| "Truth is the truth hurts, don't you agree?
It's harder to live with the truth about you
Than it is with the lies about me"
-oRAl sex
Yesterday I didn't meet Satan. Many would count this as a good thing. There are many out there who would say that given {Satan} that anything falling outside of the set, or ~{Satan} would be a pretty good thing.
I was walking to the bus stop from work, hurpling (look it up and brag to your friends that there IS a word that rhymes with "purple") against a steady downpour. As I approached, I noticed a woman in a nice blue wool coat holding a large piece of luggage. Now, I work near an airport, so a sight such as this is not uncommon. What I did not expect was the greeting (or any greeting at all, for that matter) I received that developed into a conversation and ultimately what you are currently reading. I'm also claiming this experience for some not-so-humorous stories to be written later. I guess the other participant in yesterday's conversation could claim them as well, but something tells me the experience was not that far out of the realm of the ordinary in her world.
"Why are you scowling at me?"
This is how I was greeted. Bear in mind that walking in chilly rain and just leaving the chaos storm that is my place of employment probably didn't have me looking like I was the most huggable guy on the planet (not that "huggable" is exactly what I try to portray when waiting at most bus stops). The intended targets of most of my scowls are usually in the opposite direction from where I am moving at any given moment - I rarely approach something or someone with that expression.
My response was to cock my head and tell her, in what I thought was a calming voice, "I'm just leaving work, so I'm still thinking about things I have to do. I'm sorry if you were taken aback."
There. Conversation over. I answered her question and allayed any sense of apprehension on her part by qualifying her persecution (it was like I never left work at all). I looked over my shoulder to see if I could see the bus cresting the hill so I could get home.
Again, this woman engaged me with the question, "Where do you work that you are such an evildoer?"
Between the wind, rain, and passing vehicles, that, in fact is what I heard her say. It took me a while to even come up with a response because my mind was searching for what she really asked me. I raised my eyebrows and asked her to repeat the question. She complied, and this time I heard very clearly what she asked. I also realized that I was correct about her question this first time.
Now, I'm not certain of her prescience, but she wasn't so far out of the blue in asking such a thing. The real question should not have been where, but for whom? And yes, it does kind of make me an evildoer by proxy.
I used the standard line that I worked for a family involved in many businesses (not a lie, actually), and she nodded and seemed to accept that response.
She then inquired, "Does this bus go north or south?" This was a fair question, and so far the most sensible one. I, however, did not have any sense about me. Never be helpful unless you are truly prepared for the consequences.
"This one is headed north," I said. "Why? Where are you trying to get -"
"North," she snapped, cutting me off mid-sentence. "North out of this occultist city!"
This was certainly taking a turn for the unexpected. Like a pleasurable twist in a novel, except without as much pleasure as morbid curiosity. Occultist? I kept my own counsel on that one.
She then imparted some knowledge to me.
"You know, itis funny how people's faces change when they talk to me. They become less mean and they look less beastly."
I nodded.
"Who are you?" she asked of me. I decided to take a less than simple approach, but one that I'd hoped would be vague enough to lessen the intensity of our conversation.
"Me? My name's Jonathan, but in the larger sense, like everyone else, I'm no one."
"That's the truth," she flatly responded.
The bus finally arrived, and I let her get on ahead of me (not just because I was raised to be courteous and she was carrying luggage, but because I would have the final choice of who was sitting next to me for the ride home). She wheeled her case to the back of the bus and stood by the rear door, while I sat in one of the seats against the side and toward the front of the vehicle.
I think we both realized at the same time that there was an empty seat next to where I was, because as I noticed the vacancy and looked up, I saw her walking determinedly to sit next to me. She continued with her interrogation.
"Are you Satan? Are you a beast?"
This was not the normal line of questioning.
"I can assure you I am not," I (almost) confidently denied. Certainly the compensation and benefits package would be better than I am currently getting. Ah well, 'tis better to reign in Tucson than to serve in Albany.
