Taking Bets

How many days before some lunatic Morgbot baptizes Michael Jackson posthumously as a Mormon?  How many times will he be dead-dunked before it hits the news?

It’s like they’re chronic masturbators – they can’t help themselves (and in no way am I implying that there’s anything wrong with masturbation).

Any takers?

Dear Mormonism and Homophobes

Have a nice day.

List: Feast of Fiction

In alphabetical order by author, I give you my list of Fantasy series favorites.  If you’re so inclined, leave a comment about your favorites here, or if you have favorites you’d like to share.  Sharing is good.  Cher is good, too, but I digress.

Prydain Chronicles – Lloyd Alexander

• The Book of Three
• The Black Cauldron
• The Castle of Llyr
• Taran Wanderer
• The High King

I read Alexander’s series in middle school, again in high school, later in my twenties, and recently within the last two years.  The Welsh mythology-based series is a coming-of-age tale for Taran, the Assistant Pig-Farmer, and his battles against the war lord Arawn.

The Mists of Avalon – Marion Zimmer Bradley

Growing up inside the Zion curtain and its patriarchal heirachy and expectations, this book opened windows and doors to explore feminism, sexuality, and spirituality.  In this work by Bradley, she recounts the Arthurian tales told through Morgaine’s perspective.

The Mortal Instruments – Cassandra Clare

• City of Bones
• City of Ashes
• City of Glass

There are times I reread entire pages and chapters – Clare’s writing is compact, expressive, adept, and exhilarating.  The coming-of-age series is about a young woman who discovers she is a Shadowhunter of angelic descent, that her own mother hid her history and inherent gifts from her, and that she was born to destroy demons.

Banned and the Banished – James Clemens

• Wit’ch Fire
• Wit’ch Storm
• Wit’ch War
• Wit’ch Gate
• Wit’ch Star

The first book set the pace – fantastic and memorable characters from page one involved in an epic struggle against evil.  I prayed to all the gods that Clemens wouldn’t die before he finished the series (he’s quite alive).  Clemens weaves horror and thriller elements into a high-fantasy world of unique magic, elves, and swords.  Another memorable is that I “found” Clemens’ email on the internets, wrote to him, and he wrote back!  We’ve been in contact since the late 90’s.

Wraeththu Chronicles – Storm Constantine

• The Enchantments of Flesh and Spirit
• The Bewitchments of Love and Hate
• The Fulfilments of Fate and Desire

Post-apocalyptic Earth of magic and technology.  Constantine explores a rich world of the Wraeththu, a genetically evolved and superior race that challenge the normative concept of gender and sexuality.  What is constant are the over-arching explorations of relationships, power, and spirituality.

Coldfire Trilogy – C. S. Friedman

• Black Sun Rising
• When True Night Falls
• Crown of Shadows

Never have I loved a character (Tarrant) to be so purely evil while so tantalizingly redemptive.  Signed print of the book cover by artist Michael Whalen.

The Sandman graphic novels – Neil Gaiman

• Preludes and Nocturnes
• The Doll’s House
• Dream Country
• Season of Mists
• A Game of You
• Fables and Reflections
• Brief Lives
• World’s End
• The Kindly ones
• The Wake

THE Fantasy Bible, in manageable volumes.  Gaiman’s seven archetypal Endless siblings and their worlds was/is a literary earthquake.  I laughed, I cried.  I was horrified and I was at peace.  There is nothing like this series in the universe.

Fionavar Tapestry – Guy Gavriel Kay

• The Summer Tree
• The Wandering Fire
• The Darkest Road

Epic high fantasy.  This series made me realize the smallness and stark black and white world of Tolkien’s.  Within this Tapestry Kay weaves Arthurian elements and sub-plots.  This series had me weeping from the pure beauty of Kay’s writing.  There is a scene towards the end of “The Darkest Road” that had me sobbing.

A Wrinkle in Time – Madeleine L’Engle

To be a third grade child again and listen to Mrs. Ririe say “tesseract” and imagine space folding and unfolding.

A Wizard of Earthsea – Ursula K. Le Guin

The story of Shadowhawk, which is less about magic and more about fighting and reconciling the shadow within ourselves.

Riddlemaster Trilogy – Patricia K. McKillip

• Riddlemaster of Hed
• Heir of Sea and Fire
• Harpist in the Wind

Morgan, a middle child and simple farmer in a land called Hed, was born with three stars on his forehead.  The reluctant hero eventually finds a harp and sword, each bearing matching stars.  He will travel the world to discover himself.  I’ve reread this series at least six times, each time enjoying it just as much.

