So, I've been saying that I'm gonna write something on music for quite some time. This will have to do. It's not as grand as I had hoped and planned for it to be, but oh well. I've had a weird relationship with music lately, for a bit more than a year, actually. Mainstream music has completely failed to impress me for quite some time, and my current library has grown progressively more stale. Anyway, for the last little while, I've progressively found a song that I like and just listened the hell out of it, to the near exclusion of all else. It's really not the best way to go about listening to music. I literally devour every bit of meaning from the songs, and then move on to the next. Luckily, sometimes these songs overlap, and I don't quite deflate the song completely.

A large part of this is my method of listening, I guess. It's usually at my laptop, and I move around pretty regularly - largely due to Sora. It's easier to just listen to a song at a time, and I rarely am in one place to listen to a full album at a time, so when I find a song I like, I go with it. I still remember the first song that I really did this with: Spiders by Lovedrug. My brother had given me the album just before Dimsey and I broke up, and "Spiders" was rarely not playing in my car or at my desk. This was followed by a few of Newton Faulkner's songs.

It's gotten a bit better the last few months, actually since I got the new car, and have been on the road for so long lately. It's been more of a traditional expansion of music lately, which will probably be better in the long run.

It's also been pretty interesting how the meanings of some songs have changed for me over that time. "Spiders" (and a few others - "Blackout" and "Rocknroll") in particular have changed, in a good way. Just songs that mean something to me, songs that have become timeless, in a way. I wish I could remember all the way back and track these songs a bit, but I doubt I can - so I'll just give a few favorites.

- Band of Horses ~ Is There a Ghost?
- Band of Horses ~ No One's Gonna Love You
- The Jayhawks ~ Settled Down Like Rain
- Andrew Bird ~ The Trees Were Mistaken
- The Helio Sequence ~ Can't Say No
- Speechwriters LLC ~ Or Something
- Speechwriters ~ Balk
- Billy Bragg and Wilco ~ Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key
- Marching Band ~ Aggravate
- Frightened Rabbit ~ The Twist
- Frightened Rabbit ~ Poke
- Frightened Rabbit ~ Head Rolls Off
- Paper Rival ~ Weak Sister
- Josh Pyke ~ Sew My Name

There were a bunch more, especially by Speechwriters and Frightened Rabbit, and a few that I can't really remember, since it's late. I've probably listened to "Sew My Name" about 6 times today. I hope I manage to not listen to it tomorrow, so as not to suck all enjoyment out of it, but we'll see. I don't really seem to be able to break out of this cycle. Although I may have been exaggerating. I don't come to hate these songs, it's more that I move past it completely and on to the next song that meets whatever qualities I demand in a song these days.

Anyway, this has become incredibly rambling and not really what I was hoping to write. Hopefully you'll have a few more songs to listen to though.

By official, I mean I made a username and a profile for NaNoWriMo. I think I'm gonna go with plot A, since I think it'll come to me a little more naturally (despite it being set against a cross-country roadtrip, something I have never done). It's been kind of nice to know that I'm (at least going to try to be) committed to writing a story of some length. It's provided me with some worthwhile thoughts as I lay awake waiting to fall asleep. Usually, those thoughts are oriented more towards contemplating how shitty my life is. Now, they're geared towards how shitty fake peoples' lives can be, and I think I've got at least a few good things to build from. I'm excited. I may try to post updates here, or perhaps to latrolite, but if you'd prefer to follow along at the source, here's my profile/eventual potential novel: Hi-oh!

You can help with a title though. Right now, I've got Ashes, Ashes, or Dust in the Wind. Not entirely happy with either, and if you can think of a better one, please feel free to suggest! I think I may be leaning towards the latter, for a few reasons, not least of which being that Blue is, was, and always will be my boy.



I'm a bit jealous, however, that I didn't think of this. One of my "Writing Buddies," is writing the following, titled Attention Whore:

Following the success of “I’m a Celebrity, Goddamnit, Pay Attention to Me” this year’s hottest reality TV show is “Attention Whore.” Contestants compete for airtime, cash and prizes, and a chance for the grand prize—their own reality television channel for a year.

