An idea occurred to me the other day, I don't recall when. Somewhere in between thinking that gay bars have the best music, where else but Tucson would you find such a lovely bougainvillea'd courtyard at another bar, and happily finding another place that was showing kickboxing on a big screen, I think. So, on 4th Ave, basically.

Anyway. The thought was that I suddenly find the Ayurvedic school of thought in regards to nutrition a bit more believable on the following logic. Where before I found it mildly engaging as a kind of Indian take on the medieval humours, and with about as much truth to it, besides being much more complex and engaged it also more directly deals with the nature of what we ingest, going beyond just the body. In that (for a small example), by classifying edible things and their effects on the body according to astringent, bitter, etc, basically by their taste, one has a nutrition-guide that will work in the absence of scientific measurement or counting of calories, or that would, say, work in the wilderness with one under duress. So if there is truth to Ayurvedic principles (I've already been impressed by 'sattvic' ginger, and turmeric) I have new respect for the sages of old for putting together such a comprehensive system without empirical science as we know it.

Domino, with Kiera Knightley and Mickey Rourke. I think I watched a good, solid portion of this movie with my jaw dropped and my head cocked to the side. I'm still not sure whether that's a good thing or not, to be honest. In one sense, it's a lot of fun in that regard - the characters, violence, and crazy/unique cinematography (reminiscent of Man on Fire?) complement each other quite nicely, and as much as I rolled my eyes at the nunchuks at first, I took that back in the space of a moment when they were amazingly used in a logical way. And the soundtrack is completely psychotic. Another thing I'm not sure whether I liked or not. In a strange sense, I keep trying to find a connection to William Gibson's ideas of celebrity-status being a matter of achieving a critical-mass of attention, I'm positive this movie is an oblique commentary on it somehow.

Unfortunately, the narrative (which had already been chaotic and disjointed, but in a good way) completely trips and faceplants near the end. I'm not exactly sure when, but I went from engaged to mind-wandering-sleepy when the plot threads went from 'tangled' to 'knotted' and 'disjointed' became 'completely dislocated.' Something about getting to see the realy Domino Harvey made me smile, though.

Ok, here's my main argument as to why V for Vendetta isn't actually that liberal, after talking with Wyatt about it at 2am - the trick is, every 'liberal' jab or slant comes from a regime information source. And running off the 1984 parallel, in the aspect of extreme propaganda, all of that information given by the regime is at least not trustworthy if outright stated lies.....so the irony in the end is that the 'liberal' messages within the narrative come almost exclusively from the ultraconservative totalitarian regime. Now, does anyone have any thoughts on the morality of V's deception of Evie? That seems a fun, complicated, sticky issue to me.

First off, a new exercise! Haven't done that in a while. This one is courtesy of Mr. David (and the SHS wrestling team): sabercat pushups. Or is that sabrecat? Anyway. Beginning at the bottom of a pushup, body resting on the floor, start with just one push - up and then back down. Rest on the ground for ten or so seconds, then two pushups, etc, up through at least ten. Now, this is a very deceptive exercise. The trick is, you're not allowed to move your hands from the spot you placed them in at the very beginning - so even when you're resting on the ground, your muscles are actually slightly engaged as yet - basically, it's a pushup that will sneak up on you like a sneaky...uh, sabercat, and also a funny trick to play on someone, because ten pushups after all that "rest" should really not be that hard.

In other news, another good workout that sneaks up on you is combining forms into one long string. So while doing one kata or form with power might get you riled up a little, it's a nice exercise - both mentally and physically - to flow from one right to the next, though it can take a while if you string together enough of them. There's a little finagling to be done to make them fit together, but that's usually pretty easily done by just leaving off the mudras at beginning, though the end mudras often work out nicely. As an example, last night we worked out Wonsu, Anaku, Empi-sho, and Bassai-dai - or, Wukushodai, if you will. Our goal is to get up to Wukushochidaigodan. Trust me, that gibberish right there is hilarious if you've worked with all those katas. Of course, personally I enjoy the more poetic names for the katas that are hardly ever used, such as "swallow pivoting on beach" or "breaking the forest."

Dragons of a Fallen Sun, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. Ah, finally (working my way through these old Dragonlance novels) one that I quite enjoyed. Basically, the authors seemed to take what was already an expansive setting, and then gave it a similar treatment to what created that grandest of comic book epics, Age of Apocalypse. Everything is flipflopped around - but not as implausibly as a Superman-bizarro world - morality that was starkly clear is now grey and complicated, and though the world is darker (and even creepy at times), the brightness in it is that much more surprising and nice. Which is ironically closer to the end of their first trilogy than any of the subsequent novels up till this point.

Furthermore, the authors took the interesting fantasy tact of getting rid of most overtly 'magic' elements, which in my opinion consistently makes fantasy more interesting in a proportional manner by drawing the focus to the characters and plot. Ironically, however, there is not that much character development for a novel this size, but the setting makes up for it in a Southwest lit. kind of way.

Waiting..., with Ryan Reynolds and Justin Long. I'm quite surprised this movie pulled off an R rating. Vulgar, dirty, and vulgar. But quite funny, especially so if you have experience with restaurants in regards to how the movie is set. There's a good many laughs, but the almost-depth in regards to the apparent main character confused me, I wasn't sure if it was there to have actual depth or give the veneer of it - and if the latter, why bother? But, it was interesting overall nonetheless.

Shu shan zheng zhuan ('Zu Warrors'), with Ekin Cheng and Louis Koo. I can't give a real opinion on this, in all fairness, because we meandered out of the room and promptly forgot that we'd left it on a quarter of the way through. And I was the only one half-paying attention anyway. Why that reaction, one might be tempted to ask? It's not as if the movie was horrendous. It had really interesting imagery. It was just...imagery, however interesting, isn't enough to carry a complete lack of character depth and plot to the point of making those images banal. I find it odd that I would have given this movie more of a chance had it been a well-drawn cartoon, for the amount of energy that seems to have gone into making it quality live-action.

A couple articles on weight/eating/health and yoga, as a tangent to the Workout Challenge

Possibly thought-provoking quote of the day: "Did you know you run faster when you visualize yourself being chased?"

-and I finally did it, I sprang for an upgraded flickr account...which I begin to gather might induce me to taking even more photos, so that's cool

Still needs a title, still first draft-y like usual
---
It seems funny that a few words, a note
can raise such ire inside.
Perhaps I should call it a poem in prose
to justify this emotion it wakes,
this heat that sings in my veins
and singes the skin of my face,
lighting it crimson from the inside.

Or is it the content, the meaning
of these verbal symbols?
Am I caught in their semantic web,
the threads of connotation too fine to see?
I wonder whether this red disquiet
is a venom of imagined words between words,
whether I am already cocooned
and dreaming poison dreams.

The author, I insist to myself-
it is the writer of this text,
the one who set the message
to paper in ink of arsenic and rust,
who tattooed it in the rapid rhythm of my heart.

But even as my blood burns to sing
in brimstone harangue, even as my eyes narrow
at the brightness of my fiery, righteous response
to the affront of words, meaning, and intent,
I stumble into that quiet moment,
where flame becomes ember.

My anger is my own.
Though I stalk and circle, blade in hand,
I realize there is no handle –
the blood dripping from its edge
flows from the hand that grips it.

My choice is my own.
I sheathe the sword,
still slick with crimson emotion
and wait

for stillness.
---
(I feel I should say that this isn't actually based on any real letter at all, just to keep anyone from glancing at their 'sent' folder or whatever)

A kind of silly thought from an article on backbends: we never really see our backs. Well, we see reflections in mirrors, perhaps, or photos, but generally there really isn't a way to actually directly look at some parts of our backs. Perhaps there isn't any significance to that except in a zen eye-trying-to-see-itself way, but there it is.

-from a novel:
"What did your hair look like, Mina?" he asked.
"It was the color of flame, long and thick. The strands would curl around your finger and tug at your heart like a baby's hand."

Also, picpics; I haven't yet decided whether to spring for a full account to put some of the carshow pictures up, though...(donations welcome, of course)

Word of the Day: aubade - a song or poem greeting the dawn; also, a composition suggestive of morning

One of those interesting thoughts I came across in that activity I seem to spend most of my day doing (reading): paraphrased from poor memory, we are never deceived - we only deceive ourselves. So I start thinking, deceit? Then I think about a person cheating on spouse - aren't they deceiving their spouse? Or: is the spouse willfully being blind to to the truth, however subtle the cues (perhaps not even the cheating, but that the relationship is failing and engendering the wandering eye).

But, doesn't a conman deceive their mark - isn't that the whole point of it being defined as a scam as such? Buuut, there's that subtle layer, where one might wonder whether the mark is just not being observant or incisive enough to sense the deceit in the other person's body language or whatever other subtle hint, maybe because in some way they want to trust that person (like with the cheater) or, say, a person complaining of being seduced into a one night stand was deceiving their self, and let themselves be "tricked" because they really did want the guilt-free night (the rationalization being icing on the cake)?

