They couldn't even get the spelling right. Its Googol.

Today was a medium charbroiled day. The on the back of my left heel it feels like a bandage is stuck there, only there is no bandage, none I can see or peel off. None I put there.

Still I feel it.

Underneath my left eyelid there is a singularity. I can stare into it when my eyes are closed and barely make out some things. They are just on the verge of being recognized, sort of like the garbled concepts you get in a dream, although in this case it's no dream.

Last Thursday when I was waking up, I stared into it too hard and almost couldn't wake up. I got out of bed and tried singing in the shower, but kept sinking into the singularity. Finally, after I put my contacts in, I was ok.

Now I don't look into it directly. Things stay a little vague in there.

On Monday the stock market will do one of its make up your mind jigjag things and go up and stay up all day. At least thats what it looked like in the singularity.

Poem of the momentum - Impromptu

Impromptu

Her mouth wouldn’t listen to his,
And so
He kissed her hair.

Stepped back,
Appalled,
She turned her eyes away
But not repulsed.

Her red burning face
Took the beat of her blood
And drained her heart.

He held her
She held back

Then he let go
And so did she

The gold, burning night, died the fire low, as morning whispered silently its light.

Jung and consciousness

Do we have a collective memory? I summoned up one of my favorite nonsense words, 'snitter' and this is what the search engines gave me. Evidently this is a snitter harvester.









I came up with another word, 'tring' , and it turns out that Tring is a town. I don't think I've ever been there, but did I see it on a map somewhere?

Can a madman make a difference?

How did our present society in the United States (technologically advanced, relatively rich, relatively secure)get to where it is? Did it just appear by magic? Are there certain pre-requisites that had to be undertaken before it reached this point?

I think these questions have been overlooked for a long time now. They are important ones to answer if we are to see our society postpone collapse that all societies eventually face.

If the question of causes is approached head on, much debate would be generated that could possibly be verified scientifically. It might serve as a normative framework for research that would ultimately be of benefit to humankind.

Someone other than a madman should take this project on and bring it to public awareness, before we destroy ourselves.

That is, if all of you actually exist.

Poem of the minute: Perfume

Perfume

Twirling maybe
Lights dimmed past visionary state

Sparks,
My rough hand extended
pulls you close and frightens me

Entwined in your attention
My breathing stops in time
With a pounding that makes my monkey blood
Thirsty for your laughing eyes.

My hand encircles your small wrist
I can’t remove it though you
Pull and turn and dance,

My arm up and down in time with your circled steps
The rest of me frozen afraid to turn
for a dream once vanished never will return.

Stay in my present always
Mystify my cares
Perfume my long lost fear with flight.


- Athens, 2003 erik_satie_rollerblading

Jose Luis Borges

You'd best be getting to know Borges. He is one of the best cataloguers of madness of the last century. Although he specialized in other fields than solipsism, I owe him a lot. His use of formalism to create fictions and other worlds was careful and well thought out.

The historical flavor of his work is invented, but genuine. The mystery and intrique of his life are reminiscent of Satie and Castaneda.

This next generation hasn't had a chance to inherit much of the richness of history, because the boomers pretty much internalized it for themselves. They will have to start from scratch. Borges is a good place to start.

His most famous story is the Aleph, but there are many many others to choose from. The Library of Babel is an excellent study in formalism, and Funes, the Memorius is very good.

Borges also wrote many stories about the Argentine Gauchos of the Nineteenth Century, to me bearing something similar to the subjects of Ernest Hemingway, if not the form.

There is a world of madness and un-uniformity in existence today, even the scientists are starting to explore it, sort of a continental abyss, like an unseen underwater cliff with an immense ocean of the unknown hidden below.

Phrases that stand out

The lost episodes of clever rational people will never be the same.

Dear creampuff, please arrive with your couch yesterday in the air.

I scraped the piano off my windshield and cleared the game.

Overt flower paths.

Drained word roulette.

Ordinary. Soliloquy.

I am the entertainer

Billy Joel, Entertainer Jim Cramer, Entertainer

I've seen both these guys in action, and they are the same guy. No one is fooling me this time.
He is really good in both venues, has a great voice and a really good knack for making investment understandable.

Who has been here?

I don't know what is going on. It shows here the last post was in January and it is here and now October. I didn't write the last post.