The show is a runaway sensation among the 13-34 demographic, and a tour de force of synergistic marketing. Its focus-grouped episodes and catchphrases have permeated everything in popular culture, including competing programs, the economic meltdown, and even the upcoming presidential election.

It’s a point of pride at Shameless Productions when the show becomes a hated symbol of American decadence for Middle East terrorist groups, but when contestants start dying, troubleshooter Velma Martins must work with FBI agent Nigel Owens to find out who’s doing the killing—or how to make it pay.

Sorry it's been so long, folks (for those of you still checking in). I have all the time in the world these days, but with having all that free time comes a lot of doing absolutely nothing. Which, while infinitely enjoyable* for me, does not make for compelling reading. There have been a few times where I've had a things to write about, but I haven't been able to bring myself to sit down and type it out. Again, with all the time in the world, why actually commit a small portion of that time to actually doing something?

Well, I'm gonna try to change that. I am gonna do my best to write a novel in November, as part of NaNoWriMo. I think I've said I was going to do that in the past, but for each year I've thought about doing it - it's been difficult. November is perhaps the worse month for a college student to attempt and do anything other than study for exams and watch football. However, it may be the perfect time for an unemployed writer with no local friends to write a novel. We'll soon find out, I suppose. One of the hardest things for me to do is to set a schedule for (anything) writing, and actually stick to it, so this will be an interesting challenge for me. So if anyone feels like calling/e-mailing/texting/smoke signaling me and telling me to actually get off my ass (note, I'll actually be staying on my ass) and writing, that would be great.

I have had an idea for a story kicking around for a while, and I thought of another that I think would be fun the other day, but we'll see. Also, feel free to suggest something you think would be a good idea - either for a story, or just a plot point.

The two idea I've had are pretty far from each other, and each would be fun and challenging to write for me. I haven't done much fiction writing in a long time, and nothing more than about 6,000 words - so 50,000+ in a month is gonna be a rough road, especially since I plan to write it in third person, which I've never really tried. My ideas so far:

1) Two brothers are reunited after the death of their father. One is recently unemployed (go with it), recently coming off a long relationship, the other is a pseudo-musician/addict. Their father's will asks them to take his car cross country, spreading his ashes at important places from his life. Things happen, and the trip isn't exactly what it seems. Things happen.

2) An 11-year old boy and his three-legged dog (very important to have a sidekick) set out to clean up the streets of his quiet rural town after a recent outbreak of minor crimes that no one seems very interested in solving. I don't have much on this one, and it's a very rough idea. Bonus: bicycle with a sidecar.

If there's one you prefer, let me know. Feel free to suggest anything different - creatively, I seem to do better when ideas are being knocked around. But either way, I'm gonna try my best to do this. History has shown that I fall far short of nearly all my writing goals - but I went almost a month posting once a day on this thing, and probably got to around 20,000 words. So more than doubling that shouldn't too hard at all, right? Anyway, I'll post something soon with my NaNoWriMo info and give progressive updates.

*An untruth.

Again, sorry for the balloon boy shit, but:



Wolf Blitzer is a paragon of journalism. The kid clearly says, when asked why he didn't come when called, *looking back and forth at his parents* "You guys said...that...we did this for a show." Then someone farts. Then Wolf Blitzer, who definitely lives up to his predator's name, runs away from the quote and gives these Attention Whore parents exactly what they want.

Fuckers.

Sorry for the tiny pic, but it's worth the click.

Sorry it's been so long. Unfortunately, I lead a boring life. Fortunately, there's a family in Colorado that built their own giant balloon. You may have heard of today's top Twitter trending topic: Falcon Heene, perhaps better known as Balloon Boy. Or in the most simple one-word win in the history of win:

So, since I'm bored, I'm gonna break down some TV shows. I don't watch much TV, or at least I didn't before I came home, but it's on pretty constantly at night here, and I watch whatever shit my parents watch, so here we go. New series, new seasons. Blah blah. I'm bored, and maybe you care. Let's dive right in, new series first. *edit at the end

Community - I'm still not sold on Community. Second episode was better than the pilot, which is good, because the pilot was fairly abysmal. It seems like it's still finding its feet and trying feverishly to develop characters that the show itself insists are every conceivable kind of loser. I think that once the show gets done trying its best to impart that it is actually set in a community college, and just focus on the inherent silliness in every college, community or otherwise, it'll turn around pretty quick. There's a lot of potential in the show that has yet to show itself. The casting of Ken Jeong (of Knocked Up and every other recent movie calling for a small penised Asian man) as the Spanish professor is actually a fairly inspired choice. Hopefully he'll make future appearances.

