Online Activist Group Anonymous
A story from BBC News 10 days ago, which somehow escaped my attention until now, described an online activist group called Anonymous. It is to laugh. British hoodlums, as they are known to people more familiar with the "organization," have really been outdoing Americans with their "activism" (Note- soccer fans do not sock any hers). Realizing huge numbers of people don't get news from the Internet, they have taken to putting up posters to draw attention to the Wikileaks story. The BBC does everything but name the site where Anonymous takes those ideas to get mass support. In the midst of being totally screwed up, yotsuba scripters do bring a certain je na sais quoi to the table. That's as much as needs be said. Boing Boing, also.
Merry Christmas
Blessings and good will to everyone out there during the holiday season. May the heavens shine down on you with warmth and grace. Merry Christmas, world. And to myself, from me, next year: Just because you've witnessed the empty turn of the language means you should twice as much enjoy the holiday, even without anyone around. And don't get thrown in a hospital to avoid arrest for enjoying it too much...
Clark Ashton Smith
Somehow in the course of my obsession with macabre, esoteric, fantasy and science fiction writing I missed out on reading Clark Ashton Smith until very recently. Smith gained fame through publication in Weird Tales, just as did his contemporaries H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard and other great authors. Unlike the other two most famous authors from the pulp magazine, however, Smith has remained undersung and underappreciated by mainstream fantasy enthusiasts.
I just finished Zothique, a collection of stories set in Earth's distant future where the only continent bears that name. It blew me away. Smith had a phenomenal grasp on phantasmagoria and dark, occult themes. Never since reading Lovecraft as a teenager have I been so impressed with an author in that genre. The collection comes highly recommended to anyone who has a fondness for Gothic and horror literature. You won't be disappointed, except by the fact that Smith stopped writing long before his death and could have given the world so much more to read.
I just finished Zothique, a collection of stories set in Earth's distant future where the only continent bears that name. It blew me away. Smith had a phenomenal grasp on phantasmagoria and dark, occult themes. Never since reading Lovecraft as a teenager have I been so impressed with an author in that genre. The collection comes highly recommended to anyone who has a fondness for Gothic and horror literature. You won't be disappointed, except by the fact that Smith stopped writing long before his death and could have given the world so much more to read.
Two Hunts (become many)
The Deer: One frozen morning I held fire on a 16-20 point buck, frozen and young. Later that morning I killed a smaller one that outweighed me 2.3 to 1. The distance stepped off to the evidence of point of impact, triangulated and visual: 265 yards. It was inspected by a Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries Officer. I gutted, skinned and cleaned it under the tutelage of my father. I emptied a 30-06 in a ravine on Tunica Tribal Land in the small mountainous uplift skirting the southern part of Angola Prison: Another beautiful buck. God knows I wish I had been able to gauge the trajectory better (still only 12). It wasn't as big as the one killed near Lottie.
The Snakes: 3.5 foot long black diamond back in the brambles of the Felicianas. It lived in an outside freezer. Shot at point blank range with J. H.'s gun for that family (glad to be of service in that matter). 4 foot long viper in tree limbs of Old River Road Swamp, and a dozen rattle snakes on the ground, less than a mile from the Louisiana State University campus.
The Snakes: 3.5 foot long black diamond back in the brambles of the Felicianas. It lived in an outside freezer. Shot at point blank range with J. H.'s gun for that family (glad to be of service in that matter). 4 foot long viper in tree limbs of Old River Road Swamp, and a dozen rattle snakes on the ground, less than a mile from the Louisiana State University campus.
Night Life
Downtown Baton Rouge's 3rd Street has exploded into life, rivaling Austin's 6th Street as a prime night spot. Last night thousands of people converged on the dense collection of bars for an epic throwdown. The streets and parking lots were full of cars and people, not to mention the crowds inside the clubs. The change in the area from a decade ago is mind blowing. Downtown Baton Rouge is back, bigger and better than it ever was before.
The current fashion trend of painted on crotch high mini skirts absoluteley dominated the evening. This is the best thing to happen to fashion since the invention of fabric -- less fabric, more sexiness. It was truly a wonderful thing to behold. There may have been some dudes there too, but they certainly didn't make much of an impression.
