: : : the archives : : :
10.31.04
. . . all hallow's eve
happy halloween. maddie and i went trick-or-treating with some of the neighbors. little girls had a lot of fun, and maddie has a huge sack of candy. great. i'll give some to her mom.
daddy's tired.
daddy's tired.
10.30.04
. . . the gift of insults
there once lived a great warrior. though quite old, he still was able to defeat any challenger. his reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him.
one day an infamous young warrior arrived at the village. he was determined to be the first man to defeat the great master. along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. he would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. no one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.
much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior's challenge. as the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. he threw dirt and spit in his face. for hours he verbally assaulted him with every curse and insult known to mankind. but the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm. finally, the young warrior exhausted himself. knowing he was defeated, he left feeling shamed.
somewhat disappointed that he did not fight the insolent youth, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him. "how could you endure such an indignity? how did you drive him away?"
"if someone comes to give you a gift and you do not receive it," the master replied, "to whom does the gift belong?"
one day an infamous young warrior arrived at the village. he was determined to be the first man to defeat the great master. along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. he would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. no one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.
much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior's challenge. as the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. he threw dirt and spit in his face. for hours he verbally assaulted him with every curse and insult known to mankind. but the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm. finally, the young warrior exhausted himself. knowing he was defeated, he left feeling shamed.
somewhat disappointed that he did not fight the insolent youth, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him. "how could you endure such an indignity? how did you drive him away?"
"if someone comes to give you a gift and you do not receive it," the master replied, "to whom does the gift belong?"
10.29.04
. . . i am dreaming
i am soaring above tempestuous cliffs, grey waters booming against basalt monoliths. flying the shoreline, just me, supported by hope and faith and love as i scream down the coast, arms outstretched.
bank right, nose down hard, lose altitude.
i come to a huge crescent shaped bay, with a dome at each end. the ends defy the angry sea, huge granite gaurdians unadorned by plants or trees - barren.
as i fly the gentle curve of the new moon's slender shape, i can see this gentle bastion in all its glory. it is the most beautiful thing my eyes have never looked upon. a picture in my mind of all that is light and white and good and pure, standing fast against the ravages of an angry ocean. the setting sun washes gold over everything, glowing clouds pass its radiance and reflect the red orange light upon the sawgrasses growing between the rocks, between here and now, this first hillock.
faster, ever faster, for my true love stands on the opposite shore, golden hair and white robe flowing. blue piercing eyes seek mine out, and with arms outstretched, she beckons me, bids me join her by her side.
my joy fills me. this is the engine that pounds inside, empowers me. caressing me in its grasp, i am become love. pure, true, eternal.
as is my heart. this time i'll make it, this time i'll make it. this time.
then i fall, silently, to the grinding rocks and pounding waves below. i break upon the merciless boulders and am consumed by the water. i sink slowly under the surface, and can see the glow and the gold and the woman in the white robe standing atop the hillock. as i drift twoards the abyss, i stare. wondering why she would destroy light and good and purity. end love. i fall into the ocean's grip, watching my life's blood flow from my broken heart.
she turns, her head drops, and she walks away as i drown.
it goes black, and then i awake.
10.29.04
. . . the angel cries
"in my dreams i found a little of the beauty i had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.
once when the wind was soft and scented i heard the south calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars.
once when the gentle rain fell i glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till i reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses.
and once i walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze."
-ex oblivione, h. p. lovecraft
10.28.04
. . . the perfect song
says everything that i feel. but this time i'm the chorus, and you the verse.
i'll sing it one last time for you
then we really have to go
you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done.
and i can barely look at you
but every single time i do
i know we'll make it anywhere
anywhere from here
light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
i'll be right beside you dear
louder, louder
and we'll run for our lives
i can hardly speak i understand
why you can't raise your voice to say
to think i might not see those eyes
it makes it so hard not to cry
and as we say our long goodbyes
i nearly do.
light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
i'll be right beside you dear
louder, louder
and we'll run for our lives
i can hardly speak i understand
why you can't raise your voice to say
slower, slower
we don't have time for that
all i want is to find an easier way
to get out of our little heads
have heart my dear
we're bound to be afraid
even if it's just for a few days
making up for all this mess.
light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
i'll be right beside you dear
i'll sing it one last time for you
then we really have to go
you've been the only thing that's right
in all i've done.
and i can barely look at you
but every single time i do
i know we'll make it anywhere
anywhere from here
light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
i'll be right beside you dear
louder, louder
and we'll run for our lives
i can hardly speak i understand
why you can't raise your voice to say
to think i might not see those eyes
it makes it so hard not to cry
and as we say our long goodbyes
i nearly do.
light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
i'll be right beside you dear
louder, louder
and we'll run for our lives
i can hardly speak i understand
why you can't raise your voice to say
slower, slower
we don't have time for that
all i want is to find an easier way
to get out of our little heads
have heart my dear
we're bound to be afraid
even if it's just for a few days
making up for all this mess.
light up, light up
as if you have a choice
even if you cannot hear my voice
i'll be right beside you dear
10.28.04
. . . no more anthrax
at least not for now. various civilian and military new sources report that u.s. district court judge emmet g. sullivan ordered the dod to cease and desist the involuntary administration of the anthrax vaccine to military members.
this is not the first time judge sullivan has made such a decision - the first came in december of 03, and was overturned two weeks later in an order from under secretary of defense for personnel and readiness david s. c. chu.
oh, the fud.
let me codify this. i've had it and have experienced no adverse affects. in his ruling, judge sullivan stated "congress has prohibited the administration of investigational drugs to service members without their consent...this court will not permit the government to circumvent this requirement."
i'm all for protecting the troops. but this is crazy.
