Celebrating Writers and Artists

Something as arbitrary as—this—my 100th post, is an innocuous reason for celebration; albeit, I do have ten fingers and toes, so am able to recognize the peculiar, ingrained, some would say gravitational, pull of round numbers. And, celebrating arbitrary notions is more acceptable (to me) than the reasons many hold as sufficient to give them pause or to raise their glass. Celebrating births or deaths (90% of all national/federal/bank holidays) feels akin to complimenting someone on their overall appearance or their selection of vehicle — ridiculous (unless, of course, they had a hand in design or construction; Frankenstein and Ford: nice work). Consequently, I have very few things on my calendar worthy of a party. So, recognizing the rollover of my blog’s odometer is as good a reason as any for a small *hurrah*.

Today's hurrah is directed at you — who write and create — for us, who read and view. Please understand, I've walked this rocky trail before and stirred up more controversy with complements than one might expect from derision. Controversy is good. So, this time I replaced my 'labels' with my 'editorial eye and pen'. This is also intended to stir-the-pot, provide insight on what really constitues copyright violations and acceptable creative commmons license usages, and entertain my frequent (if merely lurking) readers.

If you are one of the following 20 Applaudable or Standing Ovational bloggers, and take umbrage with my editing (no matter if it was for length, content, clarity, spelling or grammar) rather than thinking of my rendition as demeaning, consider this a humble tribute. (If it bothers you so, so, so very much: hire a different editor to sing your praises.) And now for something catagorically less-is-more:

• Pick Yin at Life is Great is almost a Malaysian mirror of snapperhead (except not), with her photos in place of my Digital Renderings, and little speculative fiction, her film reviews and book opinions are interspersed with blog and helpful technical advice. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  I was driving home from the gym last night. It was almost eleven and raining quite heavily. I grumbled to myself about the possibility of getting wet after reaching home as my house has an uncovered porch, till I saw a bread man pedalling carefully on his bike in front of me.

  Just as I thanked God, ‘at least I have a roof on four wheels compared to him and his rotis all soaking wet’ (and then thought: I really should not complain at all), one of his High Five Wheat breads turned loose and fell rolling onto the wet road.

  “Alah... kesiannya!” I thought. It may have been just a loaf of very affordable bread to me, but to the bread man it was his bread and butter, literally. I followed behind him slowly in my car and then not one minute later, another loaf fell off! By the time both of us parted at a road junction, he'd lost five loaves of High Five Wheats. Worst of all I couldn’t do anything about it. It was raining and if I honked him (my mother’s suggestion, later), he would’ve thought I wanted him to go faster.

  I prayed for the bread man when I got home and reminded myself to think of the poor guy the next time I fuss about getting wet in the rain.





• 'Irishwind' at odium generis humani has amazing drive and zeal for a young writer, can overuse fuck as an adjective (a little more fucking adjectivial-imagination would be fucking adverbial-helpful), and comes close to not being included as an applaudable blogger because of her “alter-ego’s” membership in a weblog which is, arguably, candidate for worst blog in the blogosphere — nonetheless, here is an (edited) excerpt of her good-angry, blog:
  

  Sometimes it scares you when you think you're something else, when you have a feeling something's wrong with you. You feel it happening — like a disease you can never be cured of — eating you from inside. Every time you look at everyone else's perfect life you're one step closer to being consumed by your greed; to succumbing to the impulse of stripping them of what they possess, until they are blind, wasted, and helpless.

  Yes, stealing what was never yours. Ahh, the covetous monster you are.





• 'Spoonleg' at Spelunk in the Trunk prolifically writes a diary-opinion blog containing creative non-fiction stories centering around her family, work, and life-lessons. With a humorous wink-and-nudge, these stories never fail to entertain. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  I recently decided I needed to do something to get my fat ass into motion, which did not involve traversing the oft-tread path from bed to fridge. Since I figured exercise — in pretty much any form — is nothing more than high-priced torture, I decided to just go all the way and find the most unbearable, insufferable, incredibly horrific, kill-me-now-because-Hell-can't-be-THIS-bad, form of exercise known to man. Compared to this, the carnage in Full Metal Jacket is like an episode of the Smurfs. Lasik surgery performed by a chainsaw-wielding Stevie Wonder is less painful. Walking in on your parents having wild, viagra-assisted, butt sex in your bed is less traumatizing. Yes, my friends, I speak of Birkram Yoga.





• 'Davecat' at shouting to hear the echoes has uncanny insight into very interesting design (no matter the epoch), revels in his agoraphobia with his sacrosanct other and is a Standing Ovational blogger I’d willingly meet in the meat (if my tan and his lighter-shade-of-pale wouldn’t, like matter and anti-matter, cause universe implosion. . .maybe that’s the best reason). Here is an (edited) excerpt of his wonderful, acerbically humorous, blog:
  

  How many five year olds could I personally take on at once? If thrown in a gym with only the clothes on my back and a protective cup, I could take out probably fifty of them before I became too exhausted. If allowed the use of an offensive article, I'd go for a seven-foot length of chain. Not a heavy chain, but something like a dog lead, with that clip thing at the end — light, but damaging. Even if I couldn't take them all out on the first attack, it'd be more than enough to immobilize, whereupon I'd just go back and finish them off later.

  Do feel free to give your own personal estimations of how many five-year olds you could take out!

  Anyone responding with anything disparaging will be openly mocked, by the way, just so you know.





• 'French Maid Character' at the uglier house writes a diary-type blog in which she vents her frustrations, provides lessons based on life experiences and — sometimes with an overdose of dark, anger — an insightful glimpse which her readers can learn from. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  
  I feel a little bad regarding the bitchy comment I made yesterday about: '…my roommate probably wanted to fuck his houseguests'. In this particular instance it was doubtful (I hope), since he was on suicide watch for the young man and working with other agencies trying to provide support for the young man's partner. Neither of them are here anymore (and I really hope they're going to be OK). I talked to my roommate about it because I wanted to know why he needed to keep his shotgun at our neighbor's house for safekeeping. I expressed my concern about his capacity for taking on the responsibility of another person's will to live. Although we ended up having a fairly positive exchange, I stand by my assertion: it’s generally a safe assumption — my roommate wants to fuck his houseguests.





• 'Breadmaker' at unreasonable scenarios is almost a twisty-bun-combination of the two bloggers above Davecat and French Maid Character (not in a twin-goldfish-from-different-ponds way, but in a ‘koi versus carp’ way) and his applaudable diary and opinion-observation blog is riddled with wry insights and outsights. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  Maybe I should just let this play itself out. I imagine most of my recent health problems are due to this wretched house I live in, with it's dusty vents, leaky pipes, and roommates who smoke and cough everywhere — and of course the cat who leaves a thick trail of hair in his wake. The only reason I've stayed here so long is because the cat is adorable, the roommates are funny and lovable and my bedroom is really quite amazingly large. Plus, I really hate moving more than anything. But now that I've started to "fall apart" I think it's time for a change. I'm also going to try acupuncture, or Reiki (I can't decide.)





• 'Rezzee' and many others (like 'Raven' and 'Shamantic! The Wise') at rezzee's blog and unfounded shamanic shifting and powerful foolish wondering are docent questioners, anxious to listen and more willing to understand, who can be — occasionally — overly mellifluous, bordering on obfuscation, but who troll through the effluvium (each in their own applaudable way) only to return with sharable bounty which will enhance their reader’s knowledge (and maybe, awareness). These are (edited and paraphrased) excerpts from their insightfully interesting, blogs:

  We do our best to keep up with the latest and greatest in as many fields as possible, while all the time recognizing our personal insights can never oppose higher reason and scientifically tested findings, but must complement science and reason whenever the bigger picture is revealed (no matter what temporary contradiction now seems to appear). Yet, the main reason we study the external sciences is for the sheer wonder of it!

  Fear signals that something needs to shift (lest something in reality becomes a danger, rather than merely instructive — closer to a nightmare than a creative dream). When considering: global warming, what I fear is the attitude in which our society is mired, combined with all the heartless arguing and line-drawing. The global warming fuss, as I perceive it, is arguing for the sake of arguing and has more to do with attention-seeking and political strategizing than the actual expression of fear caused by an impending doom.





