Silly Christians

I am always intrigued by the traditions and where they come from--Christmas for example is the day we (as Christians) celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ...way back when he was born in mid July. I am still amazed how many Merry Christmas wishing Christians don't know this. I would figure they would learn the truth about something as important as His birth, the birth of the Savior, of God, but no. Jesus born in July? Poppycock! Surely you jest!

But I jest not. I don't know how much detail I have to go into because it seems common knowledge for some and unheard of by others. I think it has to do with how hardcore a Christian you are. Casual church goers don't seem to know and don't seem to care, but the Evangelical Christians usually respond: "I know." when I say Jesus wasn't born on December 25th.

After that there is a bridge of sorts, let's call it the Bridge of Truth. I am standing on Truth inviting others to come across the bridge and share in Truth. But they don't want to come! So I scoop up truth and mold it like a snowball and throw it at them:

"If we celebrate Christmas to remember the birth of Christ (back in July), where do the evergreen trees come in? How does that tie into the birth of Jesus? Because evergreen trees such as Pine and Fir do not grow in Israel/Palestine (Bethlehem) at all."

I know the snowball was too much when they say those magic words: "Hmm. I don't know. I will look into it and get back to you." It's like they have the same class where the Prof says, "Now this is what you say if struck with the snowball of truth..."

So where are we now? Christmas is not the day to celebrate Christ's Birth (I mean, for many it is, but it is not the reason for the tree, the presents, the gift giving, eggnog and all that) It is from the Yule Time Celebration by the Nordic Vikings and the Winter Solstice by the Germanic Pagans (which is very similar to the Nords). They were afraid of Oden who they believed flew over their houses at night to see who would prosper or perish, as a result they stayed inside--and if they had to go outside they made sure to do good deeds as those would be seen by Oden if he passed by.

The Yule time was a celebration of the return of the sun to rid the land of winter. They would burn huge logs called Yule Logs in a giant bonfire. They would feast until the logs burned, which was usually about 14 days. This was the time that the beer and wine made early in the year had fermented enough to be imbibed and they enjoyed a feast from fresh meat (animals slaughtered so they wouldn't have to be fed during winter). Yule starts on the 21st...kinda around the time of Hanukkah. (not really, Hanukkah supposed to be celebrated late November, but that conflicts with turkey day, so they got bumped up.)

Speaking of Bumping up, The celebration of the birth of Christ (in July) is celebrated in December because the original celebration (Solstice/Yule) took place at that time. Any good Pope knows you can't let the Pagans have their holiday. But it is difficult to undo a tradition, especially a tradition that predates Christianity. As is common practice the Catholics decided to celebrate Christ's B-day at the same time as the Pagan celebrations because the pagans grossly outnumbered the Catholics. Around the 4th century Christians outnumbered Pagans and they brought the celebration down to one day: the 25th of December.

From there it was outlawed by the puritans in England(1400's), and changed many times until the standard gift-giving, season-to-be-sharing holiday it is now (late 1800's). Then Coca-Cola gave us the modern rendition of Santa Clause.

I would just like to say Happy Yule Time Solstice.

I would also like to say it doesn't matter who started the tradition, as traditions--traditionally--evolve and change as the years go by.

And to you grumpy Christians: don't be so indignant about "loosing the meaning" of your holiday, as it wasn't yours to begin with.

Enjoy your X-mas, be safe, enjoy your family and togetherness.

(there is a cool article about Christmas on the History Channel Website also)

MRI

This machine is shrouded in mystery. Just WTF is it all about?

Seeing as I know a thing or two about them I thought I'd post some info after seeing medical shows totally get it wrong.

It is a super conductor, which means its full of liquid helium to get as close to Absolute Zero as possible (about 2 degrees kelvin or -456.07 degrees Fahrenheit, -271 Celsius) to flow electricity better. Because the colder things are the better electricity flows, which is why it is freaking cold around the magnet.

The magnet itself is a massive electromagnetic conductor of incredible strength. Magnets are measured in tesla scale named after Nikola Tesla the inventor of the 2nd industrial revolution because of his work with electricity and magnetism and physics. But what's it all mean? Lemme illustrate: The big magnet at a junkyard that picks up cars is a 0.2 tesla magnet. The MRI magnet my dad works with everyday is a 2 tesla magnet. There are 3 tesla (60,000 times more powerful then the earth's magnetic field) magnets out there with experiments in the 6 tesla range (patience experience short term memory loss,and dizziness in such a machine).