Whoever is messing with this blog, please stop it ! Some days it is the only record I have of what has happened the day before.

*******

Frank Black

Its Nineteen Ninety Four, and the Pixies are no more.

2006 is is the Twelfth Anniversary of this explempary album by the Bad Boy of the Nineties. There isn't much that has come along since to top it, so I thought I would tell you greenies what it is all about.

Its about the sound, the wild, free beat, and the phenomenal ripping through the twenty two songs, one after another that are ALL FANTASTIC.

This has absolutely nothing to do with the death of Crocodile Hunter Steve Erwin yesterday. And in another way, it parallels in an insane stringtastic way.

Websen

Theres something about websen

http://www.chaoskitty.com/webzen/archive.php?choice=74.01.08

Today's reason to go insane

It comes as a spotlight of insight. An emotional impact that burns between the eyes. And then, it is gone again.

Today it is the realization of why there is so much trash on TV, on the web, the radio, and all the other media:

Our civilization is facing a content crisis. There is so much media available, that it can't be filled up in real time. Hence the re-runs, the infomercials, the reality series, and the 24 hour shopping channel.

We are desperate for something new to watch and listen to, and the poor entertainers can't keep up. Oh, and did I mention that we're not willing to pay them for this service? This is why I'm sitting here at 11:00 pm watching Jerry Stiller's son and a grown up copy of Marcia Brady driving a car at night in between the ads for a new oldies cd. The movie is I think a remake of yet another old tv show called I Spy.

Thinking about what it takes just to type this stupid paragraph and then looking at the content on TV for example, makes me realize that there just isnt enough free talent to go around out there. I mean there is so much programming time to fill that it makes me go crazy just thinking about it. You can almost feel sorry for the actors and producers, because they cant make enough of this crap to fill up the airwaves and they are being pressured to produce it even faster, and oh, did we mention cheaper?

Is this latest attack of loathing and tremors a case of entertainment brownout?

Capacitors - poem of the month or so

Capacitors don’t think about what they do
So why should you?

Resistors never had sisters, never had to face a firing squad and die
So why should I?

And if I offer you a snake when you ask for bread,
Will you cut off my head?

I try and try to make my sneer as evil as possible.
But it is a faded evil, out of phase with the current trends.

Tomorrow I will have written about my anxiety attack.
For now, I just drip sweat into the sweet carpet.

Sudoku, a fad in action

What you do is just fill in the grid so that every column, row, and 3X3 square contains the numbers 1 through nine.
That being said, we can now explain that this puzzle, called Sudoku, has been around for a long time, but since its been popular in Japan, now its time has come here. It's showing up everywhere, in local newspapers, on the sidewalks, and it's a bonafide hit.

I started doing these during the hurricane in September last year, and have probably put in 200 hours of my life filling in these little squares. It was a great way to get my mind off of the devastation in my city, but maybe its time to move on.

If only I could lose a tournament somewhere.

Here are some of these puzzles to get you started.

A poem a day: Arrogant Bees

Arrogant Bees

Stinging my eyes and you laugh,
A sunset mourning for today’s flowers,

Tears caress, carelessly crying
Drowned, out by your cackling. Don’t stop
Remembering me. Render my fat, as you would make soap,
The kind that stings
Your eyes in the shower.

Hurricanes, Crisis, and Groupthink: An analysis

Here I am in Louisiana on the eve of Hurricane Rita's landfall somewhere between here and Texas. I was also here for Hurricane Katrina's landfall somewhere between Louisiana and Florida. You might say that I've an affinity for hurricanes. Rita in particular is showing humanity in some fascinating colors.

100 miles of cars backed up between Galveston and Dallas, Texas. Helpful comment by Weather Channel announcer: Maybe they could get some buses in there to help get people off the highway. Question: How would you get the buses in and out, with helicopters?

The bus concept is an example of groupthink: the problem with Katrina devastating New Orleans was not enough buses to cart those poor unfortunate people out of the city. So: in any hurricane, you need lots of buses to help those in crisis. WRONG!

Groupthink is often, but not always wrong. The media is particularly subject to groupthink, because so many announcers are of average intelligence. They think like the next person, which is to say, superficially.