In completely other news, I got to go to an Irish music jam session last night. There was a flock of fiddles (or a gaggle? a pod, perhaps?), a couple guitars, a mini-guitar of some kind, an Irish drum of dazzlingly simple design for what it was capable of, and this strange trapezoidal instrument with combined/braided strings that had a lovely sound, though I know not the name of it. Tangential to all that, besides being reminded of how toe-tappingly good Irish music generally is, I was reminded of a conversation I had on the weekend where I explained that one thing that really attracts me to a girl is admiring her for something.

Case in point here being said drummer, a friend whom I already respected for her sharp intelligence and was already attracted to her big pretty eyes. When I watched her drumming and realized not only her skill but her enjoyment of it and of learning on the fly, I got that odd combined feeling of impressed/attracted, each feeling linked to the other, and had to restrain myself from staring at her all night. I'm not really sure what comment I'm making with that, maybe just complimenting the drummer if nothing else, but there it is.

I think the best part is how she completely dominates her opponent in the end (watch for the beautifully timed shin to his inner right thigh)

(as per the usual, not entirely refined yet)

The Cold Season

I loathed each winter.
The sun's daily fall into ash.
The wan rain that barely-
The cold that ached in my bones
before I even woke.

Until I found you -
a brush of color,
a drop of autumn ember
in that pale season.

Oh, we were both still chilled.
(it was still winter)
It was not warmth you lent me-
(though we shared what we could)

Rather,
You gifted me with new eyes,
to caress the air,
its subtle noncolor of ice.

Your scent woke me
to the colors that were,
the ghosts of tree's sunsets
that lingered in wintry grey and blue.

In your voice I heard
the quiet timbre of frost
bearing itself into existence.

Where my soul had contracted
before in fear of the constricting
pain of cold, it began to wake
to the bracing vitality
I had once hid myself from.

In your lips, I tasted snow-white honey.
In your arms, in the long nights
of that cold season, I found winter.

Standing, waiting for confusion to be cleared in the sales office, and looking forward to the blessed feeling that will probably follow yoga this afternoon, I was reminded of a little thing. The teacher I've been going to lately has a penchant for one-leg balances, and while she doesn't particularly emphasize it I've read that the slightest bit of expanding of the bottom of one's foot can help massively with balance, by virtue of surface area involved versus what's loaded/balanced upon it. For example, by spreading your toes, or consciously rocking till weight is distributed equally amongst the edges of your foot.

The trick is, this really only seems to work well when bare-footed; with any kind of shoe or sandal on, the surface area in question becomes that of the shoe (or point of a heel, I suppose), and one can't very well spread plastic or leather. But I've noted it does work very well for augmenting sheer endurance (less energy spent wobbling to keep balance) when doing deep stance training or just standing and listening to lectures in martial arts, or not falling over in yoga. Though I haven't figured out quite how to integrate it into an on-the-fly movement like kicking, except by ingrained muscle memory.

Connie's neologism of the day: complinsult - kind of a "thanks...I think" thing, and kind of a compliment-without-the-follow-through that's harder to explain

the sales manager's secondary neologism of the day: whatsofuckinever - I'm just having fun trying to parse out what it might mean

Word of the Day: awry - away from the correct or expected course (just because it's a funny word, especially so if you've read any Dan Abnett novels - you'll probably laugh whenever you hear someone use it in real life)

Weekend! With an almost literal complete lack of sleep for almost every single person I ran into, for the thirty-six hours or so in question! Congratulations for Scott, for second place in the GM class at this year's NOPI! We did re-learn that though it might be chilly and windy, however, that you'll still get burnt after spending literally every daylight hour in the sun. In other news, that was probably the least healthy eating-wise day I've had in a long while - chicken fingers, a huge BBQ tri-tip sammich, a ginormous hot dog, mall food court Chinese food, and a beer. Awesome. Also, got some ideas from a rocking French-Canadian Jewish former pro-snowboarder that was parked next to us for modifying my Eclipse in an affordable manner, so news on that might be forthcoming (pending me figuring out how much money I have left after the thousands of dollars I've been spending and am going to be spending for a the next few months).

V for Vendetta, with Natalie Portman and Hugo Weaving. I enjoyed this movie a great deal, as much as I was leary of the political slanting. But the trick is, as much as it seems it could be termed a 'political movie,' at the same time that was just understated enough that it could quite well be read as a near-future 1984 take that just happened to use appropriate present day references. I loved the dialogue and its poeticism, and finally warmed up to the idea of the mask, and also greatly enjoyed the overarching coincidence theme. The fight scenes were solid enough that I'd like to scan through them again, as well. So, I thought Ultraviolet looked cool in the trailer and was disappointed, and thought this looked dippy in the trailer and was pleasantly surprised - go figure.

When Harry Met Sally, with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Aiiyaa. I also enjoyed this movie, however much teasing of me it engendered. Yay parallels between movies and real life turning out badly in the latter (two different parallels, even). Except not yay. But it made for the funny. Anyway, it's a solidly good film, a classic, if you will, in dialogue, plot and character development, each in their turn. It's...cute, and intelligent, a nice combination.

A thought provoking article on one of my favorite subjects, the relation of language to perceived reality (I really wanted to fit a pun in there, but it was either way too easy or too hard)

Google Mars would be a fun companion for reading Kim Stanley Robinson's Mars trilogy; though I'd surely like to see the oceanic northen hemisphere from the last novel, photoshopped maybe.

-nice dialogue, from an article-
"Have you been writing all of your life?" I asked, elated at the victory a writer could still have at her age.

"I wrote through my 20s and then got married and had a son," she said. "I didn't start up again until my 60s when my husband died."

I paused. I was a gung-ho writer then and wouldn't give it up for anything.

"Well, was it hard? I mean giving up writing. Did you resent it?"

"Oh, no, I didn't feel bad," she replied. "All the years I didn't write I never stopped seeing myself as a writer."

I had a horrible, horrible dream last night. But for the first time in a while, at least it didn't put me in a analogously horrible state when I finally got up for the day. I think as I fell back asleep after waking up out of breath, I was chanting internally over and over (and not without some element of desperation, I'll admit), "let it go," so that helped. Also, I did my best upon waking to find some positive in a mental re-run of old pain (or, emotional split lip, if you will), so that helped, too. Now that I'm aware of that lurking baggage that I'd thought was long gone, I can deal with it and heal it in a more aware manner - however painful that might be, at least it's healthier. As one meditation article aptly points out, of course, working towards "self-realization is never pretty."

-in other news, a few more photos

Born to Run, by Stephen Kenson. I used to adore the Shadowrun shared setting. It was gritty, noir, always original, sexy, brutal, and made for interesting exploration of issues of the darker sides of morality and character. But then the parent company that produced the game based in the setting went defunct, and they stopped publishing the novels. I picked up this novel with wary high hopes, noticing that they seemed to be bringing the shared setting back...and was unfortunately quite disappointed. Granted, I guess this might be a kind of introductory book to the setting, but even in that it would be a weak one. Any exploration of issues is shallow at best, there is little if any development of characters more rooted in real life slang and manner than in that of the setting, and the whole thing seemed better suited to a short story. Nope, does not match at all up to the old school days; thankfully, there are still used bookstores out there that usually have a few of the original Shadowrun novels in stock.

Tangentially, take almost everything in there and apply it to what happened when (with the same parent company, of course) the wonderfully epic and rich Battletech shared setting was watered down and defiled into "Mechwarrior" and then even more ungodly worse, "Mechwarrior: the Dark Ages" or whatever it is. I won't even deign to italicize those blasphemies. Ugh.

High Fidelity, with John Cusack and Iben Hjejle. One, movies on the Oxygen channel become dippy when there's lots of cursing. Who the hell would say, "What the frog?" Who thought that up when dubbing it? Sheesh. Two: why on earth would the same channel advertise Secretary for the next night - how the hell much stuff will they have to edit out? It makes me angry to think of it.

Aaand back to the film. It's...definitely under the category of 'meandering.' Also under the category of 'interesting character study.' See, where I normally have fun identifying with Cusack's intriguing characters, this one mostly just bothered me up until the very end. And while my first impulse was to ascribe that to maybe his character just not being very likeable, like the one in Pushing Tin (though I may go back and revise that), I started to wonder whether I was identifying with him, and just being bothered by something in myself. I still haven't figured out quite what, though; there were ephemeral, passing parallels, but I'm still at something of a loss. While I was put off by his seeming stubborn insistence on staying the same, mabye that was just his odd way of releasing his emotional baggage to be able to change? Still, there wasn't enough clear character development to make me want to go back and figure it out, as much as I usually like Cusack's movies.

I agree that number 1 is definitely up there; I hesitate to put more thought into this, but I would certainly add the love scene in the new Thomas Crown Affair completely off the top of my head. And disagree with several of those. Now, erotic scenes in novels and poetry...hmm...

