Y'know, I'm sure this isn;t the first of it's kind, but it's the first I've found. It's a blog written in Klingon. And if you think that's scary:





It's times like these I really do need a comments section....

OK, I'm stilla bit undecided by this, but at the very least I get to test out my nifty "Blog This" feature, so here we go.

Well, I'm here to finally tell you what you what no one else seems willing to say: you don't know shit about Iraq. In fact, you don't even know how much shit there is about Iraq that you don't know.


It's a massively long rant about ignorance and activism. I'm not sure I agree with what he's trying to say, but I see where he's coming from, and the commentary on the post helps put things in various contexts as well, especially the part about mostly-ignorant bloggers mouthing off about subjects they have little to no understanding of (not that I would know anything about that...).

In any case, sit back and take a read, and let me know what you think....

Maybe it's just me, but does anyone else find it odd that all the gossip magazines are putting the Olsen twin with the eating disorder on their front covers, but the pictures they use show this horribly thin girl completely dolled up. Talk about your mixed messages....

So the resume is almost done.

I say "almost" because I think there's room for improvement, but I spent two and a half hours on the damn thing and I think I did quite enough, thank you kindly.

It was very odd, searching for files I haven't touched in nearly two years. For some reason, I have my resume saved on my hard drive under four different file names, but the files themselves are identical. Odder still, they all have my home phone number and my webspan account, even though I know I updated it with my cell numbr and my shadowgalaxy e-mail.

Still, it was very odd looking at the old version. It's no wonder I had such a hard time getting invertivews: my resume was patently generic. Not just in the formatting, but in the content. I spent four years at Webmedia and rerally had nothing to show for it. By contrast, I've been at my current job just shy of two years and I've streamined the inventory menagement of our Morocco Plant, oversee purchasing and logistics of our Morocco plant, implimented and supervised consignment programs both domestically and internationally . . . I got mad skillz, yo.

It's also interesting to see the things I no longer need on my resume. Out goes my job at Schlesinger Associates; I don't think "editing and conducting surveys" is relevant to what I'll be looking for now. And I highly doubt anyone will be impressed by the fact I made the Dean's List for twostraight years, so the "Education" section was removed to make more space for my accomplishments at my current job. There is the small problem of having no references--I don't even think Webmedia exists anymore so I can't get in touch with anyone there, and I can't use anyone at my current job--but I've already got some ideas about how to get around that.

Needless to say, I feel far more confident now than I did two years ago. My guess is it'll be easier to write cover letters, now that I have specific successes to brag about, as opposed to speaking in generalities like I did two years ago.

It's certainly a nice feeling. I've always felt that my success and good fortune at WebMedia was due to more luck than anything else, riding the dot./com buble, being in a small company; I always felt that I got much more slack than I would have, or should have, given I was never overly effective at analyzing the data I was reporting. But now, in purchasing, I know what I'm talking about, I know what I'm looking for. My work ethic has helped me here as much as before--two jobs in two years have seen me progress from an assistant position to a position of authority--but there's a confidence I have in my ability to do my job that I didn't have before.

That said, it's still a long way from writing up a resume to landing a job. I should tweak the language of my resume, make the wording stronger. I still have to go online and get back on Monster and Hotjob. And that's the easy part--I'll also be tracking down the Philly papers, and somehow schedule times for interviews without completely impeding on my current considerable workload, not to mention without chewing up what little vacation time I have. But these are logistical problems, and I'm getting quite good at logistics. :)

It's funny. This time two years ago I was getting desperate. Going into the 4th of July holiday, I was hitting all the temp agencies in my area; the last severance paycheck from WebMedia was issued, and I was trying to figure out how to live on New York State's meager unemployment checks. I'm still getting that same buble of apprehension in my stomach, but it's good to know I'm in a much stronger position than then.

Here we go....

Most college students doubt that voting in presidential elections will make major changes in American society, according to a nationwide survey.

At first this bothered me, but now I'm not too sure. It's not exactly banner news--I was in college when Clinton campaigned for re-election, and I can't say my campus was a hotbed of political activism, even when Vice President Gore came for a visit. But in an election year as imporant as this one, it amazes me that college students are that cynical.

The goofing-off of my previous post aside, I think the Bush administration is a text-book example of politics affecting society--whether you think Bush has done a bad or a good job. Yet at the same time, when it came to cast my vote for my first eligible presidental election, I did a write-in for Howard Stern. So, obviously, wisdom comes with age.

