Notes From Limboland

28 Days LOL-ter - Day 9: North Korea's Finest

2010-02-09T19:53:00.000-05:00

moar funny pictures

I... I don't even know where to go with this. Though the picture itself does kind of speak volumes on its own, doesn't it?

But, sweet Jesus, I'm not getting that image out of my head anytime soon.

Coming tomorrow: the latest trend for pet owners. It's not what you think!

Sadly, it never is.

28 Days LOL-ter - Day 8: The Return

2010-02-08T22:11:00.001-05:00

Did you know that I was taking the weekend off? Yeah, neither did I. Lame. I blame my sick child, because I'm just that kind of an asshole.

Anyway, that means I've got four - count 'em, four - LOLs to make up to get back on track with this ridiculous gimmick. How will he do it? you' may be wondering. Oh, my sweet, wayward, utterly disloyal children. Doubt not, for my will is strong.

And my backlog of crappy LOLs is long.

But let's start off with new material, shall we?

28 Days LOL-ter - Day 5: Wrapped up like a douche

In honor of the recently concluded teabagging tea party convention...

moar funny pictures

Dopey and Crazy, two of the leading cheerleaders for the angry, selfish, horribly deluded teabaggers. God bless 'em, because I sure as hell ain't going to.

28 Days LOL-ter - Day 6: It's your loveable furry old pal

moar funny pictures

Aw, who the hell am I kidding? Like they've come up with anything half as good.

28 Days LOL-ter - Day 7: I swear, this is not racist

moar funny pictures

And it's not racist because I say it's not, and that's all that matters for the internets.

28 Days LOL-ter - Day 8: For The Wife

Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!

moar funny pictures

And that should be enough LOLage for one evening. Please bus your tables.

Friday Random Ten: Way To Go, Genius!

2010-02-05T13:01:00.000-05:00

Wow, haven't done one of these for a while.

I'm home today - G., my 3-year-old girl, has a nasty cold and had an absolutely shitty night's sleep, as the bags under my eyes can attest - so I thought to myself... well, here's a little transcript:

JP: Hey, self, what's shakin'?

Self: Not much. Do people really still say that?

JP: Say what?

Self: "What's shakin'?" It's got a disturbing retro vibe, and not in a good way.

JP: I'm a trend-setter. We're often misunderstood whilst performing the setting of trends.

Self: Uh-huh. (Pause) So, um, you wanted to, uh, talk, or something?

JP: Oh, yeah! I just had this great thought! Why don't we -

Self: - use iTunes Genius for the FRT on the blog today?

JP: Yeah! How'd you know?

Self: Dude. I'm you.

JP: Weird. (beat) You're not going to go all Tyler Durden on me, are you?

Self: Aaaand, we're done.

Scene.

Yes, I have a rich and fulfilling life, full of meaning and import. This above is not evidence of that, mind you - I just thought you should know.

And now, the (Genius) list:

Based on: "Hangover Cure for Humanity" by Spouse

1. "The Kids Don't Stand A Chance" - Vampire Weekend

2. "Time Won't Let Me Go" - The Bravery

3. "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi" - Radiohead

4. "You Only Live Once" - The Strokes

5. "Shiver (Live)" - Coldplay

6. "Girlfriend" - Phoenix

7. "The Heinrich Maneuver" - Interpol

8. "Trust Me" - The Fray

9. "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" - Vampire Weekend

10. "High and Dry" - Radiohead

And the bonus: "Crooked Teeth" - Death Cab For Cutie

Whoa. You can really see The Wife's musical influences here. Interpol? I didn't even know we owned any Interpol. And Vampire Weekend - I like them well enough, but I would never ever in a million years pick them up on my own. Same with Phoenix, methinks. Still, a decent list. Only one I might question is the inclusion of The Fray, but other than, good on you, Genius!

Now, how about some video?

Spouse:

Death Cab:

Now! Feast! And be merry! Or whatever else it is you do on a Friday - I'm a bit out of touch.

28 Days LOL-ter: Day 4 - Jason Voorhees it is, then

2010-02-04T22:13:00.002-05:00

Because I'm tired, and Fringe wasn't as good as I was expecting it to be.

moar funny pictures

Good night! Tip your waitstaff!

28 Days LOL-ter: Day 3 - Chinese Democracy

2010-02-03T21:06:00.002-05:00

moar funny pictures

Man, who could have predicted that, twenty-some-odd years later, fucking Slash would be the one to emerge from this group with his career (and liver, for all we know) intact?

(For you damn kids who maybe weren't yet a twinkle in your fathers' loins, that's Guns 'N' Roses, and for a time they were the biggest motherfucking band on earth. No, seriously. And many, many people - myself included, I am ashamed to admit - wanted to be just like them. Yeah, I don't really have an explanation for it: this is the decade that foisted both Warrant and Spandau Ballet on us, after all. If that don't get you scratching your head...)

This one, for the record, was the first captioned pic of mine that got any kind of notice over at the Cheezburger Network. I actually did it before Chinese Democracy was finally released in 2008 (after, what, twelve or thirteen years of Axl working on it?), so it was current and pithy at the time. Now... maybe not so much.

Eh, what can I say? I like it. Oh, and I'm lazy, let's not forget that.

Coming tomorrow: either something brand spanking new, or Jason Voorhees. Which will it be? Come back tomorrow to find out!

All two of you.

28 Days LOL-ter: Day 2

2010-02-02T19:47:00.006-05:00

The dumb gimmick continues, with the marriage of a recent pop-culture meme... and English choadery!

Presenting...

Notes from Limboland's 28 Days LOL-ter: Day 2: Lookin like a fool

moar funny pictures

Pick up your pants, boy! And comb your fucking hair once in a while. Douche.

I don't get the appeal of Pattinson. I just don't. Look at any picture of that fey English wanker, with his teased up hair and doped-out glazed eyes, and tell me that's not 21st-century update of the hair metal look. Only he really feels your pain.

Gah. You kids get off my lawn.

Coming tomorrow: Sino-democractic institutions, circa 1987.

28 Days LOL-ter: A Horrible Name for a Lame-Ass Gimmick

2010-02-01T19:45:00.003-05:00

Has it really been ten months since I could be bothered to post? It seems much, much longer.

Anyway, I'm trying to get my lazy ass to do more blogging - not because I really have all that much that's interesting to say, mind you; it's more of a "stop watching so much damned TV and write, idiot!" kind of thing, really - but, just like real writing, this blogging shit takes practice. It's kind of work-ish, which, seeing as I have a day job and all, isn't as appealing as it sounds. So, in an effort to fool my stupid brain, I'm going to ease my way back into this blogging thing with a dumb gimmick.

And it is thus: 28 Days LOL-ter.

For the month of February, 2010, I shall be posting a new (to you, at least) LOL pic, created by yours truly, and brought to by the fine folks at The Cheezburger Network.

Oh, yes. 28 days of LOLs. Created by me. I even made a label for it on the blog and everything - that's just how dead fucking serious I am about silly pictures with inane captions.

Let the internets quake with anticipation. Or revulsion. I'm not particular.

So, without further ado - LOL!

moar funny pictures

(This is an old one - might be a little more than a year old. It never got a lot of looks over at Pundit Kitchen, which is a shame, because this is one of my favorites. Heathens.)

Day 1 - [brushes hands] - in the books.

Hopefully, this dumb gimmick will trick my stupid brain into thinking of this blogging stuff as more hobby than work, and I'll do more stuff than just this dumb gimmick. I'm pretty sure I'll at least get back into the Friday Random Ten, which is mindless fun. Who knows? Maybe other, more substantial stuff, as well.

Wouldn't that be swell?

Friday Random Ten: The Proof is in the Pudding

2009-04-10T11:07:00.003-04:00

What? I like pudding.

"We had the $240 - we had to have the pudding."

And now you know the state of my mind.

Ooooh. Brilliant, no?

1. "Stratford-on-Guy" - Liz Phair

2. "Bled White" - Elliott Smith

3. "The Man Who Sold The World" - Nirvana

4. "Team" - Bon Iver

5. "One Week" - Barenaked Ladies

6. "The General Specific" - Band of Horses

7. "Whisper Grass" - Elbow

8. "No One Else" - Weezer

9. "Politik" - Coldplay

10. "It's Not Up To You" - Bjork

BONUS!

11. "Invincible" - Muse

SUPER EXTRA-SPECIAL 1993 BONUS!

12. "$240 Worth of Pudding" - Barry and Levon

$240 Worth of Pudding - watch more funny videos

Awwww, yeah.

Ye Gods, the hair! The HAIR!

2009-04-02T10:32:00.002-04:00

Thanks to the inestimable Mr. Scalzi and his latest Reader Request Week post, I now have Howard Jones's "No One Is To Blame" running on an infinte loop in my head. I like the song - absolutely loved it when I was 11, to be sure, and I think it's held up reasonably well to the years - but there's only so much of the inoffensive Brit's dulcet tones I can take before yea, verily, I doth descend into madness.

So: what's the solution?

(And don't say "More Cowbell!" Because I'm pretty sure that joke jumped the shark about four years ago, now.)

Here's the solution: get the song out of my head and into yours! So, have some, friends, and revel in the glory of Howard Jones in his prime.

Wow. That hair, man. That's just something else. Luckily, that style abortion ended with Reagan, et. al.

Oh, wait.

(Photo cribbed from Amanda Marcotte's flickr stream; taken on day one of this year's SXSW festival in Austin, I believe.)

Friday Random Ten: "Read, dammit!" Edition

2009-03-27T09:11:00.002-04:00

First, an addendum to yesterday's You Must Read These post. These are also books you must read. Because I said so, dammit!

Winterbirth and Bloodheir by Brian Ruckley - books 1 & 2, respectively, of Ruckley's The Godless World trilogy. This is classic epic fantasy, in the mold of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. Magic is at a minimum here, though it has its place. Plus, militant religious fanatics bent on domination! This is one of the better series in epic fantasy in recent years, a solid bit of storytelling with a complex, fully-realized world and some characters that you can actually get behind. I'm anxiously awaiting the trilogy's conclusion, Fall of Thanes, which will be published in May, 2009.