• 'Aibee' (Anna) at aibiffity writes (mostly, now) about her fecundity. Albeit focused in scope, she writes very lucidly about her thoughts, feelings, emotions, and actions which have placed her on the road to becoming a mother. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  I wanted a child who was better than me, so I chose a donor who was. He was the student I've never been, a musician and a thinker. That donor is lost to me now. The donor I got is someone who, while lovely, won't give this child the pieces missing in me.

  I fear for my child, I fear it being the sum of our deficits.

  From my donor’s perspective though, he said when we discussed this (and I use the term loosely, because, what do you call a conversation that starts and ends with his sentiments: if only it had happened differently?...Oh, I'm stuck on the if-only’s also, but I'm an introverted, rational, problem solver, so use my angst as a platform for solutions. He's, well, he's just stuck.) that he got someone who, if he could have chosen, had the attributes he'd want in the mother of his child.

  I got someone who's good at soccer.





• 'Bucky Four-Eyes' at The Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion is the US of A’s northern-bookend to Spoonleg’s southern one. They are similar in prose, prolificacy and pragmaticism (or lack thereof) while the writers are wildly different in almost every way. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  Apes, chimps, baboons, they're all monkeys to me. I am not a zoologist, and I may not even be continent, so allow me my sloppy species identification.

  In any case, eventually we found ourselves in front of the chimpanzee exhibit, where some chimps napped and a few pranced and cavorted for our amusement. We were standing in the middle of a decent-sized group of strangers when one of the female chimps flopped down on her back and flung her legs as wide open as they would go. We were lookin' right into the heart of her monkey allure. A few people politely suppressed giggles.

  Not my husband. He laughed heartily, and then said — loud enough to be heard in the fucking butterfly house, "Hey! She looks just like YOU, honey!"

  I just stood completely still and prayed for the monkeyhouse people to disperse and stop staring at me like...well, like the chimp with her ankles behind her ears.

  The whole thing just makes me paranoid about my shaving habits.





• 'FIST' at The Sagas of a Fist in a City, a relative newcomer in my Standing Ovationables, contains stark, stolid, yet tensile prose authored by a rhetorician now fisting the big-city whom I greatly admire (regardless of his contemporary author disdain). Here is an (edited) excerpt from his fantastically descriptive and poetic blog:

  Glowing from window to floor — then on towels, back of the door: orange streetlight streams in a dense diagonal. As splinter-glints from splashes wave along, off, from, white enamel, Fist gives a finger to the sky of night and city light, outside, as he drops deeper down in the width of warmth. The demands of the day almost past — silent, still, alone at last…only for a moment. Until the arrival of…the corner of a cherry tomato; slipped out from the well of anus, circling the tree of the leg, dragged by the sloshing current to the land's-end-of-toe — before dawdling along to settle on the plain-like expanse of gut. Beautiful thing!




• Catherine Thatch at laughingsky is a prolific and talented writer of period (periodical? — sorry, you’ll have to read her to understand this inside joke) speculative fiction; her commentary-type Standing Ovational blog is optimistically focused on life and — mostly — celebrates the glass containing a half-glimpse of full-ocean breeze. Here’s an (edited) excerpt:

  I never planned my off-the-face-of-the-Earth drop, before. But I'm glad I did, because of what I learned: planning-time is wasted-time. I now know, by experience, that I had it right all along: I just needed to step off the damn flight deck, right then, without contemplation. And not heed the words of the well intentioned (who wanted me to live life by their example). Abandoning my instinct-guided impulse — my Zen way — was a mistake.

  Planning is not for me. When people take the time to plan their large life changes, they fear the change! During the time spent planning they come to realize all the opportunities for chaos to reign and things to 'go wrong', they suffer anticipation stress, and they experience disappointment when their plan unravels (as it always does). I like my way, and now that I’ve tried it their way, I know that for sure.

  Although my mind will never be closed to doing things differently, I’ll never tell my gut to shut up and listen to the real adults ever again.





• Miram Jones, at scribblingwoman, seems to voraciously comb thru, troll the depths of, and poach from the web of internets — providing incalculable (in both quantity and quality) amounts of links. This, combined with her applaudable book and art recommendations, is a place for every one-stop-blog-hopper. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  I went to bed with a migraine. This means that I took some meds then ensconced myself in a complicated apparatus of pillows, ice packs, eye-shades and ear plugs. The Jinker Boy hovered, solicitous.

  When I woke up a few hours later, after he had gone to bed, I found myself surrounded by a number of very small toys tucked into the crook of my shoulder and leaning up against my head. There was one in my hand.

  And my headache was gone.

  Coincidence?





• 'Scoots' and his friends over at Yes But Still ... study human nature and provide their unique brand of slant on routine Gen-Y nothingness (not Seinfeldesque exactly, but forked from the same Big Salad) even though none of the YBS contributors should fear the 'wordy' brand, Scoots can shine a humorous glow-stick with his prolific insights. Here are (edited) excerpts:

  Never try to enter an ongoing conversation, which you've had no part in, by throwing out a witty rejoinder that will cement you in legend forever: it never works. However, remarkably similar arsenals of cultural references can allow for a synergistic effect to take conversations on completely bizarre paths.

  "The next time I speak to a girl who isn't sleeping with three other guys, I'll be sure not to involve Bob Saget," is one such statement.

  But, all appearances to the contrary, I have yet to reach the true gist of my post, which is this, and by "this" I mean the bit of this sentence preceding "which is this."





• 'Kirihargie' (Kirstin) who can be seen at noncestralite, among other places, is an artist extraordinaire with wonderfully attuned — innate — eye-sense, which she relates into intimate images and words (which, at times, may include intricately personal thoughts and shots, which others may be unable to fathom or find relevant). Here is one selection of many:
  
  
  
  






• Laurie at divinities has an uncanny awareness of a story’s pacing and an extremely engaging tone, making her one of the most entertaining writers in the daily-diary niche (it’s amazing she isn’t writing romance novels for a living) although I can’t relate to her on any level other than that of 'loyal reader,' I consistently enjoy her finely-tuned life vignette’s. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  “He's in love with me," she offered, taking a sip of her Malibu Rum and pineapple juice drink.

  "Oh, is he?" I asked.

  "Yeah. Which kind of works out for me, because when I was asked to be in this wedding, I said 'Well, only if I can find someone to sleep with in the wedding party.' And, as it turns out, Jason's not half bad. Besides, I don't have anyone else, so, you know..."

  She laughed, but I couldn't figure out if she was joking. I took another look at Jason, spinning furiously now around the other dancers on the floor, making himself dizzy and laughing out loud. I looked back at Amy, perfectly put together in her bridesmaid ensemble. Not a hair out of place. The makeup she wore on her delicate features was flawless. Her teeth were impossibly white. I looked back at Jason. He was doubled over near the stage, trying to catch his breath and reclaim his ability to see straight.

  "Are you kidding me?" I asked.





• John Bailey's writing and art, at journal of a writing man, comes from the mind of a calm but exceptionally creative non-fiction writer and painter. Although his palette is conservative in it's structure and tone, relative to most elderly British gentlemen, he’s positively flamboyant. Here's an (edited) excerpt:

  "Right. People have been getting wonky legs and stuff since time began. Nothing new in it."

  And there isn't, of course, unless I care to take a sour note and point out that it's new for me. I'm not inclined to be sour about it, though, even if I do need, and seek, a good kick up the backside now and then when the miseries come a'calling.

  So, I did the big sigh thing, pulled out my paint box and brushes, taped a postcard onto my small drawing board, closed my eyes and... out popped the below rural cottage scene. Triggered by an isolated house I saw by a small inland loch on Skye, if I have it right. Doesn't matter, of course. I'm still enjoying doing the postcards, and I confess that my head is filled with similar scenes just now. It'd be rather nice to be out in the fresh air sketching them from life. But for the moment, I'm not inclined to wander far from home. I need to be on hand to make tea.

