The Only Thing I Hate Worse than a Dilemma is a Conundrum

Let's see... I spent the week working on 4 different projects. Joe was out sick again and Clarence had to fill in for him. My roommate still owes me $640. My TV is still broken and the repairman hasn't figured out what's wrong with it yet.

I suppose "life" remains better than the alternative, but I can't figure out exactly why.

Et tu, Pompeii?

I went to the Pompeii exhibit ("A Day in Pompeii") at the SDNHM yesterday. It was small, but fascinating. I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger over the many small, intricate artifacts. Then the thought occured to me:

In 2000 years, museums will be displaying items dug up for "A Day in San Diego." Sadly, the junk that they put on display (iPods, computers, HDTVs) will all lead the scientists to conclude that our civilization was a backwater colony of China.

Lamest Movie Catch Phrase--EVER

I was just looking at an ad for the new movie, Shutter. The catch phrase at the bottom of the ad said: "The most terrifying images are the ones that are real."

Gee, no kidding? Man, I thought that pointilliste watercolor of a bear eating a man was SO much more frightening than a videotape of the same thing!

Has our society truly hit the rock bottom of banality? Even more ironic and stupid, of course, is the fact that Shutter is a *movie* and nothing depicted in it is real...

*sigh*

And while that crap clogs the collective cloaca of movie theaters, why can’t the Mira Mesa theater host In Bruges? Looks like I have to go to Hillcrest to see it.

New LOST theories

So, I was watching LOST tonight, and suddenly had an epiphany. Here’s some of what I think is going on.

1. There are three groups involved in the battle for control of the island. Group 1: the "Hostiles, aka "Others." These are the aboriginal people, probably descended from the crew of the Black Rock, who remained on the island after the shipwreck. Some of those characters, like Richard, probably ARE members of the Black Rock crew, as is/was Jacob the Invisible.

2. Group 2: The DHARMA Initiative. We now know that the Hanso family, who funded the initiative, are descended from the Hanso who wrote the Black Rock’s log that was auctioned off to Charles Widmore. Alvar Hanso probably knew about the island, and deliberately placed the DHARMA group there to research its phenomena.

3. Charles Widmore. Widmore owns Widmore Pharmaceuticals, and he wants the power of the island for his own profit.

Now, the Losties are Group 4. It seems, from the flash forwards, that many of them stayed behind, and only 6 left for the mainland. My guess: the final episode of LOST will conclude with the Oceanic 6 returning to the island and reuniting with the rest of the castaways.

So anyway, here’s my BIG epiphany, which suddenly dawned on me tonight while watching Jin’s flashback and Sun’s flash forward. EVERYONE ON THE ISLAND is "unstuck" in time. Some, like Desmond, have become aware of it. Others are experiencing the same phenomenon, but are not (yet) self-aware. I’ve always wondered why the writers chose to tell the story via flashbacks (and no flash forwards). Flashbacks are normally static, and don’t propel a story forward. They just backfill. And yet, LOST does progress, because it’s essentially a mystery, and the revelations drive the mystery.

Time passes "differently" on the island. The island is out of synch with the local universe. The passengers on 815 are now experiencing, in each episode, what Star Trek once called Amok Time.

More later.

