A New Year

It's been a while since I last posted here. Nothing significant in this first post of 2009. Just loaded the Blogger app for my G1, so more posts should be forthcoming...

Birthday Rumination

Tomorrow is my birthday and in my typical brooding fashion my thoughts are often of the wistful/melancholy variety. So rather than sharing my own thoughts and depressing you, I thought I'd share a poem and a song to share the mood. *grin*

If you want to be in an appropriately wistful mood listen to the song while you read the poem: 



The Road Not Taken
by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Wherein I create the most irritating English sentence ...

... at least according to Damp Squid: The English Language Laid Bare, by Jeremy Butterfield.

Here it goes:

---

---

At the end of the day¹, McCain's loss could be considered a fairly unique² occurrence, one I personally³ am please with at this moment in time⁴; with all due respect⁵ to Sarah "Bible Spice" Palin, I’ve been quoted as saying "Absolutely⁶, it's a nightmare⁷' when asked about the possibility of a Palin presidency, this shouldn't of⁸ surprised anyone - I've been ranting about this 24/7⁹ - after all Obama earned the presidency, it's not rocket science¹⁰.

---

---

Was I able to pull it off? For me, only time will tell. History will be the judge. I'm only human. What more can I do?

---

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The Top 10 Most Irritating Expressions in the English language

1 - At the end of the day
2 - Fairly unique
3 - I personally
4 - At this moment in time
5 - With all due respect
6 - Absolutely
7 - It's a nightmare
8 - Shouldn't of
9 - 24/7
10 - It's not rocket science

from: Damp Squid: The English Language Laid Bare, by Jeremy Butterfield.

Willow Man

People often joke about their super powers, here's a poem about mine.

Willow Man^*

My weakness is my strength,
my strength my great weakness.

I'm a Willow.
I am weak.

Lesser to the mighty Oak,
I bend at slightest wind.

I'm a Willow.
I am weak.

Winds rise, the Oak resists -
I hug the ground in fear

I'm a Willow.
I can bend.

Wind's pow'r climbs, the Oak snaps.
Its strength shatters it to the core.

I'm a Willow.
I can bend.

Willow while vanquished, lives.
Stoloniferous roots cheat death.

I'm a Willow.
I snap back.

Survival's the best revenge.
Live to tell of mighty fallen Oaks.

I'm a Willow.
I snap back ...

It's who I am, what I do.
Bend not break, live to tell the tale

I'm a Willow.
I am Willow** Man.

---

^*My humblest apologies for the poor quality of verse - once I had muse, alas she's gone...
^** And to be clear, I am not referring to Willow Rosenberg from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Although Alyson Hannigan is quite cute.

Buffy: Do you remember that demon that almost got out the night I died?
Willow: Every nightmare I have that doesn't revolve around academic failure or public nudity is about that thing. In fact, once I dreamt that it attacked me while I was late for a test and naked.

Art To Die For

---

Dave Wallace
aka David Foster Wallace

Feb. 21, 1962 — Sep. 12, 2008
—•—

Perilous Perspicacity

'Infinite Jest'

Pernicious Despair

---

Why is it that we learn about living from the dead? Why must genius die? Beauty fade? Why is it only after loss that we know what we had?

While David Foster Wallace was alive, I admired, (ok let's be honest) I was insanely jealous of his genius. A year younger than myself, I counted him among the lucky ones. After his death and upon learning of his lifelong struggle with depression - my admiration has grown immensely, all envy has faded.

I find his suicide simultaneously tragically senseless and profound. A monstrous loss and a mighty interrobang (‽) forever capping his talent. Joining Hemingway, Plath and Van Gogh in the pantheon of geniuses who also created Art to Die For - giving their lives to creating art which inspires meaning in the lives for the rest of us.

Dave's father is quoted as saying, "... he just couldn’t stand it anymore." It's taken me a while to think of what to say, I'm not able to come up with anything more than:

Thanks Dave, for making the world more bearable for the rest of us, tell the rest of the gang thanks for me too.

An Inconceivable Truth

For the sake of the future of film and music we must keep Suzanne Vega and Kevin Bacon apart! Our entertainment future hangs in the balance.

As many of you know, the 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon has been mathematically proven, scientific evidence that Kevin is nexus of the film universe.

Less well known is that Suzanne Vega is The Mother of the MP3. Apparently, Suzanne's song Tom's Diner was used as the primary test song for the MP3 music compression algorithm.

You see where I'm going here. The very fabric of entertainment space-time could rip apart if these two ever hook up. In order to avert a catastrophe of biblical proportions, all of us, together must act now to keep Suzanne and Kevin apart.