Modern Family - I was actually really impressed with the premiere of Modern Family. The show did a good job of smoothly introducing each set of characters, the writing was decently clever and the show was legitimately funny. I'm definitely not ready to call it the next Arrested Development, but Modern Family is clearly modeled after AD's winning formula - hopefully ABC will give it a little more support than FOX did. It seems like a facsimile, but I think Modern Family will be able to stand up on its own merit before too long. The show has all of AD's chaos, without the illusion (heh) of control that Michael tried to force on that family. I found it genuinely funny, heartfelt and likable. Plus, Sofia Vergara is really hot.

Bored to Death - Another show that is struggling to find its feet, but unlike Community, I think this actually has potential. And is actually trying. Obviously, HBO has a little bit more play than NBC does, but so far I'm loving this show. It focuses on a mystery author (played by Jason Schwartzman) who, struggling to write his second novel and the recent departure of his girlfriend, decides to offer his services as a private detective via Craigslist. Unfortunately, the show doesn't focus enough on his best friend and comic artist, Zack Galifianakis, and his pot-loving magazine/newspaper editor boss, played by Ted Danson. Unfortunately, these two don't get much focus, but I feel like this will change as they get drawn into his investigations. Schwartzman plays the sad sap a little too well sometimes, and really needs to find something more interesting than self-loathing to make the show worthwhile, but for now, I think it's got a lot of promise.

( Flash Forward, Glee and good shows behind the cut )

First, I want to apologize (or at least provide excuses) for not updating much recently. I've been doing a lot of freelance writing (and mostly research) this week, and it has sucked away most of my will to write anything. However, if there is anything you'd like to know about telecommunications in Ghana, Nigeria, Benin, Cameroon, or Senegal, feel free to ask. I'll tell you all you want to know and then kill you for asking. Spent around 30 hours researching the topic and earned for 10 hours of writing. Nifty. Anyhow, off to more important things - college football.

First off, I have to say how incredibly happy I am that Miami lost - hard. A few weeks ago, I gave you a taste of the typical UM fan. Well, before I headed down to Old Key Lime House (which was awesome), I saw this from the same guy: Go on Gaytors, let's hear your excuses.. Tim tebow is sick, he wasn't 100%... Blah blah blah, you're all tebow butt buddy fans, you're schedules a joke... "oh w have to play unranked teams because the SEC is soooo competitive..."... Fags if you wanna be the best you have to beat the best... Grab a tissue or tebows issue! Booya grandma.

I only rewrite this because I'm still, after nearly a day, trying to digest its entire message. I think, hidden deep between the lines, there is something incredibly profound in this nearly unintelligible statement. First, the need for excuses before we actually play is bold. Calling out the SEC, especially by way of the ACC, is another aggressive move. Now, you know when someone means business when they drop a hard 'fag' on you. This is one of the key indicators that you are dealing with a master of discourse. With the addition of said master blithely quoting Never Back Down, a movie about underground high school mixed martial arts*, you know that you have already been bested and no further discussion is needed. Although given the fact that we did beat the best, last year, and have 80% of that same team, one may be inclined to argue that we may have already achieved that level. But, one might also be a fag. Think about it.

The rest I am still trying to really process. I don't even know what Tebow's issue might be, let alone how or where to grab it. And again, to address one's grandma is such a way. Well, it's been said, we're dealing with a master.

Luckily, since Miami lost a game (and is probably headed for a second one next week), we won't hear a peep from a Miami fan for the rest of the season. Because losing is for fags. Or something.

