Sixteen

Tonight I'm celebrating Aqualad's birthday with he and his super-amazing moms at La Spaghett which, by the way, is the most amazing restaurant I'm currently aware of. I could weep, their pastas and sauces are so good!

I have written this in his card:

What a thrilling age you've come to!

May this 17th year hold much exploring, learning and dreaming -- and the ongoing discovery of what an amazing world this is, what a grand adventure life is, and the tremendous powers you possess in your health, your heart and your intelligence; your power to become any kind of adventurer you choose!

*Aqualad is formerly known as Gifty McBrainchild.

If you call me during a certain day of the week, my answering machine will punch you

 

http://eatpoopucat.com/#stripDetail-15969

 

 



Neo

Saw Neo last night for the first time in two months, We don't usually go that long. Having known him since he was twelve; a short time by my perception; a longer time, surely, by his -- I am often startled by his rapidly compounding insights. Regularly I will begin to express a higher-order concept and he will, in essence, finish the sentence for me.

I am not immune to the instincts which blind us to changes in people, though certainly more aware of it than some. But late-adolescents develop swiftly. I'm trying to get accostommed to that. It's delightful to witness in most senses, though somewhat melancholic when awkward paternal instincts get in the way.

Neo has lately engaged in bold new experiences; further proclamations of his prodigous adulthood and as always he regards these with the robust inward contemplation of a natural writer/poet/musician, or as he would probably say: just someone who's not a sheep.

For the last couple years I have regarded him as having the advanced intelligence, curiosity and skepticism (along with many other rare talents) to see the great web of illigitimacies which blanket all of normal life in this society but without that certain brand of evolution; a combination of inspiration, appreciation for context and causality, and the product of long cross-referential work, all of which enable the rare thinker who sees clearly the devil behind every angel mask, and suffers greatly for it, to graduate into the rarer thinker who sees the angel behind every inevitable natural-born devil; a process which seems fully to blame for a whole lot of peace and happiness and freedom which I have witnessed blossoming. And how could such a transformation come to completion in a sixteen-year-old when there is much evidence yet to be seen or experienced?

I told him years ago, on the verge of tears, that I hesitated to try to drag anyone through the specific path I had come, for fear they would graduate to that dark hell where I once lingered, and there lose hope, be entrapped and go no further. These days I wonder whether I've dragged anyone anywhere.

And where is Neo really? Apparently in some dark place though his own perspectives would probably not support that assumption above, though it remains my best theory. But truly, I don't know where he is. Neither of us do.

I just know that I want him out of that place and I want that very dearly. I don't know to what degree I may have some responsibilty for it. I suspect he would claim none at all.

Put in jail for stealing a blob from the magic mushroom shop

http://eatpoopucat.com/#stripDetail-17017

 

The Lonely Lumberjack: Changes

My entire life
I have walked
Whatever path alone
Forged ahead
No matter what
Emotions not ever betraying
My stern face

Lately, I have made
A pleasant discovery
It sort of
Crept up on me

To always be alone
Is not
Who I have to be

To bend; accept help
Is to develop
A trust

Not to be like
An old machine
That gradually
Submits
To
Rust


- The Lonely Lumberjack

Thank God It's Over

51323 words in November. It was great to hang out with delightful writer pals all month. The pictorial theme this year was 1980's video game. So the stickers and everything are grotesquely pixilated. I guess they thought it would be cute. What's that old eighties saying? Gag me with a spoon?

This first draft will certainly get finished - perhaps during April's Camp NaNoWriMo. It will be a long first draft. A few friends want to read it because they took part in a role-playing exercise to help me orchestrate the sequence of events. But whether I ever carve it up with a proper edit is questionable. I'd only go to the trouble if I anticipated significant market appeal and I don't know if I'm up to the task of banging a book into the standard fantasy genre parameters.

Thank you, Microsoft

So… Windows 8 is so super spectacular it actually knows everything I hate and gradually alters its processes to make my experience as awful as possible.

For instance, as soon as I turn on my laptop and enter my security password it immediately displays the latest Rob Ford update. Seriously. Every time.

