I would never want to be part of a club that would have me as a member...or something. But some night years ago when I had a bit of free time I got it into my head to attempt socializing again and found a Yahoo! group for Bronx pagans.
This is not going to be as interesting as you may think.
See, I'm all, "Yay trees!" and having shared my life with many many cats and dogs and birds and fish and a more than a few moths and the occasional lady beetle, I dig the whole idea that everything is all magical and has a purpose and the moon is awesome and I've stood outside in 20°F below to catch eclipses and although I can't be around candles, if you've seen Cold Comfort Farm or Labyrinth you have some idea of what I was like as a teenager.
Surely fellow neo-Pagan Bronxites would welcome the n00b and tell me cool stuff like exactly what herb I needed to eat so I'd stop falling over every few weeks. Or at least let me swap tarot readings. Maybe let me run my book idea past them.
The Yahoo! group in question, though, like the puppy training group, had a little test at the door as it were before you could just pop in and lurk, which is generally all I ever did before one Jek Porkins crossed my path.
The letter ended with "BB."
Now, I *know* what that means. Normally. It's not necessarily something I end my messages with, because I don't know what people I write to dig and don't want to freak them out. I know they don't dig outros like, "I would kill for you, man," but I know what BB means and it...isn't a name.
It was late. I was probably not feeling right at the time. I wrote back without hesitation. Which, if you've ever corresponded with me, you realize is not good.
"Hi BB," blah blah blah blah never heard back because I was gotten at the first gotcha.
It's like when I went for the job at the photo store, and they asked me what resolution my video camera was. Keep in mind I was 15 and had a VHS camcorder. You tell me what the resolution of a VHS camcorder is. I don't like smart asses.
I do like videotaping eclipses, though. I miss the lunar eclipses we used to get in the late '90s. Those were good times. The next one visible to this area happens a few days after my birthday...in 2010. That's saying the weather is good.
This is why I started taking pictures of clouds. Clouds are easy.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
How I Failed At Joining A Coven
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Songs of My Misspent Youth: Hourglass
By now you're probably wondering why I keep going back to 1987 like it's the well of misspent time. I turned thirteen that year, and if you've ever turned thirteen, you may have some idea of why it was such a messed up time in my head. That's too vague, however, so I'll point you to Hourglass by Squeeze and say 1987 was the year I realized I seemed to be moving slower than everyone around me.
It is still occasionally 1987, that's how slow my body is on following through with what my brain is doing. But while I'll never be in a band and I'll never miss the scenery while running through theme parks, stores and whatever that place with all the boats is called, I'm okay with it, and this song is part of the reason why. I could sing the chorus! Who else can do that? Other than Difford and Tilbrook...and other fans of Squeeze.... Hey, I never met anyone else who could do it therefore I have one thing that was unique. Until I lost my voice. But that wouldn't happen for another three years, so my biggest issue was that I couldn't read music as fast as everyone else. Oh boo hoo. One day I'd be like, hey, I'm on the floor, can I have a glass of water? But that's beside the point. No, actually it's not, because while I was lying on the ground unable to do more than flail one arm and cough, my brain was doing advanced calculus and quoting movies and lyrics while coming up with ways to catch up on all the work I was going to be behind on and wondering if I there were any centipedes behind me.
In other words, I totally identified with the words to this song when it came out and I still totally identify with it now. Also, the video was directed by Adrian Edmondson! If you're a fan of British comedy I don't need to tell you who that is. Do I? Bottom? Comic Strip Presents? The Young Ones?! Yes, Vyvyan.
You know what? Since Universal music wants to deprive little girls of embedding Squeeze videos in their drag down memory lane, here's another video involving Ade Edmondson that would eventually save me from death by *headdesk*.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Crap Mariner
The creator of 100 Word Stories is an amazing storyteller. He says he'll write one story a day until he dies, and I hope he has a lot more stories in him.
The theme for this week's challenge was Forty, because that's how many years Crap Mariner's had to put up with the fleshy humans. Knowing this didn't help me write a better story, in fact I went through a record number of rejected takes on this before my inner emcee took over and turned a character based on the man who made me read my own stories again into...King Kong? Hey, I liked King Kong and thought the humans just out for entertainment who didn't expect Kong to be himself deserved to be shaken up.
