Ahhhh Spring!

The long nightmare is over. The days of overcast skies with no hope of warmth or sun, the days of snow, of ice, of freezing rain, the days of miserably crowding under blankets, the days of layers.

The long nightmare is over. Spring has come. For the past few weeks it was building. The faintest shimmering of green was beginning to emerge from under old, dead, withered stalks from last year. The pond grew green earlier, a premonition of what was to come everywhere. A cardinal appeared in our backyard and stuck around.

The long nightmare is over. I awoke this morning, and in my foggy morning mind I didn’t notice. The sun shone, but my brain didn’t make the connection. I pulled on my jeans and jacket as if I was bracing for the cold. The bus-ride was the same as it always is, and when I stepped off I was only beginning to think. Then I walked in the lab and saw my co-worker wearing shorts.

The long nightmare is over! I changed clothes. I had shorts in my desk drawer for basketball, so I changed clothes. I tossed my jacket aside, where hopefully it will remain unused for months.

The long nightmare is over!

A true story

(the following story is inspired by events that occurred to my brother-in-law on a recent trip to South America...I have taken the liberty to enhance the story, but the key event did in fact occur)

I opened the door and froze. There in the hallway, frozen in mid-stride, was a chicken. The little chicken's head turned, ever so slightly, one chicken-foot still dangling in mid-air. I looked at it, it looked at me. For another moment neither of us moved.

I considered my options briefly. Should I step back inside? Shoo the thing away? Act like it wasn't there? I wondered if the chicken was wondering the same things.

And then the bird continued walking, down the middle of the hallway. I closed my door and walked down the hallway in the opposite direction.

That night as I ate my grilled chicken sandwich, I smiled.

"I think the experience was awkward, for me and the chicken."

***************

And in other news:

The Epic of Gilgamesh.

Listened to that on tape today, apparently I never read this, for some reason I had it confused with the Song of Roland (I think that's what it is called).

Let's just say that after hearing the Epic of Gilgamesh I am strongly considering getting a tatoo of the cuneiform spelling of Enkidu. I don't think I've ever read/hear anything so old sound so good. I've been reading different English translations on the web...very good, although I like the Stephen Mitchell "New English Version" the best by far.

I'm with you Enkidu...

And this is me

In the last week I have read 1) Second Foundation (Asimov), 2) Foundation's Fear (Asimov), 3) Exultant (Stephan Baxter), the section in my science of cooking book entitled "A survey of common vegetables", and I listened to the history of cities on tape.

My brain is fried, but a good portion of that may be due to the fact that I was up until 5 in the morning last night working on Exultant and then I got up at 7 30. My brain is a weird fusion of asparagus, the rise of European pre-industrial cities (especially Amsterdam and Venice), an epic conflict between human and non-human, and the future history of galactic civilization. I'm no longer certain which book contained what, although I feel fairly confident saying that potatoes are not a key ingredient of spacetime that can be exploited for transportation purposes.

Meanwhile, in the real world, I probably will go to bed sorta early tonight.

Later

Car Envy

I'll admit it.

I'm not afraid.

I've got car-envy.

As you all probably realize, we're a 1 car household. We had a second car, but....well...Let's just say that it didn't work out. Looking back at that situation, I've learned a few things (I'm an idiot).

The idea of a 1 car household isn't far fetched, although it seems increasingly incomprehensible to most people I meet. I think this probably says more about the kinds of people I meet, than it does about the feasibility of a 1 car house. Most of the people I meet went to college, had their own car there, and even if they are now married and don't really need two cars, they've become accustomed to having separate cars.

I too had become accustomed to having a separate car from my wife. The last year I had my own car I went to work very early, picked up groceries on the way home, and usually had some kind of dinner made by the time my wife got off work. I would swing by other places on my way home, pick things up, just generally run errands.

