You know I dislike getting emotional, so I won’t. I could though, and that says a great deal. So now, as you take your beauty to new horizons, I wish you health and happiness in this and all other endeavours.
Until the next time…
So astronomers have found a huge chunk of space with nothing in it. No stars, galaxies, black holes, dark matter…just nothing. A void with absolutely nothing exerting any force on anything. Now, if they can just prove that it’s the center of the universe, followers of zen will have a perfect metaphor for their teachings.
I do find it fun to imagine what it would be like to be present in the emptiness(thereby no longer making it a void, I know) to look out and simply watch everything as it goes about it’s business. Not like a god, but as a witness to the dance of the universe. Watching everything, yet being nothing.
I’m such a sci-fi geek, my mind swirling with possibilities of how this can be worked into stories…
Perhaps it could be a futuristic prison: with no gravity and possibly no light reaching the region, it could be a labyrinth from which the can be no escape. Like that created by Daedalus for the Minotaur…
When I started this little experiment, I tried to make myself believe that I was going to post every day. Well it’s clear that that lasted for what, maybe a month?
Well, I’m hoping that soon I’ll be able to at least bring quality over quantity.
I’ve been searching for an adjective to describe myself or to be more precice, an aspect of my life. Allow me to explain:
My primary means of transportation is my bicycle, and I enjoy it very much. It gets me connected to the journey, keeps me active and to be honest, I just like to ride. The difficulty for me is that there is no term which captures this lifestyle. I’m not a cyclist or cycling enthusiast(which I equate with the spandex clad road warriors), nor am I involved in BMX, trail or other extreem forms of bicycling(and I’m not against or ridiculing these activities, I just don’t engage in them). I commute.
When I tell people I ride, I watch as a wave of confusion washes over them as they run through the recreational options and the eventually get to, “You bike from place to place? Oh…” and the the look of pity as if I’m some reject unable to secure an automobile. Yet that is not the case, I just love to ride.
How then, to describe my utilitarian use of this mode of transport?
So far the best I’ve come up with has been to repurpose the term “Commie.” It does seem so suit me as I’ve decided to link it to not only to the commute from a to b, but the communion with the route and the road and(to get grand) the world. Your linked to the world more on the bike(and be careful there too, as many assume that you ride a motorcycle and are confused when they ask if it’s a Harley and you tell them you ride a Kona/Schwinn/whatever).
For now I can think of nothing better to describe this aspect of myself, and I do like taking a word linked to negativity and, at least for me, making it positive.
One of the days I looked forward to in elementary school was RIF(Reading Is Fundamental) day. For those of you unfamiliar with this wonderful program, it is a day when children are given the opportunity to select a book of their choice(out of what has been provided/donated), and then they get to take it for free. Oh, the glory of a new book. The smell of the pages is amazing. The sense of discovery and the anticipation of a new world about to unfold. I would choose carefully, not rushing like my classmates. Reading the backs and looking for the one that leapt up and caught my imagination.
Yes, it’s true that RIF is responsable for what I refer to as my Barnes and Nobel “habit,” but it aslo brought me some early freinds, adventures and role models. Most memorable(at least today), was Encyclopedia Brown. What a great character, Sherlock Holmes in prepubecent form. Who better to capture the mind of a young knowledge seeker whose physical abilities were not as great as the imagination trapped inside. He made it (dare I say) cool to be smart(at least for me), using his mind to solve the problem.
It’s been an age or two since I last revisited his world, and I’ve since learned that brain and brawn are needed cooperatively for optimum efficency. His presence for a young smallfry/egghead however, to learn that knowledge is a great tool, in my mind was definately, FUNdamental(oh, I know it’s a bad pun, but it is true).
Not bad. Well, bad for some. Today was a bit surreal. Things happening, swirling around me. They had nothing to do with me, yet played out in front of me like a reverse theater in the round where I was at the center and the action explodes all around me.
I’ve had these day before, though not often, and they always place me in a state of confusion. Again, the events had nothing to do with me and my activities and I did no mediation, but the drama was all encompassing.
No insights gained as of yet, but these rare days at least remind me that there are other stories in the world as well as my own, and it’s okay to let a chapter or two go out without my presence.
I have not explored enough of this world in reality. I’ve read and looked up and absorbed facts here and there, but I have not physically interacted with most of the places I’ve visited in my mind.
“I want to see mountains, Gandolf.”
To be fair, I’ve seen mountains(not lately, and I do miss them) but I’m speaking of other mountains in other places with other cultures. Other plains and valleys and rivers and islands. The siren call in the back of my skull is strong.
