I think the correct answer is “Thump!” as my bike would say. I like that better then “Mu” in some usages.
After several hours of tinkering yesterday I went out for a ride. Wow, what a difference a few adjustments can make. Nice thump through the countryside with intermittent spurts of speed and curve leans. I know spring is not far off for one simple irrefutable reason: peepers.
While down at the local BMW bike shop (Had to show off the great green curry rocket to an old acquaintance) I notice there was a little swamp at the end of the road. Maybe 50 sickly trees, some marsh grass, and about one half an acre of water. It was quite wee in swamp terms. Remember I grew up in Florida, so swamp to me is much bigger. Swamps so big whole semi-trucks can disappear, never to be heard from again. Where things that are mean enough to try to either mate with you or eat you live. Then there is the wildlife.
Anyway, out of nowhere I heard them start. I know to some it is annoying the sound they make, but to me it is like music. So there I sat for a moment on the green monster, listening to the engine provide a modern bass back beat to them. I still remember the sounds of the bullfrogs at night on the swamp. To me it is as stirring as Mozart at his best. In one of his songs, Thomas Dolby captured it perfectly as the refrain in “I love you, goodbye”. Must be the “Coon-ass” blood in me.
It must be strange to some to hear me go on about something like this. What does it have to do with anything like I usually write?
The answer to that is simple: “Thump!”
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Thursday, March 17, 2005
From Tomcat's Blog (Remix)
Like this is any real surprise:
You are a Bone Gnawer!
Which Garou tribe do you belong to?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a Ragabash!
Born on the New Moon, you are naturally tricky and
aloof. A born prankster; you attack with a
joke here and there faster than anyone can
tell. You are the trickiest of all the
Auspices.
What Auspice of Garou are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a Bone Gnawer!
Which Garou tribe do you belong to?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are a Ragabash!
Born on the New Moon, you are naturally tricky and
aloof. A born prankster; you attack with a
joke here and there faster than anyone can
tell. You are the trickiest of all the
Auspices.
What Auspice of Garou are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Friday, March 11, 2005
Houston, we have a problem
Seems Blogger has gone off its medications and is having a few problems. Some of it is in postings, others in comments. So, yes I know, no it is not just my blog, and no I cannot fix it. Not my servers, not my problem.
So I have been thinking of late about language. Not any one in particular but language as a whole. I remembered what William S. Burroughs once said and Laurie Anderson reinforced “Language is a virus from outer space.” The more I began to think about this, the more sense it made, especially at 3:30am while in that semi dream state you are in doing the thorizine shuffle to the bathroom. I will, for both courtesy and brevity, leave certain parts of this trip out.
Now, I got on this whole thing due to an entry in my friend Barbs blog about the word authentic. I figure this is way too long and unrelated to post as a comment, so I will do it here. I recommend you stop by her blog (there is a link on the right to Tigers and Strawberries) and read before we go any further. Go ahead, I will wait here till you get back, although I may go get a cup of coffee in the mean time.
Okay, back now or did you not go and will try to figure out what her blog entry was about without actually reading it? If you fall into the latter category, you are on your own. If this hurts and you did not stop to go read you did it to yourself. I told you not to stick the fork in the wall socket so if you get burned, do not blame me for the invention of electricity!
Authentic: from the Latin “auctorizo”, meaning to confirm, approve, authenticate.
Now this just happens to be my favorite word in all the English language. Why? Because it has a great story with it.
During the Roman Classical period the greatest fad in architecture was the use of the column as a decoration to the entrance or portico of ones home. We all know of the great Roman columns in design, but here is the story you may not know. There were two different types of columns, the “auctorizo” solid column of marble and the “falsus” or fake column. Solid marble columns were quite pricey and out of the reach of many roman citizens. But someone found that certain hard waxes when mixed with stone chips and dust could make a quite presentable column at a much lower price sort of a Wallmart type of alternative. The big problem with them was they were structurally very weak. It seems wax did not have the holding power of solid stone. Go figure! Therefore the columns were of two available types and labeled as such, the “falsus” or wax based column and the solid or “auctorizo” column, literally without wax.
So this being said, I would without a doubt say:
“Yes Barb, your cooking is totally authentic. I have never known you to use wax…”
And can I have mine without the duck products? I am alergic to duck. :(
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake
Or
Exaro tunc vicis ,
Exsisto memor quod suscitatio.