  






• Dana at Sepia-Tone Dreams matches her ability to analyze and become self-aware with her ability to write, albeit with a distinctly candid voice in her diary-type blog, (which misses being Standing Ovational only because of infrequent posts, even though when she does write it can be novella-length). Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  Why am I going across the entire country to a hospital, at no small expense? Because it's a specialty facility, which deals with women with dissociative disorders like I have. One of the difficulties of dealing with this kind of mental illness is there aren't many psychologists who specialize in it. So, years of therapy are often wasted in trying to address symptoms (anger issues, bipolar or borderline issues, post traumatic stress, alcohol and drug abuse, sexual and intimacy issues) and not with the disorder causing them. Often because (like with me) it goes undiagnosed for so long. So I'll be going through some fairly intensive therapy designed to help integrate the "various alts" I've created to deal with past trauma, and—to a lesser degree—my everyday life. Which makes me think of a scene in my favorite movie where Wesley (as Dread Pirate Roberts) tells Princess Buttercup: "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone telling you different is selling something".

  And, while life isn't all pain, in the past I've focused so much on that aspect, I sometimes forget about the joys.




• 'Penda' (MontiLee) can be found at The Diner at Penda’s Relm, (among others places) but her diner is a great place to read about interestingly morbid world-happenings couched in pointed, witty, commentary (not exactly Daily Show commentary, but not more than a few cushions away), and also some extremely superior fiction and creative non-fiction-with-a-smirk (the best flavor). Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  The women knocked on my door and asked if I had anything to kill wasps which had taken up residence in two old cars they'd just sold. They are sweet, these women, and older — and once you get past the gruff exterior, they have amazing wit. They are women who have lived life fighting and getting fought, and they are fun to talk to. I set out to help.

  Once the new owner of the vehicles arrived, a brother-in-law of one of the women, I decided to hang around because this guy didn’t look like the quickest cat on the freeway. She’d been making jokes about his mental capacity since before he arrived. He looked like a dirty Homer and smelled like old oily rags. He hooked up cables between his car and one of the dewasped cars, started his, and then told my neighbor, "okay, start her up."

  I said, "It’s a dead battery. You need to let it charge about ten minutes before you can try to start it." But I, apparently, had phased into a space-time parallel where all he could hear from me is what sounds like the buzzing of insects. I sighed audibly and watched as one of the well-meaning women tried to start the car. Nothing happened. What a surprise. Dirty Homer fiddled with the cables (because that must be the problem) and told her to try again. The car cranked but didn’t turn over.

  "You can try to jump it, but it’s a dead cell and may need a complete recharge," I said. It must have came out as white noise. I then said, "For ten bucks, the guy at the corner station will put it on his charger for an hour."

  He—and I’m not kidding—swatted at his ear.




• Danielle Thorburn at Fluffmuppet takes on NYC is a keen-eyed artist with a unique and playful flair in her digital renderings, opinion pieces, and creative non-fiction stories, although her blog’s productivity is prone to tide-like fluctuations, it remains Standing Ovationable. Here is an (edited) excerpt:

  I did some hardcore thinking on those concrete steps, taking in the vibe of my new house and settling into singledom (sometimes wondering if what mum told me about sitting on concrete and hemorrhoids were true). I was never alone out there, though; somewhere in my sight would be a neighborhood cat, skulking around a rose bush or walking like a supermodel on the chain link fence. I wooed those kitties with bodega cat food and scraps from the fish shop. I made them my furry new mates. Soon enough a mama cat brought her kittens over to meet me, I would hand feed them, imagining that I was like a urban Diane Fossy taming the wild beasts of the Brooklyn Jungle. And it wasn't long before I made mental notes of what boy cat shagged what girl cat and whose babies came from whom. I concentrated mainly on the cats which hung-out in neighbor’s yards and mine. I came up with this:
  

  

Mozilla Insights

For those who use Mozilla Firefox as their browser, here's a neat-o-keen-o (which I just became aware of, maybe you already knew):

1. Load up as many tabs as there are blogs or sites that you routinely read, including your own, your e-mail, etc. (I did this by clicking the 'home' button ten times or so, then opening each tab and clicking on one of my Standing Ovationals or Applaudables, until all the sites I enjoy reading were displayed across top).
2. Go to 'Tools', 'Options', and then click the 'Use Current Pages' button.
3. Now your Home Pages will be all the sites you read.
   

Book recommendation: The Best American Science and Nature Writing

This series, edited by Tim Folger — and specifically this 2004 edition, edited by Steven Pinker — is filled to the proverbial brim with interesting articles and short essays expertly plucked from a wide range of publications. One need not be a dyed-in-the-wool Darwinian or even an advocate of unadulterated mother Earth to enjoy portions — or all — of this collection.

I especially loved the 12-page article: The Battle For Your Brain, which focused on current and future neuropharmaceutical drugs as well as "neuroethics" surrounding their use, proposed limitations, and delineations of 'therapy' and 'enhancement'. I found this unbiased article, written by Ronald Bailey, extremely well written and informative.

The article, We're All Gonna Die!, of similar length — and similarly enjoyed — is the polar opposite in terms of tone and entertainment-value of many non-fiction articles. Instead, Gregg Easterbrook lists the top ten methods and modes the human race currently fears it will be eradicated from the earth and then deconstructs each in turn. I was wonderfully entertained as I enhanced my knowledge.

And in a short article by Jonathan Rauch: Caring for Your Introvert, I learned why 75% of the people I've met in my life don't understand me (and — more importantly — why they don't want to understand me).

These are but three examples of twenty-five fantastic articles contained in this book. I highly recommend the paperback, which can be purchased online or at your local bookstore.

snooped and vandalized snapperhead

Just to pass along to whomever came a-calling within the walls: Thanks for not spray-painting your tag everywhere and pissing on my stuff. Although if you'd gone that far, I'd have noticed it sooner. Nonetheless, thanks for not fucking with my blog so much that I had to wipe my template clean and load an archived copy (which was a few days old) and re-do recent stuff.

To those who don't know to what I'm referring: Someone hacked my blog's password and then changed many--if not all--of my settings. First I noticed my archived months had changed to digital (I prefer the world-recognized: month and year; not illogical-land's: month-day-year, which poses questions like, "Is that the third of October or the tenth of March?").

I figured Blogger bumped to some defaut settings when they made improvements a week ago or so. I was wrong. Once I reailized my e-mail post and post editor were no longer visible, I examined every setting. The 'comments allowed' was changed to 'registered users only', the clock was changed to 'AM/PM stamp' instead of the logical '24-hour clock'. Hell, almost everything that could have been dicked with, was.

None of the posts seem to be changed (although I haven't re-read many of the old ones, there may be altered text I have not found).

I've changed my password and have backed-up my template.

Maybe this was someone's fun and games. I will use it as a lesson learned.

film reviews (late spring 2005)

Off the Map (2003) directed by Campbell Scott (Big Night, 1996); starring Valentina de Angelis and Joan Allen: Snaprating=Keeper, RE-ORDER theme (CHARACTER secondary theme). The WFT film Secondhand Lions aspires to become as tightly directed and wonderfully scripted as this insightful glimpse of a precocious 12 year old girl, her family, and friends.

Kung Fu Hustle (Gong Fu) (2004) directed by Stephen Chow (Shaolin Soccer, 2001); starring Stephen Chow and Qiu Yuen: Snaprating=Keeper, PROBLEM theme. Far more over-the-top than a Warner Brothers cartoon, kung-foolishness fans (who enjoy Jackie Chan movies) will get their fill of giggles while being thrilled by constant CGI-slap-stick, stomp-stick, and crush-stick.

The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill (2003) directed by Judy Irving (Kids by the Bay, 1999); starring Mark Bittner and a flock of parrots: Snaprating=Cheaper, CHARACTER theme. Documentary fans should be captivated by this endearing 'Crumb meets Animal Planet' nature film.

The Interpreter (2005) directed by Sydney Pollack (The Firm, 1993); starring Nicole Kidman and Sean Penn: Snaprating=WFD, PROBLEM theme (MILIEU secondary theme). Pollack's signature 'tiny pool of A-list actors' and a bland script hurts this routine political-thriller in which the United Nations building is the most interesting thing to watch. He did it better in the Keeper: Three Days of the Condor.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005) directed by Garth Jennings (big-screen directorial debut); starring Sam Rockwell and Mos Def: Snaprating=WFD, MILIEU theme (PROBLEM sub-theme). Fans of dry British humor (who enjoy the adherence of the Harry Potter films to their books) may be unhappy with this oblique sketch of Douglas Adams's book because of a dumbed-down script and poor CGI -- even though it's novelty and uniqueness outweighs it's vagary and camp.

