Saturday, April 30, 2005

thing one & thing fish

Time works in bizarre and convoluted ways, twisting us over like Moebius strips. know what i mean?


Maxwell's, Hoboken.

it would have been stranger still if i'd found them at random, but it was still a surreal experience--always is a strange experience--to encounter people you've known for 20 years, which in my case is most of my short life, & particularly at a rat-in-a-maze location like the Knitting Factory. but that's where i encountered Thing One.

what do you say when suddenly someone you mostly remember for a mop of blond hair & crush he had on you in second grade is playing badass fretless bass in a tight band that sounds like the lovechild of 70s funk, oldschool R&B, & jam-jazz? can 3 genres have a lovechild? hmmm. i think that's a failed metaphor. it's like more upbeat Portishead, or grittier G. Love, with a slice of Red Hot Chili Peppers.

i caught them last night at Maxwell's in Hoboken--pause a moment, to state for the record, that i passionately dislike Hoboken (for too many reasons to get into right here & now)--& they were hot. saxophones are always a good thing. i've developed a new affection for the Rhodes. the vocals get into this fugue-like state of variations & become another face of instrumentation--am i making sense?

& somehow the music is a reflection of me--which is partly geography & partly the connections between people, sustained, & also something else that has a feeling of an era about it.

(& thanks to them i've learned what a mellotron is.)

disclaimer: i may be a wee biased. i mean, i opened the album cover & there was a picture of the front door of the building where i went to kindergarten.

at any rate, the tourist has been updated with some photos, none of which are that great as i was grooving at the back of the room & apparently my flash doesn't travel near far enough in near darkness--but even distorted strange light photos can communicate the image, the mood, vibe, energy, setting, tone, etcetera.

check them out, they're totally worthwhile.

take me fishing because

there's nothing else like it.

as for actual fishing with a line & a lure, i've done it on occasion. i have one beautiful golden memory at a lake with my Grandpere catching sunnys in the shallows of a lake all rimmed with yellow reeds & goldenrod. splash, splash, sunlight. isn't that pretty?

there's nothing like Saturday morning TV. (it's afternoon now, so it's Laugh In, which is a bit different. Saturday afternoons tend to wander into old kung fu flicks or random scifi.) i watched an Animal Planet segment on Betta Splenden, the "siamese fighting fish". nature is so utterly varied & confounding. makes me want to know everything knowable. hmm.
incidently there was also a segment on Tasmanian Devils which will probably give me nightmares.

& of course there were these commercials, which in my fish-following state i found oddly poignant. what can i say, i get emotional over some strange things at times, & i was feeling nostalgic already. more on that later. for now i might check out SpeedGrapher, which seems to be a strange & distorted little tale.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

Mark Twain's Fish


Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted;
persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished;
persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.
By Order of the Author per G.G., Chief of Ordnance

Mark Twain, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn


ohmygod! IT'S SNOWING!!!!!!

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

may the fish be with you

so what if i missed the original theatrical release by just over a year? star wars has lived in my soul for just about as long as i've been alive. i used to make the neighbor-girl be princess leia and sit under a table in her cell while i ran around the house shooting storm troopers. she was a sport and played along like any five year old with an imagination would. my x-wing's s-foils were juryrigged open with twelve-cord (which my father had in abundance and also provided the ziplines for my gi joes, the pliable bastards) because i'd put it through the trench run so many times that, nevermind the force, luke just had the law of averages against him.
it was a yahoo article giving me happy news during these dark times. a 3-d animated expansion on the clone wars, which is the best bit of star wars to come out since empire in 1980, and a live action tv series which i was a little apprehensive about upon first reading. what made me excited about it was reading that lucas plans to just get the bowl rolling and then step away. it will focus on the events between revenge and a new hope. to top it off, there are plans to release all six movies in '07 on imax. that kinda makes me tingle.
revenge of the sith is less than a month away and i'm getting the itch. i haven't had a trilogy day for 5 years. episode's 1 & 2 made me put star wars down for a while. there's a cool kind of anticipation just chillin in side of me cos it knows what i know. that this final movie is really going to kick ass.
when all is said and done, i think that 3-4-5 will be looked at as the core part of it. the rest is just exposition and resolution.


Obi-Wan, my Numbah One


the close second


lando calrissian, the baddest mofo in the galaxy.

i could go on, but the only other character i'd like to touch upon is han solo, and his unfortunate emasculation. it's bad enough that the badass smuggler we all knew and loved had turned into leia's bitch by the time jedi rolled around, but the special edition of a new hope just killed me. han shot first because he got the drop on greedo, the rodian bastard. he was a bloody pirate, and that's what pirates do. bad form, mr. lucas. the only other gripe i've got with the special editions comes from empire, and that's luke's enhanced scream as he falls through the bowels of cloud city. my response to the original - wow, luke would rather risk almost certain death than join vader. response to the special edition - oh look, luke slipped and now he screaming like a pansy. huge difference.

and finally, just cos it's the coolest Corellian freighter in the universe


the millenium falcon

inspirational fish

my fish may not have mottos exactly, but it sure likes to talk


Do one brave thing today... then run like hell!

Do something that scares you everyday.

...the adventure may be mad, but the adventurer must be sane.
-G.K. Chesterton

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-Dylan Thomas

May you live all the days of your life.
-Jonathan Swift

Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.
-Isaac Asimov

Never knock on Death's door: ring the bell and run away! Death really hates that!
-Matt Frewer

Seriousness is the only refuge of the shallow.
-Oscar Wilde

I am not young enough to know everything.
-Oscar Wilde

The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is at all comprehensible.
-Albert Einstein

I am here by the will of the people and I'm not leaving until I get my rain coat back!
-Dream Years by Lisa Goldstein

A countryman between two lawyers is like a fish between two cats.
-Benjamin Franklin

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
-Mark Twain

Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint.
-Mark Twain

I am very gullible. I believe everything I say, even though I know I'm a liar.
-Lord of Light by Roger Zalazny

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
-Cyril Connolly

Say not, 'I have found the truth,' but rather, 'I have found a truth.'
-Kahlil Gibran

How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?
-Sherlock Holmes (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

The difficult I will do now; the impossible might take a while.

