THE WEEK BEHIND : Duplass, Sedaris, Norsemen.

Things that are uncountable:
The number of times a week Donald J. Trump lies, throws somebody under the bus, empty-brags, or embarasses the office of the Presidency.

The number of times a week our youngest son commits an act with great forethought and deliberation while simultaneously announcing what he's doing with a repeated series of "Uh-oh. Uh-oh. Uh-oh..."

Accidents happen.

Speaking of accidents: serendipity was a spelling word on our daughter's test today. So it seemed like we should watch the trailer for the 2001 Kate Beckinsale / John Cusack rom-com. So we did.

Cocaine green.
What does your child salivate over for a snack? Let me tell you about our two boys: separated by six and a half years, united in their hilarious addiction to frozen peas for a snack. Yeah. Frozen peas. The green crack snack.

Halloween happened.
A cowgirl. A teenager trying to act all cool. A panda. Or a cow. Hard to tell.

They made a sugar fortune and have enjoyed little of the bounty; fortunately we do not have a security system effective enough to keep me out of their hard-worked for treasures.

Ejvindr has spent the last two days organizing his candy into various buckets, backpacks, and bags. Over. And over and over and over. It has not been communicated to him that there's candy inside these brightly wrapped little objects. Also, learning what candy is has not been part of his education yet, so he is playing with something and has no idea what's actually inside. If he only knew. I have forbade the children, under penalty of throwing away all candy and frozen peas, that he is not to learn the identity of his toys (i.e. candy). Yet. Not yet. The floodgates will open someday. But not yet.

Also, my little sister the older made some pretty nifty costumes for her fam. Straight from How to Train Your Dragon. Pretty cool, pretty crafty.

Standard time.
The clock changes this weekend. Standard time, I think. Fall back?

Phone numbers have seven digits because - at least in the days when people needed to remember phone numbers - seven is the number of digits that most people can carry in their short- to mid-term memory. That's doable. Know what's hard?

Remembering one thing when there's a total of two options. Like : just take a left at the stop sign.

You start second-guessing yourself. I don't take a left, right? Right is right. Not left, right. 

All of a sudden a simple thing becomes extraordinarily complicated. Such is my life. Complicating simple tasks and simplifying complex ideas.

My mom, two books
Several months ago, my mom gave me two books within a couple weeks of each other.

One is called Like Brothers. It's by the Duplass brothers, who really are brothers and filmmakers. It is inspiring and wonderful and these brothers love each other so much, like I love mine.

The other is called Calypso. It's by David Sedaris, one of my favorite writers, and it is dark and hilarious and he writes about his husband and family and all the love and frustration he has in his interactions with them. Also, he talks about American phrases he loathes, such as : it is what it is.

She gave them to me because she thought I'd like them. She has a knack for that. Giving books that somehow are there when I need them. I needed these ones.

Things I hate
Walking across a kitchen floor in my bare feet and stepping in breakfast cereal that some idiot has spilled.

Things I hate more than that
Walking across a kitchen floor in my socks and stepping in sticky rice that some idiot has spilled.

Things that weren't horrible
A) I didn't tip my riding mower over when I made a poor decision to take it diagonally across a hill.

B) A cloud of particular interest flew by around 11am.

C) My dad called last night and said this:

Joey, find the show Norsemen on Netflix. Just watch fifteen minutes. I think you'll be glad. 

I did so, because he's my dad. And I could tell it would make him happy to know that I'd checked it out. So I did. I watched it, as did Becca, until she fell asleep.

I laughed so good. One of the funniest first-episodes of a show I'd seen. He was so right. I can't wait to watch it with him.

The phrase "Python-esque humor" in television is a little like saying "Beatle-esque sounding" in music. It's so diluted it means little anymore. The reality is, we should agree that pretty much all good pop music and rock and roll owes a debt to the Beatles, in the same manner that pretty much all droll and properly-offending television programmes owe a debt to Terry Gilliam, John Cleese, and the crew.

Norsemen, after one half hour episode, has the Python spirit. Its own tone, its own thing for sure, but a proper entrant in the well-done, played-straight classic telly shows.

D) Becca made a really savory, chunky, spicy soup for Friday supper.
E. Magdelana has been baking up a storm. Pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, all sorts of delicacies.