The Darkness That Comes Before; The Warrior Prophet; The Thousand-Fold Thought by R. Scott Bakker - comprising The Prince of Nothing trilogy, Bakker's epic fantasy series is simply the best fantasy going. Yes, better than GRRM. Way better than Jordan. This series is what every epic fantasy should strive to emulate. Well-written, deftly-plotted, world-building that's almost daunting (and definitely envy-inducing), brutal and beautiful and painful and joyous, The Prince of Nothing books spin a dark tale of one man, the ultimate trickster, who arrives from the North and manages to finagle his way into the ultimate position of power, through manipulation and a preternatural understanding of human nature. And he doesn't care who he ruins along the way, who he kills or betrays, for he is on a mission. And that mission: save the world from the rising of the No-God. Yeah, I read these a while ago, but I'm thinking I need to re-read them again soon. I'm sure there's a ton I missed on the first go-round.

Okay, I'm sure there are more I'm forgetting, but the music, she calls. Onto the list!

1. "True Dreams of Wichita" - Soul Coughing

2. "I've Got Your Number" - Elbow

3. "We Might As Well Be Strangers" - Keane

4. "Fuck and Run" - Liz Phair

5. "Nude" - Radiohead

6. "Lost!" - Coldplay

7. "Buddy Holly" - Weezer

8. "Seal the Bulkheads" - Richard Gibbs (Battlestar Galactica (2003) soundtrack)

9. "One Of These Things First" - Nick Drake

10. "Cold Water" - Damien Rice

Yes. Yes, I think I like that list, and would like to subscribe to its newsletter. But what about the bonus?

11. "Such Great Heights" - The Postal Service

Not bad, not bad at all. I think my musical self-worth has been mildly assuaged for the week.

Cue Gordon Ramsey: "Video."

Done.

You must read these. NOW.

2009-03-26T17:07:00.003-04:00

Twiddling my thumbs, waiting for code to build and automated unit tests to run. Time to issue a decree to all denizens of Limboland!

And it is thus: read more.

I read. A lot. Not as much as The Wife, granted, who can sit down and polish off a decent-sized book (200-300 pages, say) in a single day if she has the time (new Taltos books from Brust seems to garner this attention, in particular), but I'd say I go through, on average, 2-3 books of fiction a month. Sometimes it's more, sometimes less - it all depends on the books currently in the queue.

My bent, naturally (as I am the Viscount of Nerd), is toward the more speculative of the fictive arts. F&SF, as the kids call it. Though I've been known to read other genre fiction - I will happily gobble up anything and everything from Stephen King, for example, and have a soft spot for Ludlum and even Clancy, Jebus save me - and have even occasionally dabbled in what is often referred to as "literature", or as I like to call it (in my head, where no one else can here, except for that one guy) "fiction with a high-falutin' accent", speculative fiction is my one true fictive love.

(Wow. Now that, friends, is a tortured sentence. I was going to edit it, but I thought I'd leave it up there as a shining example of how, exactly, not to write with the English. Also: lazy.)

Anyway: I am a reader. I wish for you would be too. Please to have some of my tasty recommendations from recently-read pile!

Anathem by Neal Stephenson - or as I privately refer to it, The Geeks Shall (Maybe) Inherit the (Not) Earth. You wouldn't know it from the first 150 pages or so, but this is probably one of NS's most "straightforward" science fiction books. Though "straightforward" means something totally different when NS is involved, I'll grant you that. This book is dense and large and intimidating, but it's well worth the effort. You'll find the first third or so a tough slog, and may even want to chuck the fucking thing across the room at points, but stick with it. If, for nothing else, the sheer beauty of world building done right.

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger - I read this about 6 months ago, so it's not really in my recently-read pile any more, but damn if this book didn't stick with me. It's one of the strangest, human, touching and tragic love stories I've ever read. Extremely well-written, to boot. Read it. Read it now!

Ghostwritten by David Mitchell - more a series of interconnected short stories than a proper novel, this is still an engrossing read. Mitchell pulls off the nifty trick of telling all of the stories in the first person and somehow giving each narrator, reliable or otherwise, their own distinct voices. It ends a little unsatisfactorily, but that's my only beef. Heh. Beef.

The Warded Man by Peter V. Brett - first-timer Brett has come up with a unique take on the classic high/epic fantasy milieu: what if demons rose from the ground every night, all night, and the only way to not get killed was to be behind a series of protective wards, sigils of a lost magic, and that even those wards might fail and you're toast? What would that world be like? This is actually my current read, and I'm about halfway through. Thoroughly enjoying it. Brutal in just the right amount, with characters that I actually kind of care about (my main beef with most epic fantasy). Suckiness: it's brand new, and book 1 of a series. So there's that.

Okay: unit tests done. Time to check in. And check out! Ha!

Go: read, dammit.

Friday Random Ten: "Quack Me Up Before You Quack-Quack" Edition

2009-03-20T12:44:00.004-04:00

The quacking has resumed. For most of the week, there was no quacking, as the president of my organization was out of the office. Until today, that is. She's back, with her infernal laptop, and the damnable quack quack quack has, much to my dismay, re-entered my work life.

So: what to do? I know! Let's FRT - quack-style!

Quack. "Such Great Quacks" - Iron & Wine

Quack. "Quackless" - Soul Coughing

Quack. "Tired of Quack" - Weezer

Quack. "Window Quacks" - Band of Horses

Quack. "What A Good Quack" - Barenaked Ladies

Quack. "Motion Picture Soundquack" - Radiohead

Quack. "You Can Do Better Than Quack" - Death Cab for Cutie

Quack. "Street Quack (Fade Out)" - Radiohead

Quack. "Viva la Quack" - Coldplay

Quack. "Dickquack" - Kate Nash

My my: what a quacking list. But what's the bonus quack?

Extra Quack. "U-Quack" - Pixies

Brilliant. I went to school near U-Quack, so this song is near-and-dear ("In the sleepy West / of the woody East / lives a Valley full / full of Pioneer...")

(But sweet merciful Daffy, they got old and fat, didn't they? Yowza.)

Until next time, kids: keep your feet on the quack, but keep reaching for the quacks.

God help me.

You gotta be quacking quacking me

2009-03-13T16:52:00.005-04:00

He looks so innocent, doesn't he? Not evil at all. And yet, his is the very heart of darkness...

Because I know the vast and awesome readership of Limboland demands it, an update to the whole quacking cellphone nonsense...

So, it turns out that it's not a cellphone's ringer that's set to quack - it's an Outlook new mail notification sound. That's why it's constantly going off. Worse, the person who is responsible for unleashing this torrent of anatine hullabaloo on my workplace is none other than the president and founder of the organization, whose office just happens to be two doors down from mine.

Seriously. And she gets a metric fuckload of email.

What to do? Can't rightly march into her office, yank the laptop from her desk and send it plunging into the river, to live (and die) amongst the ducks whose call the infernal machine apes at every new electronic message arrival. I doubt even complaining about it would do anything - she probably thinks it's cute.

Grrr. And also: argh.

People. Meh.

Friday Random Ten: "It's Friday, Time to Blog" edition

2009-03-13T11:50:00.004-04:00

Boy, sometimes I sure wish I'd get off my lazy butt and do some blog entries about other stuff, rather than just doing these FRTs.

But then I settle down and let the warm, fuzzy glow of the TV wash over me, and everything's okay again.

Oh, TV. When have you ever done me wrong?

Liste!

1. "Islands on the Coast" - Band of Horses

2. "Cannonball" - Damien Rice

3. "We Looked Like Giants" - Death Cab for Cutie

4. "Bullets' - Augustana

5. "Midnight Show" - The Killers

6. "X&Y" - Coldplay

7. "Rusted Wheel" - Silversun Pickups

8. "Polaris" - Jimmy Eat World

9. "Heaven Forbid" - The Fray

10. "Monkey Gone to Heaven" - Pixies

Not bad, not bad. Let's see what's behind door number 11, shall we...?

11. "The General Specific" - Band of Horses

Oh, the dreaded band repeat in the bonus! So sorry - thanks for playing, we have some lovely parting gifts for you. Johnny, tell 'em what they've won!

Thanks for stopping by, folks! We'll see you next time on Friday Random Ten!

Friday Random Ten: Mailbox Orange Aquatic Edition

2009-03-06T12:08:00.002-05:00

Yes, friends, it's Friday again. And you know what that means! Indeed, time to open up my soul - or at least my music library - to all and sundry. "Why do I do this?" you ask. That's a great question.

Monkeys.

(What? That's a great answer!)

So, without further ado, let the humiliation - er, I mean, the list begin!

1. "The Ice Is Getting Thinner" - Death Cab for Cutie

Z. "For Emma" - Bon Iver

Maroon. "Johnny Sunshine" - Liz Phair

Pie. "Take a Bow" - Muse

-99. "Black Star" - Radiohead

6. "A is for Asthma" - Kate Nash

23. "23" - Jimmy Eat World

Aston Villa FC. "The Beatiful Occupation" - Travis

C#. "Heirloom" - Bjork

10. "Sunshine" - Keane

Bonus bonus bonus!

Flapjacks. "A Message" - Coldplay

Feh. Coldplay it is. Have some. Have some now!

And because I can... FLAPJACK! MAKING FUN OF JAMES "DOUCHE" BLUNT! WHY AM I SHOUTING?

(Did you get this week's theme? Huh? Well, well, aren't you the observant one, my plucky little shellfish!)

Friday Random Ten: 25 Random Things - "City of Delusion" edition

2009-02-27T13:18:00.005-05:00

Following on a meme that's been there and back again, saw the movie and hated the ending but then saw the movie again... I give unto you the not-annoying-at-all-not-in-the-slightest "Friday 25 Random Things About Me" list! (Clicken the linken for what the hell it all means)

Yes! List!

