|
the inestimable t!, 27th Baron Oxblood
|
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2007|01:59 am] |
The Healer leaned heavily on his walking stick and surveyed his handiwork. Eight on one side seemed aggressively unbalanced, so he transferred three to the other side of the door. Better balance, but without perfect symmetry. Satisfied, he entered the house.
It was not his usual house, with the silent man behind the counter. The Healer was uncomfortable returning to that place in his current state. His wife had given him directions to this place instead, as she had visited on more than one occasion and knew it would suit him. She understood him better than all others. She was most perceptive, and he revealed more of himself to her - there was no beginning to that circle.
Behind the counter in this place was a woman almost out of the childbearing years, a roll of flesh in her midsection roughly bisected by her apron string such that it bulged over and under, redness under her nose from rubbing, a pimple on her forehead from perspiration. Her hair was sensibly pulled away from her dry and cracked working hands by a kerchief, its once vivid colours dulled by sweat and grease. In stringy patches some of her hair had escaped captivity, and leaving aside the odd gray fleck the Healer presumed it would be called mousy brown, by those who supposed they knew more about mice than he did.
She was beautiful.
The only other person in the house was the Mage, of course, smiling his welcome to the Healer over a bottle of beer. The Healer returned the smile and walked slowly over, as his Brother greeted him:
"You made it."
"After a fashion."
The Mage made a gesture toward a wall calendar behind the counter. "And just in time."
"After a fashion." The Healer stopped walking and inhaled deeply, supporting himself on his staff.
The Mage nodded toward it. "Just one?" he asked with his sly, warm smile. "Can I read something in that?"
"I dropped one along the way."
"Of course."
"The others are outside."
"They'll be there for you when you need them."
"Assuming I remember how."
"You will."
"Optimism? From you?"
The Mage's smile grew warmer, more sly. "Hope." And he took another pull at his beer, his eyes ever on the Healer.
"What are you drinking?"
"Pragmatism."
"Ugh."
"Would you prefer Realism?"
"Hey - do I call *you* an asshole?"
The Mage chuckled. "It may not be our first choice, but it dulls the pain, just enough. Never so much that it dulls the senses."
The Mage looked at his drink as he polished it off, for which the Healer was grateful. It was the least unpleasant of the directions the Mage could have been looking after that statement. In particular, the Healer was glad the Mage had not looked directly at him, or worse, deliberately away. The Healer did not much like people looking him, at the ravages of his body, the way he had tried to hide from the pain with poisons that dulled his senses and ruined his physical self, while only making it possible for the pain to come back even stronger.
He held two fingers up to the hostess.
"Are you going to sit down?" the Mage asked him.
"As long as I'm here." He took the load off his legs. It was uncomfortable, but better than standing.
The opened bottles arrived. The Healer waved the proffered glass away with the best smile he could manage.
"What shall we drink to?"
The Healer held his bottle aloft. "To the Humanists."
"Just so."
And as their bottles clinked, they said, together, "There's damn few of us left!"
They drank at the same time, the Mage watching the Healer all the while. He took the time to experience his first taste, whereas the Mage was already over-familiar, and didn't need to.
The Healer shrugged. "I guess it's not as bad as I'd feared."
The Mage nodded once, slowly, and when his head came up his face had shifted slightly. It was his Song face. The Healer was fairly certain his was the same song.
"It's better than being alone." |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 30th, 2007|12:57 am] |
I always flirt with death
I look cool but I don't care about it
Six.
I am The Exclamation, the inestimable t!, a phenomenon, and a Legend. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2007|12:10 pm] |
There is a God.
And his Wörd is Rock. |
|
|
| Time to feel old again |
[Nov. 27th, 2007|11:41 pm] |
This summer, while I wasn't paying attention
Appetite For Destruction
turned 20 years old.
"Oh, my... God... " |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 27th, 2007|05:07 pm] |
We were discussing a political cartoon, and had differing views. She said, "You didn't see the same one I did."