Things I got worked up about this week and might have given long monologues on as a result

1. The Renaissance. Yeah, the one that started in northern Europe in the 1400s and was a big factor in the ensuing Age of Exploration, for better or worse. Probably worse for the 80-90% of indigenous populations that were wiped out as a result. 
2. How much more I like Hungarian composer Franz Liszt than Hungarian composer Bela Bartok.
3. Prime factorization. I got into a bit of a competition with Magdelana as I got engrossed in one of her lessons. Addicting. Quick: prime factorization of 27. A: 3x3x3 Ready for the next one? Try 428. 
4. Primogeniture. The concept of wealth and land being passed to the oldest son and its impact on Spain and other European countries as they ran out of land and needed to find more somewhere...hello, Americas! 
5. There's other stuff. I get worked up a lot these days. For example, I got worked up during the last two innings of one of the World Series games. That was the only baseball I watched all year, but true to form, Johannes, that precious angelic long-haired lad, wanted to know why I was so obsessed with baseball and why it was more important than tucking him in. 

"I guess you'd rather watch your baseball than lay by me,"

he said as he trudged off to bed.

What a masterful guilt trip. I typically loathe them, but you gotta give props where they're due.

Again: two innings of the World Series. I think the Sox beat the Dodgers. 

I worked this week, on my work days - and nights - in the dungeon.
Because that's where I work. It gets cold, and I saw a lot of rain through my dirty cracked window at the top of our mountain.

Listened to a bunch of Chvrches and a lot of Liszt this week.

We are alive, and there is love. We have love, we have loud music, and we have a lot of art supplies. And each other. So another week in the life ledger.

My little sister, the littlest.
She sent me a text this week in response to something I wrote, and her response included these two lines:

"...reading what you write feels like another way to breathe."

and

"I love how sparingly you use commas."

I love, I love it, I love her and I love that she observes and articulates what she observes. It matters.

It means so much to have someone acknowledge and respond to what you do when you do something that you care about.

BOOKS: BORGES THE LIBRARY LOTTERY OF BABEL.

There are few works I enjoy re-reading (i.e. reading again, and again) than the short fiction and essays of Jorges Luis Borges, with its narrative möbius loops and inimitable worlds-within-worlds constructions and his fascination with dreams, enigmas, paradox, space, and infinity. For me, his writings are a paradigm-bending balance of entertainment and intellectual challenge. I'm not legally recommending his Labyrinths: Selected Stories & Other Writings because I cannot in good conscience recommend something I understand so little of. But, if you like to get deliberately lost in superb short literary fiction and you have somehow overlooked this incredible, original Argentine writer and his absurdist metaphysical tales concerning illusion and reality...then you might not find a half hour of your life wasted to try him out.

Happy last day of October 2014, world. This exact day on this exact year will, in most realities, never occur again. But technically, I'm not a scientist.

I don't party much anymore, but when I party, I party hard. Here with some of my fave party peeps (I'm on the left) and enough cookies to make an elf fall into a coma.

"Love you!"

they called as we left.

And I love them too.

P-cred: @countessbecca

CONVERSATIONS. sad books, adaptations, steinbeck.

Reading anything good this week?
I asked the bookstore clerk.

Let's see...
he said.
Not really. Just read The Accident. I don't recommend it though. It's very sad.

Oh.
I said.
It sounds sad.

And...
he continued.
I'm reading Herman Hess. And...I just finally read Steinbeck's King Arthur!

Nice!
I said.
I devoured every Arthurian story and book I could get ahold of when I was younger. And now it sounds like a big screen adaptation is in the works.

I don't know about that.
he said
Those don't usually work out very well.

Yeah.
I said.
Sounds like it could be a six-film or so deal, but it sounds like there could be some decent people involved. They're looking to cast Charlie what's-his-face, the main guy from Sons of Anarchy.

Well, it might be alright then.
he said.

Yeah, maybe.
I said.
Sons of Anarchy is too violent for my taste.
____

I will definitely try out anything King Arthur though.

FIVE THINGS I DIG THIS WEEK.

1a. Angelo Badalementi's timeless, haunting title composition for David Lynch's Blue Velvet. Never grow weary of it.

1b. Sea of Bees doing an ultra-catchy, life-affirming cover of Jason "Grandaddy" Lytle's Get Up And Go. Breathtaking, and lyrically, a bit of what I needed: get up and go / you can do it / everything's gonna be alright.

3c. I have a dream. A dream that someday Billy Idol is going to blow my mind with an unbelievably fantastic entire album. As opposed to an unbelievably fantastic single like Rebel Yell or Cradle of Love every fifteen years. I have a dream. In the midnight hour.