1. What do your friends say about you?

"No. 13 Baby" - Pixies

2. How would your coworkers describe you?

"Ribcage" - Elbow

3. How would you describe yourself?

"Cannonball" - Damien Rice

4. What do you like in a romantic partner?

"Too Long Awake" - Idlewild

5. How do you feel today?

"We Never Change" - Coldplay

6. What is your life's purpose?

"Cath..." - Death Cab for Cutie

7. What is your motto?

"Reunion" - Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard (Gladiator soundtrack)

8. What do you think about the most?

"Isobel" - Bjork

9. What are you going to do on your next vacation?

"One Week" - Barenaked Ladies

10. What do you think of your first love/date?

"An Echo, A Stain" - Bjork (zing!)

11. What is your life story?

"Getchoo" - Weezer

12. What did you do yesterday?

"Dead Wrong" - The Fray

13. What do you think of when you see the person you like/love?

"Brian Wilson" - Barenaked Ladies

14. What describes your wedding?

"Goodbye, Baby" - Richard Gibbs (Battlestar Galactica miniseries soundtrack)

15. What will they play at your funeral?

"I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" - Colin Hay

16. What is your obsession?

"Sentimental Guy" - Ben Folds

17. What is your biggest fear?

"Midnight Show" - The Killers

18. What is your biggest secret?

"Fix You" - Coldplay

19. What is your biggest turn-on?

"Pink Triangle" - Weezer (lesbians, FTW!)

20. How do you describe your friends?

"Futures" - Jimmy Eat World

21. What would you do with a million dollars?

"Can't Stop Now" - Keane

22. What is your opinion of sex?

"Amsterdam" - Coldplay

23. What is your biggest regret?

"Wasteland" - Augustana (actually, I think Song of Susannah was the worst of the Dark Tower books - hey, now!)

24. What would you rather be doing right now?

"Bodysnatchers" - Radiohead

25. What will you post this list as?

"City of Delusion" - Muse

Hm. That was amusing, at least. I'm particularly fond of nos. 10, 15 and 19 - ah, iTunes, you really came through for me.

Now, let's mark the passing of my first internet meme participation with this lovely video of the fine lads of Muse performing "City of Delusion" live. Enjoy.

thppth.

Annoyances in the Workplace: Part X of Eleventy-Billion and Y

2009-02-26T16:38:00.007-05:00

Photo courtesy of greengabbro.net

Someone in my office - someone of questionable intelligence and/or sanity - has the ring tone on their cellphone set to that of a duck's quack. I shit you not: it is, literally, the sound of a duck quacking. No music, jingle-jangle or anything else. Simply this:

quack quack quack. quack quack quack.

I just noticed it today, though I think it's been subconsciously plaguing me for a few days. And whoever this person is - if I knew who it was, likely their precious mobile would be sitting at the bottom of the river that runs by my building - gets an absurd amount of phone calls. I've counted eight since I first noticed it, shortly after lunch today.

Fucking quacking as your goddamn ring tone. Seriously.

I need to invest in some good headphones.

Friday Random Ten: It's sooooo easy

2009-02-20T10:16:00.003-05:00

which is why these have been the only posts of late. Oh, sure, I've wanted to post about Neal Stephenson's Anathem, which I just finished, and I've got that whole "big announcement about my writing, just wait for the new year" thing which I keep putting off... but those are all, like, hard and stuff. FRTs are like Skittles. And if you don't know what I mean, then I don't know how we ever communicated.

Anyway. Maestro, ze list!

1. "Foundations" - Kate Nash

2. "Gunshy" - Liz Phair

3. "Trouble" - Coldplay

4. "Brian Wilson" - Barenaked Ladies

5. "Stable Song" - Death Cab for Cutie

6. "Late" - Ben Folds

7. "Sunday Best" - Augustana

8. "Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine" - The Killers

9. "Volcano" - Damien Rice

10. "Wisconsin" - Bon Iver

Whoa. That's not a bad list - not a great one, mind, but as I've mentioned before, I've never been cool. And I'm okay with that. (No: really!) Anyway, let's see what's behind the mystery bonus door, shall we?

11. "No Answers" - AeonSpoke

Well, hey now. I daresay this is one of the best FRTs I've ever been a part of. Here, let's make merry with an AeonSpoke video ("Emmanuel" - I couldn't find one for "No Answers"), courtesy of the fine folks over at YouTube.

Happy Friday, folks.

Friday Random Ten: Aaaand, we're back

2009-02-13T10:56:00.003-05:00

Oh, my, but it's been a while since last we played the legendary FRT, hasn't it? Let's us rectify the situation, post haste!

1. "No One's Gonna Love You" - Band of Horses

2. "Work" - Jimmy Eat World

3. "Everybody's Changing" - Keane

4. "In The Garage" - Weezer

5. "Pain" - Jimmy Eat World

6. "Sulk" - Radiohead

7. "Parachutes" - Coldplay

8. "Death Of An Interior Decorator" - Death Cab for Cutie

9. "Talking Bird" - Death Cab for Cutie

10. "Welcome Home" - Idlewild

And, as ever, the infamous bonus track that almost always lets me down with its inherent lameosity:

11. "Love Will Come Through" - Travis

Hardly ever disappointed by the blandness of my music collection, am I. Alas, I am not now, nor have I ever been, cool. And I'm okay with that.

Here, let's celebrate feeling good about being lame by watching this video of bland adult alternative pap!

To be fair, this is off the album Twelve Memories (2003), which has a number of ditties highly critical of Bush's America, plus a song titled "Peace the Fuck Out". So it's not totally lame, only partially so.

Huh. Defensive much?

Gobbler's Knob? Really?

2009-02-02T10:51:00.003-05:00

Taking a break from self-imposed blog exile (read: been too damn lazy and/or busy IRL to post) to note that Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow on Gobbler's Knob today.

Put aside the fact that this supposedly means another 6 weeks of an already stupidly-long winter. Punxsutawney Phil resides on Gobbler's Knob? Really? No: really?

I mean... damn, the jokes just write themselves, don't they?

Winner winner chicken dinner

2008-11-30T22:41:00.005-05:00

Check it:

Boo. And also: yah.

I did it. I can't believe it, but I did it. I'm done. 50,000+ words in thirty damn days. (Final, official word count, according to the kind NaNoWriMo bots: 51,247)

That's like: whoa. (Sorry, but it really is kind of a "I know kung fu" moment)

So: that's all. I wanted to revel in the glory of winning this damn thing for the first time. I think I'm going to sleep soon - maybe that will stop the incessant bleeding from the eyes.

Stay tuned for an upcoming announcement re: the thing I just got done writing. (Even though I am not quite done with it yet)

Boy, this has been a parenthetical post, hasn't it?

(FYI: Title comes from cbeard, who got it from some other insane dude. Manky bastards, both.)

Friday Random Ten: "It's All I Do" edition

2008-11-21T10:05:00.003-05:00

Maybe I should post something other than FRTs?

Nah. This is how I roll.

Teh liste!

1. "Birds" - Kate Nash

2. "The New Year" - Death Cab for Cutie

3. "Shoebox" - Barenaked Ladies

4. "Stable Song" - Death Cab for Cutie

5. "Dead Wrong" - The Fray

6. "Dickhead" - Kate Nash

7. "Progeny" - Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard

8. "Invincible" - Muse

9. "Prison Food" - Ben Folds

10. "Getchoo" - Weezer

Bonus (no whammies no whammies no whammies):

11. "Bled White" - Elliott Smith

Oh, Elliott. Emo with a brain, way before emo was emo. Gone too soon.

Friday Random Ten: "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds" edition

2008-11-14T11:12:00.003-05:00

But this here ain't no foolish consistency, Mr. Emerson. I'm not at all certain that it's a wise consistency, but hey: three weeks in a row is, for me, "consistent-with-a-capital-C-and-a-silent-Q" (because having a silent Q makes a word that much more important, you see).

Anyway, put away your hobgoblins, kids. The list (non-Genius-ified, natch):

1. "No Answers" - Aeon Spoke

2. "Two at a Time" - Guster

3. "Elysium" - Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard (Gladiator soundtrack)

4. "Cigarettes, Wedding Bands" - Band of Horses

5. "Honor Him" - Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard (Gladiator soundtrack)

6. "Smoke" - Ben Folds Five

7. "Thousands Left Behind" - Richard Gibbs (Battlestar Galactica (2003) soundtrack)

8. "As if I Hadn't Slept" - Idlewild

9. "Call and Answer" - Barenaked Ladies

10. "Marry Song" - Band of Horses

And the bonus, FTW (please, please FTW):

11. "Dozen Wicked Words" - Longpigs

Huh. I'm pretty sure that an English band hailed as better than Oasis (and certainly more fucked up than the brothers Gallagher, if that's even possible) doesn't count as full of Win, but ... eh, what the hell. Have some 90s English radio-friendly modern rock.

"She Said" - Long Pigs: (couldn't find a video for "Dozen Wicked Words", the bastards)

Postscript: I have a couple of movie/TV soundtrack albums in my library because I like to listen to them while I write. Movie scores - especially for sci-fi/fantasy films, or anything epic (like Gladiator) - actually make for great writing music. So I've found, anyway. YMMV.

Anyway, that's why they keep showing up. And, no, I don't know why I felt the need to justify their presence. Maybe I'm a little sensitive, all right? Just back off, man. Back. Off.

The stupid. It burns.

2008-11-11T13:50:00.005-05:00

I'm a regular reader of Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback over on SI.com, have been for a while now. Don't know why, really: his writing and opinions tend toward the facile, there's a tendency on King's part to name-drop till the cows come home (a habit that plagues most sports columnists and commentators), and I don't think I've ever come away from reading one of his columns with significantly more NFL insight than I did going in. For whatever reason, I always read it (both the big column, which appears on Monday mornings, and the so-called "MMQB Tuesday Edition", which is smaller and more of a mailbag, in which King responds to selected reader correspondence and clarifies points made in the big column), and always kinda enjoy it.

