You did, Tommy. You did,

Now, I've never been to the self-proclaimed America's Fair, so I suppose I shouldn't judge. I will tell you, though, that an event which features both pig races and slot machines just doesn't sound like my thing.

Of course, if this is going on, I may just have to swing in.

BBBBQB: Vindication

Great news! BBQ Beef, which was withheld from us for so long, has returned! Perhaps this was all simply a ploy to make us appreciate the delectation all the more.

Apologeia Cosplaea

Revising the play, and this has given me cause to reflect on that most geeky of pastimes -- cosplay.

While I do enjoy Halloween more than most, I recognize that dressing up in character for a movie premiere or other geek event crosses the line of normalcy. Too bad, really. People went crazy trying to dress up like newly Jetted Brett Favre, and no one seems to mind.

Sure, more often than not cosplay, as evidenced by these pics from comic-con, ends up with scrawny guys trying to look like super-soldiers ...















fat men dressed as super-soldiers....














and women dressed in utter teenage-geek-fantasy skantitude...














but sometimes the hobby/obsession can yield some impressive recreations.

















The trouble is that comics and video-games, being visual media, are of course going to depict impossibly good-looking people in physically improbable clothing. You can dress your average person up like Green Lantern all you want, but it's going to look strange unless he's body-builder with plastic sprayed on his skin. And even then.

The Japanese Project Part I

Holy crap learning Japanese is hard.

So, there are four different alphabets. One is based in the Latin alphabet, which is nice, but it's only used to communicate with stupid gaijin like myself. There are two phonetic alphabets, one of which is only used for words imported from other languages. (After what date, I'm not sure). But the main alphabet is pretty much only used in kindergarten books, since the inscrutable kanji make up most of the written language.

To add to the fun, there are four different levels of formality in speech, and the grammatical rules apparently change for each. Awesome.

Updates

Greenfern was featured in an article on Buffalo Rising, which is the closest thing to publicity we've managed so far. Not a strictly accurate article, but any word is good word, right?

9/22 is that date of the RLTP reading of The Alpha Geek, which should be an enlightening experience. I mean, you can write this stuff, but can you say it?

I've started teaching myself Japanese. More updates later.

End of line.

The RLTP Project, Part 4

We're rapidly approaching the next phase in the project, the one where actual actors get up and do a reading of the play. The director emailed me today to discuss, and asked me this question:

If I were to select 4or 5 sci-fi or fantasy movies to watch as dramaturgical research - what would they be?

Holy crap! Now there's a question for the ages. My response below:

Certainly LOTR and Star Wars. I recommend the Sci-Fi Channel's mini-series Dune (not the movie from the 70's). Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within is a good, accessible anime movie based on a well-known Japanese video game series. For fantasy, Stardust and Willow are both fun watches. There is a Dungeons and Dragons movie which I did not watch, but may be good for research purposes. Also, there is a documentary called Trekkies about the extreme end of hard-core Star Trek geekdom about which I've heard nothing but positive reviews and certainly depicts the kind of people we're talking about.

*snif* I'm so proud. An acolyte of my very own!

Smells like Dork Spirit

OK, ladies. Looking for a way to attract the attentions of a book-lover like myself? Try this perfume. Guaranteed to turn the pencil-necked heads of owl-eyed Classics majors everywhere. I'll be honest -- I don't think I can be expected to be held accountable for my actions if I smell this on someone, so if you want avoid a tawdry night of discussion on Sir Orfeo, use it with care.

Jump back and forth

I quite unexpectedly felt genuine chills at one point in this BBC Olympics ad. If there were any doubts left that Jamie Hewlitt is mega-talented, please put them to rest.

Home for a Rest

Yep, still ludicrously busy. Not quite Garvey busy, but close.

Extrey extrey

Greenfern can now be found at Talking Leaves on Elmwood. Met with good ol' Alicia today to get everything set. Here's hoping I edited everything well.

With lots of bubbles.

Stealing a few moments for a quick post. Allow me to give you some movie ratings.

The Squid and the Whale. Thumbs-down.
Good Night and Good Luck. Thumbs patriotically up.
Batman: Gotham Knight. Thumbs up.
The Dark Knight. Thumbs (yawn... excuse me) up.
Jumper: Rock horns up accompanied by a slow head nod.
Appleseed Ex Machina: Thumbs unsurprisingly down.

I Live.

Yes, I am still alive. Busy busy busy of late. A few updates.

Issue #1 of Greenfern Magazine is now complete. The process of distribution and marketing begins now. Interested in one? Send an email over to greenfernmag@gmail.com.

I have been playing as much FF3 as I can fit in. I mean, one of the jobs is Scholar, and he attacks people with books. How am I supposed to resist that?

My new job is not a cake job. So stop saying that.

The RLTP Project, Parts 2 and 3

The main concern was that non-geeks wouldn't find it funny. As it turns out, they were OK with it. Packing the text with references to Dune and The Lord of the Rings struck me as risky, but the group didn't seem to mind.

One of the plays we covered last week used 9-11 as a backdrop. It wasn't about 9-11, just about fictional events that took place at the same time. As you can imagine, this got the group talking. A lot. So the question is, is it too soon? Is seven years not enough distance?

BBBBQB Continued

For those of you who are not blogddicted enough to read comments, I received the following anonymous response to my previous post:

While the BBQ Beef is a No-Show this year, I hear from trusted sources the Mighty Taco is about to launch a new menu item on the 30th of June that is going to please the stomachs of many in Buffalo. I can't wait too taste it myself!!!!

Hmmm.... I offer now an open letter to this mystery commenter.

Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for your interest in the plight of Mighty lovers. I was delighted to receive your comment, especially the words "this year". What this phrase implies is that our beloved BBQ beef may return in the future. Please feel free to share my opinion with your trusted sources.

The beginning of BBQ beef season is a well-honored holiday in my household and in those of a large percentage of my friends. Few can deny that the delectable seasonal menu item is among the -- if not the -- tastiest offered by Mighty. Just last night, as a discussion was held bemoaning the plight of the BBQ-lover this year, it was called the best food produced locally. Never mind spiced chicken remnants; BBQ beef is tops.

While I am sure the new menu item will compare with the majority of the Mighty menu, I will be truly amazed if it provides the level of enjoyment which has been denied to us. I look forward to BBQ beef's return next year, which will be received with great joy across the city.

Yours,
Alex

BBBBQB

I was just informed by a polite if laconic Mighty Taco employee that there is to be no Barbecue Beef. So, the price of gas makes travel prohibitive, food prices are up, a new cigarette tax further vilifies my kind, and now there's no BBQ beef. What a time to be alive.

Keep the Apocalypse British!

So, the Brits deploy a big ol' computer defense system which is sure to decide the best way to fulfill its' programming and ensure peace is to end all human life and they actually name it Skynet?

Hail to the Me

Did I tell you guys I'm running for president? Well, I am.