Crash (2004) directed by Paul Haggis (big-screen directorial debut, screenwriter of Million Dollar Baby, 2004); starring Don Cheadle, Michael Pena, Sandra Bullock and many others: Snaprating=Cheaper, RE-ORDER theme. This somber snakes-and-ladders-game, (with every flavor of hate on display) effectively combines: 21 Grams and Thirteen Conversations About the Same Thing, insuring you feel dismayed with your fellow-man, upset, and maybe even angry when the credits roll.

Palindromes (2004) directed by Todd Solondz (Happiness, 1998); starring Ellen Barkin and Richard Masur: Snaprating=Cheaper, CHARACTER theme. Solondz fans, and fans of other directors who cause you to pause and think, will overlook the grainy quality of this disturbingly-unique examination of abortion, statutory rape, and pedophilia, which is almost (but not really) a sequel to Welcome To The Dollhouse.

Mindhunters (2003-2005) directed by Renny Harlin (Deep Blue Sea, 1999); starring LL Cool J and Val Kilmer: Snaprating=WFC, PROBLEM theme. Fans who liked My Little Eye, Identity or The Cube will find (this time around) our clueless victims are unbelievable FBI Agents in this over-cooked and over-edited example of a closed-box slasher-movie--but many may still enjoy the exercise of identifying the killer before he's the last one alive.

Snaprating Legend

Book Ratings

I was asked, in the meat, if my book recommendations had a star-scale similar to my film scale. I responded, "of course". And then posed a question (the answer of which would provide me with necessary seconds to think and compose a scale, which I figured would not be difficult). I was wrong. So, I blathered an incomplete answer and then confessed. "I obviously haven't thought it through."

This is my result of thinking it thru:

• Hardback: Worth new-cover publishers retail hardback price (currently approaching thirty dollars US). The term Hardback is not used to infer a book is available in hardback, merely that it is worth this price. Only books considered worth re-reading time and time again are worth this price.
  
  
• Paperback: Worth new-cover retail paperback price and the six to twelve month wait (currently ten dollars or slightly more).
  
  
• WFU: Wait For Used, worth waiting for availability at a used book store; web-based or locally, availability always fluctuates and some authors never stay on used bookstore shelves. Second-hand bookstores normally begin at half the cover price and fluctuate depending on supply and demand. With gas or postage, average cost is seven dollars.
  
  
• WFL: Wait For Library, worth waiting for availability at your local library (unpredicatable range of time from months to years, depending on your library). The public library is normally free, but with gas and occasional late-fees, average cost is one dollar.
  
  
• WFT: Waste of Fucking Time, reading this book would be a mistake. If you are at all intrigued by the story: Wait For Themovie.
  
  

one station eighteen

digital rendering by veach st. glines, creative commons license 2005

Confused by Shifting Mutterings & Dearth

Visiting and re-visiting my applaudables and standing ovationables, lately, I sorrowfully noticed that a few have -- for many unfortunate months -- fallen into neglect. I'm not concerned about multiple week sabbaticals and even month-long absences (which are almost always prefaced with a 'gone fishin' notice of one kind or another) but rather the few who simply departed without a kindly nod to us, me, their attentive readers.

Although the art of the web-based-log is something every individual has to measure by their own reach, no matter how limited, I do not applaud blogs with months of vacancy and dearth.

I say, then, fare-thee-well to:

• life in jail
  
• homelessness survival guide
  
• bug blog

You will be missed by me. I enjoyed your words, stories, and insights.

On a totally different note, which is along the same vein, I read the following (which clearly confused me) at unfounded shamanic shifting & powerful foolish wondering:

Last night, as I was reading some favorite weblogs, I became aware of a creepy, fearful, dismay (sic) reaction defusing through me, from from my toes on up - because I was realizing that the likes of us are likely to get booted out of the blogosphere for logging a grossly insufficient number of cogent, critical, cursive, cynical, or saucy copyright violating posts on our blogs. Our bloggings must seem bloggled, boggy, or soggy to many quicker witted pundits, and some of them could stumble upon our weblogs.

I wish to thank Shamantic! The Wise (STW) for his tip of the hat toward snapperhead, since his words 'favorite weblogs' linked here. But I'm confused as to what this paragraph means. I linked to 'saucy', further linked to the sites referenced there, and further linked to many of the sites that are further link-referenced.

Although I understand from all this that the non-profit 'Creative Commons License' organization has been accepted by a corporate ad agency (in a pro-bono manner) I do not understand at all why this is a bother to anyone. Who cares if BzzAgent is helping to promote CC for free? And if anyone gives even one tiny bumble-fart one way or the other, PLEASE explain why, because I'm plainly sutpi-mystified.

As equally mystified as I am when I read and re-read your paragraph. When you say, "...booted...for logging a grossly insufficient number of...copyright violating posts...must seem...soggy to...quicker witted pundits...", are you stating we should plagiarize more or plagiarize less? Is this sarcasm? Does this read as contradictory to others as it does to me? STW, seriously now, were you floating on a bit of nature when you composed this paragraph?

Since STW does not permit comments on his site, I post these questions here in hope that someone (some quicker witted pundit) will shed some light where I am blind.

Book Recommendation: One Door Away From Heaven

With alien-angels versus many colorful layers of evil (kind of like Neapolitan Ice Cream), Dean Koontz's writing is true-to-form, comfortable and in a familiar, par-level groove. This problem-themed story contains several intricate and interesting characters who narrowly escape death about every fifteen pages (until the last chapter when they escape every fifteen sentences or so). Although nothing new for quality Koontz, it also -- however -- contains nothing surprisingly unexpected or extremely engrossing. A 'quick read' which is skillfully crafted and enjoyable; don't spend more than a buck for the paperback at a used book store if it is not available for free at your local library.

snaarked film meme

1. Total number of films I own on DVD or video: 49 DVDs. No video (any longer).
   
   
2. Last film I bought: Hero (Ying xiong), 2002, directed by Yimou Zhang, starring Jet Li (Keeper-obviously).
   
   
3. Last film I watched: Mindhunters, 2003-2005, directed by Renny Harlin, starring LL Cool J and Val Kilmer (WFD, full review in a few weeks).
   
   
4. Five films that I watch a lot or mean a lot to me:
   
   • The Seven Samauri is the best 3 1/2 hour b&w film ever made. A litmus test film. Someone who falls asleep or can't sit through it can probably only be an aquaintance of mine, never a close friend.
     
   • High Fidelity; John Cusack making life-lists to the camera - hilarious and insightful.
     
   • Clerks; I loved laughing at it in the 90's waaaay too much.
     
   • The Quiet Earth; Although I haven't watched it in a while, it's one of those Aussie films that sticks in my head.
     
   • Bladerunner is one of the few films I re-watch/listen-to for background while painting.
     
   
   
5. To which five people am I passing the baton? No one, of course. Meme's, by their very nature, are in no need of my assistance; making their own way thru the ehr-waves.
   

berserk helix (k-cain-day lix)

digital rendering by veach st. glines, creative commons license 2005

Summary of Annual Meteor Showers

This excellent encapsulation by Mike Reynolds, of all things which are bright and moving -- fast -- through the night sky of the northern hemisphere, is available for purchase online (about 15$US). Everyone who enjoys shooting-star gazing should own a copy. I find this excerpt very helpful (major showers are in bold):