On the other hand, the first-ever National Hip-Hop Political Convention, which concluded last weekend, has sounded themes of voter awareness and responsibility, encouraging as many people as possible in a widening hip-hop fan base to get involved. "There is tremendous clout within the hip-hop community," says Bakari Kitwana, an activist in the rap music world and author of "The Hip-Hop Generation: Young Blacks and the Crisis in African-American Culture." "People need to realize and exploit this power that exists." Shocasing hip-hop big-wigs such as Busta Rhymes and Wyclef Jean, this wasn't just a bunch of C-list rappers looking for publicity (it was some A-list rappers looking for publicity.) If they could get Eminem to show up then you'd really get things rolling....

My cousin Ken e-mailed me today. He wrote:

I read your website about wanting to see the sun set on the longest day of the year. As you said, summer soltace is the exact time when spring turns to summer, the sun's daily highest point in the sky begins to decrease, and yes the days do start to get shorter.

However, for some reason I remember that the LASTEST sunset doesn't occur on the summer solstace. As you can see from this website http://www.timeanddate.com/worldclock/astronomy.html?n=251&obj=sun&month=6&year=2004&day=1, the LATEST sunset occurs between June 25 and 30 in Trenton at 8:33pm. In NYC, the latest sunset occurs at 8:31pm on June 22-July 1.

I'm not sure why summer solstace doesn't coincide with the latest sunset, but some factors may be:
1) Longitude west of the center of the time zone (which explains why sunset is later in Trenton than NYC).
2) The apogee of the earth's orbit (when the earth is furthest away from the sun, approximately July 2) doesn't coincide with the soltace.
3) Altitude and slope of the city (not likely).
4) Latitude north of the equator (at the equator, by the way, daytime is always 12 hours long).
It's probably a combination of these and other factors that makes the year's LATEST sunset different from year's LONGEST day. I'm confident you can figure it out using web research.

So if you want to see the latest sunset, there's still time!


See, how cool is that? Thanks, Ken!

It's occured to me that it's been far too long since I dabbled in the areas of politics. I'm far too busy (and lazy) to keep up with things as I should, and it's a shame because if I'm going to be a cynical anti-establishment kinda guy, I really should have the common sense to know what I'm talking about and not just spew out some semi-pithy rhetoric.

That said, I feel like pissing off some people with some semi-pithy rhetoric; thusly I shall now throw out some utterly un-context articles that point to the Bush Administration's utter incompetence:

Revised report shows terror increased in 2003 Combining the two categories of terror attacks — those with loss of life or serious injury and major property damage and less serious attacks — Black said the overall number of terror incidents was at a 34-year low. Still, there were 175 "significant events" of terror last year, he said, the highest number since 1982. Americans were victims in 1 percent to 1.5 percent of all the attacks, and Muslim militants were responsible for most of them, he said. In an effort to improve raitings, Rumor has it the Bsuh Adminstration has contacted Nancy Regan to begin appearing in the their new "Just Say 'No' To Terror" ad campaign.

Administration Disavows Interrogation Memo Realizing the order Bush signed gave the Military the right to torture prisoners, even though thoughout the prisoner abuse crises Bush and company said the prisoners were always considered protected under the Geneva Convention, the administration played damage control. Early buzz says the performance is clearly Oscar-worthy....

U.S. Drops Bid for War Crimes Shield Facing global opposition fueled by the Iraqi prisoner abuse scandal, the United States on Wednesday dropped its attempt to renew a U.N. exemption shielding American troops from international prosecution for war crimes. But, hey, it's not our fault the rest of the world can't understand why beating and killing prisoners is perfectly excusable. Hey, they were askin' for it....

Noonday in the Shade Strangely, though, the attorney general didn't call a press conference to announce the discovery of the weapons cache, or the arrest of William Krar, its owner. He didn't even issue a press release. This was, to say the least, out of character. Jose Padilla, the accused "dirty bomber," didn't have any bomb-making material or even a plausible way to acquire such material, yet Mr. Ashcroft put him on front pages around the world. Mr. Krar was caught with an actual chemical bomb, yet Mr. Ashcroft acted as if nothing had happened.

Rasputin had a really big penis Granted, this has nothing to do with the Bush Administration. But you gotta love the photograph that accompanies the article....

I wanted to watch the sun set.It was the longest day of the year, it was a beautiful day out, no humidity; I wanted to watch the sun set.

I went up to Eagle Rock Reservation. I knew it faced East, but I thought there was another area that faced west. There wasn't. But I parked my car near a trail and walked into the woods. It was twilight--not dusk. It couldn't be dusk, not there in the woods with a thousand fireflies floating about. It was otherworldly. Through a break in the trees I saw the crescent moon, a sliver of light reflecting the sun that was already below the horizon.

It's the start of Summer but it's never been a happy day for me--always bittersweet. The days get shorter now. The summer may have just begun but with each day it gets darker a little quicker. By contrast, the winter solstice is always a good day, because that means from then on the days get longer. But now, mid-year . . . .