"I knew someone named Jonathan once," she continued. "He was a very angry person. He always wore rings on his fingers and was one of those cursing people. I can still feel him sometimes. Are you one of those cursing people?"
Not out loud I wasn't, but trust me, deep down inside, I was cursing. Probably not the type of cursing she was implying, but cursing nonetheless.
"No, I don't like to curse," I lied, like a damned dog.
"Good. I'm not an investigator, but I spent time with the police when they were harassing me, so I picked up the investigator language," she said, almost proud of this skill and her ability to win friends and influence people.
"I'm looking for a place to go. Someplace with something to do. How are these cross streets?" she asked.
We were in one of the more desolate places in town, so I offered a suggestion.
"Well, if you stay on this bus," What was I thinking in saying this? "it will go to the transit center downtown and there's a lot to see and do."
"No. I hate it downtown. I don't want that Dragon Energy inside me. I've been a victim of seances, and I don't want that again," she imparted.
This was the day where I thought The Fates winked in my direction and let me catch the bus on time. Remind me to return the favor sometime and throw a wrench in your loom.
She decided at random to get off the bus well before we were even near anything resembling a habitable area of the city. Before she rose from her seat, she let me know a few more things.
"I'm not Satan and I'm not a beast. I don't believe in God either. This is just an occult city full of demons and I have to leave. I don't want to conform and become a beast."
The bus stopped and she got up and walked to the front to leave. As she did she turned back to me.
"Your face is long," she said, motioning to in front of her own visage and drawing her fingers together at an exaggerated point well in front of her nose, "You're going to become one of them if you let them. If you stay here long enough. If you conform."
With that, she exited and I sat for all of ten seconds before I pulled out my cell phone and sent a text message saying, "Please, whatever you do remind me to tell you a story when you see me."
All that transpired in less than ten minutes. There are many things I've left out of this tale, which I will add later. For now, take comfort in knowing one of that many different ways one can avoid meeting Satan.
x-posted | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment   |
| ...and even though it's been condensed, it may take longer to read than it was to live through the past 365.25 days.
Normally, I would take time for reflection upon the previous year on my birthday, when I would trek out into my family's old farm with a notebook as the Sun began to set. There I would wander, far removed from people to listen to the animals and appreciate the wilderness as I scrawled thoughts and feelings about what has taken place, and what (if anything) I have learned from it.
Seeing as I am far removed from rural New York, abandoned fields, long-forgotten birch forests and peat bogs are not a luxury afforded to me. Nor can I watch the deer and pheasants travel unabashedly through their natural habitat, not finding any threat in my presence.
For now, though, I have the World Wide Web, which I would argue is still removed from civilization in many respects. Out here there are furries, as well, so I guess I am not without my wilderness friends – except they are very distinct from the woodland creatures I grew up with in that the ones I used to observe in the forest were A) cute B) smaller C)served a purpose in the greater scheme of things D)expressed themselves in a way that was a mystery to people. (Actually, in having looked at furry sites, I'm going to rescind D.)
Now for the year in review. Things learned. Inspirations. Positive thoughts. Sarcasm (just a dash).
Q1:
Quarter, the first found me sick as a dog and sleepwalking to compensate for living in a small cell and waking up well before the Sun even thought about turning over in its bed, in order to greet the day and garner my fair share of abuse. I handed in my keys, and vowed never to take a job that leaves me beaten down, demoralized, and not seeing the equity/reason in life for what I am bringing home and how I feel at the end of the day. Being able to sleep comfortably and look at myself in the mirror in good conscience are big to me. I (in a sense) worked for a company that destroyed art. They sold the parts from the demolished whole. I walked way, and with the vow I made, only seemed to have partially learned my lesson.
Q2:
The second quarter started an upswing, as my long-time friend Shane started a podcast, and invited me to join in the process. In that time, we've tightened up the format, had on some really fantastic guests, and have committed ourselves for the life-cycle of the show.