I don't really have any deep thought behind this at the moment, but I'll just note that I've seen several gals lately without makeup for the first time, and was quite...well, surprised. Interestingly, they were much, much more attractive (all of this just in my perception) without anything on, almost looking like entirely different people. The one exception from a while back that I can think of is a minimum amount of makeup, ok two exceptions, and I remember the tiny amounts I saw each of them put on as little accents, but that's a whole order of magnitude of difference from the previously mentioned lipstick et al.

In other news, I've only quickly played a downloaded demo of it, but F.E.A.R. quickly caught my attention. One aspect can be summed up by the fact that while playing it late at night I was startled enough to think the phrase, "Sweet pumpkin-humping Jesus!" That said, it's a first-person shooter whose most attractive aspect, I think, is its atmosphere - which is, in a word, creepy. The action is also quite solid, as well, with impressively (seemingly) organized and reactive AI, and something of a setting that hints of expansiveness even within the minimum given in the demo.

Also, Fear of Physics seems to be an interesting site for tinkering with

Here we have an example of the complete opposite of a recent relationship of mine; well, at least one aspect of it. A gas explosion is not very passive-avoiding, no siree. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if trying to shoot, stab, and blow each other up might symbolize true love. In a Mexican way.

Quick article about expectations between people, and while it doesn't mention it I think it's probably great advice for romantic relationships

The Golden Bough, by James Frazer. For some reason, I don't recall why, I had occasion to look up a movie called The Wicker Man; and somehow, I also don't recall how, that led me to this book which has been transferred in its entirety online. In any case, it was written a good ways back in the century, but if you wade through something of an antiquated style there's all sorts of interesting information about pagan ceremonies and beliefs.

Flow, by Jenova Chen. Scott found this one, it's...oddly relaxing; a wonderful piece of art, if you ask me.

One of those ideas that came up in cross-country conversation, borne from real-life examples, (admittedly painful) examination of my own past behavior, and from texts I've been poring over lately. So, we acknowledge that idea that it might be part of human nature (or any animal's nature, really) to never do anything entirely for someone else - like, there's always some ulterior motive, however slight or subtle. So, if you have an urge to...help the homeless, or change a lover, there's probably anything from wanting to feel validated somehow to doing it to feel superior (etc) involved in the impulse.

The trick probably is, that's not necessarily a bad thing, just something to realize and remember - to be aware of really. One might aspire to truly selfless service, and gain whatever benefits that aspiration might confer. But a perhaps more directed point we ended up at in the conversation was that it's interesting that service of whatever kind to others can actually turn out to be more selfish than simply directing attention towards improving/changing/healing oneself. The irony is in the natural thought that is if one were to focus on one's self, that's 'selfish,' when it might actually be the one thing that can be done without using someone else for gratification. [not talking about focusing on the self at the expense of others, mind, but hypothetically healthy introspection of whatever kind]

Ultraviolet, with Milla Jovovich and Nick Chinlund (Toombs from Chronicles of Riddick? wtf?). Well. Uh. The trailer looked pretty good. Unfortunately, the pretty cool gadget-concepts and it-had-its-moments martial arts were nowhere near enough to make up for horrible writing, zero character development, and iffy CGI. And a plot that skated close to being incoherent, with a few odd just plain red herrings. Eh, I suppose in the end it's rent-able, if you're in the mood for some martial arts, but disappointing in the theatre; I can't really muster up anything articulate to say about it. It did have a fun opening credits sequence.

The Libertine, with Johnny Depp and Samantha Morton (Maria from Code 46? wtf?). Actually, there's several more actors in there that surprised me, in truth. Anyway, this film was better than Ultraviolet in quality in the order of magnitudes, though they are really too different to compare in any way. In any case, from the get-go The Libertine catches your attention intellectually - stay on your toes, attention-wise. I'll quickly acknowledge that it's very, very....risquee; I was actually feeling a little uncomfortable sitting next to my old roommate (in a slight "*cough, cough*" way), and in our theatre and the theatre a friend went to both, people were walking out. The writing and acting as a whole are filled with nuance and wit, ranging from snipes that you have to think about to running jokes made for snickering. Basically, to cut myself off from rambling, it's quite a combination of character study and period piece.

Dragons of Summer Flame, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. Yet again, another Dragonlance novel. This one is a very marked improvement over every previous one I've read lately, though it's still beer and pretzel fantasy - not that that's a bad thing, just something to remember. The authors did take an interesting turn playing with "good" and "evil" and exploring what each really means, or how perception can affect them. In that, however, they made for one quite interesting character that embodied that exploration and its implied conflicts (both internally and externally), and a whole bunch of characters that are just not interesting at all.

At the risk of sounding like my mother when she chants, "Maya, maya, maya!" everyone remember to drink water till it comes out your ears. Or something equally vaguely threatening. I mean, I've just been kind of cranky and breaking out a little, and headache-y. Lisa in the office here, on the other hand, was out the entirety of last week because of a kidney infection brought on by not drinking any water. Yes, it's not exactly desert heat, but as Xuemei pointed out in coming from Boston, cold can take moisture out of the air by freezing it or otherwise just as well. A public service announcement. ("Maya, maya, maya!!!")

I'm starting to re-think Xuemei's edict that I should make it my life's mission to find and marry her, now that I've seen a photo

"Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter." - hmmm....truth to this statement?

-and this one?
"We tend to do a lot of top down, micro-managing. In other words, we use the reptilian model." - it seems like some principle of biology I should know, and if that is the case, how would avian or mammalian or..uh, fish-ian models compare?

Here's an interesting observation: if one feels attacked or singled out when criticized by a loved one or superior in the workplace, it might feel like an unusual amount of sensitivity, like "I'm not normally this touchy..hmm..." So that inordinate sensitivity might actually be coming from an inward place, that is, a desire to please others or gain their approval (that seems to me one of those things that should be obvious but seems quite a surprise, anyway, if true). From there I guess we might return to an adage closer to the source, as it were, and reiterate the thought that it's important to have approval and validation from within one's self first, and then have any of that from anyone else just be icing on the cake.

Sanskrit and Arabic interest me as languages for similar reasons. Arabic seems almost designed for poetry - and this isn't just me spouting off, I've read that in disparate sources, actually. Part of the reason for that is because connotations of words in Arabic are almost more significant than the denotations, thus lending a given word several layers of meaning by default. Sanskrit, in turn, has been said by some to be a language almost designed, in a sense, for ritual or ceremony. Like Hebrew, each letter or distinct sound has its own significance and meaning, and thus every word is built up of those smaller component meanings, which provides a semantic depth to each word that is unparalleled.

And also, a quick ramble on one reason I prefer bodyweight exercise over weights. After a yoga class which turned out to be a slight bodyweight workout last night, it occurred to me that during and after I had a distinct feeling that what I was doing was something that was good for me - my body liked it. There is a similar feeling when I do bodyweight exercises such as abdominal sets, pushups, or pullups; one's muscles thrive on repetitive flexing and contracting - you're letting them fulfill their very purpose of being. Now, weights have their purpose, certainly - if I were to join the military or I was training for a fight, I would have reason and desire to augment my body beyond its natural state. But as it stands, I'm content to work on quality and density in my tissue over size and quantity, by pushing my self, using my self, rather than purposefully slightly injuring it to build it up over and over and losing out to wear and tear in the long run.

Word of the Day: logodaedalus - someone skilled in the manipulative use of words. That has to be useful somehow, seriously. And it's just a cool word.

One reason I like The L Word so much (besides the fun theme song, of course) is its emphasis on exploring identity. I mean, sure, technically the show is kind of a soap opera, but at the same time one would be quite hard-pressed to find a show that is able to delve into such a range of different identity issues, and with such clarity, without it becoming an academic gender issues exercise. For example, one character, Moira, is involved in changing her gender - becoming "Max." So, her breasts will be removed, and her hair is shortened, and her appearance is changing in a subtle but apparent way. Fine, that's a whole identity issue in and of itself. But: another character, Dana, develops breast cancer. Her breasts are removed, her hair falls out, and her appearance changes in a subtle but apparent way.

So, if the changes in one signify a shift to the masculine, what does that mean for almost the same changes in the other? Now that must have been a fun 'bam!' moment to write into the script, where those two changing identities came into confluence (I think it was a tiny bit stilted, but still done with aplomb).

With that focus on identity issues (and the recent theme of changing identities, another example being a lesbian character finding herself attracted to men again), the show is especially interesting because when you do find an identification with a character, it becomes especially acute. At least for me, anyway; I've been finding all sorts of identification with the characters whose relationships are shifting or ending (plus the meditation-subplot), so I'm always left a little aching afterwards, but having gained a little perspective, so bittersweet would perhaps be a better term in the end. It's too bad you don't watch that show, t, we would have a field day with identifications...