Last week I recieved an e-mail from the theater group I did "Don't Drink the Water" with. They had a meeting last Thursday to discuss the play they'll be performing this October. Rich, one of my castmates from "Water" that I've stayed in touch with, asked if I was going. At first I said I was, only I realized: with the play in October, rehearsals would start in August. If my evenings are filled rehearsing a play, when would I have time to comb resumes and send out cover letters? So I didn't go to the meeting, and I wrote Rich today to explain why.

It's mid-year. Summer has started and it occurs to me that when the winter solstice comes around, I may not be here. I have to get the resume ready and right after the July 4th weekend, I start looking through want-ads. The days are getting shorter now.

At twilight I stood in the woods--not really the woods, the dirt path was a road for the reservation utility vehichles--but in the last few moments of daylight, as the fireflies danced around me and for just a moment it felt as if I was . . . elsewhere.

The days are getting shorter now. It's time.

I don't know why, but for some reason my boss, Matt, called out to our engineer, Kent by saying "To be or not to be; that is the question..." whihc immediated launched that soliloquy in my mind.

We read Hamlet in my senior year og High School. Our teach, Mr Schiner (sic???) had us recite one of two soliloquy's from the play. One was the "What a Piece of Work is Man..." speech, but the other was 'To be or not to be". I loved doing it. This was in 1993 and I still remember most of it to this day.

Shakespear tends to get funny looks from people who were not English or Theater majors. My co-worker, Jen, was a sort of bemused confusion to her when I told her I knew the whole thing. In truth I've got about 90 percent of it down. I dropped a few words here oer there, and there;'s a two line bit in the middle I forgot compeltely, but by and large it's still in my brain eleven years after needing it.

The first half of the speech gets all the press. "To be or not to be" I think it's because it's simple. The "slings and arrows" section is a favorite, too, because of the drama in the statement, and "perchance to dream" gets quoted a lot because it sounds poetic but without any of the overly complicated rythyum or antiquated vocabulary that, no pun intended, gives people the willies whenever they have to read Shakespeare.

Great as those lines are, for me, the soliloquy doesn't kick into high gear until after that passage. I love the flow of the phrase "proud man's contimuely"; that whole section is a wonderful protest of the flaws in living: love is still deprized, the law still delays, the office is insolent, oppressor's continue to wrong. 500 years later time still whips and scorns.

But it's the final section I always took most to heart. I mean, I knew well before reading this speech that we prefer the ills we have than the ones we do not know. But those final lines:

thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.

Now that's brilliant. It's the epitomy of Hamlet himself; a guy of great emotion who is desperate to act but is constantly sidetracked by his own introspection. (Yea verily, he was the Original Goth.) Needless to say, that was something I could relate to.

But just the language of it: "the native hue of resolution", "the pale cast of thought", "enterprises of great pitch and moment" . . . just say those words outloud. (Go on; your co-workers'll think you're talking on the phone.) Listen to the way they roll off your tongue, the vowels carry you with measured pace through the stabs of consonants.

And lose the name of action. To end, to stop with the word action is such a simple use of irony but it speaks volumes with its implications. The whole thing is a stirring indictment, just just against Hamlet and what he percieves as his failing, but of others as well. Do not let doubt and over-analysis keep you from your goals, do not let your insecurities forestall you from greatness. To be, or not to be, may be the question, but the answer is there at the end.

There's only about 90 minutes left to it, but today is the 100th anniversary of Bloomsday. June 16, 1904 is the day that James Joyce's novel Ulysses takes place.

I've never read Ulysses. When I was 16 I was foolish enough to attempt to read Finnegan's Wake I got about 80 pages in before giving up. I didn't touch any Joyce until college when I read Portait of an Artist as Young Man and his Dubliners collection.

Portait was a challenge, but ultimately enjoyable. Dubliners was hit or miss for me. But what was undeniable was Joyce's skills as a writer. His detail, his vocabulary, his vision of what the written wrod could accomplish was--is--a triumph of humanity. Literally.

When we read Dubliners in my Irish Writers class at Montclair, the teacher, Dr. Bronson, made the comment that Joyce left Ireland as quickly as he could, but he never wrote about anything but. It's amazing that someone could be so compelled by a place as to leave it, and yet never stop thinking of it. It makes me think of all the people who mask their patriotism in cires of "love it or leave it". That Joyce did both proves what an utterly fallacy such phrases have.

Anyway. June 16 is the date Ulysses takes place it's nice to know people still care about a book written eighty years ago. I realize there's a load of elitism in that statement, but the perspective is valid. Every medium has its apex. It's great that Happy Potter is getting kids to read, but there are bigger mountains worth climbing. Why did you read Ulysses? Because it's there.