 

It so happens I really don’t care about the latest RobFord particulars. I don’t care what he has to say. I don’t care if he sinks or swims. I don’t care if Robford donates $1000 and a balloon-poodle full of crack to every boy and girl in the western hemisphere. I don’t care if he grows two new heads and flies to Phaelon, sneezing sea monkeys the whole way, and gets married to Chewbacca. Even if I’m invited to the wedding, I still won’t care. And I certainly won't go. And I'll only RSVP for Chewbacca's sake.

I don’t care if robford lives or dies. Hell, I don’t even care if Toronto elects Keith Richards as their new mayor.

If you don’t believe me, here’s a picture of me not giving a shit:

 

Oops. That’s me in my thong. Stupid Windows 8.

So Many Jobs...

I just went out to the cinema to spend a gift certificate I've had for more than a year, before it expires on me. I watched a movie about a man who was an ass hole in many ways but who suffered insight at times and suffered moments of great inspiration and was at times an inspiration to others. The difference between he and I, at least thus far, is that he made use of his inspiration and actually accomplished things; things that are highly regarded by some and by others (even if few), perhaps not so much.

The film attributed some very powerful quotes to him, sentiments which I have myself opined at times and which inspire me now. I intend to research them to see if other sources also attribute them to him. Obviously I'm talking about a biographical film but of course, nothing in a biographical film is necessarily true just because it's on film.

Driving home I was left thinking about the regrettable holiday my life has become. I keep looking at the stacks and stacks of unfinished projects which clog my shelves and drawers, my computer and my mind.

I need a new plan. One that starts with a single vision before breaking down into mandates and goals, but at the same time, one that incorporates inspiration. I need to keep that which inspires me most, close at hand. Some reminder, some talisman, some object I can view at moments of critical decision-making a dozen times a day, and remember why I must be disciplined; why I must succeed; why I must be a better man; why I must survive.

Okay - I'm taking a step...

This is just the goofy cover for the proof copies of heroic adventure-satire novel Eye of Atchewa which I have fully committed to ordering before the end of the month. It represents the farthest step I've taken toward publishing an actual novel. Several friends will give it a read, or as much of it as they can stand. Then I'll decide if it should see the public eye or not and if so, I'll give it a final edit and then go looking for a publisher.

I threw in the Admiral Bleekxpritzle story because a couple friends want to read that as well and it didn't cost any extra. So for everyone who keeps asking when I might get a novel on the shelves, or have given up asking, I'm finally trying to make something happen. And yes, those are gaming miniatures on the cover!

These Are the People in My Neighbourhood

"Hey What's Up?"

I lock my front door and turn around. Apparently he was talking to me. He's about three feet tall and wearing very cool sunglasses, a bit large on his smallish head. "Not much. What's up with you?"

"We webhjh ghur gyh en two dogs en blah blah... ruff ruff! En I tol him jl$ hafy g#dg g@d."

"I see."

"Tell him have a nice day!" says the smiling woman in lawn chair.

"Haffa nice day!"

"Okay. You too."

Freak.

V is for Vraisemblance

Welcome back to FWiG's April A-to-Z Odditorium of Forgotten English! Or -- welcome for the first time!

Vraisemblance: an appearance of truth; verisimilitude, a representation or picture. From French vrai (true) and semblance.

Example: "Society is a structure of human organization for which people utilize to leverage one another in satisfying their individual dark desires, while managing a vraisemblance to that of a creature made in their god's image."

Source: New English Dictionary (1928) William Craigie
Google hits: 70,000


Verdugo: a hangman or executioner, or an insult along similar vein.

Not to be confused with vertigo, which may very well be related given their common components involving an unhealthy separation from the ground.

A weight-bearing crane, which we call a derrick (as in oil derrick) is so named after infamous hangman Thomas Derrick of England's Elizabethan era, who not only executed more than 3000 convicts but who engineered, for his gallows, the frame and pulley system eponymous with today's cranes. Ironically, Derrick, in 1601, bedangled The Duke of Essex, who once, himself, had pardoned Derrick of the death penalty for the crime of rape; an event which had a prominent role in Derrick's originally being coerced into the hangman role.