We the willing, led by the unknowing, are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. We have done so much, with so little, for so long, we are now qualified to do anything, with nothing.
-The Metro Para pledge

Be as radical as reality.
-Lenin

I learn of other people's thoughts to ultimately understand my own.

Ok, that's probably more than enough for today. If I didn't attribute the quote it's because I didn't know who to give the credit to. I welcome anyone correcting me on my attributions. And perhaps next time, if you are good little fishies, I will add links...

catalog of fish

i never seem to have enough time these days. so i'm going to slip into L-space for a moment, wherein lies all the time i need--if i remember to bring a banana.

though i still don't have time to make sense, so you'll have to bear with me through these teetering stacks of randomness as i do a little fishing amongst all these windows i've been hanging on to. then later today perhaps i can get to the interchangeable Emmas & really get down to bitching about my new job.

volume 1: travel in time & space
this photo gallery will whisk you off to Palestine in the early 20th century. your safety is not guaranteed.

volume 2: the movement of the stars
create a sky chart for wheresoever you may be in the universe

volume 3: how to be an illegal alien in NY
according to mimi. do not try this at home.

volume 4: the fantasies of children
Neil Gaiman on C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkein, & G.K. Chesterton.

volume 5: the secret songs of llamas
if i could remember the origin of this, i would credit it, i swear. but i can't, so i'll take all the credit. have a banana.

volume 6: 101 ways to make fun of your government
if you'd like to see George Bush on hiphop, you'll like this.

volume 7: how to be a successful jerk
proof that Donald Rumsfeld is a dick. i will warn you, it was partly my wanderings about on the DoD's website that so infuriated me the other day.

volume 8: gods & monsters
no, not the film with Ian McKellan. the first chapter of Neil Gaiman's new book.

volume 9: howl
miyazaki (of Nausicaa & Spirited Away fame) has a new movie coming out. thank god for small graces. if it weren't for the glorious state of media at the moment, i'd be out of my gourd.

volume 10: the Hitchhiker's Guide to cinema
in case you can't wait till friday, or are having doubts as to the quality of the flick, herein lies all the film clips you need to get you through the week.

volume 23: the things celebreties do that normal people can't
Elton John's getting married.

volume 42: those crazy scientists
they want to redefine the kilogram.

volume 99: how to silence a right-winger
bizarre bible quotes to throw at anyone thumping at you.

flip through these, my friends, while i keep the Librarian distracted. i'm pretty sure i found him in a bar last weekend...



ooooook.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Turtle Tuesday and other things you find around the house

Well, I'd like to thank all you little fishes for bearing the brunt of my outbursts - I will aspire to continue with my chin up, my feet on the ground, my nose to the grindstone and other such cheerful daffodils... in the meantime, maybe you could help me with some dream(imagery) images.

First and foremost, I find it insufferably apropos to wake with Dali on the brain and melting clocks following me all the way to the bus and into work. So now I bring them to you to dance merrily in your head for the rest of the day:


This painting called the Persistence of Memory has significant meaning for me, especially at the advent or cessation of sleep and dreaming.

There was a creature in my dream last night - I'm pretty sure I was sitting on its back while it flew over the city (I think it was taking me to Jersey for some reason) - and when I woke up I couldn't remember the name of the creature.

I found it though - I was riding a Manticore. Yay Internet!

This Huge mythical beast was a lion-like creature with the head (or just ears and nose) of a human, leather wings like those of a bat and the tail of a scorpion (though sometimes it is depicted with a tail that either shoots fire or spines). Here's a few examples:
This is an early drawing of the manticore - notice the tail and the head.

This is an artist's rendition of a greek manticore by Red Scharlach.

More often though, the modern age has changed the manticore as it has changed the unicorn and many other mythological creatures. Often the human features are dropped (perhaps because that's too disturbing, or just not aesthetically pleasing). This last image from The Last Unicorn movie, which has been referred to elsewhere in this blog.


My #1 result for the SelectSmart.com selector, Which Last Unicorn character are you?, is Molly Grue.

Ok, so I seemed to have gotten off on a tangent. I'm not sure what the manticore in my dream could mean, except possibility that I've been playing too many video games.

I promised turtles in the title of this post so turtles ye shall have: check out the catch of the day, but as for the rest of the title - I never promised to be a sequitur.



Monday, April 25, 2005

short fuse fish

natural habitat, the New York metro area.

i have no time, but suffice to say (& i really need to say this to someone):


Injustice really %#@&!ing pisses me off.


ps. i don't know why you can try to email my cussing, so don't ask.

rainy mangy monday fish

So it's Monday and rainy and cold and above all - Monday. I fell asleep on the couch (way past my bedtime), over-slept, missed my bus and had to stand in the misty-rain stuff for a half-an-hour(without a morning cigarette to smoke), until... I almost missed the next bus because I realized I forgot my keys. Not just the keys to my house but the pass keys to both my jobs and I didn't even get to have a cup of coffee this morning.

I hate being late to work. Most of the time, I'd rather call in sick (or dead), than late.

and mysfit sings:
"We’ll be sleeping in the flowers/
Tell my boss that I’ve been fired/
We'll be sleeping in the flowers/
Tell my boss that I'm Fiii-rred"

All right, I'll stop - I'll stop! There's no need to throw things at me - I mean, I can understand the tomatoes, but is there really a need for the watermelons? I was just singing lyrics from one of my favorite bands, They Might Be Giants, to make myself feel better. There's no need to get violent.