The weather was perfect for a night out. Balmy light breezes in the mid to lower 60's made walking around pleasurable in the extreme. The businesses definitely made a fortune in alcohol sales last night, but for some of us it seemed like it would be more fun just to watch the people coming, going and standing still. And people said downtown would never catch on again...
The current fashion trend of painted on crotch high mini skirts absoluteley dominated the evening. This is the best thing to happen to fashion since the invention of fabric -- less fabric, more sexiness. It was truly a wonderful thing to behold. There may have been some dudes there too, but they certainly didn't make much of an impression.
The weather was perfect for a night out. Balmy light breezes in the mid to lower 60's made walking around pleasurable in the extreme. The businesses definitely made a fortune in alcohol sales last night, but for some of us it seemed like it would be more fun just to watch the people coming, going and standing still. And people said downtown would never catch on again...
The Louisiana Melting Pot
A post I removed, just a short while ago, The Louisiana Melting Pot, was about a language exchange on the street. It was merely for entertainment. Nobody was the butt of any joke, but I did make up one concrete thing.
I walked into a convenience store where a cashier was speaking Arabic, or so it sounded. "Konichiwa" ended our conversation of what Japanese was available, instead of beginning the exchange. A Jamaican coin was passed, because of the language and intent, none of which was to defraud, and the bill was paid in full, in American dollars. Outside I shouted "Boom." I traveled many more blocks, four of the long ones in our city. I met a Spanish speaker on the street and attempted to get the Spanish word for gun. I bandied about in Castellano: mano (hand) fuego (gun) Co moe say dee say in Esp an yole? (Como se dice en Español - how do you say in Spanish). He appeared slightly hesitant in providing the term (the Spanish word is the word). I asked him just to liven the morning. I walked to a dollar store. An African American man inside said arm to a young female girl. I said to him, "Utras bole - Spanish for forearm." That was the incorrect term for forearm I got from the Spanish speaking man down the street. I just wanted them to look the term up. I gave the little girl 70 cents, two quarters and two dimes, my last silver change in the world. On the way to the University I passed two Asian looking men, one who seemed very Japanese and one who was from further west in Asia. I postulated about their origin. Their are many Hindus, Koreans and Japanese near the campus. I failed to say anything to them (I should have said something in French, since I studied it so long. It's just very difficult to remain practiced in any foreign languages without constant interaction with everyday native speakers). White Anglo Saxon Protestants have been said to have long called my ancestors, Irish men and women, niggers. I'm part Caribeño, Caribbean Island Indian, so I'm even less white than other Irish men. I use my language to try to bend the lines of stereotype and provoke thought, to educate, in what way I can. I used the term perfidious to refer to what I did, and that was incorrect. What I did was not treacherous, and is a good reason for removing the material as it existed. I have recreated the written work with the first person completely intact, which I have learned from inference can be considered very poor form in a writer. It implies ego, and this is something I have lacked my entire life. i have never been overly proud of myself, and go to great lengths to avoid being perceived as someone overly full of pride. This is done.
I walked into a convenience store where a cashier was speaking Arabic, or so it sounded. "Konichiwa" ended our conversation of what Japanese was available, instead of beginning the exchange. A Jamaican coin was passed, because of the language and intent, none of which was to defraud, and the bill was paid in full, in American dollars. Outside I shouted "Boom." I traveled many more blocks, four of the long ones in our city. I met a Spanish speaker on the street and attempted to get the Spanish word for gun. I bandied about in Castellano: mano (hand) fuego (gun) Co moe say dee say in Esp an yole? (Como se dice en Español - how do you say in Spanish). He appeared slightly hesitant in providing the term (the Spanish word is the word). I asked him just to liven the morning. I walked to a dollar store. An African American man inside said arm to a young female girl. I said to him, "Utras bole - Spanish for forearm." That was the incorrect term for forearm I got from the Spanish speaking man down the street. I just wanted them to look the term up. I gave the little girl 70 cents, two quarters and two dimes, my last silver change in the world. On the way to the University I passed two Asian looking men, one who seemed very Japanese and one who was from further west in Asia. I postulated about their origin. Their are many Hindus, Koreans and Japanese near the campus. I failed to say anything to them (I should have said something in French, since I studied it so long. It's just very difficult to remain practiced in any foreign languages without constant interaction with everyday native speakers). White Anglo Saxon Protestants have been said to have long called my ancestors, Irish men and women, niggers. I'm part Caribeño, Caribbean Island Indian, so I'm even less white than other Irish men. I use my language to try to bend the lines of stereotype and provoke thought, to educate, in what way I can. I used the term perfidious to refer to what I did, and that was incorrect. What I did was not treacherous, and is a good reason for removing the material as it existed. I have recreated the written work with the first person completely intact, which I have learned from inference can be considered very poor form in a writer. It implies ego, and this is something I have lacked my entire life. i have never been overly proud of myself, and go to great lengths to avoid being perceived as someone overly full of pride. This is done.