At first the switch to one car wasn't that big a deal. Middle of last summer we decided to ditch the 'other' car, and went to 1 car full-time. I just hitched a ride on the bus, got home a little later, and eventually we just started eating out a little more often for dinner. Sure, I couldn't run the errands I used to run, but I didn't mind. If I reallyed need to get around in a hurry we could switch drivers for the day, and I'd have the car.

Along came the winter and things have changed. Waiting for the bus to pick me up near my house is always a disaster. I need to get a ride pretty early, and the heavy volume of commuters at that time makes the bus schedule a little dicey. Quite often the bus is 10, even 15 minutes late. Plus the sun doesn't come up as early as it did in the summer, so I ended up walking the two blocks to the bus stop and standing there for 20 minutes in the freezing cold and dark. You don't have to do that very often before it becomes a real chore to get up in the morning.

Ok, fine, I decided I'd just go to work later in the morning, and work more from home. That works out ok, actually, but I'm not as productive. When I was getting to work at 7, I was getting more done before 9 than I would get done the entire rest of the day. Now I'm working 8 hours to finish what was taking me 3-4. Now we've been trying to watch what we eat and not go out so much for dinners, and I find myself unable to swing by the store to pick up those last minute ingredients. I also find myself more exhausted from work (but that's another story).

So I started just riding to work with my wife, which is 10 minutes out of the way for her, and we're always wrestling with how early we leave to go to work. I'm wanting to go earlier, she's wanting to go later.

Now my good friend just picked up a new car, and it looks nice, and I'm thinking I need a vehicle again. We can probably afford buying something cheap, but who knows how that will turn out. Summer is approaching, and I thought about maybe just getting a little scooter (like a Honda Ruckus), but it seems like I could get a crummy little car to tool around in for a similar price, with less risk.

The reality is that summer is approaching again. And that means the difficulties of waiting for the bus are likely abating. The whole issue is probably becoming mute.

Nevertheless, here I sit, silently looking through classified ads and Ebay, thinking about a car.

Car envy.

I'm not afraid to admit it.

The Smell

It was, in a word, unholy.

It was putrid.

It was astonishing in its complexity of horrific.

I'm running out of adjectives.

It was baaaaad.

I'm describing, unfortunately, the smell that saturated my favorite Thai restaurant today as I awaited my carry-out order. The smell combined the twin Satanic vices of peanuts and fish juice. Two smells that, individually would have caused me to retch, now teamed up to create a noxious fume so potent that at first I didn't notice it. This was in much the same way that you don't notice right away when you touch something extremely hot or cold. Not that the signal is delayed reaching your brain, instead your nerves are so overwhelmed it takes a moment to sort it all out.

Awareness came in stages. First, there was the slow realization that I couldn't smell the drunken noodles that had walked by. Second, the customer asking whether she could get the peanut sauce on the side. Finally, the sudden dawning that a distinct fishiness was ubiquitous underneath all the other aromas. As this final awareness struck I envisioned myself expelling my earlier salad. A ridiculous awkwardness would ensue, inevitably leading to a loss of business for my friend the proprietor of this establishment. I wished him no ill will, and I did not doubt for a moment that the horrid, gut wrenching smell was a result not of bad cooking, but of a strange combination of individual orders all being prepared and consumed at the same time.

I doubted, for a moment, my resolve. For a split second I wasn't sure if I would be able to contain the projection of all my earlier consumption. I reasserted control by contemplating how many more weight watchers points I would have available if I did hurl. A suitably bizarre thought that returned me to control.

"I must go, I'll wait in the car."

That was all I could say. Outside the smell was hardly better. I had stood there too long. My jacket was saturated with it. I was reminded, vividly, of a certain Seinfield episode. Should I burn my clothes right now and stop the inevitable spread of The Smell.

I regained my composure in the fresh air a block away. The Smell was already dissipating. It was not a capitalized creature, but a simple odd combination of aromas. Clearly the smell was one for which the full extent of the horror could only be experienced by me. Other people in the restaurant were unaffected, even able to eat.

Three hours have passed, but the smell...Or rather the memory of it...have not faded. I can only hope that with time and therapy (lots of it) I'll be able to, someday, lead a normal life.