An experiment. We took cuttings of creosote, bird-of-paradise, and bougainvillea, and are going to attempt to grow them. A bonsai knife (ie, very, incredibly sharp) was used to cut them at a 45 degree angle for the maximum amount of that outside ring layer we could get (amazing how often that angle pops up, isn't it, for anyone who gets what I'm referencing). Then we dipped them in a liquid root hormone, then in a powder root hormone of a different type (which may be overkill, but it seems to work better on bonsai roots). Then, we used a chopstick to poke a hole for each stem in some rainwater soaked bonsai soil, so we wouldn't lose the powdered hormone by just shoving them in the dirt. As an alternative, we also tried putting some creosote stems in a small vase to soak, to see if the potato-principle might apply. If either method does happen to work, then people across the country'll be able to smell desert rain as soon as I get their plants to them!

Also, while we were doing that (it was twilight/dusk) we heard some planes, and so looked up. And damned if it wasn't a C-130, flying wingtip-to-wingtip....with an F-22! Had to be less than a thousand feet above us, like right there. And then they circled all the way around to come right back near us again. I think we just kind of stared with dropped jaws for a bit, then started babbling. I may have actually hopped from one foot to the other several times. The F-22 is really a beautiful machine, and I'm used to seeing A-10s in their graceful arcs (and even some F-4s and an Apache helicopter the other day!) a few hundred feet above me as I drive home and they come in to land. There was an interesting bell-toned clarity to the Raptor's sound at a certain point, distinctive enough to note, anyway. We couldn't figure out why those two planes would fly together in the manner that they were, though, it seemed a horribly odd combination.

Clade, by Mark Budz. I've read that this author has been compared to William Gibson, which I agree in thinking would be apt. Here's the trick, though - as was coined by a quote on the reverse of the novel, where Gibson was famous for being part of (or starting, even?) the cyberpunk subgenre, Budz has turned the driving themes that made such wonderful settings in novels such as Gibson's or Neil Stephenson's Snowcrash towards a different angle - 'biopunk.' That is, if one were to take the weaving of the semantics of technology and (dys)utopian from a cyberpunk story, and insert 'biology' instead of 'technology,' that might be an okay way of putting it. Or, from another angle, a slightly more punk and much more explicitly bio take of the characterstics of Ian Mcdonald's great novel Terminal Cafe. In any case, if you read this you'll probably be much more aware of smells and plant-life for a bit; that said, however, the novel is really more about the setting in the end than the plot.

Walk the Line, with Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon. I'd say this was a solidly good movie, though also a long and not exactly happy one. But it's certainly interesting, and the music's great, natch. Phoenix and Witherspoon acted and sang wonderfully, and were apparently uncannily like the real people according to my parents (my dad having having had breakfast with Cash and my mom having seen him and Carter in concert). I feel like I should have a lot more to say about this movie, but...at the same time, I don't think much has to be said about it. It's worth seeing if you're interested in Johnny Cash at all, and a generally good movie regardless.

fleurs, un papillon, et un arc-en-ciel

I was thinking in reading all those borrowed Dragonlance books that it kind of annoys me that fantasy shared settings of that general demeanor (maybe see also Forgotten Realms, for example, or even 40k thought that's debatable) utilize gods that play active roles in the stories and are often capricious or more human in character than not. It just...seemed to me to make something 'god'-like into more something that was kind of dumbed down, or just dippy, even; maybe it just became hard for me to take them seriously as 'gods.' So, in that style of fantasy writing I gravitated towards other shared settings, either without gods (Dark Sun or White Wolf Publishing's new stuff) or that made effort to maintain 'gods' as things that were really god-like, and not just another character (Planescape or WW Publishing's old stuff).

But, all of a sudden I've got two angled thoughts off of that. One, that maybe those gods that annoyed me were being used like the gods in Greek myth; that is, maybe they aren't being dumbed down so much as being used to try to lend these fantasy stories an air of myth and make the story 'bigger' than it would be otherwise. Then, two, there's the interesting path of H.P. Lovecraft, who attempted with his writing to de-centralize humanity. Where myth generally serves to validate humanity's existence and place it in a place central to destiny or fate, Lovecraft wrote his 'gods' in such a way as to make humanity, and whatever its destiny or fate may be, insignificant, to loop back around as opposed to 'gods' taking a personal interest in the day to day living of individuals.

Though I'm still very much a proponent of bodyweight exercise over any weighted exercise, this seems a nice survey of exercise technique for the womens.

I don't know what the hell it is, but looks yummy - well, unwholesome, but still yummy.

And now, a study in contrasts. Sort of. I just really like that phrase. Anyway. (this is what happens when I try to write while having one my headaches). I'll try to focus, though.

Teachers, and teachers. I enjoy it when teachers (of anything) have two qualities especially. One, if they place themselves within a context. An example of context within history might be 'lineages' as used by traditional martial arts teachers or Siddha yoga teachers, where you can trace who taught who back to olden days. Obliquely from that might be combining, such as MMA or finding parallels in Sufi poetry and Sanskrit texts. Or from a different angle, context might be showing the students how what they're learning may be practically used - getting more out of films with close-reading, for instance, or take French-language students to a French restaurant to actually practice. Two, giving priority to common sense.

Which leads into the contrast. Sometimes teachers go purely by-the-book, which (another example) can be disastrously misleading in a martial art that is taught by principles over pure technique, or really any martial art in the end (not a person in the world actually fights from some deep stance or uses techniques straight from forms if they have any intelligence...but some still teach that anyway...). Or, to combine thoughts, using withheld reasoning ('my way only!') or tradition or by-the-book logic to narrow the focus of teaching, for whatever negative reason such as keeping the students low or fear of being able to expand or just need for control.

And I hope that was semi-coherent. I'm kind of afraid to go back and read it.

The Drawing of the Three, by Stephen King. Ah, the Dark Tower epic. So addictive. For as thick as this book is, it reads fast. This second novel of the series in what a forward describes is supposed to in truth be one gigantically long uber-novel serves mainly to introduce more main characters; as such not as much seems to happen in it as the first novel, but that might just be because the main plot doesn't advance forward so much. Because a lot certainly happens in the course of introducing and fleshing out the eponymous-by-title three. As a sidenote, it's especially interesting how King often lends a completely secondary and tangential character a couple pages of background or character sketching, and then all of a sudden what would have been a random, forgettable scene becomes that much more memorable, and takes on that much more weight (kind of a reverse of the future-flash for the secondary characters in the film Run Lola Run).

Test of the Twins, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. This was my favorite out of the second Dragonlance trilogy (courtesy once again of Mr. Bryce). For one, it actually expanded the characters out from the few the previous to novels had been kind of stiflingly centered on. Two, it actually approached the sense of 'epic' the first two novels wanted, but didn't achieve. Three, the time time travel schtick is handled tastefully and with aplomb in this novel. And four, there's relatively none of the bloody kender (to reiterate, that race in which there is constant disregarding of that which makes them uncomfortable, rationalizing of actions, and a complete lack of understanding of consequences). In that vein, a quote, (which I think you'd like, t) -
"They [the other kender] don't seem to understand. They just don't...well...care. It's hard - caring - isn't it, Caramon? It hurts sometimes."
"Yes, Tas," Caramon said quietly. They had entered a shady grove of trees. Tanis was waiting for them, standing beneath a tall, graceful aspen whose new spring leaves glittered golden in the morning sun. "It hurts a lot of the time. But the hurt is better than being empty inside."

Witty columns by Lore Sjöberg, for spare-time enjoyment

      Hey martial arts rant, haven't done one of those in a while. To maintain and train one dominant side, or work for being ambidextrous? That is the question. An old-school line of thinking might run on weapons-logic: it wouldn't make sense to split your muscle growth or training for using a bow from both sides, nor would you want to pull a sword left-handed and maim the guy next to you pulling his sword right-handed. But, on the other hand, in the Filipino martial arts, which almost always have a weapon in each hand, training both sides is a very necessary thing. Without weapons, there might be a line of thought where you train one side for one quality and the other side for another - jab with the left, power with the right, in boxing, for example. Or, say, in aikido, one side is trained simply because it's easier to learn the complex minutae involved and then have techniques separate for each side, for a variant on the boxing theme. But, to flip that around, karate and jujitsu generally make a point of training both sides - karate as a contrast to boxing, in switching sides in hopes of a more versatile and position-in-space manner of fighting, and jujitsu as a contrast to wrestling (being able to maintain a platform to still strike from the inside needing both sides versus needing a strong side to shoot from and lift).
      And where was I going with that? Um. Hm. I suppose I'll just call it a quick survey of the topic and leave it at that.

The Da Vinci Code, by Dan Brown. I kind of have mixed feelings about this one; I'd been holding back from reading it on the basis that it seemed everyone and the mother was reading it, but meaning to eventually nonetheless. But when a pretty gal up and hands you a copy, you can't hardly say no, right? Basically, my split is that I enjoyed the content immensely, but just couldn't really get into the writing style very much. If you're interested in the kind of art and religious history that the story centers around, there's all sorts of trivia and things to look up beyond the novel (even if it's just half to verify that Brown wasn't just making something up). This is a completely random reference, but if you want another fun yarn about the Grail (though in a more and yet also less traditional sense), look up To Sift Through Bitter Ashes, by David Wilson.

