I need to update this.
I'll think about doing that soon.
Even though I'm at work right now, not really doing anything worthwhile.
Writing's funny that way: even when you have nothing better to do it's still hard to sit down and write.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Awake and The Alert
Puma stared on with the hungry eyes of one who sees far into the distance but never journeys to the line of sight's end.
She edged forward with a quick snap of twigs, alerting the owls of her presence. The game was up. Surely she would be caught. It was past the time when the night light is extinguished and before the time when the orange fruit breaks over the peaks. Unacceptable for any being to be in the land of the awake and the alert, but all creatures had their reasons for such the hour. Puma edged forward while keeping her lithe body low to the ground to avoid being recognized.
The keen eye of the observer watched the prey move beyond the distant brush - a fire in the early morning calm. Heat rising up off of them, so obviously it pained her to have not previously suspected a truce. This would change the way of the valley, though the mount still belonged to Puma for the moment. She would have to devise a new strategy, one that required no type of plan at all.
Puma watched as the double prey moved out beyond the stretch of clover, under the deceivingly short light of cream, all the while unaware that Bear watched from the opposite mount with no plan but a paw filled with the rage of the far-away.
She edged forward with a quick snap of twigs, alerting the owls of her presence. The game was up. Surely she would be caught. It was past the time when the night light is extinguished and before the time when the orange fruit breaks over the peaks. Unacceptable for any being to be in the land of the awake and the alert, but all creatures had their reasons for such the hour. Puma edged forward while keeping her lithe body low to the ground to avoid being recognized.
The keen eye of the observer watched the prey move beyond the distant brush - a fire in the early morning calm. Heat rising up off of them, so obviously it pained her to have not previously suspected a truce. This would change the way of the valley, though the mount still belonged to Puma for the moment. She would have to devise a new strategy, one that required no type of plan at all.
Puma watched as the double prey moved out beyond the stretch of clover, under the deceivingly short light of cream, all the while unaware that Bear watched from the opposite mount with no plan but a paw filled with the rage of the far-away.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Writer's Musical Relation Theory
Do you write? Do you listen to music? Please follow this guide...
WHEN WRITING: listen to
COMEDY: rap, pop
SCI-FI/FANTASY: heavy/symphonic metal, film scores
ACTION: punk, classic rock, also heavy metal
DRAMA: folk, soft rock, classical
ROMANCE: nothing but classical
MYSTERY: jazz, big band
HORROR: either nothing, or ambient
MUSIC: nothing, you will just end up copying
Please let me know if this improves your writing, even by the slightest bit.
Also, add anything I have forgotten or that you may disagree with.
WHEN WRITING: listen to
COMEDY: rap, pop
SCI-FI/FANTASY: heavy/symphonic metal, film scores
ACTION: punk, classic rock, also heavy metal
DRAMA: folk, soft rock, classical
ROMANCE: nothing but classical
MYSTERY: jazz, big band
HORROR: either nothing, or ambient
MUSIC: nothing, you will just end up copying
Please let me know if this improves your writing, even by the slightest bit.
Also, add anything I have forgotten or that you may disagree with.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Cut and Run
A park bench, a city, a nice day. An old man and a young man.
1: Excuse me, sir, but I could swear that I just overheard you use the phrase: "cut and run".
2: Uh...yeah?
1: Well, I was just wondering what exactly you meant by those words?
2: It's an expression.
1: An expression?
2: Yeah...something people say. You know, to make big ideas...um, smaller?
1: I do not know of this practice. Do continue.
2: Nah, it's cool, buddy. I'm just gonna go sit somewhere else.
1: Oh, but I truly must know. I am deeply interested. If you could but spare one more precious moment I would be forever grateful.
2:.....
1: I could pay you five dollars?
2: Alright then.
1: Oh joy! Now, "cut and run." Please explain how you meant it.
2: Listen, man. It means, like...get out of here? I guess. I don't know. Like, stop what you're doin' and just leave? I'm bad at explaining things.
1: So it is about the running?
2: What?
1: Well, you are saying that the phrase, by nature, places more emphasis on the "run" than the "cut", am I correct?
2: Yeah. I'll say yeah. It's just a phrase.
1: But a very labyrinthian one. A maze of twists and turns in those words.
2: It's just three words, man.
1: Regardless: a maze. Now, if one were to just say, "run" instead of "cut and run", would it make a difference?
2: I don't know. Depends.