Forward

A post on webshite? Believe it.

Why do we fall?

I present to you, gentle reader, a series of events.

• I receive clearance to grow a beard.
• I grow said beard.
• I am informed politely that the aforementioned beard is leaning towards the scruffy direction.
• I buy a beard trimmer.
• The beard is trimmed by Yours Truly.
• I notice that my hair is also a tad on the scruffy side.
• The hair is trimmed by Yours Truly.

So, if you're wondering why on this sweet Earth I look like a cross between a mange-ridden chipmunk and a young Maeve Garvey, consider this mystery solved.

Random book stuff

I can't tell if I'm obsessed with literature, knowledge, or just books. It might just be books. Not bookbinding or typography, just books. On shelves, in stacks, under chairs, wherever -- a row of spines always grabs my attention. So much potential there, so much information just waiting for my ready eye.

It should come as no surprise then that this post, entitled Hot Library Smut, really gets me going.

I've seen images of the Trinity College Library before, but only because of my lasting interest in Star Wars and the book-geek scandal of the Jedi library. Seriously, check the link.

While we're on the topic of fictional libraries, the Sandman series features the best I can come up with. The library in the Dreaming has not only ever book ever written, but ever book ever dreamed of. That novel you're thinking about penning? It's in there.

Lastly, it seems I am out of the running for the Early Reviewers program. I have been denied for several months running now. Alas -- but at least I won't have to read awful books anymore.

Again I say 'Fie'!

While we're on the topic of my perennially late ideas, I think it's worth noting that the title of my play is 'The Alpha Geek". The plural form of this happens to be the title of an op-ed column printed in yesterday's New York Times by a gentle looking fellow in a pink shirt.

Dang it!

The RLTP Project, Part 1

I've never been too keen on the idea of a writer's workshop. The image is somewhere between an AA meeting and a slumber party, neither event being something I have attended to date and neither being something I think I would enjoy. That being stated, I have also never had a piece of creative writing published. So, perhaps it is time to ingest some pride and give it a go.

I wrote a play last year, and now am a part of this year's Road Less Traveled Productions new play workshop. A dozen folks are going to read each others plays and then see them read by in-the-flesh actors. Mine happens to be up first, so at least I'll get that out of the way fast.

The play is an experiment of sorts, taking the timeworn standards of the Mistaken Identity plot and the Comedy of Manners (capitalization added for the appearance of maximum intellectualousity) and testing them out in the world of geekery. Boy Meets Girl at a sci-fi convention.

Now, I had a fine time writing this and even think it may have some funniness to it at points, but having people far more literate than myself evaluate it? Read it aloud? Goodness gracious me.

Inevitable.

My latest fiction endeavor has been a steampunk serial in which victorian age Britain has made space travel possible via the invention of ether propulsion. Been working on the story for 6 months or so.

I just discovered Larklight, which the Wik describes as follows: Larklight is set in an alternate Victorian era universe, where mankind has been exploring the solar system since the time of Isaac Newton.

Dang it! Missed the aether-boat again!

Now that's better.

OK. I compared the Telegraph list to the books I have in collections, anthologies, etc, and the real total is 35. Take that, Saldanha!

Just to check notes

A recent article in the Telegraph provides a list of the 110 books which make up "the perfect library". Definitely worth a read.

Since I am a book geek, I set up an LT library to compare with my own.

Apparently I only own eighteen (outside of stuff in anthologies etc). For shame!

You really do always come back!

The next season of Avatar: the Last Airbender is on its way. All i have to say is withhold your knocking until you have tried it.

Book 'em

I'm beginning to sense a trend when it comes to the Early Reviewers program at Library Thing. I haven't been OKed for a book since The 13th Reality. Of course, the fact that my last review was roughly ten words probably doesn't help by odds.

One of the books this time around in Anathem by Neal Stephenson. Based on my collection, I think I have a decent chance. I'll keep you posted.

Yeehaw.

I've done the math, and if gas reached five dollars per gallon, it would more cost-effective for me to own a horse. Sure, convincing the places I go that horse-parking is OK may take some doing, but it would be worth it.

The Racism Post

In Which the Blogger Goes There

I sincerely wish that we could look back on racism and laugh. In a time when high-schoolers have never lived a moment of their lives without the faceless internet, one might think the concept that you can tell what a person is going to do by looking at them would be over, a relic, a foolish notion of our ancestors. Like the divine right of kings or war being good for the health.

Alas, no. The practice of categorizing people based on ethnic lines still thrives, and not just with the aged, at whom we can shake our heads and say they don't know any better, but with everyone. Racism, like the inalienable human rights we claim, seems to recognize no boundaries,

Part of the issue stems from ethnic pride, of all places. We wave our foreign flags, toast in the few non-English words we know, and tell our children that the nationality of our forefathers is superior to the others. Our food is the best. We built this country. Our noble ancestors did this or that great thing, and our fellow Blankians (where blank is some race, creed, or nationality) conduct affairs in the best way possible. Not like those other people.

By aligning ourselves with things we did not do, with a history we took no part in creating, we put ourselves and our children into a category. And if we're in one, everyone else must be as well.

Another source of the persistence of racism is far more wide-reaching than holiday bluster. Turn on your TV and see how Obama is doing with white Catholics. Go to work and talk to the marketing people about their strategies for the urban vs. suburban markets. Institutions which make their living based on what people choose perpetuate the concept that groups of individuals can be fit into tidy, preordained boxes.

On one side, this is nonsense. Chaos theory can't predict the movements of caribou – why would statistics predict what free-thinking humans will do? The trouble is, on the other side this makes perfect sense. Of course people from the same background who live in the same neighborhood, attend the same church, send their children to the same school will tend to do some of the same things. As social beings, we feed off of each other, learning our language and behaviors from those surrounding us.

So, fine. Some tendencies of pockets of people can be predicted. I'm from New England and I drink too much. As all animals do, we learn. Last time I touched a porcupine, I ended up with these weird needles stuck in my hand – best not do that again. So, if the first few times I see people from New England they're drunk, I learn.

As an employer, then, should I assume that if I see UVM on a resume I should not hire this person? I mean, they'll be late all the time nursing that hangover.

But people aren't porcupines. Plenty of people in New England don't drink at all. We've all met Irishmen that have never been in a fight, Italians without mafia connections, anglos that can dance, Latinos that aren't emotional, etc.

That last bit raised an eyebrow, yes? We have no problems discussing the irish, italians, and anglos, but throw in a protected class and the racism-ometer spikes, doesn't it? And not because we're afraid someone might hear us, but because we're afraid we might be tagged as racists and lose our jobs.

This seems unfair. It's not. When our parents were kids, a few black guys tried to go to college and the National Guard had to show up. When our elderly remember their grandparents, they remember people who lived with – and fought a war over – the concept that people from Africa were better off living as Christian chattel than pagan free men. If asking people to tip-toe around a few issues is all it takes to bring our nation closer to the vision laid out in the Declaration, then too bad. Next time you swell with pride over the accomplishments of your ancestors, consider a little political correctness to be the payment. I know you never owned any slaves; you didn't fight in WWII either.