I fight with the logic of how, and who is to pay for these expeditions. I use this to keep me where I am but I hope that soon I can ignore this logic/fear and simply set off on a journey of exploration.
Singing. It’s one of the various skills that I have. I’ve been told that I’m good by family and friends(required by law), as well as others(usually karaoke patrons who’ve had a drink or seven). I’ve some raw talent and some formal training and in some moments of vanity, I imagine I’m a fair vocalist. Most importantly, it’s something that I enjoy doing even if I can’t stand to hear it in playback(with live performance monitors I focus on the volume, not the sounds). The oddity that I’ve never been able to figure out(one of them anyway) is that I have no clue as to how I aquired the desire to sing.
I understand the talent/genetic factor of a voice that some find pleasing and that choirs, schools and some coaching have allowed me to advance to a certain level, but I know not where the want, the need came from. Outside of the manditory “Happy Birthday to You” once a year, I have no memory of anyone singing to me. Ever. No lullabies that I know of were ever used to coax me into slumber. I cannot even pick out anyone in my family singing outside of church(the only time anyone other than myself has ever sung, they outright refuse to do it otherwise) and I was to young at the time to have developed the skill to pickout voices during those hymns(plus most of the church just droned the melody, men an octive lower), not that I found the hymns all that musically enticing.
My very first performance, and one of my early memories, was when I was five. Christmas Eve service at the church. I have a fairly vague recollection of rehearsal but I know I practiced and learned, because I was singing “Silent Night” in English and German and oh yeah, I was signing it too(I was so much smarter as a kid). I do not recall being nervous, I might have been, but I did not recognize that feeling until later in life. What I do remember is singing and signing and feeling that I was breathing something beautiful that I could not explain(then or now). I’ve seen what I think is the only picture of this, but it pales in comparison to the love I felt in that moment for the singing.
Since then I have sang with, for and to many people and even if I’ve aquired more technique, the adoration of the act still hums right along with me. I should dabble in it more than I do to be certain, as it feels great and I think/long for a time when I can find someone to not only sing with me, but to me. It’s one of those thoughts that count presents. I’m not looking for perfect pitch, just one who might give me…
There’s a few commercials for a beer company that I find very interesting. The premise is basically that regular(read: followers/sheep) drink other beer so, to be unique, drink this beer instead. Conform through non-conformity. Needless to say I’m not impressed by these ads, but it does get the mind a-thinkin’.
From my generation(at least as categorized by the general populace), I am a bit of an anomaly as I have not been modified through either tattoos or piercings. Not that I’m against them, they have the ability to be powerful expressions and beautiful works of art. I’ve just rarely had the urge to get one and whenever I’ve thought about getting one, I’m quick to remember that I’m not a fan of needles in flesh(mine especial), and that I’m not the kind of person who could pull off that kind of a statement. There was a time though, when it seemed as the majority of my peers(not precisely friends, just cohabitors of the age range) were getting themselves altered in these ways. In some way/shape/form, it was the rebellion of choice that has(seemingly for a great part of the populace) become the norm. The exotic become commonplace, the new and shocking now the tried and true and tired now slowly being displaced by newer and/or more elaborate transformations.
Oh and yeah, these and other augmentations/mutilations have also been around in one form or another since pretty much forever and a day(watch Taboo on the National Geographic Channel).
For now, I’ll focus a bit on what tats and piercings meant in my “world” and times:
Tattoos – Though not uncommon, a tattoo resembled different things to me. As a child I related on men to be either military or scary(Hell’s Angels) and now, eventhough exceptions abound, I find them laughably conformist(tribal armband I’m talking to you). On women, I was conditioned to perceive that as a sign of a ease(so to speak) and again regardless of the amount of exceptions, there are some tattoos that only increased this perception exponentially(small of the back tat, can you hear me?).
Piercing – Women went from one in each ear to multiples(and I’m a fan) to other areas of the face(not so enamored) and then other areas…but the navel ring draws my focus due to the fact that it’s now, along with the ears commonplace. On men, other than pirates, It went from NO, to which ear means you’re gay, to whatever/reaching for youth.
These rambling thoughts brought to you by Sidetrack: The Game.