Definitely not for vegetarian eyes, and as much as I haven't been eating meat as much as I used to, I salute Weird Meat for trying new and crazy things!

Some new picpics

In the newspaper today there was an article about University of Arizona graduates staying in Tucson to work or open businesses. There wasn't anything particularly spectacular said about them, but more just gratitude and the author explaining why it was nice they chose to stay in or return to this city. Yay validation!

In talks with Ms. Connie, it came up that Stephen King sometimes has his characters become maimed in the course of the given story. My first response to this has usually been to be profoundly disturbed; say, for example, the gunslinger losing vital-to-his-existence-as-a-gunslinger fingers in the Dark Tower epic. The only explanation I've been able to come up with for this feeling is some sense of unfairness, but that's not really an explanation at all, and the rest of it is beyond me as of yet. The rejoinder to all that, courtesy of the same lovely gal who provided me with a copy of the second Dark Tower novel, is that in those characters being maimed, their story becomes less about what they do, and more about who they are in response to it. Ten points, to her, and to King for using it that way! Still haven't quite figured out why it initially bothered me so much, though.

Dry, but a straighter and simpler answer to questions about extended family relationships than I've ever gotten

I always try to maintain a little background project-helper program thingie on my computer, though sometimes the project finishes and a new one is hard to find - so, here's one! (it even works on Macs, a nice plus not often found with them)

One, sake apparently does have as wide a range in taste as they say it does. And hot sake is better than cold, and more expensive, dryer sake is way better than cheap stuff. Two, "Japanese" style restaurants where they cook everything right in front of you are hella expensive, but it might be argued that the given chef, however Caucasian, can make up for it with insane and possibly dangerous wielding, flipping, drumming, and spinning of kitchen implements, and/or food. Three: on a list of Bad Ideas, put down going to a country-western club while the rodeo's in town. The word crowded applies, to understate things. Still, I managed to learn the two-step. Oh yeah. I am a dancing machine. Except not really.

The Tao of Steve, with Donal Logue and Greer Goodman. I saw this a long time ago, but it's well worth multiple watchings. It's a very conversational movie, both in the sense that the conversations in the movie are a pleasure to listen to and in the sense that it would be easy to pause the movie regularly and have a conversation about what was just said in the dialogue. I think the viewer'd get a good deal more out of it if they've read from the philosophers quoted and used throughout the movie, but that's not really necessary to enjoy it. And fittingly, for a movie about relationships, the myriad of different kinds of relationships (which are all yet connected in meaningful ways) are quite interesting. Also, there are some great vistas from New Mexico, which reminded me of why I really do like the Southwest so much.

Libyan poet Khaled Mattawa, in translation

-still rough, but hey I'm posting it anyway, so there-

Blush

Her face blossomed shyly
like a rose, under the caress of my earnest gaze
and words. Her cheeks flushed
delicately velvet red, as if lit by candles,
and oh-
      the warmth
            of that soft tint
                  (a flower a-flame)
and oh-
      how I longed to kiss
            those petal soft lips
                  in that burning moment –

but with a murmur of her own,
      she closed, and cooled,
            like night.
And I left, with only
the scentcolor memory
of a blush.

A friend recently started teaching her first formal yoga classes, at Cactus Flower (south of Rudasill on Oracle, in Tucson, AZ), and I already noticed/learned an interesting thing from just one of her sessions. That is, she had us do several poses where we were reaching around ourselves, outside of our field of vision, to grasp specific points (arch of the foot or top of the thigh, for example).

The trick is, that seems all well and easy to reach around and say, clasp your hands behind your back; but trying to catch your foot with your diagonally opposite hand over your back while on one hand and one knee puts you in an entirely different mental space. For me, anyway, it was like my sense of vision had to practically shut down for a moment to be able to devote my attention to my balance and body-in-space senses to perform the twin tasks of finding my foot in the first place, and then maintaining that posture. It wasn't really a blindness, but such a dramatic shift of attention that it practically seemed so. At any rate, it was interesting.

In other news, twice now I've done these quiz thingies to determine my dosha, or my body type according to ayurvedic thought; and twice, I turned out to be 'tri-doshic,' or pretty much equally balanced between the three types. So, from one angle, I would think damn straight - I should hope I'm balanced, for the amount of effort I put into being so; but I don't really know whether that's a result of any effort on my part or simply the way my body is constructed. From another angle, where I might get the benefits of the good sides of each body/mind type, rather than just one, that means I might also run into the quandaries of all three types, so I have to be extra sure to maintain the balance, as there's more landmines to step on, as it were.

I always wanted to buy one of these back at the Biosphere 2, but for the prohibitive cost; no idea what the conversion rate for yen is, though...

Une gallerie en francais - Marc Simonetti

I'm curious to see whether the military will adopt this along with their other new equipment

Comments on new, unhealthy food, fun style

So I read an article about the symbolism of the component movements of one of iaido's forms, and then got this crazy idea in my head to experiment with that in a poem form. I'm not exactly sure I really like at all how it turned out, but here's what happened when I tried, at any rate:
------------
(the cuts she did not grace me with)

The first (no action without consequence), the blade slo
   wly d r a w n till
         thelastflash of
movement.               Warning, watching before
      decision      (hers, a sharp burning in the dark
         as she carved at my back)
and the unhealthy tickle, of blood, trickling
                                                                   unseen.

The second cut. Compassion.
      The intent to end my suffering.
            Her eyes were as a shark's, though:
blank with sullen incomprehension [apathy]
      as she watched me
                                       bleed.
Quite the conundrum, learning
to give oneself the killing blow.

Cleansing. Of blade. Of heart
      and mind, each slick with emotion and reaction;
of dirt in which I had thrust my sword(self)
      to lean on and stand again.

Sheathing. Letting the blade(soul) be
                     still.
                           The past put away.
Always yet
                  aware               of present
                              of future,

Name trivia time! So my mom's first name, Najwa, means "essence of love." Her maiden name, Ghanaim, means "treasures." But not just any treasure, interestingly, but specifically treasure gained as a result of conflict. Which, on a facetious level, could be an approximation of "booty" or "isorla" for anyone who gets the obscure sci-fi reference of the latter, and on a not-so-facetious level might be a statement of fact about some ancestor of ours, especially if we're descended from nomads as some of our relatives claim. Now, to jump over to my mom's name-by-marriage, Harris, in reading a recent National Geographic article on Celtic culture in modern times I found a mention of "the northern-most island of the Outer Hebrides" being named Harris. So, in light of that I'm curious as to whether we have an ancestor from there, and what the word 'Harris' might actually mean (I'm hoping it's not 'hedgehog' as my dad claims, based on what's supposedly on the family crest).

Also, in light of ancestor-talk, two women at the barbecue the other day realized that one of their ancestors probably killed the other girl's ancestor. That is, one gal was descended from Billy the Kid, and the other was descended from a man who had the same name as someone Billy had killed...and the last record of him was in the particular city said killing occurred. Whoa. The women got along just fine, however.

In light of barbecue talk, there was some awesome stuff food-wise. For one, the host made hummus and tabbouleh, which already being awesome in and of themselves, were further done up in gorgeous colored ceramic bowls with color-coordinated garnishes of tomatoes and cucumbers (interesting how she's also quite a talented painter). Along with that were the requisite veggies, chips, and salsa, and some obscure beers and cheap wine that was actually pretty good. For dinner there were chicken/artichoke sausages with fancy mustard, skirt steak rolled with blue cheese, even a nice big steak for Cassie the beautiful husky-mix with the multi-colored eyes, and grilled portobello mushrooms and veggies. And dessert! The host made her own birthday cake, decorated with crushed M&Ms, with a layer in the middle of frosting and the same crushed candy. Original, and tasty! (sorry if that was boring, I'm running on the assumption there are other people besides me out there who love reading about food)

I couldn't help but snort when I read this - and not just because it's by Ben Franklin

Firewall, with Harrison Ford and Paul Bettany. As much as this is really not the kind of movie I'd usually see, I tried to appreciate it as best I could. I thought Ford and Bettany did nice jobs in their respective roles, and enjoyed that aspect of the movie. The plot, on the other hand...not so much, and the general style didn't really do much for me either. It wasn't bad, just not very interesting.
That said, we were pretty much laughing all through the ending of the movie. It just got...over the top. And I know I'm a bit hyper-critical of fight-scenes, but - though I enjoyed this one to some degree - yeesh, a little bit overboard for what the movie's about, there. And, though I doubt anyone'll notice this, there was a random aiki wrist-lock, that isn't even pulled off (a 9 of the 15 for those few who'll recognize it)

And kart racing! Was interesting. I enjoyed it, despite my initial nervousness. I didn't do very well, but I was also doing a lot of driving technique ass-backward (sometimes almost literally when spinning out) in retrospect. These are definitely not little mini-golf-place karts, and will actually drift and spin out and other assorted fun effects of a lack of traction. I think I came out of the experience having a quite different understanding of driving in general, and I'm sure I would even more with each successive experience. There's driving on the road, and then there's race-driving (even in little karts), and they are very, very different things. The most fun part for me this go-round was the moment after the first caution-flagged lap, where they wave the green flags, and you just slam the gas pedal down and gun it.