2008 Republican Convention Schedule

6:00 pm Mike Huckabee Salutes Confederate Flag
6:15 pm Group Hug and Cross Burning
6:20 pm Ann Coulter Bares Adam's Apple
7:00 pm OPENING REMARKS: "HONESTY IN GOVERNMENT" - Randy "Duke" Cunningham
7:25 pm Log Cabin Republicans Induct Sen. Larry Craig into Stall of Fame
7:45 pm CEREMONIAL LIGHTING OF COAL FIRED POWER PLANT
7:55 pm Rush Limbaugh Lecture: "Anal Poisoning and John McCain"
8:00 pm John McCain leads convention in rousing chorus of "Bomb, Bomb, Bomb, Bomb Bomb Iran."
8:10 pm "Why All Scientists Are Wrong," Talk Given Posthumously from Hell by Jerry Fallwell and Grand Inquisitor
8:15 pm Rick Santorum Addresses Convention: "The Secret Man on Dog Agenda."
8:35 pm George W. Bush re-ups for the National Guard
8:40 pm Ronald Reagan's corpse re-animated, still can't remember Iran-Contra
9.00 pm MEMORIAL SERVICE FOR BILL OF RIGHTS
10:00 pm WARRENTLESS WIRETAPPING ETIQUETTE – Alberto Gonzales
11:00 pm BILL O'REILLY SALUTES HOMELESS VETS
11:05 pm COLLECTION FOR CHILDREN WITHOUT HEALTH INSURANCE
11:15 pm Keynote Speech: "Why We Fight," by Fred Thompson
11:30 pm National Proclamation by the President: "Nucular Is Now an Official Word"
11:45 pm Glenn Beck Kicks Keith Olbermann onto Subway Tracks
11:50 pm "Abstinence Only Education, Do As I Say, Not As I Do," by David Vitter
12:15 am TRUTH IN BROADCASTING AWARD - Presented to Rush Limbaugh by Animatronic Joseph Goebbels
12:20 am Ceremonial Assassination of Foreign President by Pat "Ninja" Robertson
12:25 am Ann Coulter French Kisses Lynne Cheney in Ladies Room
12:30 am SATELLITE ADDRESS – Dick Cheney, live from Secret Bunker
12:45 am NOMINATION OF JOHN MCCAIN – Swiftboat Veterans
1:00 am Laura Bush Hands Out Free Xanax
1:05 am "Reagan Republicans" Mass Mooning of John McCain
1:30 am Reagan Reanimated Corpse Proposes a Toast: "To the Youth of America"
1:40 am Closing Remarks: "Why Strom Thurmond Was Better than Harry Truman," by Tom "Hammer" Delay
1:50 am George W. Bush Celebrates End of Term in Cloud of Suspicious White Powder

Clobberfield

A few thoughts on the movie, Cloverfield, which I took in at the local Regal Cinema Sunday night.

As is well known by now, the film gives a new take on the classic "monster rampages through Tokyo" motif by changing the setting to New York City and using the device of the first-person Handycam point of view.

The discerning viewer could easily sense the hand of LOST producer JJ Abrams in the characterization, theme, and plot twists. For example, Rob, the protagonist, fit the role of angst-ridden overachiever, much as Jack does in LOST. Likewise, Hud (who operates the camera throughout most of the film) was quite similar to LOST's rotund clown, Hurley.

Another aspect borrowed from LOST was the thematic relationship of the characters to the Unknown--unkown with a capital U. Throughout most of the film, the characters are running around, quite literally "lost," and not knowing who to turn to, where to seek help, or exactly what the thing is that's confronting them.

Much has been made of the similarities to 9/11. This is true, and when you think about it, the device makes sense. What was the most scary aspect of 9/11 (besides the president's rendition of "My Pet Goat" while the country was under attack)? The most frightening thing was fear of the unknown--those first crazy hours when we didn't know what had hit those buildings in New York and Washington, or why. Were more attacks imminent? Who among us did not cast a fearful and watchful eye at the sky that day?

Fleeting glimpses of the monster and buildings falling over seemingly without a force behind them, as well as the bugs skittering in the dark, evoked terror and awe much more effectively than, say, Peter Jackson's inartful clobbering of the viewer with monster after monster in King Kong.

Oddly, the critics summarized the film along the lines of "Godzilla for the Youtube generation." Yet, at the end of the movie, the film was booed by a sizeable number of teenage boys, who apparently couldn't grasp its deeper archetype. Fans of classic horror movies like me appreciated the film's cunning references, which were mentioned during the closing credits, including Them and The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms.

I guess the kiddies got flustered because there was no clear resolution to the film, although resolution came suddenly and agonizingly to its four principal characters. That's another idea related to LOST: in art, as in life, resolution is often shrouded in a fog of ambiguity.