Any time we give the government the right to decide what people can and cannot say or think, we should get very nervous. A watchful eye must be kept on this, to be sure, but until we stop both individually and institutionally classifying people into genera based on tannin-level, it is for the best.

Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

I start a new job Monday, a new position within the same company. This has been coming for quite some time, and while I understood it intellectually, the emotional wallop of passing my life's work on to another person did not hit home until I moved my stuff.

I wrote an article for Artvoice a while back on how to decorate one's office/cubicle, a subtle art to be sure. Just what does one want to represent? And how to do this? For now, my trappings are all hidden away. As I assert myself in the new space with time, though, these question will raise themselves again.

Hey! Listen!

Allow me to geek out for a moment. I share with a life-long obsession: familiars.

I don't know what else to call them really. Pet-like little guys that fly around your shoulders and help you with stuff. These are, of course, completely fictional to date.

I believe it started with Tron. That little Bit guy (in Spanish below) flitting about left a serious imprint on my young geek sensibilities.



Years went by, and as a college graduate I played The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time. Widely considered the best game ever created, many people criticize Navi, Link's constant counterpart. Yes, perhaps her persistent wheedling can get a little annoying, but she certainly fits the bill as a familiar, and thus I love her.



Not geeky enough? OK, fine. Once I got an Xbox, the mysteries of Halo became my playthings, including 343 Guilty Spark. A lunatic librarian made by an long-dead alien race. How could I not go for that?



Still not satisfied? My favorite of all time is Bao-dur's remote from KOTOR2. It's a Jedi training remote familiar. FEEL THE AWESOMITUDE!

Now, what's a boy to do? Essentially, what I'm dreaming of here is a flying, voice-activated iPhone with a great AI system and a personality.

Well, seeing how this would require a level of tinkering far beyond my own, obviously the only option is to build my own steampunk familiar in Second Life. And yes, Sparky the etherworks pet is coming along just fine, thank you for asking.

Mean, mean pride

Has anyone else noticed how many songs from Rockband are on the radio?

Sure, it might be an increased awareness thing, but following Gimme Shelter with Tom Sawyer just smacks of a bit more than coincidence.

Get me my walker!

Two "you're getting old" face-slaps within mere moments today.

The young woman who sold me my fries had a picture of The Fonz next to her register. When I inquired about it, she told me her coworkers had brought her the grinning Henry Winkler jpeg because she had never heard of him. The Fonz. She had never heard of the Fonz.

Shortly afterwards, a fifty-year-old man walked by me wearing a T-shirt featuring Sonic the Hedgehog. It said "Old School" on it.

Criminy.

Just in time for spring.

I have always considered myself something of a stoic. I don't really get worked up about things either positive or negative, an even keel being my persistent goal. I did find myself laughing out loud when watching Rome and hearing the line “You’ll not turn to drink, will you? You stoic types often do when disappointed in life.”

The American Heritage def of 'stoic' give s us a bit on where the word comes from:

[Middle English Stoic, a Stoic, from Latin Stōicus, from Greek Stōikos, from stoā (poikilē), (Painted) Porch, where Zeno taught; see stā- in Indo-European roots.]

That's right -- the Stoics were the original porchers.

And another

Well look who started a blog. Frequent commenter John has opened http://maltirish.blogspot.com

for business. Get over there.

Spoooooky

Must... post.... to blog....

A hearty thanks to Garv for spearheading what is sure to become the most definitive movement in the first half of the 21st century, and congrats to all who have managed to post every day. I mean, I got into a fight with an author, bought a laptop, started playing Second Life, and shaved my head to keep things interesting.

For the record, Nanowrimo started with just 21 participants. We've got that beat! I did send Garv a note of thanks today, which can be viewed here.

Just in case a "wow, we did it" post doesn't count, I'll continue.

Apparently, Jules Verne is trying to talk to me from beyond the grave. Or maybe just from the grave. Either way, he wants to chat. He just keeps coming up. Several times in bufblopofo (tieing with Tupac, I believe). Went to a lecture on the Darwin Martin house (apparently, we are those people), and was told the Courier Express claimed that Jules Verne must have moved to Buffalo, since the style was so odd.

What do you have to say to me, Monsieur? Are you encouraging my latest writing project? Angry with me for detesting The Clipper in the Clouds? Whatever it is, I'll try to get my hands on a ouija board. See you soon.

75% Less Hippie

Just an FYI, BufBloPoFo MoFo's Scheduled outage at 5:00PM PDT.

BufBloPoFo Topic for Day 13: When the writer’s return kicks back in and all the good TV comes back, what’s your viewing list going to be?

Let's play a MadLib. TV Shows: Heroes, Battlestar Galactica, Journeyman, Boston Legal.


"I keep watching ___(show)___, even though it's not good."


The one show I can honestly say I want to see come back is Mad Men. Start watching this show. Yes, they smoke and drink all the time, and no that's not the reason I like it. Not the only reason.

Sure, Jess drools all over the couch every time the main character shows his Brylcreamy head. It's worth it.

Buddenbrooks is everywhere.

Yes, another post about LibraryThing.

http://www.librarything.com/groups/iseedeadpeoplesbooks

This is a group which catalogs the libraries of of dead people. As an LT member, I can compare my collection with theirs. I assume it will come as little surprise that I don't have any books in common with Tupac Shakur*, but I was astonished to find how many I have in common with Hemingway. Gladdening to see I don't share any with Dreiser, depressing I have none with Joyce. 21 books in common with Walker Percy? Really?

Can you tell anything about someone from their library? How much? Somewhere between "where they came from" and "who they wanted to be", I'd say.


*Yes, that's two Tupac references this fortnight. Didn't see that comin', didja?

One-and-a-half Life

Second Life intrigues me. Millions of people gadding about, creating whatever they want and doing as they please in a completely user-maintained environment. No shooting, no competition, just wandering around.

Maybe it's the similarities with the Metaverse from Snow Crash (a fave). Maybe it's my HR-geek sensibilities, since companies all over use it. Whatever it is, I want to know more.

Now that I am the proud owner of the star-blessed lappy-so-happy, I am actually able to run Second Life (albeit with limited graphics). I set myself up a character, skimmed the orientation stuff, played dress-up, and got to it.

But, got to what? What the heck do people do on this thing? My initial wanderings produced nothing to maintain my interest. One of the sites I reference from time to time in my steamjournalism is The Heliograph and this guy talks a lot about a steampunk locale in Second Life. I figured I'd swing by.

Okay, so Victorian-style buildings, Victorian-style clothes... by this point I still haven't figured out the draw. By happenstance I come across a library. Someone has built a library, making public domain Vic Lit available to read in-game. I pull up a chair and start on some Jules Verne.