***********************

Other notes:

I still love this Thai restaurant, don't think otherwise, but if I'm ever in the direct presence of the substance known as "Fish Juice" again, I'm not responsible for my actions.

NBA:Ok...I'm an idiot. My whole Amare for KG argument yesterday was based (completely) on the idea that Amare wasn't coming back. Well, not only is he back, he posted a 20 and 7 in 20 minutes yesterday. Let's hope this is for real. If it is, well, let's just say that I don't see the Pistons winning more rings this year.

NBA MVP

Ok. The season isn’t over yet, but the NBA MVP candidates have separated themselves from the pack. Let’s be clear what’s in my criteria: Great individual talent, Great ability to make the team better, and Great representative of the game. There are really only 6 possibilities (sorry Chauncy, Pierce, Timmy and Tony Parker, but you aren’t in it):

Kobe Bryant: Robo-Bryant is, and I hate to say this, the best individual player in the game right now. Good for 35 points a night, a handful of assists and rebounds, and simply annoying the hell out of whoever he is defending. However, there are some fatal flaws in his game that no one seems to notice. Obviously he ignores his teammates, but he also takes a lot of stupid, stupid shots. This is a guy who has the speed and skill to shoot 60% from the field, but instead forces up crappy shots all game long. Anybody who can’t make his teammates better (and he has a lot more to work with than anyone acknowledges) and can’t choose his spots, is out. Plus this guy is a terrible ambassador for the game.

Dwayne Wade: The emerging super-candidate. In fact, I can’t really find any fault with his game. He’s a lethal scorer who doesn’t forget about his teammates, in fact he’s almost unwilling to take over games unless he needs to do so. He’s a decent defender. He is, without a doubt, the best player out of the LeBron draft. The Heat are winning games and he’s the reason. And as a representative of the game you couldn’t do any better. He is likeable, friendly, and he approaches the game the way football players do (which seems to be popular). My only complaint is that he hasn’t been this good all year, he’s emerging. But he’s young.

Dirk Nowitzki: With the decline of Shaq, Dirk has become the most difficult player to guard in the league. Other than Bruce Bowen, you can’t guard him with a little guy. Other than Robert Horry, you can’t guard him with a big. He helps his teammates and he’s aggressive (if incompetent) on defense. Plus his team wins big. Still, his defensive incompetence is colossal, his attitude towards Dampier and Terry in last year’s playoffs was pretty astounding, and he has yet to carry the team in a big way during the playoffs.

LeBron: Ok, so he’s good. Let’s be clear here. But I’m not convinced he’s Kevin Garnett’s equal, let alone the equal of Timmy, MJ or Shaq. He’s not a silky smooth player. If the three point line didn’t exist, I think he’d be a better PF. I watch him play and I get the feeling that this is what Elton Brand would look like if people had suggested he become a guard at a young age. Having said all that, he’s the young gun with the most potential. If he can develop a little more polish to his game, and get better on D, then I think he has the potential to be a modern-day Larry Bird or a scoring Scottie Pippen. Right now though, he isn’t as good as Dwayne Wade and he isn’t as clutch as Carmelo Anthony. And his teammates aren’t really any better because of him. If anything Drew Gooden is worse.

Elton Brand: Really good player, good guy, great ambassador, makes his teammates better, but he’s not that good yet. He’s a second tier talent (just below the Duncan and Shaqs of the world). He’s good but not that good.

Steve Nash: Makes his teammates better (see Boris Diaw, James Jones, Tim Thomas, Quentin Richardson, etc.), is an amazing offensive player (see Dallas series last year), and is a great ambassador of the game. The role of Nash in improving Amare Stoudamire’s game is grossly underreported. The question Bill Simmons asked was something like “If last year the Spurs could have picked one player on the Suns that couldn’t play during the series, do you really think it would have been Nash?” Of course he asked this after Amare had averaged something like 32 and 10 against the Spurs in the first couple of games. The reality is that Amare didn’t have a post game! Take Amare away from the Suns and they lose their best scoring presence, take Nash away from the Suns and nobody can score!