Random and disparate things. I noticed in a manufacturing magazine lying around here that there's apparently a shortage of engineers and other trained personnel in the US; I just thought it was interesting to note that where at the beginning of the industrial revolution, workers were kept uneducated intentionally and as a matter of course, but now in contrast there's a desperate need and call for more education. I'd be curious to see how much of that is societal change and how much is based upon more complex tasks and manufactured goods needing to be produced.

Went to a barbecue this weekend at an apartment complex that dates back to the 1950's; it's interesting, because right after going up the incredibly steep drive to get to where it's hidden in a shallow on top of a hill, it's like you're not in Tucson anymore at all. Well, in one sense there's still a desert feel in the architecture and dirt/log parking lots, but everything - including the overgrown hedges and other vegetation - obviously dates back several decades. For the first time, I found something 'retro' actually appealing, I think because it wasn't something in imitation or simply appealing to older styles, but actually, really was from that era, down to the funny little old-school hot tub. Unfortunately, the only way I have of accurately describing it is to compare it to similar in the movie Mulholland Drive, but it seems the only people who've seen that movie were at the barbecue itself; ah well.

Dieu est grand, je suis toute petite, with Audrey Tautou and Edouard Baer. I want to say I enjoyed this movie, but I almost feel like I need to watch it again so I could catch everything in it. I agree with a review I read on IMDB, that if you haven't had spiritual-search kind of thoughts, it'll be very hard to identify with the story, but luckily I'm on the have-had-thoughts side of the spectrum, so I ended up being charmed by the quirky style of the whole thing in the end, I think. I think this is one of those films like Easy or Secretary that is a bit out of the way for most people to like, but you'll really like it if you do. Interestingly, I think all three of those movies have similar entwined themes of finding self and romance, but Secretary ironically probably has the most palatable ending for most people.

War of the Twins, by Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. Firstly, thanks again to Bryce in receiving! Awesome. I'm going to have to say again, though, this trilogy's got nothing on the original Dragonlance trilogy. This second novel is another example of what wants to be epic, compressed; it was better than the first, at least, though I remain as hesitant about enjoying time travel as I do for any Star Trek episode with the same. Nonetheless, I'll give them that this was a tasteful effort in this regard. And there was way less of the bloody kender. The nicest thing about returning to these Dragonlance novels is that it's nice to be able to parse through characters and storylines with someone; I mean, everybody watches movies, and can discuss them, but not everyone reads so much.

copied out of a novel:
"I've led a very sheltered life."
"I guess."
"So have you. You just don't realize it."
"In what way?"
"Fear," Dorit tells him. "Prejudice. Those can be just as confining as any physical barrier."

Krsch...hm, I'm probably not spelling that right, anyway plum brandy of some kind that might be spelled like that is strong like whoa. But tasty.

In other news, one of the suppliers I buy from for work was bought out by a much larger company, because they were getting too successful, basically. This is all well and good, but for that the larger company in question is a competitor of the place I work for - so it's a pretty solid chance they won't sell to us anymore. But as the catalogs have already been published, with those suddenly unavailable parts taking up a notable chunk, I have to scramble to buy at least a year's supply. When I finally finished my research and figured out how much it would cost to do that, it came out to...well, basically enough to flat out buy a solid house hands-down. I know that maybe it's a drop in the bucket to the company owners, but damn...well, at least I can say I've been responsible for buying stuff in the hundreds of thousands of dollars, I suppose. And stare at it wistfully as I do it.

I already like olives, but I think this is pretty cool, however ephemeral an effort it may seem

I've got one comment on today. It's not a complaint on effort required, mind, as for all the effort I've put in so far and have yet to, I'm having a great time and pleasure doing it. It's more that the effort isn't equal; where's feminism now, huh? I mean, there is the steak+bj day idea, sometime in March, but really how many gals are going to go out of their way to put effort into that? I'd rather just see some effort back on Valentine's Day itself, even if it required guys surrendering their masculinity a little. Hell, I'll take some flowers and chocolates, I generally enjoy both of those things, yet never get them as gifts. Equality, people!

Ohh, this just makes me laugh - because if anything is truly sublime, it is the feminine bottom, naturally.

-copied out of a novel in honor of the holiday:
How loud your heart is calling, love,
How close the darkness at your breast,
How hectic are the rivers, love,
Drawn through your dying wrist.

And love, what heat your frail skin hides,
As pure as salt, as sweet as death,
And in the dark the red moon rides
The foxfire of your breath."

I was thinking that it's interesting how people react when they see a photo of someone doing an advanced arm balance or pretzel-like yoga pose; that is, there often seems to be a mixture of admiration and yet shying away with thoughts like, the model has to be born that flexible, or it's an accomplishment that the speaker could never hope to match, or that it must be painful to do that. So then that got me thinking, what does that model in that challenging pose represent in terms of yoga, and whatever else?

For one, though it certainly is an accomplishment in a general sense, it's not important at all in yoga to be able to do a more advanced pose, but rather more (trying not to ramble here) relaxing into what you are capable of in the moment, rather than pushing for more. While sometimes the model is just plain a contortionist, I think another misperception is that it's purely flexibility in question; it's just as much great muscular and mental strength to be able to manipulate one's body as such. And while it may certainly appear painful, I think rather that a truly deepened pose is really more representative of freedom and a deeper relaxation of the body-mind, as one doesn't force their way into something like that. I'm sure there was some kind of pain that went into getting to that point, but to flip that around, the heat-like pain usually associated with stretching can be seen (to slip into metaphor) as a cleansing or releasing kind of fire - after all, pain isn't necessarily bad as our reflexive reaction usually labels it.

Random quote of the day, by William James - "We have grown literally afraid to be poor. We despise anyone who elects to be poor in order to simplify and save his inner life. If he does not join the general scramble and pant with the money-making street, we deem him spiritless and lacking in ambition."
---Maybe it doesn't have to have the label 'poor,' per se, but I can think of several people who I really admire because of their 'inner life' (and consequent relative lack of material wealth), and a lot of people who I've lost respect for because they've come to fit the other side of that quote. That's not to say I can't think of a few people who I admire for their 'inner life' who also have high ambitions in the other regard, but I guess it's a matter of proportion on each side.

So, up late last night for no particular reason (actually, nightmares from a nap earlier in the day), caught an episode of The Boondocks. And I have to say, whoever is in charge of animation for that show has a keen appreciation of martial arts. In one fight scene alone, I saw my favorite move lifted straight out of the lovely choreography of Troy, several references to specific moves in Bruce Lee's Enter the Dragon (and in the script, there, as well), axe and tornado kicks (one of those things where if you see them in a fight scene you know the choreographer enjoys martial arts on a deeper level), and I think even a slight animation-kudo to a Teen Titans bit. And before that, it was Kill Bill-references combined with more samurai movie references, and even some great Cowboy Bebop-style stuff thrown in there; I just want to shake the hand of whoever put that much effort in. Or, if female, give them a big thank you kiss. Hell, maybe if they're male, too, it was pretty rocking.

Curious George, with Will Ferrell and Drew Barrymore. While I would probably end up calling this 'movie-lite' in the end, I mean that in an entirely complimentary way. I guess I'd say it was like a children's book in film-form, with a pleasant soundtrack and a lovely animation style, and I was certainly smiling nigh the entire time. I thought the parallels to King Kong in terms of the plot were interesting (I begin to wonder whether there's a subgenre for that sort of story...), and the little bits of metafiction and trappings of modern culture as well. That is, Disney movies from back in the day and even movies like The Incredibles, for example, seem to be in a kind of time-less setting pretty consistently, and this one in contrast relied upon Starbucks coffee cups and cell phone cameras; I wonder what that begins to say about how children's lit/theatre is changing and what that says about kids nowadays.

Random quote of the day (Quentin Crisp) - "It is explained that all relationships require a little give and take. This is untrue. Any partnership demands that we give and give and give and at the last, as we flop into our graves exhausted, we are told that we didn't give enough." - I think a few other people besides me might end up reading that and laughing a little darkly, as well

For a good long while lately, I was under a mistaken impression. That is, the last relationship I was in left me with a feeling that I was too shy or cautious to get out and try new things or travel. I won't say that the negative shift was entirely the other person's fault, it always takes two to tango, but I will acknowledge that they certainly hammered it home with comments and actions.

But then something clicked a little while ago. I remembered that nigh every time I go into a store or restaurant, I make a point of trying something new - whether it's a strange fruit, a green drink, or a foreign movie with a cute title that I know nothing about. Most every time I go to a restaurant or coffee shop I try a new dish or drink. I love going to random workshops, seminars, and concerts, just to learn new things and meet new people. And I've been having conversations every other day about trips everywhere from the next city over to Europe (Brittany, N. Italy, and London, my feet will trod upon thee...). It's not like I ever really stopped doing most of those things; just, my perception of them had become skewed. So it's kind of a relief, and kind of a...center'ing feeling to remember that; no, I was never so hesitant and reclusive as I had come to think.