In other words, I end up doing EXACTLY WHAT I DO IN REAL LIFE.

Alex in real life:













Alex in Second Life:













Apparently, the way I live my Primary Life is pretty well-suited to me. Even in a fantasy world, I end up holed up somewhere with my nose in a century-old book.

CLUB!

Having been to New Orleans all of once (not nearly enough to start referring to it as either Nola or The Big Easy), I cannot claim to be an authority. I spent a few days in the French Quarter, venturing out to an A&P in a collegey area once or twice. Nonetheless, I feel perfectly comfortable making the following observation.

The bars in the French Quarter do not favor the colors green or purple. Even during my obligatory walk down Bourbon Street I saw neither color in any large amount. Why, then, do bars in Buffalo insist on decorating like the Joker when they try to go all New Orleans?

As you can tell, I went to Chippewa's latest destination for skeeviness, Bayou, recently. Some multiple office happy hour thing. Nothing quite like seeing scores of business-casual, fifty-something suburbanites forced to suffer in a bar designed for nineteen-year-olds. As I remember, though, Ya Ya's had a similar design approach.

Where did this come from? Are green and purple the official Mardi Gras colors? I know green is for Ordinary Time and purple is for Lent -- is that it?

I say, Holmes. How Do You Do It?

I'm realizing I didn't really flesh this out yesterday, so allow me to expand. One of things I was really into as a kid was Victorian adventure literature. Yes, I know this makes me a weirdo.

From the best I can remember, it started with Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped!. After getting a taste, I went on to devour the more accessible titles in the genre. The complete Sherlock Holmes, much of Poe, the biggies from Wells and Stevenson, even a smattering of Verne.

It's difficult to figure what drew me to these books. Why didn't I read, say, Star Wars novels or what little young adult fiction existed at the time? Why century-old books?

I maintain that the written English word reached the zenith of its grammatical quality in the late 1800's. After that, the modernists came in and stripped it of all complexity, applying the factory-manager's tenets to literature. Streamline it, do more with less, function before form. Imagine if poor Tennyson had been born in 1930.

A combination of the challenging language and the exciting subject matter made this stuff perfect for a young Alex. And did it affect who I am as a person. Take a look at my apartment and you can tell me.

Fifty Per Cent

A bit of housekeeping today.

Apparently BufBloPoFo has been enough of a success to date that our compatriots simply cannot resist starting blogs. Please welcome Greg at the Wannabe Outdoorsman and Amanda at Popcorn to the rewarding world of blogging.

I have been horribly remiss in responding to this week's comments. I bought and HP, not a Toshiba. I have not seen Interstellar 5555 -- I always assumed Daft Punk took an existing movie and re-cut it to fit their song, which is much cooler than what they actually did. Vista still sucks, though some of the features are pretty all right. I just wish it would stop clicking on things unasked.


1: I started this blog to get more practice writing. I'm not sure if the previous sentence is grammatically correct.
2: The best gift I have ever received was a combo -- my dictionary and thesaurus, which are dope.
3: Things that went right today -- It's snowy enough to not do anything. Rad.
4: Play me in a movie. Depending on the type of movie, David Duchovny or James Marsden. Play Garv, Broderick.
5: Etiquette - already covered.
6: Stuff I was into as a kid: Star Wars, GI Joe, Victorian adventure literature, Voltron, Atari.
7: In my wallet. Standards.
8: Current music. The endless mix of post-medieval church music and suicide rock that Jess plays. And Rock It by Gorillaz. Hate the video, like the song.

Chromedome

Well, I'm bald. I participated in Bald For Bucks, a fundraiser for Roswell, and now have zero hair.

Now, what is wrong with the people I work with? Nobody called me Lex Luthor. Nobody called me Charles Xavier. No Destro, no Lobot. I did hear Jason Statham, though, which is tough to be unhappy about.

I'll tell you this -- my head is cold.

Another Open Letter

Dear Windows -

It's about Vista. If I had wanted a Mac, I would have shelled out the dough to add one to my list of fashionable accessories*. As it turns out, I want a PC. You'll note the use of the present tense "want".

I was an Apple guy once, back when you needed to know what to put after a C prompt to make an IBM-clone do anything other than blink at you mockingly. I used to say 'an Apple is a tool, and a PC is a hobby'. Used my tried and true Macintosh SE through college without issue. Then I grew up and got a job.

So, you hooked me. I left the world of smiling icons to enter one of deadly blue screens, happy to spend hours of my life watching Scandisk try to undo whatever horrible thing I had done to my PC (simply by trying to use it). My lifelong obsession with videogames reached new heights, and I came to love the accessibility of every aspect of a PC's function offered by Windows 98 as I tweaked and tweaked, desperate to improve framerate.

Having become a willing devotee of Uncle Bill, I came to detest the Macolytes. Why pay so much for a pretty case wrapped around a machine that wouldn't let you mess with it? They were useless from a business standpoint and had precisely crapola for games. Yet friends and family, people I care about, fell to the lure of the quick and easy path of Mac ownership.

And now, having carried the torch for these many years, I am slapped in the face with this new Mac-like OS. Why don't you just replace the Start menu with the Finder and move the X to the other side of the window while you're at it?

With unflagging love,

Alex


* This list is very, very short.

Lappy So Happy

I blog to you now from the new laptop. I'm not going to tell you that Alanna's recommendation of astrologyzone.com led to the purchase, but I will say that apparently one twelfth of the world's population would do well to buy an electronic device in March according to the stars.

It is an indisputable fact of modern life that Best Buy's 20-something staffers will try desperately to upsell you a bunch of stuff you don't need. This is despicable, as they normally use the coarsest of scare tactics to get the ill-informed to make poor decisions with their money. Want to shut them up? I suggest the following:

BB - What are you using this computer for?
AL - Wireless internet and word processing.
BB - Are you familiar with Vista?
AL - Yes. (Technically not true, but assume our definitions of 'familiar' differ in this context.)
BB - Well, it doesn't come with a word processor like...
AL - Not to worry. I use open source software for that.

At this point, the poor fellow blinked several times. 'Open source' is the blue-polo-shirt equivalent of 'Rumplestiltskin'.

BB - Well, what do you use for security? Viruses...
AL - I use open source for that, too.
BB - (now sweating) How about a service plan? You know batteries for these things can cost up to BLANK (where BLANK is half the cost of the laptop). We can (three minutes of pathetic blathering).
AL - No thanks.
BB - Well, here you go, Have a nice day.
AL - That's right, bitch. I know your secret. I am geekier than you pretend to be, and your three-card-monte bullshit doesn't work. Now try to sell me a pre-order of Madden 2015. I dare you.

Officially sanctioned

While I was on my safari in the Buffalo Central Library on the hunt for that Japan book, I found myself with plenty of time to look at the bulletin boards. It was then that I learned of the Buffalo News short fiction contest. They were looking for super-short stories set in Buffalo, so I re-tooled a piece I had (unsuccessfully) submitted to the Artvoice for their flash fiction purposes and sent it to the provided email address.