Now, on to my butt buddy, Tebow.



I don't even think I've ever heard a bar so quiet as it was last night after Tebow got hit. Went down to the Old Key Lime House, this massive bar on the water about 20 minutes south. It's owned by a Gator alum and was absolutely packed with Gator fans yesterday. It was awesome.

I was really hoping that Meyer was gonna pull Tebow for the second half, since the game was absolutely in hand, but was pretty sure that wasn't gonna happen, especially with Tebow so close to tying and breaking Walker's rushing TD record. Seeing him lying on the ground, completely unmoving was unnerving to say the least. After three years of seeing him dropping his shoulder and leveling people like the Baby Rhino he is, seeing him get dropped like that so quickly was surreal. And scary. And seeing him on the sidelines surrounded by staff with a totally blank look in his eyes, rather than the focused intent that is usually there during games, was weird to see. I'm not sure why the trainers kept him on the sideline for so long, rather than taking him directly to the hospital. Taking a knee off the back of the head, especially with how long he was on the ground for, shouldn't be messed around with - no matter how many Tim Tebow/Superman/Chuck Norris jokes are flying around.

That's it for now - but I really hope Tebow doesn't play the LSU game. Just for his brain's sake.

*This is a woefully underexplored section of our society. And to be fair, the movie was actually not terrible. I watched it at 4am some day last week when I couldn't sleep. The vagaries of underground MMA rings dominated by sociopathic high school students are astounding and worthy of further examination.

Hey all, put up a new short story over at latrolite for any interested parties. It's about 1,400 words, so it's nothing too epic, but it's the first even remotely creative writing I've done in a long, long time. I had a line or two of this kicking around in my head for a little while, but for some reason tonight just seemed like the night to write it. Enjoy. Or whatever it is you kids do these days.

Well, I'm not entirely sure where to start this off - both a lot of things and not many things happened this weekend. Saw a whole lot of people that I hadn't seen in a while. Apparently many people shared my desire to hate on Tennessee in person. Didn't get to see everyone I wanted, or hang out with everyone for as long as I would've liked, but it was nice. I did, however - and still do - feel like an asshole at one point for use of ye olde journal. But what's done is done, as they say.

On to the workings of the weekend. I wound up getting a ticket to the game at like 10:30 Friday night for $50 - a really great price for the ticket, since most were going for near or more than $100. Now, I don't want to say that I regret going to the game, but I can think of many things that I'd rather spend $50 on rather than getting heat stroke. Supposedly it was only mid-to-high 80s during the day, but this was probably the hottest I've ever felt it in the Swamp. And it really sucked the life out of the student section (in the sun the entire time), which is the life of that stadium. It really only got "Swamp loud," if you will (and I think you might), one time - right before Crompton threw that interception near the end of the game. It was tough to operate in temperatures that Satan usually reserves for rapists and child molesters in the deepest pits of Hell. And if we students were flat because of the heat, it boggles my mind how guys were actually playing football in it. I was having trouble just standing. And I'm pretty sure I've got 4 kinds of skin cancer. Guess I'll just have to walk that off.

As usual, I had a delightful time staying at Oded's (along with Scafidi, Stefanie and Dexter - who still hates me). After the game, I really wanted nothing more than to just sit on a couch and watch football. Oded had a few old alumni guests over, which while nice, got in the way of watching football a little bit. By that, I mean it was difficult to watch football with 4 people yelling at each other. And unfortunately, I was on the wrong side of the room, but oh well.

In general, I really enjoyed going back to Gainesville. It's a little tough going back and telling people how much being unemployed is no fun, but hopefully that will turn around soon. Nothing is currently on the horizon, but I remain hopeful. So hopeful, in fact, that I've found myself very hesitant to unpack all of my stuff. My dad (I predict that if I'm still here in two months, I'll begin referring to him as one of my "roommates" a la Grandma's Boy) has been bugging me to clear all my stuff out of the front room (which is completely full of other forms of boxed shit, so I'm not entirely sure of the problem), but I can't get over the notion that once I actually take all of my things out of boxes and put them away somewhere here that I'm giving in to living at home. It's been a month and a half, so not overly long, but I really want this to remain a pit stop. Just going back, not necessarily going home. Currently, boxes are the only tether I have to that notion. And I'd really prefer not to cut it.