Anyways, even after that shitty morning and the fun (What-Fun!) of talking to irritated people on the phone, I'm actually in a pretty good mood. I guess it's cause I survived another existential breakdown (of which the fish felt some of the effect) and I always feel a bit purged when I question who the hell I am and what the hell I'm doing for an entire afternoon, nearly walking away from one of the best things in my life right now. Even though I still don't know, it's not so important today, very little other than base survival is important on Monday Mornings. But then, enough about me, enjoy the fish-appropriate cartoon:

Most of you fellow bloggers and friends have come to grips with the idea that jennsee and I are indeed different people who happen (just happen) to understand the fish and want to help other people follow their fish or our fish or what fish. But just in case you are still confused, here is a picture designed to help you distinguish between us (I'm the one with the bomb):

copyfish

since mysfit tried this on behalf of the fish i figure i should too:


Your love is... by ChibiMarronchan
Your name is...
Your kiss is...breath taking
Your hugs are...warm
Your eyes...light up a day
Your touch is...the only thing I desire
Your smell is...exotic
Your smile is...hypnotising
Your love is...one of a kind
Quiz created with MemeGen!

the fish is mysterious, to die for and amazing

so i'm obviously feeling better, thanks - sometimes, you know, you just have one of those "oh, my god, what am i doing?!" moments when the world ending seems like the least of your problems. Anyways enjoy the following quiz:

Your love is... by ChibiMarronchan
Your name is...
Your kiss is...mysterious
Your hugs are...to die for
Your eyes...light up a day
Your touch is...irresistible
Your smell is...amazing
Your smile is...amazing
Your love is...eternal
Quiz created with MemeGen!



ok, so this type of thing isn't something i'd usually post (feel like i should add pansies) - i guess sometimes you need to do things and consider things you never would, just to figure out where you stand.

kung fu fish

because it was awesome, & to make mysfit grin, i hereby declare that Kung Fu Hustle kicks more ass than...than...hmmmm. it's too early for metaphors. go see this movie, it'll beat the crap out of your brain in that good way.


the fated lovers, my favorite characters


for some ungodly reason i'm up earlier than i had to be this morn--i've an early shift at work & didn't know how long i'd need to get ready--not very long, apparently, so here i is blogging before 7 am, & not from the other side. silly me.

go see this movie before i come winging throught the air to dance on your head about it.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
the courage to change the things I can;
and the wisdom to know the difference.




I'm not sure about god, and know I can't change that I am me...

I pray (ache) for courage and wisdom...

90's fishback

all i can say is, Thank God for Beavis & Butthead, who for some reason are on in the background right now. i didn't think they'd let them air this sort of shit anymore.
i just wanted to share that with you all.

jukebox, Black Dog, Staten Island

Friday, April 22, 2005

The Fish Crosses Stories

So here's my attempt to continue the story crossing over the blogs. I throw my foot at fiction and hope you like it or hate it or at least read it :). Be brutal - it's been a while since I've worked on a story and I'm not sure, but I think this is one of the more unusual exercises I've ever seen. The story crossing was dremt up by the lovely Lucretia, continued by the talented forgottenmachine, followed by the imaginative Suzanna Danna and the ever creative Anne. This section is designed to follow Fense's descriptive addition and Gatsby has also added a part. You can read the whole story at Story-Crossing.


Brian Cane watched the car speed away, tires squealing and grinned. Soon the case would come to a head; soon it would be his time. He watched the woman—the sweet apple of his eye, his target, with that look of cruelty and the attitude of distain in her stance—adjust the moot perfection of her looks, finish her smoke and go back inside the club. He ached for her, as he ached for all his targets, but this one pulled at him more than any of the others, and he wanted to know why.

Brian Cane was one of the new breed of bounty hunters. For centuries the title “bounty hunter” had graced many heads, changing in definition as the time demanded, yes, but always meaning killer-for-hire, no matter what language you spoke. The only language Brian understood was money: he heard in money and spoke in blood. Some of the citizens referred to his kind as “Blade Runners”, an allusion to some movie or other Brian only vaguely remembered as a kid and from what he remembered, he didn’t mind the name. Now was the perfect time to be a killer-for-hire.

Since the advent of R.E.S.C.O.R. and the announcement of their revolutionary technique, Brian Cane had sat on the edge of his seat, awaiting the inevitable. In his head, the world was full of zombie flicks and now, heavens be praised, those fools who called themselves scientists had brought zombies into the real world, big as life and twice as colorful. He knew there’d be problems—dying changed people. Society wasn’t prepared for an influx of people who knew what it was like to die, of people knowing that death wasn’t the end any more. Religious groups were up-in-arms over the scientific and therefore sacrilegious resurrections and the courts didn’t know what rights to award the growing minority of “people” who were essentially the property of R.E.C.O.R.

Oh yes, there would be problems, and then, there would be him.

* * *

He felt sober. He felt scared.

Mike could feel his sobriety, a sharp white feeling lodged in the center of his brain. The car hummed and shook at the speed he forced it to go. That Bitch, he thought, and then liking the taste of the thought he said it out loud: “That Bitch.”

Ever since her reincarnation, for that was what it was—not a resurrection. Sure she looked and sounded like his wife but that was not her. The woman he had lived with and loved was dead and he just had come to grips with that.

“My wife is dead,” he said to the universe in general and his voice sounded shaky, unsure like he was fighting back tears, like he didn’t want to and couldn’t believe it. So he tried again. “My wife is dead!”

This time the words came out the way he wanted them to, like the way he wanted to face her: sure, steady and above all, in control of himself. But he wasn’t in control, not of anything. Damn R.E.S.C.O.R. and their need to defy death, life and God. Damn them for what they did to her, to him. If she was gone, dead and buried, then he could move on with his life, move onto mourning and get out of this slump he was in. If she was gone…

Mike shook his head to clear it. The anger was leaving him, draining away and all the alcohol he had downed at the club was coming back to him, a red mist threatening to totally overthrow his composure. He tried to disgorge thoughts of Kira, to focus on where he was going and what he had to do. But he didn’t care where he was going. It was enough that he was going away from her.