Random tricks of accent and slang I've noted lately while working with Mexican/Vietnamese (this would be a lot better with the IPA, but I'll try to do it phonetically):
wozwon - accented 'warehouse one,' really sped up, but I was confused for a while when the intercom was calling me to "wozwon!"
Hojay (not really a 'j,' more the sound of the second syllable of 'garage') - accented Jose, who's ironically only called Jose on paper nowadays
wawl - I could actually use more information on this one, it appears to be the more en vogue replacement of 'ese,' and is used kind of like 'omae' used to be in Shadowrun, if anyone gets that reference
cholo - kind of insulting, kind of like 'vato,' but seemingly more centered around being devoted to cars or trucks mod'ed in poor taste

I think they should have made it look like a fire flower, personally; and have it play the sound effect for when Mario gets fireballs whenever it goes off. Tangentially, if anyone reads this who's actually seen ball lightning, I'm sure we'd all love to hear about it...

Random quotes of the day by Samuel Butler:
"Eating is touch carried to the bitter end."
---
"Let us be grateful to the mirror for revealing to us our appearance only."

One, I just wanted to note the first rain we've had in several months in Tucson. It was kind of wan and sad winter rain, but it seemed to make everyone happy. It seemed interesting to me that everywhere from just walking around to the radio to the evening news, everyone was just going on about the rain and the scent of it; I guess that shows what it means round these parts.

Two, had a great conversation with a random guy from the warehouse about Alexander the Great. Does anyone know whether he was actually poisoned, or was it fever or what? Tangentially, if anyone ever made other twenty-some year old males feel unaccomplished, it's that dude.

Three, had a great conversation about the local metal scene with a lady welder. Disturbed is coming to town, apparently, and it really is true that no one can understand a single thing Ozzy says if you meet him in person.

Since I'm a martial arts nerd, I thought I'd just echo here some things one of our head instructors was using as examples in teaching. If you want to see fighting that resembles Ko Sho's Okinawan karate in the movies, check out most Wesley Snipes movies, and to a very secondary extent Van Damme - that is, in the sense that they set->go! and in the lack of flow in their movements; it's pummeling that relies on a hard hit having a noticeable or stun-effect. Hence, the general admiration of the Blade movies in the dojo. For the other, secondary component of that same Okinawan karate, the unique taizu exercises for speed that are based on Chinese teaching, Jet Li movies set in modern times are a good example, with his emphasis on sheer amount of hits over power and continuous flow.

Now, if someone could find me some jujitsu and Filipino arts examples besides the lovely, albeit nigh unique, ones in Stargate Atlantis, I'd be a happy happy camper....

I just want to note, first of all, that as much as I want to jabber about the most recent L Word, I am restraining myself. I put the urge down to the writers concentrating well on character development (but tangentially, and unrelated to what I would have rambled about, damn that was a surprising amount of sweaty naked bodies).

Anyhoo, I was thinking while driving along in the very pleasantly summer-like night, with the sunroof open to the city-lit clouds, about the local community radio station. Or, at least, one reason I really like it besides the wonderful tangos and sambas that mixed with the cool breeze last night. That is, that it helps to turn Tucson into something like the city-that-is-any-city in Charles de Lint's writing. Just for a couple examples, the late night dj's with the lovely smokey voices that play whatever they damn well please, and the access to (and their avid support of) the local music scene which is actually quite rich, Tucson being the kinda-artsy town that it is.

Without KXCI, there would just be the commercial stations with their endlessly repetitive, nationally decided playlists, and finding the next time Hans and the Attache would be playing at Plush would require checking every week for a half-torn, stapled up flyer (which would be do-able, but KXCI is like a helper-buddy that holds together what would otherwise be random and unconnected events).

Random Robert Frost quotes of the day!
"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."
-and-
"To be a poet is a condition, not a profession."

I've read articles about emotions suddenly springing up while doing yoga (hell, I think that was even in an episode of The L Word), running on the idea that releasing tension in the body is reflected in the mind/emotions. Haven't actually encountered it, though; that is, while doing yoga, at any rate. Where I have run into it is while working out. Not while doing forms or martial drills, interestingly - that seems to build a confidence of sorts, I think because of the attached thoughts of adrenaline and intent - but only with more inwardly directed exercise, like bridging or bodyweight movements.

So, while it's a bit annoying to feel a sudden subtle dizziness at feelings I'm confused about, or distracting to work through an ache in my chest that isn't muscular at all, I suppose it's probably healthy to release those tensions I wasn't consciously aware of. I mean, while it does almost make me have an aversion to working out sometimes, because I'm a little afraid of what might well up against my will, I just have to remember that just because it might be painful or disconcerting, that doesn't mean it has to have a bad connotation.

There're another couple questions I noted last night about it. One, is it just that working out keys into my emotions in a way that yoga doesn't (that is, maybe that's just how my body works, in needing more vigorous motion than relaxing)? And two, is it because I try to integrate yoga-based exercises and breathing in, or just a function of working out in general? In any case, it feels like an interesting example of the difference I'd read about between thought and emotion, where emotion has a physical aspect attached to it (that ache in my chest, for example).

Random Little Poem of the Day (because Basho rules, and I need to find my favorite haiku of his): "Without the bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance to the whole world?"

Hm...don't really have much to say today at all. I'm in a generally somewhat kind of confused state, I think. Which isn't bad at all. Just...shifty.

(Quite Cool) Random Quote of the Day: "Meditation is when you sit down and do nothing. Poetry is when you sit down and do something" - Norman Fischer

I just wanted to note that instead of watching the Super Bowl, my dad went to a symphony and I went to a dance performance. And you know what? We loved it. And everyone else who was watching football was bored and/or falling asleep. Irony.

A Feast for Crows, by George Martin. Martin continues to be one of my favorite authors; the novels in this series are high fantasy, but Martin continues to write it in a very down to earth manner, and furthermore I think he's a master of character development and character-driven plots. I'll note quickly that his writing may at the same time be a bit too violent and sometimes even too brutal - for example, the gal who gave me my copy wrote on the inside cover, 'Hope your favorite characters don't get killed off!' That's another thing to note, actually, if you've been keeping up with this series, Martin took the interesting route of actually splitting the myriad and complex plot threads into two, as he put in an afterward (paraphrasing): "the whole story of half the characters rather than half the story of all the characters."

As usual, he has continued to expand the setting in relatively original ways and go further into the various characters; where the first few novels were mixes of violence, sex, and intrigue, I'd say this one was weighted more intrigue-sex-violence. The most interesting part of the story for me is the Frank Herbert-like exploration of a contrast between religion as an uncontrollable force (Jihad-principle) and religion as a political tool. The one thing I'd say he could have toned down was the occasional tediousness of listing the characteristics of every last banner in a given situation, though I suppose that might be a necessary aspect of high fantasy.

Random Quote of the Day: "Descartes declared, 'I think, therefore I am.' But yogis say, 'I think, therefore I am confused about who I am.'" - a little tongue-in-cheek, but apt, I think

Mohammed Image Archive - for one, the name of this website itself is completely ironic; I think it's interesting that there's so many interesting pieces of art concerning something/one that's generally not even supposed to be depicted at all

Stuff Sucks - I haven't really read any webcomics in forever, but this one randomly caught my eye somehow; I think the coloring is interestingly unusual, and the humor is quirky. Also, it is "Made in Amsterdam."

      Man, sleeping on my belly is messing with me; well, that is, waking up with my face hanging off the edge of the bed was somewhat disorienting. Alas, such are the sacrifices we must make for some ink. Anyway, so as I was waking up, I flipped on the Saturday morning cartoons, and pleasantly found Ben 10 to be on. Not only does it have a catchy theme song, but it also moves out of the general cartoon cliches to use that great subgenre, the roadtrip, as its backbone. What I think is interesting about using the roadtrip genre in a cartoon is the episodic nature of it; rather than picking one overarching road-setting (Europe in Eurotrip, Route 66, the Oregon Trail being horribly obvious examples) and having that set part of the tone, the cartoon is free to shift settings at will. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it would be hard to fit satires of every summer trip archetype from 'by the lake' to visiting D.C. to camping in national parks to seeing the world's largest rubber band ball. Sure, it's a cartoon about a kid superhero, but I think the real value is in the subtler roadtrip-satire jokes.

Bubblesoap - haven't seen a clever project like this in a while

They're making a Tristram Shandy movie! I am left bereft of words.