(Slight disgression: I read The Once in Future King in the summer of 1991. It was among the selections of the summer reading books. I got a head start, and began reading it in June during finals. At one point, a classmate asked me if it was true that I was reading this 640-page book, not just because it was on the list, but because I actually wanted to read it.)

I like the idea that people are celebrating the anniversary of an event that only existed in the mind of one man; who put that day onto paper and it spread across the world. Ulysses wasn't published unti l922. Today marks a centennial that didn't exist until 18 years after it took place. (Talk about your retroactive continuity.) But what power this story has to accomplish such a task.

Bloggers, we are so outclassed.

OK, so, yes, I've been a bit lax in the blogging thing altely. I apologize. I know none of your lives are complete without some new epiphany from yours trully. I've been busy and, as I'm not very fond of "what I've done lately" posts, I hope you realize I'm only doing this to make up for the fact that it's been over a week since I wrote anything--the previous entry not withstanding.

So, where have I been?

Firstly, I've been working. Really. Mike's contacts landed us another gig for Bright-Matrix so he graciously gave the account to me to handle, and from last Tuesday to Sunday night I've been banging my head against the keyboard trying to come up with a design. It was heady work. I'm not very organized (you may have noticed) so I tend to approach web design by simply staring at a white page--or Photoshop or Fireworks file--and desperately "willing" a compelte design to spring forth immediately.

Alas, that never happens. And, like any good artist, about half-way through the process, the design process grinds to a halt and I think that I can't do it and it's all a failure and how could I ever think I'd be any good at this web design stuff . . . so I take a breather (or, in this case, a day or two off) and then hunker down for the final mad-dash to the finish line and come up something that seriously rocks.

Though it meant blowing off Rob who happily came down on Saturday to hang out, I was able to come up with two complete (well, almost) designs to show the client. I'd show them but I'm a bit hesitant until I get final approval. Maybe once the sites done I can show you the bit by bit process. But the long and long of it is I got the job done, and hope to hear nothing but accolades from the client within the next few days.

Beyond that, Friday night was Yet Another Contempt outting. Much better music this time out, with very much an old-school feel at some points; I heard both The Sisters of Mercy's "Temple of Love" and Bauhaus' "She's in Parties", and even Wolfsheim's "Another World" got spun and made me feel like I was back at Aldo's clubbing it up like we did a few years back. All in all, much Gothy goodness was to be found.

The lighting was also much better this time out, but I'm thinking those wonderful pictures I took in February were a fluke, because nothing I took on Friday came out remotely as good. I know part of the problem is a matter of placement; I was much closer for those first few pictures. With the dance floor packed, I couldn't get close enough to get the best shot possible. I dunno. I did get this intriguing shot, and this one looks right, and this one has a nice effect as well. But I dunno. Three shots out of a 150 may be a good ratio, but it doesn't feel that way. Hmmm. . . .

Anyway, that was Friday. Saturday was mostly spent banging out the designs for our client. Although I did get some time to hang with Rob as I joined him, Sean, Jay, and Sarah for dinner; and though I spent a few hours more at the computer that night, by 10 or 11 I emerged from hibernation to socialize at length. Once Christine arrived, her, Rob, Sean, and myself sat down for some cut-throat Texas Hold'em, and after watching Rob beat Christine at chess it was off to bed.

Sunday was spent with the folks for the combination Mother's Birthday (June 12) and Parent's Anniversary (June 14). Treated them to brunch, got my laundry done for free, and then caem back home to work a few more hours on web design, breaking to watch the finale of Deadwood (which is one seriously kick ass show that you all should have been watching), worked on the websites a bit more, and finally crashed around 12:30.

Monday was work.

Tuesday was work, and here I am.

This has gone on waaaay longer than I intended and despite the posting time below, it's five minutes shy of midnight, so I'm off to bed and I'll ramble on after I get home from work tomorrow.

Nighty-night.

I had a Rush dream last night. I have these periodically, and they almost always involve going to a Rush concert. This one was no different. I was with Kate and we were seeing Rush--I'm presuming it was the Homdell concert since that's the show Kate and I are going to--and Rush was opening with "Tom Sawyer" only I wasn't impressed for some reason. In fact, I realized that, unlike most Rush shows where I am on my feet for the whole thing, I was sitting down. And worse, I noticed that just next to the stage was a secondary percussionist and guitarist. I was amazingly dissapointed to see that Rush were employing back-up mucisians to peform their songs now; perhaps that was why I was sitting down.

The odd thing about it was that I was dreaming about the back-up drummer with incredible detail. I was watching him play the drums--and I don't mean you basic 4/4 beat, I'm talking full-on Neil Peart virtuosity. Now, it could have been dream logic that made me think I was watching intricate drumming, but I know our subconcious has a way of storing more information than our consciousness can handle. And part of me wonders if, subconciously, I can recall every detail of every drum technique I've never seen neil Peart do, and my dream was accessing that information.