10.27.04
. . . lunar eclipse tonight
don't miss it!
10.27.04
. . . omg! teh hobbitses!!!
10.26.04
. . . death of a personal hero
john peel died on holiday in peru.
a fixture at the bbc and dj extrodinaire on radio one, john peel's contributions to modern music are incalculable.
because of who he was, he was able to play whatever he bloody well pleased, bowing neither head not neck to anyone or anything. a rare commodity in our society...the last of the musical gunslingers has left us for greener pastures. farewell.
a fixture at the bbc and dj extrodinaire on radio one, john peel's contributions to modern music are incalculable.
because of who he was, he was able to play whatever he bloody well pleased, bowing neither head not neck to anyone or anything. a rare commodity in our society...the last of the musical gunslingers has left us for greener pastures. farewell.
10.25.04
. . . it's kicking in
starting to feel drowsy. before my typing goes to hell, i want to say that i survived another day. still broken, but not beaten.
10.25.04
. . . welcome to my life
simple plan, welcome to my life
do you ever feel like breaking down?
do you ever feel out of place?
like somehow you just don’t belong
and no one understands you
do you ever wanna run away?
do you lock yourself in your room?
with the radio on turned up so loud
that no one hears you screaming
no you don’t know what it’s like
when nothing feels alright
you don’t know what it’s like to be like me
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
welcome to my life
do you wanna be somebody else?
are you sick of feeling so left out?
are you desperate to find something more
before your life is over
are you stuck inside a world you hate?
are you sick of everyone around?
with the big fake smiles and stupid lies
but deep inside you’re bleeding
no you don’t know what it’s like
when nothing feels alright
you don’t know what it’s like to be like me
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
welcome to my life
no one ever lies straight to your face
and no one ever stabbed you in the back
you might think i’m happy
but i’m not gonna be ok
everybody always gave you what you wanted
you never had to work it was always there
you don’t know what it’s like
what it’s like
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
welcome to my life
welcome to my life
welcome to my life
do you ever feel like breaking down?
do you ever feel out of place?
like somehow you just don’t belong
and no one understands you
do you ever wanna run away?
do you lock yourself in your room?
with the radio on turned up so loud
that no one hears you screaming
no you don’t know what it’s like
when nothing feels alright
you don’t know what it’s like to be like me
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
welcome to my life
do you wanna be somebody else?
are you sick of feeling so left out?
are you desperate to find something more
before your life is over
are you stuck inside a world you hate?
are you sick of everyone around?
with the big fake smiles and stupid lies
but deep inside you’re bleeding
no you don’t know what it’s like
when nothing feels alright
you don’t know what it’s like to be like me
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
welcome to my life
no one ever lies straight to your face
and no one ever stabbed you in the back
you might think i’m happy
but i’m not gonna be ok
everybody always gave you what you wanted
you never had to work it was always there
you don’t know what it’s like
what it’s like
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
to be hurt
to feel lost
to be left out in the dark
to be kicked
when you’re down
to feel like you’ve been pushed around
to be on the edge of breaking down
when no one’s there to save you
no you don’t know what it’s like
welcome to my life
welcome to my life
welcome to my life
10.23.04
. . . thoughtcrimes
ever read orwell's 1984? truly a disturbing book, and a must read for those who've skipped it. i managed to find a completely indexed and fully searchable copy online.
read it. one of the most striking concepts i took from the book was the idea that you and you alone allow someone else to control you, your emotions, your thoughts, to cause you to suffer. as winston is "re-educated", he's instructed that one exerts power over another by causing pain. pain is power.
amongst the things learned in the last two years is that very fact, that one can exert control via the infliction of pain.
even more importantly, however, is this: you have the ultimate power. you are able to exert and apply this power by not allowing yourself to suffer.
and guess what? i don't hurt. i'm sad, of course, wish that life had dealt a different hand, but i do not hurt anymore.
i want all in. pushed my stack into the middle, and let it ride. i didn't know that i was playing against a stacked deck in a crooked house, and it's no wonder that i lost. i bet it all, and even though i'm walking out empty handed, i'm still the same person deep down in the very core of my being. the choices of another cannot, do not, and will not affect me any longer.
i am. i exist. i live, breathe, and still love. nothing will change that. but i realize that now that it is mine, and mine alone. it cannot be taken from me.