Because of its incredible magnetic strength NO METAL IS ALLOWED IN THE ROOM. Unless you run the magnet and are showing off to your kid, then it's ok. More on that later.

If you have any magnetic devices like an ipod, credit card, tape, or computer within the magnetic field it will be erased, inoperable and pulled toward the magnet at an exponential rate. That means from 6ft away if you drop a wrench to the ground it will arc towards the magnet, which pulls it more, and swing up towards it and fly right at it and accelerate at an incredible speed, but only in the last few inches as it accelerates from 30mph to 100mph. (safety video of them dropping a wrench and showing it shatter a block of concrete.)

Right, so no metal. But what about jewelery? Gold isn't magnetic so it should be fine right? Wrong! The magnet uses a powerful radio frequency (RF) to take pictures (more on that later) and when you pulse a radio frequency into a ring of metal it resonates (the molecules get agitated, creating heat) within a magnetic field. So what happens? It heats up to the point it can burn your skin, which burns, obviously. So no earrings, bracelets, necklaces or rings. This includes piercings in naughty places which some people try to hide cause they don't want anyone to know. So they walk in with the magnet (one woman burned her clit. YIKES!) and scream, but not at first cause its a slow heating process. So no jewelery.

Strangely, tattoos can be problematic because some of the dyes are metal based like the colors green and red, and those too can heat up, or in the case of prison tattoos, get pulled out of the skin because it is ferromagnetic. (iron, steel, etc.)

Ok so now the crazy part, how do you use RF and magnetism to take pictures of the human body, and why MRI as opposed to X-ray? Excellent question!
Thank you.
You're welcome.
The magnet is shaped like a tunnel (some are shaped differently, but the best ones are shapped like a tunnel) with the magnet making the tunnel walls. You go to the center of the machine and lie very still while the machine makes a rukus. Seriously, high decibel levels, you need earphones/earplugs for to prevent damage. So now the MRI machine has it's powerful magnetic field encircling you and holding your atoms in alignment. Trippy huh? Holding your atoms in alignment, all of them. Then it uses the Radio Frequency mentioned earlier to pulse to the target area (say your back hurts, or your foot, the target area would be those places) at a specific frequency to reverse the aligment of hydrogen atoms.

Because we are made up of so much water this works out well. So the magnet holds the hydrogen atoms in alignment and the RF hits it and flips them 180 then the computer watches the speed and energy at which they return to normal. Because the hydrogen in fat rotates and gives off different levels of energy then those of bone, tumor, or blood, the computer can digitize an image showing your internal organs without any damage to your body. That is why it is essential that you don't move, cause the machine is measuring your spinning atoms.

So now that I got that out of the way, let me correct medical shows getting it all wrong.

-The magnet can not be turned on or off with the flip of a switch, they are always on (super conductor requires constant enery flow).
-An MRI is a complicated technical machine requring technicians to operate, it is not a lightswitch that anyone can flip, even if they are the worlds greatest brain surgeon and wants to take the pictures himself.
-....I just remebered I have to write my woman a farie tale.

got to go

The Swiss Banker

You know how when you are at the airport, and you don't travel much, and so much has changed since the last time and you are in a line for the security check and the guy behind you is some Swiss banker who flies every day, sometimes twice a day, and he knows the system and the rules and what is expected and he has his shoes off before he even sees the gate, but he is behind you and has to wait for you to figure it all out because he is so good at it he can walk right through without slowing down?

or

You know how you are at a sushi place for the first/second time and everyone around you is having fun trying new things and there is some Swiss banker in the corner buying the fancy stuff and eating things that seem impervious to chopsticks and he is surrounded by dishes and sauces and knows what goes where and when and when you get your own dishes and sauces you are thinking, "What are all these bowls for? Whats this pink stuff for, and where is my spoon for this soup?" and you bumble around mixing things that aren't to be mixed and using bowls for what they aren't meant for as he walks out the door?

or

You know how you are at the new coffee shop in town and you don't normally go to coffee shops and there is no line but as soon as you step up to order a line forms behind you full of people who come here every day, including that Swiss banker, and they are waiting for you and you say what you want and the barista asks how you want it and you don't know how it comes so you ask and the people behind you start to pile up and it takes you 2 minutes to make a complete order while it takes 2 more minutes for the barista to get through the whole army of people behind you?

