quote of the (other) day:

'why are you wearing that stupid man suit?'

Gay means In Love now

I am SO gay for this.

Synapses firing.

Law of Conservation of Mass Energy

I'm reading great amounts of Walt Whitman to prep for class. I have ideas of lost civilizations in my head, thoughts of archetypal stories (FLOOD!) and now i'm reading "what I assume you shall assume, / For every atom belongint to me as good belongs to you" which makes me think of Biotic (which i heard about from Grant Morrison), and i'm waiting for the flakes to start falling.

I feel my synapses firing.

Mahabalipuram

The Mythical City of Mahabalipuram - Relics off the coast of India, found after the December Tsunami, could be "part of the mythical city of Mahabalipuram, which legend says was so beautiful that the gods sent a flood that engulfed six of its seven temples

I am so gay for flood stories, and lost civilizations.

Because everyone loves a new obsession

Atlantis - In response to the findings of a possible "mythical" city off the coast of India, I am newly obsessed with lost civilizations... Going to the British museum also helped.

London Leaving

(there just aren’t enough ways to mimic London Calling)

 

Kate and I have returned from four/five fun filled day in old Londonium.  We began on Thursday morning (GMT) by dropping stuff off at the hotel before we could check in and running around for five hours.  We began with Westminster Abbey, and looking at Big Ben (I nearly went crazy hearing Clark Grizwald tell his family “Look kids! Parliament, Big Ben!”).  Poet’s corner was cool, but the problem I had with the abbey was understanding how many people were actually buried there, and how many were buried somewhere else.  It was interesting seeing a building that is slowly become more bones than brick.  It also got me into Monarchy mode.  I finally, after 25 years, finally see the interesting thing about having a royal family.

 

From there we walked.  We saw Downing Street (which is cordoned off since IRA threats against Thatcher in the 80s), got some excellent Fish and Chips and Shepherd’s Pie at the Red Lion, saw Green Park (it was green), Buckingham Palace, a WWI memorial, and Hyde Park Corner.  From there we went to Harrod’s (big expensive shopping), and got some wine, cheese, and bread for dinner. Then went to the hotel and took a little 2 hour nap.  Then woke up and got a cork screw from the nearby grocery and sat around for the night.  Lovely.

 

Day 2 began with an early morning wake up with croissant and a underground trip to The Tower of London.  Luckily Kate and I avoided the masses, and managed to have the tower mostly to ourselves for about an hour or so.  It was interesting, but most of it was rebuilt in the Victorian age, so it was tough to get into the idea of how old the place was.  (This brings up the major difference I noticed between Spain and London, besides the country vs. city thing, is that Spain is old, and the UK is old, but the blitz blew it all to hell, so it’s largely rebuilt, it seems.)  From there we took a tube trip to St. Paul’s and saw the steps where the little old bird lady sells bird food for toppins’  (‘Mary Poppins’ buffs will understand).  From there it was a short walk to the Tate Modern and Shakespeare’s Globe.  The Globe was really quite interesting, and even though it was also (quite recently) rebuilt, it was apparently rebuilt using the same means that they would have had in 1580s or so.  The tour guide was also awesome.  Then three hours in the tate with lots of modern art. A short walk to Bar + Kitchen for starters and wine, then another walk to the Saatchi Gallery to even more modern art (the Sensations artists went to Saatchi after the moved around apparently).  Then on home for loud neighbors, closed bars, and a late sleep.

 

Day 3 started off with Benjy’s English breakfast.  D-Lish-Us.  Then to Piccadilly circus, a quick walk through Soho, and several hours at the British Museum, another walk through Soho (Like New York City but English)… and I’m blanking on what else happened there.  AH ha.  We went to the Troubadour, a neat little pub where Dylan and Lennon both apparently played back in the day.  Neat but there was a private party with a band downstairs that caused a lot of disharmonious music, which, sadly, cleared the upper level out pretty well.  Then back home for a somewhat early night.

 

Day 4 started late, with another English breakfast at the Patisserie near Gloucester Road Underground Station.  From there we went to Greenwich, saw the Royal Observatory, and did the ever so tacky stand in two hemispheres at one time.  Then saw very very cute Greenwich.  Went shopping in a little market there and did some book shopping (Found The Alchemist, then finished it the next day).  Fun times.  We found our way home, went to a few places to eat for lunch and dinner (two places in particularly, but nothing super) then to bed for an early departure the next morning.

 

Day 5 We came home.  1130 GMT departure from Heathrow, then a 1230 GMT or so landing an Heathrow as we lost an engine on our accent, and needed it fixed.  We finally took off again at 1030 EST, and landed several hours late.  Welcome to the USA.

 

Twas a great trip, massive fun, but I think I’m just not city folk.  I liked London, but by day three I wanted to get out into the country and do some driving.  My shin actually hurts from walking interestingly enough.  But I’d do it again…

Hunter S. Thompson

Hunter S. Thompson has killed himself; with a shot gun, not the drugs. I am
a fan, but not one with much knowledge, so I decide to give it up to someone
else. Of all the stuff I've read I enjoyed Warren Ellis's "obituary" the
most. Enjoy (I strongly encourage friends to subscribe to Ellis's Bad
Signal as well, and if you are a Thompson fan, read his graphic novel in 10 volumes, Transmetropolitan (Graphic novels in ten volumes aren't at long at you think)).