His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman

• The Golden Compass
• The Subtle Knife
• The Amber Spyglass

Families we have, families we choose.  Themes of God, power, religion, secrets, worlds within worlds within worlds, but the writing is the true vehicle, and Pullman drives at fierce and relentless pace.  Profane in the sense that the stories tell a universal truth, and organized religion hates when that happens.

Your turn.  Gimme something to blow my mind.

Feast of Fiction

If I haven’t been social networking (Facebook, Twitter, etc), gaming (Second Life, Sims3, Jade Empire (old Xbox game -shut up)), and certainly haven’t been blogging, then what HAVE I been doing?  You didn’t ask, but I’ve been reading.  Reading gobs and gobs.  Devouring lines, pages, chapters, books, savoring words and images and sometimes sitting back and saying “wow” and looking around for a fire extinguisher because it felt like I had a fiery orgasm.  (No, I haven’t been reading erotica, but I have some good suggestions for those inclined.)  Sometimes the story is so powerful that I cry – but I can count on two hands the times that has ever happened.

It feels good to read.  I should do more.  The call of the computer is strong, and being the king of self-distractions, I get lost in an obscene number of unnecessary side-trips.  If the most efficient path is point A to point B, my trips are usually round-the-world loopty-loops.  But with reading?  I’ll stop when my body is tired.  I’ve been known to pick up a book and not stop until I’m done – I’ve had many a put-the-book-down-with-a-sigh moments at 3:00am.  Being able to read fast helps.  I’m sure everyone measures how many pages they can read in an hour.  Some people have penis and/or reading envy – I don’t.  100+ pages an hour, baby (don’t ask the other stat).

What is it about good reading that can stop time, create feelings from words on a page, and connection and care for people that don’t exist?  What is it in those moments that I want to do the same kinds of things in my own writing?  Why do YOU read and what do YOU get out of it?

Part II of this post (I thought I’d be merciful and break up the long post) will follow.  For those inclined to reading, I’ve put together a short list of long-time favorites in terms of fantasy/fiction series.  I threw in a few stand-alones as well.  I’m a book pusher.  Go read.  You know you want to.  Everyone’s doing it.  If you were cool you’d do it, too.  Measure your… speed, too.  Return and report.

How to Get Into Heaven (joke)

How to get to Heaven – in Ireland

I was testing children in my Dublin Sunday school class to see if they understood the concept of getting to heaven.

I asked them,  ‘If I sold my house and my car, had a big garage sale and gave all my money to the church, would that get me into heaven?’

‘NO!’ the children answered.

‘If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the garden, and kept everything tidy, would that get me into heaven?’

Again, the answer was  ‘No!’   By now I was starting to smile.

‘Well, then, if I was kind to animals and gave candy to all the children, and loved my husband, would that get me into heaven?’

Again, they all answered  ‘No!’    I was just bursting with pride for them.

I continued, ‘ Then how can I get into heaven?’

A six year-old boy shouted out  ‘YUV GOTTAE BE FOCKN’ DEAD……….’

Talk Thursday: Two Topics

Over a week ago, it was my turn to post the topic for Talk Thursday.  I was gung-ho about getting back into running, the new shoes have since been worn twice on a run/walk through the hills of Lime Ridge.  In my own private idealism I thought I’d find a metaphor in there somewhere.  Something about how when we run there is nowhere that we run to, that in the trek between point A and point B there is nothing there but ourselves, that the psychology of running was more an exercise in kinetic meditation.  The sweat, the aches, the burning lungs are extraneous.

Thanks Eddie, for the topic – I’m early for yours and I’m late for mine, but that’s my par for this writing course. I have other thoughts in mind beyond running.  Or because of running.  Meditations in motion.

Monday and Tuesday were… whelming.  Not over or under, but life wasn’t normal in the sense that I could let the days be.  Parts still reverberate, like hearing from Leo again.  There was a little note on Facebook, a response, and a smaller note in reply (because as far as emails and notes go, size does matter).  He was in town and wanted to do lunch “or something” with me in SF.  Cute and deliberate, that “or something.”  Funny how a phrase can bring back his face in my hands, his kiss on my lips, his weight on my pelvis as he straddled me – it was almost a decade ago!   His mind and soul were elsewhere and I was his toy for the evening and we played.  Funny how no matter how long ago it was, I still care that he didn’t.

My psychology of running is here:  I don’t run from noon-time indiscretions with horny, straight, married men who think I’m convenient.  I don’t tell him what he meant to me and it’s not because I’m late in his game, but because he would never hear my words or make sense of what I had to say.  I do and I did politely decline the lunch rendevous, using an economy of keystrokes sans sentiment, and I do tell him to enjoy when he’s chowing down on Shanghai dumplings.