New Bush Coins

Thanks to Keith Olbermann for bringing this to broader public attention:

Trois choses dont je me rappelle (auprès de toi)

Celle qui sent des roses
quand je la
serre dans mes bras

Les boucles de ses cheveux
couleur de bronze qui touchent doucement ses
épaules au cours de mes caresses ardentes

Le sourire Stellaire qui
fait des étincelles inoubliables dans
le ciel et mon coeur

Small Disasters, Part II

The train ride to Seattle was full of bounces and jolts. The view of passing scenery outside my room's window varied from small towns to farmland to forested mountains. Because the ride took over thirty hours, we slept in our quarters not long after dark, which occured somewhere around Oakland.

The thing about the American trains is they are distinctly low-tech. Our sleeper car was constructed by the Canadian Bombardier corporation in the 70s. There's no wifi, and cell phones function sporadically. TV or music in your room? Forget about it... Unless you bring your own. There was something called a Dig-E-Player available for rent, but I didn't bother with it. The true entertainment was constantly rolling by outside my window.

There are some nice touches on the train. The sleeper car connects to a dining car, a view car, a lounge car, and a parlour car. Harold really enjoyed the view car. I was glad I got the "handicapped discount" on my tickets, because I couldn't access any of those cars. To get out of the sleeper car, you have to climb a stairwell and cross a tube into the next car. Harold told me that the floor of that tube goes up, down and sideways like a funhouse. Definitely not wheelchair-friendly.

Nevertheless, I found the Amtrak staff to be friendly and helpful. Olga, our attendant, furnished me with food, made the beds, and brought the morning paper each day. The food varied from omelettes for breakfast, to hamburgers for lunch and salmon for dinner. Overall, I'd rate the cuisine onboard as far superior to airline food, because it's cooked fresh in the train's kitchen. It's about on a par with the offerings at a chain restaurant like Denny's.

In the afternoons, around 3:00pm, the staff holds a wine tasting event that is free for all sleeper car passengers. Olga was very concientious in bringing me the wine, cheese and crackers.

We passed through some big cities, probably the largest being Portland, Oregon. I thought the cityscape was fascinating, with its industrial demeanor. Harold found it ugly. I had a hard time convincing him to take pictures of the downtown area.

We arrived at Seattle around 10:30 Saturday night. The bus to Vancouver was scheduled to depart at 11:00. When Harold and I got to the bus, people were already boarding. We met the bus driver and he took a quizzical look at my chair. "Uh, we don't have a lift, eh?"

"What?" I asked. Some dialog with the driver ensued, in which we discovered Amtrak somehow missed the fact my ticket was marked for disabled access. After some conversations with the Amtrak station manager at Seattle, we agreed to stay overnight and travel by train the next day.

So, there we were at midnight, the only folks in Seattle's King St. Station, except for the manager and some homeless guy picking through trash. The manager agreed to put us up at the local Holiday Inn Express, but there was another problem. No disabled-transit buses were available that late at night. In desperation, the Amtrak manager convinced the on-call supervisor of the local paratransit agency to transport us to the hotel, at 2:00am.

By the time we rolled into the Holiday Inn, it was almost pointless to try to sleep. We scheduled bus pickup at 5:30am and bagged our three hours of z's. It makes me yawn just thinking about it.

The good thing, though, was we got to travel by train to Vancouver at 7:30 in the morning. The train follows the coast, and the conductor--well versed in local lore of the route--filled us in on the scenery's attributes. One of the main facts he noted on the trip through rural Washington was the dilapidated family farms along the tracks. Corporate farming has ruined the family farms, which are falling into elegant ruin as the countryside reclaims its own territort. I somehow knew how the Romans must have felt, traveling along their dilapidated highways in the Fourth Century, gazing at deserted villas and fallen temples.

We finally arrived at Vancouver's Amtrak/Bus station around 10:30 that morning. The weather reminded me of San Diego in late November or December: cool (low 60s), with bright sunlight glinting off the windows and sidewalks. One feature of Vancouver I'll always remember with fondness is that bright, sunny, fresh feel to the air. San Diego is a city a lot like Vancouver in many ways, but where we have dust and smog, they have bright blue skies and clean breezes. Yes--it does rain (about 4.5 feet a year), but so what? I'd love more rain at home.