Thomas Derrick was eventually succeeded by also-famous Richard Brandon, subject of macabre fascination and a loyal following, who received a £30 bonus for doing in King Charles the 1st and ever after feared for his own assassination. But he died of natural causes and was succeeded by Jack Ketch who was like the Kleenex of hangmen as the word ketch became the household word for executioner.

So there you have it, the holy trinity of England's gallowicious period.

Source: New English Dictionary (1926) William Craigie
Google hits: 15,000,000 (due almost entirely to the surname)


Vampirarchy: rulership by the overtly predatory.

I choose not to buy gas at Esso stations. They are brand outlets of Imperial Oil; subsidiary of ExxonMobil. Together they do alright with around $48 trillion in annual profits, largely through their exploration and production of fossil fuels and related enterprises such as oil refining, petroleum and convenience retail, natural gas processing, synthetic crude production and super-scale wildlife destruction. To get a context for the figure 48 trillion, simply imagine something you can't possibly imagine. And remember that's net profit. Not earnings.

ExxonMobil is the largest company in the world by both revenue and market capitalization and are referred to as "...one of the planet’s most hated corporations, able to determine American foreign policy and the fate of entire nations," in a 2012 article by The Daily Telegraph.

At executive board meetings, executives sing "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow..." and remind each other that fossil fuels come from a magical bottomless cup and that life on earth doesn't actually require a biosphere to survive. Then they recite the Daily ExxonMobil Prayer which closes as follows:

"...another small oil spill for man, another great shitstain on the face of mankind. Oh Lord we have more than enough buckaneros to buy our way into heaven. Amen and pass the bourbon."

No, instead I buy gas at Shell because they give me air-miles points which I later convert into free, though entirely crappy, food at Boston Pizza restaurants. See how awesome I am?

Source: New English Dictionary (1928) William Craigie
Google hits: 700

Stop! Swag time! (Exxon Mobil always finds innovative ways to spill oil and kill people.)

U is for Unthew

First off! This is not the past tense of unthaw! Secondly: There is no such word as unthaw! And that is because the reverse of thawing already has a name and that word is freeze! When someone says to you "unthaw," what they really mean is "thaw" but they're just being a nimrod.

Unthew: a bad habit; unhealthy custom. Unthewed: unruly or wanton (again, not the noodle). Unthewful: unmannerly; unseemly.

As recently mentioned, first album I ever bought (vinyl of course) as a teeny-bopper: The Monks, Bad Habits featuring hits Drugs in My Pocket and Nice Legs Shame About Her Face!

Source: New English Dictionary (1926) William Craigie
Google hits: 19,500


Unroningness: Desolation.

St. Kilda is a barren treeless island; Britain's most remote landscape, 180 Km off the west coast of Scotland. As there never was an actual St. Kilda, the name is believed a bastardization of Norse Skildir.

The first steamboats to ever reach the island threw the locals into a tizzy as they thought the ships were on fire. Upon their request, the last three dozen human inhabitants of St. Kilda were evacuated August 29, 1930 and oddly, most found mainland jobs in forestry. The local seabirds and puffins declined evacuation.

Source: Dictionary of the Oldest Words in the English Language (1863) Herbert Coleridge
Google hits: 95

Ustion: the act of burning or the state of being burnt. From Latin: ustus.

Not to be confused with Houston, where people wear big hats and think they're hot stuff and temperatures have been known to reach as high as 109°C (43°F). Director Wes Anderson and actor Patrick Swayze were born in Houston,

The Chinchaga River fire, also known as the Wisp Fire of 1950 is thought the greatest in North American history burning approximately four million acres through unpopulated British Columbia and Alberta. It created so much upper-atmosphere smoke that remnants migrated all the way to Europe where the mysterious "Great Pall" caused a sensation, its nature not initially understood.

Source: Imperial Lexicon (c. 1850) Rev. John Boag
Google hits: 71,800

Torched my dinner because it wasn't cooking fast enough.