i do not suffer.
read it. one of the most striking concepts i took from the book was the idea that you and you alone allow someone else to control you, your emotions, your thoughts, to cause you to suffer. as winston is "re-educated", he's instructed that one exerts power over another by causing pain. pain is power.
amongst the things learned in the last two years is that very fact, that one can exert control via the infliction of pain.
even more importantly, however, is this: you have the ultimate power. you are able to exert and apply this power by not allowing yourself to suffer.
and guess what? i don't hurt. i'm sad, of course, wish that life had dealt a different hand, but i do not hurt anymore.
i want all in. pushed my stack into the middle, and let it ride. i didn't know that i was playing against a stacked deck in a crooked house, and it's no wonder that i lost. i bet it all, and even though i'm walking out empty handed, i'm still the same person deep down in the very core of my being. the choices of another cannot, do not, and will not affect me any longer.
i am. i exist. i live, breathe, and still love. nothing will change that. but i realize that now that it is mine, and mine alone. it cannot be taken from me.
i do not suffer.
10.21.04
. . . another day
and another night. the cycle of light and dark blurred into a grey wasteland stretching out across the horizon of my mind and into eternity.
they say that time heals all wounds - this is untrue. the passage of time simply dulls the hurt, allows the mind to forget, the soul to form scar tissue and the heart to harden.
would that time passed faster.
they say that time heals all wounds - this is untrue. the passage of time simply dulls the hurt, allows the mind to forget, the soul to form scar tissue and the heart to harden.
would that time passed faster.
10.19.04
. . . the rain king
wow - worst storm in ten years, and i think that my mood and state of mind have brought it! i can't tell you how happy i am to see mother nature cry with me, to have the wind blow icy knives into my skin, to see the clouds scud across the sky in a feverish dance towards destruction.
fire and ice - robert frost:
some say the world will end in fire,
some say in ice.
from what i've tasted of desire
i hold with those who favor fire.
but if it had to perish twice,
i think i know enough of hate
to say that for destruction ice
is also great
and would suffice.
hate is also great, and does suffice.
fire and ice - robert frost:
some say the world will end in fire,
some say in ice.
from what i've tasted of desire
i hold with those who favor fire.
but if it had to perish twice,
i think i know enough of hate
to say that for destruction ice
is also great
and would suffice.
hate is also great, and does suffice.
10.18.04
. . . atempted post while hi
on ambien (spelling is a joke i feel "floatee", disjointed amd wavy. cognitively dizzy and i don't really like it, gonna pass the torch to you all as i say goodnite, sweet dreams until you wake.
i can't see my fimgers and i can hear voices in my head. i'm off...
i can't see my fimgers and i can hear voices in my head. i'm off...
10.16.04
. . . done
today's random quote was you can only help those who want to be helped...
i can't help anymore. i'm through with thinking that things'll change, that it'll get better, that someday i might be more important than other things...screw what could have been. hope your habit is worth it.
it's over.
i can't help anymore. i'm through with thinking that things'll change, that it'll get better, that someday i might be more important than other things...screw what could have been. hope your habit is worth it.
it's over.
10.14.04
. . . chiro
you know, i used to think that chiropracter's were quacks. then i jacked up my back, was in pain for months, and after an hour session, felt no pain for a day or two. i'm going back, right now, actually, and can look forward to a drug-free nap this afternoon after work.
feels so good to know that it won't be chronic pain forever...
10.12.04
. . . thanks mom and dad
thanks so much for showing me, every single day that i was growing up, what it can be like. thank you for loving me, for teaching me right from wrong, for the patience and the understanding. thank you so much for holding me when i cried, laughing when i goofed up, and telling me that you loved me every day. thanks for taking me in as a baby, for raising me in the church, for the soccer games and family home evenings, the games, the good times and the bad.
most of all, for being the example that i want so much to be, to have for myself.
i'm sorry for all the times i've let you down, broken your heart, made you worry or cry.
i miss you two. i've got very little to show you for the investment you made in me, but someday, i promise, someday you'll be proud of me.
10.12.04
. . . oh MY
i was browsing the forum and came across this link. fairly innocous, right? check out the video. local mirror (use only if the original is "dead"). i laughed for the first time in a week. i want one!
10.12.04
. . . could be worse?
i could be the little girl in this john michael montgomery song:
her parents never took the young girl to church,
never spoke of his name,
never read her his word.
two non-believers walking lost in this world,
took their baby with them,
what a sad little girl.
her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs.
never wanted to play,
or give kisses and hugs.
she'd watch the tv and sit there on the couch,
while her mom fell asleep,
and her daddy went out.
and the drinking and the fighting,
just got worse every night.
behind their couch, she'd be hiding:
oh, what a sad little life.
and like it always does, the bad just got worse,
with every slap,
and every curse.
until her daddy, in a drunk rage one night,
used a gun on her mom,
and then took his life.
and some people from the city,
took the girl far away.
to a new mom and dad:
kisses and hugs everyday.
her first day of sunday school the teacher walked in,
and a small little girl,
stared a picture of him.
she said i know that man up there on that cross,
i don't know his name,
but i know he got off.