or

You know how you are about to have sex for the second-ish time with a woman and she knows what she likes and where she wants you and you don't and all you know is that it feels good and she asks/tells you to do something to her and you don't know what she means and you try to extrapolate the words into an action that you think is pleasing to her but she is still waiting for you to do what she asked for and she wishes she was with that Swiss banker who could hit her G, C, F, and Q spots while standing on one leg and massaging her back?

or

You know how you are about to have sex for the second time with a man and he knows more about the female body then your gynocologist and he asks if you like what he is doing and you don't know because you think you have to pee most of the time and he asks for your foot or your arm and you don't know why he wants your foot so you just moan louder which makes him more exuberant and he grabs your hand and puts your finger in his mouth and you think you are supposed to do something but you dont know what and he wishes he was sexing that Swiss banker chick who knew how to move around in bed?

or

You know how you are about to smoke weed the first time and they give you a joint and you inhale and hold it in and it stings and you cough and they all laugh and encourage you and you inhale again and hold it and cough and you just keep going that way over and over while everyone else is waiting for you to pass the joint incuding that Swiss banker who could have made seven passes to your one already?

That is what driving is like for me if I were a Swiss banker.

Show me some skin

I e-mailing my prof about being locked out of the building when an AIM Video Chat Invite came from LoopyLoo.

It's been three weeks since I saw my wife-to-be. But I can never be too careful around her, so I made sure there was no one else around before accepting it.

Then the Video Chat window grew and showed a preview of myself. I looked tired with a colorful backdrop of books on the shelves of the science library. I tried to look awake, and adjusted my hair and scooted closer to the computer and then the window grew to show her sitting in the swivel chair in my room.

Her hair was black, her nails were black her choker was black her tight sequence top was blue and she showed me her black skirt, smooth legs and these scary looking blue fuzzy boot things that covered her leg from knee to foot. She had cookie monster shins!

Birra Purra

I like beer. And what I mean to say is I like the flavor of beer; not getting drunk, although that can be fun at times too. No, what I mean is I like the flavor of beer.

I remember the first time I had some. My father had a big tall pilsner glass with a golden brew in it, most likely a Pacifico. And I said, "Whats that taste like?" and he handed it to me. And I took it with a smile, looked to both my mom and my dad who both said it was OK. So I tilted it towards my mouth and took a small mouthful, like a two small sips, but at the same time. And I remember it tasting like dirt/old coins and handing it back coughing the whole time. I remember saying, "That tastes gross. I will never drink that nasty stuff again." because Dad told me to remember me saying that. He also made me remember other similar times. Like the time I swore off girls:
"Girls are gross. I will never have anything to do with them." And he told me to remember I said that.
As well as the time I swore off clothes:
"Clothes are stupid. I never want to wear this stupid stuff again."

Anyway... what was I saying... oh yeah beer. I like it now, and I don't remember when the switch occurred. But anyway, yesterday I was at the store (for the 3rd time ever on my own for just me--scary) and every so often I get a new six pack of a new beer I havent tried before. Maybe I will start a beer blog?

anyway I got this new Italian beer called...Whats it called...Bier...no thats german... its... oh yeah! Birra Peroni Nastro Azzurro. Which, kinda, sounds, bad...Nastro sounds like the italian for nasty, but it means ribbon.

Anyway I popped the top of it off and it had a mist oozing out of the bottle that was pretty cool that some others havent had. Before I drank any I gave it a smell. For wine they call it a bouquet, but for beer I think they call it ... a bouquet, which is kinda silly because they usually smell like dirt and not like fruit, though both grow in dirt...

Anyway the birra purra de italia comes from Rome! And it isn't one of those owned-in-Rome-brewed-in-the-states kind of things either. They make it in ROME and put it on a big boat that sails from the boot all the way across the Atlantic, then by train, then by truck, then by dude, then I buy it and bring it up the mountain with me. But it's from ROME!

I imagined the journey and the craft involved to make a birra purra de italia and felt like it was special because of the journey it took to reach me in the mountains. Like we were destined to be together!

That didn't last that long though. I drank it and I want to describe it for you.

Beer connoisseurs have this fancy language to describe the flavors and how it rolls across the pallet and stuff that I think is a brazen attempt to compete with the snobbishness of wine snobs.

Anyway the birra purra de italia is described as "Crisp" and that is exactly how it tasted. They got it right! Once! They got it right. It did taste crisp. And the golden liquid bubbled and fizzed and I thought it was amazingly crisp and yummy flavored.