Anyway, details get blurry from there. At some point Alex and Geddy were doing their ususl onstage antics and Alex tackled Geddy. Except that they fell of the stage and Geddy became seriously hurt so they had to stop the show. Things got weirder as I somehow got involved in The Life Story of Alex Lifeson and it involved working at a McDonald's-like fast food resturant and a club in Philadelphia I've never been to, even though in my dream I had been there before.

Hey, if my dreams made sense do you think I'd bother writing about them in my blog?.

Still, it's very bizarre: I have a tendency to have Rush dreams where the concert I see somehow ends up a disaster. There have been at least two other Rush dreams that ended up the same way: I go to a concert and the concert is somehow ruined/cancelled, though never by my doing--or maybe in one dream it was, I can't remember for certain. Still, as recurring dreams go, that's rather odd, don't you think? I mean, I never have any sort of dreams like that about Tori Amos. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever had any dreams about Tori Amos....

Paging Dr. Jung. Dr. Carl Jung you're wanted in the Mandala Room...

You might recall, about two months ago, I posted an entry where I talked about my family history, and the realization that my family has reached the point where the memories of preceeding generations are being lost at a pace that grows faster at each day.

Well, it took two months but progress has finally been made. This past Friday I dusted off Ethel's hand-drawn family tree and transfered it into an Excel spreadsheet.

It's an ugly thing, my excel format, but I find it's gangly, sprawling family tree to be rather appropriate for my clan. In the interest of history, I present to you both versions:

Ethel's tree was drawn for me waaay back in the late 80's. I beg it to be around 1988, or perhaps 1987. I asked Ethel to explain my relation to a distant cousin I had an obsessive crush on. Ethel obliged, and along the way she footnoted various other relatives along the way. Ethel was the family historian and though I can't remember the details, I do remember her rattling off names and information with enviable precision. As you can see, it's stained with age, and you have to enjoy the irony that a peice of paper designed to preserve my heritage has become a piece of heritage itself.

Flash forward some sixteen years later and we come to the 2004 tree. It's a sprawling mess, isn't it? I updated it the best I could. Ethel didn't list her children in her original tree, nor did she mention her brother Nat's children. I added them as well as those children's children.

Like a fractal, the closer I looked the more intricate things became. Given that I was making this tree for myself as much as for my Mother's family, it only made sense to include the "kleins" in this widescreen menagerie of names. I realized that my Grandmother was one of four children, and her siblings had children who have children; they will eventually be added. Not to mention that first names abre scratch the sufrace of information available: full names, birthdates and deathdates; occupations, georaphical locations (my mother's side of the family went all over the world) need to be recorded. It also occurs to me that I have neglected to include my Grandpa Joe; Louis, my father's father died before I was born so Joe was my true Grandfather; he'll have to be added and if I try to include his family tree (family I've never met) then even Mandlebrat will balk at the shape of what I'm constructing.

Fortunately this Excel sheet can fade into obscurity. My cousin Kenny has a program that creates family trees. I've played with it a bit; it's a rudimentary thing but it'll do the job, allow me to put the biographical information, and at the very least allow this serpentine lineage from become an incomrepehnsible hieroglyphic.

I've already shared this with my mother and cousisn. Kenny has sent me his tree and my mother is filling in a slew of blanks on both her side and my father's side; of course I'll be contacting my grandmother soon to pick her brain on the subject. All this work and it's just begining.

Why am I doing this again?

Oh, yeah. . . .

So, I've been getting some flattering comments about the last crop of postings to this blog. People seem to enjoy when I get pseudo-philosophical, or whatever it is I'm doing on this thing, and I have to say it feels good knowing that people are genuinely enjoying my blog.

Thusly, in keeping with that theme, I feel it's the right time to post something absolutely trivial. Three utterly simple but uncontrollably addictive Flash games that are sure to give you hours of enjoyment (and a good excuse to blow off work for a few minutes).

All three are from the same website, and given to me via Michael Zavarello. Mike's been a bit pissy lately. It seems he was feeling neglected because I haven't mentioned him much on my Blog. Mind you, this was a guy who, when I first told him that I had a blog and that he should read it, got all self-righteous on me and said "I don't need to read your Blog, if I want to know what's going on in your life then I'll call you." Now I'm bookmarked on his little "page o' links" and he's coming to me--literally crawling on his hands and knees--looking for the tiniest morsel of recognition. I knew people enjoyed my blog, I didn't realize their self-worth was dependent on it. It makes me feel like . . . a Pepsi.

But I am a magnanimous blogger, and therefore deign to bequeath his bequest. Or requeath his request. Or whatever.