ANNUAL METEOR SHOWERS

Active Period	Peak Days	Zenithal Hourly Rate
28 DEC - 7 JAN 28 DEC - 28 JAN 14 DEC - 14 FEB 13 JAN - 13 FEB 31 JAN - 23 FEB 2 FEB - 19 MAR 13 FEB - 8 APR 14 FEB - 25 APR 24 FEB - 27 MAR 10 MAR - 21 APR 10 MAR - 6 MAY 5 APR - 21 APR 16 APR - 25 APR 15 APR - 7 MAY 21 APR - 12 MAY 1 MAY - 9 MAY 8 APR - 16 JUN 19 MAY - 19 JUN 21 MAY - 16 JUN 10 JUN - 21 JUN 1 JUN - 15 JUL 19 MAY - 2 JUL 27 JUN - 5 JUL 2 JUN - 29 JUL 9 JUL - 20 JUL 14 JUL - 18 AUG 15 JUL - 11 SEP 1 JUL - 18 SEP 12 AUG 17 JUL - 24 AUG 16 JUL - 10 SEP 9 AUG - 30 AUG 26 JUL - 1 SEP 11 AUG - 10 SEP 25 AUG - 6 SEP 1 SEP - 14 SEP 12 AUG - 7 OCT 20 SEP - 2 NOV 22 SEP - 23 OCT 7 SEP - 27 OCT 6 OCT - 9 OCT 10 OCT - 27 OCT 15 OCT - 29 OCT 17 SEP - 27 NOV 12 OCT - 2 DEC 25 SEP - 5 DEC 14 NOV - 21 NOV 13 NOV - 2 DEC 8 DEC - 2 JAN 16 NOV - 18 DEC 9 NOV - 18 DEC 6 DEC - 19 DEC 12 DEC - 23 JAN 17 DEC - 25 DEC 11 DEC - 21 JAN	3-4 JAN 8 & 21 JAN 17 JAN 24 - 31 JAN 5 - 10 FEB 22 FEB 3 - 9 MAR around 20 MAR around 18 MAR around 20 MAR 7 - 18 APR 14 - 15 APR 21 or 22 APR 30 APR (varies) 5 MAY 6 MAY 18 - 19 MAY 9 JUN 10 JUN 15 JUN 18 JUN 20 JUN 28 JUN 27 JUN 14 JUL 29 JUL 1 AUG 6 AUG 12 AUG 12 or 13 AUG 13 AUG 13 - 14 AUG 18 AUG 25 AUG 1 SEP 7 SEP 11 SEP First Week of OCT 6 - 15 OCT 8 OCT 8 OCT 19 OCT 21 OCT 30 OCT - 7 NOV 4 - 7 NOV Around 14 NOV 17 NOV 21 NOV 8 - 9 DEC 10 DEC 11 DEC 13 - 14 DEC 19 - 29? DEC 22 - 23 DEC 31 DEC	45 - 200 varies Up to 4 varies varies 3 - 5 2 - 5 3 - 4 1 - 2 1 - 3 5 - 10 up to 5 10 - 20 varies 20+ 2 - 6 2 - 3 1 - 2 10 up to 8 5 6 1 - 2 about 2 - 4 1 - 2 15 - 20 6 - 14 7 - 8 1 - 2 50 - 60 minimum up to 10 4 up to 6 5 - 10 up to 9 1 - 4 up to 5 varies varies 3 - 5 1 - storm of many thousands 1 - 2 25 - 30 about 7 about 7 up to 5 10 - 15+ 1 - 5 1 5 1 - 2 50 - 100 varies 10 - 20 varies

book recommendation: Nightwings

In the early 1970's Robert Silverberg was an author with an agenda. Not satisfied with merely penning a story with a moral or with an underlying message (which most writers do to some extent) this future-fantasy focuses on the vast mistakes of genetic tampering and mankind's callous disregard (disdain?) for other life-forms. From beginning to end, the "bad humans" dead-horse is kicked and kicked some more.
When I read an author who handles any subject with a heavy hand, I immediately suspect personal politics and religious zealotry guide the author's hand more than any imagination and creativity.
I enjoyed the characters, the setting(s), and the smoothly eloquent writing style, but I suspect the reason this book won a Hugo Award was because of it's 1974 political relevance.
This book is available at most major libraries.

Respite

Friendly and attentive readers,

This blogger is headed on a vacation to the White Mountains. Pine cabins, fireplaces, hiking, swimming, reading, and all things non-electric. I depart immediately after a morning Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy matinee, and will not be blogging again for a week or so.

In the interim, visit any of my standing ovationable blogs, and -- if time permits -- visit my applaudable blogs. All are worthy of your viewership or a long read.

book recommendation: The Architect of Sleep

Because the central characters are intelligent raccoons, many may consider this a work of fantasy. In my opinion, it's simply an alternate-universe speculative fiction story with communication as the primary focus.

The first pages snagged me with their smooth, believable style. However, once the back cover of the book loomed closer, I suspected and eventually realized there was no fucking way this story would be completed in one throw. On the last three pages, readers are left with a muddy, confusing, unresolved dangle over the edge of an unknown abyss.

I re-examined the front and back covers. (Although I always look for series-traps, especially when selecting sf or fantasy novels, I doubted myself and re-scanned everything.) Not one hint. No mention of: “First in the Truck series” or, “Book one of …” and, worst of all, the covers contained quotes using the word: book; nowhere was the word trilogy used.

If QT released Kill Bill and neglected to mention it was the first of a two-part film, audiences would have felt like suckers. This is worse. This book is almost a quarter of a century old and Stephen R. Boyett never wrote a sequel (although I’ve — now — learned it may be partially poorly written and just unpublishable). The author has a website where he begrudgingly blames himself for being 'young when he wrote it'). The publisher (Ace) gets much bashing and blame. I blame only the author. I no longer give one hoot why no caveat lector was included on the book cover. He sold an unfinished story. I’ll never pick up another book of Boyett’s. Neither should you.

Consider this the last book in the world worth reading. If there's a planet-wide catastrophic holocaust and you find yourself in an underground bunker with this book: It's not completely useless. You'll need something to wipe your ass with.

Keeper Alert

To provide more timely reviews for Keeper films, (it can be difficult to catch a film at a first-run theater if following bi-seasonal reviews) I will be providing 'Keeper reviews' with more immediacy as well as every six-weeks.

Off the Map (2003) directed by Campbell Scott (Big Night, 1996); starring Valentina de Angelis and Joan Allen: Snaprating=Keeper, RE-ORDER theme (CHARACTER secondary theme). The WFT film Secondhand Lions aspires to become as tightly directed and wonderfully scripted as this insightful glimpse of a precocious 12 year old girl, her family, and friends.


Kung Fu Hustle (Gong Fu) (2004) directed by Stephen Chow (Shaolin Soccer, 2001); starring Stephen Chow and Qiu Yuen: Snaprating=Keeper, PROBLEM theme. Far more over-the-top than a Warner Brothers cartoon, kung-foolishness fans (who enjoy Jackie Chan movies) will get their fill of giggles while being thrilled by constant CGI-slap-stick, stomp-stick, and crush-stick.

Critique of the Critic

Film critics — both professional and amateur — are, mostly, verbose assholes. Amateur does not mean unprofessional (in this instance) but merely someone providing altruistic film recommendations.

Everyone needs a film umpire; I’m no exception. I suspect, however, that most professional critics are confused as to why they write film reviews. Since the only reason to read a review is to determine if a film is worth watching — there’s only one reason to write them, which is to either recommend a film to readers, or warn them away from one. That’s it. The film reviews I read (and the critics who write them) fall into four categories:

1. Name Droppers feel the need to prove they really watched the film and also accomplished extensive research afterwards. They pack their rambling reviews with obscure references, titles, famous names, and about a hectare and a half of unneeded shit.
2. Book Report-ers always include a near-complete description of the entire film. Unless they’re paid by the word, there’s no reason to incessantly blather about details, which have no bearing on recommending or not recommending the film.
3. Film Snobs believe their ability to construct a complex sentence using non-vocabulary words, somehow improves their review. Bullshit. It only proves they don’t know their readers, or why they are writing. Film Snobs dislike most films and are condescending in their reviews.
4. Gen Y-ers think the attention span of their audience is as short as their own and, therefore, rant in sound-bytes. They never compare films to others and expect readers to follow their advice without explanation or reason.

My film reviews are constructed to be concisely informative and assist my readers in selecting films. This was extracted from my ‘early spring 05’ review:

Millions (2004) directed by Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 1996); starring Alexander Nathan Etel and James Nesbitt: Snaprating=Keeper, PROBLEM-theme (CHARACTER secondary theme). Etel's adorable quirky-sweetness causes this 'Sleepless In Seattle meets Pay It Forward' to shine above the mass of other British 'found loot' films.

In less than fifty words, my encapsulation of Millons offers the following blocks of information:

• Title.
  