Here's the thing: King uses his column as a bit of a personal soapbox, often injecting non-NFL related topics into the big column, be they family matters (like the ongoing saga of his daughter's high school softball team from a few years back) or the news of the day. Earlier in the season, King made the mistake of writing about the election, and started taking all kinds of heat from his readership for it. What he was writing wasn't in any way controversial or inflammatory, but you could pretty much tell King favored Obama for the presidency. I'm assuming that the two are more than a little related.

Well, King swore off politics in the column for the rest of the election cycle, and he was true to his word. I didn't miss it - like I said, he's not a scintillating commentator, on anything really - but I wouldn't have minded if he'd ignored his readers' protests and kept talking about the election. I mean, Jesus: it's not like it was historical or anything.

So, flash-forward to yesterday, when he devotes the second page of his online column to talking about Obama's historic victory on 04 November, and the reaction from various players throughout the NFL to the election results. Seems pretty kosher, no? Here's this transformational, generational event in American life - the first time a black man has been elected President of the United States - and King talks about the reaction of various NFL players to said event. This is not controversial, at all. Hey, it's actually kind of like news!

But this, apparently, was all the evidence that some of King's readers needed to prove, once and for all, King's libtard tendencies. This email, in particular - reprinted in King's Tuesday column - made me facepalm:

"This is the last time I ever read your column, Peter. I got so sick of reading Michael Silver's liberal opinions that I stopped reading him. You have finally pushed me too far. Electing a black man president is a good thing. Electing Barack Obama president, a closet socialist with questionable ties to terrorists, felons, and racists, well, it's just a sad day for our country. I am permanently through with your column and watching any TV show you are on. Goodbye, Comrade."

For people like this asshat, the term "douche" is simply a waste. "Senator, I served with douche: I knew douche; douche was a friend of mine; Senator, you're no douche." Etc.

I don't feel sorry for King - at least, not for having too-stupid-for-douche-tag readers. I do pity him, having to wade through intellectual atrocities like the email quoted above - read enough of that shit, and your eyes are gonna bleed, no question about it.

Almost makes me happy that my readership is, like, nil.

Friday Random Ten: a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma

2008-11-07T10:47:00.002-05:00

I'm not cool, but I play one on TV.

And with that: musique, s'il vous plait!

1. "Black Swan" - Thom Yorke

2. "Joga" - Bjork

3. "Polaris" - Jimmy Eat World

4. "Swallowed in the Sea" - Coldplay

5. "Talking Bird" - Death Cab for Cutie

6. "Supermassive Black Hole" - Muse

7. "Winding Road" - Bonnie Sommerville (Garden State soundtrack)

8. "Such Great Heights" - Iron & Wine

9. "The Old Apartment" - Barenaked Ladies

10. "Your Eyes Open" - Keane

Bonus!:

11. "Skeleton Song" - Kate Nash

W00t! Kate Nash! Cheeky! More exclamation points, please!

VOTE

2008-11-04T12:20:00.006-05:00

Do it.

Do it now.

Do it.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

DO IT!

Cake or Death?

2008-11-03T16:12:00.004-05:00

moar funny pictures

The lede from the top story on CNN.com, as of 16:19 EST:

Less than 24 hours before the presidential election, Kevin Sheen has yet to decide who will get his vote.

"I'm actually still wrestling with moral issues," says the 29-year-old registered Democrat, who voted for George W. Bush in 2004.

Sheen is one of the 5 percent of American voters who are either undecided or could change their mind before Election Day.

I hate these people. How can you really be undecided at this point, after close to two years of damn near constant campaigning? Of five straight months of Obama v. McCain smackdown coverage all ofer the goddamn place? Of 2+ months of wall-to-wall news coverage since the end of the conventions?

Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick, what more do you people want? Is it that you're simply incapable of committing? What terminal idiocy prevents you from making a decision? Is it like this when you go to Subway? Cold or toasted, man! Cold. Or. Toasted.

*sigh* Hopefully, only one more day of this shit, then we can rest up until the campaign for the 2010 mid-terms begins. In December.

Oh, yeah: Go vote tomorrow. Or you'll be an asshat. And you don't want to be an asshat, do you?

Friday Random Ten - Now With Sparkling Crystals!*

2008-10-31T11:44:00.004-04:00

* - Sparkling Crystals not included

In a stunning fit of consistency (two weeks in a row? madness!), I offer unto you this week's FRT:

1. Liz Phair - "Dance of the Seven Veils"

2. Weezer - "My Name is Jonas"

3. Pixies - "Silver"

4. Pixies - "Alex Eifel"

5. Radiohead - "Videotape"

6. Coldplay - "Violet Hill"

7. Liz Phair - "Soap Star Joe"

8. Soul Coughing - "Soft Serve"

9. Elbow - "I've Got Your Number"

10. Bon Iver - "Team"

And the bonus track, FTW:

11. The Shins - "Caring is Creepy"

Ah, slightly better bonus track this week. Still not full of Win, but then, I'm not sure any of the music I listen to would be considered Teh Hawesome by the kids these days.

Anyway: sparkly: (and multiple colons, too!):

Note: Couldn't find a decent video for "Caring is Creepy", so you'll just have to make do with "New Slang". I think you'll live.

Sweet. Tapdancing. Christ. (Arachnophobe edition)

2008-10-24T17:31:00.002-04:00

No, srsly: SWEET. TAPDANCING. CHRIST.

Don't click that link. Really: just don't.

...

You clicked it, didn't you?

Don't say I didn't warn you. And, no, I will not tuck you in OR get you a glass of water. Especially from the kitchen sink! IF I got you water - and that's a big if, Mister Smartpants, since I told you not to click that link, didn't I? - you'd do with bathroom water.

No, they do not taste different! It's the same water!

Sheesh. Kids.

Friday Random Ten: The Return of a Great Idea, Ruthlessly Stolen from Other, Better Bloggers

2008-10-24T08:54:00.003-04:00

Oh yeah. I'm all about the pithy titles.

So, Amanda over at Pandagon, who's much cooler than me (a fact which is consistently reflected in the music she listens to), has taken to doing the FRT with the new Genius function in iTunes. I'd do that, but apparently the Genius function only works for the music library on your computer, not on any iPod you might have hooked up to said computer. I'm at work, so I don't put a ton of music on my work box, preferring to listen to music from my iPod through iTunes. So: no Genius for you!

Anyway, my Friday Random Ten:

1. Silversun Pickups -- "Lazy Eye"

2. Muse -- "Assassin"

3. Death Cab for Cutie -- "Passenger Seat"

4. Ben Folds Five -- "Smoke"

5. Nick Drake -- "One of These Things First"

6. Pixies -- "Gouge Away"

7. Jimmy Eat World -- "Work"

8. Bjork -- "All is Full of Love"

9. Coldplay -- "Spies"

10. Weezer -- "Buddy Holly"

And... bonus track FTW!:

11. Elbow -- "Snooks"

Okay, Elbow's not really full of Win, but... look! Shiny!

Never gonna give you up

2008-09-05T11:50:00.002-04:00

You know it's a weird day when you realize that you just Rickrolled yourself, in your own head.

Related: Yes, I do think in hyperlinks. Thanks for asking.

Also, from the TMI Department: I secretly kinda liked the Astley, back in the day. But, in my defense, I was 13.

No, you're right. I should have known better, even then.

my blog fail. let me show u it.

2008-07-01T15:02:00.004-04:00

According to StatCounter, I've had 44 unique visits to my blog since I started tracking back in March. You know what that means!

moar funny pictures

Not that I'm going to do anything about it. Really, this post was just an excuse to do the LOLcat.

"I want the same milk. What happened to my old milk?"

2008-06-30T15:30:00.005-04:00

I know I haven't posted in a long-ass time - no real excuse: just remember that I am a lazy sod - and this isn't to say that I'm going to be back at blogging, all guns blazing, any time soon. But I read this article today in the NYT (h/t: this post at DailyKos) and ... well, I don't know. Something about it set me off.

I mean, come on. It's a fucking milk jug redesign - one that, by all rights, reduces the overall environmental impact of milk delivery and consumption by a substantial margin, plus is economically more efficient than its antecedent. But - but- but - it's new! And different! And I can't figure out how to pour it, because I'm a fucking moron!

The jugs have no real spout, and their unorthodox shape makes consumers feel like novices at the simple task of pouring a glass of milk.

“I hate it,” said Lisa DeHoff, a cafe owner shopping in a Sam’s Club here.

“It spills everywhere,” said Amy Wise, a homemaker.

“It’s very hard for kids to pour,” said Lee Morris, who was shopping for her grandchildren.

Oh noes! Think of teh childrnz!

...

Yeah, I might be overreacting a bit, here.

But, like I said, something about the reactions in this article touched off something in me. For some reason, the reactions and attitudes captured in the article seem like the perfect microcosm of average America's inherent dislike of change, even beneficial change.

The title of the post, drawn directly from the linked NYT article, sums it up nicely, I think:

What happened to my old milk, indeed.

(Quick) Hit me with your rhythm stick

2008-04-15T08:32:00.008-04:00

Look! Eighties parenthetical title! W00t!

And now: the Quick Hits.

Heard this morning on Marketplace's morning radio report, during a story on the business of selling trinkets and mementos for Chancellor Palpatine's Pope Benedict XVI's visit to Washington, DC:

In reference to the always-funny Pope-on-a-Rope, a woman in the gift shop of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception: "I think that's disgusting. Why wash your body with the pope?"

To which I must respond: good gracious, why not?

It's official:

Created by OnePlusYou

I may need to lose some weight.

The Wife has something awful that she'd like to share with you (pay attention to the last paragraph). Because that's what the Internet is for, right?

