29 March 2009

arapaho

Hey bartender bring me the ticket chopper
Single malt black whiskey and a virgin in the garden
I sail on a boat and my jewel box is broken
Deception and betrayal are ripe for the bargain
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho



Light yer spike with a candle
And a sailor will surely die
Facist vagabonds
Never look you in the eye
Nero fiddled in Rome as the fires burned all around
So I fiddle on the ocean as the stars are falling down
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho

Don't turn yer back on a writer
Don't lay yer hand on a drum
Don't look too long at the smoke on the water
Or the cat might get yer tongue

...

Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho

When in Analog Rome do as the Analog Romans do
Prop yer feet up on a demon and sip that mornin dew
Seven African powers, sawed off double barrel shotgun
Old fashioned crucifixion the kind my grandpappy done
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho

Don't turn yer back on a writer
Don't lay yer hand on a drum
Don't look too long at the smoke on the water
Or the cat might get yer tongue

...

Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho
Arapaho


---
from "Blood Of The Ram" (2004, The Gourds)
.
.
.
deep in a grinnin groove B

26 March 2009

a rising flood of ugly

The internet is great for spreading information, but it seems truly awful for spreading civility.

I say that based upon an experience just now of skimming through no fewer than a half dozen sites dedicated to pretty serious aspiring screenwriters. On every single one of these discussion sites -- every one, no exception -- I was turned off and chased away by the pervasive ugliness and nastiness I saw being spewed upon other contributors and posters.

I understand that pissy snark is the coin of the realm online. That to make any name for yourself in the seething hive of humanity swirling about in the virtual world you often are encouraged to try to be a bigger badder mofo than the the reigning champ. That you have to come in and challenge the local gunslinger to meet you in the street to pull leather against one another. It's the hyper-juvenile "my dick is bigger than yours" nonsense which at first blush makes the internet seem so charming and "pure" but which eventually winds up ruining the experience you first claimed to enjoy.

Someone praises something? Then shit all over it it. Mock it. Deride it. Spend two weeks hurling ad hominem attacks at the poor boob for having the gall to have a slightly different take on some trivial issue of zero relevance.

Someone disagrees with some arcane point in a discussion of yours? Well, then that paste-eating gaboon deserves to die, and so do his parents, and pets, and the OR staff which helped deliver him into this world, and so do his postman, his neighbors, and anyone sharing more than two common letters of his first name.

Someone manages to succeed at something you claim to have been aspiring to? Well, rather than redouble your own efforts, why not just hide behind an anonymous online handle and launch a slanderous campaign of lies, innuendo, and falsehoods to try and make this other person seem somehow unclean and undeserving.

Yeah, yeah, I enjoy some good natured smart assity as much as anyone. And yes I have on occasion crossed the line and moved from the world of "snark" into the world of "outright meanness" (and more often than anyone here would ever believe have then gone back and personally directly apologized when I've recognized this behavior). I'm not claiming to be without sin here. I'm just wondering if I am alone in wishing that there was less encouragement and reward to so frequently commit the same sin with such childish indifference.

As I said, the end result of all this is a sad and totally needless distancing of people who might well share 97% overlap on most views and interests and opinions and goals. Rather than enjoy the cool things we might share, it's easier and more dramatic to stir up a shit storm over some idiotic minor point of difference ("Lettuce goes OVER the meat!" ... "No, lettuce goes UNDER the meat, you inbred child-molesting jackass!"), especially in an online world where there is basically never any price to be paid or risk to be sweated.

Had a bad day at your unsatisfying real world job? Hey, rather than work to improve that real world situation, why not just hop online and shit on a stranger! It's easy and requires no investment of time or emotional capital! Share the misery! Make someone else tired and annoyed! Tearing up shit is far easier than exerting a few calories to fix shit, right? Sure! Let's all be pissed off little two year olds, throwing a tantrum and hurling our toys! "Make me happy or else I'm going to make you unhappy! Waaaaaah! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

More and more I look around and wonder if maybe there's not a more interesting and noble crowd to play with. I miss that feeling of excitement and hopefulness that I once got when I would hop online -- that flicker of optimism when I realized there were other people out there who were genuinely interested in interesting things, interesting ideas, interesting differences and comparisons and views and dreams and plans and successes and setbacks.

Somehow, a great many of those folks seem to have been replaced by bored chimps, all hell-bent on seeing who can hide in the trees and win the ribbon for hurling down the most or biggest turds at passing strangers.

And, no, that's not "a good thing."
.
.
.
thoroughly gruntled B

01 March 2009

remember this thing? I kinda do...

Just been a crazy hectic January and February, and blogging about the craziness just seems like it would have been another dollop of craziness atop a pile that was already half-sliding to the floor, so "sacrifices were made."

I've been told (by many people, for many decades) that I am prone to whining. I have no argument with that claim -- I know it's true -- but the funny thing about self-pitiful whining is how often you don't realize that it's happening until it's already been happening for long enough for you to have pissed off and bored those around you who might be useful for getting your backside back on track. At some point these friends look up from their own personal pile of poo and say "DUDE -- stop moaning. FIX something or shut up. You've been whining about this for months now."

Point taken, and apologies to those who are owed.

Time to refocus. Recalibrate. Re-load, recharge, and return the throttle to full combat power.

Once more into the breach, dear friends. Once more....
.
.
.

B