Global Warming may not destroy us for years.


the Large Hadron Collider has been shutdown for repairs lessening the worries of the creation of an all consuming black hole - but at this time, there is nothing keeping Suzanne and Kevin apart.

Believe me, I'm not being an alarmist. We must act now.

Exiling Kevin to the Isle of Elba, until a ship can be readied to send him to Mars, appears to be the most practical plan at this point. For those concerned about his well being, I believe his experience acting in Apollo 13 will help him survive.

Why Kevin and not Suzanne, you ask? Well, Kevin kind of owes me for the 2 hours of my life I wasted watching Death Sentence (I'm not quite so mad at Suzanne for almost making me cry with that damn Luka song) - so yeah, Kevin has to go.

I'm currently trying to contact Al Gore and Michael Moore to enlist their support in this most urgent crisis. Watch here for updates...

Supergirl and the Ninja

Note: this actually happened. I'm not creative enough to make this up...

Austin, TX Friday, Midnight: Supergirl and a ninja walk in to the Magnolia Cafe. For the non-Austinite reader, Magnolia Cafe is a 24 hour breakfast spot. Very casual and can attract quite a cross-section of people. And in Austin a cross section can be very varied - our official city motto is "Keep Austin Weird"

Repeat this actually happened. It is not the set up for a joke

Supergirl and a mini-skirted blond ninja girl walk into the Magnolia cafe with their dates. Apparently looking for sustenance after a costume party.

Warning: Women, do not let your husbands, sons or boyfriends read after this point - I can tell you as a man - that what you are about to read has potentially serious negative effects on men.

Apparently, it is mini-skirted blond ninja girl's birthday. So she is celebrating by having her date feed her queso - Roman orgy style - using a chip to drip the cheese into her mouth.

Hold on - it gets worse (better, hotter, more twisted, I'm still a little confused...)

Not to be outdone, Supergirl scans the room using, to me at least, a previously unknown super power: Super Skanky Sense

Put down anything you may be holding while reading this. Do not eat - you could choke. I'm trying to save people here, not cause a needless death or worse - a nasty stain.

Scanning the room using her super skanky senses - Supergirl spots a waiter carrying a can of whipped cream.

Have I mentioned that Supergirl was stunning - raven black hair, alabaster skin, blue eyes, wearing a cape and a skin tight leotard with a big Super 'S' stretched tightly across her chest?

Supergirl calls the whipped cream can carrying waiter over, winks and says: "Cream me"

Avert your eyes now if you have heart problems, or are male - this could kill you

Supergirl calls the waiter over, simultaneously grabbing the hand of her date and pushing it toward the waiter - repeating "cream me"

The waiter 'does' the hand with the can of whipped cream.

Have I ever told you how thankful I am that I have sons and not daughters.

You probably guessed what super girl does next - and you would be right. Completing the 'job' using only her tongue. Soon the only whipped cream remaining was a dollop she 'accidentally' got onto the tip of her nose.

BTW - I neglected to mention that based on how old their dates looked, the girls must have been 17 or so. Sorry, but I didn't think you would be able to take it earlier.

Ninja girl then licked the remaining whipped cream from Supergirl's nose. The girls giggled.

Their dates, me and every other male in the Magnolia cafe were unable to speak, moved or even blink - maintaining autonomic functions became difficult. I think I may have had a small stroke.

********

Anyway, to the point of this post.

I am doing a limited scientific study on the nature or nurture debate. If you're a woman about my age and your daughter went out last night dressed as Super Girl - please contact me.

First, I'd like to warn your daughter to stay away from my 15 year-old son - at least for another year or two, please he deserves his childhood.

Second, I'd like to get to know you better, I think we could be good friends. Really.

I can be reached care of the Magnolia Cafe. I haven't been able to leave, I'm still waiting to regain my composure and recover from the stroke - my memory got very fuzzy around the time supergirl's tongue darted out and lapped up the whipped cream.

Maybe I will be able to walk tomorrow...

If Shakespeare texted

So I was thinking -- I know, I know, be careful I might hurt myself -- anyway, I was thinking about how text messages have grown to encompass a large percentage of my communication. In particular, I was thinking how the restrictions of text messaging will change what is written in the future.

For example, instead of this:

"to be, or not to be, that is the question:"

would Shakespeare have written, this:

"2B or nt 2B dats d Q"

Dickens:

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"

"twas gud n bad"

The Gettysburg address...