But, really, dear: it'll be okay. Don't hang up your Chucks yet.

It's a week late and a benjamin short (ooh, clever! look, I'm teh r0x0rz!), but I finally figured out what began to bug me about Scalzi's last Big Idea entry (mentioned in my previous post). And it is thus:

John knowingly fed the troll.

Day is not a troll in the usual sense - or perhaps it's more accurate to say that he's an higher order of troll. Whatever, he gets his kicks and makes his monies by being a deliberate douche, and that's clear trollish behavior. I don't even care if Day really believes in his own claptrap or not - devotion to ideas or ideals doesn't make you any less of a douche.

It's been written to death by this point, but I'll say it again: it's John's blog, he can do whatever the fuck he wants with it, but... huh? I'm not bewildered by the post, but by the motivations for it, I guess. Someone as Intarweeb-savvy as Scalzi knows exactly what he's doing, so I'm left scratching my head as to why he decided to feed the troll.

Makes me wonder if we didn't all just catch John on a really bad day or something.

(h/t to this post by ertchin, which helped clarify my thinking)

You've just shit on your brain

2008-04-08T18:42:00.004-04:00

Scalzi's opened up a can of worms over at the Whatever by featuring the author Vox Day (a pseudonym) in his ongoing Big Idea series. Day's latest offering, The Irrational Atheists, aims to take down the leading modern day thinkers of the atheist community by taking them on at their own game: namely, by using reason and the scientific method to refute their arguments against the existence of God. I haven't read the book, and I'm not planning to - Day freely admits to ad hominem attacks throughout this book, and I'm just not going to bother with that kind of nonsense when discussions surrounding the nature and existence of God are already rife with that spectacular brand of bullshit - but the comments thread at the Whatever for the Big Idea post featuring TIA (as the author acronyms it) has been a rollicking good read.

It's obviously gotten a bit testy, but for the most part the conversation has been spirited but civil. However, one of the most recent posters - pretty obviously an atheist - wrote one of the single-best put-downs of a belief in God I've ever read. (Full disclosure: I'm agnostic, leaning atheist):

The bottom line is that when you accept nonsense, and cherish it in your heart and make it an importat part of how you think and lead your life, you’ve just shit on your brain.

Now, that ain't nice... but it sure did make me giggle.

Probably the best blog post on the whole Spitzer mess

2008-03-11T12:40:00.001-04:00

Presented without further comment.

Spam Spam Bacon Tomato and Spam

2008-03-11T09:45:00.005-04:00

Found in my GMail spam folder this morning:

"I wanted to give someone a sexually transmitted disease (e.g., herpes, AIDS)."

That's probably the most disturbing piece of spam I've ever cast eyes upon. I'm assuming it's a unique take on the legion of "Grow your babymaker! Guaranteed!" spams I'm constantly cleaning out of my spam folder. I'm not going to open it up to check - I'm not sure I want to find out for sure.

I wish I'd had some coffee before I saw that.

There's something wrong with my pants

2008-02-25T12:11:00.007-05:00

Friends, I give you the single-most brilliant thing I've evar found on teh Intarwebs (in the past five minutes):

Garfield... minus Garfield.

I loved Garfield when I was a kid - I got something like the first 20 collections through the Scholastic Book Club; sad, but true. However, Garfield lost its luster for me when I hit my teens and discovered the pure hawesome that was Bloom County.

This, however... if Jim Davis actually started doing Garfield like this, there'd be reason for me to read the funny pages again. It'd be the mother of all eff-you retcons, a kind of post-modern "and then I woke up."

But funny!

Hat tip: Scalzi Whateverettes.

On momentum and ambition, or Yikes! Politics!

2008-02-20T21:47:00.002-05:00

I was talking with a co-worker today about the state of the primary race for the major party nominations for the presidential election here in the U.S. He and I are of similar political bent (pretty strongly Democratic), both support the same candidate (Obama), and our conversation quickly turned to the fate of Hillary Clinton, especially in light of the stunning 0-for-10 streak she's on, now that Obama pretty handily beat her in Wisonsin and Hawaii on Tuesday.

Momentum is a huge factor in the American presidential nomination process, and by any definition, Obama has decisively grabbed the momentum in the Democratic race from the establishment candidate and former heavy favorite. Losing streaks of this magnitude have killed off many a campaign in the past, and my co-worker wondered aloud for how long Hillary was going to hang in the race.

And I realized something then: Hillary can't quit. This is her one shot to be president: she just turned 61 in October; if she loses the nomination to Obama, with the better-than-average odds of him beating McCain in the general election in November, she's looking at another eight years before she can realistically run again. That would make her 69 - only three years younger than John McCain now, roughly the same age as Reagan when he was elected. But, here's the thing: those were men. The political calculus, even in this year when history will be made with whomever is the eventual Democratic nominee, I think is pretty clear: this country just ain't ready for Grandma President. Margaret Thatcher, Hillary ain't.

So, Hillary's in this to the end. If she picks up Texas or Ohio on March 4th - or both - she's mathematically back in this thing, and the possibility of a brokered convention becomes more likely. And, let's be honest here: if it comes down to a brokered convention, I'm not betting against the Clinton machine. But even if she loses both Texas and Ohio, I just don't think she bows out. Because of the way the Democratic party apportions delegates from primaries and caucuses, there's an entirely good chance that we won't have a nominee secured until the very last primary vote has been cast. If there's even the remotest hint of a possibility of a chance that she could somehow pull it out, Hillary will stay in it.

This is her one - her only - shot. Her ambition won't let her do anything else.

And now, your moment of Zen

2008-02-14T12:23:00.001-05:00

Just realized something: I'm a pretty angry geek.

Do with that what you will.

Just when I thought I was out...

2008-02-13T12:11:00.001-05:00

...he pulls me back in. The bastard.

But: ooh, shiny!

I hate you, George Lucas, you of the stilted dialogue and oh-so-boring-excuse-for-a-podrace plotter. And yet, I will give you more of my money.

Bastard.

To wit: what?

2008-02-12T12:07:00.001-05:00

For those of you who have seen Cloverfield, like myself - and yes, I should post my thoughts on the movie; thanks for asking! - the following screencap may make you go "Grrrrr". Or, like Matt, say, "God damn you JJ Abrams".

You see that? That thing in the red circle, so helpfully drawn by Matt? That's the freakin' Dharma Initiative logo. Y'know: from Lost. That other Bad Robot property. WTF?

So: aptly put, Matt. God damn you, JJ. Damn you to hell.

I can has NY dstryng mnstr? K thx!

2008-01-18T12:57:00.001-05:00

I will be seeing Cloverfield tonight. I am expecting awesome. I am, in fact, expecting a whole heaping plate of awesome. Perhaps, if I'm lucky, with a side order of tasty goodness. And ketchup. Because I like ketchup.

So, to recap for all zero people who read this blog who are not currently typing this blog post: I'm going to see Cloverfield tonight. With my wife. Who is possibly more excited about it than I am. Of course, this will be the first movie she's seen in a theatre since our daughter was born, lo these 13 months ago; but who's counting?

(Aside: I think the only reason I'm writing this is because I left a comment on Scalzi's blog today, and actually entered this blog's url in the "website" field on the comment box. On the off chance that my stupid, two-line comment - a straight rip-off of a Nelson Muntz quote from one of my favorite Simpons episodes - really resonated with some of his readership, and they clicked over here, I wanted something from the last year to be at the top of the page. Not, you know, a post from 2006. Then I'd just be a lame-o.)

(Aside to the aside: I just wrote "lame-o". Wow. I'm more tired than I thought.)

There. Are. FOUR. LIGHTS!

2006-06-15T08:34:00.000-04:00

I've come to the realization - gradually, creepingly, over the course of untold days and weeks and months - that I am no longer part of the coveted young person demographic. I am 31, married with a kid and another on the way, steadily employed, working in an office environment, and my average bedtime now hovers around 10:30pm - no surprise, then, that I have fallen out of this coveted social and cultural cluster. For fuck's sake, one beer of a Friday night and I'm ready for a solid eight hours. Of blissful sleep.

But I still didn't think of myself as a grownup. Not really. Intellectually, I knew that my irresponsible years were behind me; emotionally, I still thought of myself as 23. Shudder-inducing though that statement may be, it is truth. I had constructed an elaborate illusion of myself in my head, for the sole benefit of my own ... what? Self-preservation? Self-worth? Internal hipster cred? Who knows.

Last night, as I was drifting to sleep next to my wife after about a (highly-satisfying) hour of NBA Street Vol. 3 on the old PS2, this artifice was shattered. For some reason, my mind wandered onto the subject of emo, and I realized that, no matter how many times I hear the fucking term and the stupid fucking music it refers to, the first thing that will pop into my head when I hear the word is this:

Emo Philips.

Dear God, he's not even funny.

Friday Random Ten - Or, Yet Another Thing To Do When You're Not Doing What You're Supposed To Be Doing

2005-11-11T09:26:00.000-05:00

I like long titles.

The Friday Random Ten is something I first discovered at Pandagon, originated at some other blog whose name and URL I don't remember now (and, frankly, I'm too lazy to do any digging), but, to my mind, perfected by Norbizness at Happy Furry Puppy Story Time with Norbizness. As created by... um, whoever it was, the FRT is exceedingly simple: take your favorite digital media player (stand-alone or on your PC or Mac), load up your entire library of music, put the player on "Shuffle", hit play, and list the first ten songs that come up. Easy, neh?

Norbizness takes it to a new level, making it the Friday Random Eleven Lucky Music Coolness Self-Audit. Same instructions as above, only eleven songs instead of ten (or ten songs and a bonus track that's not included for scoring purposes - Norb's a little inconsistent on this), with the caveat that you must rate the coolness of each song on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being Bell Biv Devoe, 10 being some uber-cool hipster indie band that hasn't even been signed yet, I guess). It can be... "enlightening" is a word for it, but "depressing" is what came to my mind first.