No response. Not a "thank you for submitting", not a "we got yer thingy", nothing.

The winners were posted recently, including some runners-up. Obviously there was some mistake. My piece is simply filled with quality. Sure, the Artvoice guy didn't recognize it, but perhaps he has some kind of bias. (When I get my Nobel, he'll rue the day he overlooked what was so clear to everyone else.) The News must not have received the complex gem of modern literature I offered them.

So, I emailed again today. A very polite and respectful note congratulating the winners and asking -- just out of curiosity -- for confirmation. Not confirmation for myself as a writer, of course (though an "oh, yours was simply magnificent but didn't really meet requirement X, have you considered The Atlantic?" wasn't outside of the realm of imaginable possibility) but simply confirmation that my opus had been received.

"Sorry, but we read 500 stories and can’t confirm receipt" came the reply. No lead-in, no "yours", nothing but that sentence. And this not two hours after I sent my inquiry.

Now, I've received my share of rejection letters, and this one struck me as unusually rude. One might point out that if I had received a simple "thank you for your entry" I would not have been troubling them at this late date, or that a greeting and signature are normally considered the minimum acceptable etiquette, but these reminders would most certainly fall on ears deafened by the immense responsibility of being paid to read 250,000 words for the only paper in town.

So there you have it, Garvemus: a post on etiquette and protocol. Rejected-writer rage!!!

It's fate.

Dear MTV -

You must have heard I called in sick today. Why else would you play a straight hour of animated videos in the middle of the day?

You should know that all in all, I was satisfied with your choices. Daft Punk's "One More Time" and "Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits are the obvious historical choices, and you did well to include them. "Move Your Feet" maintains its hilarity and "Breaking the Habit" will never cease to be awesome.

That being stated, why two Gorillaz videos? And why was neither of them 19/2000? Also, that Tupac video is awful. I am literally filled with awe at how bad it is.

My only additions might have been "Paranoid Android" (though its like seventy minutes long, weird, and only important to Radiohead freaks, so maybe "Pyramid Song"), Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend" in place of the Daft Punk thing, and lego-tastic "Fell in Love with a Girl".

Yours,
Alex

A Question of Usage

"Youtube it!"

I overheard this imperative the other day. We all know you can google, fedex, and xerox, but does youtube merit a verb form?

I'm leaning towards no. The trouble is, one can search for videos on youtube as well as post them. So, does "youtube it" mean "look for that video on youtube" or "post that video on youtube"?

It could be argued that context would be the deciding factor between the two meanings,
but take for example the following conversation:

"Where did you get this video?"
"I youtubed it."
"Oh, you posted it to youtube?"
"No, I found it on youtube."
"I say. This would be easier if 'youtube' were not a verb."
"Quite right, sir; quite right."

By This I Stand

As you may remember, I participate in Librarything's Early Reviewers program. The latest book I received, The 13th Reality, makes two books I've received and two books I really did not like. My review of the book was downright mean -- it actually made me angry to read this thing, and I opted to shelve my trademark diplomatic demeanor and have at it.

Apparently, the author wasn't so keen on that. His response is here, at the bottom of the page. I would have preferred something more along the lines of "shut up, you prick", but instead it looks as if I actually hurt the guy. Guilt, oh yes I feel it.

I must respond in some fashion, but I certainly will not retract my statements. It would appear most readers disagree with me, as the average rating is 3.78 out of 4 on LT and 5 out of 5 on Amazon, so I assume he can take some solace in that.

My forays into Young Adult fiction have been fairly limited, but I get the sense that most readers are grown-ups who forgive poor writing because the target audience is teenagers. I suppose my problem is that I expect everything to be good, that I rank books on a universal scale rather than one limited to genre or intent. Perhaps an approach closer to "it's OK, if you like that kind of thing" would be a better.

Nah.

Clever

Apparently all the Starbucks' in the known universe were closed for three hours yesterday. They say it was for employee training, but we all know it was to assert their supreme dominance over American life.

"We believe that this is a bold demonstration of our commitment to our core and a reaffirmation of our coffee leadership," said chief executive Howard Schultz in a statement.

Schultz was later quoted as saying "We also believe that this is a bold demonstration of how much you little fools depend on us. Comes the revolution, don't say we didn't warn you. Mwa ha. Mwa ha ha. MWA HA HA HA HAAAAA!"

ALiStY

Well, look who's back.

Also, be sure to participate.

A Dark Scottish Loch

Odd synchronicities going on recently.

Fidel Castro resigns. Ivan Castro skis.

I'm watching Blade Runner tonight. On the way home from work, I heard "More Human Than Human".

Been watching a lot of Doctor Who recently. Last night, I was referred to as "Doctor Who, here".

Maybe it's the eclipse.

Exterminate!

Ever get a line stuck in your head? As if it were a song? I've had a phrase from the attached clip running through my giant cranium all day.

The vid is from the worst episode of the otherwise excellent series Doctor Who. I recommend starting at 2:50 for context, but the line itself is at 3:17.

Without End

Chi-Mark has posted another salvo on the videogames-as-art debate, so get over there and read it.

Also, I just realized I never linked to his blog. Dick! Problem to be resolved shortly.

The WBFO project, finale

That WBFO listener commentary I recorded a few weeks ago ran this morning and has been posted online. Please address the skids of adoring fanmail to bastart@gmail.com.

Blog Post of Obfuscation

Anybody else find it strange that the next Bond movie is apparently a sci-fi Castlevania game?

The Two Great Tastes

Sarah Michelle Gellar owns the movie rights to American McGee's Alice. Today, scifi wire posted a lil' interview with her in which she describes some of the issues she has run into getting the thing airborne.

Calling the movie "the frustration of my life," Gellar joked: "I'll do it if I have to get down and write it myself one of these days. I may have to."

Dear Ms. Gellar -- call me. I live to serve.

Travelogue

Let's just say I were to be tasked by some hyper-pro-Buffalo agency to fill out a weekend in such a way that highlights the region's awesomeness. This last weekend would be pretty close. It seriously sounds like stuck-up WASPs going on about their holiday at Vail. Watch.

While waiting in line for a haircut -- there were just so many people on Elmwood -- I got a text telling me that Peter Fowler had a showing at his kepa3 gallery down on Barker. Off we jetted, meeting up with some well-mannered people who drive black cars. After politely reviewing the art, we stopped by Laughlin's for a late lunch. Cajun grouper and Sam Adams Winter Lager on tap: simply fantastic! Apparently we missed some exciting doings at Sample in the late night due to some missed messages -- another expat has decided to move back into town for the low cost-of-living and thriving arts community.