Then the flavor after that was...beer. :-(

That is to say it was what I remembered beer tasting like when I first tried some. It was EXACTLY that flavor I sampled ... 16 years ago back when I was 8. (that's a guess). And thus I had to share because the birra took me back when daddy handed me a glass and I swore it off.

How to eat a Mango

My best buddy Mike said once, “I don’t eat fruit that I need a tool to get into—this includes coconuts (not a fruit), pineapple, kiwi, avocado, melons and the like—unless it is prepared like in coconut (not a fruit) pudding or guacamole or pumpkin pie or something.” Which would mean he does eat fruit like apples and pears and bananas, oranges, peaches, nectarines, plums and the like because he can buy those in the store, give them a quick wash and bite into them without an intermediary between him and his fruit besides water, maybe.

I asked him if he thought most people were like that and he said they probably were. So I asked him who was buying all that weird stuff in the store like coconuts (not a fruit), pineapple, star fruit, mangoes and the like. We didn’t know. So we went to the store, the one I used to work at during high school, and went to the produce section, which as far as the store layouts go is the focus of this particular store. The one in Ventura is wine and spirits; the one in Oxnard is a bakery. Anyway we noticed the produce section was dominated by apples and oranges in the center, big pyramids of them, but the perimeter was a smorgasbord of strange fruit and veggies. We bought a coconut (not a fruit) for some reason. And spent a long time trying to get into by whacking it and smashing it with heavy stuff. It is remarkably resilient. But that is not the purpose of this post. Mangoes…

Mango is a strange fruit and I remember once I was mopping a dirty spot in the store when Eddie The Produce Guy was checking the produce. Form one box he pulled these big pear shaped things. I asked him what they were and he said they were mangoes. I had never seen one before so I took one and scrutinized it. It was kind of like a big pear. I could feel that the skin was really thick though. Eddie watched me and I asked what does it taste like and how do you eat it. So he takes the one I held, cleans it off, pulls out his knife and cuts a big hunk of it off, so the skin is like a bowl holding the dark yellow flesh in the center. Then he cuts into the flesh over and over making a giant tic tac toe board. I had no idea what he was doing and how one would eat a mango. So then he takes the skin and pushes up from the center reversing the concave and turning it convex and as he did this it opened up like a little city with rectangular buildings sticking up in neat little rows. I remember a child like vocalization of: “Whoa, cool!” and he gave me the skin and told me to bite off each little rectangle in turn.

That was a flashback fyi so I could show this:

walking into Albertson's (the arch nemesis of the stores I had worked at, Vons) the first thing I saw was the produce section and as I walked down the aisle with lunch meats and sandwich cheeses on my left and fruit on my right I came across a stacked pyramid of big pear things. I picked one up and held it in my hand like it were poor Yorick. And I had this desire to take it home and cut it up, remove the skin in a hunk make a tic tac toe cut and invert the skin revealing those rectangular buildings on a small planet I held in my hand. And then like Godzilla eat them all! (Godzilla never purposely ate buildings, it was always accidental--I remember one time my dad showed me it was a guy inside Godzilla with small model buildings he tramped through. I couldn't believe it.)

I purchased one mango at $1.13, took my two foot receipt and recycled white bag before walking through the parking lot of blackened bubble gum and then driving home. I put it in the refrigerator. It sat for a week.

one week later:

I removed it expecting it to be mushy, but it wasn't. It was firm. I picked up a knife and cut a big hunk of it off then made 5 vertical cuts and 7 horizontal cuts. I put the knife down. With both hands, or both sets of fingers rather, I pushed up the center pulling the flaps down, flipping concave convex, opening the slices up like canyons in the earth until you get this:

It's the LIES that matter.

Inspired by Erin:

Tuesday, November 4th, 2008, 2:11pm:

In Renaissance revolutions class I was taking notes one day and I was writing down everything the professor said and he said, "And it is the LAWS that matter." and I wrote: It's the LIES that matter.

Did you see that? I sure did. So I put a line through it and wrote it again:

It's the LIES that matter.

WTF? I thought to myself.

I wrote: LAWS LAWS LAWS LAWS LAWS and then tried again:

It's the LIES that matter. LIES. I stopped taking notes that day...

When I got home last week I looked over my notes and it said: It's the LIES that matter. It's the LIES that Matter. LAWS LAWS LAWS LAWS LAWS. It's the LIES that matter. LIES.

and I thought it was strange.