'cause he was there in my old house
and held me close to his side.
as i hid there, behind our couch,
the night that my parents died."
that one just about ripped my heart from my chest.
her parents never took the young girl to church,
never spoke of his name,
never read her his word.
two non-believers walking lost in this world,
took their baby with them,
what a sad little girl.
her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs.
never wanted to play,
or give kisses and hugs.
she'd watch the tv and sit there on the couch,
while her mom fell asleep,
and her daddy went out.
and the drinking and the fighting,
just got worse every night.
behind their couch, she'd be hiding:
oh, what a sad little life.
and like it always does, the bad just got worse,
with every slap,
and every curse.
until her daddy, in a drunk rage one night,
used a gun on her mom,
and then took his life.
and some people from the city,
took the girl far away.
to a new mom and dad:
kisses and hugs everyday.
her first day of sunday school the teacher walked in,
and a small little girl,
stared a picture of him.
she said i know that man up there on that cross,
i don't know his name,
but i know he got off.
'cause he was there in my old house
and held me close to his side.
as i hid there, behind our couch,
the night that my parents died."
that one just about ripped my heart from my chest.
10.12.04
. . . get better
my good friend jesse had surgery. in the hospital as i type this meaningless post. no words of mine can describe the concern and hope that i feel as you recover.
jesse, my prayers are with you and yours.
jesse, my prayers are with you and yours.
10.12.04
. . . cellular jamming
according to slashdot, the french are gonna jam cell phones in theatres, cinemas, and concert halls. some will whine and say that this is a violation of some kind - to those pc naysayers, i say go stuff it into an unlit orifice. there are few things in this world as annoying as the utter twit taking a call in the theater while you're trying to watch a movie.
i hate french politics, but for the first time since 1945, they seem to have the right idea.
i hate french politics, but for the first time since 1945, they seem to have the right idea.
10.11.04
. . . days long gone
i posted the following (well, really i wrote it) so very long ago - it almost seems like an entire lifetime has passed.
i'm lost, and i want to go home. i don't even know where home is anymore. i love maddie more than life itself - and she is the happiness that keeps me going. i get up, i go to work, i come home. i don't sleep much - i dream too much. the wolves are silent now...
"when time ceased to matter, when i measured its passage by moon and stars in southern skies, i took an elk with my bow. tired yet still proud, he was alone as i. seeming to await my arrival patiently, he stood resolutely, unflinching at my sight and smell. our eyes met mid arrow's flight, and he smiled at me as death thumped into his heart. sighing in harmony with the singing of my bow, he bent his knees and laid down his life there in the grass. he was dead when i reached him.
i knelt on the canyon's floor, beside my brother, and cut out his heart. i raised his life to the sky, and then ate it. the bull's spirit left this world as his life's blood ran down my chin.
this gift was not wasted, and while he traveled better paths, his final smiling benediction gave me new life. his brain-tanned hide replaced my weary boots, and guarded me against the night's bitter chill. his sinews were thread to sew with splintered bone a jacket and rude trousers that were tougher than the mountains themselves. the point of an antler replaced my broken knife's hilt, his guts enticed silvery trout in crystal streams. the sun dried meat of his shoulders and haunch filled me, sustaining me. his shoulder blades i chipped into arrow points, and his bones a marker became, mutely crying "here passed a hunter, to whom i gave my life".
grandfather's ghost smiled softly, nodding approval at the way i wasted nothing. what i could not use i left for the hungry wild things, the wolverines and the bears.
long did my journey continue, until i came to a fold in the shoulder of a mountain. a snowmelt stream raced by, murmuring in a bed of boulders and stubborn cattails. nearby, fingers of hardwoods reached from under an evergreen canopy.
intending to be gone in the morning, i made my camp. using the knife papa gifted me when a boy, i dug a pit in the loamy earth. the stream's smooth bedclothes lined it, and i strode into the forest, gathering the bounty of its floor. with offerings from ancient oaks bound loosely with rope, i returned and built a fire into which i fed last gift of dying trees. i warmed my weary feet and calloused hands in its dancing glow. the sun soon set on distant peaks, and night fell upon me with all its savage beauty. the fire watched me drift off, and guarded me through the night.
the sun burned holes in my eyes as i awoke. rising, i greeted her with an offering of smoke, cattail roots, duck eggs, and the bacon from an unlucky sow. satisfied, i drank from the cold stream, washed my face, and filled my waterskin.
the day warmed, but not much. i was too high to really be warm. as i strapped my life to my back, preparing to leave, something gave me pause. i looked over the meadow filled with wildflowers, and from behind me in the forest's depths, a solitary wolf sang his loneliness. my pack slipped from fingers suddenly numb, fevered chills caressed the nape of my neck, and an inner voice raised its rich tenor to the contralto wolf-song, singing quietly, "this is the place".
