An Echo from "Adaptation"

Every time I sit down to write, Charlie Kaufman's voice-over echos in my mind:

"How to start? I'm hungry. I should get coffee. Coffee would help me think. Maybe I should write something first, then reward myself with coffee. Coffee and a muffin. So I need to establish the themes. Maybe a banana nut. That's a good muffin."

The movie is wholly brilliant, obviously. I recommend that you watch it so that we can talk about it. That'd be fun.

Arrested Sonic Boom Development

I just had a dream that GOB, in an episode of Arrested Development, was sent to prison because the cops found him carrying what looked like needles, but were actually Ron Popeil 'flavor injectors' (tm?). GOB attempted to escape from prison . . . in a sonic jet, and was chased by the guards in a police jet. It seems that GOB's jet was better, and should have been able to get away by flying faster than the speed of sound. Due to some satirical hijinks, the sound barrier would not break, and GOB couldn't get away.

Public Transit Writing

This is an excerpt from the Rider's Handbook for Columbia, MO, public transit, re: buses.
I would like to note how specifically the handbook describes what we "Riders" would otherwise call 'waving,' and how definitively effective it is to look at the bus when attempting to stop it bus. One must be able and willing to communicate desire with the driver, who is female, according to the manual. I am not certain what to do under the condition that the driver is male.

The last line also makes me wonder what other conclusions the driver might come up with?

-That's a hooker.
-That guys's homeless.
-That corner must have a nice view.
-That's a gargoyle, and this acid just kicked in.
-That guy is waiting for me make another trip around the city and then pick him up.
-He's there because he isn't anywhere else.
-He just crossed the street, and now wonders if that was a good move.
-He just wants to see if he recognizes anyone on the bus.
-It's a good place to pee.

All-Powerful-Knowing-and-Good Election

Click the picture to see The Telegraph's article "Congressman says God will save us from climate change"

The Election
Position: The First Mover
Term: Beginning of Time -> Infinity
Election to Be Held: 1050ad; any local community center.
Original Petition and Argument for Position: As the position for First Mover may be held at a date before the creation of the universe, and as every mover must have been moved by another mover (a posteriori; laws of physics), an election must be held so that the First Mover did not just, you know, come out of nowhere.

Candidates
Hadrow P. Illstein: vegabond from southern Africa. He boiled water as a health service for villages, but the villagers always chased him away after burning the roofs of their mouths. He needs this job so that he can have a sense of duty for which he can't be exiled--as he says "I can't get kicked out the universe, I don't think. Anyway, I need this job."
God: vegabond from the fifth dimension or higher. Responsible for institutions such as 'religion,' the Jewish Community Center, and the Young Men's Christian Association. He has received some criticism for this, but as he says "You know, some people appreciate what I have done for the community. I just hope enough of them vote for me. I kid! I'm exciting for this opportunity, but Hadrow has a lot of strengths. We'll just have to wait and see. Oh, also, not only will I always be, but I also always have been, so I am a little better qualified to be President of Zimbabwe . . . oh this is for First Mover? I must have signed up at the wrong booth."

UPDATE
It all went by the wayside when Hadrow P. Illstein dropped out of the election, securing God's position as the First Mover. It's funny how that all worked out.

IQ! Gesundheit!

Everyone knows that no one knows everything. Nevertheless, some people still believe they do because they always win Trivial Pursuit. Scientists solved this problem by developing the test for a person's Intelligence Quotient, which allows these annoying braggarts to know how dumb they are.

The following is a real IQ test that I am going to make up as I write this blog. Go ahead and test your intelligence. You might learn something that you already knew!

How to take this test:
Take as much time as you need. On a separate piece of paper write down your answers and when you have completed the test, bring that paper to my desk. Good luck finding my desk. You will not be penalized for attempting an answer, unless you get it wrong. If you don't know where to find my desk, and someone asks you how you did on this IQ test, you are going to have to make up your score. I recommend asking him "What do you think I got?" and then adding about 10 points to whatever he says, so it is believable and you seem smarter than he thinks. Or just say 115. That's safe.