The real travesty here is that the Suns aren’t bringing Amare back this year. Nash is an old point guard. He is playing the best basketball of his career, and he’s not going to be able to do this for much longer. The Suns are throwing away what is probably one of 3-4 chances to win a title with Nash because they don’t want to risk the potential of Amare turning into a Tim Duncan level player. If I were the Suns I’d not just be working my ass off to get Amare back on the team, if he didn’t look like he was going to make it, I’d consider trading for someone who could help now! Why not swap Amare for KG at the trading deadline last week? Wouldn’t a KG-Marion-Diaw-Bell-Nash team win the whole freaking thing? This Suns team has another year after this, then the Nash effect will probably fade. He might still be a good point guard, but he’s only going to be able to play like this for another year (maybe 2). You’ve got to exploit those opportunities when they arrive. There’s a 20-30% chance that Amare isn’t coming back at full strength, but there’s an 80% chance he isn’t ever going to be as good as Duncan or Shaq.

Although, of course, I just found out that Amare is in fact coming back this year…so nevermind.

So who do I think is the MVP?

I said there were only 6 possibilities. Unless something changes drastically over the next couple of weeks of the season, the real race is between Steve Nash and Dwayne Wade. I’m leaning towards Nash, but part of that is because he’s come back so strong after winning it all last year. Dwayne Wade is probably a better player, but his early season play makes me hesitate.

At this point the answer has got to be Nash, but the season’s not over yet.

Waiting

Let’s be honest. Most of life is all about waiting. Not necessarily unproductive or boring waiting, but waiting nonetheless. I’m waiting to get out of graduate school, but before that I was waiting to get out of college, and before that I was waiting to get out of high school. I don’t need to get so grand though. A lot of waiting is much more mundane. Like, I’m waiting for the U of K to win the NCAA basketball championship. I’m waiting for my next chance to watch Rollergirls or South Park. I’ve probably spent a ridiculous amount of time waiting for video games to load. I’m waiting for some kind of inspiration that will guide me through this post. I hope I never get to the point where I’m waiting on death. Or rather, I hope I’ve got a really long time to wait. I’m also waiting on return of sanity to national government. Of course, just because you’re waiting doesn’t mean what you’re waiting for is going to happen. I mean, I’m also waiting for million dollar check in the mail, a 48-inch vertical leap and a killer 25 foot jumpshot. Sometimes if you wait too long, then what you eventually get doesn’t live up to expectations. One time I waited 45 minutes for a milkshake, but it ended up not being worth it. I’ve waited 30 minutes to get a seat in a restaurant, then I was so hungry I barely tasted anything. Quite often if you wait too long, you’ve missed some opportunity. If you wait too long to make guacamole, then your avocados will spoil. If Scarlett Johansson waits too long to do a nude scene, then she’s going to look like Judi Dench and nobody will care. Another frequent occurrence is not waiting long enough. One time I told somebody he was a jackass and he punched me, if I had waited five minutes he would have been out of earshot. If we had waited a week before going to see The Island we might have come to our senses.

What if we never had to wait on anything? I can imagine a world where our every whim was instantly available. Sort of a frightening thought, especially with hormone crazed teenagers out on the street. The country would probably be embarrassingly obese.

Hmmmm…..maybe that’s the problem?

Return

Well, I’m back home after my trip home. Strange, I know, but such is the terminology I choose to embrace.

Books on CD are great! I listened to “Skinny Dip” by Carl Haisson, a history of Islam, some collection of Dave Barry articles and Foundation by Isaac Asimov. I’ve got to say, the fusion of those different ideas has sparked me to write a story. Needless to say I’m not quite done with it yet, but I’m including a teaser at the end here.

Other stuff: Despite the sun, it is way too cold here. I’m moving south as soon as possible.