Let me be the first to admit: I'm just not that hip.

Anyway, since I've got me own blog now, I thought I'd post my FRELMCSA here. May whatever magical Sky Fairy you happen to believe in have mercy on me. (You can find Norb's FRELMCSA here)

1. "Transatlanticism", Death Cab for Cutie. Darlings of the indie scene for some time, they've now gone all Major Label with their newest effort, Plans. This, however, is the title track off their last indie effort, a soaring yet simple song about a far-away lover. Really beautiful stuff, and probably one the better songs off a really good album. 8/10.

2. "Nashville", Liz Phair. Way before she made her last-ditch effort at relevance by releasing Avril Levigne-esque songs like "Why Can't I Breathe", Liz was cool, man. Exile in Guyville is without a doubt her best album, but this one (Whip-Smart) ain't half-bad, either. However, this song languishes in a mushy guitar line that Liz can't quite rise above. 6/10.

3. "My Hero", Foo Fighters. Goddammit - Foo Fighters always always always comes up in my Self-Audits. Thought maybe, for my first audit on my very own site, Mr. Grohl and company would be kind enough to not make a showing. I mean, I like the Foos and all - and this just happens to be my favorite song of theirs - but they certainly are not cool. Ah, me. I told you I wasn't hip. However, this gets a 5/10 because it's reportedly about Kurt Cobain. So there.

4. "Not a Job", Elbow. Fairly standard morose English pop-rock from a band noone's heard of. Why, give it a 5/10!

5. "Carrion", Fiona Apple. Dammit. 2/10.

6. "Go On Ahead", Liz Phair. Off whitechocolatespaceegg (one of the weirder and better album titles I've ever seen), typically sparse song about a love gone sour. 6/10.

7. "All Worked Out", Semisonic. Off of Feeling Strangely Fine - the 1998 album which supplied the waaaaaay overplayed "Closing Time". Semisonic isn't really cool. And this song isn't really cool. And I never want to hear "Closing Time" again. 3/10 for you!

8. "I've Been Tired", Pixies. Aaaahhh. There's the cool. I love hearing Black Francis saying "whore with disease", especially at 9 in the morning. 9/10.

9. "Independence Day", Ani DiFranco. More cool. Ani's the poster girl for Do-It-Yourself music, having started her own label at the ripe ol' age of 19 (or was it 20?), and steadfastly resisting signing with a major label, even as her name recognition has steadily increased through the years (thanks mainly to her relentless touring). This is off Little Plastic Castle, her 1998 studio album, and my favorite album of hers - richer and more complex than her earlier efforts, both musically and lyrically, but not before she went off in some weird-ass musical direction with later efforts (Up Up Up Up Up being the weirdest, IMO). And this is my favorite song off the album. 8/10.

10. "Ballad of a Running Man", Catherine Wheel. Oh, I've no idea what to do with this one. The song's okay, with some incongruous harmonica work over the layered guitar work in the middle, but... eh. 4/10.

11. "Derelict", Beck. He may not have the same cachet that he once had, but, you have to admit: Odelay was one of the best albums of the 90s. 7/10.

Which gives me an aggregate score of 5.73/11.

That's about right. Told you I wasn't hip.

Week Two - In Which Your Host Realizes That, Yes, The Self-Editor Is An Annoying Little Snit

2005-11-09T10:13:00.000-05:00

Yowza.

So, yesterday marked the beginning of Week Two of the NaNoWriMo 2005 adventure. To reach the 50k wordcount goal, I should ideally have entered Week Two with more than 10,000 words under my belt.

Current word count, as of this morning: 9,629.

I'm already behind, and Week Two is noted for its almost-universal drop in production, as participants realize the utter insanity of the task they've assigned themselves and wistfully long for those carefree days when they could just plop down in front of the TV and veg out to the constant CSI reruns on Spike.

Well... maybe that's just me, but you get the point. There's a reason they call it the Great Slowdown.

I am unimaginably busy this year - working one full-time job, pulling anywhere between 15-30 hours a week on a side contract, one 4 1/2-year-old son whom I've unabashedly gotten addicted to the Lego Star Wars PS2 game, and a wife who occasionally likes to see and talk with her charming husband - so I suppose it's not terribly surprising that I'm behind. But I took three vacation days from my full time job last week for the sole purpose of writing my NaNo Novel, with the outlandish goal of pumping out 10,000 words a day, thereby giving me a nice, comfy cushion going into Week Two.

Needless to say, after the first vacation day, I adjusted my goals downward, as expectation smashed headlong into reality. However, I thought it still realistic - indeed, well within the bounds of possibility - to reach my wordcount total from last year (a little over 12,000 words) by the time Week Two rolled around. Shouldn't be too hard, right? That's about 4,000 words a day for three days, less if I could pump out a couple thousand words on the weekend. Eminently doable.

And that's when my dreaded Self-Editor, the manky little ass, decided to slap me upside the head and put me in my place.

I have always been a slow writer, though my speed has become markedly reduced the older I get. It is because of my Self-Editor, of course - I'm constantly tinkering with what I write, going back and adding some stuff, changing passages, deleting, cringing, wondering what the hell I was thinking when I wrote that...

And so, my progress slows, my thinking becomes muddled as I find myself going backward while still trying to go forward with my story, and I find it increasingly more difficult to find the right words to express what I want to say. Dammit, the story's there in my head, I know where I need to go... but it's the getting there, the actual physical act of translating thought to word, that trips me up.

I know the whole point of this crazy enterprise is quantity, not quality, but I seem constitutionally incapable of ignoring the quality of my prose.

Gah. I'll muddle through, somehow. Or not. But I'll try.

I just wish I could bitch-slap that heinous Self-Editor but good.

It'd probably leave a mark, though.

The Root and the Way - Prologue - Part II

2005-11-04T21:37:00.000-05:00

Rafella screamed --

-- and awoke in her own chambers, to darkness and the drumbeat pounding of her heart in her chest and the slow, steady breathing of Poul sleeping under the blankets beside her.

Queen Rafella III of Roon propped herself upon her elbows and took a deep, shaky breath. Her skin was clammy with night sweat, and the bed linens were snaked around her legs like a truss - she must have done quite a bit of thrashing. It was a wonder her nightmare hadn’t woken Poul, as well as her.

Nightmare. That’s all it had been. She was in the here and now, two weeks from her third Binding, just under two years into her reign as Roon’s Queen. She had had a particularly vivid nightmare of her first Binding Day, her own memories twisted and turned, no doubt, by the stress of the rumblings from the Continent and the possibility of open war with Altessa. That was all. Her mother - Sakinael keep and protect her - had never said such things. Had never done such things. “Just a dream,” she whispered, with more than a little relief.

“You’re having nightmares again.”

Rafella twitched at the unexpected voice, and she involuntarily let out a little yelp. “Poul!” she hissed. “Don’t do that! I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” Poul cer Livan DarClamant, Prince Consort to the Queen of Roon, answered, without rolling from the side on which he’d been sleeping. “Until, that is, you screamed bloody murder. Something about your mother, I believe.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Rafella apologized. “You should go back to sleep.”

Poul ignored her. He had a habit of doing that. “It’s been nearly a year,” he said, turning over onto his back. In the gloom, her dark-adjusted eyes could just discern the outline of his features; by the way his strong nose and chin were pointing, he still wasn’t looking at her. “Is it the same one as before?”

“Poul,” she said, in a tone that made it clear she didn’t want to continue in this vein. “It’s of no concern. Go to sleep.”

Her husband was silent for a long while, though she could tell by the nature of the silence that he had not fallen back into slumber. “It is almost complete, Rae,” he said finally. He shifted so that he was on his side now, facing her, and gently traced the curve of her shoulder through the thin fabric of her night clothes. “I know I’m new to this, but, as I understand it, the Third Binding is the toughest, and it’s almost over. If that’s what’s worrying you.”

Rafella snorted and let her body fall back to the mattress, turning so the she faced him, as well. She reached out and unerringly took his face in her hands, and have him a quick, tender kiss. “I love you, Poul,” she said, with a small grin. “I love you until the ends of the world and back again. But you’ve much yet to learn about me.”

“Ah,” he said, and she could hear the self-deprecating smile in his voice. “Then the Third Binding is not, I take it, what’s worrying you.”

“I’ve been training for the Bindings nearly my entire life, Poul,” she answered. “Honestly, it will be a relief when this Third is over.” She paused, then smiled. “Besides, it’s the First Binding’s that’s toughest.”

He stroked her hair gently, brushing errant locks from her forehead. “Only you DarClamant women would be crazy enough to go through this three times,” he said softly.

Poul’s voice was so heavily laced with sarcastic gravity that Rafella actually laughed aloud, her nightmare all but forgotten.

“Careful, my Queen,” he went on, now chuckling himself. “You’ll wake the dread babe Graecanna.”

“She sleeps through anything now,” she replied, matter-of-fact, her laughter winding down. “We could take her to Dorn in the height of winter and she’d only wake up if she was hungry.”

“She gets that from your side,” Poul teased. “Dead to the world when you’re asleep, the lot of you. And why in the world would we want to take her to Dorn in winter?”

“If I’d known you talked this much in the middle of the night, I never would have married you, Poul cer Livan.”

“Of course you’d have married me,” he retorted. “I’m a charming rogue. None can resist the charming rogue.”

Rafella laughed again, helplessly. “You’re right, of course,” she said, and kissed him again. “I’m powerless against your many charms.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying these last three years.”

“I’m going to check on Gracie,” Rafella said, bracing a hand against his chest to lift herself to a sitting position. He gave a little grunt of mock pain, for which she gave him a playful tap of admonition. “Do you think it’s grown cold in here? The brazier seems to be out.”

“I thought it seemed too dark in here. Didn’t Manse replenish the coals before we retired for the night?”