Good Luck!

Time Travel Writing

Sometimes, in good conversation, we are prompted with an opportunity to answer a hypothetically but very interesting and thought provoking question: "If you could go back in time, what would you do?"

This hypothetical maintains not a fallacy of logic, but a severe improbability. If you COULD go back in time, you probably don't get to choose HOW far back you get to go. Imagine this:

Father Time shows up and says: Hey bud! You are the only human being that gets the chance to go back in time! Are you going to take it?

Adam: Heck yes! I want to go back to junior year and kiss Ashley Ashleyson when I had the chance!

Father Time: Yeah, yeah. That be cool... Well, the thing is, I was doing some inventory and I have like eleven extra minutes, and I was like, 'Hey, ive always liked Adam, maybe he could use them, so... If you want to go back in time eleven minutes, now is your chance.

Adam: Can I save them and go back eleven minutes when I need to? In case I get in a car accident or something?

Father Time: Well, no not really. You see, what i have is a Time Surplus, so if I don't use these minutes now then God gives me eleven less minutes next quarter. Listen, if you don't want them I will probably give them to the British Prime Minister. After all, he is in an ambulance because he electrucuted himself.

Adam: Tony Blair?

FT: No. A new guy.

Adam: So you are telling me I can either save the prime ministers life, or go back in time eleven minutes?

FT: Uhhh, yeah. Well, we have been talking for a little longer than I expected. You can go back in time seven minutes.

Adam [looking at his plate]: That was a good grilled cheese sandwich...

Picks from 751 magazine

[Here are a few of my favorite works published in the 2nd issue of 751 magazine.]

THE poetry of Ally Harris provides a two-way lens that is first critical of one's surroundings, and then seems to upturn the underbelly of the criticism. Her writing is not bold for the sake of being bold. The creative language of Harris sparks emotion and curiosity, which elicits rereads, which begets more emotion and curiosity. I couldn't escape how I felt after one read, and I caught myself revisiting and rereading a couple weeks later.

TWO flash fictions written by Tim Coe are crafted with a soft satirical tone that is familiar but always worthy of a certain indulgence. The first story, "Revenge, a Little," pokes an omniscient finger at how we might naturally react to an unnatural suspended sun; I am always attracted to the stories that change the rules of our universe in order to explore our conditional nature and response. If Coe's second story, "Today In A Back Alley A Man," were a human being, then I would like to become friends with it [or him]. Coe capsulizes the honest plight of conscious thought into short story form; he does so in an environment when the similarities of people in very different stages of life are exposed.

LASTLY, Micheal Jay Tucker's narrative essay "Ghost. Dog. Virgin." was uniquely noteworthy. For me, nothing compares to the literary intimacy of exploring the memories that never submerge into the subconscious and follow a person around his whole life. Tucker phrases it much better than I have. And he incorporates a bit of wisdom within his creativity as he shares with the reader an example of such an exploration.

The Autoblog (part two: the first update)

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Reader,

Today is [Satur, Dec, 09]. I am fine.
I initiated my daily routines as usual. Then, my [Recycle Bin] didn't function according to plan, and [corrupted data] got everywhere! If my friends, family, possible significant other, possible children, or acquaintances that happen to lodge in my home for the night due to unusual circumstances had seen it, it would have been very embarrassing! Later, on my drive to work, I saw a [>dictonaryEng.exe cannot find dictionaryEng.dat file] on the [!This program has performed a serious error and must terminate immediately!]

{Rebooting with factory defaults...}
Initializing...