it took all the skill i had to fell and shape the logs that formed my cabin. i carved two new axe handles from hickory deadfalls, and my back ached from the summer's long days of happy labor. the stream yielded clay and stones for hearth and chimney. i chinked the walls inside and out with red mud from it's bed. i worked from sunup to nightfall, worried that winter would rush me like an angry bear, and catching me unawares, force me to flee this place.
it took shape, one laborious sweaty layer at a time, on a small rise yards from stream and forest. in those waters lived fish, and i discovered apples and wild berries in the woods. again, i hunted, never seeing the wolf that i knew was watching. what i could not use, i left for him, and it was bountiful. he sang his thanks to me in his mournful solitary contralto.
at long last, my labor finished, i fashioned a door from rough sawn planks, and made oiled windows from the last of my paper. winter descended, harsh and stern under unforgiving skies.
long did that winter last, many many moons waxed and waned. the mountain above and behind assaulted my home with snow and ice and biting winds. i hunted, i grubbed for roots, i melted ice and snow for my daily drink, and i survived. i know the wolf had a hard go of it, for every night the oaks and pines resonated with his lament for the silent death upon the face of the world. he and i endured the long night, each safe and warm in cabin and den, sleepily content no matter the fury outside.
then, as is the course of all natural things, the bawling tempests and deathly storms howled themselves out. life began anew. the meadow's flowers burst exuberantly from the ground, the stream threw off winters' grip, the trees pushed leaves out every twig until they seemed impossibly green. i exhumed my seeds from a long unused pack, and planted a garden of tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, carrots, and potatoes. times were lean until the earth brought forth it's first fruit, and after, the rich soil's blessing sustained me.
i added to my home, fashioning a table, two chairs, and a mantle from green woods, bending and shaping with axe and knife until they were comfortable. a lean-to rested, newly built, against the eastern wall of the cabin, filled to overflowing with wood hard fought and won from the dead trees deep inside the forest. i dug a root cellar, and filled it with preserved meat, dried fish, and the fruits of the garden. steps fashioned from rounded stones and bound together with clay i planted before my door. i rendered the fat of three peccaries into soap, combining the drippings with lye steeped from the ashes of my fires. at long last, i was cleansed.
working quietly, almost reverently, a bed next i made, from oak and woven rushes. the oak was a sturdy frame where i wove the rushes, laying my mattress made of shredded cattails. the downy softness of them sewn inside the last of my canvas, i once again slumbered in comfort. the wolf and i sang each other to sleep.
the seasons (and i was aware of them again, for the moon was no longer an adequate keeper of time) changed again, and i noted a welcome chill, the sharp teeth in the air, the silvery hoar of frost on the meadow. the summer was fleeting, so full of improvements, so wrought with labor and sweat and tears of frustration and eventual triumph. it fled and was gone before i even noticed it leaving. fall was short, the trees releasing their leaves that fell in into piles of gold and amber and yellow glory littering the forest's floor.
the first snow fell soon after, dusting my valley in great sheets of aching white. one bitter cold day, as the light faded in deference to impending night, i sat eating my evening meal, preparing for winter's grip, readying myself for the lonesome sojourn ahead.
astonishingly, there came a knock, afraid to be heard, that brushed softly my door. within the space of a single heartbeat, i felt elation, knew fear, cried for sadness, laughed for joy, fought back pain, befriended terror and embraced happiness. there came a pounding from my chest, as the elk's heart beat madly, chasing the wind in his primeval heaven. we raced and lept through vale and glen, and in the vaults of my soul, i saw his last smile, and understood his gift at last. my mind screamed not to answer that subtle salutation, but the deeper, more powerful things i had consumed with my brother's heart forced my hand.
i rushed to open the latch, and wrestled frantically with it, for it was stuck. fearing that no-one would be there, finally i flung wide the entry, and beheld there a traveler more weary than ever i had seen before. a worn and tired sojourner, who's trail was far longer and much steeper than ever mine was. the tattered, stained clothes, the bruised hands, a dirty face, and broken posture bore screaming testimony to pain so unbearable it tore me in places only my soul knew existed.
wonderingly, fearfully, the wanderer's eyes met mine, and the questions there remained unasked, unsaid. there was no conflict in me, as i took the proffered hand, led the sufferer inside, and bade "please, sit at my table. fill yourself with fruits from my garden, from the sacrifices of days gone by. warm yourself in the light and heat of my fire". then kneeling, i tenderly bathed the feet of my guest, soothing as best i could the wounds i found there. words were unspoken, unnecessary, and inadequate, as tears fell from our eyes.
outside, my friend the wolf howled his joyous approval. for the first time, another voice rose in perfect harmony with his, adding her blessed soprano to his contralto, and my heart sang inside me."
i'm lost, and i want to go home. i don't even know where home is anymore. i love maddie more than life itself - and she is the happiness that keeps me going. i get up, i go to work, i come home. i don't sleep much - i dream too much. the wolves are silent now...