About this same time, my good friend Mike pulled the Dementropy husk from the ashes (which, in a butterfly-effect sort of way is what caused Lehman Bros. to have an equal and opposite reaction). This charged all current and former staff members – and for a time, those were the two most inspired people on earth. Then we rolled over and found the cool side of the pillow. (You know the one. It really feels nice and stays that way just long enough for you to drift back into slumber.) Now, despite our numerous meetings, experience incentives, and wealth of material at out disposal (you didn't think so much went into bringing you so little, did you?), the site is not as teeming with content as I would have liked. In the following year, even if I am the only one entering Dementropy Towers to hammer out a poorly-worded article by lamplight, I will make an effort to bring you the best in quantity over quality.
Quarters 3 and 4:
The second half of the years will be taken as one section – not just because I am extremely lazy and finishing up my twelve course Sunday brunch before relaxing with the comics (that Cathy really speaks to me) and full liter lunch, but because so much overlapped in such a good way (even if it did not seem so at the time).
July saw the marriage of Dementropy co-founder and CTO Mike to his long-time companion Carolyn. This also showed us flaws in the dementronet, as I was unable to attend via laptop, nor have a wireless dance with the groom and best men. Despite this, there was fun had by all and certain images involving anatomy and a cheese grater were sent as gifts from my stronghold to his.
Things were looking up, and there weren't birds overhead aiming downward.
Around this time, two very important people found themselves again in my world, and willingly, as opposed to the usual chloroform rag method. (Mrs. Bernstein, I realize it's been a while since I've gone down to the basement to feed you, but for the last time, I'M WRITING HERE!)
Chronologically speaking, the first was S. Certainly a more rational friend from what I was used to, and unhampered by her species to give into the hysterics. Well-read and understated, I once again engaged in discussion to help define and explain the opposing species and discuss things of a more literary nature.
The second was JCF. This was initially done with much trepidation, for my tendency to “disappear” at various points in my life, leaving behind very good people in attempts to wipe my own slate. As this started, a friendship was reestablished, and even collaborations were started (we'll circle back to this in a little bit).
Now, school had once again commenced, and N. was going back to the U of A for scientific studies and endeavors which boggled my mind, and furthered her dreams. As a matter of fact, the only class I could wrap my head around was Latin, while I attended a lecture on magic in the ancient world.
It was about the end of Summer when we moved from out containment unit (with great help and welcomed assistance from Mr. And Mrs. Bergman) into our cave. Much larger and in a much more convenient location to our favorite places, the places we need to go, and the University. The neighbors are xenophobic mature punks, but once it was realized that they used to hang out with N. many (and less-sober) years ago, things warmed up (I think one of them overhearing us playing Agent Orange helped to seal the deal) a lot.
My collaborative endeavors continued, and enough words and artwork was generated to form a book. My friend, JCF, moved here to Tucson. I am very happy for this move (not just for greedy reasons of having an old and dear friend nearby) because she is growing and exploring and...stuff. She is making friends and exploring. This has inspired (or reawakened) those creative and adventurous aspects of my life that I made dormant in thinking “work, sleep, rinse, repeat” was a new and only way to live. It's not living.
It's not often that a unicorn makes itself apparent in life, but this year saw a damned near heard of them, though for a few I only saw ponies, or postage stamps, and was less than appreciative.
There was yet another spike in musical interest. Where I had holed up with noise and bands that would otherwise seem more melodic when played against the backdrop of say, the final stages of a sarin gas cult, one album came to the forefront for me. The songs show a positive maturity. Gone is the irrationality and lashing out. These were replaced with resolution and self-determination. The cynic in me (and I know I've not named the album, for I do not think I need to) will tell you that if you happen to listen to these songs, picture the singer singing these songs into the mirror, to a picture of a younger version of himself or his mates, or to an imaginary/former lover. But despite that (or maybe because of it), the words make sense, and there's little anger, save when expressed at the hampering of living as an individual.