Rafella frowned as she stood and found her robe by touch, hanging from the head-post on her side of the bed. “I guess he didn’t,” she said, shrugging on the light satin garment, tying the belt loosely around her waist. “Though I could have sworn that he did.”

Poul propped himself up on his elbows. “Do you want me to see if I can re-stoke it?” he asked.

“I’m perfectly able of stoking some coals, my brave Prince Consort,” she said playfully, though with the slightest note of irritation riding under that playfulness. Poul still slipped back into what Rafella privately referred to as “Continental thinking” without realizing it, which she had found annoying to the point of anger in the first months of their marriage. Though she had learned to deal with the annoyance – Poul couldn’t help his upbringing, after all, and it wasn’t his fault that the so-called enlightened Altessans on the Continent treated women like the most fragile of crystal, to be put out only for display and never to be touched lest they break – and though Poul was getting better about checking the instinctual chauvinist reactions instilled by more than twenty years immersed in the upper echelons of Altessan society, it only made the times when he did let his “Continental thinking” get the better of him stick in her craw that much more.

Of course, if she was honest with herself, it certainly didn’t help that she had inherited her father’s famous short temper. The rows she and Poul had had during the first year of their marriage had become the stuff of legend to the Keep’s servants, if Manse was to be believed. She was getting better about that, though there were still times when she wanted to take Poul’s overprotective attitudes and stuff them down his throat.

Not that she’d ever admit that aloud.

“I’m up, anyway,” she went on, the hint of irritation now gone from her voice. “No sense in you getting up, too.”

“You have the right of it, as always, my Queen,” Poul said, affecting the pronounced accent favored in the Altessan Court in Cinten. He sat up fully in the bed and somehow managed to execute the sweeping bow also favored in Cinten, his hand spinning thrice as it came down from above his head in an exaggerated arc before tucking neatly into his midsection as he folded over. From this position, and in the same affected accent as before, he continued, his voice muffled by the blankets, “And might I be the first to say that you possess a keen intellect and a sparkling wit!”

Rafella laughed in spite of herself. He may still be a chauvinist boar, she thought with a smile. But at least he’s a self-deprecating chauvinist boar.

Aloud, she said, in mock exasperation, “How you can manage to be so amusing in the middle of the night is beyond me. I guess I’ll have to keep you around a while longer.”

“And mercy, too!” Poul exclaimed, still using the ridiculous accent, still bent over at the waist in faux obeisance. “Surely, you are the perfect specimen of woman!”

Now she giggled, unable to stop herself, hating the way it made her sound like an 8-year-old girl. “Shush,” she said, still giggling. “You really will wake Gracie if you keep carrying on like that.”

She made her way slowly around the bed, bare feet padding silently on the cold stone floor, finding the big brass brazier in the center of their large sleeping quarters by the instinctual direction of one who has become accustomed to waking in the dead of night. True, Graecanna had been sleeping through the night for the better part of two months now – ever since she’d passed her first birthday, in fact – but Rafella had eschewed a wet nurse after her daughter’s birth (unusual, but not unheard of in the history of DarClamant women on the throne of Roon), and so had grown used to the feedings in the middle of the night. A part of her, larger than she was willing to admit, missed those intimate moments in the dark with Gracie, just the two of them in the ancient oaken rocking chair that had been in her family for as long as anyone could remember. Sharing a closeness that could not be adequately explained by words alone, Gracie suckling at her breast quietly, half-asleep, one small, perfect hand curled into Rafella’s auburn hair, the warm weight of her in Rafella’s lap more comfort than burden. This part of Rafella quietly despaired at the disconnection of that bond; even though Gracie would not be fully weaned for months yet, she felt that the secret closeness of their midnight times was gone, that her daughter was now somehow further from her than before. She’d not been prepared for the power of this bond, nor the shallow emptiness that the separation of that bond had left in her. She supposed her own mother had gone through something like this when Rafella had been Gracie’s age, but this was intellectual knowledge. The part of her that so keenly felt that separation was convinced she was the only woman in the world who knew this loss.

She’s growing so fast, Rafella thought, and the logical part of her winced at the naked anguish in the tone. She’s growing so fast, before I know it she won’t even need me anymore.

Rafella shook her head, silently chiding herself for her selfishness as she reached the brazier and reached down a hand to hover just above the brass. Sure enough, barely any heat radiated from the metal – its surface would be lukewarm at best, cool enough to touch. Manse must not have refreshed the coals before they retired, after all.

Kneeling, she reached out and found the latch to the brazier’s door by touch and opened it. Inside, the nearly-spent coals lay in a desultory heap, only barely glowing, casting a faint, pale orange-pink glow on her face. She clucked to herself in disapproval, reaching under the brazier’s main compartment to the hopper that contained small logs and kindling, vowing to have a quiet word with Manse in the morning – spring may have come, but spring was still a cold time on Roon, especially here in the North, and she did not want her daughter to catch a fever at this late date.

Distracted, she nearly fell into the open brazier when Graecanna let out a sudden, terrified shriek.

“Mama!”

That single word, torn so clearly from her child’s throat, sent a spasm of fear down Rafella’s spine. She was up on her feet and moving before she could even consciously think about it, quickly crossing the remaining distance to Gracie’s cradle in the blackness with sure steps.

Gracie was just learning her words, could speak only a handful, and those only fitfully; more often than not she would babble gibberish incoherent to all save herself. “Mama” was one of the words she knew, but Rafella could count on one hand the number of times she had actually uttered the word before this night, and never had her daughter said it so distinctly, without the mushiness of a young mouth still learning to form itself around the strange sounds of speech. If Gracie hadn’t sounded so utterly frightened, Rafella’s heart might have swelled with love to hear it.

As it was, her heart had constricted with an unexplained, icy dread.

“Was that Gracie?” Poul asked, his voice concerned. She was only distantly aware that he spoke, and couldn’t be bother with a reply.

“Mama’s here, Gracie,” she said, and marveled at how calm and soothing her voice sounded to her ears when she felt anything but calm and soothed. She reached into the simple wooden crib – again, another article that had been in her family seemingly since time began, the wood rubbed smooth by the restless searchings of countless little hands – and laid her hands on her baby, whose single cry of fear had descended into wordless whimpering. Gracie was thrashing about in her swaddling clothes, the soft linens crumpled and twisted up in her small legs. “Shhh, Mama’s here, baby, everything’s all right.”

“Mama…” the child whined softly. “Mamamamamama … NO!”

This last as loud as her first cry, and as distinct. Graecanna was clearly scared, but she also appeared not to have woken up. Just a nightmare, then.

So why was she not reassured? Why was her stomach clenched with her own fear?

“Shhh, baby, shhh,” she crooned, stroking her forehead. Her fingers came away clammy with night sweat. “Shhh, it’s just a bad dream, Gracie, just a bad dream…”

She felt a hand suddenly drop on her shoulder and had to stifle a scream. She whipped around –

– to find Poul standing there, a half-seen outline in the gloom, the hand he had placed on her shoulder still raised in the air, as if he’d touched something hot.

She had not heard him approach.

“Poul,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Frightened me.”

She saw him give a little shake of his head – think nothing of it – though couldn’t see his face to read his expression. “Is she all right?” he asked, coming up beside her. He rested his hands on the crib rail and looked down at their daughter, still restless in the throes of her nightmare. “I think she’s still asleep.”

Rafella nodded and continued to stroke her daughter’s forehead. “She’s having a nightmare.”

“Some nightmare,” he said quietly, reaching his own hand down and caressing Graecanna’s downy strawberry hair. “Did you hear her say – ?”

“Yes,” Rafella said simply. “Scared me half to death.” She laughed weakly, without much humor. “And here I’ve been trying to get her to call me ‘Mama’ more often, instead of ‘Baba’.”

Poul put his arm around her shoulders protectively – and, this time, she was glad of his protectiveness. She still felt oddly uneasy, and his loose embrace was reassuring, began to calm her jittery nerves.

Which only made what came next harder on Rafella.

“Hair!” Graecanna said in a high, clear voice, and then, amazingly, she sat straight up in the cradle, the movement so sudden that it caused both of her parents to take an involuntary step back. The infant – almost a toddler, really – whipped her head around from side to side; Rafella could see the large white orbs of her eyes as they danced back and forth, seeming almost to float of their own volition in the darkness. “Mama! Hair! No! Hair!”

The hairs on the back of Rafella’s neck stood on end, as her nightmare came rushing back into her mind, the thing with no face that her mother had become, cruelly grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking …

“By the God,” she heard Poul breath from beside her. “What kind of dream is she having?”

“I don’t know.” Rafella’s voice came out barely above a whisper.

“We should wake her,” her husband said with authority. Then, more hesitantly: “Should we wake her? Is this like sleepwalking? My Nan used to tell me you could kill someone if you woke them while they were walking in their sleep.”

“Hair,” Gracie moaned, and, to their horror, grabbed two handfuls of her own hair in her perfect little hands and began to pull.

“By the God!” Poul exclaimed again.

“Gracie!” Rafella yelped, and reached forward.

Poul shot out his arm in front of her. “Don’t – “

“I don’t care what your stupid Nan said!” Rafella was nearly screaming now, a hard, fast panic bubbling inside her like water about to come to boil. In the cradle, Graecanna was still sitting up, still trying to pull out her own hair, her moaning growing louder, almost a howl, now. “We’ve got to stop her! She’s hurting herself, Poul!”

She roughly pushed his arm away and, almost a continuation of the same movement, stepped forward and scooped her daughter up into her arms. Gracie didn’t appear to notice – she kept right on keening and tugging at her hair, tossing her head from side to side, her eyes staring sightlessly. Rafella began to rock back and forth, muttering wordless hushes and trying with one hand to untangle Gracie’s hands from her night-mussed hair, with little success.

“Poul,” she hissed, in between quiet coos. “Help me!”

“Hair!” Gracie shrieked, as if in answer.