> Thank you for reading BrianstheAwsum1Autoblog 1998.
> Powered by JandBProgramming
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> Reader,
>
> Today is [Mon, Jan, 98]. I am fine. I initiated my daily routines as usual. Then, my [jJim s a fruit!] didn't function according to plan, and [jims fatt mom!!1!] got everywhere!
> !file note found!
> Later, on my drive to work, I saw a [Brian, I swear if you don't take this project seriously it'll be forever before we finish. I don't want to live in my parents basement for another decade! Moreover, my Mom, Frank and I don't want you living in our basement for another ten years. I swear if I even know you in 2008 I can't imagine what I'll [>Critical update available! Please download {LZUser1.2} immediately!]] road! Ill have doubles developed so i can mail you the pics!
>
> Thanks for reading!
> [terminating sequence]
>
> Thank you for using JimisReallytheAwesomeOneAutoblog 1998

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Technology, My Enemy [Part 1]

I often battle with technology. There are many times that we experience trails with everyday devices. The dysfunction of our phones, computers and garage door openers prevent us from accomplishing everyday tasks such as making calls, writing papers, and opening other people's garage doors. We complain about everyday struggles, but I think we should pay attention to the long term effects, which I believe to be unique to us all. Here are five ways technology is ruining my life:

1] I am uncertain about how to empty or otherwise operate recycle bins in real life. I have considered switching to wastebaskets, but I don't have much experience with their operating system.

2] I share with the world my innermost reflections about myself by means of an electronic journal known as a 'blog.' It is slowly eating away at my sense of identity as I conform with the masses. I have nightmare visions of the future. And sometimes I have nice dreams. I think that is all diet-related.

3] I missed the 'emoticon' acquisition phase of learning. So when I get a text that says Prty ths wknd <@:P I don't understand why a party this weekend would be less than at-colon-pee. At-colon-pee sounds < a party. I also think it is a real possibility that the less-than sign was a typo, and the party this weekend is At Colon P's, which is cool. Colin Powell must be a fan of my blog.

4] I am no longer right-handed or left-handed; it has been so long since I have hand-written that I am now ambisinistrous, the opposite of ambidextrous. While 'ambisinistrous' is obviously the most accurate word for my condition, it is not a part of most people's vernacular. Instead, they will try to say that I am uncoordinated and bad at basketball. They also make fun of me for using words like 'ambisinistrous' and will proceed to call me geeky and, for some reason, disparaging. Those jerks.

5] The stability of my friendships is at risk. I can't even imagine the consequences of butt-dialing someone on a gassy day.

Still, I have been advised to "keep my friends close and my enemies closer." So I hope you understand why I would rather sit at home on google.com searching for 'small talk' than actually have some with you.

The Refulgent Effulgence of Writer's Block

     Today is one of those days when I don't feel like writing on my blog very much, but then I start rambling like this and end up writing a ton.

Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nothing. Blog. Nada. (2 of 3)

     Babble: ballyhoo: balderdash: baloney: babel: politics.
     A fat suit is a suit an average-sized person wears to appear fat. A fat suit is not a suit for a fat person. If a fat person were to try to put on a fat suit he or she would probably end up having a bad day.
     There is only one difference between men and women.
     Studies show that taking a shower and changing your shirt are equally as effective. I performed the studies. No animals were harmed. Or even used in the studies. What kind of scientist do you take me for?
     Doctors who recommend two glasses of wine every day for a person's health are commonly perceived as good doctors.
       There is an old children's rhyme that goes "Eeny meeny miny moe / catch a tiger by his toe / If he hollers let him go ..." I just want to say that catching a tiger by its toe is ridiculously challenging, I am not just going to let it go because it complains a little bit. My point is that the government probably writes nursery rhymes, ergo we shouldn't trust the government, and that is why I don't like paying taxes.
     Also, in Britain, it is common for the children to say 'chicken' instead of 'tiger.' Wimps.

For Writers' Consideration

     I have been subscribed to "Word of the Day" messaging systems for a few years now, but they have turned out to be less helpful than I had hoped.
     I originally signed up for these services because something I discovered a long time ago: words can beget stories. Last night I read about a hundred different excerpts from Webster's Collegiate Dictionary. Words can have such interesting uses, histories, or exclusive environments, that in trying to attempt to write a sentence with one such word I end up thinking up an entire setting, character, or even a scene.
     Reading the dictionary seems like an odd move, and I probably don't have the patience to do it on a regular basis. But, I am going to search my dictionary for an interesting word and try and write a story for it. Ideally a flash fiction; something I can post here. I challenge the rest of you to do the same.

eLoneliness

Technology has taken a step backward today. KevInternet is dead.