Thursday, November 13th, 2008, 2:37 pm:

I was taking notes on my computer. And the Professor said, "...to survive you need good laws."

And I typed: 2 survive u need good lies.

All those strange memories from earlier smacked me in the head. I deleted it and tried it again:

LAWS LAWS LAWS LAWS. 2 survive you need good lies. lies lawslieslaws.

and flew into a free write right there: lies are laws laws are lies we make laws to lie and lie to make laws are laws and lies that related laws are truth not lies but lies are not truth so lies can't be laws and laws can't be laws wait yes they can lies can be laws if laws allow lies to make laws of lying for laws.....BUYCLK WTF is THIS??????

I closed my computer and listened the rest of the day without notes.

Saturday, November 16th, 2008, 1:38pm:

I was talking on my phone to Mike and he said, "I think that is an unwritten law."

and I said, "Lie." like I was correcting him.

and he said, "What?"

"Nothing. I say LIE when I mean LIE. Er, LAW."

"Thats pretty freaky. Lets do it again."

"k"

"Those are some crazy LAWS, don't you think Brian?"

"Yeah."

"What are they?"

"LIES. Dude WTF is wrong with me."

"Who knows, but you should write about it."

"That's stupid. And I'd probably LAW about something else entirely."

"Dude you said LAW when you meant LAW just now. Wait, lie. Law. Now you got me doing it."

"I got to write this down."

"I'll look into my DSM-V for law-lie convergence. You probably have a tumor or something."

"Its nat a TUMAH!"

"GET TU DA CHOPPA, NAW!" and I hung up.

Sunday, November 16th, 2008, 1:37am:

I was watching Mind, Body & Kick Ass Moves and the guy said, "There is just one law to remember..."

And to my computer I said, "LIE to remember." And my Riley my rat sneezed.

Monday, November 17th, 2008, 4:37pm:

In the science library somebody walked by and said, "It's not like it breaks any cosmic law of the universe."

And I spun around and said, "LIE." And this guy and this girl looked at me.

"What?"

"Cosmic LIE of the universe."

They looked at one another and then walked away, quickly.

The swallow never lands where the tiger roams.

law

lie

Expose'

I finally completed the 1st draft of my new story due on the 18th. It is 25 pages long exactly. As I wrote it I was thinking, "Wow this is fun" and then I got to page 21 and I thought, "This sucks. No body will like this. I am wasting my time and energy. I am so stupid." and then after I finished it I was like, "Hey this is pretty cool." I think those worthless feelings are normal and should be embraced because it means I am putting myself on the line, writing honestly. If I never get that feeling I think it means I am lying to myself.

I like honest writing even if its weird or offensive or "meaningless".

One of friends wrote this really easy-reading story about a librarian (that turned out to be her in actuality) about a trite comment a lady made to her that she thought was a little thing that bothered her for weeks until the lady came back a month later and apologized. It was so honest and fun. I loved it. (I think I read it when I was on pg 21 of writing my own story)

but anyway my story: I did a month of hardcore research to get as much info as I could to make this story...well not "true" per se but...accurate! Accurate is a much better word. Anyway, I had an idea that started it all from a logical process of inductive reasoning: Either something is true or it is false, if you have many things explaining something there is a greater chance for them all being true or all being false rather than one of them being true, proving the other wrong. So the thought went like this: What if all the myths and religions across history (Norse, Greek, Japanese, Chinese, Indian, Korean, Egyptian, Middle East, Russian, British, Aztec, et al.) were real, or the opposite of what I believe. Just to try that on for a moment. What if...

What if it was ALL real? What would that mean? What if all the Gods and Goddesses shared the planet? How would that work on a pantheistic scale?

There is this notion people have had since forever: The more believers a God has the more strength he has. Many religions have laws that talk of converting people and not worshiping other gods and so on in an attempt to gather more worshipers. If I had followed this notion the Muslim Pantheon would be the top dog because Islam has the most worshipers unless you roll Roman Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, Anglican all together. In that case it has almost twice the number of adherents (2,116,909,552 vs. 1,282,780,149). But if I did that I would have to break all the other religions down into their little groups and the ones I am most interested in (Mythology: Norse, Egyptian, Slavic, Japanese) would be very insignificant because very few people still believe those old ways.