• Year of release. (To avoid confusion with like-named films)
  
• Director’s name. (Film makers create consistently — remember your favorites)
  
• Previous film from this director. (For those who forget their favorite directors)
  
• Main actors. (For those who want to watch their favorite actors)
  
• Snaprating. (Best to worst: Keeper, Cheaper, WFD, WFC, WFT)
  
• Theme(s). (All films fit into four: Milieu, Character, Problem, Re-Order)
  
• Brief comparison. (with others which share its characteristics)

Michael Wilmington, a critic with the Chicago Tribune, utilized over 675 words to recommend Millions. Beginning by awarding three and a half stars out of a possible four (although I can find no explanation for his stars, what they mean, or why nine ranks — with zero as the lowest — are needed), and then in typical Book Report-er style, he describes the entire film in unnecessary detail [“…not millions actually, but 229,320 pounds…more than $400,000…”]. In his twelve paragraphs, Wilmington’s redundancy competes with his personal bias. He cites the director three times and lists Trainspotting as a previous film of his, twice. In Name Dropper style, Wilmington lists unneeded proof of his research [“…ace Dogma 95 cinemtographer Anthony Dod Mantle…”] and provides his opinion as to what was in the director’s mind [“…It’s a fable…a Christian morality play/fantasy about Mammon and the soul of man…”].

Nick Schager, a critic with Slant Magazine, only needed 400 words to label Millions as worthy of two and a half stars out of a possible four (ditto on his explanations). In a perfect combination of Film Snob and Name Dropper (a must, in order to be a Slant employee), Schager trumpets his disdain from his opening [“Sure to be Sally Struthers's all-time favorite film…”] to his close [“…given the devalued state of current Hollywood kid's pictures, Boyle's lighthearted fairy tale nonetheless slightly outperforms…”].

Kyle Smith, a reviewer with the New York Post, (who hasn’t seen many films in his short life) also used a little over 400 words to label Millons as worthy of two and half stars out of a possible four. In strong Gen Y style, Smith throws around a flurry of snippets [“Flashy, messy kids' tale.”], [“…a jittery jumble, a weird Christmas fable…”], [“…a fantasy even less likely than a visit from Saint Nicholas, but never mind] and [“…this enchilada is so overstuffed, it's falling apart.”] but with all his pointless paragraph-sentences, he doesn’t communicate anything of value.

film reviews (early spring 2005)

Ong Bak: The Thai Warrior (2003) directed by Prachya Pinkaew (US directorial debuit); starring Tony Jaa and Petchtai Wongkamlao: Snaprating=Cheaper, PROBLEM-theme (MILIEU secondary theme). Martial arts fans looking for a new face performing non-CGI, non-wired, ass kicking's--in the tradition of Fists of Fury--will be legitimately enthralled by the loosely choreographed roughness and may forgive poor lighting and sophomoric editing.


Robots (2005) directed by Chris Wedge (Ice Age, 2002); voices of Ewan McGregor and Robin Williams: Adult Snaprating=WFC, Gradeschool Snaprating=Cheaper, MILIEU-theme. Very young animation fans will laugh at the fart and butt jokes and enjoy the many first-person roller coaster scenes (done better in Polar Express) but may not catch every rapid-fire gag jammed into this worn-out, retreaded, hick-makes-good-in-the-city script.


The Upside of Anger (2005) directed by Mike Binder (Blankman, 1994); starring Joan Allen and Kevin Costner: Snaprating=WFC, RE-ORDER theme. Fans of the subdued, intense, character, which is consistantly portrayed by Allen (The Contender) will be pleased to watch her banter with Kostner's familiar ex-baseball character in this plodding melange rife with directorial filmic errors.


Millions (2004) directed by Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 1996); starring Alexander Nathan Etel and James Nesbitt: Snaprating=Keeper, PROBLEM-theme (CHARACTER secondary theme). Etel's adorable quirky-sweetness causes this 'Sleepless In Seattle meets Pay It Forward' to shine above the mass of other British 'found loot' films.


Tarnation (2003) directed by Jonathan Caouette (directorial debut); starring Jonathan Caouette and Renee Leblanc: Snaprating=Cheaper, CHARACTER-theme. Fans of What the #$*! Do We Know!? will adore the exceptional editing and soundtrack of this stunning, unique, autobiographical-documentary, which--like an angst-driven, 90-minute expressionist video--plays the emotionally-charged card quite well.


Frank Miller's Sin City (2005) directed by Robert Rodriguez (Once Upon a Time in Mexico, 2003); starring Bruce Willis, Mickey Rourke, Brittany Murphy and many others: Snaprating=Keeper, RE-ORDER-theme (MILIEU secondary theme). Graphic novel afficionados and fans of Pulp Fiction will worship this tight yet over-the-top stagesque rendering and character melange, which moves the 'unique bar' high, so very high.


Downfall (Der Untergang) (2004) directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel (The Experiment, 2001); starring Bruno Ganz and Alexandra Maria Lara: Snaprating=WFD, CHARACTER-theme. Historical film fans will overlook the length and claustrophobic settings of this war movie and applaud Hitler's secretary's perspective of his last few days.


Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004) directed by Brad Silberling (Moonlight Mile, 2002); starring Jim Carrey and Meryl Streep: Snaprating=WFD, PROBLEM-theme (MILIEU secondary theme). Jim Carrey fans will enjoy his familiar antics and overlook the weak script in this cute yet unfunny attempt to do what The Princess Bride (a Keeper) accomplished in pre-CGI days.


Schultze Gets the Blues (2003) directed by Michael Schorr (directorial debut); starring Horst Krause and Karl Fred Müller: Snaprating=WFD, CHARACTER-theme. Fans of slice-of-life films depicting odd characters turning over a new leaf, like The Station Agent, may enjoy this 'still-waters-run-deep' film.


The Woodsman (2004) directed by Nicole Kassell (directorial debut); starring Keven Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick: Snaprating=WFC, CHARACTER-theme. Poorly directed, with a simplistic story-line sparse on between-the-lines message, this snapshot would have gone direct to dvd without big name actors (and should have gone direct to cable).


The Chronicles of Riddick (Directors Cut) (2004) directed by David Twohy (Pitch Black, 2000); starring Vin Diesel and Alexa Davalos: Snaprating=WFD, RE-ORDER-theme (secondary MILIEU theme). Riddick fans, and fans of the Blade trilogy, will overlook the grainy CGI, humorous costumes, and campy script to enjoy a familiar suspense in new settings.


Vera Drake (2004) directed by Mike Leigh (Secrets & Lies, 1996); starring Imelda Staunton and Richard Graham: Snaprating=WFC, CHARACTER-theme. If fans of PP-BOATS (Period Piece's, Based On A True Story) can overlook Leigh's signature 'garbled dialogue' further confabulated with incessant bleary-eyed whining, they may be intrigued by this moral-legal debate with lack-of-criminal-intent as it's focal point.


Japón (2002) directed by Carlos Reygadas (directorial debut); starring Alejandro Ferretis and Magdalena Flores: Snaprating=WFT, MILIEU-theme (weak secondary CHARACTER theme). Fans of sad characters plodding through a beautiful landscape pock-marked by pain, may be duped (by the misguided belief: "art is difficult to understand") into thinking that the grainy quality, sloppy direction, and weak story are intentional. Bullshit. The fools at Cannes who awarded it are naive for not recognizing it as such.


Ray (2004) directed by Taylor Hackford (An Officer and a Gentleman, 1982); starring Jamie Foxx and Kerry Washington: Snaprating=WFD, CHARACTER-theme. Not to down-play Foxx's superb ability, but bio-pic fans will discover this to be just another attempt to make up for plot-shortage by allowing a character's weaknesses and mistakes to dominate and overshadow the life story.

six and seventy

digital rendering by veach st. glines, creative commons license 2005

seven and seventy

Don't spend money to dry clean your shirt. Instead, donate it to the Salvation Army or Goodwill. They'll clean it and put it on a hanger. The next morning, buy your shirt back for seventy-seven cents. -- Snapperhead misquoting William Coronel

digital rendering by veach st. glines, creative commons license 2005

Doggonit

I'm a Xoloitzcuintli (Xolo), a Mexican hairless dog.

Find out what kind of dog you are at Gone to the Dogs.

rhymen standard-pennant

The herder drives away and kills the wolf, for which the sheep thanks him as a liberator and the wolf denounces him as the destroyer of liberty. Clearly, sheep and wolves will never agree on a definition of liberty, but they also will never agree as to whether the herder should be canonized or damned. -- Snapperhead misquoting Abraham Lincoln

digital rendering by veach st. glines, creative commons license 2005

Pox upon Davecat!