Vancouver is quite unique in that about 25% of the taxis are accessible. "Handicapable" as Stellar might call them. So, we called a taxi from my cell phone, and it arrived about a half-hour later. Most of the taxi drivers in Vancouver are Indian or Middle Eastern. It's really cool to be picked up by one of the Sikh drivers, who look like they came straight out of the era of the Raj.

Our hotel was conveniently located in central Vancouver. It was close to downtown, if not quite in downtown. Kind of like renting a room in Hillcrest or Mission Valley, if you visit San Diego.

More on the week in Vancouver, next installment.

-- David

Life Is a Series of Small Disasters--Some Beneficial

Life is a Series of Small Disasters--Some Beneficial

"Life is a series of small disasters, some beneficial." That's a saying I came up with, but you can quote me if you'd like....

My recent train trip to Vancouver serves as an example. Whenever you travel, there is stress. No matter how much you plan (and there's rarely any such thing as over-planning), stuff goes wrong. If you can't handle the stress of travel, you may not be able to survive the speed bumps in life's road.

For example, when Harold and I went to get on the bus at the Santa Fe depot in San Diego, the lift didn't work. Here I was, bouncing up and down the side of a bus on a rickety platform, gazing through the door at the saucer-wide eyes of a huge black man sitting in the seat across from me. "It's going to be a long fall and a short trip" I told him.

Finally, we got on the bus and rode to LA's Union Station. The bus driver dropped us off at a sidewalk across the street from the station, in downtown Los Angeles, where Harold and I hardly ever go. Then we had to scrabble with our luggage in tow, find an elevator, figure out which floor the train depot resided on, and find our train.

The interesting thing about Union Station is that unlike an airport, there is no clear direction about where to go or what to do to catch your train. At airports, you know if you're on a Southwest flight to take the hallway to the Southwest terminal, or if Delta, to head to Delta's terminal. At the train station, it's ALL Amtrak! There is no "there" there--just people milling around, mostly rushing off to some unknown destination, or dazedly staring into space.

We asked for help at the Information Booth, but other than telling us to "head down the hallway," the data-giver wasn't very helpful. As Harold wandered aimlessly trying to locate the ramp to our train, I found two Amtrak ticket agents seated at card tables near the hallway. One of them was very friendly and responded to my questions with clear answers. Yay! We were almost on our way. If I had panicked, or shrunken confusedly into my shell, we might never have caught Train 14 to Seattle.

Finally, when boarding is announced, the crowd sprints in unison toward the ramp for the train, which is down an immense hallway. We took Ramp 10, which had an A and a B side. Which were we? A or B? Well, I figured the best way to find out was to just choose an arbitrary side and start climbing.

At the top, there were two trains next to tracks. No sign points to "Train 14." So I just went up to people in line and polled them. "Excuse me ma'am, is this Train 14?" A gray-haired lady with pearl glasses looked quizzically down at her own tickets, then glanced at me, then back to the train and smiled shyly. "Why, yes I hope so," she said.

A few more people down the line, and I figured out we were indeed on the right track (literally), and found a conductor who pointed us "way down there" to a sleeper car. The first sleeper car I rolled up to had no ramp. I asked the attendant, who cheerfully told me "it's the next one."

Now, the thing about Amtrak trains is, they are HUGE. You literally cannot see one end of the train from the other. So I just went in the direction the attendant pointed to, till I saw a heavy-set Hispanic woman standing beside a ramp and an open hatch. "Is this the handicapped-accessible sleeper car?" I pleaded?

"Yes it is," smiled the attendant. "My name is Olga, and I'm your attendant. Just go on in and head to the right." With a shove from Harold, I got the chair propelled up the rather steep metal ramp and up into the train.

"Whew!" We made it at last, I thought to myself, as Harold and I settled into our room, which incidentally was smaller than most walk-in closets in a modern suburban McMansion.

-- More on the trip later

David

Soar: for Stellar

-- Soar --

You are
not loveless.
Some say love
doesn't come

In the
form we seek,
But love
of someone

Nearby
cradles us
When we
least notice.

Love is
eternal though
We are
finite beings

That touch
of eternal grace
Makes us
like angels....