2. Red Rising. Pierce Brown's debut novel is a wondrous romp that has drawn references to Ender's Game, Hunger Games, and some accolades from notables in the sci-fi world. The premise isn't earth shattering: man-boy rises from the slave pits of Mars to seek vengeance, then justice on the Society that controls the universe and executed his wife. The bang comes from all the details, relationships, and plot turns that turn what could have been a generic story into a completely captivating joyparade of shifting alliances and strategic maneuvering, all set against a futuristic neo-Greek & Roman inspired civilization that thrives on order, control, obedience, and honor. It wasn't until the last chapter that I realised it was the first in a trilogy...and the second book isn't out until 2015. Aah! 

Side note: Pierce Brown's mom is the first female board member of American Apparel. As Instagram buddies, I know this.

2b. It still boggles my mind that public libraries are REAL. Places you can go, find books (and lots more) you like, scan a card, and voila! Yours to keep. For free. For a while. How can you not utilize something so amazing...and FREE?!

Fort Vancouver Library System, you rock. Seriously. And the crew at the Washougal Community Library? Just double their salaries now, please. Seriously. Jewels.

3. Somebody said this week:

"Joseph, you're looking trim!"

At first, I thought she was talking about my freshly shaved face from a week ago, but then I realised she meant my figure. I started to accept the intended compliment, but then realised I was wearing a baseball hat, which was pushing my hair down on the sides, which in turn was flattening out the side of my body and perpetuating the illusion I was more trim than I am. So I had to, with regret, decline the compliment. But it was a nice thought, and now I'm toying with the idea of getting trim sometime. But it makes me a little nervous to make any deep life changing commitments to myself this far from New Years, so...yeah, I'm going to wait on adding in exercisey stuff into my life for the moment. 

3b.

On the one hand, ventriloquists terrify me. On the other hand, I'm ready to turn it into a career, cold turkey. How do you get started? The children are not impressed with my early efforts. Also, how in the world do you get around those P's and B's without closing your lips? Kinda feel like a dummy.

4. 

Daddy?

he said, laying in bed.

I'm scared, because I always have nightmares.

I'm sorry buddy.

I said, patting his arm. 

Are you okay? Let's come up with something happy for you to think about while you're falling asleep. Okay?

Okay,

he said.

So will you tell me a story? A story about a minotaur with a battle axe, and a snake that's trying to sneak up on him, and there's robbers who are trying to get them and they have poison...

4b.

What are you doing?

I asked them.

We're building a gate.

They said.

Oh.

I said.

Why are you building a gate across our driveway?

Because.

they said.

We're building a gate across the driveway so Mama can't leave. We don't ever want her to leave. 

That is...really sweet.

I said.

But how am I going to get out for work?

It's okay,

They said.

We'll make sure you can get out.

5. There are people who like Jerry Lewis movies. And people who don't. And sadly,  many who have no idea who he is or was. 

I will tell you my new favourite Jerry Lewis film, one that had somehow slid under my radar until recently: 1957's The Delicate Delinquent. Plenty of his cringeworthy manic mumbling, non-sentence finishing and slapstick physical humor...but also a surprisingly prescient, thoughtful, and all-ages accessible narrative dealing with cops, criminals/juvenile delinquents, and rehabilitation. Archaic on the surface (cops walking beats, 50s juvenile gang cliches, gender pigeonholing), but some tenderness and moments of provoking thought as well. And, plenty of scenes the kids were laughing at loud really loud (LOLRL) at. Good flick.

5b. 

You know what I feel like doing tonight?

I asked my wife; our smiles a little road weary after a long week.

I just feel like watching some television. Just laying on the couch and...watching television. If I could choose something to do, that would probably be it. 

In like a diving peregrine, she swooped; her voice reminiscent of jet engine in front of a giant megaphone; the guilt and betrayal screeched into every syllable:

DADDY! HOW DARE YOU?! BOOKS ARE WAY BETTER THAN TELEVISION! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SAID THAT!!

I hung my head, and smiled a little, and television never happened. 

But tomorrow night...tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow.

The End.

FIVE THINGS I THINK ARE INCREDIBLY COOL TODAY.

1a. Eleanor & Park. Read on the heels of my wife's finishing it. An utterly unique teenage love story set in the 1980s between two bus riding, comic book reading, music obsessed opposites who trip into like and then love and experience all the hurdles and complications that go along with trying to make things work. Hilarious, brutal, sweet, poignant, thought-provoking, unforgettable. Thanks Countess - and for the original recommend from our favourite library assistant 
Nice writing & reading, Rainbow Rowell.