"when time ceased to matter, when i measured its passage by moon and stars in southern skies, i took an elk with my bow. tired yet still proud, he was alone as i. seeming to await my arrival patiently, he stood resolutely, unflinching at my sight and smell. our eyes met mid arrow's flight, and he smiled at me as death thumped into his heart. sighing in harmony with the singing of my bow, he bent his knees and laid down his life there in the grass. he was dead when i reached him.
i knelt on the canyon's floor, beside my brother, and cut out his heart. i raised his life to the sky, and then ate it. the bull's spirit left this world as his life's blood ran down my chin.
this gift was not wasted, and while he traveled better paths, his final smiling benediction gave me new life. his brain-tanned hide replaced my weary boots, and guarded me against the night's bitter chill. his sinews were thread to sew with splintered bone a jacket and rude trousers that were tougher than the mountains themselves. the point of an antler replaced my broken knife's hilt, his guts enticed silvery trout in crystal streams. the sun dried meat of his shoulders and haunch filled me, sustaining me. his shoulder blades i chipped into arrow points, and his bones a marker became, mutely crying "here passed a hunter, to whom i gave my life".
grandfather's ghost smiled softly, nodding approval at the way i wasted nothing. what i could not use i left for the hungry wild things, the wolverines and the bears.
long did my journey continue, until i came to a fold in the shoulder of a mountain. a snowmelt stream raced by, murmuring in a bed of boulders and stubborn cattails. nearby, fingers of hardwoods reached from under an evergreen canopy.
intending to be gone in the morning, i made my camp. using the knife papa gifted me when a boy, i dug a pit in the loamy earth. the stream's smooth bedclothes lined it, and i strode into the forest, gathering the bounty of its floor. with offerings from ancient oaks bound loosely with rope, i returned and built a fire into which i fed last gift of dying trees. i warmed my weary feet and calloused hands in its dancing glow. the sun soon set on distant peaks, and night fell upon me with all its savage beauty. the fire watched me drift off, and guarded me through the night.
the sun burned holes in my eyes as i awoke. rising, i greeted her with an offering of smoke, cattail roots, duck eggs, and the bacon from an unlucky sow. satisfied, i drank from the cold stream, washed my face, and filled my waterskin.
the day warmed, but not much. i was too high to really be warm. as i strapped my life to my back, preparing to leave, something gave me pause. i looked over the meadow filled with wildflowers, and from behind me in the forest's depths, a solitary wolf sang his loneliness. my pack slipped from fingers suddenly numb, fevered chills caressed the nape of my neck, and an inner voice raised its rich tenor to the contralto wolf-song, singing quietly, "this is the place".
it took all the skill i had to fell and shape the logs that formed my cabin. i carved two new axe handles from hickory deadfalls, and my back ached from the summer's long days of happy labor. the stream yielded clay and stones for hearth and chimney. i chinked the walls inside and out with red mud from it's bed. i worked from sunup to nightfall, worried that winter would rush me like an angry bear, and catching me unawares, force me to flee this place.
it took shape, one laborious sweaty layer at a time, on a small rise yards from stream and forest. in those waters lived fish, and i discovered apples and wild berries in the woods. again, i hunted, never seeing the wolf that i knew was watching. what i could not use, i left for him, and it was bountiful. he sang his thanks to me in his mournful solitary contralto.
at long last, my labor finished, i fashioned a door from rough sawn planks, and made oiled windows from the last of my paper. winter descended, harsh and stern under unforgiving skies.
long did that winter last, many many moons waxed and waned. the mountain above and behind assaulted my home with snow and ice and biting winds. i hunted, i grubbed for roots, i melted ice and snow for my daily drink, and i survived. i know the wolf had a hard go of it, for every night the oaks and pines resonated with his lament for the silent death upon the face of the world. he and i endured the long night, each safe and warm in cabin and den, sleepily content no matter the fury outside.
then, as is the course of all natural things, the bawling tempests and deathly storms howled themselves out. life began anew. the meadow's flowers burst exuberantly from the ground, the stream threw off winters' grip, the trees pushed leaves out every twig until they seemed impossibly green. i exhumed my seeds from a long unused pack, and planted a garden of tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, carrots, and potatoes. times were lean until the earth brought forth it's first fruit, and after, the rich soil's blessing sustained me.
i added to my home, fashioning a table, two chairs, and a mantle from green woods, bending and shaping with axe and knife until they were comfortable. a lean-to rested, newly built, against the eastern wall of the cabin, filled to overflowing with wood hard fought and won from the dead trees deep inside the forest. i dug a root cellar, and filled it with preserved meat, dried fish, and the fruits of the garden. steps fashioned from rounded stones and bound together with clay i planted before my door. i rendered the fat of three peccaries into soap, combining the drippings with lye steeped from the ashes of my fires. at long last, i was cleansed.
working quietly, almost reverently, a bed next i made, from oak and woven rushes. the oak was a sturdy frame where i wove the rushes, laying my mattress made of shredded cattails. the downy softness of them sewn inside the last of my canvas, i once again slumbered in comfort. the wolf and i sang each other to sleep.