So, anyway: Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello Michael Zavarello.

There ya go, Mike. Have I mentioned you enough? Try Googling you name now and see what happens).

Anybody else have a request? I live to serve. Man. (moo hoo, etc.)

Where was I?

OH YES! The games!

Three games. They're on a japanese site so there's minimual English but it's all easy enough to figure out. And the sound effects are funky.

1) This puzzle game makes things grow. Pieces tend to interact with one another, but only in the right order. Mike and I spent about two hours figuring it out, and it's still fun to play.

2) This is a virtual whack-a-mole game, only you whack these cycloptic teletubbies and you have to watch out for landmines. (Ah, those crazy Japanese....)

3) This game makes you create your own leaning tower of shubbery. And there's not really more I can add to that.

Almost as much fun Yeti Sports. Enjoy.

When watching Tori Amos's mother being interviewed on Tori's Welcome to Sunny Florida DVD, realizing she is being interviewed on the last night of the tour and while being interviewed Ben Folds is playing on stage; realizing that you can hear Ben Folds playing so you tune out Tori's mother and strain your ears enough to realize she has the audacity to talk while Ben is performing "Army".

It's kinda like watching Oliver Stone's "The Doors" and replaying a scene because one of the extras looks like Geddy Lee.

Sadly, The Sk8 Jesus Forum closed this week.

I hadn't lurked regularly at Sk8J in some weeks; I've been too busy with other odds and ends to take the time to read the posts, but recently I made my way back to the Velvet Forum and from there learned about Sk8J's demise. From what's been said, the long and short of it is the owner got tired of the aggravation. But in its prime, and at least for me personally while I lurked there, it was a place to go and learn about current events, discuss varous topics both serious and frivilous, and also get my necessary dose of pop culture and comics.

It's a shame to see it go, although I understand why. It tends to happen. How odd is it that the Internet can make it so easy for people to come together and create communities and yet make it equally easy for those communities to fall apart? I sometimes wonder if it's just another result of our culture's increasingly short attention span, but I think there's more to it than that. I think it has more to do with a false sense of familiarity, an illusion of putting everyone at the same level when they're really not. It gives some people the impression they're more familial with people than they are, and gives others the sense that they can say or do whatever they want without reproach.

The Internet is an anonymous creature. I mean, most of you who read this blog know who I am, and that's all well and good. But that means all your knowledge comes from outside this place. What is it like for someone who doesn't know me to come here? What would/do they think? And what about me? I don't even put my name on this thing (well, OK, I do in the "posted by" tag, but you know what I mean). How honest and open is this blog when I don't even have a picture of me on it, or hide the more personal and touchy subjects behind the excuse of SETEC Astronomy?

Still. Gettin back to point: Sk8J is now the third forum I've been on that rather self-imploded. Well, that's not 100% accurate. The first fourm I became a member of was the Rush Interactive Network, or Tri-Net, as it was more commonly known. Yes, a Rush forum. I became heavily involved on the forum, one of the "regulars", and I was there for about a year before the behavior of the forum's owner aggrivated me to the point where I openly criticized him and I left. Then I tried to return a few months later and was curtly told not to return, so that ended that.

It was quite the eye-opener. The problem with Internet communities is that without face to face contact, you tend to be a lot bolder in your behavior.Everyone knows (or you should know) about Internet Trolls, which are certainly the worst examples of this behavior. But from my own experiences it seems that even when someone tries to act "just like in real life" there's still a unconcious recognition of a safety-net in the fact that you are not really talking to someone.

Worse, when you join a forum and begin to enjoy it, help support and build the community that forms in it, you tend to feel that you're entitled to it. I felt that way on Tri-Net. It wasn't arrogance in that "oh, you need me; without me this place would be shit!" sort of way, but more that since the forum was suppsoed to be an open community where we all contributed, I had a right to have a say in how that community was run.

Which is utterly false. The Internet is not a demoncracy. It's not even a great equalizer, when you think about it. All websites are not created equal. And whether you participate in a forum or not, unless you own it you ultimately have no power save what the moderators allow you to have.

So I left/was kicked out from Tri-Net. I tried to fit in at the Warren Ellis Forum, but as much as the place appealed to me, I never fit the rythmn. And eventually Warren got tired of it all and he closed shop in 2002. Now Skate Jesus has done the same.

[Funnily enough, the V continues to thrive. Probably because, by their own admittance, they refuse to take anything that happens there too seriously. Which is sound advice to anyone who ever gets into an argument online. (Hi Leigh. Hi Kerry. Hi myself.)]