      My plans for tonight having fallen through (ah, Urgent Care, I tangentially blame thee), I naturally did what I've done the last few times that's happened. I went out anyway. Tonight, it was to see the lovely Canadian band Po' Girl at Hotel Congress. The opener was a very pleasant surprise, another gal from Canada, whom I think I developed a crush on, fell a tiny bit in love with, and then was sad when she said she was going back across the continent, all in the space of her set. But hey, I've got some practice with similar situations and people also named Carolyn, so it's cool.
      Po' Girl herself...themselves...however that syntax should be was great, no bones about it. It was kind of blues-y, kind of country, kind of folk, but with that unique Canadian diphthong thrown in, which was interesting. The ladies have beautiful voices, and play everything from accordians to harmonicas to washtub bass to guitar and fiddle. That, and it was cute that they marvelled so at seeing a cactus for the first time, even amongst all their other charm. If or when they come to Tucson again, I'll definitely make it a point to go.

Since a lament was voiced recently that duels weren't in fashion anymore (though it was agreed that a good slogan for a martial arts school would be "Good old fashioned fisticuffs."), I figured why not glance through what we've got going on in that regard in our martial arts school.

Basically, there're two aspects that just recently...ah, came into vogue. One - just plain challenging people. This one's mostly for the little kids, to help them to build confidence in being assertive with their challenge, and to give them a little bit of structure for their roughhousing, as opposed to just randomly tackling someone. It is quite funny to see someone three feet tall call out someone who's about 6'7" for a throwdown, though.

The other side of it grew out of our 'Session' as a practical drill. That is, we have Session, which is a lot like sticky-hands in wing chun, but with less emphasis on trapping and more on unbalancing and joint locks; then there's the more karate side of the same, which is basically striking and parrying at trapping range, but without the trapping. But with the former, the Session-players can get lost in trapping and sticking, and forget to strike or sometimes even do anything of consequence, and with the latter can get lost in seeing who can get the most brutal blows in the alotted time without putting much thought or technique into it.

So: an actual use for karate-style assigning of points - first to three. Instead of flowing for the length of a minute round, say, you pause a moment and start over when someone gets a clean hit or unbalancing. This is practically useful in keeping the disadvantages from above from generating, and generally leads to two variations: either someone gets smacked upside the head without barely reacting at all, which leads to laughter and sheepish looks, or short series of parries which end up actually quite graceful sometimes and end with a clean hit to the neck or ribs, which leads to laughter and admiring nodding. Good times.

Random Quote of the Day: "Once I planned to write a book of poems entirely about the things in my pocket. But I found it would be too long; and the age of the great epics is past." - I think we should bring back epic poetry, or at least some long ballads; Autobiography of Red, for example, is a wonderfully eerie example of a 'novel in verse,' as it's billed

Nahh...couldn't be real...but it would cool if it was...

Lots of blood and pain. Yup. But, getting my tattoo re-done and expanded was fun, all in all. I really like this relatively new place - if you're in Tucson, Arizona, check out Metro Tattoo, they've got some great artists, who are nice and personable to boot (and/or bloody crazy), and a lovely piercer who seems quite knowledgeable. Personally, I was even attracted to the decor of the place - instead of tacky flash everywhere and glaring lights, the walls are in various shades of red, with prints of dark angels and fae tastefully spread about, plants, and leather couches. It's like a comfy, stylish lounge.

So...the inking itself. A lot of similes come to mind, involving feelings of scalpels or needles, but I think the most painful aspect is actually the vibration, of all things. That, and when it gets near or over bone (the vibrations transmit down your skeleton a ways) and the fun pain-tingles near the spine. All that said, it's certainly an ordeal, but not an unmanageable one; I recognize that what I have is relatively large, but moreover it's the amount of outlining and color put into it, so it's not quite a sleeve but it was certainly a bit more time and work than the average tattoo.

I think I shifted all the way through whatever repertoire I have of meditation/pain management stuff over the course of the given hours, but two points stuck as working well - the not very meditative, 'pfft, this ain't nothing next to emotion-pain/heartbreak,' and the more effective, 'pain is only assigned a bad connotation by reflex, it's just another sensation and isn't intrinsically good or bad, but just is.' I think I did okay, got a compliment or two on stillness, and the people in the shop thought I was bored or falling asleep at a few points.

Actually, it was quite relaxing, in truth. Lots of endorphins probably helped, though the adrenal rush left me starving. I had a flash of thought at one point, that maybe in some ways people who cut themselves unconsciously use the pain to approach a meditative state, which in a sense is healthy but the route to it isn't quite. I'm not sure how to explain that thought further but am glad of the insight, or better understanding or what, if there's any verity to it.

Also, I had already thought Alice Cooper was a pretty rocking guy (business and music-wise), but his radio show (which was playing in the shop) is awesome - great songs, witty commentary, even his voice is pleasantly resonant. I'm glad I finally got to hear it after reading good ol' Metallica Bryan's review of it who knows how long ago.

Quick quotes -
"It's a strange world of language in which skating on thin ice can get you into hot water." (just because I love language tricks like that)
---
"To be like Christ is to be a Christian." - I think Christianity would feel more accessible to me if it focused on something simple and concise like that, rather than allowing itself to fall into fundamentalist or ritualistic traps. That, and I think many a Christian over the centuries has forgotten that little tenet. But hey, who am I to judge?

I read an interesting thought last night; basically, that hearing is the only sense that we don't have to try harder to use - where you can adjust the muscles around your eye to focus better, you can't try harder to hear something. Instead, as the ears are passive sensory organs, you have to quiet your thoughts or move your attention away from your other sensory input to pay more attention to what is there regardless of what effort you make.

So, granted, you can try harder to see something with your eyes, and in a different sense you have to reach out to physically touch something, so I could see that argument. Ok, and yeah, you can physically sniff more to smell something better, and put something in your mouth to taste it. What about the subtler senses, though, like our sense of space or objects-in-space, or our sense of what's happening internally in our bodies (there's a medical term for that, I'll find it)? Are those passive and requiring of attention rather than effort (there's my vote), or are they more active senses?

      More randomness! Today, while stalking the wild and crazy bonsai tree in the Santa Rita mountains, I got to see an oddity. That is, just over a ridge was this sudden area of white. Apparently, amidst all the high-desert scrub of juniper in red-brown dirt and clay, (we learned this from a geologist) a bit of a different kind of material welled up from the ground at some point in the distant past, and kind of...well, popped or something. And voila - white clay! Which isn't horribly notable except for being a bit creepy in a hidden vale kind of way, but: there are these really twisted, stunted, strangely trunk'ed, and ancient trees growing in the little gullies and crags. It's just odd, as these are the kind of trees that really only grow in California, and there aren't any super-old (talking hundreds and even up to thousand year old trees, here) anywhere nearby. Just in the white clay. Yep. Weird.

      Also, the last full moon was fun, though I forgot to write about it till now. I went out for one of those getting-home-really-late walks, and after a bit realized the clouds were moving at a relatively break-neck speed. What was particularly interesting about this was that the moon was so bright that as the clouds moved past it, a kind of bright-dim-bright effect that you'd normally only see during the day with the sun was happening, which made for an odd very-dark-version-of-daytime feeling. Also, I noticed that the city lights were reflecting off the clouds to the south in a lovely rosy-orange way, and then I noticed that the clouds were moving along in this stately parade or river or basically in a a certain line across the sky. They didn't fill up the entirety of the dark, but were instead all travelling along the same current, and in that wind-current were moving fast and low enough that I could even watch the vapors change shape and form as they passe the moon. Good times.

Random Question of the Day - how did ancient people figure out which herbs and plants had medicinal properties? Did they just walk around trying stuff, or perhaps more intelligently foist them off on people they didn't like, maybe?

15 Hours, by Mitchel Scanlon. Ahh, beer and pretzel science fiction. It occurs to me that I should perhaps assign a particular beer to the book; alas, I'm drawing a blank at the moment, for this one. For the future, then. Anyhoo, compared to the likes of authors that normally write within the 40k shared setting, such as Dan Abnett, this novel isn't that great. It's not bad, it's certainly very short at any rate, so...it's okay. Okay is a good word for it.

A few things did pique my interest about it. One, it seemed a uniquely 'American' 40k story; I couldn't tell you why, perhaps something with starting in a kind of Midwest farm analogue, but I had forgotten how, well, 'British' most 40k stories are. Two, the chapter headers, which were quite funny in a very dry way. And three, the narration dips into these introspective moments, which form an interesting progression of the main character coming to terms with his situation, and as such (however sacrilegious this may sound to 40k fans) took on a yogic bent. And that, if I'm right about it, would be deeply ironic, and a credit to the author for slipping it in there.

Creepy fish - we'll go with another triad of comments: one, I would not want sashimi made of such, though I do very much like sashimi. Two, I find it cool that there is an "Underwater Times." Three, I am a bit disappointed they do not have a Page 3 Mermaids section. Sadness.

Random Unexpectedly Freudian Quote of the Day: "...our ego-feeling is only a shrunken residue of a much more inclusive, indeed an all-embracing, feeling which corresponded to a more intimate bond between the ego and the world around it." As that could just as easily come out of a meditation text, I long for the days back in lit. theory where we had someone fluent in German to check the standard 1950's WASPy translations.