That bitch masquerading in his beloved wife’s visage, pretending that they still had a connection. It was fine for him to think these thoughts when she was not around, but the constant reminder of her presence, when she sought him out to torment him, did nothing but make him feel guilty. Guilty for letting her die, for not seeing the signs before, for not loving her anymore. What could he do? Every time he saw her, his heart thumped and for a minute wanted to throw his arms around her and—but then he’d see that look in those lovely eyes. The look that told him this wasn’t Kira, not his Kira anyways. That look hungered for his pain for the world’s pain, said the world owed her something and that she was going to take it, one way or another. A stranger parading as his dead wife—a zombie. Damn R.E.S.C.O.R.. Mike reached over, opened his glove compartment and took out the small bottle of whiskey he hid there for emergencies. He took a swig.

If she was gone, dead and buried, he could move on with his life…

"There are no passengers on Spaceship Earth. We are all crew." ~Marshall McLuhan, 1964


Horseshoe Falls, Niagara, NY


Happy Earth Day, a day we have designated for consideration of our Mother planet, because we don't think of her any other day.

in light of that, i don't know how many of you or how often you fishfollowers check out the school of links swimming about over there
<--------------------------------- but SaveOurEnvironment is a fantastic way to be aware & involved in some small fashion in the environmental struggle, because seriously, folks, we're running out of time, ecologically speaking. if you sign up to their mailing lists they send you alerts about environmental issues in current debates, & they, like True Majority only more specific, make it really easy to send letters to your, ahem, "representatives". i know this works because i've actually gotten responses from my senators & suchlike, which if not really personalized are at least directly responding to my position on whatever issue.

naturally i realize these organizations may be centered on the good ol' States, but i'm sure there are international equivalents.

do something nice for our mother today. please?

postscript: i took the "ecological footprint quiz" on that earth day page, & apparently, if everyone lived like me we'd need 2.9 Earths, & i'm about half as bad as most people around here.

post-post-script: speaking of destroying the earth, there's a film clip of Hitchhiker's floating out there, if, like me, you really have been planning this for months.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

unanswered fish and i thought i left those in philly...

i may have gotten back from our whirlwind weekend foray into upstate new york two days ago, but i've only just recovered...and just in time, too...


happy anarchy
saturday 4/23 @ 10pm
zoo city
170 so.  main street
new city, ny


we paid a visit to the sammies and played a party in their backyard.  it's been a while, but a college crowd is always a good crowd.  they had a funnel that ran down the side of the house from a third floor balcony which i wouldn't've gone near but it was impressive.  for pics from this weekend, direct your browsers to www.happyanarchy.com and also to jenn see's tourist of everything.  good pics.

we've got a gig in the district and two in philly coming up.  let us know if you need a ride.  we'll pick you up.  don't miss the chance to see the capital before it is inevitably destroyed by aliens or, at the very least, overrun by midget pigs from thailand that run, jump, and swim.

we had this great idea that we should get onto the warped tour.  to this end, we're getting involved with an online battle of the bands hosted by ernieball.com.  they make guitar strings.  voting starts in a few weeks so i won't start begging yet, just a heads up.

look at me, i'm tappen zee bridge

::tap tap tap::

see us: www.happyanarchy.com
write us: happyanarchy@happyanarchy.com


-t-

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

the only tornado story i have

hmmm. flash fiction. (ponder, ponder, oooooh butterfly...what was i doing?)

so banzai cat has been toying with writing in 15-minute intervals, & now it's all tangled up.

flash fiction, which is essentially a really really short story, is a very cool medium; "sudden" fiction, as it's also called, has always reminded me of a telling photograph or an impressionist painting. the whole is more than it's parts, kinda thing.

me, i'm godawful at fiction, as in, i suspect i lack the ability to make things up.
oddly enough i've told a fair number of lies in my time, & i seem adept enough at that.

relax, they were little white ones.

mostly.
with occasional Giant Technicolor Sharks of the Krakenful Deep.

& no one but my mother (who has special--if selective--radar for that sort of thing) has ever called me on it. hmmmmm.

point being, i love a good arbitrarily specific writing game (there was an entire month at one point when i wrote nothing but sonnets that consisted of lines ending with random words that random people would supply) but i can't write fiction, & am not entirely comfortable with bringing non-bloggie friends into the bloggie universe (basically, if your name isn't on the net already, i'm not gonna put it there), so what's about to ensue is a vaguely fictionalized autobiographical tangent of 15 minutes. it's a tale of 4/20, 2000.


She was twenty, drifting on the long green fields of middle Indiana. Having befriended the trees in Murder Park she realized that it was today, the clouds were rolling in all yellow & black over April daylight, & she had a class to attend over the river. I should never have worn these pants, she thought.

by the time the rains came, in sideways gray sheets of spring worthy of Eliot, she was treading water on the corner waiting for the bus, which came sleeting up alongside her in a vast & meaningless spray. At a certain point denim can get no more wet.

the driver, unapologetic, failed to notice her Greek shirt with the signs of long life running round her neck like a frieze. no one spoke.

Campus, in all its engineered & geometric glory, was strangely abandoned. the English building, like Murray Hall only derelict, echoed & slipped with traces from the wet outside. its vacancy was like a bell of paranoia in the back of her mind. What have I missed? there was no one to whom she could report. I know it's a holiday, she thought, squishing dreamlike through dreamlike corridors, But could there be that many stoners in Lafayette?

Wandering vaguely out into the rain again, there were figures drifting across the flat spaces like petite clouds. Less drifting than flowing. Less flowing than scudding. To the double doors of vast academic stairwells they rushed, like water over a curb, like Niagara Falls. Where were they going? What planet was this?

there was no one in the Union, there was no one beating Martians at pinball, there was no one at the ATM.

out onto the concrete circle, in the rain again, the fountain was shut down & it made no difference, rain & wind lifting eddies of water without pressure differentials to quantify the streams. she shifted her hands through the pool, rippling & splashing the surreal colors of the sky into a hundred new skies that splashed in & out of existence.

all this time there were sirens wailing, a symphony of emergency notes which she failed to really hear--her geography hadn't prepared her for the significance of that lonely horn.

they found her there, by the fountain. Had she seen the tornado?