So what I'm saying is, if you hear of a job in communications, let me know. Kthxbye.

Back to Japan for something, quick and dirty.

Japanese scientists recently created 3-D images that you can feel. Knowing them however, it'll be used solely for interactive tentacle porn. Or for the experience of groping a woman on the train, from the convenience of your own home!

Quick and dirty, like I said.

Gainesville-bound!

Well, it's no secret that the world will end in one of two ways: zombie apocalypse or robot apocalypse. Or perhaps both, human slaves ruled robo-zombie overlords. Or, if Japan has their way, creepy robo-bear clown overlords. Designed to carry elderly patients from their beds to wheelchairs, then steal their medication for fuel. And for fun.

Now normally, I'd wonder why the Japanese, with all their robotics know-how, choose to make the most creepy simulacrum possibly, to serve a demographic (the old and infirm) that would most likely be terrified that said robo-beast would much rather crush them, rather than carry them safely to a chair. From what I understand, the US is a little far behind Japan in general robotic technology, but light years ahead in the "not being creepy as fuck" department.

Well, that's normally what I'd think until: the BloodBot. The BloodBot. I mean, I understand that the name describes what the thing does, but they couldn't find a name that didn't inspire absolute terror? Not that this thing needs any help inspiring terror:

A slight warning for this post: I've been writing business bullshit all week for freelance work, so I got a wee bit carried away with creativity here. I'm sorry. It's not even good.

A few minor tales of woe for you to chew upon. First, as previously whined about, I clean pools three days a week for my father's business. The truck, also previously whined about in my manual transmission chronicles, is about ten years old in name, but it's a medieval Europe kind of 10. It's already contracted and been crippled by at least two virulent diseases that killed its parents. Leprosy is slowly rotting all of its extremities, waiting for just the wrong motion to tear that limb from the aged child's sickly body. It's already got a brood of diseased children that tend it, awaiting it's impending death at the seasoned age of 12.

The interior of this truck is similar to any other vehicle subjected to the rigors of a construction company lifestyle: beat to utter shit. Specifically, in this case, the radio. It works fine, but over the years, probably to excessive chemical fumes corroding the copper contacts and the driver's neural pathways, the buttons have ceased to work on the console. Luckily, the radio was tuned to ESPN Radio, an AM station. This pleased me, since it is a magical time in sports, full of football. Even NFL talk, which I couldn't give half a rat's ass about for the most part. However, I got greedy. It's a tale as old as time. Check any Disney cartoon, and you'll see this most basic of cautionary tales. Be content with what you have.

For some reason, ESPN was talking about hockey for like 12 seconds and I showed my displeasure by karate poking the AM/FM button, off to search for the Love Doctors on Real Radio (the Love Doctors, incidentally, provide some of the best talk radio around. Love that show). Too late, did I realize my mistake. One push was apparently all said button could sustain, throwing off some delicate internal balance, like that leprous old child losing a finger in it's nose, booger left unreached (how's that for an image? Apropos.). Well, I reached Real Radio, only to find that the Love Docs were on vacation, and I was to be subjected to their two stand-in clowns. All of this is secondary to the true problem here.

Until 10 AM every weekday, Real Radio airs the Bob and Tom show. If you are not familiar with the show, it's three old dudes and an old lady all yelling at each other in an attempt to say the same joke before the others can get it out, and then all laughing at each other for an uncomfortably long time. This goes on for 4 hours. It's aural torture. I've just consigned myself to at least an hour of shitty radio three days a week, every week until I find a job. I may just kill myself and save them the trouble.

Additionally, I'm dumb and was backing out of the driveway today and backed into my dad's car. I now have a nice hole in one of the back, side panels of my new car. Not too bad for a month's work. Just imagine what I can do in two.

This is it, folks. It's time to kill myself. It's been real.