And she's right.
I am prepared to say literally.
Sex was (broadly) the issue of the cartoon. I am a boy; she is a girl. Between us, we have over 60 years of conditioning and baggage about this societally-loaded and too-often divisive topic.
She saw things I could not perceive. My perspective on things was not hers.
It was the same image, but we did not see the same cartoon. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 20th, 2007|12:09 pm] |
Hey, cool!
You can get Blood without the Rhetoric and Love! |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 19th, 2007|05:14 pm] |
You get nothin' for nothin', expect it when
You're back seat drivin' and your hands ain't on the wheel
...
It's easy to go along with the crowd
And find later on that your say ain't allowed
Oh that's the way to find what you've been missin'
Today's card
The choice it is yours to do as you might
...
If you get it wrong, at least you can know
There's miles and miles to put it back together
Is the Chariot
Oh everybody breaks down sooner or later
Well put it to rights, well square up and mend
...
You weather every storm that's comin atcha
Brought to you by Judas Priest
And I'm heading out to the highway
I got nothin' to lose at all
I'm goin' to do it my way
Take a chance before I fall
A chance before I fall
Vroom, vroom. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 16th, 2007|01:22 pm] |
My job:
I get to write, on a bug report
"I have now created singular and plural pizza-specific slice units." |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 16th, 2007|08:43 am] |
I've been thinking about Tarot a lot lately.
Specifically, working with one of my decks again.
And so a few days ago I took the Halloween out. I haven't opened it, but it's in plain view.
And then this morning I thought I might use the Thoth instead.
And then I didn't know which one to go with.
...
It seems the cards can point out what's wrong with you even when they're giggling at you from their pouches. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 15th, 2007|05:13 pm] |
INCOMPATIBILITY WARNING:
This Version of Writer 2.0 does not support Editorial Chowderhead 5.0.
To execute the Editorial Chowderhead command, either install Writer 1.0 or apply the Burnout patch to Writer 2.0.
The command can be brute forced, but this is not recommended. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2007|03:20 pm] |
Okay.
I have a narrow definition of the term "atheist."
Because the word "agnostic" exists.
Agnostic = atheist + doubt
In the moment you accept even the possibility of the spiritual, supernatural, GodSatanEasterBunny, &c &c, you perforce accept the possibility of the non-Empirical, thus satisfying the condition for "doubt," tossing you out of atheism and into agnosticism.
Until the term "ignostic" becomes widely adopted, that is.
(And before the term "ignostic" gets misused to the point it loses any definition.)
Given the context presented above, it becomes clear that by these definitions "absence of doubt" equates to "closed-mindedness" and therefore cannot apply to anybody with whom I choose to spend time, because you are all sentient. And the earlier use of the terms "deficiency of imagination" and "existentially smug" (you *know* there's nothing else out there - really?) will hopefully be recognised as appropriate.
On the other hand...
You may reject this definition of agnosticism, and therefore also atheism. Neither of us will sway the other (see "loss of definition," above). Should you choose to call yourself an atheist, be advised that although I disagree with your syntax I respect self-identification and will honour that. Also I ask that you understand that when I'm slagging the atheists it sure ain't you I'm talking about. |
|
|
| ALL THINGS ZOMBI |
[Nov. 10th, 2007|02:25 pm] |
For those of you nostalgic for those cheapie horror flicks we used to rent when we were 12 and our parents weren't home and VCR remotes had cords, PLANET TERROR is just about a must-see. That first half hour captures our old school brilliantly. And subtly. In about every possible way. The rest of the movie is good, too - and Tom Savini's death (oh, like that's ever a spoiler!) is exactly what a man of his stature deserves.
To any and all who take issue that Resident Evil 5's bad guys are African: Shut up. A lot. For a very, very long time. There is a crucial piece of information you have overlooked: Zombies are Black. Yes. They always have been. In fact, this was once so widely-known that if your movie was going to feature a White zombie instead, this was considered significant enough to make it the title of the movie!