What tornado?

they shuffled her off to the cellars, where the power flickered in & out of the lab where a dripping cross-section of academic life had found shelter, blinking in & out of websites at electricity's whim. contented, she scrolled intermittently through "A Diary of a Madman" & thought about the wind.




okay, that was about sixteen minutes, but i'll compensate by not editing at all.
so there.

the fish over water & its effects on language

perhaps you'd ask why anyone would drive many hours to Niagara Falls for an afternoon. perhaps not. if you did i'd say, to retrieve a linguist & his pal, of course. i can't decide if J is my best friend or the little brother i never had--i mean, i have a little brother, but he hasn't been a pain in the ass in over a decade--but either way, J's been out in Vancouver taking elicitations from salish-speaking squamish natives--or are they squamish-speaking salish?
& i don't get to see him much, proof of which is that all i knew about his work can be summed up as "never trust a salish vowel." (not to say this isn't excellent advice to be taken directly to heart.)

anyway, over the weekend they must have installed some huge electromagnet set to "linguist" frequencies (they're not far on the scale from "ludicrous speed" or maybe the pretty blue lines in a spectral analysis) in Buffalo, because linguistic types from all over the globe (which makes sense, if you think about it) were clustered about Buffalo like...like...cats to cream? or the linguistic equivalent of 5 am? ah yes, this is the point where my language breaks down.
& lo, my linguistical friend was drawn forth, to (almost) the east coast. tomorrow he's on the west coast, but that's a different story.

since i don't like wings (to eat, i mean) & i do like water, it was determined that the best thing to do with Buffalo is drive 20 miles west to the falls.

there's no way to describe them. (the tourist buttons try, though: "Niagara Falls--it just keeps going!" or something to that effect.)

the American Falls & the Horseshoe Falls, Niagara, NY (that's Canada over the water there)

there are any number of bridges & towers scattered about for more elevated perspectives (you can actually walk to Canada, over the Rainbow Bridge, but we didn't.) & of course it's a park too--supposedly the first State Park in the country--so there's paths & rails & statues & monuments, along with the "Cave of Winds" which was really the "walk of crap" reached via elevator. supposedly when the base of the falls (the Bridal Veil, in particular) is not covered in thirty feet of snow, this little tour gives a rather stunning view from below the falls. in reality, as we experienced it, one gets a rather stunning view of a rather stunning number of seagulls shitting everywhere & trying to mate on the cliffside (you can't see this from the park proper, you have to take a scary industrial elevator down to a "cave" (ie institutional-looking concrete hall). it smelled like a petting zoo. i commend them on there effort to provide for tourists, however, as exhibited by the 2 little yellow lawn sprinklers they had running in an effort to melt the aforementioned bank of snow.
what surprised me most was the color of the water--rivers, in the US northeast anyway, can be expected to emanate tones of green & brown & sludge--er, sediment. the water at Niagara was positively aquamarine.
& now i've learned about the plural possibilities inherent in morphemes (not to be confused with morphine, which is a word i've heard more often than usual today) & met a muppet linguist whose name i can't spell but sounds like Jgyergen.
more photos will be added to the tourist over the next few days as i cull through a hundred pictures of running water. already there are photos from the 2 gigs Happy Anarchy played (yes, yes, i know, that band makes up far too much of my social life) featuring girls little & girls dancing, & boys with instruments.
now i must research the topic of gays in the military & change out of my scrubs. dinner, also, is in order, with maybe a nice local merlot...& it's warm & for no good reason i smell leaves burning, & the wind dislodged every plant & window decoration in my absence today. damn spring wind.
or maybe it's a house burning.
end transmission.

quick fish

because all of a sudden i have 8 billion things to do. is that as many things to do as there are people on Earth?

the tourist has been updated with shots from the 2 HA gigs on Saturday. i'm a-workin' on my "event photography", let's call it, skills. so comments & [constructive] criticisms please (otherwise known as thoughts, comments, shrieks of outrage).

the story behind the weekend will have to wait till i have time to write. niagara pics too.
so wait for it.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005


had a strange & glorious adventure this weekend involving Niagara falls, a frat party, many highways in upstate NY, a lake in South Jersey, & some linguists. more updates to follow but i have to go accept a new job. when things start moving, they really move, don't they?

Monday, April 18, 2005

Belief

A man of quiet power and strength has recently died of cancer. The only thing I mourn about Carrison's passing was that I never knew him in life, but only stumbled upon him (via his words) after his passing. Reading this letter has reminded me that I need to make sure that those I care about know how much I appreciate their presences in my life.

I love you all.

I just wanted to share this with all the fish-fans. Thanks to Skrambled Ramblings for posting a link to the letter, thereby greatly enriching my life and letting me share this with the fish and on and on and on... (The Butterfly flaps it's wings). Thus i encourage all of you to spread this and whatever feeling Carrison inspires in you.

Peace,
mysfit

Friday, April 15, 2005

happy birth of genius -- Leonardo lives!


sketch for Leda, c. 1505-7

Leonardo Da Vinci, born this day, 1452. (Vinci was a small town in Tuscany).

where would we be without the Florentine renaissance?

"For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return."
or so he said, & so i believe.

the timeline of the fish

this's more obviously an old journal entry, but i had fun with the Chapters thing for awhile, & i love to indulge myself in long poems, & i wanted to bring them out again, dust them off, place them elegantly in the sunshine.

A Tale of late November.

In other words, Chapter 1: what Van Gogh's Ear has to say about everything.
I see the negative shadow on the screen.
I enjoy the lines of this place,
the patterns & crosses, the insistence of intersections on forms of motion.

all these machines seem to be smiling at me, gently, like children.
This is all choreographed--
what other explanation is there for such capricious creatures?

ship's log: Friday, the fourteenth. Orquesta Aragon, it's cold.
tonight we're managing media & travelling from Tokyo to the southwest
at a run, a levitating stretch.
Spanish guitar flickers on the linoleum
like soap candlelight.
This is not a metaphor this is what we do.