Blupe
My first music review! My first music review! "No money to be made in any of the arts by someone who refused to perform any of it live in public... brass and woodwind achievements remarkable, and easily proven, but only rarely witnessed..." Doom to the critics! Doom to the critics, I say. I my as well trade in my bassoon and oboe for a kazoo, or practice hand calls for all the good practice has done me. I am in a foul mood now. A foul mood indeed... [trailed off at first expletive]
Deja Vú Sauce
1 cup of half and half
2 tsp. gelled refrigerated beef base
1/3 pound crawfish tail meat
1/2 julienned red bellpepper wilted in peanut oil
1 tbsp. cream cheese
cook for five minutes over medium heat, stirring regularly, then add cream cheese and simmer until it melts, stirring constantly
no garlic or onion for dates, pinch of garlic for married couples
2 tsp. gelled refrigerated beef base
1/3 pound crawfish tail meat
1/2 julienned red bellpepper wilted in peanut oil
1 tbsp. cream cheese
cook for five minutes over medium heat, stirring regularly, then add cream cheese and simmer until it melts, stirring constantly
no garlic or onion for dates, pinch of garlic for married couples
Snow, 1985
"I want to fly like a beagle, to the weed. Fly like a beagle, let the incense carry me. Price keeps on crashing, crashing, crashing... into the future. Price keeps on crashing, crashing crashing..." Further. Legal mdma. K2 so confusing, it's white and the yellows just keep coming. Lifting me higher. Took the downbound train only to fail and achieve escape velocity. And you will know all about it. It can't be helped. I can't stop talking, and you know exactly everything I mean.
Sleep.
Never.
Comes.
Rolling down the I-10 corridor. Every overpass becomes a runway to a different reality. The only place to get wet is Lake Ponchartrain, and the bridge is closed for an accident. I close my eyes and wonder how I got so far away from home. I run the roadblock and find out there's nothing wrong out there. Somewhere thee sun is coming up. I jack another tab and chase it with niacin-- it's time to burn.
OLHell -- And none of it was done at my end. Have a nice scapegoat, entirety of drug users who read this (may the awareness burn your mind out) . I don't even drink, and so many people have blamed me for their drugs it gets quite difficult to remain calm. People wonder why music becomes hardcore. I don't.
1987 --
"I got a story to tell, now listen up real well
Pay attention this way to what I got to say
Took it to the street, rap to the people we meet
Now we're rocking out hard to the Suicidal beat
Tried to deny our right, so we're putting up a fight
Just doing our thang, they tried to call it a gang
Saw the way we look, that's all that it took
That's all she wrote, they had their scapegoat
Dressed down, homeboyz, minority -- join the Army"
-- Suicidal Tendencies
Sleep.
Never.
Comes.
Rolling down the I-10 corridor. Every overpass becomes a runway to a different reality. The only place to get wet is Lake Ponchartrain, and the bridge is closed for an accident. I close my eyes and wonder how I got so far away from home. I run the roadblock and find out there's nothing wrong out there. Somewhere thee sun is coming up. I jack another tab and chase it with niacin-- it's time to burn.
OLHell -- And none of it was done at my end. Have a nice scapegoat, entirety of drug users who read this (may the awareness burn your mind out) . I don't even drink, and so many people have blamed me for their drugs it gets quite difficult to remain calm. People wonder why music becomes hardcore. I don't.
1987 --
"I got a story to tell, now listen up real well
Pay attention this way to what I got to say
Took it to the street, rap to the people we meet
Now we're rocking out hard to the Suicidal beat
Tried to deny our right, so we're putting up a fight
Just doing our thang, they tried to call it a gang
Saw the way we look, that's all that it took
That's all she wrote, they had their scapegoat
Dressed down, homeboyz, minority -- join the Army"
-- Suicidal Tendencies
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