Back to what I think is the point of the musing: “Rebelling”
There is of course a brilliant film that deals with this better than a simple post could ever cover and yet, as I reflect on the core concept of conforming to the “different/unique”, I’m brought back to the writings of the author/mystic/teacher known as Osho. He seems to have a valid point as to why rebellions fail after they succeed, but that will remain for another time. If I’m going to quote/reference that I need to be accurate and this has gone on too long for now…
Some time ago, I purchased a book entitled: “The World’s Shortest Stories,” edited by Steve Moss. In short(bad pun, I know), it is a collection of the best submissions to a story contest wherein the guiding rule is 55 words or less. Sound easy? You try cramming your grand opus onto a business card and still have it mean something. Moving on…
One night after finishing the book(and a couple glasses of the wine), I attempted to create my own under 55(I came in at 38, but that’s neither good or bad). It is what it is(aren’t all things), but I thought I put it out there/here. I have no title, but thoughts are always welcome.
The look. The dance. The exchange. The call. The courtship. The love. The ceremony. The life. The children. The joy. The sorrow. The years. The moment. The prognosis. The machines. The decision. The love. The plug.
I missed yesterday, hence I feel the need to double post today.
There’s a new show on the Sci-Fi channel called Mind Control with Darren Brown. If you can find it, watch. Mr. Brown(out of respect I address him, so hoping that he will not ever reduce me to a puddle of mental goo), makes no claims to the supernatural upfront. He has simply(?) studied human behavior, psychology, confidence and other techniques that allow him to not only anticipate, but manipulate behavior.
The show is of course edited for the benefit of the viewing public(even Mr. Brown admits that his experiments are never 100% successful), but the results are creepy good fun. Tonight though, he accomplished one of the ultimate geek fantasies: The Jedi Mind Trick.
Actually that is basically what he does, but in his experiment at the dog track(which he’s admitted to profiting from before) he looked like he needed a hooded cloak and a lightsaber.
Taking a clearly loosing ticket and it’s owner to the pay window(multiple times and for increased stakes) they hand the “winning” ticket to the cashier. The cashier and verification machine say no but then Mr. Brown steps up and says(I kid you not), “This is the dog you are looking for.” He is then promptly paid and apologized to.
The world is so lucky that I do not have that ability(for now), though I would only use it for good(or a good joke).
Sense memory moments sneak up on you, unless you’re an actor who uses the technique. For me, it’s usually a smell that takes me back and, one that’s been hitting me of late is fabric softener sheets. To be honest, I truly cannot tell the brands or fragrances apart, but when I get a whiff of one, Sherman sets the Wayback Machine for my childhood.
As a small one, I would go to my friends houses to play. Given the geographic local and demographics of me and my friends, the play areas for us was either outside or in the basement and in the basement somewhere was the “laundry room.” So now, when the aroma wafts over me, I am transported back to my youth, in a cave playing games/slaying dragons/exploring space…and I can faintly hear the roll of the die/the clicking of the D-pad and buttons, and the smell of soda pop.
And it makes me smile.
I spent the day as one today, and I’m sure it will not be my last. It does not really physically take anything away from the day(as far as productivity goes), but it is a painfully crisp reminder that I’m not where I am desiring to be. When recognised, it is a good motivation to move towards something at least resembling the ideal.
It’s a fairly common expression. Yet if one thinks about it too much(as I of course do about many topics), some interesting thought trains leave the station.
Bread, both the food and the musical group is fantastic(sorry carb haters and certain music snobs), but I’ll focus for now on the food. In my imagination I’ve a little fantasy of what may have been the first mad scientist of early mankind. Picture some outcast, firm in his or her desire to grind wheat into flour(and how even that idea came about), adding eggs, water, milk? Yeast of all things(the madness)!!! Letting it rise, kneading, the oven(fire) and later consuming this…thing? The horror! But the result was glorious, became accepted, adapted and improved upon(bananna…mmm) and evolved(cakes of all sorts).
Then, one day long ago(for some, still close for others), arose one who thought that tearing appart one’s bread was barbarism, and refused to take the time to find a knife, gague the proportion and cut the desired piece. “How could it be,” the process began, “that a loaf is upon purchase, precut?” So began the quest, and has become an enormous process by which the regular person is saved(a vague guess) about 10 to 30 seconds of labour.
I’m over simplifying(not to mention letting the mind add flourishes), but the advancement of bread technology was born of a want for convenience, as are many leaps forward in our daily bread.
Innovations, like all things have both positive and negative aspects, and for every step forward I sometimes wonder how many steps as a whole we lose. I know I’d be hard pressed to make a loaf from scratch if need be(or to remember important phone numbers if I ever lost my cell phone).
We all stand on the shoulders of those who come before us(to badly paraphrase another saying), but at times it’s good to remember what is, or may be forgotten as life becomes more simply complex, due to the next big thing.