(tart wine, smell of warm cheese, fever chills, comics.)
Chapter 2: what uncharted territories mean to our efforts.
peregrine perestroika saccade
sacrareum sadhu apostolic epimerize
epigone concinnity concomitant
periphrasis perspicacity (grr) topos.

Thanks for families of dots of memory
& connections of leather love-seats where
he is sleeping.
is this how i'm grateful for fathers?
their vinyl memorials, the discordant flute re-collections,
somewhere we're in a tunnel, in a jar.

we're playing card games,
& in the other room they have inventions to share in 3-D,
hypothetical or promised good-nights,
something with heft
or soon to be vast
embraces of me, a new bedframe.
how should we keep this?
how long will it keep?

Chapter 2 Part 2: leftovers

PICKING
AT
THINGS
UNTIL
I
SLEEP
LIKE
YOU
LIKE
KITTY
SLEEPS
IN
ANABODA.
IS
THAT
SWEDISH?
YOU
SAY
NO.
I
SAY
IT'S
PUMPKIN
PIE-------------

she
looks
at
me
thru
veils
of
compact
discs
like
jewels
in
jewel
cases,
each
fantastic
tale
epics
of
emotional
feasts
and
in---------------

THE SKY------
& what of the sky?
wrapped in saran wrap & saved for later
she left with the unopened bottle of wine
for another day she's building a bar
& stains it with something dark.
you were sleeping.

Chapter 3: take this waltz
please

distance between the digits & I
that is sorted
through this film of things that go at night--
I--
I
I trust you will be
reflecting something in the dimness,
slivers of sun like those that hung
over the steep cities of all these bridges
& the silence of the tree graves
& the muted roar of the pyres
we're burning
our edges,
leaking into new regions
of understatement,
some cynical glee & things in thirties,
the minimum percentage of
procession into
arias of
digital streams,
the flow into
all
one
sea,
sea-creatures flailing.

EXTENDED WEATHER MONTAGE

the seasons are so timely this year,
but they don't last long.
she says, I want to make adventures.

November 2003


yes, well, i think that's enough chapters for the moment. anymore line breaks like that & mysfit might start beating me with the poetry stick.


I am

Suspended decision. Initiation, divination, prophecy. Turning point in psychic powers. Trust in inner voice. Suspension, change, reversal, boredom, abandonment, sacrifice, readjustment, improvement, rebirth.
He usually represents a time of feeling in limbo, being stuck or being prevented from moving forward. He's usually depicted hanging upside down with his hands tied - that's just what it feels like. We need to remain flexible and willing to let go of things, it's probably a time for sacrifice. Like the man in this card from the Murciano Tarot, don't sweat it, take some time out and be patient.
The Hanged Man - External Meaning: Spiritual awareness and the happiness and assuredness it brings. Sacrificing for a noble purpose. Reversal of one's current way of life. Inner peace. Developed intuition and prophecy. Esoteric Meaning: The spirit of the mighty waters. Reversing false images. Sacrifice. Energys: Water

Which tarot card are you?

Thursday, April 14, 2005

ooo, i've never been here before, oh look a castle, ooo, i've never been here before...

Will my fish be around after I die?

Like most humans, I have a desire to be around after I die. It's not that I want to live forever - death may be a great adventure. But even if it's not, I think like a good story, I want my life to have a good ending. Failing that, I guess any end will do. The problem is, I want to see what happens after I'm gone - or that very least, gone in the physical sense.

I'm pretty sure this is a common desire.

Most religions have some sort of life-after-death scenario where the "I" within the person that is me (the observer inside the machine; see Ghost in the Shell) continues in some manner after the body (the machine) dies. It is actually a defining difference between Eastern and Western religions as to what sort of state the "I"(self) continues. Western religions mostly believe that "I" continues as is, as a soul, without losing a sense of self or memory. While most Eastern religions believe in a transformation in which the "I" loses all sense of self and memory, becoming one with the all, or at the very least losing memory, as in re-incarnation.

You know, I was feeling quite metaphysical when I began the above discussion with the voices in my head. However, I have since disagreed with all of the idiots who run around my brain cavity, bumping into cerebellums and other gray brain tissue. Sometimes it's best to let the train derail and crawl, only slightly singed, from the burning wreck--it's better than running into the brick wall of your stubborn consciousness.

-the is a mysfit original photo, NB

I feel like I need to spring clean my brain--wipe away the cobwebs and sweep the brain stem, paying special attention to the Feng Shui placement of my thoughts. I guess that's because, though it snowed and my daffodils have died, the tulips are still struggling for breath and the lilacs have filled my dreary world with the color of scent. I breathe in the sweetness of early spring blooms, remembering absent friends.

"To absent friends, lost loves, old gods and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due."- from Sandman IV:Season of Mists, DC Comics/Vertigo
So I dedicate a yellow lilac garden to all of you who have felt the death-like trance of falling snow and stinging cold and wish that with my rebirth comes the hope of yours.

See I get all kinds of weird when I cut over a foot of hair off my head.


-picture of yellow flower (which probably isn't a lilac, but still is very pretty) by jennsee

"The toothfairy teaches children that they can sell their body parts for money." -David Richerby

two surreal compliments i dedicate to fishfans everywhere

Softly seething, surreal breathing..Ignite the cannon with sphagnum lanthum..Laud the armies of diphthongs with your superannuating Diphtheria..And I will ever be your combustive tablature of igneous geometries.

Your dandruff falls like the fixtures within a scenic railway passing through a thousand bearded rainbows...