Another example: We've learned from Hurricane Katrina exactly how serious a hurricane can be and there are steps to take which will make everything orderly. WRONG!

Hurricanes are unpredictable. With Katrina and now Rita, as with so many hurricanes, you have no idea exactly where it will end up, ESPECIALLY when you need to be making decisions. As a result, people are going to follow groupthink: they will evacuate when they see EVERYONE ELSE evacuating, and NOT BEFORE. We drove over to Baton Rouge from the west early in the morning on Thursday. It was sunny and a regular day, except for a few Texans in a hurry. By the afternoon, the interstate was at a standstill, as we watched from a Baton Rouge apartment.

How do you escape groupthink? If only doing the opposite would work, but that won't work. The only possible way out of groupthink is to gather data diligently and then make very conservative choices. Look beyond the emotional sources of news like the network and weather channels. After all, they are entertainers, not newscasters. They are selling cars and trucks and exercise equipment. Sad but increasingly true. The internet, if used in a very broad sweep, can yield useful information. Constantly separate fact from opinion, rumor from reality, and ALWAYS be on the lookout for individuals with insights and other individuals who are stupidly transmitting false information.

For example, boingboing.net sends us the blog of Kathryn Cramer, who notes that the intensity of Rita seems to be changing in correlation to the depth of the basin of the Gulf of Mexico. This very interesting observation bears notice, however it is most likely that 1) it will be noticed by the media who will turn it into a pseudo-theory or 2) it will go completely ignored. What almost certainly WON'T happen is 3) it will be noticed by weather scientists and tested as a possible factor (among many) in determining the behavior of tropical storms and hurricanes.

Groupthink will continue to blind humankind to real observation, resulting in more emotional turf-war confrontations and yammering. Meanwhile my friends in New Orleans are hours of the same loop footage of their homes being re-flooded while the rest of us yearn for real information to come across our television sets.

Pretending the world outside exists

The physical nature of a book is such that it can become a power object for a Castanedan. But more often it is the obsession possession of a fool.

The physical nature of reality is misleading; human creatures are not creatures of reality, but of being. What is the difference?

Imagine a pain in the ball of your foot. You are certain it has a real, physical cause, because you feel physical pain.

But, you have it MRI'd and find out there is no cause in the foot. Now, you could argue that there is a damaged nerve ending or a busted synapse somewhere in between the foot and your brain, or even that the chemicals in the brain itself are out of balance. But you feel it in your foot! That alone is enough to demonstrate the mistake of your perception.

If we can become mistaken about something as basic and personal as a feeling of pain, what of things we see? It is the old philosophical problem of induction. We assume the sun is up when the alarm goes off, because it was up yesterday when the alarm went off. Better check.

Maggots, Murder, and Men : Book Review

Every once in awhile I come across a book that introduces old topics in a completely new way. We all know about bugs, and we all have seen murder mysteries. Combine the two, mix in a strong dash of British ambience, and you get something completely novel and different:

Maggots, Murderm and Men(2002) is a non-fiction book written by a British Forensic Entymologist, Dr. Zakaria Erzincllioglu(!) Dr. Zak comes across as a combination of Nero Wolfe, Sherlock Holmes, and the Orkin Man.

The writing is wonderfully English in tone, and the content consists of countless stories and anecdotes about the author's experience in using insect knowledge to help solve murders and other crimes.

Grossout warning: You need a strong stomach to read this stuff. Dr. Zak cheerfully discusses the laying of flies eggs on rotting human flesh and the resulting growth of maggots and bluebottle flies. However, the book manages to be engaging and a refreshing alternative to the plethora of murder novels that seem to be so popular now.

Orchids and Baseball

Excerpt from The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean:

"Do you know where these neoregelias[Bromeliad Specie] came from? ... One day he found a little mysterious seedling on an orchid he'd gotten. He stuck the seedling in a hollowed-out coconut shell and grew it up, and it was this good-looking bromeliad. He set up his own little nursery and sold nothing but pups from that bromeliad. He must have made fifty thousand dollars on it. He lived off that one plant for years. "

The Orchid Thief is a non-fiction book about the Orchid and tropical plant industry in south Florida. As such it is a record of the investigations of writer Susan Orlean. But it is actually a collection of stories, which have taken on the character of local myths.