If you
have wings to
Fly, soar
skyward on

Tradewinds
raised higher
By this
beating heart.

Greetings from Vancouver!

Greetings from Vancouver!

Well, my week in British Columbia is almost complete. I will be boarding the bus for Seattle on Saturday. What a great time; I love it up here.

Today Harold and I took the BC Ferry to Vancouver Island. Quite the adventure!! We didn't have a lot of time, but we walked around beautiful Victoria and took Afternoon Tea in the stately Empress Hotel, appropriately named in honour of Queen Victoria, who once sojourned there. Other famous people who stayed there are FDR, John Wayne (quite often), and Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip. I'd love to spend a few days exploring this Victorian gem—maybe after my refugee status is approved, lol.

After 51 years, I finally found a city that suits me to a tee—the weather is sunny but not hot, or it's cool and cloudy with rain, the people are young, artistic and educated, there is free universal healthcare and they all HATE Bush! :-p

Love to all my friends--especially Monica and <3 Stellar

PS: I started a new Vancouver album on MySpace and will soon be posting more pics to it.

Traveling North in Autumn

Traveling North in Autumn

Wherever I go
They will not follow
Wherever I stay
They shall not be

Whatever I seek
They cannot see
Whatever I want
They cannot buy

I look out the window
And see a field of glass
A star with no light
A forest with no trees

Wherever I go
They follow me
Wherever I stay
They abide in me

Raise your hand in the night
And count the stars on your fingers
Touch the shimmering lights
Blow out the candles

I look out your window
And see a face of glass
A sun with no warmth
A sea without waves

Wherever I go
They follow me
Wherever I stay
They dwell beside me

To Stellar--till We Meet Again

A la fée des lumières

On aime L'Etoile qui brille
comme l'éclair parmiles constellations de l'esprit.
Mais l'étoile brille pour lui?

To the Faery of Lights

He loves the star that shines
Like lightning
Among the constellations of the spirit
But does the Star shine for him?

One somber knight, wandering alone
The Path of Aimless Thoughts
The Faery of Lights came to him
Glowing stellar, she touched him with her wings

And danced around his body
Like a hummingbird seeking nectar
With each soft stroke
An electric chill sang through his body

Exalted
"Do not fear," she told him.
"I will guide thee--rest me in your palm
And walk free."

Faery and Knight found a path past midnight
Forests where dandelion chimeras devoured them
With ravenous yellow eyes
When they came to a crossroads, she leapt from his hand

And flittered about his face
Closing fay lips to his
"Go there, fair knight," she pointed
"First star to the right"

Where the moon glowed upon a lily trail
"Come back to me," she whispered
And fled the knight that night
Till suns rose over village roofs

Now under every milky moonlit canopy
He returns to the forest seeking that gloaming grove
Where the Faery of Lights awaits her love
With only a star to guide him.

Soft Genocide

I found a worthwhile article in the newspaper a few days ago (yes, I do still read the papers!), stating that the obesity epidemic is worsening in the US, and some states are approaching 33% obesity rates. Mississipi, the fatest state in the nation, will breech the 50% mark within the next decade.

Although all races and ethnic groups are gaining girth, it's the dirt-poor and minority areas that are gaining the most, the fastest. Why is that? Economic factors and political ones.

• Lousy or non-existent health care
• Poor diets, rich in fat and sodium. Supermarkets flee the ghettos and small towns, and the locals are forced to feed athe McDonald's KFC trough.
• Lack of exercise. Like my round nurse Clarence, they drive if they have to walk 10 feet. Then when they do exit their cars they climb into one of those fat-people scooters.

So, what's the uptake? Kill off the troglodytes. When they're too sick to shop at Wal-Mart or even work there, the country has no more use for them.

If Today Was Tomorrow....

Today should have been a great day, but it fell into the porcelain fixture. Harold's been away with my van all day (he took it last night) and hasn't brought it back yet. Now, it's 7:40 and the day is shot.

The temperature got up to 90 degrees at Miramar, and there were thunderstorms and flash floods as close as Escondido, but nothing reached Mira Mesa. I wish it had, a good storm would wake up the neighborhood and cleanse the sidewalks.