Come one, come all, gather 'round and see the clockwork kid, the wonder of the modern age! Built by robots on a faraway island forty years ago, a group of opportunistic pirates couldn't let a good thing go to waste so they brought him here, to entertain you! Wind him up and he'll weave you a unique tale guaranteed to blow your mind!
You’ll be dazzled by his wit! You’ll marvel as he interacts with the fiercest of jungle cats! You’ll drool over his delicious bread!
Run, don’t walk! Don't even wait for the bus! Witness the magnificent clockwork kid!
The whole party can be read and heard here, and you really ought to have podcasting.isfullofcrap.com in your RSS reader by now.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Last Chance To See
Several years ago I made a website, or rather my late alter ego made a website. It was called Darth Gumby: I sense a disturbance in my brain. Clicking on that link will take you to the proper official page, which in a few weeks will be all that is left.
There was a mirror site, see. A Geocities mirror. Which, along with every other Geocities site, is about to be taken down.
Yes, Geocities is going away. If you know any Geocities sites you liked, you better go save what you can. Hint, hint.
DarthGumby.cjb.net points to the site that won't be going away, so you don't really need to go laying flowers on the mousepad for anything but The Twelve Days of Star Wars and the guestbook.
The guestbook hurts. I love the people who signed it, and while I have about three hundred copies saved on various media, the Internet is supposed to be the immortal repository of all forever and ever and you kinda suck for shutting it down, Yahoo!
The other thing that will be going, never to return, is a decade-old Star Wars Chistmas special of sorts that starts like this:
Yes, I was that twisted once.
My Darth Gumby is mostly dead, so I'm not going to save The Twelve Days Of Star Wars. In a few weeks, there will only be the Netcom page saying I plan to turn it into Flash one day. I did convert it to Flash, mind you, but the file was so large it wasn't worth the load time to watch what was once called a waste of forty minutes by someone who didn't even bother to sign the guestbook.
So that's that's that. The Darth Gumby Geocities mirror is going away, everything but The Twelve Days Of Star Wars will still be available on the Netcom page, and I'll miss the guestbook most of all. There's also a Lynda_N page which, much like its author, did not reach its full potential and is very nearly not worth mentioning.
As a side note, darthgumby.blogspot.com now points to a blog by someone else, someone I don't know beyond the blog but totally enjoy reading. I'm glad the address went to someone I think is a good writer and who I happen to agree with on several things. If anyone is looking for my original blog, Inane Ramblings of a Porkinite, it's...at that link right there. If the text disappears when you mouseover, don't mouseover. It's another site which will never be updated again because fiddling with the past is pointless and I wouldn't have appreciated myself doing it unless there was something better than perspective to offer.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Songs of My Misspent Youth: I Just Called To Say I Love You
Did I ever tell the story about how I damn near chopped my finger off? This week it'll be twenty-five years since I sat on a lawn chair that had been improperly set up by the parent whose name I did not keep and...felt something I guess I never really forgot.
I was nine years old at the time, and so little things like my dog Pookie being the only one to come running to my rescue and the song that happened to be on when I dragged my injured hand back into the house like Luke Skywalker on a good day stick in my head more vividly than what I ate for breakfast yesterday.
The song was I Just Called To Say I Love You by Stevie Wonder, and only two years later I'd be bitching about how wacky the Bb chord sounded when I played it. I play the piano, you know. The finger that I had to wrap up like a Twinkie until the nail grew out enough for me to pull off by myself gives me trouble, but I don't mind it so much anymore. I don't think it was broken, but to this day the joint sort of aches like it's saying, "Hi, remember when you pulled that nail off and was all 'I can see the nail polish from THIS SIDE' and it took forever but that dog was awesome." Or something. Pookie was also the only one to sit in every day as I learned to play this song.
There was a wicked remix of this song where Stevie sang like a robot and Z-100 used to play it all the time. It's like a metaphor for how much more there is to the story. Like the part where I couldn't listen to the song for years, but that part's no fun.
What is fun is that my main concern the night I crushed my fingertip was whether I'd be able to work the VCR remote to tape V: The Series. Next month, there's a new V coming to TV and I doubt I'll be using the remote to find it. LIFE IS WEIRD. I wouldn't change a second of it, though. Although I guess I'd tone down the whining about my finger while Stevie Wonder is blind.