I tried to go to my favorite website, hatp:(\/)wwk.Kev.Kers
to check my KEVmail, but to my horror, KevInternet had been abandoned. It is now just a ghost internet, with xhtml tumbleweed trundling across my KevExplorer.

Yes, for those of you who are unfamiliar with KevInternet-kev pages used xhtml. But they only used xhtml. None of those wussy .html pages with clunky Java applications.

It was a better internet, KevInternet was.

Of course, the Kev browsers all allowed "pop-ups." But no advertisements existed in KevInternet! There existed only two types of pop-ups. The first consisted of friendly photos of children playing in Kevin's neighborhood with friendly captions such as "Welcome to KevInternet! Enjoy your free service! BWAHAHA!!!" or "Kevin hopes you are having a great day! Check out this link I found on MeTube!"

The only other pop-ups were daily mandatory 400 question multiple choice quizzes about the users satisfaction with KevInternet, where the user can answer with "Very Satisfied," "My opinion doesn't matter because Kevin simply is pleased by the accumulation of information and I should respect his desires," or "It's a little buggy," to each question.



Signs that KevInternet had been evacuated were abundant. The popular search engine, sextillion.kev, would only surface three results, no matter what keyword I selected. The first was myspacedeliverance.kev the most popular social-network-addiction-rehabilitation kevsite to ever to exist. The link was dead. The second result was a sole klog [kev-log], with posts so bleak, torrid, and desperate for love, pity, and laundry money that I dare not transpose them here. The last was MeTube.kev, a website devoted to videos of Kevin himself. It was still up and running.


I spent some time on MeTube.kev. I watched the videos of Kevin playing with turtles, chasing around children in his neighborhood, doing laundry, watching videos of himself on MeTube, and laughing out of sheer joy from reading the results of daily quizzes, which used to be such an uplifting sight.

While I was browsing, a new video was posted by Kevin. It was him playing a guitar and singing a song. The video was entitled "I am dead." The lyrics were as follows:

I am dead!
Well, not really me!
My Internet has been defeated
by http.

I could express my emotions
with one lone solemn chord
but a chord I don't know how to fret!

Now I see the irony
of my undoing:
I must look it up on the internet!

Once I heard the song, I knew it was officially over for KevInternet, so I must slink back into the metallic and off-putting social machinery of the Internet, leaving behind my sacred, soft, sensual alliteration bearing social and intellectual tapestry of KevInternet.

Farewell, avuncular network. You have taught me much about the values and follies of electronic narcissism. And Kevin, if you need to contact me, all you have to do is power down, log-off, or, at the least, go on stand-by.

Dreamblog

It was my wedding day, and I was running up a hill toward the soccer/football field. The ceremony was about to take place on the field, but there was one small problem. So, I ran up to the coach and said, "Is it bad if I am wearing jeans for this?"

That is when my dream [what I hope is actually a premonition] ended.

WARNING: Science Jokes Abundant

Extremely scientific but also very humorous. Normal people beware.

"10 Ways to destroy the Earth"

http://www.livescience.com/technology/destroy_earth_mp.html

Blog-none (1 of 3)

Usually, before writing a blog (or writing anything), I like to have at least one topic in mind before I begin writing. Last night, I was criticized for maintaining this mentality. I was told that that is the wrong approach. So here it is, look at me now, internet! I'm going to write about nothing.

For the record, writing about nothing is tricky. I have to avoid absolutely all topics. I can't write about President Obama's health care plan. I'm unable to mention the progress of the repairs on the Large Hadron Collider at CERN. I have to completely refrain from griping about my somnambulant professors.