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

fish feels vaguely apocalyptic

(i am as scattered leaves & so is my post...)

apocalyptic sky o'er Joyce Kilmer Avenue, New Brunswick, late summer 2001

i meant to post this in a more timely fashion, but you know about good intentions. on the one hand, the Pope was born and was buried on days of solar eclipse. (cue angelic choir which is also creepy music.) on the other hand, here are some of the adventures of Popeman & Altarboy.

thank you, Google.

there's an official White House duck, being guarded as a National Security Risk as she incubates her eggs.

um...oh yes, apocalyptic. dunno why. had images of mushroom clouds in my head earlier, dancing about like sugarplums. perhaps it's because i've been reading a week's worth of NY Times headlines. perhaps it's the UK trailer for Hitchhiker's Guide (T minus 2 weeks, 2 days, & counting. coupla hours, too, probably).

briefly while on the subject of movies (read this bit really fast like the small print in a radio ad) am very curious about the Fountain (i'm a sucker for time travel) & utterly intrigued by Night Watch (ditto for epic Russian horror--& i'm not really a fan of horror--horror horror horror. oh the horror, the horror.)

wow i just burned my whole freaking tongue with hot ginger tea. & my teeth too, i think. ouch.

so speaking of disasters, here's a strange thing to do to a website--visit it with destruction. (i haven't tried this yet, mostly because i can't think of a website i'd like to torment--at least not one i can get away with--but apparently it doesn't do any actual damage--but still. bring on the dinosaur rampage.)

feeling apocalyptic--which is a hard word to spell over & over--always gives my persona a touch of the anarchist, & lord knows there's nothing we love more than cute little anarchists.
okay, maybe some things. but they're way up there.

which brings me to Green Day, whose latest video, Holiday, has a stunning rip-off of Happy Anarchy's album design:


Happy Anarchy album cover

& speaking of videos, that master of the macabre, Nick Cave, has been at it again, with vids for a performance of Get Ready for Love, Breathless, & the classics Stagger Lee & Where the Wild Roses Grow.

also Tori Amos, another veteran of the wicked vid, has a new one for Sleeps with Butterflies, & some performances via Launch of that & Parasol. i realize these yahoo!Launch links don't exactly open directly but i'm sure it can be figured out by you intelligent lot. quick! before the bombs drop!


graffiti, Williamsburg, Brooklyn, late summer 2004

i apologize for all the pregnant women eating Hardee's that you have to watch in order to see some of these. it ruined 5 minutes of my life too. it also made me hungry, which scared me a little, because i wouldn't eat Hardee's in a nuclear waste land if my life depended on it. i'd end severely ill on top of being mutated. i know, i've eaten Hardee's once. it was 4 am in North Carolina & i didn't know any better.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

fish gasps a sympathetic last breath

just to conclude the In Memoriam theme, a quick recap of those this world's without as of the past couple weeks. all photos courtesy Google. (i know that's lazy, but i smoke the most when i write, & i'm trying not to smoke, so posting may be a bit spasmodic for awhile.)


Saul Bellow, author, 1915-2005


Robert Creeley, poet, 1926-2005



I Know a Man
As I sd to my
friend, because I am
always talking, John, I
sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what
can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,
drive, he sd, for
christ's sake, look
out where yr going.
(Collected Poems 132)




Pope John Paul II, 1920 - 2005


who will fill popey's shoes?


& yes, Hunter S. Thompson's ashes will be shot out of a cannon, which will be clenched in the gonzo fist. this is happening sometime in August.


I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.

But who shall so forecast the years

And find in loss a gain to match?
Or reach a hand thro’ time to catch
The far-off interest of tears?

Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown’d,
Let darkness keep her raven gloss:
Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss,
To dance with death, to beat the ground,

Than that the victor Hours should scorn
The long result of love, and boast,
‘Behold the man that loved and lost,
But all he was is overworn.’

Alfred Lord Tennyson, "In Memoriam A.H.H."

two copies of the fish?

it's a two-shot weekend.  come and support a good cause or two.  we're so charitable.

 

happy anarchy

sat 4/16 @ 12pm

MS Walk

Historic Richmondtown

SI NY

 

sat 4/16 @ 11pm

Binghamton University

sigma alpha mu house

Earth Day party

6 Florence Street

Binghamton, NY

 

get thee to our website!  www.happyanarchy.com is the place to cyber-be (does anyone say cyber- anything anymore?  truly there are too many buzzwords to keep up with nowadays.  speaking of buzzwords, i've a correction to make on last week's email regarding the new psp.  it's not whenever gaming, it's opportunity gaming.  thanks to v for putting me in my place).  show updates, available merchandise, sexxxy pictures of darren in his spidey underroos.  it's so hot the feds are after us. seriously tho....www.happyanarchy.com.  we won't be undersold.  or was that crazy eddie?  my head's more jumbled than a wordsearch recently.

 

we're on our way to dc this june.  we've been just about everywhere this side of the mississippi but this will be our first trip to the district.  there will be so much rock at this show that it will cross the great red/blue divide and bring the nation together for a golden age of peace and economic relief to be felt as far away as china.  or not.  that was wyld stallynz, and they're not even a real band. 

 

frank and laura have a new baby girl and her name is gwendolyn.  join us in welcoming the newest wahoo and wishing the new family the best kind of wishes ever wished.

 

get down and get over to the fish.  you'll learn little bits of information and be dazzled by the sights and insights of your host fish.  it's the most happenest place on the web and they won't even try to sell you anything. 

 

be excellent to eachother.