1b. Dr. Seuss's The Sneetches. Like many of his, such a whimsical and powerful story, this time about fitting in, keeping up with the Joneses, and looking on the inside...but the recurring question is regarding the ethical motivation of Sylvester McMonkey McBean. He helps them learn a valuable lesson...and he also takes off with all their money. So is he a humanistic capitalist taking advantage of an opportunity to mutually benefit multiple parties; one of those parties being himself? Or is he a Barnum-esque rogue out for a scam and a buck? Or is he a deeper villain than I give him credit for and any benefit he brought to the Sneetches was merely tertiary and incidental?
I don't know, and I probably kept our son up too late reading this at bedtime and trying to figure out an answer. He's not sure either.

2. Old motorcycles with sidecars.

3. Minotaurs. I have told the children the tale of Theseus and Ariadne so many times, but it never gets old. I've actually written my own modernistic neo-magical realistic interpretation of it.

4. Watching people share food with their pets. I realise what I'm about to say will probably be offensive to some, but I'm going to plow ahead anyway and get this out: I think it's gross to share food back and forth with most animals. I've seen one too many four-leggeds drinking out of a toilet, or eating other creatures' fecal matter* (or their own) to like the idea of sharing my food with a living being whose ideas about personal hygiene are different than mine. Do I eat sloppy seconds off my children's slobber-infested, mashed-up mess of a plate on occasion? Yes. And that's probably gross to some** of you, and also allows you to screech at my hypocrisy. So be it.
But In the same sense that I enjoy watching other people do dangerous things that I have no intention of actually doing, I also enjoy watching (in this particular case) a ripped t-shirt man stand outside his truck window and swap licks of a Popsicle with his dog. Who, in fairness to him***, appeared to have a greater interest in bathing than his owner. Far be it from me to judge.****
Please don't unfriendly me over this. If there is something I'm completely missing about this scenario then let me know.

5a. Chevelle. The Chicago triad of brothers I used to listen to a decade ago but somehow slipped off my radar and are now way back on it. Heavy, experimental but melodic, feels like they picked up where Tool was a while back and kept on trying stuff out, but with a slightly less nihilistic worldview. Why not jump into them with a listen to one of their hits a while back? : The Red. A worthy companion to Jimmy Eat World's The Middle.

5b. Wanting hot weather, and then actually enjoying it when it does get hot instead of grumbling about how it's too hot. I think it's cool to be happy about something you've wished for. If you've never wished for hot weather while we're stuck in the middle of winter, then you're absolved. But if you've grumbled about the cold, and wanted it to get hot, and then when it gets hot, you grumble about the heat, well, that probably represents some sort of karmic dissatisfaction with life that you should figure out. Or else just buy one of those hats with a battery powered fan on it.
Mazel tov.
____

*poop
**all?
***her?
****sorry, am judging heavily

FIVE THOUGHTS ON AIR TRAVEL.

1. Personally, I think smoking on planes isn't such a great idea, but as a non-smoker I'm not sure how much my opinion counts. I think it's strongly suggested that you don't, and I don't think you actually can, except maybe in the bathrooms, but I'm not sure, and that might not be a brilliant idea either.

2. I always get scared* when I see flight attendants handing drinks to passengers over open laptops. I haven't seen one spill and wipe out a MacBook yet, but I'm sure it happens. So what's the liability?

3. I've noticed that First Class passengers tend to use profanity more than others. I haven't scientifically checked this. It might be a classic scenario, as Dr. Leo Marvin might suggest, of latent guilt overcompensation onset. I don't know, I'm only halfway through DSM-5.

2b. My special flying drink is:
To very nicely beg the flight attendant for TWO drinks:
- 1 - orange juice, with seven ice cubes
- 2 - Bloody Mary mix with nine ice cubes, which is basically spicy V-8, but better, and healthier.

2c. Electronic boarding passes are so great.

2d. Sometimes I unlatch my seatbelt sneakily after they tell everyone to latch them, and so far I haven't fallen out, but I guess, like their preference for no smoking, it's probably best to follow their suggestions, although I still don't understand why school buses don't have seatbelts.