Shortly after this, the semester ended, and the holidays began. This was my first holiday season alone with N., and it was very enjoyable. We were able to shrug off the world and be lone as a couple. It was good to get back to where we were so many years ago before everything had to be put on hold waiting for a rain of other shoes to drop (note to self: future theological article with God as centipede).
Internally, I was being less than rational. Making illusions and regretting timelines that could not be. Anger surfaced. Resentment (more than usual) welled up inside of me. At certain things I felt hurt, but in essence the only person hurting me was myself. I do apologize deeply to those I lashed out at, or seemed rash and scattered while I was figuring all of this out inside. I know these things and resolutions have led to many long-worded entries in the recent past (not that this is exactly a 180-degree turn).
It's an odd feeling when you've denied yourself for so long, and then it comes knocking on the door and floods your existence with revelations of who you really are. So many emotions and thoughts it is hard to take little sips when plunged into the deep end. Where I didn't think there was room, there were merely old abandoned spaces – self-condemned and deemed uninhabitable and unable to be explored. Now it's great to have turned the lights on and reopened the cottage, so to speak.
On a closing, and more light-hearted note, having weighed the pros and cons, and with advice from a good friend, we are now a Netflix household. I'd forgotten (until recently) how enjoyable it is to watch movies. I could rarely justify going out to the theater (I believe the last time was sometime in 2005), and usually eschewed most movies as “almost entertainment” (odd words from a screenwriter). When I was younger, I used to spend Saturdays renting a stack of movies to broaden my horizons or satisfy guilty pleasures and morbid curiosity. Movies are fun again! More importantly, life is a much more colorful place to look upon than but a year ago – not just because of the existence of such cinema epics as Microwave Massacre, but for the people I have in my life, the friends I've met (and met again), and perhaps the most natural and relationship I've been in willingly. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Catcher In The Rye | | Subject: | Travis Bickle | | Time: | 09:01 pm |
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| Pour a drink. Light up a cigarette. Stare at porn. Watch some sports or stand-up comedy. Why? We need these things to take the edge off of how overly complicated we've made our lives; or how we've damned ourselves by buying into a system where complication is the name of the game, and we discover that The Bard was only halfway right, because taxes offer very little consistency.
We are only created equal, in a world where the inequalities stand out and set us apart. Do you not see enough representation for yourself or your cause? Then you're not being loud enough. Being as loud as you can be and still find no one's listening? Then maybe you haven't found/carved the right path or you may simply not be worth it. Should there be equality? Not if you aren't willing to fight to earn it and maintain it. As a matter of fact, there shouldn't be equality at all. Each of us has strengths and flaws which define us as individuals, and consigning (resigning?) one's self to a group is only a means by which that individuality is surrendered for a grand vision that may support most of what one might believe in exchange for new and very trapping trappings.
By nature, we are hypocrites. Some may accuse someone of being a drunkard because of the person's behavior while they themselves crack their first beer for breakfast, only because of the behavioral effects exhibited. We keep our vices to ourselves. “The rest do their dying in public.”
Some may see sex as a spiritual fulfillment and simultaneously castigate others for slutty behavior, walking the line of the poly-amorous.
Some may take a stance of nonviolence toward their fellow human beings, yet indulge in a primal hunting and gathering adventure in the woods.
The examples could spiral out of control, but I refuse to ride that current in light of getting out what's pressing within my chest and cranium. So I will be hypocritical in refusing to latch onto tangents in the sea of tangents I usually put to paper or screen.
Is it all chaotic? Do all things reach a null point before they leave the starting gate? Is all our dementia really entropy to the point where all civilized and romantic overtones amount to absolutely nothing, no matter how we tart-up our singularities?
It must seem anarchic to live a life of inconsistencies, but there's no logic to pleasure and achieving peace. These are, after all is said and done, emotional longings and responses to a fluid world that we try to make structured. | | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment |
| I have been meaning to write this for a few weeks now, but now I got the time and I got the muscle, and I got the need to lay it all one the line - but perhaps with better grammar.