 



 

 

-t-

Monday, April 11, 2005

what is the plural of "magnum"?


one of the many mimosas of yesterday

no time left to fish

unfortunately, having two servers go down at work has left me little time for fishing today - you see, i do tech support and usually, i only have time to fish in the morning, so this is it. i have about 15 minutes to follow my fish today - it will have to be enough.

it's amazing how many people think that their problems should be the first on everybody's list of things to do. gladly, i don't know the positions of any of the people who call me at the helpdesk, so that i can treat them all equally.

unfortunately i didn't catch anything today so here is a picture of a frog:


Sunday, April 10, 2005

in memoriam fish fish fish


me & my father, circa 1983

this Saturday, April 9th, marked the 16th anniversary of my father's death.

to commemorate his wonderful nature i have been celebrating life.
went wandering through woods, forded a stream, photographed a waterfall. hey, guys, Frodo's run off again.
trying to quit smoking (it helped to do my father in--he was 40 when he died with the veins & arteries of an 80 year old man. so foolish when so much else about him was so enlightened.)
Ghejj@#!!*@! (this is me trying to quit smoking)
a D.L.F. ("dear little friend" for those non-nerds about) came & made dinner. it involved sea-bass, some sort of mexican-thai tuna sushi, marscapone & kiwi, & fresh tortilla pizzas with vine tomatoes & smoked mozzarrellllla (which is a word i find it hard to stop spelling.)
watched much anime on a digital projector on the living room wall--about as wide as i am tall.
after all, my father was a creature of imagination (& showed me my first anime: Nausicaa, story detailed elsewhere in the fish--February, i think.)
rearranged my space & growing things too. listened to the Wall. tonight we're building a bonfire on the beach for a friend who's just had his first child. welcome Gwendolyn to the spring of your world. our kindling will be the remnants of the forest glade that i built for the gods party.

i've been drinking champagne for about 24 hours, & i see no reason to stop now.
love you daddy.

salut.


post-script (aka update): the Nausicaa story is here.
gotta go clean house again.

Friday, April 08, 2005


a better Dream image, since the other one is MIA. a Dave McKean cover, i believe.

weirdest freakiest fish ever today.

this is worse than when someone pointed out all the obscenities hiding in Disney cartoons.
i'll never see the Little Mermaid in the same light again.

not delirium, i'm a fishmonger.

even tho i answered "fish" whenever possible (i.e. once)

Dream of the Endless
You are Dream! Many people see you as living in
your own little world. Though you would never
try to harm someone needlessly, you are not
always aware of the consequences of your
actions.
Which Sandman Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
(found this via Harmless Crazies. thought it apropos. i love that word, apropos.)

"we are the music makers, & we are the dreamers of dreams".
not sure who this quote belongs to (Gene Wilder? Roald Dahl?) so not attributing it.
hah! so there.

You fishing?

Weekend Fish

-this is a mysfit original, taken at The Monterey Bay Aquarium , Summer '04

This is also today's catch of the day. I just had to share that the Hammerhead Shark maybe one of my favorite catches ever. I don't know what it is about the is super-cool fish, but when I saw this pair swimming around in the aquarium, I fell for them, just like that.

Oh, and if you're ever in California near San Jose, GO TO THE MONTEREY AQUARIUM! You'll thank yourself.

That is all.

the suprasonic sounds of fish

indeed, tis i in the photograph, making a mess in dirty jeans. i love how people can surprise me. was quite bemused by the outpouring of yayness, as it were. many thanks for the moments y'all took to say something nice to me. more people should say more nice things more often, thinks i.


star lily, kitchen, Staten Island.

if i could i'd give each of you a flower.

what's funny about the delirium comments is that in my head it's always been mysfit who's just like delirium, tho not so much at the moment with the black hair. more on that later, i think, after i successfully convince her to let me post pictures of her varying incarnations up here.

ask her to tell you the story of the tulip fairies, or the beautification cards, or the imaginary tarot deck.

anyway, in an effort to share the joy, music is about to ensue:
sort of. i'd make a jukebox if i knew how.
but i don't.

1. "iron & wire" - the Postal Service
2. "thoughts of mary jane" - Nick Drake
3. "rebellion (lies)" - the Arcade Fire
4. "i think i need a new heart" - the Magnetic Fields
5. "birdhouse in your soul" - They Might Be Giants
6. "find the cost of freedom" - Crosby, Stills, & Nash
7. "where is the line" - Bjork
8. "kozmic blues" - Janis Joplin
9. "pablo picasso" - David Bowie
10. "miss america" - David Byrne
11. "poor little rich boy" - Regina Spektor
12. "st. ides heaven" - Elliott Smith
13. "opium tea" - Nick Cave
14. "janine" - Soul Coughing
15. "mr. cardiac" - Firewater
16. "against all odds" - the Postal Service
(& yes, this is a Phil Collins cover.)
17. "road to joy" - Bright Eyes
18. "teardrop" - Massive Attack
19. "here's where the story ends" - the Sundays
20. "such great heights" - the Postal Service
(the original of which "iron & wire" is an acoustic version)
21. "sea ghost" - the Unicorns
22. "kick in the eye [alternate vers.]" - Bauhaus
23. "there she goes, my beautiful world" - Nick Cave & Bad Seeds
24. "27 jennifers" - Mike Doughty
25. "willow tree" - G. Love & Special Sauce
26. "fearless" - Pink Floyd
27. "motherless child" - Tom Jones / Portishead
28. "what does your soul look like, part 3" - DJ Shadow
29. "glass concrete & stone" - David Byrne
30. "old fashioned morphine" - Jolie Holland
31. "dead & lovely" - Tom Waits
32. "ghost of corporate future" - Regina Spektor
33. "sunday morning" - Ani DiFranco
34. "sweet virginia" - Gomez
35. "guantanamera" - Wyclef Jean
36. "i fall to pieces" - Patsy Cline
37. "pop song '89 [acoustic]" - REM (from In Time special edition)
38. "teach your children" - Crosby, Stills, & Nash

there. that's about a double-cd's worth of listening joy.
the "teach your children link" vies with Tom Jones' website for silliest link of the day.

this has been the voice of the fish, your connection to the Great Music Machine in the Sky.

********update: forgottenmachine over at Ten Miles Beyond the City has done very comical things with his playlist.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

the fish is a first amendment area as well


-this is a mysfit original taken in the RedWood Forest in California, Summer '04
click on picture for easier reading

Wednesday, April 06, 2005


perhaps this image of me playing with flowers will cheer me.

from the Surrealist Compliment Generator:
"Your eyelids reflect and refract the turgid limnations of an eel trapped in the flickering paralysis of Chaplin's cinematography."

link stolen shamelessly from The Postmodernist's Guide to Idol Worship, which should be given a special award for its quantum.