All was set for a quiet Sunday until I received an email inviting me for a coffee at Spot, as a friend had set up shop there for the day to study. Well, didn't we just have to stop by? We didn't stay for long -- there were just so many people -- and popped across the street to Globe for a reasonably priced coffee. While there, we ran into more friends and joined them on a short walk down Elmwood, stopping just long enough for Shoefly, of course. We parted ways, and Jess and I took advantage of the fine January weather to continue our walk down the well-manicured green-space of Chapin to Hoyt Lake.

A bit of rest before dinner at Mother's with a friend who stopped back from NYC for a family event. After a fine meal (for a much better price than one could find downstate), another friend caught up with us and we slid across Virginia Place to Scarlet for a pint or two in the red neon.


See? Snooty-sounding, even in our very own Buffalo. Tune in next weekend when I detail how I sit inside and watch Doctor Who.

Hello Buffalo, I'm Reading

Today found me in the WBFO studios, recording that listener commentary and fighting an irrepressible feeling that I had walked into an episode of Frasier. The actual recording of the essay, complete with re-reads of several of the sentences which seemed fine until I had to speak them aloud in a single breath (damn my love of commas!), took substantially less time than the conversation I engaged in afterwards.

When the radio guy asked me if I missed being home last week, I told him I thought the weather was too warm for skiing. He meant this whole "voting" thing the kids are so excited about these days. Apparently, simply hailing from New Hampshire makes me an authority on the excitements of primary season. Having clarified ourselves, we swapped tales of run-ins with political figures for a solid half-hour.

If you just can't get enough of me yapping all the time, tune in on January 29th.

The WBFO Project

I'm doing one of those listener commentaries on WBFO this week. Sent in the Mormon cyberpunk post before the holidays and got a positive response the other day, so I've got an appointment on Thursday afternoon to get all recordified.

I'm hoping to get some hate-mail. Someone out there who knows more about the topic than I do, all fired up over some minor detail. It's the sort of argument that lends itself to "well, sure, but you forgot about _____" responses. I'll keep you posted.

No Account

Am I alone in thinking that the shadow on Santa Claus in this Wyeth painting looks a whole hell of a lot like Oogie Boogie?

The Kingdom was Lost

Guess what I found in my tire this morning.



GIGANTIC FUCKING DEATH-SPIKE!

Chestnuts You Will Roast

The B A Start estate has been decked out in holiday fashion. Where one finds dead twigs during ordinary time, one now finds dead twigs with dead berries on them. We've got a spindly, skellington-looking tree the branches of which can barely withstand the weight of our ornaments. The presents are uniformly wrapped and stacked for maximum photo-opportunitousity. A few miniature santa hats, positively garish by comparison are relegated to the distant bedroom, far from the eyes of house-guests and mail-carriers.

And then there's Yoda Claus.

The Clipper

People keep telling me I look like Clip Smith. Like just like him.



Aside from the ugly tie, I don't really see it. And the bad hair.

Rebels Don't Always Win

On-line cataloging tool and Web 2.0 darling Library Thing recently started an Early Reviewers program, playing match-maker between publishers looking for reader reviews and book-worms looking for another fix. My friendly neighborhood mail-carrier delivered a hastily-packaged paperback to my home, which I dutifully reviewed.

The title in question is Hunting Gideon, a Mormon (self-declared) cyberpunk adventure. The publisher describes itself as releasing "provocative, unconventional, yet ultimately faith-affirming stories that yield new insights into Mormon culture and humanity". Upon reading the back cover of this book, several alert lights went off in my head, including the ones marked "Crazy Christians" and "Bad Literature".

I decided to give it a go regardless. They did send it to me gratis, after all, and a gentleman must try to live up to his end of a bargain.

The book turned out to be pretty bland, but that's not today's topic. I want to know why those alert lights went off. Why did I assume that something written with the stated goal of lionizing a particular faith would be bad? Why do we make a distinction between propagandist art and "real" art?

When's the last time you listened to a Christian rock album? Did you try that Left Behind video game? I didn't. I'm normally the first to netflix a movie about airplanes, but when I heard Behind Enemy Lines was financed by the military, I lost all interest.

And yet our classics were in large part created as proselytism if not flagrant evangelism. We consider Michelangelo an artist, not a Christian painter. Beethoven dedicated Eroica to Napoleon, and we don't call it genre music. Shakespeare's histories? At what point did we stop accepting propaganda as art?

Certainly examples exist of modern voices sneaking past our anti-establishment filters and attaining some note (Jars of Clay and Creed did well, as I remember) and pre-modern artists touting a more humanist viewpoint, but the concept of the truest art as being strictly artist-centered and institution-hating stands. At our cocktail parties and in our book reviews, around the pub table and on our blogs, any artist aligned with a mainstream political or religious group is considered inherently lesser than the more bohemian.

This prejudice in and of itself creates a type of propaganda in modern works, inculcating a belief that the only valid subject matter is the individual's experience and emotion and culling any pieces which may say otherwise out of the body of respected art and literature.

The trouble is, Christian rock actually isn't as good. The literati are right -- propagandist works in the modern age normally can't compete with the rest. But who knows? Maybe they're out there, excellent art, literature, and music which we just ignore because the artist is a Such-and-such and makes only Such-and-such stuff.

Whether or not a strictly humanist mindset actually makes a person a better artist could certainly be debated, but for now let's just say that we should not automatically assume that works made with an organization's ideals in mind are inferior by definition; we should at least give them a chance to prove it.

And This One's Wet

In lieu of having anything legitimately interesting to say, I offer you this:

The Saddle

As you remember, yesterday I said it was unlikely I would hit the nanowrimo 50,000 word goal. This remains the case.

Yet, as if response, today I received nano's weekly pep-talk email. This latest iteration was penned by Neil Gaiman. There are notably few people out there of whom I would describe myself as a "fan", and spooky Neil hovers near the top of that list.

Oh Neil. Why couldn't you just let me be? Let me accept and even enjoy missing the goal? Why must you infuse me with pep?

More like ten

Well, I suppose I better post before Garv's mom rebukes me.

Unless I have some elves-and-shoemaker-style experience, it doesn't look like I'm going to reach 50,000 words this November. Trouble is, I actually like the story too much to just punch through it.

I'm trying something new this time. I don't have any clear ideas about exactly where the narrative is headed. Last time, I had the plot all outlined like a good do-bee, and ended up with pale characters hung from a thin string of events. I'm spending much more time on character stuff this time around, so here's hoping.

In my ready room

I assume I'm not the only one who finds this disturbing.

Question is, why stop there? Why not a carbonite coffin? Have your ashes dispersed over the sands by a Maker?

Go!

Everything is funnier with seventies-style music.




There's a single synapse in my head which insists there's some pac-man glitch that allows for the kind of switcheroo the protagonist in this video pulls in the alley. That synapse, I fear, is wrong.

On The Way

"So, what was your day at work like, Alex?"

I'll tell you. It was a lot like Andy Kaufman singing the Mighty Mouse theme.