So I have been thinking of late about language. Not any one in particular but language as a whole. I remembered what William S. Burroughs once said and Laurie Anderson reinforced “Language is a virus from outer space.” The more I began to think about this, the more sense it made, especially at 3:30am while in that semi dream state you are in doing the thorizine shuffle to the bathroom. I will, for both courtesy and brevity, leave certain parts of this trip out.
Now, I got on this whole thing due to an entry in my friend Barbs blog about the word authentic. I figure this is way too long and unrelated to post as a comment, so I will do it here. I recommend you stop by her blog (there is a link on the right to Tigers and Strawberries) and read before we go any further. Go ahead, I will wait here till you get back, although I may go get a cup of coffee in the mean time.
Okay, back now or did you not go and will try to figure out what her blog entry was about without actually reading it? If you fall into the latter category, you are on your own. If this hurts and you did not stop to go read you did it to yourself. I told you not to stick the fork in the wall socket so if you get burned, do not blame me for the invention of electricity!
Authentic: from the Latin “auctorizo”, meaning to confirm, approve, authenticate.
Now this just happens to be my favorite word in all the English language. Why? Because it has a great story with it.
During the Roman Classical period the greatest fad in architecture was the use of the column as a decoration to the entrance or portico of ones home. We all know of the great Roman columns in design, but here is the story you may not know. There were two different types of columns, the “auctorizo” solid column of marble and the “falsus” or fake column. Solid marble columns were quite pricey and out of the reach of many roman citizens. But someone found that certain hard waxes when mixed with stone chips and dust could make a quite presentable column at a much lower price sort of a Wallmart type of alternative. The big problem with them was they were structurally very weak. It seems wax did not have the holding power of solid stone. Go figure! Therefore the columns were of two available types and labeled as such, the “falsus” or wax based column and the solid or “auctorizo” column, literally without wax.
So this being said, I would without a doubt say:
“Yes Barb, your cooking is totally authentic. I have never known you to use wax…”
And can I have mine without the duck products? I am alergic to duck. :(
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake
Or
Exaro tunc vicis ,
Exsisto memor quod suscitatio.
Tuesday, March 8, 2005
Another change?
Yea, another change.
Seems the goldenrod color did not go over well with the majority of my readers who commented. So, here is the deal: I went "old skool" on you all!
Never worked on a greenscreen monitor? Well, you know have a general idea what all the fuss was about back in the day. The links turning yellow are in deference to the amber screens out there as well.
Don't like it? Oh well, sorry, but this one stays till I get tired of it.
Of course, with me could be three or four years or even later today, who knows? But that is part of the fun of comming here right?
Seems the goldenrod color did not go over well with the majority of my readers who commented. So, here is the deal: I went "old skool" on you all!
Never worked on a greenscreen monitor? Well, you know have a general idea what all the fuss was about back in the day. The links turning yellow are in deference to the amber screens out there as well.
Don't like it? Oh well, sorry, but this one stays till I get tired of it.
Of course, with me could be three or four years or even later today, who knows? But that is part of the fun of comming here right?
Saturday, March 5, 2005
Monday, February 21, 2005
Somewhere on an island.
I got up this morning, much like any other morning, fuzzy headed in hair and mind. Made the morning stumble to the coffee maker and drew off my first cup and headed into the living room to go through my morning mail. Usual stuff, 100 messages and only 2 worth reading. Afterwards I did my normal search of my comics to get a good mood rolling and then switched over to read CNN. I find the world is a little easier to deal with after a chuckle or two. It also lets the caffeine seep into my brain a little more. I stared at the top of the page, right hand column as usual but started reading from the bottom of the column to the top, which is unusual. I finally read the very first entry and was hit with it like a ton of bricks: Author Hunter S. Thompson commits suicide.
It struck me hard. I guess a side effect of reading a lot of Dr Gonzo makes you feel like in a way you know him personally. He, in my own opinion, never had the proverbial fourth wall between his writing and his readers. You could take his words and add his voice without a second thought, much in a way I like to think I write. His work got me to stop worrying about “accepted styles” and more about writing what I thought I needed to say. I hate to say this but I feel slightly numb over the whole thing. It is a lot like waking up from anesthetic and realizing your short a body part you were not aware of before. You may have consciously known it was there because you were told it was, but the feeling of its absence is more real that the actual presence it had. Maybe he had more of an affect on my writing than I thought, but I can only now realize it more consciously since he is no longer “here” any more.
