Cerebral Jello: There's always room

Wuss.

spinefire — Wed, 05 May 2010 19:26:14 +0000

I learned something from a heroin addict. He told me that wishing, much like willpower, is self-deception. “Don’t wish you were the sort of person who makes your bed every day,” he said,”just make the bed.” Much the same with decision making, Nike was right, just do it. I’ve been quitting smoking for three weeks or so, and I’ve screwed up multiple times. I wasn’t weak willed, though. I decided that the enjoyable state I remembered that having a cigarette puts me i was more important than my commitment to stop.

That doesn’t make me weak, it makes me unreliable.

Crap. That’s far less excusable. Time to start making the right decisions, as they arise. Of course this comes the day after Happy Star Wars day (for the ungeek among you, May the Fourth Be With You). Yoda had it, there is no try, only do.

Things I’d never see in Pennsylvania

spinefire — Mon, 03 May 2010 05:53:07 +0000

After a very Denny’s noon breakfast and supermarket run G and I went to the beach. Frankly, May 2nd and beach is pretty awesome, but I got to see something even the Discovery Channel would shudder at. Amongst the standard speedos, bikinis and boogie boards, riding the waves just short of the break point were two sea turtles.

Apparently, they were finishing up a date and went to watch the humans, but had no sense of public decency. So for a good twenty minutes I got to watch a flipper waving, shell bumping, “Call me the King of Atlantis” big green reptilian honeymoon.And let me tell you, that whole ‘slow and steady’ thing just went right out the window.

I was speechless. Still am, to a degree.

This Is Not A Game

spinefire — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 07:54:18 +0000

But you wish it was. Or I do. You can’t stuff a couple coins in the slot, or extract more credits from your card.

Walter Jon Williams has extrapolated this out. Read his book, eponymous with the title of my post.

Tea party

spinefire — Mon, 19 Apr 2010 10:30:07 +0000

I’ve been trying to web about this whole “Tea Party” thing, but I gotta know, wtf?

First from Maui

spinefire — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 08:09:02 +0000

I’m finally in Maui. Hopefully I’ll be more faithful because I’ve got more time than I want. Here’s a little.

I was out on the porch (Lanai) tonight, smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer, reading the new William Gibson novel. Spook City. I looked up from the unreal world of cyber-art and paranoid grid dodging, and there, just as there often is, was one of my “little buddies.” The geckos who have adapted to condo life, slowly changing their pigmentation to match the dull eggshell of the walls, much as I feel I am doing. He was just above the porch light, head down, tail extended in relaxed tension behind him, up the wall. Just a little below him and to his right, my left, was a moth, twice the side of his head. He moved one foreleg, with infinite slowness, and set it down scant millimeters from where it was before. Closer to the moth. My little buddy was creeping up on his heart’s desire. Patient beyond my ability to contemplate, he made a single motion, then relaxed again. I watched him for another couple minutes; he could have been sculpture. I looked away for a moment. When I glanced back, he was closer to the moth, maybe. I couldn’t be sure and neither apparently, could the moth. It hadn’t moved. My little buddy might not get the feast, but he understands how to try in a way I wish I could. My beer was empty, so I came inside fore another.

Gold-Titanium Alloy Stiffie

spinefire — Sat, 03 May 2008 14:16:20 +0000

Yes, that’s right. I saw Iron Man on opening night. Yes, Paltrow was cute and sexy at the same time. Downey was the perfect choice for Tony Stark, billionaire playboy industrialist. Bridges actually made Stane a believable character (something he rarely was in the comics). Industrial Light & Magic dazzled the screen, again. But what truly impressed me was how tight the whole thing was. It was not “another comic book film.” That was Ghost Rider. And Ghost Rider was trash. I used to collect both Ghost Rider and Iron Man; they were well written stories with good character. Even as a fan of Nicky Cage (guilty pleasure), GR was steaming shit. Iron Man was a great film. Reviewer Roger Moore nailed it. Just because there was sci-fi, fantastic hero-fights doesn’t mean the film couldn’t say something worthwhile about the current state of foreign and internal affairs. Without even mentioning Eisenhower’s warning or getting whiny and didactic, Iron Man points a very big finger (probably not the index finger) at the very real world where profits are made at the expense of lives, American or otherwise.