A little over a year ago (on August 23, 2007 to be exact), I arrived in the city of TuXon with no more than the shirt on my back, and what I could carry on the airplane, given these times of heightened awareness. I landed near the end of monsoon season, after a far too long flight, and my fiancee, N., dashed up to greet me as I was coming down the makeshift runway. Thus began the second time we started our lives together, and for a time, it was good.
When I left Xbany, I wiped a board. All debts were settled. That scene where the hero walks away from the exploding building to carry on his life had played out, though I am far less of a hero.
I did what was normal (got a job, experienced a new city, etc.) and N. got herself enrolled in college (I should put a "Go Wildcats!" in here somewhere). Despite living conditions and the conditions by which we arrived at those living conditions, we did not kill each other, or leave a ten mile crater around us. We grew close and stronger. More supportive of each other. To hell and back - again. Back to back, making our way through adversity (though I get to play Farah Fawcett).
Now, a year later, the state of things is on an upswing, and we're planning on riding that vine all the way.
Our good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Bergman have moved out here; I have reconnected with good friends; Shane and I have been motivating each other to continue our pursuit of media; The Dementrostaff have reunited under the banner of our web site to entertain the unfortunate souls who find our site (if not ourselves); I find myself collaborating with a great artist and friend; and N. is back in school, ever the mad scientist, never ceasing to amaze me with her ability to not only handle and take care of me, but balance the household finances and higher learning, as well (I love you).
All said and done, we are happy. We are soon to move into a place of our choosing for the first time since we met, and will continue to grow together, appreciate and live life, and not give a damn about what the world throws at us, because we'll throw it right back ten-fold. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| With the exception of two people mentioned in this article, I see no reason why everyone else who was directly involved shouldn't be called out on going against the oaths they took to uphold the positions for which they were elected.
Obviously Wexler had no problem in speaking his mind when faced with jeopardizing the standing of the Democratic Party during an election year. Certainly the little guy from Ohio had no problem, considering he's been spearheading this whole movement.
Mr. Conyers, who threatened you? You used to have some integrity.
The following is your very own glimpse into what amounted to nothing more than a bonding session in which a bunch of Democrats (with the exception of two, I still maintain), passed around a (very limp) talking stick to pout:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/07/25/AR2008072503077.html | | comments: Leave a comment |
| To touch upon a couple of points made in the last entry, our podshow is running strong. Each week, Shane and I have been trying something new, and so far between the format and utilizing this new media, we are really excited with what we are able to do. It's as if technology has finally caught up to what we used to talk about almost twenty years ago. If you are curious, check us out at:
The Libertarian Dime
The second item is that the Dementropy staff is back and updating their own site tri-whimsically. This is the best looking design yet, in my opinion, thanks to the efforts of Mike McKasty, who is taking a semi-sabbatical to plan his wedding. He has managed to fully integrate the site so that staff members can easily post their media (be it words, video, audio, etc.). Be sure to give it a look every once in a while to see the latest updates:
Dementropy
In other news, this week marks my fourth anniversary with N. as well as her birthday. Details to follow after this week's celebration(s). | | comments: Leave a comment |
| Things are slowly changing here.
The first half of the semester is over, and N. has made a heck of an academic performance, despite a rocky beginning with external forces and incidents that would have made most other people give up on further education.
We have a plan to move in June. Be this a house or an apartment is still up in the air. The point is it will be OUR CHOICE. This means it will be comfortable, private, and relatively quiet (mainly so we can enjoy not hearing anything when studying or writing, and conversely we can make noise without disturbing people). One's abode/environment does greatly impact one's outlook on things.
I have jumped on this 2.0 thing the kids are all talking about. First, social networking sites, and now my good friend Shane asked me to help co-host a podcast. Our first episode can be found here. We are going to try and keep these to weekly episodes, cover a variety of political and philosophical topics (with some humor), and also learn about recording in the process (at least I will). This should be fun, and I encourage you all to listen.
