Memorial Day 2004

Monday, 31 May 2004

flag.jpgI took a break man­u­al­ly up­dat­ing en­tries from two years ago to go to the park and toss the ‘bee for a bit. What start­ed out as a sod­den day turned out bet­ter than ex­pect­ed. I en­joyed the weath­er, my time off from work and some thought­ful­ness.
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Sunday, 30 May 2004

I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay.neon_lumberjack.jpg My host­ing com­pa­ny, log​jam​ming​.com, was hacked last Thursday. If you missed it and would like to see what the hack end­ed up look­ing like, look at this. I’m keen to think that they were nice hack­ers.
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Walden Quotes

Thursday, 27 May 2004

…if I re­pent of any­thing, it is very like­ly to be my good be­hav­ior. -Economy

Spaghetti Con Vino

I don’t think I’ve ever writ­ten about food. I’m on an eat what I’m hun­gry for di­et. This is not di­et used in ‘what I eat to lose weight’ in­stead it is used in the ‘what I eat cause I’m hun­gry’ sense.
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The Lathe of Heaven and The Silence in Heaven

Wednesday, 26 May 2004

I read two books in two days. Yes, I’ve al­ready fin­ished the books I picked up Sunday at the li­brary. Besides both hav­ing the word ‘heav­en’ in the ti­tle and both us­ing the word ‘mil­que­toast’ in the ex­po­si­tion, they are very dif­fer­ent.

The Silence of Heaven by Peter Lord-Wolff is a pret­ty de­cent first nov­el. The plot con­cerns it­self with Fallen Angels and a spe­cif­ic Fallen Angel named Tashum who is try­ing to re­turn to the Light of Heaven. This take on the Fall is a new one for me and wel­come, some might take it as a jus­ti­fi­ca­tion of the re­bel­lion against God [or, in this book, the Voice] but those who see it this way are miss­ing the author’s in­ten­tion. [Yes, I set up a straw man to burn it down] Lord-Wolff gives an ex­cel­lent con­struc­tion for ex­am­in­ing the spir­i­tu­al na­ture of hu­man­i­ty by pro­ject­ing the same de­sires on­to a be­ing with more grace. It is a rather good ex­am­ple of what I think is meant by:

“All the same,” replied Syme pa­tient­ly, “just at present you on­ly see the tree by the light of the lamp. I won­der when you would ever see the lamp by the light of the tree.” -G.K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday

The book al­so has a dif­fer­ent take on the sub­ject of vam­pires [I must ad­mit I was dis­ap­point­ed when they showed up, I just want­ed a book about an­gels and fall­en an­gels]. In Lord-Wolff’s world vam­pires are cre­at­ed by drink­ing the blood of an an­gel. Which was in­ter­est­ing. As a whole the book was a promis­ing first ef­fort for a new au­thor. I hope that he ma­tures in his fur­ther nov­els.

Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Lathe of Heaven has fi­nal­ly se­cured her place among my fa­vorite au­thors. The fact that she is the daugh­ter of my sec­ond fa­vorite an­thro­pol­o­gist Alfred Kroeber def­i­nite­ly car­ries through in­to her work. I’ve al­ways thought of an­thro­pol­o­gy as a sort of ap­plied phi­los­o­phy, a phys­i­cal analy­sis of meta­phys­i­cal be­ing. LeGuin seems to un­der­stand this and takes it a step fur­ther. Instead of doc­u­ment­ing and an­a­lyz­ing, she al­so fills her work with im­pli­ca­tion. She thinks things through and has an eerie un­der­stand­ing of the blocks and wid­gets that form a cul­tur­al sys­tem. She can take one of these blocks, change it slight­ly and make very good refractive/​reflective state­ments on our own be­lief sys­tems. She is a mas­ter at see­ing the lamp by the light of the tree.

The Lathe of Heaven is a very com­pli­cat­ed book. The plot con­cerns it­self with a man named George Orr who dreams ‘ef­fec­tive­ly.’ That is, his dreams change re­al­i­ty. He is un­der the psy­chi­atric care of a Dr. Haber, who is us­ing Orr to play God and at­tempt to cre­ate a utopia. This nov­el ad­dress­es prob­lems that are so com­plex I don’t re­al­ly know how to ex­pli­cate them. It is very psy­cho­log­i­cal, it rais­es eth­i­cal dilem­mas, ques­tions the na­ture of re­al­i­ty, de­fines san­i­ty is a star­tling man­ner, and un­der­mines some of the in­her­ent as­sump­tions that we Westerners hold so dear. I read it cov­er to cov­er last night. Even if you don’t like spec­u­la­tive or sci­ence fic­tion you should read this book. The sci­ence-fic­tion is not heavy hand­ed. It was made in­to a movie back in 1980 and then again in­to a movie by A&E both of which I am go­ing to have to track down. Read this book.