On the bright-side, a new Forum has sprung up to at least partially replace Skate. Quoth the introduction: The New Medievalism is a current affairs forum, an aggregator and discussion community centered around the danger and opportunity of our new medieval age. Since the millenium, events and personalities in the world have steered international and domestic politics, culture and economics into a crisis of conflict, fear and uncertainty. . . . Is this in fact a new era or just a momentary blip? Let the events and people show. Which is a nice and flowery way of saying it's a current events forum, with asides into other cultural/social/artistic commentary. The creator was a regular of the WEF and posted many a-news article on Skate. He started The New Medievalism at his friend's urging.

So here we go again. One forum goes, one forum takes its place (or a close approximation thereof). Round and round we go....

One final thought before I'm off to Dreamtime.

I was having dinner with Aline this past Sunday night and we began talking about the friends we've had for several years, trying to figure out at what point do some of your "friends" become "old friends".

It occurs to me that "old" freinds occur when you find yourself in a new social circle with a set of friends, but stll keep in touch with people of the previous social circle.

Miller, Pete, Noah, these are my "old" friends. They were friends of mine well before I got into Players. Tara, Ryan, Dave, Debbie; they also fall into that categorey. Now,my Players friends, despite having been my friends for over eight years now, are still technically my "new" friends because I haven't formed a fresher circle as yet (though I suppose the Verney's and Henkes' present a proto-cirlce of sorts.) I presume, once I move down to Philly and find a group of people there, that's when my most recent friends will become my "old" friends.

I think we are all given a limited capacity to the amount of friendships we can handle. As much as circumstance plays a part in the friendships we maintain over time, I think it bottoms down to some sort of subconscious resevoir that we each have, a storage area where we can allot time and energy and emotion towards specific relationships.

And no matter how close a friendship is, it is ultimately expendable depending on how important newer relationships become. At some point a sacrifice is made, even if it is subconscious. It's not cruel per se. Also, consider that there are different types of friendships: the Bogota crew gets together at most twice a year, but the three remaining couples of that group are extremely close friends. So the mind (and the heart) has the ability to adjust friendships, allowing some to be nutured less frequently than others, but with no less intensity when it is given attention. This juggling of priorities allows friendships to survive even though the mind (and the heart) has its limited resources to devote "only so much" at any given present.

It doesn't do one too well to dwell on these things for too long. The subconcious gets along fine without attention drawn to it, and though there are benefits for shedding some light into the shadows of your mind, the truth is there are some things that thrive best in the dark.

With this post's subject-heading, part of me is thinking Star Trek, part of me is thinking John Byrne. I'm a twice-damned geek, aren't I? (Well, reall,y I'm at least thrice-damned; probably more, but that's for another post...)

Anyway, the point of this particular entry has to do with the baby christening I went to. well, I didn't actually go to the christening but the party afterwards.

A bit of history: When my parents went to Bogota to get my brother, they met up with four or five couples from roughly the same area my parents lived in. These couples formed a friendship and became known as "The Bogota Group". In the three decades since then, the cirlce has dwindled down to three couples: my parents, Janet and Barry, Bob and Nancy Murray, and . . . well, I can't remember their last name but it's Al and Maria.

Bob and Nancy adopted Danny. they also adopted, from within the States, Jill. Jill got married back in 2002 and in December of last year gave birth to a baby girl, Torrie. Torrie was Christened this past Sunday and my parents, and myself, were invited to the celebration.

This alone was rather odd; Jill is two years younger than me, but I get along more with her parents than herself. Not only that, but of the three children adopted from Bogota, only Danny was present. Brian is out in Minneapolis and Al and Maria's daughter alma couldn't make it. Alma's daughter (also blanking on her name; verily my brain is like unto a sieve) was there though, and this in itself has bearing on my actual point which I am, slowly, getting to.

The point is: here I am at this gathering, and I'm hanging out with the the three couples. Off elsewhere in the backyard is Jill and her husband John and their friends. Many of them have brought their own babies. At which point it occurs to me: the Kids have grown up.

You know how it is: when you grow up you're stuck to the "kids table" with everyone your own age. And even as you frow up and get into your twenties, you're still sitting at the "kids table" when the holiday's roll around.

The thing is, watching Jill and her friends . . . they've become the adults. Because now at these gatherings there's a whole new generation that have become residents of the "kids table". Hell, Alma's daughter is six years old already--and she was playing with the few kids roughly her age.

It's still a culture shock for me because my direct friends have yet to breed. The fact that the few of my friends that have married--Jay and Sarah, Lauren and Dave--don't want kids doesn't help matters. It's not like there'll be any Little Wills or Little Fentons running about in the near future. So when we all get together, despite the proliferation of wedding bands, it still very much feels like the college crowd.