I introduced the Wife to NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD last night (thanks, MLG). The varied uses of monologue to create tension in that film are worthy of study in University Creative Writing classes. A few things that I noticed: 1) the first ghoul (I will not call them the z-word, since GR didn't) seems to be stronger and faster than any others in the Romero canon, at least initially; 2) tool use! I had completely forgotten that; 3) Ben is wrong about fire being what they are afraid of (and he seems to have fooled an entire generation, which is their own damn fault) - it's the light. The first thing they did when they got to the farmhouse was destroy the truck's headlamps, and with trepidation.
Which brings us to LAND OF THE DEAD, a great title which may refer to several themes in the movie. I was put off at first by the sentient ghoul, but it is a logical extension of everything that has been built over the course of this series. And one thing you feel when you watch a Romero picture: This is the Real Thing. The man's head has been in this universe for forty years; he has given it more thought than anybody else. What an outbreak of living dead means, and how it feels. Nobody else comes close to that. Although this particular movie falls just short of being a classic, it is a distinct improvement over the third (since the characters have more to do that just yell at each other), and likely the best (non-comedic) film in this genre that will be made this decade.
Possibly THE ZOMBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE's biggest drawback is that it does its job too well. The writing is dry and there's not much in the way of attraction to make you want to keep reading, so the tone is near perfect. Once in a while there's a comment about how useless and weak (Western) human society has become, always correct, but sometimes slightly out of sync with the tone. Brooks loses points with me personally for insisting that Vodoun zombis are not "real" zombies, but I guess a spiritual origin didn't really fit the pragmatic bent of his book, which has chosen therefore to pin the outbreak on a virus with a silly name. One would have hoped for better editing in a how-to book; he contradicts himself occasionally, once within the space of four pages. Overall, though, it's an interesting experiment in non-dramatic zombi writing, not a great read, but a good read. If you want to stimulate ideas for your own end-of-the-world writing, it's highly recommended. And if you're running an undead RPG, Gurps Undead is ruined by all that pointless Illuminati wankery that Jackson inexplicably prides himself on, but this book is a must.
And finally, ZOMBIE FLUXX. I've played it only twice so far, but I am ready to say it is better than the original, even if you are indifferent to zombis. This is not an expansion, but a stand-alone game, with Zombie/Creeper cards and rules that add gameplay and interactivity, two areas which in the original Fluxx are sometimes lacking and just about missing, respectively. Fun, interesting, and easy to play. Plus, if you're not indifferent to zombis, well, one of the New Rules obliges players to groan when they put a Creeper into play - what more could you want? |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 10th, 2007|09:48 am] |
Athiest, definition:
Somebody with a deficiency of imagination, who has chosen to be existentially smug about it. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 8th, 2007|12:42 pm] |
Quote of the day:
Please consider changing the name of this site to NaNoSloMo.
(off to do the TINMProblem dance) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 30th, 2007|06:53 pm] |
I don't think I ever need to see another Michael Moore documentary, but this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8m2hS7sN2mM
THIS I want to see.
(You would think a man Jack Thompson's age would know what the word "literally" means, and then use it correctly at least one out of two times. But no.) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 28th, 2007|10:13 am] |
ROME
There has been much discussion of this show, but one key element seems to have been overlooked. I will now rectify this.
If a show is never going to miss any pretext to show female frontal nudity, even to the point of creating entire scenes for that sole purpose, and this is "justified" by the mores of the historical period in which the show is set...
can we please
please
for the love of Jupiter...
have the tits be REAL? "The senator is grinning evilly, the slave is shaking her robe off her shoulders, and what the heck are those?" There might as well be a blinking and whirring laptop on the desk; these phoney human enhancements stick out like... well, like a pair of fake tits.
And with that out of the way, let me say that as a discerning viewer, Rome fascinated me. This rarely happens, even when I love a show I am not often fascinated, but with Rome it happened for two reasons.