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal"

"87 yrs ago r dads brawt 4th on dis cn10nt, a nu n8tN, conceivd n liBrT, n dedic8d 2 d prop dat ll men r cr8d ="

Moby Dick

"Call me Ishmael"

"sup"

JFK

"And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country. "

"n so my felO USArs ? nt w@ yr cntry cn do 4U - ? wotU cn do 4 ur cntry"

Yoda

"Do, or do not. There is no 'try'."

"Do, or do not. There is no 'try'." (C wat i did thar *smile*)

***************
So I ask you, dear reader - what will become of literature in the age of texting?

Waiters and Laters

You can basically divide the world into two groups of people - those who divide things into two groups and those who don't. While I definitely identify with the latter group being far too disorganized to actually successfully categorize anything, for the sake of this entry we'll assume I'm the former...

Are you a Later or a Waiter?

That is, given the fact that it's impossible to be perfectly on time, are you usually early or late when you meet a friend? I'm thinking about this as I sit here at JP's Java waiting for my Crazy Blind Date to show up - not because she is late mind you - but because I am early.

How am I blogging while waiting for a date? On my iBook of course. I know what you're thinking -- "why does he bring an iBook on a date?" Because I'm definitely a Waiter. I'm early and finished my email -- I need to do something.

I have a terrible sense of direction. Chances are if I target being on time, I will get horribly lost and arrive at a time almost certain to trigger latent abandonment issues in the person I'm to meet.

I've always envied the casual and apparently care-free nature of many Laters. True Laters don't usually just show up - they arrive. It's an event. Laters must also be partially psychic - I've found that even if I know I'm meeting a Later and show up late myself - they show up even later.

I'm sure there is probably an OKCupid test or psychological profile that can explain what drives one to be a Waiter or a Later. However, my date just showed up - so I need to go.

Does anyone have any ideas?

*****
For the record, my date - let's call her Aphrodite - was almost perfectly on time. However, she did introduce me to the most amusing concept of running on Jewish Standard Time (JST- being 15 minutes late for everything).

An Un-common Interest

Sometimes tables in restaurants are much too close together. Tonight for example, I was at dinner and was able to hear the couple seated in a table near me much too clearly. They weren't particularly loud or even annoying, however their words easily carried above of the din.

At first their conversation just served to underscore the fact that I was dateless. Since there was no longer an option of being alone with my thoughts, I figured I might as well listen.

It soon became obvious they were on a first, or at least very early date. Facing each other across the table, each of them in turn were offering potential topics for discussion - searching for a common interest. When I picked up the interchange, he had just tossed out his love for hunting. Specifically, deer hunting. This didn't seem to go over well with her - since her response was to flag the waitress and order another glass of wine.

Once the waitress left, she offered that Minnie Driver just had a baby and has yet to tell anyone the name of the father. He asked what was so important about "this small driver gal." After spending a few apparently frustrating minutes detailing the life of Minnie Driver, she went to the restroom. As she was getting up, I heard him saying "don't like Hollywood-types", while chewing a dinner roll.

So it seemed that a love connection was not in the cards for these two. While she was gone, I realized that I'd not heard either of them say each other's names. I'm not sure if it was a cause or an effect of their inability to find a common interest to discuss. Let's just call them Barbie and Bubba.

Barbie returned with renewed energy, an obviously determined girl she was not going to give up on this date or maybe she was just trying to start a fight. In any case, she asked him, "do you have any hobbies that don't involve balls, video games or killing helpless animals?" Turning to face them, I just had to get a look at Bubba's reaction -- I now know what the last deer he shot looked like right before he blew it's brains out. His eyes were as big as saucers.

Stammering only momentarily, I was proud of him for sitting himself up and replying directly, "True Crime. My favorite are serial killers."

It was probably as much my imagination as anything, but the words "serial killers" just hung there in the room - the din seemed to have vanished momentarily. But several other diners had also turned to look at the couple. I would have had to get up in order to see Barbie's face -- and I almost did.

Barbie exclaimed,"Oh my god!" However, the tone wasn't the one of exasperation I expected, it was of recognition and delight almost. Then she was scooting her chair next to his - the closest they had been to each other all evening. Reaching into her purse, she pulls out an iPod and queues a video for him to watch.

In his desperation, Bubba hit the jackpot. Serial killers were her hobby too!

Now that they were sitting together, I wasn't able to hear their conversation. They continued their meal, now speaking in hushed, almost conspiratorial tones - while sharing views of the iPod.

Shaking my head at the situation, I realized I'd passed judgment on their love connection too quickly. Barbie and Bubba may have a shot. I'm not very good at coming up with morals for stories, this one would seem to have a couple somewhere.

** UPDATE **
From comments:
Moral: without an iPod, your relationship is doomed.