There is a line between reality and non-reality, and part of that line is myth and story. Stories sit on the interface between now and the past and future, with our senses and intuition as individual gatekeepers of what is real and what isn't.

I think it is interesting to explore not only the stories themselves but also the circumstances in which they arise and the manner in which they are introduced to the unwary public.

Stories are out of favor right now, and it is just because of this that they hold such power. They come in under the guise of real information, which reporters are just now beginning to understand. I think it is because of this that most of us are so much more interested in outright fantasy, such as Star Wars and Batman; it is presented as not real, and therefore is sterile and safe. One author/screenwriter who remains popular in exception to this is Michael Crichton, who manages to add a shadow of reality to his techno-thrillers through research and endnotes.

It seems the one area of reality that we have left is that of sports, but even that category is crumbling in the face of creeping commercialism which has begun to cast doubt on the integrity of some events. You can watch or replay in your head the plot from 'Field of Dreams' and understand it in the same light as some of these other examples. The whole historical premise on which 'Dreams' is based is the half-truth that Shoeless Joe Jackson and other players threw a baseball game for money. This half truth is then built upon with real people, such as J.D. Salinger (who became Terrence Mann in the movie). A whole new story, with its own myth and atmosphere, is built into an enormous edifice of poetry that transcends the controversial event upon which it is based.

If you look closely in our millennial (or is it millenial?) world, you will find many such unrealities masquerading as fact. More on this in a later (or is it earlier?) post.

Oxytocin and Trust, Fact and Fiction

New research shows a strong correlation between the presence of the hormone Oxytocin and the trust and love that mammals have for one another. The hormone is often present during lactation and reproduction. Scientists have developed a spray that can be used as a deoderant that is being marketed as an alternative to Aluminum Chlorhydrate, which has been linked to breast cancer.

Parts of the above statement are true. I've cleverly mixed truth with fiction to create a plausible article which I hope will become a rumor. More on rumors and viruses in another post.

The Sagan Effect

After reading some of the latest science news, I'm beginning to see a strong trend that seems to be going under the radar of our stellar news industry. It seems like every other scientist is after evidence that life could (not necessarily does) exist on other worlds. In my effort to classify everything under according to it's conspiracy category, I hereby name this phenomena the Sagan Effect. You heard it here first.

Thus, here we have bacteria that can perform photosynthesis where no sunlight exists, under the ocean. Same said bacteria and many other organisms can exist near geologic steam vents at temperatures in excess of 300 degrees Celsius, which is to say, they might exist on worlds with conditions not normally conducive to life.

Does the scientific world know something it isn't telling, or are they just working subconsciously under the idea that finding other life in the universe is inevitable?

Variety and prediction

"It pays a prophet not to be too specific" --- Robert A. Heinlein

One of the great things about being eccentric is that you see everything from the obtuse angle. One of the things that people respond to is quality, another is sincerity, but the media and entertainment industry seem to be stuck on experimenting with the continuum of indecency, between 'risque' and 'crude'. If quality or sincerity get woven in, its usually an accident. This is killing the sitcom industry, where all the writers, it seems, understood 'Seinfeld' in terms of its crudity, when the real reason people tuned into it was the quality of the humor and the excellent comic acting and timing.

During Seinfelds run, I remarked to a friend how much it reminded me of the old 'Dick Van Dyke' show in its pacing and combination of slapstick with one-liners. And of course, Seinfeld was noted for its respectful and wonderful use of the older school of comedians and actors in its supporting cast and guest stars.

The next big idea for television waiting in the wings is a true revival of the forum called the Variety Show. This genre in its classic form is gone. Most of its good examples are extremely dated, such as Sid Caesar's Show of Shows and The Carol Burnett Show. How simple it would be for a new Jerry Seinfeld type to pick it up, dust it off, and create some wonderful new and up to date television.

Of course, it would also be simple to mess it up by lacing it with jokes about masturbation, tits and ass, and who is screwing who. Get real, Burbank: us little folks out east are tired of that swill, its old stuff.

Look for someone with talent to pick up the Variety Show and run with it.

Good Director of the Week

You've heard a lot about Batman Begins, some of it isn't even hype.

Christopher Nolan is the director of what critics are calling 'one of the best comic book movies ever'.