The first is this: Rome is the only show I have ever watched that transported me directly to the boardroom where the show was pitched:
"Deadwood is doing well."
"Yeah?"
"Well, this is like Deadwood - only older!"
"Ooh... "
"And bloodier!"
"Will there be more tits, too?"
"It's Rome - of course there will be more tits! Everywhere!"
"Good, that's good. Everybody knows more is better. How about the swearing? Deadwood had swearing."
"Well, there won't be as much swearing, but we'll be able to have curses with an entire pantheon!"
"Sold! This is going to be great!"
Clear as day, I could see it. Fascinating.
And the second thing that fascinated me was this: In spite of terrible soap operatic plotlines that would have embarassed Falcon Crest, moved forward by dialogue that is only better than mechanical in one scene and one other line over an entire season, neither of which I remember, which tells you something - in spite of Rome being shit, I was compelled to devour the entire first season!
Why?
How could this be possible? I have respect for my time. And yet a part of me felt I *had* to spend that time watching Rome. Fascinating.
I eventually figured out it was the cast. A perfect cast. Not only because they were (mostly) able to make you forget the dialogue was useless, but principally because they were so charismatic. I wanted to watch them more, more, more, even though I didn't really enjoy it.
I never expect to come across a cast as compelling as that again. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 28th, 2007|09:25 am] |
With a bit of effort, Mystic River will go down as the movie where I finally learned my lesson.*
It came highly-recommended from many quarters, as you may recall from all the surrounding hubbub. A mystery, a tragedy, basically the definition of Oscar bait. Good pedigree.
Overall, though, Mystic River is humdrum.
It has a few things going for it, in particular the acting, in particular Tim Robbins. But even then, in at least three scenes the acting is damaged by the direction. We do not need a superimposed flashback to know what the actor is thinking about - he's been acting it! (Many reviewers praised this movie's intelligence. These moments give the lie to that evaluation.)
The score is a four-note motif that gets played without variation whenever there's a music cue. It never says anything to begin with; by the end it says "We just wanted music here."
The story is a cross between Sleepers and Summer of Sam, set in a small community. Sleepers, by the way, also had Kevin Bacon, and it was also about the effects on adulthood of childhood molestation. Does the rape of a boy automatically make a movie good, or something? Because Sleepers was also very well-acted, but in all other respects overpraised, and with nothing much in it that was either interesting or thought-provoking.
As a mystery, Mystic River falls somewhere between a 4 and a 6. Unsatisfying resolution, 50% of crime scene details basically the result of misadventure, and it's not terribly compelling on the way there anyway. (And it woulda been nice to have a character moment for Wife #2 that came sometime *before* the endless denouement, y'know?)
To be fair, it's the emotional story that is more important, here. If that had worked, the movie would have worked, but it didn't. The whole film is a buildup to the Big Scene, and this scene was done way better on The Shield. Way, way better. And the very last moment of the scene is a bungle, shot at the wrong angle and stylised in a way that works against the rest of the film, leaving the Big Scene with no lasting impact - a considerable problem when said scene is the raison d'etre of the movie.
There are good things about it, absolutely, but the overall film is merely... okay.
*The lesson being that the prevailing standards of Greatness among moviemakers and reviewers are in reality merely a hair above Good, call it Good Plus One Thing - well below actual Greatness, well below what I know is possible. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 23rd, 2007|12:19 pm] |
At the office...
- I bring milk in cartons, to eliminate waste from those tiny plastic packets. Also, the milk is better across the board.
- I have a potholder, used to carry lunches from the microwave to my desk, so I don't have to use paper towels as insulate.
- A hand towel, taken with me to the bathroom, to eliminate wasting paper when I dry my hands.
- Metal eating utensils.
- A small jar to carry my used teabags home for composting.
- For my tea, a container of sugar, to avoid wasting paper through those individual packets. The sugar, of course, is organic and fairly-traded.
More people should be like me. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
baronscartop's journal