Even fiction characters must be avoided: hobbits; HAL, the space computer; Ender's age defying mentor, Mazer Rackham; and Gary Busey. Consider the fictional places permanently omitted: Narnia; Pangaea; The North Pole, pergatory, the dark side of the moon, and Atlanta. And music! No more writing about my favorite albums, like "Dark side of the Moon" and "Gary Busey."

Here, I must break. It seems I'm not yet ready to write about nothing. Perhaps blogging is not meant to be an act of Nothing-Writing, but a process, pursuit, or maybe even a quest to gain the wisdom necessary to think without thought; entertain superfluous postulates on the non-existant; to weblog with out we, without log, and simply b.

Tom Franken's FrankenBlog

The FrankenBlog was a blog I wrote a while back in the persona of Tom Franken [you can find his real blog here: http://excerptsfromthelifeofaliontamer.blogspot.com/ ]. That blog has since been retired [due to reasons I'd rather not digress upon]. The following is one post from that blog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yo Hablo! Soy Tom!

Somedays I dream about becoming a famous singer/songwriter.
And then I wake up and think:
1) That was a stupid dream.
2) Did I just wake up in the middle of Spanish class? How did I get here?

Later in the day I will realize that I have Math in the same classroom as Spanish. So I must have fallen asleep during my Math lesson in the morning, missed History, English, and Lunch, and woken during my Spanish lesson later that afternoon.

This will occur a couple times a week, so normally I am used to it. But today was different. As I left Spanish class to go find something to eat, I noticed someone. Her name was Jessica, and she's been in my school for a few years, but today she looked different. Maybe she had died her hair blond, or maybe it was the way she crossed her legs while sitting in her desk, still listening to the teacher. I thought to myself she might even stay for the whole class period. I was smitten.

As I walked away from the classroom, I could still hear her soft, sultry voice echoing the halls in some language i couldn't understand. I wondered what she might be saying. But I guess I will never know.

Feeling very peculiar, I decided to put my feelings into lyrical form. This is how my song began:

Hey girl, sitting across the room from me.
I didn't expect to see you here, today.
Maybe I should tell you my name.

That is as far as I got with the song. I couldn't decide what to do next. I could tell her my name in the next line, but "It's Tom" isn't very poetic. Besides, she probably already knows my name. I've talked to her dozens of times. I mean, I see her there all the time. And I never call her "girl." That would be kind of degrading. And weird.

Upon all of those realizations, I rewrote the lyrics to be more appropriate:

Hi Jess.
Can your Mom drive me home from school?
I lost my keys again.

At the end of the day I decided not to sing those beautiful words to her, but just spoke them in a conversational tone. I really did need a ride home, and I didn't want to creep her out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Autoblog

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Reader,

Today is [Thurs, Aug, 09]. I am fine.
I initiated my daily routines as usual. Then, my [toaster] didn't function according to plan, and [>config Internal Error ew1q7.dll] got everywhere! If my friends, family, possible significant other, possible children, or acquaintances that happen to lodge in my home for the night due to unusual circumstances had seen it, it would have been very embarrassing! Later, on my drive to work, I saw a [>config Internal Error ew1q7.dll unresolved >Reinstalling dictonaryEng.exe... >initiating:aardvard/allocate/bagel/such/yelp Warning! Dictionary incomplete! Please download update {LZUser1.1} ] on the road! I'll post the pics soon!

Thanks for reading! Good-b[>terminating sequence...]

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I ran into Walt Whitman today

I ran into Walt Whitman today. I asked him how he was, and he said, "The past last two days have been faultless in the sun. My health is somewhat better, and my spirit at peace. (Yet the anniversary of the saddest loss and sorrow of my life is close at hand.) But time and time again you gotta tell a bitch whats up, and the thug life ain't a dream to be lived for real." And as he was running away he yelled, "Nothin's gonna stop me forever!" I didn't understand why he ran, he had left the keys to his H3 in the foyer, and THAT's when I realized it wasn't Walt Whitman at all! I had been talking to a piece of bread covered in JIF peanut butter that someone had left out on the gazebo a couple of days ago (I think it was Walt).