But then again, I could be totally off. I think I’ll end this one by swiping a line or 3 from Dr Gonzo himself, commenting on Nixon’s death: “but I don’t believe that and wont, not until I gnaw on his skull with my very own teeth. The nineties weren’t the sixties but they were wild and I personally had signed on for the whole trip.” The nineties are gone and behind us. Perhaps he ascribed to the cyclical nature of time and saw us headed again into a fifties style McCarthyism. Then again, maybe he has finally been accepted into the great club of the immortals and is now kicked back on a white sand beach in a recliner, drinking a drink from some ceramic Buddha with little umbrellas shooting at passing gulls with Elvis as Jim Hendrix plays soft tunes in the background, waiting for Amelia Airheart to call them in for their fresh peanut butter and fried banana sandwiches with side orders of dodo bird. Or perhaps, it just finally got too weird for him. No matter what, it can be said he wrote the ending to his own life and did not let it be written for him.
Where ever you are Dr.Gonzo, enjoy and thank you.
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake.
It struck me hard. I guess a side effect of reading a lot of Dr Gonzo makes you feel like in a way you know him personally. He, in my own opinion, never had the proverbial fourth wall between his writing and his readers. You could take his words and add his voice without a second thought, much in a way I like to think I write. His work got me to stop worrying about “accepted styles” and more about writing what I thought I needed to say. I hate to say this but I feel slightly numb over the whole thing. It is a lot like waking up from anesthetic and realizing your short a body part you were not aware of before. You may have consciously known it was there because you were told it was, but the feeling of its absence is more real that the actual presence it had. Maybe he had more of an affect on my writing than I thought, but I can only now realize it more consciously since he is no longer “here” any more.
But then again, I could be totally off. I think I’ll end this one by swiping a line or 3 from Dr Gonzo himself, commenting on Nixon’s death: “but I don’t believe that and wont, not until I gnaw on his skull with my very own teeth. The nineties weren’t the sixties but they were wild and I personally had signed on for the whole trip.” The nineties are gone and behind us. Perhaps he ascribed to the cyclical nature of time and saw us headed again into a fifties style McCarthyism. Then again, maybe he has finally been accepted into the great club of the immortals and is now kicked back on a white sand beach in a recliner, drinking a drink from some ceramic Buddha with little umbrellas shooting at passing gulls with Elvis as Jim Hendrix plays soft tunes in the background, waiting for Amelia Airheart to call them in for their fresh peanut butter and fried banana sandwiches with side orders of dodo bird. Or perhaps, it just finally got too weird for him. No matter what, it can be said he wrote the ending to his own life and did not let it be written for him.
Where ever you are Dr.Gonzo, enjoy and thank you.
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Hit and Run
First let me post something from a recent comment I received via my blog, in it’s entirety, without any editing:
“LOL ... Those are some old buildings man, And before the floodwall was erected, That main street was under the Ohio several times. These things being considered i suppose the musty odor might be expected. As for the feelings, lol I suppose if you've heard about the place's history and the "Mothman" BEFORE you came into town, you'd either consciously or unconsciously be LOOKING for something (ANYTHING) out of the ordinary, Therefore ... You'd find it surely enough. As for the "Dread" ... WHAT? LOL I have left this place so many times only to have it welcome me back warmly, Dread as in not having a great deal of opportunity for graduates perhaps but then again as iv'e said: Iv'e been around and seen SEVERAL of towns with THAT kind of "Dread" ... Yea this place is alright and i have a hard time imagining a MALE anyway ... being afraid to walk ANYWHERE short of the Little Algiers section of New Orleans or perhaps the Hill District in Pittsburgh and places of the like ... I certainly can't imagine anyone being afraid of a little old rural town with a spook story that's around 40 years old. One last thing ... lol These are POWER plants LOL There are NO NUCLEAR plant's around here. LOL”
It was unsigned. Apparently whomever this was cannot effectively use the shift key for what ever reason and from the amount of “LOL” that has been used can not be bothered to try and make a witty comment without a cymbal crash to clue us in to the fact it was funny.