Poul, who had been staring dumbly, unbelieving, at the scene for a handful of heartbeats, blinked at his daughter’s harsh cry. It seemed to wake him from a trance, for he shook his head (as if to clear it) and stepped forward, his hands reaching out to grab Gracie’s –

– and that was when the door to their sleeping quarters flew open, the large, carved oaken slab nearly ripped from its hinges, slamming into the wall with a jarring crash.

(To be continued...)

The One Where He Slaps His Head And Goes, "Duh!"

2005-11-03T20:48:00.000-05:00

Yeah, so, I might have forgotten to mention that the novel I'm writing for NaNoWriMo is an epic fantasy - nay, a masterwork of epic fantasy! - entitled The Root and the Way. This is a story that's been percolating in my head since 2000, but is actually set in a world that I created waaaaaay back when in 1988, when I was all of 13 years old. Uh huh: I'm that much of a genius.

And, yes, smart-ass: I have been a geek for most of my life. Point?

Um... anyway, this masterwork of epic fantasy is fairly standard, as masterworks go. There's a prophecy, an evil empire, an innocent child who is destined for Great Things, mysterious mages who may or may not have their own agendas, and, of course, The Little Island Nation That Could. There are dueling magic systems, warrior-priests, a mysterious plague, portents of doom, war, and dark magical beings bent on their own personal whatevers. And, in case you were wondering: yup, there's a bit of a quest in there, as well. Just what the quest entails and who participates are things I'm still working out, but that, friend, is the magic and wonder of writing.

So, there it is. Probably should have explained that before I started posting excerpts from the thing, huh?

off

2005-11-03T19:17:00.000-05:00

My son wanted to write something on the internets. Here's your big chance, boyo!

(Drumroll, please...)

off

Ta-da!

He's gonna take after his old man, just you wait.

The Root and the Way - Prologue - Part I

2005-11-03T19:05:00.000-05:00

Rafella was a child again.

It was her eighth birthday, the day of her first Binding, the sun spring-bright through the windows of the Hall of Monir, dust motes lazily playing in the golden shafts of light. Monir was the smallest of the Audience Halls - though it could still easily hold seventy-five or more - but it was the way the sunlight fell through the tall windows in the long, narrow room that had caused Rafella to choose this place for her first Binding Day celebration. She had always loved the sun, and Monir was the brightest room in the Keep, especially on spring afternoons when the promise of summer could be felt in the air and the gloom rains of winter were starting to become a memory. Mother had given her the choice, and Monir it was.

She sat now on the steps leading up to the dais at the north end of Monir, watching as Granil and Stepan pretended at swords. The tables and chairs had been cleared out of the hall after the meal, and her two younger brothers raced up and down the room on the elegant Baramundi rug, waving their wooden blades at one another, occasionally stopping long enough to exchange a few glancing strokes. Father and Mother sat, uncharacteristically, on the steps just above her, Father’s arm casually draped around Mother’s shoulders in a show of affection never witnessed by the rest of the world. At the far end of the steps, below and to the right of Rafella, sat the wet nurse with baby Reice. There was no one else. The other members of the Court had been dismissed after the meal and the initial presentation of gifts. It was considered … unusual, and there were sure to be whispers about it among the noble wives for weeks to come, but Mother had allowed it without hesitation.

For that, Rafella was grateful. This was, truly, as she’d wanted it. It was her first Binding Day, the first of three. She was to be Queen one day.

She turned now to her parents. “This has been a perfect day,” she said to them, her smile radiant, a band of sunlight falling across her auburn hair and seemingly setting it aflame. “Thank you.”

“It has been perfect, or near enough as to make no difference,” her father said in his smooth, even baritone. His gray eyes were bright with contentment as he leaned over and gently kissed the top of his wife’s head. “We DarClamants know how to throw a party, don’t we, love?”

“That we do, my dear,” her mother said, reaching up without looking to idly scratch at Father’s slightly-unkempt beard. The beard was starting to get more gray in it, Rafella noticed.

[Odd. She didn’t remember noticing that.]

“Have you enjoyed your first Binding Day, Rafella?” Mother asked her now, and she realized she’d been staring at her father’s beard distractedly. She looked to her mother, but she couldn’t see her face because of the way the sunlight was falling through the window in the east wall. Her mother was backlit, the sun streaming all round her head, and the auburn hair from whence Rafella’s own locks came were haloed by a corona of light. So much so that Mother’s face was cast entirely in shadow.

“Yes, Mother,” she answered, squinting, trying to see past the glare. “Thank you for letting me do this. I wanted there to be some time for just the family.”

“Of course, dear. A Princess should be allowed to celebrate her Day in some semblance of privacy.

“Though you won’t be Queen for long, I fear.”

Rafella nearly stopped breathing. Had she just heard Mother correctly?

[No. Mother never said that.]

“Mother,” Rafella said slowly, climbing up a step. “I can’t see you. Could you come out of the light?”

“Out of the light!” Granil called from halfway down the Hall, in between parrying blows from Stepan’s wooden sword. “No light here, sister!”

“No light here, sister!” Stepan parroted, as he was wont to do.

Rafella spun on her heel. “Shut it, Granil!”

“Language, Rafella,” her father cautioned from behind her. “A Queen does not use such words, even in private.”

“Even in the dark,” her mother chimed in.

A cold dread was forming in Rafella’s belly, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to leave Monir and go back to her rooms. Things had gotten strange suddenly, and she didn’t know why. She did know that she didn’t like it.

[She also knew that it didn’t happen this way.]

“Look at me, Rafella.” Mother, from behind her still.

It was the last thing she wanted to do now, and she had no idea why. “I’m watching the boys.”

“The boys can wait. Look at me.”

Rafella shook her head.

“Do not make me say it again, Rafella. I am you Mother, and your Queen.”

There was an ominous tone creeping into Mother’s voice, a distance that she’d never heard before and was beginning to truly frighten her. “I want to go to my rooms now,” she said, hating the petulant sound of her own voice and powerless to stop it. She was afraid, she didn’t want to be here anymore, and she most certainly did not want to look at her mother.

“Rafella Doann, do as your mother says,” Father intoned. His voice had dropped half an octave, the tone that which he used when attempting to strike the fear of the God into a subject. “The Voice of Doom”, he called it.

He rarely used it on her.

“I can’t, Papa,” she said, and to her horror realized she was starting to cry. “I’m scared.”

“We’re all scared, my daughter,” her mother answered, and Rafella heard her stand and come down the steps until she was standing right beside her. “It is natural, to be afraid of the dark. Look at me.”

“Please don’t make me,” she said in a tiny voice. She suddenly felt cold, and noticed that all the sunlight had somehow been leeched from the room. Rafella squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to deny the fear that was gripping her. “Please, Mama. Please don’t make me. It’s not supposed to be this way, it doesn’t happen this way, please, Mama. It doesn’t happen this way.”

“Of course it does, Rafella,” she heard her mother say, her voice gone steely and hard, not the soft, rich contralto that Rafella knew. Roughly, she felt her mother grip her chin and physically turn Rafella’s head to face her. Then, against her will, she felt her eyelids begin to part.

“Mama, please, don’t!” Rafella screamed, fighting and failing to keep her eyes closed. “It doesn’t happen this way!”

It was no use. Her eyes were open. And the dread she’d felt in the pit of her belly was nothing compared to the utter terror seizing her now.

Her mother’s face was gone. Where there should have been deep, green, almond-shaped eyes and aquiline features and smile that made Rafella feel as if she were the only girl in all the world, now was nothing. Black emptiness, perfectly, obscenely framed by her mother’s auburn tresses. And from within this void came her mother’s voice again. Rafella thought she could hear a cold, dead smile in that voice.

“Of course it happens this way, my daughter,” the thing that was her mother said. “This is what happens in the dark.”

Without warning, the thing that was her mother and was not her mother grabbed a handful of Rafella’s hair in its free hand and yanked. Sickeningly, she heard the locks rip free from her scalp, but this was immediately drowned out by the howling pain in her head. Rafella let out an involuntary, wordless cry, and began to sink to her knees, only to find herself propped up by the hand of her mother/not-mother under her chin.

“Mother…” Rafella croaked.

“This is what happens in the dark,” her mother/not-mother repeated coldly, and with sudden, demon strength, the thing lifted Rafella off the ground by her chin and brought her close to the gaping maw was its face. A deep, terrible cold washed over Rafella in waves.

“And the dark is what happens to us all, my dear.”

Rafella screamed --

(To be continued...)

The Root and the Way copyright © 2005 by JP Brassard. You may use any part of this text freely, so long as you do not use it in a commercial enterprise, and do not intend to rip me off.

Fair Winds and Fine Sailing

2005-11-03T17:53:00.000-05:00

So, my long-neglected blog - which, I'm fairly certain, absolutely no one but me has ever even glanced at - has gotten the overdue revamp. Not that I'm going to use it for my mundane thoughts, though those'll pop up from time to time. I'm not a big fan of spilling my guts, to anyone, really, but especially not on the internets. But there'll be times, I'm sure, where I'll want to get a rant or a screed or a tract or whatever bile happens to be stuck in my throat off my mind, and what better way to do that than by sharing said rant/screed/tract/bile with a bunch of strangers I'll never see, let alone meet? Seems like the thing to do, really. It is what all the Kool Kidz are doing.

No, the reason the blog got the touch-up was because I'm doing NaNoWriMo for the second year in a row, and thought that maybe - just maybe, mind you - that posting excerpts of the novel-in-progress and periodic progress reports to my blog might make this whole insane endeavor more concrete, somehow. Make me take it a little more seriously. See? It's in print! PRINT, damn you! You can't take it back now!

(Conveniently forcing myself to forget about the "Delete Post" button.)

Anyway... them's the reasons for the re-launch of "Notes from Limboland". Hope all two of you enjoy it.

Cheers!

The obligatory test post

2005-11-03T17:06:00.000-05:00

This is only a test. Adjust expectations accordingly.

That is all.