From the Onion AV Club's breakdown of the whole VMA thing. Theories as to why it happened:

Theory: It was the Devil.
Propagated by: Heidi Montag
Always one to put things in a perspective limited to, in order, God, dancing, how much she enjoys pizza and/or sushi, and her husband, Heidi Montag knows evil when she encounters it: “I saw the devil in action when kanye west stole your mic!” she Tweeted to Taylor Swift last night, followed by a recap in which she declared, “What a satanic VMAs. Jack Black is disgusting for even joking about praying to the devil!! NOT funny! I almost threw up.” Scoff at Heidi if you must, but perhaps you won’t be laughing when Judgment Day comes and Jesus returns to rescue the righteous and condemn the sinful, and Kanye rushes His cloud to argue with Him about the whole “pride” thing. (“I WROTE A SONG ABOUT YOU!!!!!!!”)


I still haven't seen the video of said incident, and don't really care to. Not because of what goes on, but mostly because I don't want to watch any part of the VMAs. That's a level I just can't stoop to. However, I will leave this for you, compliments of my brother:

Gonna chronicle this before Scafidi steals it forever by putting it on the radio this weekend:

Random thought of the day: EA should put bin Laden on the cover of Madden 2011 - 3:1, the fucker is dead by Week 4.

Thanks, I'll be here all week. Try the veal.

Google "Madden Curse" if you don't get it. Then chuckle your way through the day.

As always on this date, thoughts and prayers are with everyone who lost someone. Hearing the volunteers read the names of everyone who lost their lives that day was a pretty chilling thing, even on the radio.

That's all for now.

A few quick notes, since I'll be a bit busy for the next few days. Been meaning to make a movie post before today, so as to talk about 9, which comes out today. It looks weird, but definitely my kind of weird. Maybe I'm just excited because they used Coheed and Cambria's "Welcome Home" in the trailer. I'm easy to please.

Had a few good days in Pensacola for a bachelor and bachelorette party. Then on Monday, the FSU/Miami game. Now, in a perfect world this game would end in a draw after a meteor hits the stadium, destroying both teams and their fans. In a slightly less perfect world, however, I'll take FSU to win every time. I was talking about it this weekend, since a fair amount of the people I was hanging with in Pensacola are Seminole fans. For most weeks through the season, FSU fans are pretty much identical to UF people. On the whole, FSU and UF students are very similar. During the last week of October, yeah, then it's hate week and no amount of goodwill could keeping me from wanting to eradicate the Seminole tribe. I can carry that hate.

However, I'm really pulling for global warming in a big way because maybe - just maybe - it'll put UM under 4 feet of water. Or maybe it'll just drop down into hell. When Miami won, this was the first Facebook status update I saw from a UM fan, a kid I went to high school with:

"UUUUUUUUUU motha fuckas!!!! Fsu lost to the best unranked team in the country!!!!! Chop dis dick you Seminoles fags!!!!!!!!!!!! The UUUUUUUUU .... FU UF!!!!"*

I honestly could not have written a more stereotypical UM victory proclamation if I had just snorted 4 lines of coke, raped my cousin's girlfriend and then punched a cop. I would most likely be wearing an Ed Hardy T-shirt and some sort of ascot in this scenario.

More later.

*I wish I could say I had actually written this my self, but this particular piece of poetry is not my own.

So I sat through about 15 minutes of America's Got Talent (which is most assuredly does not), and I think I found my upper limit. If I hadn't been eating some kind of dinner, it definitely wouldn't have lasted that long. The last two frames of the comic below perfectly sum up everything I feel about this show and, basically, every show like it. But especially this one. Maybe it's the Hoff.




Thank you Penny Arcade, and especially the wicked pen of Tycho, for providing those words.

Also a follow-up! Don't get those around here too often. Remember that old post about the stuff of nightmares. Well, turns out it wasn't a mouse that had found its way into a can of Diet Pepsi, but a frog. That is at least slightly more plausible. Also completely terrifying for me. And I've been working on my fear of those wretched creatures. I actually let a baby frog sit on my hand for about 4 seconds before I squealed and threw it off and ran around in circles dousing my hand in bleach. I'll let you decide where the exaggeration in that last sentence resides.

