Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Have I Spilled the Existential Beans?

A quickie. I'm in frenzied preparation for a houseguest, two actually, in series. I'm advising them not to dig too deeply beneath the surface tidiness, which has been steam blasted and sanitized, to the deeper archaeological rubble of persons beneath. Dark corners should be feared, obviously. Every 6 year-old knows that.

Here are a couple of sites to help moderns make philosophical sense of the world. However, we're not going to be referring back to those pompous old Greeks or Enlightenment know-it-alls. We're going to use the materials closest to hand: monkeys and Stooges.

Inside the Monkeysphere is self-explanatory, but for Dr. Will's take on men and Stooges, you'll have to scroll down to April 18th. (Think about permalinks, Doc.) Also, I'm not the only one of the XX crowd I know who finds the world of the Stooges muy agradable, so put that one in Larry's hair-do and smoke it.

Disclaimer: I do not necessarily adhere to the rationales presented by these websites, though they each make compelling points, but we're talking about YOU here, the grasping you who do not yet have all the answers, not me, cheerily self-satisfied in my omnipotence. From these sites' meanderings, you may perhaps assemble a little more of the grand mosaic of Meaning. Will the final picture look like a cow in a meadow or an interstellar jet ski? Cow on jet ski? Telling you would ruin the surprise, but such investigations as these make the process of discovery more than half the fun.

Thanks to April and Noelle for the links. A Dogpile image search for the terms "interstellar cow jet ski" yielded no results, which may indicate I've loosed a bit more out of the bag of Being than this world is prepared to know. I did, however, find the above book of indoctrination for children. Given the number of current technologies envisioned by sci-fi writers as long as a century ago, you may decide for yourself if William Sleator is a madman or slightly under half-a-prophet.

Friday, April 20, 2007

Eat, Drink, Overflow Your Bookmarks

I haven't completely adapted to the new math of my blogging. I'm group blogging over at Women of Mystery, which I continue to flog for obvious and silly reasons. But that's not really the place for the odd, thematic collections of pages I somehow continue saving. Here's where I've learned to unburden myself of those items, and still find myself enjoying it. Onto the goodies.

1) A food writer realizes he has a disposition towards gout and sky-high cholesterol right before he goes on a week-long exploration of Edwardian eating: formal dress, 5 viscous and multi-coursed meals a day, no liquid but hooch and coffee. For once, a supersizing experiment with class and pedigree, until he describes the digestive effects, that is.

2) Just because I like the phrase, read how binging tipplers may benefit from a "liver holiday".

3) The Celebrity Weighing Scale doesn't bother you with all those confusing digits. Rather, it supplies your notoriety coefficient in mass. Do you weigh as much as Goldie Hawn or Mr. Ed, Trump's Combover or Yoda? Cheap at $34.95.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Here's Where

I remind you and myself not to Borrow Trouble. You know what I mean. If you follow every horror that occurs somewhere, many of which we only now discover in real time due to the successes of technological civilization, you'll spend (okay, I'll spend) days following coverage of nothing else in a torpor of morbid empathy. But plenty enough people will be weeping today. If you don't have intimate cause to do so, help counterbalance the world's sorrows with your own cheer. There's nothing wrong with being glad, as long as you're not an insensitive jerk about it. Nature agrees.

These glorious moths drink the tears of sleeping birds. Some butterflies drink antelope's tears, or even the legendary ones from crocodiles. Amazing. If you are down today, may a greedy and magnificent butterfly suck out the sadness with his proboscis of joy.

Image of Peacock butterfly from this site with other lovely flora and fauna pics.
For fresh scriveno-centric,biblio-centric ,and crimino-centric content, refer to Women of Mystery.

Friday, April 13, 2007

At Least One New Place For Posts

Though posting through Firefox is better, recently I've been posting most frequently at a new group blog for female crime writers called Women of Mystery. I'm only obliged to post once a week, but there are enough people to create a steady flow of fresh entries. You may guess for yourself which one I am. No prize, since it's not that big a secret.

Yes, there's much less of an odd-news focus there, but I am trying to make tangible progress in publishing this year, so I'm keeping my focus tightly on my creations and less of the wild-and-wooly-gathering that I'm prone to indulging. I will also be setting up a site under my own name as a writing site and another for the graphic novel, which is currently being inked and is, therefore, in perilous danger of actually existing.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

WHO AM I????

Image from here.

If you're like me, you spend a fair bit of life piddling away spurts of your own actual potential, taking quizzes to figure out what you're really like when you already know what the answer is: LAZY BASTARD.

In that spirit, via Bonnie, here's a detailed quiz by actual dog show people to discover what kind of dog you are, personalitywise. According to them, I'm a Golden Retriever, but I have my doubts. It was surprising to me how extensive and undoggy the personality questions are, but the Golden's fabled industry and constancy don't exactly seem to mesh with my incredible failings in those areas.

Of course, this other, shorter quiz (not by dog show people) says I'm a Jack Russell terrier.

Who can I trust to tell me the truth when the dog-personality quiz people can't even agree? I do believe, however, that self-absorbed emo about my schizophrenic failure to be genuinely grasped in a canine analog can divert me from productivity for another hour or two. Too....sad....and confused.....to write. Pass the broken cookies, and rev up the Murder, She Wrote. I am bereft of hope and require comfort!

P.S. Firefox works way better for posting in the new Blogger. So that's good. But I'm still not working.