ADDENDUM: I for­got to men­tion that I at­tribute this sud­den jump back in to my usu­al read­ing habits to the fact that I now have a bed. I typ­i­cal­ly read ful­ly re­clined on a couch or bed and now that I have the lat­ter I can read com­fort­ably.

An Open Letter to All Women

Tuesday, 25 May 2004


Everything is go­ing to be al­right. I fi­nal­ly un­der­stand. Yesterday I had an epiphany and reached en­light­en­ment of a sort. I know you are mad­ly in love with me; and that is okay. I’m writ­ing this to tell you that be­ing to­tal­ly con­sumed by the fires of your ar­dor is a good thing. You don’t have to fight against it. Go ahead, sur­ren­der your­self to your pas­sions and lose your­self in your love for me. There is noth­ing to fear of love.

I cer­tain­ly didn’t ex­pect this to be the case. Until yes­ter­day I hadn’t re­al­ized what an amaz­ing­ly fan­tas­tic per­son I am, how dev­as­tat­ing­ly hand­some, how I am ex­act­ly what every woman on this earth wants. Every woman knows me, for I am her great­est de­sire. I had not imag­ined I was so in­her­ent­ly gift­ed. I must ad­mit, it is quite the re­spon­si­bil­i­ty. That is, hold­ing in my hands, as it were, the very be­ings of each of you. Having in my pow­er, if I so chose to do so, the abil­i­ty to make fists of my hands and de­stroy your very souls.

I must cer­tain­ly ap­pear quite god­like to you ladies. I can suc­cor or smite thee, raise you up or cast you down in­to ru­in. The pow­er of this re­al­iza­tion has gone to my head a bit. But still, there is no rea­son to fear love. There is no rea­son to pre­tend that you don’t know me, pre­tend that you don’t want me with every last glu­on of your be­ing. There is no longer any need for you to hide from your true feel­ing by say­ing that you love an­oth­er. There is forever­more no re­al pur­pose to any re­sis­tance on your part to the en­gulf­ing force of your de­sire. Do not run away from love, in­stead run in­to it.

I can feel your heart race when you catch even the briefest glimpse of me. I am aware of the machi­na­tions and lengths to which you are will­ing to sub­mit your­selves to in or­der to gain prox­im­i­ty to me. I am amazed at the strength of your char­ac­ter and in your abil­i­ties to suc­cess­ful­ly con­ceal your zeal all of these years. But I tell you now, that is no longer need­ed. I know. I know and I have ac­cept­ed my re­spon­si­bil­i­ty. I have enough love for you all. Come un­to me and find peace and ful­fill­ment. Do not fear your love for me. I am here and no one of you need be afraid of your love again.

Yours, Truly,


Running Into Things

Monday, 24 May 2004

I ran in­to near rush-hour traf­fic this morn­ing on the way to work and then dis­cov­ered that many peo­ple must have de­cid­ed that Monday was get to work ass-ear­ly just like Adam day. Yesterday, I ran to the li­brary and picked up a cou­ple of books, [The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. LeGuin and The Silence in Heaven by Peter Lord-Wolff] and my lim­it of three DVDs, all for­eign. I nabbed Chushingura — Hana no ma­ki yu­ki no ma­ki [a short­er ver­sion of the same sto­ry in The 47 Ronin, and this one has Toshiro in it]; The 400 Blows [Criterion Collection DVD, w00t!]; and Ren? Clair’s ? nous la lib­ert?. While run­ning pri­or to that, I ran in­to some dog shit and it ran with me for the rest of my run. Or, at least it ran with me un­til I ran in­to a big suck­ing mud pud­dle and al­most lost a hoof. Before that, I ran nowhere be­cause I was still re­cov­er­ing from run­ning in­to a wall on Saturday af­ter­noon when the falafel I’d had Saturday morn­ing de­cid­ed to run around in my in­testi­nal tract. I had done some run­ning on Saturday whilst si­mul­ta­ne­ous­ly throw­ing a fris­bee as well.

Why am I al­ways run­ning every­where? I should take the time to stop and smell the trees/​bushes that grow along 77 and 90 and are there [in my the­o­ry] to cut the smell of the foundry/​steel mill/​chemical pro­cess­ing fa­cil­i­ty just past them. They smell fa­mil­iar but I’m not sure what they are, ex­act­ly. When I ac­tu­al­ly go run­ning my work­out con­sists of run­ning and then walk­ing and then run­ning and then walk­ing and then run­ning and then walk­ing again. Not very dis­ci­plined. I fig­ure, how­ev­er, that if I just ex­tend the amount of time my work­out takes, then I will even­tu­al­ly be able to cut out most of the walk­ing. I will end this en­try abrupt­ly.