4a. I don't like being gone long from my wife, but when I am, I love talking to her on the phone because it reminds me of how much I love her voice. Seriously, she has a great voice to listen to, and if you need a pick-me-up some day, then I can message you an audio file of her saying something funny, or reading passages from a Fannie Flagg book.

4b. I missed my children terribly when I was away; a couple days** after I had left, my son realised I was gone and started asking about me. Upon my return, he clutched his beloved mother tightly and asked if my next trip could please be for a thousand days.

"Little butthead,"
I muttered quietly.***

3b. COMPLETELY SHALLOW THOUGHT PROCESS AS PEOPLE HEAD DOWN THE AISLE AND I LOVINGLY HOARD THE EMPTY SEAT NEXT TO ME:
"Please please please please please please please NOT that person...or that one...or that one."

3bii. PLAYLIST, reading:
- Henry James "Brooksmith"
- E.M. Forster "The Other Side of the Hedge"
- V.S. Pritchett "The Saint"
- Dorothy Parker "The Standard of Living"

3c. PLAYLIST, listening on the descent:
- Deafheaven "Vertigo"
- Omar Souleyman "Warni Warni"
- David Bowie "The Next Day"
- Phosphorescent "Ride On/Right On"

1b. If I was Supreme Airline Travel Chief, I might consider making it a requirement that people shower before flying, though unfortunately that would do little to help me as I write this; the gentleman two rows over obviously has a very busy and successful life and has been unable to schedule in a bathe for the last week or five.

5. Thank you, Orville and Wilbur.

*nervous
**hours
***not quietly

DYSTOPIA: BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS

I read some books very slowly, like Sophie's World, anything Michael Chabon, and Guns, Germs & Steel, because there's so much I want to absorb, understand, enjoy, and retain.

I read some books at a medium pace, like anything David Sedaris, the A Series of Unfortunate Events series, and many Wired articles because they're a blend of digestible, entertaining content and occasional deeper insights to savor and relish.

And I read some books incredibly swiftly, because they are just plain fun and non-taxing. In the last six months, I have raced through portions of six different Young Adult-ish (YA) dystopian-ish themed books. Below, there is one that surpassed expectations greatly, one that surpassed expectations slightly, two that met expectations exactly, one that mildly disappointed, and one that severely disappointed. Let me know what you think. Also, one of my library peeps recommended The 100. Anyone familiar with it?

- Legend / Marie Lu

- The Kill Order / James Dashner

- Divergent / Veronica Roth

- The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones / Cassandra Clare

- The Eye of Minds / James Dashner

- The Lightning Thief / Rick Riordan (not quite dystopia, unless you're the protagonist in the story...) :)

There you have it. I have become a bit of an expert in this particular area. Thoughts or other recommendations?

REDHANDED LOSER, IN WHICH ETERNITY IS TWO MINUTES, GIVE OR TAKE A BILLION.

I love to read, and I also have children, 
and those two things are not always ultra-compatible,
in a simultaneous sense.

Fortunately, I have been proud, up until today, of my innovative solution,
which is basically to simultaneously work my way through a 
combination of 6-8 books and magazines strategically placed throughout 
the house so that at any given point, I am within twenty feet or so from something to read,
whenever there are moments to be stolen,
or borrowed.

I know, multitasking at its worst. But I am also a rather fast reader and synthesize large amounts of information rapidly, so it's a solution that lets me
rip through content quickly. Malcolm Gladwell for two minutes here, ninety seconds of Wired there, four minutes of Speaker for the Dead, skim through a page of Sophie's World...

...I'd like to think my time estimates are accurate. However...
my theory and solution got shredded earlier:

BATHROOM SINK.
Washing my hands,
where I had a copy of a Neil Gaiman / Al Sarrantonio anthology* 
splayed open a foot away.
Scrubbing and QUICKLY soaking in the 
relentless verb-laden prose of Chuck Palahniuk for a few seconds,

while I quickly washed my hands
for somewhere between two and twenty minutes,

and then
my little girl,
my exasperating spy,
my accountability partner for truth and accuracy in measurements and time-keeping,

burst in,
burst in,
hurtled in,

and,
eyes widening in shock; melodramatic horror,
arms spread up and wide in universal frustration language,

& shrieked:

"Daddy!
is a BOOK REALLY 
more important than 
YOUR CHILDREN?!?! 

You are taking SO LONG!"

I hung my head,
shame a little,
but mostly disappointment
at being caught
and called out.

Masterful. 

Just masterful,
our protege,
evolving spymaster and life coach.