This is his last incredible movie, Memento, a 'film noir' that was not as big a release as Batman Begins, but one that may be superior to it. In Memento, the central figure doesn't have any long term memory. As a result, he goes through life from moment to moment, attempting to find his way with handwritten notes and tattooed messages.

In 'Batman', Nolan brings us a very well-directed 'Origin of' movie, with excellent casting and enough special effects to make the action fans happy. But what makes this movie stand out from the others in the series is its look at Bruce Wayne and his motivations for becoming the Dark Knight.

Ironically, for all it transcends the genre, in the end this is still a movie about Batman saving a corrupt and seedy Gotham City. But it shows you how even a comic book hero can be interesting in the hands of a great director. I predict that Christopher Nolan will be eventually recognized as one of THE great dramatic directors of his generation.

Bad Movie of the Week

A scene from Identity




'Identity' , which I saw on HBO this weekend, easily wins the Stephen King award for bad movie of the week.

Just to give you a flavor of what you missed, Amanda Peet plays an imaginary character named Paris who is hiding a stash of cash so that she can buy a field in Florida and grow oranges, her lifelong dream. Oh, and she is also an imaginary hooker, and as usual, the only reason for watching this movie from beginning to end.

The reason this film rates bad movie of the week is because it shamelessly bases its whole plot on the psychological illness of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), already panned by Charlie Kaufmann in 'Adaptation' and painfully misused by Stephen King and Johnny Depp in 'the Secret Window'.

In this movie, a sick killer is wheeled into what amounts to a midnight meeting of his psychologist and the parole board and Governor so they can witness him living through his painful murdering of all but one of his ELEVEN personalities.

In his ninety minute flashback, he becomes victim, killer, and pursuer of the killer, as we are clumsily and melodramatically taken in detail through every violent imaginary murder. However, we mustn't forget that he really DID kill all of these folks at an isolated motel out west. After all, that's what makes the whole movie so 'compelling'.

Imaginary or not, let's hear it for the actress' HEAD bumping around in the dryer in the motel laundromat. Then there is John Cusack, the actress' chauffeur, sewing up the severed artery of another woman who he just happened to run over on the dark and stormy night ('I wish we had beige thread. It would have looked so much better') . But did I mention that Ray Liotta was escorting a serial killer to prison on the same evening? Let's not forget the young just-married couple who are not pregnant, or the dysfunctional trio of Mom, Stepdad, and young Timmy(Or is it Tommy?), who lost his father and his voice in some other poorly constructed movie plot.

Who am I leaving out? Oh yes, the motel manager, a Hitchcockian misfit who just 'took over' when the real manager dropped dead in his soup years ago. I don't think we can count the real manager as a character, because he is dead in the walk in freezer for most of the movie. Since when does a deserted motel have a walk-in freezer?

Oh, but I forgot, the whole sordid plot is the fabrication of the sick mind of a killer, so all inconsistencies are not only forgiven, they add to the logic of the plot: the killer is not only a psycho, he is an incompetent screenwriter. And after all, how else can you get the victims out in the rain except by having them try to find a good cellular phone connection?

Of course, we are not supposed to know that the killer-victims-pursuers are all the same person. After all, that is a secret, only revealed until the middle of the movie. ('Wait, while we're being murdered, what do we have in common? We all have the same birthday. We all are named after places. Professor, what does it mean?') What genius.

If you want to enjoy dissociative personality disorder(DID) as I/We do, read Jose Luis Borges' works, or at least check out 'Adaptation', one of the best movies of all time. 'DID' , as it is affectionately acronymed by professionals, is just one of the multiple ways to slip between the linearity of Ordinary Time. Its a shame that it is misused in Hollywood, at a waste of so many serious actors.

Untitled

Untitled

This white page is so much cheesier than my mouse.
No balls, just lasered,
Sterile and cold. Blowing high
With the suffering clouds.

You have no idea
As I talk and the words fall
Like icicles
Before they can reach you.
Its me. Its me. You

You would rather hear about Hera, wouldn’t you?

Claws, red
With acetone blood,
Like the soft hole of her mouth

Wet red.

Again and again I could circle her painted eyes,
Hoping for an arrow to dart my way.

My life, my time, my young man days
Are dashed upon her stone hard beauty.
Sculpted in softness
Flowing rock, lava flow
Blazing.