Dear readers… what’s your psychology of running?  Anything or anyone specific you run to or from?  Game on.

Along Came a Spider

Perhaps my dislike of spiders started when I was a wee lad because my mom’s hysteria over the tiniest of spiders was quite catching.  I can still hear the octaves through thirty-plus years.  Too bad You Tube wasn’t around there – the family could have made a lot of money.  I digress.

Those with whom I’ve shared long-term relationships know that I have occassional incidents of talking in my sleep, or sometimes sitting up in bed and pointing at the ceiling or a far wall.  I’ve been known to wander and turn on and off lights.  When I was in elementary school, my parents would catch me as I ran down the hall towards the front door, screaming that I had to save my best friend – I never remembered any of those episodes.  One last thing, before I get back tgo spiders, is that camping as a child was not fun for everyone around me.  It seems that I had a penchant to turn myself around in my sleeping bag and punch and scream, trying to get out.  As far as was concerned, I slept like a rock since I don’t remember any of those episodes, either.  Spider dreams I do remember though.  Even now, I’ll wake up, or think I’ve woken up to find gossamer strands around the room and a spider climbing through webs.  I’ve gone so far as to turn on a light, sure that the spider and webs would be there, but there has never been anything there.

Scott was working on a computer in the garage and a black widow crawled out from the computer fan, fangs extended.  He screamed (”eek!”) and killed it.  I don’t like spiders, but I won’t kill them on purpose or unless they’re already injured.  I usually take them outside:  cup and envelope or piece of paper works really well.  By now I’m up to scores and scores saved, I’m sure.   (There’s an opportunity to bash Mormons and their practice of posthumous baptisms in there, somewhere.)

Near the front porch, tucked down near the base of the flowering sweet peas, is a black widow spider that made a network of webs.  The last week or so, when I take Midas out to do his business, I can see her sitting in the middle of her web.  Scott’s gone so far as to throw mosquitos and moths into the webbing and watch her bite then wrap her dinner.  I’ve watched Scott, but haven’t watched the gargantuan spider.  She’s stayed in her area, eating bugs and nasty mosquitos – she’s outside, I’m inside.

Today I was outside, working on low-flow sprinklers with Scott.  The weather was gorgeous.  I’ve been offline (away from computers) for several days and the meditative aspect of yardwork and planting and weeding has been calming and clearing.  While working on the sprinkler near the flowering sweet peas, the black widow spider made an appearance, landing within a few inches of Scott’s hand.  Another “eek!”  I went inside and got a cup and envelope.  My first attempt failed.  Scott caught her for me.  I took her out back in the far corner.  Maybe she’s in shock and maybe I’m a sentimental bastard, but she hadn’t moved for a good 30 minutes after I put her on the fence.  I hope she survived the move, and I hope she keeps spinning those webs.

Install, Uninstall and reboot

Second three-day weekend.  Here’s to a summer of three-day weekends.  Here’s to three-day weekends without technical difficulties.

Scott’s been taking the Chrysler 300’s engine apart to get to the no-oil-pressure issue.  He’s also been de-greasing the engine interior and painting it back to factory original.  I’ve been doing yard work or goofing on the computer.  A year ago, Scott talked about a workspace in the garage so I could join him out there while he worked.  Saturday, my space happened.  Saturday, my laptop worked perfectly.  Saturday night, Windows did an update before I shut down.  Sunday, laptop no workie.  Blood pressure and swearing worked perfectly, but laptop no workie.

I installed, uninstalled, reinstalled, rebooted, deleted, downloaded, prayed, and cursed.  I learned a lot in the whole process, little things like “msconfig” and “regedit.”  During several of the rebooting and installing moments, I did yardwork and planted flowers.  No low-flow and drip sprinkler setups – that will have to wait for another day.   During another install/reboot episode, I weeded and filled an entire container with yard waste.  Go, me!

Finally, I learned that I’m a casual user, not a techie any more.  I learned that I have the patience of Rush Limbaugh waiting for his Viagra fix to kick in (Tangent – but it’s good that he’s rich because that jerk-off isn’t gettin’ any without paying for it).  I learned that I didn’t read ONE little menu item, which was the source of all that was wrong in the world.

The laptop is back in business.  I apologize for taking various diety’s names in vain.

***

Different subject.  I have 3+ years of old posts to go through to find dead links.  Also, as I have threatened previously, I’ll be updating my links page and removing dead links there as well.  I know many blogs have come and gone, but I’m not planning on this blog to disappear.