Tonight, I guess I will try to finish.
Shouldn't take more than three or four more minutes.

I am tired of being outwitted by children.
It's my turn to win.
Probably tomorrow,
or a tomorrow in a future decade.

Goodnight, Mr. Palahniuk, and Messieurs Gaiman and Sarrantonio, and 
children.

Sleep well, and long,
childless writers.

____

*Stories (2011)

Ender Wiggins at Cascade Station

I accidentally fell asleep too early last night
So I woke up mid-night to read Ender's Game
To re-read for the first time in decades one of the great original tales 
in science fiction.
The story of a six-year old tactical genius, the adults trying to control him,
and his knowledge* that he is the only person in the universe who can save humanity from intergalactic extinction.

Might be another late night.
____

*technically, he doesn't realise this while he's six 

NASSIM NICHOLAS TALEB VS. THE BLACK DRAGON.

Driving by PDX airport, Blackalicious's Sky is Falling scoring my commute, watching aeroplanes soar overheard, I had the brief thought that it would be a different kind of world if those aircraft were instead carnivorous birds, intent on hunting down automobiles, unicyclers, and daydreaming footwalkers. It would be a different world, I think, and I think also I would be a hero in that world, mostly due to the fact that I tend to look at the sky a lot.

And really, how can you look up in the sky and NOT believe in intelligent life tucked away amidst the billions of trillions of planets within the zillions of other galaxies. It's not a big stretch to imagine that there could potentially someday appear giant bird-like creatures the size of 747s who feed on combustible engines and the humans inside. Do I occasionally watch a little sci-fi, or as I call it: "creative science"? Emphatic maybe. Because it is about acknowledging possibilities. Imaginative science that subtracts a little conventional wisdom and adds a bit of magic. Or as I call it, "unexplained science."

I was talking to a tiny person* recently about dragons, and they asked me if I thought dragons were real.

I said: "Well, have you ever seen a dragon?"

"No."

"My point exactly," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean," I said, "is that you can't really prove the non-existence of something. Does that make sense?"

"Not really."

I asked: "Okay, have you read Nassim Nicholas Taleb's 'The Black Swan?"

"No."

"Well, there might be parts that are challenging for six-year olds, but essentially the idea is that for a long time, people didn't think there was any such thing as a black swan. But then...a black swan was sighted, thus upending centuries of commonly-accepted truth. Does that make sense?"

"Sort of."

"It's just the simple version. I don't know if Mr. Taleb believes in dragons or not. But all I know is that I've never not seen a dragon, so I'm not satisfied that they don't exist somewhere. What about you?"

"I think they're pretend."

"Maybe they are, but can you prove it?"

"Umm...no."

"My point exactly. Shall we watch some cinema tonight?"

"Yeah!!"

"Okay, how about either Horton Hears a Who or Fight Club?

"What's Fight Club?"

"It addresses themes of consumerism, male angst, and stuff like that. There's no dragons. Maybe it's not a good one for six-year olds, now that I think about it."

"I want to see Fight Club!"

"Nah. How about Horton Hears a Who or Pulp Fiction?"

"What's Pulp Fiction?"

"You know what, let's just go on a walk instead. See if we can spot some dragons, or giant carnivorous birds."

"Nooo! I want to watch some cinema!!"

"Let's just go on a walk. We can chat about antifragility. Sound good?"

"No."

So we went on a walk.**
____

*child.

**and then watched a bit of Horton, which I think was the best choice for six-year olds, although I have frequently wished Horton was a dragon instead of elephant.


***the above is the compositing of two conversations separated by Time, which is a different scientific concept I'd like to address soon and straighten out some misconceptions.


****I blatantly fabricated one quote, but I think it helps the idea be taken more seriously so we'll leave it.

Blackalicious

The Sky is Falling

Blazing Arrow

2002

BOOKS: Ready Player One

Made the mistake of crawling on the couch first thing this morning and starting Ready Player One, a poppier Phillip K. Dick-inspired novel set set in a dystopian future and filled with '80s cultural references and a giant Easter Egg hunt. Totally hooked. 

Why must responsibilities, obligations, and human interaction interfere with a good book? Couch, I'll be back...sometime. (Merci, Jeffrey Townsend, for getting it on my radar).

Explorer, DJ, Inventor, Spy. 
Not necessarily in that order.
Our game is life,
and life is a game
and we are ready.
At least for the analog version.
Anybody got a hack for extra lives?