Three posts in a day. I hope you appreciate it, Michael. I hope it holds you over - I'm heading up to Gainesville for a night tomorrow, then on to Pensacola for a bachelor/b'lette party over the weekend. Much debauching lies in store! I may try to get a much delayed music (and maybe movies) post in later tonight or tomorrow before I leave, but I wouldn't hold your breath. Sorry for all the posts, F-list.

I've been meaning to post this for quite some time, as the idea was spawned from the tail end of a lunch conversation at Shands. We didn't have much time to explore the conversation (by the way, I loved lunch conversations in my office - they were awesome), and I don't think we revisited it, since it's really not the most, ah, stimulating conversation piece. My two bits were kind of a gut reaction, and I've never really put a lot of thought into it since - I've just kept it kicking around in the back of my mind.

So here it is: since a lot of the coordinators there have kids just entering high school, they were talking about summer readings lists, which segued nicely into a discussion of what, if any, modern (or at least more modern) books would eventually find their way into high school English curriculum. Now, to be quite frank, I felt like a fraud participating in this conversation. For an avid reader, my reading collcetion is embarrassingly lacking in what would by most be called "the classics." Through high school, I would read a book (of my own) through any class where I thought I could get away with it (usually Walker's history class, since it was all PowerPoint and I already knew everything he was teaching), and unsurprisingly enough, English, since again, I never had an English teacher worth a damn. Whether through laziness or obduracy towards any sort of schoolwork, I made it through high school stolidly ignoring most reading assignments. A few of the books I had previously read (1984, Fahrenheit 451, a few others), but for the most part I just relied on my instincts for characters, class discussions which were easy for me to shred through, and a very solid grasp on genre and period tropes. Those sort of things came very naturally to me, and I felt very little inclination to stop reading books I wanted to read and pick up books I had very little interest in. The one book that this is entirely untrue for was Frankenstein. I read that over the summer before my senior year, and I absolutely loved it. Probably because it's so different from every movie adaptation ever made. And because it is entirely human, something I found lacking in so many of the classics. I'll get to that.




On an entirely separate note, if anyone recalls the Book It! program, I tore that shit up. My second grade class participated. Basically your teacher set monthly reading goals for each student - we picked from Caldecott and Newbery Award winning books. If you met your goal, there was some sort of pizza reward. I think most kids had a 3-5 book goal. I distinctly remember reading 24 books one month, of which Maniac McGee, The Bridge to Terabithia and The Giver were definite favorites.

Which just goes to show that I will do absolutely anything for a pizza.

Back to the topic at hand!

Anyway, someone quickly suggested anything by Vonnegut, of which I think Slaughterhouse Five was deemed the most appropriate, at least for senior students. I added Johnny Got His Gun, since I found it infinitely more interesting than Slaughterhouse, and the plot presents itself for high school essays a bit more neatly.

The discussion continued, and I - to your absolute shock, I am sure - suggested Ender's Game. Surprisingly, no one at the table had read it, even the one guy who I think was, at least in some ways, nerdier than myself. While most people would hesitate to put the people who crank out Star Wars novels in the same company as Thoreau, I believe an argument could be made that science fiction writers have done more than to further literature than the Transcendentalists. They were a bunch of navel-gazing hippies. While your average sci-fi hack clearly does not control the sheer absolute mastery of language that say, Emerson, commanded, it's impossible to ignore the impact that science fiction has had on our culture, and the way we view the future. While the words they use may not be as...powerful, the vision of many of the "masters" of science fiction far outstrips anything created by the writers of "the classics." For instance (and I can't say that I recommend reading it, since it can be tedious as hell), Kim Stanley Robinson's Red Mars is basically a blueprint for colonization of another planet, wrapped seamlessly through a compelling narrative.

Anyway, I put up Ender's Game because while it is clearly science fiction, it is also a strong lesson in the power of the human mind, of the human soul. It's about finding strength, finding friendship, betrayal, being pushed to the psychological brink, and pushing onward. Again, it's nothing like what came before, and I'd argue that is it's strength.