[BAD SIGNAL]Up The Creek

bad signal
WARREN ELLIS

People keep asking if I'm going to say something about the death of Hunter S Thompson. Hell, a couple of newspapers have asked. This is because (for the sake of the Marvel readers who have joined us) I wrote a graphic novel series called
TRANSMETROPOLITAN, the creation of whose protagonist was somewhat influenced by Thompson's writing, persona and life.

I got the news from a friend at CBS at four in the morning, two minutes after it hit the ticker. I was, and am, numb. I've tried to write about it a couple of times. When John Peel died, I was wrecked. This time, I'm just numb.

I read an article a few years ago, that I haven't seen cited in the obituaries yet, wherein it's stated that Thompson's body was pretty much packing up on him. His
stomach was having problems with toxic substances like, um, food, and his diet was mostly liquid, mashed avocado and yoghurt. He'd spent time in a wheelchair in recent
years. His drug use had always been exaggerated for comedic effect, but, at 67, he'd been hammering his body in a committed way for some 50 years. And, at 67, you
don't grow back the bits you killed. There's a fair chance he was looking
at years of dependency, chronic illness, and listening to his own body die by inches. Anyone would find that frightening.

He always wore his influences on his sleeve. JP Donleavy, Faulkner, Mencken, Fitzgerald, Kerouac, Hemingway. He used and re-used the last line from A FAREWELL TO
ARMS, over and over: "I walked back to the hotel in the rain." Legend has it that he retyped a Hemingway novel to understand how the writer got his effects.

Hemingway, of course, shot himself in the head. Old and sick and unable to live up to his own ideas on manhood.

I always thought it peculiarly apt that the man who wrote that line, whose work was all about keeping the expression of human feeling underneath the surface, sat somewhere quiet and alone and put a shotgun in his mouth.

Hunter Thompson waited until his young wife left the house, and then shot himself in the head with a pistol. He must have been quite aware that either she, or his son,
there in the house with his grandson, would find his corpse. Dead bodies don't lay neatly. They splay, spastic and awful. There is often shit.

I never met Thompson. Had the opportunity a couple of times -- magazines wanting to send me out to Woody Creek, that kind of thing -- but turned them down. I've
been lucky so far, in meeting my great influences. But they don't always go well. Friends of mine have had horrific experiences with their personal heroes, and it often leaves them unable to enjoy the work afterwards. And I wanted to keep
the work. So I don't know what kind of man he was.

And the numbness, in part, comes from now finding that he was the kind of man that'd let his family find him like that. I have a personal loathing for suicide. It's stupid and selfish and ugly and cowardly and reeks of weakness. Someone said to me yesterday about Thompson, "What a ripoff." And I kind of know what he meant. It's become convenient to write Thompson off as parody in recent years, and there's a case to be made that he peaked around the age of 36, with FEAR AND LOATHING ON THE
CAMPAIGN TRAIL '72. But he could still make me laugh, even in the most recent collection, HEY RUBE.

" 'We have many cigarettes here,'
I said suavely" still makes me smile.

Writing had clearly become difficult, and a job, but every now and then you'd get a clear burst of the old anger, as in his support for Lisl Auman (google it). He was
done with the big fireworks, but the devil was still in him. Probably his great work of the last twenty years was in Being Hunter Thompson. In performance.

But how you leave the stage is at least as important as how you enter it. And he left it alone in a kitchen with a .45, dying in -- and wouldn't it be nice if it were the last time these words were typed together? --

-- dying in fear, and loathing.

Warren Ellis
down by the sea
February 2005

How many references to "Death of a Salesman" will there be?

Associated Press

To view the entire article, go to Legendary Playwright Arthur Miller Dies

Lost Thought

i actually lost a thought today. Perfect idea to add to my burgeoning (sic) fiction writing, and it's lost into the ether.... i hope i find it.

bits (fragments)

he danced fluidly in the park throwing punches like a shadow boxer

Donations Accepted

Kate and I have found our next vacation.  We will be accepting donations through our paypal account (use name mattbuckley80@comcast.net) or checks and cash can be mailed to our house.

Zero Gravity Trips

Because choice matters

"Huh?" says America's youth

Artificial Stress

I was fascinated today in a club meeting where we were voting on what to do. A kid was faced with the deciding vote, becuase he came in late, and the voting had been dead even. Suddenly, new stress. However it was based solely on being alone in "deciding." His vote, had it been given two minutes earlier would have been the same as everyone elses vote, a mere change in timing altered so many of the consecutive events. that's all it took. there was no reason for him to feel pressured into doing one thing or another, but because of the timing and the fact that other votes had been cast, suddenly his became more important. In the 2000 election, Florida would have been nothing if they had just coutnued correctly earlier on.