Would I remember today? Probably not, which is why I'm writing it down anyway. Sometimes you have to set the crappy days down on paper too.

On the good side, my trip planning is proceeding, and I should finalize affairs tomorrow with the travel agent, Chris, of Flying Wheels Travel. Let's keep our fingers crossed!
David

INLAND EMPIRE

Welcome to the Bunny World.

Laura and the Bunnymen

Laura and the Bunnymen

Last weekend I rushed to my local Best Buy and purchased David Lynch's new masterpiece, "Inland Empire." The film comes on a 2-DVD set. The first DVD holds the film, and the second is packed with extra footage and some rambling narratives by Lynch.

I can't praise this film enough. A lot of viewers, minds dulled by Hollywood pablum, try to figure out what the film is "about." But it is about many things: can the universe be about something? I prefer the Italian title of the movie: "Empire of the Mind." For the inner universe converges upon the outer one, and eventually you have to ask yourself, "If today was tomorrow, would I remember it?"

Lynch combines Dada and Surrealism into a seamless garment of videotape. He is Dali; he is Escher; he is Magritte.

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe." This is not a pipe--"The Treason of Images."

Murderers, Thieves, Traitors

So, I went to Walmart at 10:00 PM last night to buy some emergency CD labels for my printer. This was the first time I ever set foot in the store, and I swore after I was finished, I'd never go back. The only reason I went there was because Fry's and Best Buy were closed, and I needed CD labels for a client's print job.

I swear, I have personally given witness to the Decline and Fall of the American Empire. The ghost of Edward Gibbon is down in Hades co-writing the book with Beetlejuice and the tormented soul of Prescott Bush.

There are two places in this world you do not want to go to find hot chicks: 1) Denny's and 2) Walmart. I saw more toothless hags than Fantasia's Night on Bald Mountain, and they all sported Walmart name tags on their black polo shirts. The store is Tweaker Heaven, or where old homeless folks go to die. Leaving the store as fast as I could, I drove home and hit the shower.

"This must be how prostitutes feel," I thought. You sell your soul in exchange for Chinese-made crap. "It's cheap, but it ain't free," Steely Dan once sang.

All of which brought to mind the terrible bridge collapse in Minneapolis yesterday. CNN announced that estimates to repair our broken infrastructure run about $1.3 trillion. But, we have "no money" do repair our bridges, roads, railroads, and airports. Why? Hmm... Maybe because we've squandered a trillion dollars in Iraq?

We've spent all this money in Iraq and have jack to show for it. Their infrastructure is even uglier than ours. "Corruption is the second insurgency," a recent government report stated.
Here's a new and unique idea. By last count, after all the mass murders and bombings, there are about 23 million inhabitants of Iraq. Not counting vermin, of course. So, why not just pull our troops out and give every Iraqi a million bucks? Wouldn't that be the Republican way? "Free market economics: Give 'em the money and let them spend it however they want." Seems like letting them fix their own damn country would be a lot less expensive than letting Haliburton pave it over and rape the earth for oil.

Our relationship with Iraq is like an abusive marriage. As my friend Stefanie recently told me, "We won't leave until they stop trying to push us out." Big Daddy Bush slaps them around and kills 600,000 civilians, and they go all passive-agressive on our ass by planting IEDs under Humvees.

Reminds me of Jack Nicholson in "The Shining." "Here's Jonny!" "Here's your worst fucking nightmare!" A decrepit empire dragging the rest of the world down its own black hole.

Sic semper imperatoris!

A Boy's (Robot) Life

A Boy's (Robot) Life

Saturday night I went to see Transformers. The movie was better than I expected, and though a tad too long, kept me entertained till the end.
The movie had all the elements any teenage or pre-teen boy would love:

• A hot chick
• nerd teen hero who gets the hot chick
• cars, trucks, jet fighters
• stuff blowing up randomly and with great noise
• ROBOTS!!!

Yeah, sure it's another summer schlockbuster, but has an innate coolness factor. Did I mention, it has ROBOTS!!!