Clearly, I'm biased, since I do so love me some fantasy and the occasional science fiction, but I prefer things that push my imagination, rather than lock them into familiar roles. So many characters in many of the books (that I admittedly read very little or none of) are just perfect (or inherently flawed) representations of a particular theme or character trope that I just grew very bored, very quickly. I'm not saying that those don't still exist in my preferred genre (please see: Luke Skywalker, Harry Potter, every young man who picked up a sword and was forced to leave his home), but - when written well - I find them to be vastly more entertaining or interesting. Maybe I just found all the books I would have been forced to read boring. God knows that I couldn't get through Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. But then again, that was just crappy, even given its source material.

So I've rambled for quite some time without saying much. Chalk that up to unpreparedness and the fact that since I've actually sat down to write, I'm gonna write. Even if the words don't lead anywhere. Sorry it's so long. If you made it to the end of this, you deserve a pizza.

Also, let me say that I was gazing through my bookshelves and found very few books that I would even consider making required reading. Granted, half of my books are under my bed or still in a bin, but I doubt there are many that are must read for everyone because of a particular style of writing or content, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and include one book and an author that I feel should be included somehow.

First, World War Z, and no I'm not kidding. I absolutely love how that book is written. It'd be tough to write an SAT essay about it, but it's like nothing else around. And it's great. Secondly, for all that he is a true artist of pulp, Stephen King. I'd have a hard time choosing a particular book, and he might not be appropriate (in a literary sense) for high school, but I'd love to take a college class on King's body of work. He is a master of drawing from pop culture and the current fears of the generation, for which some of his earlier works suffer (for me, and young readers), but the way that something like over 80% of his books are subtly interwoven, building his (unfortunately flawed and rushed) magnum opus, The Dark Tower, is amazing. And a lot of his books, especially The Shining would be great fodder for essays and whatnot, given that he wrote so that, psychologically, he wouldn't go crazy and kill his kid. That must feel good for his kid.

Discuss amongst yourselves. Or not. Jeez, 1300 words on this. I apologize. Go get that pizza.

Well, it is no secret to the long-time reader that I really do not enjoy working for the family business. Granted, cleaning pools is not nearly as bad as actual construction and has brought back my old farmer's tan in full effect, but, clearly, it's not my life's great ambition. Really, it's just not all its cracked up to be. Years of movies and pop culture had told me that, as a matter of odds, there will be at least one super-foxy, horny old lady that drags me into the poolhouse and would make me wear provocative swimwear. Alas, this has not been the case. And one pool even has security cameras around it. Presumably to ensure that such a scenario doesn't take place, and for no other reason.

A further unforeseen and unprecedented situation has arisen. There is one pool that I clean 3 times a week, and it usually takes about 2.5-3 hours. The pool is absolutely gorgeous, and I'd really like nothing more than to trip and fall into the pool, then lounge for half an hour. Alas, it's not to be. And it's probably for the best, because over the course of cleaning the pool, I have found and cleaned a mysterious substance from the base of the pool - usually from the steps or seats/ledges - on each visit. It's not really all that mysterious outside of a pool. I've seen - and have occasionally produced - said compound before, but blessedly never in a pool. If you haven't guessed yet - and why would you - I'll give you a hint.

It's poop.

At first I wasn't totally sure, since by the time I get there in the mornings, the pieces are usually bleached gray-brown by the sun and chemicals. But today, I found a nice little pile on the deck. Which I dutifully ignored at first, since my job is the pool, and doesn't include poop patrol when I can't just vacuum it up, but then hosed away into the yard. Now, at first I was tempted to blame it on one of their dogs - one of which is a gigantic lab puppy, but I've seen the work that those two do in the yard I trudge through. Impressive to say the least. The homeowners have a young kid, who is apparently at least moderately autistic, so I'm guessing it's his handiwork. I don't really mind it when it's in the pool, because I can just vacuum it up, never to be seen again. Until I have to clean the filters, of course, but I choose to block that out of my mind when it's that time of the week.

So, once again, the post brought to you by the letters P, O, O, and P.

That spells poop.