Thanks for the emails and encouraging comments.

Breeze

You’d think a three day weekend in any form would be perfect, but the weather was windy and cold which made swimming impossible.  This man here doesn’t do cold water and shrinkage.

While Scott was taking the Chrysler 300’s engine apart, I took Midas for a long walk at Lime Ridge – an open space of hills and trails.  A month ago everything was still green, but now everything is dry and the hills have that “California gold” look.  I should have stretched and warmed up, but once Midas and I were out of the car we started uphill.  When I take him on longer walks I like to have the short leash to practice “heel.”  After he’s burned through the initial rush of “oh my god we’re going on a walk” sort of frenzy, he listens really well.  I like being able to take him off leash – he comes back to my side with a whistle or “heel,” which I appreciate when there are other dogs or walkers nearby.

Clouds were blowing over the mountains across the valley.  As Midas and I neared the top of the first ridgeline the wind blew stronger.  He bounced through the thigh-high brush onto the trail near me, then back into the brush like a demon rabbit.  His tongue was hanging out and some of his teeth were showing and I swear that dog was grinning.  I called out to heel and he bounded next to me and walked with me a ways until I told him “okay” and he ran ahead, tail wagging.  The clouds were moving quickly, the wind was biting cold and I was glad for TLC’s beannie cap over my head and ears.

The weekend of NOT moving very much gave me a wild hair and I started running, overtaking Midas, who kept pace with me down the rock and clay path and up the next hill.  At the top, Midas wondered off the path while I tried to catch my breath.  I let my brain run wild for a few minutes as I walked off the burn.  My calves ached in a way that reminded me of running cross country, twenty years ago.  I wondered how much good running shoes or cross-trainers went for these days.  I thought the combination of cold air and fiery hot lungs was an almost painful combination.  I thought Morgan from Patricia McKillip’s “Riddle-master” fantasy trilogy, and how he played a harp whose strings were made from the winds of the world.  I wondered if that feeling of closing your fingers into a fist while outside was the closest we could come to holding a breeze.  I thought about a story I haven’t worked on in a few months and I could hear their voices.   I thought about brushing Midas and how the hair would fly all over the front yard at home.  I could breath again without gasping.

I wondered if I could run another hill, and we did.

ABC Meme Redux

A – Age: 41
B – Bed size: Queen (surprised?)
C – Chore you hate: cleaning kitty box, ironing, loading dishwasher.  Being a domestic god is overrated.
D – Dog’s name: Midas, the Golden King.
E – Essential start your day item: the novel Yellow Waterfall, by I.P. Standing.
F - Favorite color(s): the non-poetically named base colors of red, blue and green.  When I see pretentious names like “viridian” and “chartreuse” I want to scream (in a purely masculine kind of way).
G – Gold or Silver: Platinum.
H – Height: 5′7.5″ (every half inch counts)
I – Instruments you play: piano (sorta kinda) and… never mind.
J – Job title: One of them is “Senior Consultant.”
K – Kid(s):  No(s).
L – Living arrangement: Happily partnered in the East Bay suburbia in ranch-style house with solar, pool, and more alcohol than most small-town bars.
M – Mom’s name: Mom = Betty.  Birth mother = Claudia.
N – Nicknames:  Gidon, Quijote, Delta, Soy-Boy, and the rest are on the rude side.
O – Overnight hospital stay other than birth: Tonsils, 6, and knees/traction for a week at 10.  Luckily, the rest of my growing up was hospital-free.
P – Pet Peeve: Stupidity.  Serial Killers.  Politicians.  Same difference.
Q – Quote from a film: “I gotta go, we’ve got cows!” – Twister, and No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time!” – Monty Python’s Holy Grail.
R – Right or left handed: Right, mainly, but ambidextrous with the mouse.
S – Siblings: Terri (7 years older), Tracy (2 years younger), Kyle (2 years younger), Travis (4 years younger)
T – Time you wake up: 6:20a.m.
U- Underwear: Usually.
V – Vegetable you dislike:  Tomatoes, which, uncooked, are of the Devil.
W – Workout style:  My general non-hotness testifies to my lack of a workout style.
X – X-rays you’ve had:  I agree with JulieAnn on this question – what a stupid question.
Y – Yesterday’s best moment:  I finished Neil Gaiman’s “The Graveyard Boy” and cried.
Z – Zoo favorite:  Zoos creep me out.  I don’t like animals in captivity.

Thanks, to JulieAnn for the meme motivation.