KU lost in the first round of the tournament again. Allow me to repeat my desire to see Bill Self on someone else’s sideline, and let’s see if KU can get Mark Turgeon (of WSU) to the KU bench.

All my officemates who follow basketball saw our teams lose in the first round. I’m not sure what crime we committed, but it must have been a bad one.

My buddy and I played Tiger Woods Golf on the XBOX at his house. Needless to say I was hooked. I bought it yesterday and I've finished three tournaments, winning two. I've only shot two rounds over 64.

And without any further annoying thoughts, I present to you a slight teaser of a story that as yet has no name.

**********

The room shuddered as it ripped across the vast distances between stars. The chairs squeaked in protest as the room stopped at a destination. A battered light illuminated the name of a planet. Some people got up and walked out, others walked in and sat down. The room shuddered again. The chairs squeaked, the light illuminated, and the process repeated.

“Yeah. No family. Worked for 30 years at the factory down on Dolores 7, got my pension. Retired at 50.” A man sitting in a corner was speaking, but it didn’t seem as if anyone much was listening. The cheapest form of modern mass transit, the Shudder was primarily frequented by people who lacked something. Usually money, but possibly they lacked a flight license or an untroubled mental state.

Same in every society, Regin thought to himself. The wealthy avoid the cheap mass transit, even if it works great.

And the Shudder did work great. The physics of the system was beyond all but the most brilliant minds, but the result was a cheap, easy way to transverse the galaxy. Truth be told, the simple presence of the Shudder had made the entire galaxy a pitifully small place. Where once different planets boasted unique, strange and beautiful cultures, now the Shudder deposited its passengers on homogenized cities. Massive, transgalactic franchises selling food, clothing and other goods gained footholds all along the Shudder routes. From the enormous profits gained from such footholds the corporations spread out across the planets. Economies of scale insured such a scheme was profitable, and therefore unstoppable. A small but vocal minority asserted that such corporations were destroying human culture, but then some people would oppose anything.

And I am going into the heart of that corporate monstrosity.

Regin’s homeworld, Kasaw, was a rich agricultural world. The land had been colonized by Scand settlers relatively recently. Prior to the arrival of the Scand, the planet had been inhabited by a host of tribal societies. Such neo-primitive cultures were a frequent occurrence throughout the galaxy. The wave of colonizing humans that had spread across the galaxy thousands of years previously had been unable to maintain contact. Tribal societies often developed following terraforming. When the Scand arrived from the T’Sew cluster with near infinite technology, the tribal cultures were either assimilated or eliminated. The resulting Kasaw culture was dominated by the Scand acceptance of technology, religious fervor, and almost blind acceptance of corporate propaganda.

The room shuddered again. Regin saw the battered light flash on again. Kasaw. In the heart of the vast T’Hron cluster, the most powerful home of the ideology first developed in T’Sew. An ideology that Regin Trauss had spent his life defending, but which he knew to be hollow.

As he exited the Shudder, Regin carried but a single bag. The passenger in the corner continued talking to himself, now lamenting his lack of a dog.

Forever

Yes yes, Two posts in one day and then nothing for over a week. I am weak!

The reason: Twofold, my wife has been working a lot, and therefore using the computer. That has severely cut down on my time to type creatively. The other reason is that I'm getting ready to leave town and head back home for a few days. So I've got to get everything done for that. Yay!

So, as an extra special treat, I'm including below a couple of scenes from the upcoming blockbuster play entitled "Random Dialog from a Used Bookstore in Britain." This really works best if you use your best British accent (or, if you actually are British, try it with an Aussie accent). I won't promise you Shakespeare, but I will promise that I wrote it.

Enjoy!
---------------------------

“I don’t suppose I could get my change?”

“I don’t suppose you could, I mean, I’m the one behind the register and you’re way over there.”

“…What?”

“Plus, you’re the customer. I’m the shop owner. I mean, it would hardly be appropriate if I just let people go about getting their own change.”

“Ok…Can you give me my change?”