1: On what, exactly? Please be specific.
2: Dude...I don't even know what you're talking about anymore.
1: Is running the same thing as cutting and running? It really is quite simple. Would you feel comfortable boiling the phrase down to its bare essentials and leaving out the first half?
2: Why were you listening to my conversation in the first place?
1: Truly, do these simple words that we say matter? Does it matter if I leave one word out? Put one word in?
2: Hah. Like the Hokey Pokey.
1: I am not familiar.
2: Whatever, man. Why do you care so much about this?
1: Well, you see, it deeply upset me when I heard you use the phrase "cut and run" and I am trying to ascertain how I could ever use such a phrase and not become deeply upset to the point of wanting to induce vomiting.
2: Uh...huh.
1: My son looked a lot like you...he had the same curled locks...
2: Don't touch my hair, man.
1: Apologies, apologies. But my son, he used to have a problem with pain. He was a deeply troubled boy who would bottle up all of his feelings until he could no longer handle the pure raw energy of emotion. Thus, he needed to find a way to let these emotions out...by any means possible. That is when he discovered my knife collection.
2:.......
1: So he played with the knifes. Cutting himself here and there, a violent and masochistic act to release the pain from his tortured soul.
2: Jesus...how old was he?
1: Six. Yes, I took him to many counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, even a veterinarian. But, alas, it was of no use. Eventually his pee-wee football coach got through to him and he began to use running as a way of escaping his pain. He would run night and day, so hard he would sometimes pass out in the middle of a sprint. He lost thirty-seven pounds in one week.
2: I think my phone is gonna ring soon...I should go...
1: It was at this same time that my dear wife, Abby, decided to leave me. Yes, I was sleeping around with at least ten other women, all of them my students, but was this really the time for her to just leave? Bah. Anyway, my son was devastated. For his seventh birthday I bought him the biggest chocolate cake (for, you see, he absolutely adored chocolate cake) that could possibly be delivered and consumed. Of course, the cake had to be cut. And so it was: I sang my son "Happy Birthday", blew out the candles for him since he did not have the lung capacity to do such a thing, and cut him the biggest slice of cake he had ever seen. He ate his cake in silence. Then, without warning, he grabbed the cake knife and disappeared into the night. The police found him later that evening at the town recreation field: just running circles on the track, cutting away. Cutting and running.
2: Can I have my five dollars?
1: Excuse me, sir, but I could swear that I just overheard you use the phrase: "cut and run".
2: Uh...yeah?
1: Well, I was just wondering what exactly you meant by those words?
2: It's an expression.
1: An expression?
2: Yeah...something people say. You know, to make big ideas...um, smaller?
1: I do not know of this practice. Do continue.
2: Nah, it's cool, buddy. I'm just gonna go sit somewhere else.
1: Oh, but I truly must know. I am deeply interested. If you could but spare one more precious moment I would be forever grateful.
2:.....
1: I could pay you five dollars?
2: Alright then.
1: Oh joy! Now, "cut and run." Please explain how you meant it.
2: Listen, man. It means, like...get out of here? I guess. I don't know. Like, stop what you're doin' and just leave? I'm bad at explaining things.
1: So it is about the running?
2: What?
1: Well, you are saying that the phrase, by nature, places more emphasis on the "run" than the "cut", am I correct?
2: Yeah. I'll say yeah. It's just a phrase.
1: But a very labyrinthian one. A maze of twists and turns in those words.
2: It's just three words, man.
1: Regardless: a maze. Now, if one were to just say, "run" instead of "cut and run", would it make a difference?
2: I don't know. Depends.
1: On what, exactly? Please be specific.
2: Dude...I don't even know what you're talking about anymore.
1: Is running the same thing as cutting and running? It really is quite simple. Would you feel comfortable boiling the phrase down to its bare essentials and leaving out the first half?
2: Why were you listening to my conversation in the first place?
1: Truly, do these simple words that we say matter? Does it matter if I leave one word out? Put one word in?
2: Hah. Like the Hokey Pokey.
1: I am not familiar.
2: Whatever, man. Why do you care so much about this?
1: Well, you see, it deeply upset me when I heard you use the phrase "cut and run" and I am trying to ascertain how I could ever use such a phrase and not become deeply upset to the point of wanting to induce vomiting.
2: Uh...huh.
1: My son looked a lot like you...he had the same curled locks...
2: Don't touch my hair, man.