I've seen this meme around for weeks and, of course, mentally disparaged the answers of others while thinking I'd never get the tap. Now that Davecat has (the pox) tapped me, you may disparage my answers forthwith:

You’re stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?

Fahrenheit 451. (Oh yea? Fuck you, figure out the synchronicity yourself.)

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

I've punched the clown while watching anime porn, which trumps a simple crush like, like, ninety.

The last book you bought is:

Jonathan Carroll's Bones of the Moon, at a used bookstore for $4.

The last book you read:

The Shifting Realities of Philip K. Dick, Selected Literary and Philosophical Writings, edited by Lawrence Sutin (see 29 March's posting for my review).

What are you currently reading?

The Architect of Sleep, a fantasy about communication and animals, by Steven R. Boyett; and HTML Complete, 3d Edition which is a hard to chew, hard to digest nut-roll.

Five books you would take to a desert island:

Other people's answers to this one always stick in my ass. Five books, doesn't mean: collections, trilogies and libraries. If you cheat on a meme you are just cheating all us other bloggers, you pox-addled pikers!

1. An Island to Oneself: Six Years on a Desert Island, by Tom Neale
2. Saltwater Fishing, by Al Ristori
3. How to Build a Wooden Boat, by David C. McIntosh and Samuel F. Manning
4. The Ultimate Guide to Small Game and Varmint Hunting: How to Hunt Squirrels, Rabbits, Hares, Woodchucks, Coyotes, Foxes and More, by H. Lea Lawrence
5. Trapper's Bible: Traps, Snares & Pathguards, by Dale Martin

All you who took shit to actually read for entertainment won't be voting my ass off the island any time soon.

Who are you going to pass this to, (stick to 3 persons) and why?

No one. I don't want the Pox!

Can you Canoe*

     Two people in a canoe (stop me I you’ve heard this one) paddling upstream…

     Even if you grew up on a lake, you may be unfamiliar with some of the finer points of canoeing, so I’m going to explain some things you may already know, but—this is my analogy, so move your eyes along—these specific points are important to the getting-to-my-point part of the gisty-overall-nut.

     The person in the back of the canoe (I’ll defer from going too far, but realize I do know my aft from a port in the ground) steers as well as paddles.  The person in the front paddles and navigates.  (Because the front has the best view of submerged dangers.)

     Also, the person in the back—the driver—can easily see on which side the person in the front is paddling; important for steering, because when both paddle on the same side the canoe turns in that direction, and when each paddle with the same strength on opposite sides: it travels relatively straight.

     A J-stroke (turning the blade of the paddle away from the canoe at the end of the stroke) can correct the slight turn of the canoe caused by the initial power of the stroke.

     Feathering the paddle (at the end of each stroke, turning the wrist so the blade is parallel with the water surface) insures less air resistance as the paddle is brought forward and, more importantly, if the paddle accidentally strikes the water, it smoothly slices through and doesn’t alter the canoe's course of travel.

     The front person—the navigator—can’t see how the driver is paddling or feathering.  The navigator also can’t see if the driver is using a proper J-stroke, or even if the driver is no longer paddling but is using the paddle as a rudder.  The driver, on the other hand, can always tell when the navigator is not feathering, using a J-stroke, or paying attention for submerged objects.

     An easy canoe trip is spent drifting downstream.  This permits both people to do very little hard work.  The driver can steer without much effort.  The navigator doesn't have to constantly paddle and can just look out for underwater obstacles.  A marriage or committed-relationship (eventually I get to it) of downstream drifting consists of:

•      A downstream-navigator, watching the scenery float by, enjoying the knowledge that the driver will steer the canoe without much besides an occasional word of direction.
•      A downstream-driver, steering haphazardly, paddling only when absolutely necessary, and rarely asking his navigator for guidance.

     The upstream marriage is very different.  Each person knows they have a hard river ahead and must decide who is best capable of steering and who is going to provide direction.  Trust is needed, even before getting in the canoe.  A knowledgeable navigator is aware a lazy driver may go unnoticed until the navigator feels the canoe losing distance.  A wary driver knows an inattentive navigator may cause damage to the canoe.

     Upstream or downstream, it’s always easy at first.  No one’s tired.  It’s a new experience!  New-navigators don’t get distracted by the passing scenery (too much) and routinely call back, amid strong strokes, “we need to go left here” and “I think we need to stay waaay right of that rock”.  At the same time, new-drivers—with strength and proficiency—constantly feather, and, when their new-navigators paddle on the right, they switch to the left; when their new-navigators get tired and switch back, the attentive new-driver is ready to switch too.

     After a while, depending on the canoe, the couple, their individual stretch of river, and whether they are struggling upstream or coasting downstream, each person can get physically tired or mentally bored.  It’s a long upstream or downstream haul.  It never stops flowing.

     When the navigator gets tired and stops paddling:  A wise driver knows how to paddle and steer alone, asking if the navigator is OK; an incompetent driver criticizes and complains about doing all the work and at times may even go so far as to gripe, “watching for hidden logs is the simple and easy job”.

     When the driver gets tired and stops paddling or just steers:  A conscientious navigator knows it’s time to kick in some extra effort and J-stroke for two; a selfish navigator looks back and complains about doing all the work.

     When the canoe hits an underwater log:  An experienced driver knows the sun on the water can blind even the most attentive navigator and begins back paddling; a foolish driver places blame and hollers directions.  This incident can be further aggravated—with an un-trusting couple—if the log was hit when the navigator was looking back at the driver to criticize about a lack of effort.  It then becomes a, “see-what-you-did, not-my-fault-you-weren’t-paddling,” back and forth.

     When paddling a marriage upstream:  Both the driver and the navigator must work together.  Both must communicate: “I need a break, can you paddle alone for a while?”  By that, I mean:

•      If you are presently the navigator and know your driver will see when you stop paddling, so think it's redundant to mention it, you're wrong:  tell your driver anyway.
•      If you are currently the driver and suspect your navigator won't know if you just take a quick rest, you're wrong:  tell your navigator first.

     Although there are rarely any guarantees on the river of life, there are some certainties:  the logs and rocks just under the surface are always going to be there.  Canoe partners can't see each other's face, so talking is mandatory...don’t add to the submerged dangers by failing to communicate.

     To help ensure your canoe-partner doesn’t notice your canoe trip is no longer what they envisioned at the beginning (when fresh, dry, and still on the bank of the river) a few canoe-rules:

•      Never take your canoe-partner for granted or treat them disrespectfully.  Many canoer’s have the (vastly mistaken) impression that they'll be sharing their canoe with their partner — and will always remain in the same seat position — for their entire life!  (All that, ’til death do us part, shite.)  It shouldn’t be, but it is, an absolute shock to many canoers when they discover their partner wants to stop their canoe trip.
•      Never act like you have attained a tenured position.  The length of time spent in the canoe seems to have a bearing on the ease (or lack thereof) of getting out of it.  The more time both canoers invest in paddling the less willing they become, to get out.  This can be the impetus for a ridiculous belief (in one or both) that the invested time itself, somehow guarantees the canoe trip's longevity.  As one mistaken idea becomes a boatload—a careless canoer then treats their partner with disdain and acts selfishly, without regard for their responsibilities as driver or navigator.

     This eventually comes to an end when someone bravely plunges into the cold water to swim to the riverbank or to another canoe.

     I’ve successfully paddled canoes with a handful of significant others (usually as the driver, but I've navigated as well).  I steered or navigated those canoes to shore when the trips were over (at times reluctantly, usually enthusiastically).  Occasionally I got my feet a little damp.  If I had to jump in to get the canoe on the bank, I got my legs soaking wet.  I say this because, I’ve done it enough to know the water is not so cold that one can’t take it for a short period.

     I’m no longer looking for someone to help me paddle a canoe.  I currently share a rowboat with the perfect person to share it with.

     Be careful!  Not everyone can manage a rowboat.  It takes agility, trust, and strong communication.  One rows facing the stern, while the other navigates facing the rower and the bow.  When switching rowers—after one gets tired—be extremely careful to prevent capsizing.  And, when the tough spots arrive (as they always do) both people have to row side-by-side:  each with an oar gripped in their hands, only able to gauge where they are headed by watching where they've been.