Lastly, a brave soul decided to look under the carpet and bring out ashes and give them life.
Back in 2000 there was an accretion of writers/musicians/composers/artists forming not just on-line but in person as well. A very talented (if not lazy) group of people who once had a web site that went through various incarnations and more logo changes than content updates. Somewhere along the lines, updates stopped, real life happened (to a few of us), splinter projects were undertaken, people geographically relocated, login and server information was lost, and a bunch of other things.
I am here to report, that this particular group (plus a few more) are coming together again, with a web site, on its own server. This time, the objects and minds will not stay at rest. The potential will become kinetic.
Your "Editor" shall return. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| I dare you to download and play this game.
Here is a screenshot:
Look familiar? All the tricks are where they are supposed to be, just like you remember. Your game theory will be spot on - your game practice will yield results that will make you not only want to (read: have to) buy a new monitor (and not because of the intense graphics), but it will also make your job (whatever it may be) seem that much easier, the screaming children's voices seem that much softer, and ritual Sepuku nothing more than a gentle caress.
Enjoy! | | comments: Leave a comment |
| And when they ask us who we went through to get the loan for our house, I'll tell them we went here. They compete so you don't have to.
| | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| Gold on gold embroidered bow ties
Distinguished 'stache
Robert Goulet is dead
The crooner's left the Vegas lounge
Grecian formula on his head
Reciting lines from Camelot
Robert Goulet is dead
Sunrise, Sunset
The chain-smoking brides file past his tomb
They still toss their wet bloomers
Across the glittery room
Alone in a rhinestoned box
The 'stache
Robert Goulet is dead
Sunrise, Sunset, Sunset | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Subject: | 3 for 3 | | Time: | 10:12 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/charitycam/blackbox/scared.gif) Anxious |
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| Stacking the deck paid off for once.
2007 MICROSODE SCRIPTS CONTEST WINNERS:
TRAGIC DONUT (Jefferson Briggs)*
RACHEL’S WARD (Rebecca Angel Maxwell)
COIN FLIP ROAD TRIP (Jonathan Farr)*
THE HAIKU KING (The Unknown Filmmaker)
AMERICAN PARTIZAN (Tobias Seamon)
THE LOST CHILDREN OF THE COMPUTER CAMP (Dorius Matsumi)
FOUR (T.George McCardle & Henry Slattery)
CLUMSY ROBOTS (Errol Farr)*
5 ALPHA BEATDOWN (John Brodeur)
FUNNY HOW THE SEASON’S CHANGE (Josh Turner)
Tomorrow it's the production meeting (8 a.m. does not jive with the "writer's mentality" unless it implies bedtime). Being professional is really going to make my liver jealous. By Sunday (also another morning meeting) I wouldn't be surprised to come home and find a "Dear John" letter from my liver telling me it's found a Larry Hagman sugar daddy.
Until then, keep watching the skies!
* = Collaborative Efforts | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| Viddy well...
We made it. We hve a number of entries that cut the mustard for the Ed Wood Film Festival. Top 25 sort of stuff, according to the e-mail a few of in our merry band received.
Now it's just writing up synopses and adhering a rating to the microsodes, and then we wait and see how they turn out in the studio.
Those in the Xbany area are going to finally be able to view our work!
"Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angels' trumpets and devils trombones! You are invited!" | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| Read this.
I'm an ignorant bastard. However, I would like a logical explanation to the following:
A) What (the FUCK) is a "genuine" goblin?
B) In a paragraph or less, tell me the origin and history of "The Witchcraft Suppression Act."
Award-winners will receive a year's supply of Dementrobucks (all rights very reserved, and all liability EXTREMELY limited), and a picture you probably wouldn't show someone on a first date. | | comments: 4 comments or Leave a comment |
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somnophage's journal![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/charitycam/blackbox/thoughtful.gif){kind=small}
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accomplished