1: Apologies, apologies. But my son, he used to have a problem with pain. He was a deeply troubled boy who would bottle up all of his feelings until he could no longer handle the pure raw energy of emotion. Thus, he needed to find a way to let these emotions out...by any means possible. That is when he discovered my knife collection.
2:.......
1: So he played with the knifes. Cutting himself here and there, a violent and masochistic act to release the pain from his tortured soul.
2: Jesus...how old was he?
1: Six. Yes, I took him to many counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, even a veterinarian. But, alas, it was of no use. Eventually his pee-wee football coach got through to him and he began to use running as a way of escaping his pain. He would run night and day, so hard he would sometimes pass out in the middle of a sprint. He lost thirty-seven pounds in one week.
2: I think my phone is gonna ring soon...I should go...
1: It was at this same time that my dear wife, Abby, decided to leave me. Yes, I was sleeping around with at least ten other women, all of them my students, but was this really the time for her to just leave? Bah. Anyway, my son was devastated. For his seventh birthday I bought him the biggest chocolate cake (for, you see, he absolutely adored chocolate cake) that could possibly be delivered and consumed. Of course, the cake had to be cut. And so it was: I sang my son "Happy Birthday", blew out the candles for him since he did not have the lung capacity to do such a thing, and cut him the biggest slice of cake he had ever seen. He ate his cake in silence. Then, without warning, he grabbed the cake knife and disappeared into the night. The police found him later that evening at the town recreation field: just running circles on the track, cutting away. Cutting and running.
2: Can I have my five dollars?
Friday, April 17, 2009
Interjection #2
Dear The Beatles: there are only 7 days in the week. You have made a mathematical error.
Interjection
Sending out resumes via fax feels a little like sliding fish into a paper shredder: a messy job that yields absolutely no satisfaction, and in the end you still smell like fish.
That's not the best analogy. But this is no fun. Can I just go work at a taco stand now?
I don't think I know how to make tacos.
That's not the best analogy. But this is no fun. Can I just go work at a taco stand now?
I don't think I know how to make tacos.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Shared narrative
Inspired by a round of questions asked over a lovely Easter brunch with my new Los Angeles crew and this:
-----------------
Have a moment. It's really that simple, just have a moment.
Everyone does this every day without thinking. If you are anything like a human, you probably have some pretty special moments now and then. If you don't know what I'm talking about at all, I am very sorry and I sincerely hope World of Warcraft is going well for you.
During a special moment, there are a lot of things to consider and take in:
- what you are doing
- why you are doing whatever it is you are doing
- how you feel about it
- what you're thinking at the time
- etc.
That's a really short list, by the way. There's probably fifty things that can be experienced while having a moment (all of which I feel are sufficiently represented by "etc."). The experience of the moment itself is what life is all about. Without special moments life really isn't worth living.
All of these moments, these small gems of humanity's essence (I have created a zen cologne), are what make up who you are. They make up your life story. The narrative of each individual life is built up of plot points, these special moments. Good or bad, moments are what set up everything to come and fulfill everything that came before.
The best thing about this is community: if you have a moment with others, you are all creating your own point. A shared moment becomes a point in the story of everyone involved. To think that ten years down the line multiple people will reflect on their life and recount the same incident is a beautiful thing, a shared narrative of who we are. Of course, each moment will be up to the interpretation of the teller and thus certain details will always differ. But the inciting incident can never change.
Going one step more personal, and more complicated, takes us to shared moments experienced as a unit. I don't just mean a group, I mean multiple people experiencing something as one entity. This also happens often, the most obvious example being sex and the least obvious example being a mosquito biting a toddler chewing on a penny (though some might argue this is two different moments). If you have ever been in a deep relationship you probably know what it is like to share a moment with someone else, but as one whole. It's a level that transcends simple experience: you look at that person next to you and know that they are having the exact same moment as you, because you are in tune with each other. If you're still thinking about sex at this point, best to stop: chances are that shared moment you're thinking about isn't actually shared (ask her/him later).
On a bigger level, these shared moments can eventually lead to a shared life narrative. But at what point does this happen? When two people begin to function, to operate as a well-oiled machine using each other as mere extensions of themselves without thought, two stories can become one. Is there a time and place for this? Is this what a soul mate is for? Is my story unfilled if I end up alone? Is God real? I don't know. Well, actually, let me answer in sequence: no, maybe, it depends what type of endings you enjoy, if you think he is.