On Cloud Nine

Man attacked on Bidwell Parkway

Apparently 7:40 PM on a Sunday is no time to be walking through one of Buffalo's best-lit, most well-appointed and most frequently traveled areas. Good to know.

So, Greg gets robbed. Jess sees skeevy dude of the day. There's some hoodie-sweatshirted sexual offender running around Chapin. My brother gets robbed. Greg finds one of his windows has been tampered with. Dave gets robbed.

I've been banging the "live in the city, it's awesome" drum for a long time. Now my neighborhood has apparently become a hot-bed of violent crime and burglary. I must confess to feeling more than a little frustrated. Much of the reason I have spent so much of my life behind a desk is to be able to afford a place in a safe neighborhood. This time seems to have been wasted.

Mumble mumble

New Radiohead album. inrainbows.com. Pay whatever you want and download. Sounds like Yo La Tengo. Also sounds like awesome.

As Close As I Get

On my travels, I acquired a new watch. My grandmother gave it to me. It was my grandfather's watch.

I know this seems like the sort of thing that should tug at a young man's heartstrings, but it really wasn't any big deal. Me: "Hey, this watch still works". Grandma: "You want it?". No symbolic passing-down gestures, no wistful tales of how he wore that watch through the Korean War and countless several-alarm fires in the hamlets surrounding Burlington. None of that.

My co-workers notice the smallest changes in my wardrobe (a statement of A- how desperate these kind souls are to find something to talk with me about and B- how rarely I shop for clothes), and I am concerned someone will notice the watch. "It was my grandfather's" is sure to give the impression that I have ponderous and beautiful feelings regarding this watch, and when it turns out I don't have them, the legend of my jerkitude will simply expand to include this new anecdote.

Yet, every time I wind it and hear its ticking, I think about my grandfather listening to the exact same thing.

Here we No again

Quick note: for those of you interested in cranking out a 50,000 word bit of prose in a single month, Nanowrimo sign-ups have begun.

Judge that way after all

Yes, I know that the following statement further confirms me as a weirdo.

One of the bonuses of having internet access while on vacation is the ability to update your Librarything account with your latest purchases.

It's true, though. It's like a travel diary. "Ah, yes. Durham, North Carolina. I bought that Verne collection there."

Speaking of travelogues, Penguin's Great Journeys series caught my eye, but mainly because the covers are cool.

IFComp Walkthrough

This game has multiple endings.  In order to get the blessed ending, be sure to make the following choices:

• Accept the offer, and learn from them. "I am honored to join you."
  
•  Keep at it. This mission must be completed.

Weirdo.

The idiosyncrasies have started to take over.

I've become something of an oddball at work. An insistence on aligning my pens with each other. An incapacity to endure a buzzing sound. Pulling up socks in the middle of conversations.

These sorts of things combined with my insistent reserve make for an eccentric fellow about whom no one knows anything. The quirks replace character and personality, indeed become them in the eyes of many.

I have to confess, it's kinda fun.

Yahar...

As the autumnal breezes blow, my mind has turned near fully to the open seas. I have nearly reached the final page of Master and Commander, despite being utterly lost in the jargon much of the time. Been playing Puzzle Pirates, of all things -- but only because I couldn't get my hands on a copy of Sid Meier's Pirates Exclamation Point. (I must confess, though, it is fun.)

Just got back from New Orleans, and while there found myself growing awfully naval. On a self-made bookstore tour of the French Quarter, I picked up the dramatically-named and hideously-covered Men, Ships, and the Sea for some steamjournally research. Also bought a few old prints of (what else?) Boston Harbor circa 1800.

After a few days I even began to look like a seaman. My skin burned, my stubble grew. I wore my shirt far more open than is my normal Northeastern habit, and pale drawstring shorts which may just as well have been made of sailcloth. I even went barefoot at times, heels scraping on the sun-bleached deck.

This is all well and good, as International Talk Like a Pirate Day grows large on the horizon, large as a great Spanish brigantine heavy with booty and ripe for the takin', me hearties.

Bloggeur

Been plugging my way through the recommended readings in the Harvard Classics. Yesterday's fifteen minutes was a bit o' Voltaire. The man, it seems, was a blogger.

Tongue-in-cheek sarcastic humor? Check.
Disdain for some or all establishments and authorities? Check.
Penchant for short rants? Check.

It Is Absolute

Obsessive B A Starters may remember I wrote an article for the Buffalo Spree holiday guide stating that the strip of Delaware Ave from Target to Kenmore Ave is the city's video game corridor. Gamecrazy, EB Games, Gamespot all within walking distance -- add in Target and Blockbuster, and it's the major industry for the block.

Yesterday, driving back from the heinous suburbs, I passed a new game store on Delaware a block up from Kenmore. Oogie Games, LLC -- or at least that's what the tarpaulin/sign says. I can only assume the owner read the article and decided to jump on the wagon before it gets too crowded in Buffalo's Akihabara.

Don't Read This

Lot of action on the "Alex hates the chosen one" post, much of which consists of Gary reminding me that I should have put SPOILER WARNING in it somewhere. Sorry dude. Trust me -- knowing that the parents in Heroes are manipulating things doesn't ruin a thing. There are only three good things about Heroes: Superpowers, superpowers, and superpowers. And I ain't talking the USSR.

Comments

I can always trust Gary to come through when needed. 3 comments in a single day! Here, here, and here.

That Guy

Those of you who have been keeping tabs on my dream library (Todd) will be happy to know a set of 1909-10 Harvard Classics arrived today.

My feelings, like a prep school dance, are mixed. The HC are truly meant for poser intellectuals, which of course I am, but regardless I love them. I could be pressed to say I lurv them, if provided enough alcohol.

Today's fifteen minutes consisted of half a chapter of the Confessions of St. Augustine. zzzz. Here's hoping Two Years Before the Mast grabs the attention a tad more. I will, as always, keep you posted.

Who does this choosing, exactly?

When writing fiction about impossible things in my own hackish way, I find myself pulled in by the gravity of the Chosen One. I'm sick of him. He was born with the power and just needs to find it. Merlin shows up to tell him who he is, and after that no one can stand against him. He's Potter, he's Neo, she's the P sisters from Charmed, and we've seen it rehashed more times than I care to stomach.

Why does Luke get to be the super-Jedi? Why does chosenness have to pass from father to son? The message "if you ain't born with it, you can't get it" just doesn't fly with me.

Trouble is, it's so easy. You build a world with supernatural qualities, and why does your main character get to be the one to use them? Because of his parents, that's why. So, for some time now I have tried to write stories where a non-superhuman obtains superhuman powers through practice and tenacity, in which anyone can be a wizard, not just people from the right gene pool.

Then I come across this article by super-genius Jane Espenson, in which she explain how to sell sci-fi.