the seasons (and i was aware of them again, for the moon was no longer an adequate keeper of time) changed again, and i noted a welcome chill, the sharp teeth in the air, the silvery hoar of frost on the meadow. the summer was fleeting, so full of improvements, so wrought with labor and sweat and tears of frustration and eventual triumph. it fled and was gone before i even noticed it leaving. fall was short, the trees releasing their leaves that fell in into piles of gold and amber and yellow glory littering the forest's floor.
the first snow fell soon after, dusting my valley in great sheets of aching white. one bitter cold day, as the light faded in deference to impending night, i sat eating my evening meal, preparing for winter's grip, readying myself for the lonesome sojourn ahead.
astonishingly, there came a knock, afraid to be heard, that brushed softly my door. within the space of a single heartbeat, i felt elation, knew fear, cried for sadness, laughed for joy, fought back pain, befriended terror and embraced happiness. there came a pounding from my chest, as the elk's heart beat madly, chasing the wind in his primeval heaven. we raced and lept through vale and glen, and in the vaults of my soul, i saw his last smile, and understood his gift at last. my mind screamed not to answer that subtle salutation, but the deeper, more powerful things i had consumed with my brother's heart forced my hand.
i rushed to open the latch, and wrestled frantically with it, for it was stuck. fearing that no-one would be there, finally i flung wide the entry, and beheld there a traveler more weary than ever i had seen before. a worn and tired sojourner, who's trail was far longer and much steeper than ever mine was. the tattered, stained clothes, the bruised hands, a dirty face, and broken posture bore screaming testimony to pain so unbearable it tore me in places only my soul knew existed.
wonderingly, fearfully, the wanderer's eyes met mine, and the questions there remained unasked, unsaid. there was no conflict in me, as i took the proffered hand, led the sufferer inside, and bade "please, sit at my table. fill yourself with fruits from my garden, from the sacrifices of days gone by. warm yourself in the light and heat of my fire". then kneeling, i tenderly bathed the feet of my guest, soothing as best i could the wounds i found there. words were unspoken, unnecessary, and inadequate, as tears fell from our eyes.
outside, my friend the wolf howled his joyous approval. for the first time, another voice rose in perfect harmony with his, adding her blessed soprano to his contralto, and my heart sang inside me."
10.10.04
. . . are you out there
looking at the stars? i am. i can't stop thinking of you and what could have been, love...
10.10.04
. . . pas part duex - comments
okay, so they work. i know why they didn't - sorry, but sometimes i'm stupid. it was a silly mistake, but it's fixed.
some folks want the capability to edit or delete. well, the software i'm using doesn't do that, so be careful how you spell things. maybe in a future release, but i don't know perl, and i don't care enough to figure it out.
so, have fun. be clean. play nice.
i've got a massive, splitting headache caused by too much benadryl. i think i'll go lay down.
some folks want the capability to edit or delete. well, the software i'm using doesn't do that, so be careful how you spell things. maybe in a future release, but i don't know perl, and i don't care enough to figure it out.
so, have fun. be clean. play nice.
i've got a massive, splitting headache caused by too much benadryl. i think i'll go lay down.
10.10.04
. . . mario gets married
so, little mariano got himself hitched. he found himself a wonderful girl who treats him like a king, and he treats her like a queen. sandra and mario exchanged vows at around 4 pm yesterday.
i cried like a little girl. i wanted that to be me. i so wanted it to be me.
anyhow, the whole thing was strange - the audience was about half and half english versus non-english speaking. i've never wanted to speak spanish so much in all my life. i heard that sandra's parents don't speak a word of english...every time someone said something, it was translated, often by the speaker. mario looked lost - he doesn't speak spanish.
he did me the honor of asking me to toast him and his bride - and i managed to not flub it up too much. handing the mike to someone so they could translate what i aws saying really messed with my flow. it went well, though, and i got through it and they were pleased.
the most important thing, i told him, as to never ever go to bed angry. then various and sundry platitudes...say i love you, say you're sorry even if you don't think you should be.
remember that the seed you planted when you began to date has born it's first fruit this day. nurture and care for your love like a tree in a sacred grove, and it will continue to grow and shade your lives with it's leaves, and your children will be the fruit of it's boughs.
mario, sandra, may you have all the joys that the world and this life can bring you. good luck and godspeed as you honeymoon on a cruise to mexico.
and sandra, stop feeding him so much.
i cried like a little girl. i wanted that to be me. i so wanted it to be me.
anyhow, the whole thing was strange - the audience was about half and half english versus non-english speaking. i've never wanted to speak spanish so much in all my life. i heard that sandra's parents don't speak a word of english...every time someone said something, it was translated, often by the speaker. mario looked lost - he doesn't speak spanish.
he did me the honor of asking me to toast him and his bride - and i managed to not flub it up too much. handing the mike to someone so they could translate what i aws saying really messed with my flow. it went well, though, and i got through it and they were pleased.
the most important thing, i told him, as to never ever go to bed angry. then various and sundry platitudes...say i love you, say you're sorry even if you don't think you should be.
remember that the seed you planted when you began to date has born it's first fruit this day. nurture and care for your love like a tree in a sacred grove, and it will continue to grow and shade your lives with it's leaves, and your children will be the fruit of it's boughs.
mario, sandra, may you have all the joys that the world and this life can bring you. good luck and godspeed as you honeymoon on a cruise to mexico.
and sandra, stop feeding him so much.