Are we all meant to eventually find that one person with who we can share our narrative? That's a bigger question than anyone really has the answer for. No one knows whether we're meant for anything, but we might be. There might be only one human being in the whole world who can ever experience something in the same way and truly be in the same moment as us. There might be ten. There might be none. But it's not about trying to find that person, it's not about trying to share what you haven't even experienced yet. This goes against experience in general. The best moments are always unplanned, that's just a fact. Yes, you may have set up an elaborate scheme for one reason or another, but as your scheme is carried out you will find that the things you remember are the details: a certain smell, a trick of the light, a smile that changes everything.
So pay attention. Seek out experience. If you are with others, cherish that experience. It makes you who you are. Be observant. You'll need to remember these things when you are telling the story in the future. And who knows, maybe you'll be telling it with someone by your side who knows exactly what happened and can guess your words before they roll off your tongue. But forget about that for now, because if it happens, it happens.
Just have a moment.
---------------
And now for something completely different...
PILLOW FIGHT!!!
http://www.quintinradford.com/laem.html
PILLOW FIGHT!
-----------------
Have a moment. It's really that simple, just have a moment.
Everyone does this every day without thinking. If you are anything like a human, you probably have some pretty special moments now and then. If you don't know what I'm talking about at all, I am very sorry and I sincerely hope World of Warcraft is going well for you.
During a special moment, there are a lot of things to consider and take in:
- what you are doing
- why you are doing whatever it is you are doing
- how you feel about it
- what you're thinking at the time
- etc.
That's a really short list, by the way. There's probably fifty things that can be experienced while having a moment (all of which I feel are sufficiently represented by "etc."). The experience of the moment itself is what life is all about. Without special moments life really isn't worth living.
All of these moments, these small gems of humanity's essence (I have created a zen cologne), are what make up who you are. They make up your life story. The narrative of each individual life is built up of plot points, these special moments. Good or bad, moments are what set up everything to come and fulfill everything that came before.
The best thing about this is community: if you have a moment with others, you are all creating your own point. A shared moment becomes a point in the story of everyone involved. To think that ten years down the line multiple people will reflect on their life and recount the same incident is a beautiful thing, a shared narrative of who we are. Of course, each moment will be up to the interpretation of the teller and thus certain details will always differ. But the inciting incident can never change.
Going one step more personal, and more complicated, takes us to shared moments experienced as a unit. I don't just mean a group, I mean multiple people experiencing something as one entity. This also happens often, the most obvious example being sex and the least obvious example being a mosquito biting a toddler chewing on a penny (though some might argue this is two different moments). If you have ever been in a deep relationship you probably know what it is like to share a moment with someone else, but as one whole. It's a level that transcends simple experience: you look at that person next to you and know that they are having the exact same moment as you, because you are in tune with each other. If you're still thinking about sex at this point, best to stop: chances are that shared moment you're thinking about isn't actually shared (ask her/him later).
On a bigger level, these shared moments can eventually lead to a shared life narrative. But at what point does this happen? When two people begin to function, to operate as a well-oiled machine using each other as mere extensions of themselves without thought, two stories can become one. Is there a time and place for this? Is this what a soul mate is for? Is my story unfilled if I end up alone? Is God real? I don't know. Well, actually, let me answer in sequence: no, maybe, it depends what type of endings you enjoy, if you think he is.
Are we all meant to eventually find that one person with who we can share our narrative? That's a bigger question than anyone really has the answer for. No one knows whether we're meant for anything, but we might be. There might be only one human being in the whole world who can ever experience something in the same way and truly be in the same moment as us. There might be ten. There might be none. But it's not about trying to find that person, it's not about trying to share what you haven't even experienced yet. This goes against experience in general. The best moments are always unplanned, that's just a fact. Yes, you may have set up an elaborate scheme for one reason or another, but as your scheme is carried out you will find that the things you remember are the details: a certain smell, a trick of the light, a smile that changes everything.
So pay attention. Seek out experience. If you are with others, cherish that experience. It makes you who you are. Be observant. You'll need to remember these things when you are telling the story in the future. And who knows, maybe you'll be telling it with someone by your side who knows exactly what happened and can guess your words before they roll off your tongue. But forget about that for now, because if it happens, it happens.
Just have a moment.
---------------
And now for something completely different...
PILLOW FIGHT!!!
http://www.quintinradford.com/laem.html
PILLOW FIGHT!
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