But Dave and Caryn have kids in their future. I wouldn't be surprised if Sam winds up with kids within the next few years. Eric's gonna get married in August and I'd bet he and Heather wind up parents. When Tracy and Ian get hitched you know it's just a matter of time before they have kids. And I know for a fact that Sean's gonna wind up with at least three daughters once he finds someone to settle down with. So it may take a few more years, but it won't be too much longer before my "college friends" become parents. (Bobbhy Duane as Daddy. Be afraid. Be very afraid.)

When I was a pree-teen, even a teenager, growing up was a finish line. The idea of reaching adulthood felt like an endpoint. I'd be an adult and my progression of life would stop. It's a given that this isn't the case, I know that, but I don't think the comprehension was a conscious one until very recently. And what a sobering thought it is to realize that my life has reached the point where I've stopped growing up and have begun the process of growing older.

I was dilaing around the TV, passing through MTV (hey, that rhymes) when I came across the Duff Sisters' video for their cover of The Go-Go's "Our Lips are Sealed". I didn't know there was a cover of "Our Lips Our Sealed". It was a boring little remake--guitar taking over for the dated 80's synth hook, the drumming beat away any of the finesse the original's percussion had. Hilary and Haylie's vocals are clearly augmented by studio effects and yet they can't quite match harmonies, despite both voices being equally generic. And whatever producer desisngated which sister cang which lyrics should be shot--they completely chopped up the song's natural rythmn. The video did contain a nice touch of inscestous sexuality: the Duff sisters (and, verily, why aren't these girls on The Simpsons hawking Duff Beer?) constantly stare into the camera with "come-hither" eyes and they are constantly touching one anothers hands, standing so close to the single microphone stand you'd think they were conjoined. I did find the continual wind-machine to be amusing, though.

But none of that is important. The point is that the Duff Sisters have covered the Go-Go's out lips are sealed. Think about this. Hilary Duff was born in 1987. This girl wasn't even alive when the Go-Go's put their single out. More to the point--It's been twenty-three years since the Go-Go's released this song. This is my sordid youth, we're talking about. Sure, 1981 was almost too young for me to remember--and I know even that comment makes people out there feel old--but then again that's my point.

(It is here, somewhere, amidst all this rambling.)

The point is this: Our youth--our pre-adolsecent youth--is over twenty years old. It's already been strip-mined for nostalgia by marketing groups, but now something even weirder is happening: reverence. Jessica Simpson's current single is Berlin's "Take my Breath Away", which is a year shy of being a twenty-year-old single itself. Perhaps it's co-incidence to have two quintessential 80's songs being re-recorded in close proximity, but it does show that the pop gems of our youth have a longevity to them that we never considered because we grew-up with them. Classic songs were what our parents listened to. But think about it: in 1984 it was only twenty years since the Beatles debuted on the Ed Sullivan Show. Now it's twenty years since the Go-Go's last album. Not exactly an event of similar cultural signifigance, but I think it helps with the perspective.

Now, I'm sure there's a touch of marketing in the choice of these songs. Since these are classics (in the relative sense) of our youth then it's easy to suppose these songs were purposely chosen to appeal to over-thirty crowd. But that still means choosing songs that, twenty years after the fact, still hold up. Their remakes may blow, and they do, but the appeal of the original remains.

Mind you, this isn't a new phenomenon. Remember the late 80's remake of "Lean on Me"? How about Phil Collins' "You Can't Hurry Love"? Soft Cell's "Tainted Love"? The Bowie/Jagger deut of "Dancin' in the Streets"? Hell, what about Taco's "Putting on the Ritz"?

I've long since known we're not in Kansas anymore. But it's still kind aweird when I realize how long it's been since we've been out of my childhood.

I was tuned into the shine of the late night dial
Doing anything my radio advised
With everyone of those late night stations
playing songs bringing tears to my eyes
I was seriously thinking about hiding the reciever
When the switch broke cause it's old
They're saying things I can hardly believe
They really think we're getttin' out of control

Radio is the sound salvation
Radio is cleaning up the nation
They say you better listen to the Voice of Reason
But they don;t give you any choice
'Cause they think that it's treason
So you had better do as you were told
You better listen to the radio

I wanna bite the hand that feeds me
I wanna bite that hand so badly
I wanna make them wish they'd never seen me

Some of my freinds sit around every evening
And they worry about the times ahead
But everybody else is overwhelmed by indifference
And the promise of an early bed
You either shut up or get cut out
They don't wanna hear about it
It's only inches on the reel to reel
And the radio is in the hands
Of such a lot of fools tryin' to
Anesthetize the way that you feel

Radio is the sound salvation
Radio is cleaning up the nation
They say you better listen to the Voice Of Reason
But they don't give any choice
'Cause they think that its treason
So you had better do as you were told
You better listen to the radio

Wonderful Radio
Nothing Less than Radio
Radio, Radio

----Elvis Costello