Now granted, perhaps I did have some preconceived notions before I went to Point Pleasant. I can agree to that, without hesitation, but one does not go anywhere without preconception, unless heavily medicated, as I would most likely recommend for the author of this anonymous comment.
As for questions about my masculinity, I take great offence at this. Prior to such a comment I tried to keep an open mind, but when a poltroon initiates such personal attacks, I have a tendency to loose any objectivity. I would be more than willing to address this with the person who would not even identify themselves at a time and place of their choosing, in a manner of their comfort. All I request is their card and their seconds contact information. I would wager I could call upon any of my friends to second for me, be they male or female. Also, it would be nice to know where to send the flowers when I am finished with them as I feel I would make any correction to their improper attitude most permanent. This is not a threat by any means, as those who do know me know I do not make idle threats. If you consider yourself “man” enough to utter such words, then be willing to stand by them or sulk off into the vast wastes of the net, never to return, like the coward you have shown yourself to be until this point.
And lastly, the power plants comment. I have never claimed to be an expert in the visual recognition of power plants from a moving vehicle. My observation of the plant were mostly of the twin cooling towers that are of the same visual design as many other nuclear plants. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks then to assume it is a duck is not a mental fallacy. If it turns out it is not a duck, then be gracious and admit it is not a duck. So therefore, a power plant, no matter conventional or nuclear, is not a duck.
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake.
PS And learn to use the shift key!
“LOL ... Those are some old buildings man, And before the floodwall was erected, That main street was under the Ohio several times. These things being considered i suppose the musty odor might be expected. As for the feelings, lol I suppose if you've heard about the place's history and the "Mothman" BEFORE you came into town, you'd either consciously or unconsciously be LOOKING for something (ANYTHING) out of the ordinary, Therefore ... You'd find it surely enough. As for the "Dread" ... WHAT? LOL I have left this place so many times only to have it welcome me back warmly, Dread as in not having a great deal of opportunity for graduates perhaps but then again as iv'e said: Iv'e been around and seen SEVERAL of towns with THAT kind of "Dread" ... Yea this place is alright and i have a hard time imagining a MALE anyway ... being afraid to walk ANYWHERE short of the Little Algiers section of New Orleans or perhaps the Hill District in Pittsburgh and places of the like ... I certainly can't imagine anyone being afraid of a little old rural town with a spook story that's around 40 years old. One last thing ... lol These are POWER plants LOL There are NO NUCLEAR plant's around here. LOL”
It was unsigned. Apparently whomever this was cannot effectively use the shift key for what ever reason and from the amount of “LOL” that has been used can not be bothered to try and make a witty comment without a cymbal crash to clue us in to the fact it was funny.
Now granted, perhaps I did have some preconceived notions before I went to Point Pleasant. I can agree to that, without hesitation, but one does not go anywhere without preconception, unless heavily medicated, as I would most likely recommend for the author of this anonymous comment.
As for questions about my masculinity, I take great offence at this. Prior to such a comment I tried to keep an open mind, but when a poltroon initiates such personal attacks, I have a tendency to loose any objectivity. I would be more than willing to address this with the person who would not even identify themselves at a time and place of their choosing, in a manner of their comfort. All I request is their card and their seconds contact information. I would wager I could call upon any of my friends to second for me, be they male or female. Also, it would be nice to know where to send the flowers when I am finished with them as I feel I would make any correction to their improper attitude most permanent. This is not a threat by any means, as those who do know me know I do not make idle threats. If you consider yourself “man” enough to utter such words, then be willing to stand by them or sulk off into the vast wastes of the net, never to return, like the coward you have shown yourself to be until this point.
And lastly, the power plants comment. I have never claimed to be an expert in the visual recognition of power plants from a moving vehicle. My observation of the plant were mostly of the twin cooling towers that are of the same visual design as many other nuclear plants. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks then to assume it is a duck is not a mental fallacy. If it turns out it is not a duck, then be gracious and admit it is not a duck. So therefore, a power plant, no matter conventional or nuclear, is not a duck.
Till next time,
Be mindful and awake.
PS And learn to use the shift key!
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