     * posted 2005; update/re-post 2020

Dawn Begins at Zero Dark-Thirty

          Before dawn today, I discovered a blackbird commuter byway running directly over my house.  'Dawn' begins with the full stretch of black starlight touching every rocky and forested horizon and ends with the entire sun visible.  'Sunrise' is the exact moment it crests the horizon.  This morning, I watched the entire two-and-a-half-hour process of dawn and graduated from someone who enjoys watching the sunrise, to someone who enjoys the dawn.

          The blackbirds and ravens of Arizona are a courteous flock.  They dribble high overhead, in vague wavering clots of threes and fives; barely discernible from the pitch-blue sky, were it not for their passing between starlight and eye.  Conversing in low calls and deep throated bracks — out of respect for the many below them who slumber (of whom I normally am one).  I wonder if they are headed to get a better view of the Sunrise, unobstructed by the hills to my east.

          Coyote breakfast call.  Not more than two hundred meters south of my seat, the mother's low moan is met by the anxious yip and excited yap of her hungry brood.  Her pups do not yet appreciate the morning quietude, which comes with age.  Their unchecked barks and snarls make me smile; reminding me of a letter to the editor in the local art-zine, several months back.

To the lady who wrote complaining about the incursion of wildlife and particularly the increased number of coyotes on her property, I want her to think about who is encroaching on whom.  The ever-growing human population is moving farther out into the forest and wilderness.  I’m sorry her dogs were victims.  But, it’s us who are trespassing and she and others should know better than to leave domestic pets unattended.  The coyote is only doing what comes natural and necessary for its survival.

          I wondered if Mom and her hungry ones, quiet now, were having any problems with the taste of Hartz 301 flea and tick spray on their breakfast.

          I enjoy reading reply letters to the editor, especially when I miss the initial letter.  My imagination fills in the missing complaint:

I want to know why the county isn’t doing anything about all the savage animals that are becoming an increasing threat to the safety and security of our homes and families!!  Just last night a rabid pack of coyotes took my two Hungarian pug-nosed Grendlespitz’s right out of my back yard.  I tried to do something but by the time I got my slippers and robe on all I found were empty collars on the end of their leashes.  Duchess and Sophie were members of our family.  I want the county animal control division to do something!  As a property owner, I pay your salary with my taxes and want to be able to know that my pets are safe in my yard.

          Venus pierces the southeastern sky — being brightly dragged westward by the half-waxing moon.  A meteorite zick.   North to South.  Slight burn to red, perceptible before it’s image on my retina is forgotten.

          The eastern sky is slightly lighter now.  As if a light polluting city, like New York or Brussels, was transmorpholated intact, just on the other side of the hill.  Many of the small stars — visible just minutes ago on the eastern horizon — have been tucked away, behind the lighter blue.

          I woke extremely early to see this and certainly don’t regret my decision.  Over the past months I ended my days later and rose — accordingly — progressively later.  At first, I thought doing so was because I read in my retirement manual under 'no longer needed' were regular haircuts, shaves, or alarm clocks.  But, research divulged the following:

Doctors at Duke Medical Center released a report indicating adult humans naturally require 9.25 hours of sleep every 29.1 hours.  The study, which lasted several months, was conducted by placing volunteers in a completely shielded environment and preventing the testees from any external knowledge of time.  After a period of adjustment, independent of each other or any external impetus, participants settled into a routine of ‘nights’ between nine and ten hours, and twenty hour ‘days’.

          Well, that certainly posed more questions than it explained.  Obviously, the human body is not in synch with the earth’s revolution around the sun.  Why could this be?

          The east is much whiter — now — than any city over the hill could cause.  Almost every star above me has been absorbed.  The horizon blue is no longer just cerulean.  Now, aquamarine fades to the yellow of my mother’s bathroom wall which becomes white at the far edge of the hill.  Venus and the moon share the stage alone, with Venus a dim glimmer of it's hour-ago self.

          No more blackbirds. They must have all straggled to work — even those who cut their routine to the minute.

          Four doves bank around my head in tight formation.  A large loop, they glide through another ovoid and return.  The sound of the wind over their wings over my head is sharp and wonderful.  Which is the alpha-dove, I wonder.  After another lap, they settle on a wire below where the sun will eventually make it’s debut in my small valley.

          So my body — which I forced for decades to work an unnatural 16 awake and 8 asleep (which easily became 18+ awake and 6- asleep many...or most days, depending on how truthful I feel) has found it’s natural cycle of 20 awake and 9 asleep.  This explains why a few nights ago I went to sleep at three in the morning and got up at noon.  But it doesn’t explain why man hasn’t settled to the rhythm of the earth-sun revolution in these short hundreds of thousands of years.  It should be obvious.  It isn’t.

          If I went to sleep when the sun set last night and woke when it rose: I would have gotten twelve hours of sleep. If I naturally want to sleep nine and to be awake twenty, why is the day not twenty-nine hours long?  A conundrum.  An enigma.  A puzzle.

In December, American Scientists working in conjunction with the Histore De La Provinciale Sans Guiffon in Den Hage, The Netherlands, have jointly posited that neither Darwin’s evolutionary theory nor the divine origins believed by Christianity fully explain the arrival of Homo Sapiens on Earth.  After decades of research — utilizing the Luxtablinula telemetry radio telescope in Denmark and the Hubble satellite telescope: a small terra-equivalent planet has been observed orbiting around the yellow star TJ761.
This planet — named First Earth — has a twenty hour day and a nine hour night. Theories as to the cause have ranged from a combination of First Earth's avuncular revolution around TJ761; a peanut-shaped planet with an erratic wobble-spin; and a unified land mass.  Research is presently ongoing to identify the existence of life on First Earth.  Professor R. G. Jihk, director of the First Earth research team, provided this brief comment:

“It is my firm belief that man was brought from First Earth to Earth in much the same manner, and possibly for similar reasons, as the British first utilized Australia.  This would have been over one hundred and fourteen thousand years ago.  And once we, the modern day Australians — sticking with that analogy — are advanced enough to blast the modern day Brits back to Stonehenge, as it were, I believe the First Earthians will come back and crush us like the foolish prehistoric detritus we are.”

          The sunbeams are hitting the roof of my house now.  The trees and homes on the west hillside of my valley are bright in reflected orange.  The doves returned with a fifth squad member.  They continue routine circles overhead.  I may have identified their leader.  As they all land back on the same wire, I watch.  If the leader is the one I picked, then she’ll be the first to leave.

          She was the last.  Maybe my theory is upside-back and the leader is the last one to leave, making sure her flock is off to where she sent them like a good military commander: first one in and the last one out.

          The first sun ray — broken between branches and a house on the crest of the hill above — spears me in the eyeball.  I squint.  The air smells perfect.  The warmth on my face is exhilarating. I’ve never done this before — over two hours sitting with myself, paying attention to what nature does every morning and focusing on my inner thoughts.

          I recommend it to all.  Blackbirds, coyotes, meteorites, Venus and the doves also recommend it. The First Earthians don’t, however, they sleep when it’s dark and wake when it’s light and find the concept of watching dark become light an abomination.

          Don’t be a First Earthian.  Be proud.  Wake united — set your alarm two hours earlier and watch tomorrow’s dawn with a smile in your heart.

more animal creative fiction stories:

 wild squirrels: trichotillomania or alopecia or scabies (oh-my) 

pet hamsters and cats: Life-Mission: Possible

Oh me - oh my - oh, oh wanna-manna pee - oh

Learning something new every day about the shrieking baying fools just beyond the outside limits of the glow from my campfire.

My Mormon name is Vernal Independence St. Benjamin!
What's yours?

entranced exit

All the world's a stage and all of us merely players. We have exciting entrances and entranced exits, and each of us--in our time--play many parts. -- Snapperhead misquoting Shakespeare

digital rendering by veach st. glines, creative commons license 2005

April Foolz

My April Fools joke took a month to set up and now expose...because blog April fools jokes don't have any 'knock-knock' timing.

*Drum roll*

*Flapping of cloth as curtains part*

Scroll down. To: 2 March. The post title is: Sky Photo.

*throat clearing*

I don't have a digital camera.

Instead, it was created in Corel Photoshop using several layers of shaded blue all ending diagonally in the center, at the Phoenix cloud.

This wasn't supposed to be an AFJ on just Carmi. Originally, I thought others might take the bait.

NOW, all you all can chime in with how you allwayz knew it weren't a real sky shot and shhiiiit.

*bowing*

*curtain falls*