Arrogant Bees

Arrogant Bees

Stinging my eyes and you laugh,
A sunset mourning for today’s flowers,

Tears caress, carelessly crying
Drowned, out by your cackling. Don’t stop
Remembering me. Render my fat, as you would make soap,
The kind that stings
Your eyes in the shower.

Long Live Wolf Kahn

My favorite living artist is German born Wolf Kahn. There should really be more accessible images of his best work online, but here is an interesting sample:




Wolf, wherever you are today, thanks for pushing the butter fat around. For those of you who want a better look at his work, see the book 'Wolf Kahn' by Justin Spring. See it at Amazon and buy it.

Evidence is deceiving

Evidently, evidence is not going to work in most arguments.

Today, inclusiveness is good, non-inclusiveness is bad, and any who disagree are not human beings but filthy animals.

Not that I have anything against animals. You're not an animal hater are you? Because if you are, then you are less than human.

Labels

We like to label everything and everybody. Liberal, conservative, Muslim, Jew, young, old, black, white, red, yellow.

But at the end of the day, all there is that we are talking to is a person. Someone with their own hopes and dreams, their own personal problems that transcend any traditional guidelines or labels. Someone that has feelings and needs.

Right Mom?

August 4, 2005

On that day, a year and three weeks hence, I easily imagine myself sitting in air conditioned splendor on the fifth floor of the Flagship Hotel in Galveston. I'm wearing a blue cotton shirt. My wife is out on the patio, throwing crackers to the swooping seagulls.

The point of this mental exercise is to understand that we are NOT bound by space and time, and that our minds ARE quantum organs capable of amazing acts that science cannot begin to comprehend, such as visiting the future or other places our bodies cannot get to.

Borges and Castaneda and Vermeer and Satie all touched on these issues. Asimov hints at it and of course, Hawking lives it every day in his wheelchair. I'm still reconciling the fact of quantum mind with the phenomenon of God, which seems to be related to it.

More on this at an earlier date.

You are not here

Today things happened.

Even Stephen

I think that Steven Hawking is a saint
At least a wizard,
As he chairs his way through time

Stopping now and then to exude genius
And incomprehensibility. The letter
That I wrote him, when he was in Spain,
Was never answered. How cruel.

They still call me heartless
For cursing the day I was born, under my breath.
The shades of drill steel yellow
Grip themselves around my waist.

Tomorrow I will have fallen
Off of the roof
By Two.

But today I am in Spain.

Equipment evaluation notes - Week 1

There is no justice. The weather is beautiful here in Koln, and we plan on driving over to Paris this weekend. I should be able to view my old apartment from the Hill. Last night we stayed out late drinking at one of the mini breweries and had quite a long walk back to the hotel on the Rhine. The white asparagus is in season, and we hope to get some tomorrow.

Last night Gary said that we may be here another two weeks because the testing isn't going as well as he had hoped. The Germans don't care too much for the programming that IBM did for us.

The funniest thing happened yesterday. I was shopping in the square around the Dom, getting souvenir toys for my sons, and found out my company issued American Express card had expired, even though I've been using it successfully for the last four days. Well, just like the silly Karl Malden commercials, I found an American Express office on the west side of the Dom, and they were able to get my card confirmed and renewed. There was another guy in there who was from L.A. and we started talking about the riots.

Anyway, in about ten minutes they had me fixed up with another card, so I guess I can hold onto all the German Marks and paper money that I got at the exchange.

Rick called from work and said that when we get back the company has bought personal computers for all of us, part of the deal with IBM. They're supposed to run something called Windows, and we won't have to use multimate anymore to write reports. There's a class next month that Wes is going to teach.

More tomorrow.

Narrow escape

Hormones were never meant to be used in the presence of 8 track tapes. My Pioneer unit almost caused a disaster with the dimmer lights on low in my room last night. Fortunately, my complexion once again saved me, replacing self-loathing with self-loathing.

Ayn Rand won't care if I don't believe in her anymore, because she's hiding behind her russian accent in the corner. What I'm feeling has no words, but it goes with looking in a mirror and wondering who this is. It also goes with looking back at the past few days and wondering why the hell I did and said so many stupid things.

I need to get some more bags for my comic books.