10.8.04
. . . psa: comment system
at the behest of various folks near and far, but most annoyingly jason b., there is now a fully functional perl-based comment system in place for the site.
you'll have to register, provide blood and stool samples, etc., and play play nice, but enjoy. i've always wondered if anybody actually reads this thing...
10.8.04
. . . got something to say?
then do it - comments are now open for business - look for the format and other things to change with no warning...
10.8.04
. . . the empire that was
i'm wasting some quality time with my best buddy the intarweb, and come across this page. sad, really - it's a color (!) pictorial of pre-revolution russia, from 1909-1915, and shows the cultural, architectural and ethnic diversity of the russian empire before the bolsheviks destroyed it.
sounds familiar.
10.7.04
. . . the x-prize
okay, so if you're living under a freaking rock, you may not ave heard of the ansari x-prize.
basically, it's a 10 million purse for repeatable, manned sub-orbital space flight. and burt rutan's (aerospace engineer extraordinaire) team at scaled composites has won it with space ship one.
do you have any idea what this means? it took billions of dollars, the cold war, and nasa to do it the first go-round. absolutely amazing.
inspiring. there might be hope for us yet.
10.7.04
. . . eat your cake
so, cake has released a new record. even my little sister kelly loves cake...
and it kicks ass. go buy it. now! macht schnell!
and it kicks ass. go buy it. now! macht schnell!
10.7.04
. . . i hate my life
typical. i swear that i cannot win, no matter how hard i try...
when i went home and tried to register for half life 2, i got the following e-mail:
"Dear Steam user (account name: xxxxx),
This is an automated message generated by Steam account administration.
Your ATI Bundle CD-Key (the number printed on the CD case which you were asked to type in after installing the game) has been found to be invalid.
The CD-Key you entered is: 12345-abcde-54321-edcba-12345
You will not be able to play ATI Bundle unless you provide a valid CD-Key.
To provide a valid CD-Key, double-click on the name of the game in Steam's "Games" window and then follow the given instructions.
For further help or product support, please visit
http://www.steampowered.com
Signed,
The Steam Support Team
To contact us, email support@steampowered.com"
do you have any idea how irritated i am at this very moment? no? go poke your own eye out and try to shove it back into your gaping ocular cavity with a red hot pair of pliers. then you might grasp it...
when i went home and tried to register for half life 2, i got the following e-mail:
"Dear Steam user (account name: xxxxx),
This is an automated message generated by Steam account administration.
Your ATI Bundle CD-Key (the number printed on the CD case which you were asked to type in after installing the game) has been found to be invalid.
The CD-Key you entered is: 12345-abcde-54321-edcba-12345
You will not be able to play ATI Bundle unless you provide a valid CD-Key.
To provide a valid CD-Key, double-click on the name of the game in Steam's "Games" window and then follow the given instructions.
For further help or product support, please visit
http://www.steampowered.com
Signed,
The Steam Support Team
To contact us, email support@steampowered.com"
do you have any idea how irritated i am at this very moment? no? go poke your own eye out and try to shove it back into your gaping ocular cavity with a red hot pair of pliers. then you might grasp it...
10.7.04
. . . never a "borrower" be
taking without asking is stealing. imagine if you will someone who comes into your space, picks up something that belongs to you, conceals it (poorly) and then, when confronted, doesn't even say "sorry". what you do get is "well, you have two".
so freaking what if i have ten thousand? its not the thing, its the principle behind it! ask anyone, i'm the kind of guy that if you ask will give you the very shirt from my back!
it's only a pen. but the principle remains, and as far as i'm concerned, that's all that really matters.
so freaking what if i have ten thousand? its not the thing, its the principle behind it! ask anyone, i'm the kind of guy that if you ask will give you the very shirt from my back!
it's only a pen. but the principle remains, and as far as i'm concerned, that's all that really matters.
10.7.04
. . . half life
today is the day - long awaited - that half life 2 arrives via steam, a broadband content delivery system developed by valve software.
this is the game to end all games. i was very disappointed by doom3. before you call me heretic, understand that while completely and totally visually stunning, the game was the same old same old run and shoot "kill the monsters and then kill the big boss monster" formula.
it did scare the crap out of me, though. the money wasn't wasted.
but half life 2 represents a quantum leap in interaction inside the game. i managed to score a copy of the "leaked" review that will appear in the november issue of pc gamer.
check it out. i'm beyond excited. i cannot wait to be as amazed as the reviewer was...
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