“Oh! Right. I see. Here you go then, 3.74. Have a nice day!”

“….idiot.”

************************

s “Andy, would you mind closing up tonight?”

a “Yeah. I hate closing up, especially alone. I mean, this is a bookstore, didn’t you ever see Bottle Rocket?”

s “What? No one is going to rob us, we’re a used book store. We’ve got no money!”

r “Put your hands up bastards, this is a robbery!”

s “Oh bloody hell.”

a “See I told you it was dangerous!”

s “Shut up Andy! Look guys, we’re a used bookstore, we’ve got no bloody money!”

r “What do you mean you’ve got no money?”

s “I mean we’ve got no money. We mostly operate on credit.”

a “Maybe you’d just take some books? We’ve got an early edition of Kerou-“

s “Andy, shut up! No guy, I’m sorry, but we’ve got about thirty bucks in the register, go ahead and have it.”

R “Thirty bucks!”

S “Well, it was a slow day.”

A “Actually I thought we did real well today.”

S “Andy…please stop talking.”

A “No but really, I mean, we had three sales, including one of the five dollar books.”

R “Oh hell…..Oh..uh…wait. Did I say this was a robbery?”

A “Um…yes. Yes you did.”

S “Yeah, I think that’s what you said.”

R “Wow. I think you guys ought to get your hearing checked.”

A “Really? Why’s that?”

R “What I said was ‘Put your hands up bastards, this is a bobbery!”

S “A what?”

A “I think he said a bobbery?”

S “I know what he said, I’m just not sure that’s a word.”

A “Oh, of course it’s a word! It’s a noun…means a noisy disturbance…as in ‘To raise a bobbery’. Probably some kind of Hindi descentent.”

S “You’re making that up!”

A “Oh no I’m not. Perfectly good dictionary up there behind you.”

S “What, the Websters! Oh dear god, what do I look like..a kindergardener? Did you ever see this fancy word in a grown-up’s book?”

A “Look, just ask this guy what he meant, I bet it was exactly what I said.”

S “Hey, where did he go?”

A “Don’t go changing the subject!”

S “No but seriously, I think the robbery is over.”

A “Damnit. The word’s bobbery, and there wasn’t much of one to start.”

****************

S “Good morning M’am!”

M “Good morning.”

A “Hey boss, have we got any more Louis L’more books?”

S “We’ve got three shelves of them.”

A “Well, this guy thinks we’re missing some key volumes.”

S “Really? Like what?”

A “Apparently his latest release. A 1998 book called Desperate.”

S “1998? I’m pretty sure he died in 1988.”

A “What? Really?”

S “Yeah.”

A “How do you know that?”

S “Uh. I think I must have just read it somewhere.”

A “You’re not fooling anyone. You’re a Louis L’Amour fan aren’t you!”

S “No, of course not.”

A “No shame it in it.”

S “I’m not a fan.”

A “I mean the man sold millions of copies of his books.”

S “Commercial success doesn’t equal talent.”

A “’course not. Redefined the genre, practically invented the genre actually.”

S “Well…yes. He did.

A “I mean, I’m not a die hard fan like yourself, but I certainly can appreciate him.”

S “…Well.”

A “Certainly a reason why all these books got published.”

S “Yes. Well, I might have read a few-“
A “I knew it!”

S “Wait-“

A “A Louis L’Amour fan…My own boss.”

S “No, no, no, I-“

A “Owns his own bookstore even.”

S “That’s not true, viscious lie.”
A “Hahahaha.”

S “Look, why don’t you go tell the customer that book must be by someone else.”

A “Oh, there was no customer.”

S “Wait. What?”

A “No customer. Made it all up just to hear you admit your dirty little secret.”

S “But how did you know to pick a date after 1988?”

A “…uh.”

S “You’re a fan!”

A “No, no no. Of course not.”

S “Oh just admit it.”

A “Well…”

S “That’s what I thought.”

A “Well.”

S “Well.”

A “So….which book is your favorite?”