It's a very specific type of Hero's Journey, the most potent sub-case. It's told over and over again, and it works, over and over again. Dorothy Gale, Buffy Summers, Harry Potter, Charlie Bucket, Luke Skywalker, even Peter Parker, they all fit a very specific pattern. They're living a life, sometimes a fine one, often a troubled one, but certainly one governed by ordinary rules, when suddenly the curtain is pulled back and a whole new world, or a new set of rules of this world, is revealed. And what's more - and this is the important part - in that new world, they are something special. They are The Chosen One.

And if that wasn't enough...

So here's what I think we need to do if we want to write a sci-fi or a fantasy show and give it appeal way beyond the normal boundaries of sci-fi/fantasy fandom. We need to start with an empty page of notebook paper, write "The Chosen One" across the top and start brainstorming. At least, that's what I plan to do.

Damn it, Jane! So, I need to do the precise and stated opposite of what I have been?

Thing is, I don't agree. Starbuck being Miss Prophesy is lame. In Heroes, all of the characters' parents know each other and have been manipulating them the entire time -- also lame. As soon as a show starts down the "it is your destiny" path, I lose interest. The predictability destroys the enjoyment; no matter how much a Chosen character rails against their certain fate, they always succumb* because superpowers are bad-assed. "Just be yourself" is a lot easier when your self can fly.

So, Jane, you know I love you, but on this we disagree. Give me Wedge and Xander over another mewling "why must my life be so hard, what with all of my awesome powers and all" puss. I'm sure to be Chosen is to live alone and there's some sort of proportional relationship between great power and great responsibility, but a person who chooses himself would be a welcome change.



(With the exception of Luke. It was his destiny to kill Vader. It was his destiny to join Vader. He did neither.)

The Trail of the Dead

Wandering the webs, I came across the New York Foundation for the Arts site, including info on artists' fellowships. A quick perusal of the app reveals what they want from you:

"A representation of your recent artistic work within the last 5 years."

This represents a large corpus of work for, let's say, Jess, but for me? Let's see...

• Several drafts of the Magnum Space Opus, the most recent of which being written mainly in a single month.
• A play written under similar restraints.
• One piece of flash fiction, sent to Artvoice and rejected.
• One sci-fi short story, sent to a few magazines and rejected.
• A version of Jorinda and Joringel.
• Another short story submitted to a contest. No prize awarded.
  
• Another few remarkably horrible short stories.

None of this has been published, of course. I have yet to develop the discipline to really edit stuff (spell-check is enough, right?) and there's always another ephemeral concept waiting in the wings, begging for my attention. The next project, that will be the one I really throw myself into.

Tunes

His Garveyness recently asked me to let him know what new tunes I was listening to. I think he thought he was talking to Jess. Either way, here a rhaplink for you, the contents of which are the tracks of my recent brain soundtrack. Except If You Leave Me Now by Chicago. I just couldn't.

Queue?

Not entirely sure why Netflix would recommend Unprecedented: The 2000 Presidential Election based entirely on my 5-star rating of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. The pro-environmental message? The negative depiction of invading forces? Does something fly in it?

.....

Usage question. The store "Sofas etc...".

Should it be "Sofas etc....", with a period for the et cetera abbreviation followed by an ellipsis?

Perhaps "Sofas etc.....", with the above and then the period which ends the phrase?

I'll ask my buddies Strunk and White, but I doubt they would deign to discuss it.

Gary?

And yet another.

And now at long last I post the link to Eric's blog, The Humanist. He's twisting my melon, man.

Appointed Rounds

The Postal Service and I have not been getting along so well as of late. Not the band The Postal Service, with which I have maintained a quietly devoted friendship, but rather the United Stated Postal Service. Apparently flying like an eagle involves either withholding or completely losing packages. Not only did my horribly pretentious copy of the Idylls of the King travel a long and tortuous route to my doorstep (causing much fear and dismay in the mind of the Ebay seller), but the USPS managed to completely misplace a Netflix return, calling into question my integrity as a subscriber. Perhaps the postal gods feel slighted because I have yet to use those Star Wars stamps.

Dustjacket

Books on the brain recently.

Here's a link from lifehacker with some booky ideas.

I went in to Borders this weekend on the hunt for an edda. I forgot it was Harry Potter Day. Yosh.

Tagged most of my books in Library Thing yesterday. Apparently my tastes in books have not changed since I was twelve, a discovery I find neither surprising nor displeasing.

Click

Anyone else notice that Debo posted a picture of me? And you thought he only snapped photos of party people.

Speaking of pictures, I was part of another great wedding this weekend. I'm always a little nervous about the pictures, though. Every time, I end up looking like I would rather be anywhere else than with the happy couple. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong -- I smile and think happy thoughts, but it doesn't seem to work. Quite embarrassing, really.

It's over!

Finished the play. Fairly satisfied with it. So now what?

Peeve

Attended the Buffalo Book Fair yesterday, and swung by the library for the first time in a decade or so. The fair is certainly worth a stop-in, so keep your eyes open next year.

Any library gives me a feeling of coming home, of course. The decor in my apartment is a testament to that. The Buffalo library, while awesome, did manage to piss me off. There's a "Mark Twain Room" in there, outside of which is a recently posted sign reading "Iconic Mark Twain". Grr....

My hatred of the "i" word knows no bounds.

Emerge from Nothing

June has ended, and the play is decidedly less than 20,000 words long. I'm about 1/3 of the way through the third and final act, and the final product will not hit the word count. No big.

As this is my first salvo into comedy, I have found myself in an new situation: asking myself "is this funny?". The answer is usually "if somebody funny said it...". A new vertex is added to the normal author-piece-audience triangle, that being the actor. Weird.

Goldem

Looking for some good old timey illustration (movie posters, book covers, et cetera)? Enjoy.

Grinding

Avid B A Starters will remember the Final Reality post, in which we discussed using experience points to track one's progress in real-life goals. Here's the idea in webcomic form:

Again I say "shame".

Took a wee break from Scripto today and found myself ingesting a few new savories

I read a sample chapter of Vampirates: Demons of the Ocean. Wow. Now that's just bad. Here's a taste:

The storm seemed to come out of nowhere. It came at Grace and Connor just when they were at their most vulnerable, out beyond the harbour in the open ocean.
It didn’t give them a chance.
The sky changed colour so fast, it was as if someone had ripped away a sheet of blue wallpaper to reveal a gaping black hole.

The Magnum Space Opus doesn't seem so awful now, does it?

Also watched Pi. I have four things to say. Awesome, awesome, and also awesome. The fourth is as follows: shame on you Wachowski brothers. I knew The Matrix was stolen, but I didn't realize it was that stolen. The blinking command-line prompt? Scrolling numbers? Multiple monitors and loads of hanging cables? A man standing in complete whiteness? Sentient computers? A Massive Attack song? A subway showdown scene? Shame.

Update

7 days into June and I'm through Act I. Of a three act play. That's 4000 words out of 20K. Time to make with the padding....