This film is something everyone should see. Skip watching the next round of “Election Bowl” and do so.

Back from the Dead

spinefire — Fri, 25 Apr 2008 21:19:00 +0000

That’s right, I am. I haven’t been on here in months because I’ve been both enjoying my life and under the gun at school and work. But the neighbors forgot to encrypt their wireless, so I can grab a little bandwidth while I play glorified cashier. I just thought I’d share the odd things that’s going on just outside my booth.

There’s a big white van with blackout windows. There’s two big dudes with tattoos, silver stars, pistols and purple shirts that say “US PRISONERS TRANSPORT.” And there’s a leg iron wearing parade of seven unhappy folks going into the restroom, one at a time, under close supervision by the aforementioned dudes. And I caught a glimpse inside that van; it was little steel cubicles with big nasty locks. I asked the one big dude how far they had to drive. “Back to Florida.”

Just made me pause and appreciate the control I do have over my own self.

Liquid Courage

spinefire — Sun, 24 Feb 2008 23:11:09 +0000

Preface: whiny, confessional blogs irritate me. If you don’t have a friend to listen to your self-pity, don’t assume I want to read about it. That said, I think everyone’s allowed a freebie or three, as long as they don’t make a habit of it.

I got a little inebriated last night. When we switched from Lion’s Head to Old Rasputin, that unkillable sorcerer got into my blood and what was going to be the usual drunken text ludicrousness became a wee bit more. In one of those random toggles that the choosing capacity does, I sent it to her instead of them, and it became something of a conversation. Considering that the most direct communication we’ve had for about 3 months is venomous glares across public spaces, this was kind of momentous.

the question is, of course, whether this was a good or bad sort of momentous. I never explained myself, and she never asked, last time. Any friend of mine you asked would say (and rightly so) that my mental health would be better served if I had just decided to turn my phone off and remain out of that contact loop. But like a kid with one unburnt hand or a street racer with two points left to go on his license I just can’t seem to trust logic when it gets into competition with how I might or mightn’t feel.

There that wasn’t so bad, was it?

Rice Krispies

spinefire — Sun, 24 Feb 2008 00:55:49 +0000

That’s my body. I’m only 33, yet I keep on snap, crackle, popping. Just yesterday afternoon, my right knee KaPowed loud enough as I stood up from the toilet that my roomate heard it. He was in the next room, we’re not that close. My wrists hurt when I sneeze, and I can crack my upmost 9 vertebrae at least once per day. Funny thing is, I don’t feel old, just worn out. I thank high school sports for some of it, but I believe the fact that my job has me stand on tile for around 7 hours every day is more to blame. Used to be, I had the option of a backrub every now and again to help that out, but not now. To quote my ex-wife — “They should sell Vicodin in vending machines.”

Joe’s Eulogy

spinefire — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 19:57:59 +0000

My dad’s dog died three days ago. 350 miles away, and I cried for my dad when I got the email. Every time I went home, it was the Dad & Joe Show. They went everywhere together. Dad even built a padded, customized shelf in the king cab of his truck so Joe had his own seat, human passenger or not. I remember so many awesome things with Joe.

I remember trying to describe him to people who hadn’t met him. “Like Falcor, from Neverending Story.”

I remember the funny trail he’d leave in snow that was any deeper than 4 inches, like a long fat line with little dots running along the sides.

I remember that the only thing an intruder would have to fear from Joe was tripping over him.

I remember how he’d squeeze up against anybody who’d lie down on the floor next to him.

I remember how he’d simply fall over on his back if you petted him, effectively yelling “BELLYTIME!”

I remember how he never lost that puppy joy of chasing squirrels, even though he was full grown when he joined the family.

I remember how humongous his head was for such a short legged dog.

I remember how he’d get underfoot as bad as a cat, especially in the kitchen. Because that’s where the people were and even though he was a dog, he was people.

I remember how he’d stare down the rottweiler next door, even though he had to stare up to do it.

I remember how, when you looked into his eyes, you’d swear he knew how you felt.

Most of all, I remember how good a friend he was to my Dad.

I miss you too, Joe-boy.