So I came up with my own idea: What if the power of a God would be tied to it's physical link in this world, based on time? Like Stonehenge, the Pyramids in Egypt, the Pyramids in Mexico/central america/ south america etc.? Those places were built by people for religious reasons often for the Gods. In this case the Egyptians would be strongest because they have the grandest, oldest physical "tie-in" to this world. But this would mean that the Christian religion would be rather insignificant because they have no Pyramids, no Stonehenge but fancy cathedrals built less than a thousand years ago (in some cases 1/4 of the age of Stonehenge). I wasn't happy with this notion so I tried one more and it was the hardest.

The power of myth. Each myth explains the world and the power of the Gods. In Ancient Greek Mythology Zeus hurls thundrbolts as his main method of attack, on top of his incredible strength (he can lift mountains and hurl them at his enemies). But Thor has armor and a sword and makes ligtningbolts ON ACCIDENT while he works his forge. He is the greatest warrior and his armor makes him impervious to lightning bolts. Thor trumps Zeus in this example and could stomp many other gods like the christian one (who at times is rather peacful, but can be wrathful and sends plagues and floods etc.). I had to do a lot of reaseach with this idea to find who was the top dog so to speak. In so doing I found the Villain of the universe: Typhon/Seth (god of chaos and dischord) who is featured in many religious traditions as a shapshifting Draconic badass that tries to kill the king of gods and take his throne (Egyptian, Greek, Norse, Asian). So in this process I learned that the egyptian god of Death Ap-uat has arrows "more powerful than the gods" which the Greek Goddess Artemis (bow and arrows) is mentioned as highly accurate with her bowshots but she does not have arrows more powerful than the gods, so if these two fought Ap-uat would surely win with his arrows of god slaying, a dangerous dude indeed. But some of the claims are incredibly strange and weird and seperated gods into categories of "creation" and "patrons of" so the christian god is a creator, more like a force that can't be directly asaulted, as is Ra and many others. I didn't want to limit myself so I found this idea (complex and time consuming) missing something.

So what I did was take all those ideas and meld them together to get my story, which seems the only way to do it. So the Christians dominate the world, but many pantheons still hold power because of their physical ties (stonehenge, Pyramids, etc.). And the mythic strength allows for a hierarcy of strength/power so to speak. So when the Egyptian Goddess Ammut (devine retribution) meets Archangel Michael, He doesn't attack it because she is a goddess and he is a powerful messenger/general.

I think accuracy is important, so I did tons of research to make sure my descriptions/representations were accurate and true, and that the character is captured. The Archangels were the hardest because they are described as having no emotion, because humans have emotion and that is why they are weaker. So there were times when a really angry Archangel Michael would have been really cool, but he would never show emotion, not for real anyway, and that is a cornerstone of that mythology, angels without emotion, so it was hard. Also the research I did countered my preconcieved notions about the gods which was good but required my original story to be altered drastically, thus Ap-uat was added because Anpu was like a patron saint of the lost (souls, orphans etc) and described as both cold and generous. I had a lot of fun and I sent it out to my Cadre for thoughts and opinions on my 1st draft. I get those back soon. I hope they like it. And I wonder what the Advanced Fiction Workshop will think about it... I'll tell you how that goes.

Free write

I might have explained this earlier, but a Freewrite is writing free, letting your left brain hemisphere go off into lala land and you write what comes to your mind. Ideally you right at the speed of thought and try to stay grounded in the concrete. So don't write things like, "She looked dvine" but rather, "her hair was the color of organic honey" utilizing those 5 senses. Because things like divine, and hope, and peace and beauty and whatever else are abstractions--or place holders of a weak nature until the actual words can be found.

To steal a quote from the great Erin Fletcher: I describe the color of grass and you describe the color of grass and they are different and then there is the actual color of grass.

So strive for the actual, in so doing other people can't help but see/smell/feel/hear/taste what you are writing about. Also it can sometimes trigger memories--follow those wherever they go, stay in the concrete as much a spossible.

This allows me to write anywhere anytime about anything. as an example here is a freewrite I wrote in class about a strawberry (i have done this like 4 times now):

little seeds on the outside-little yellowish green teardrops in no particular order except the point of each seed grows generally towards the bottom where the seeds are--the skin--a red color--not one color but a variance of dark red like curdled blood to a pinkish at top to a white until greenery of a different texture grows--as i lift the fuzzy green leaves i see small yellow feelers like on a catepillar--the light red flesh of this fruit grows tiny transparent hairs--the skin has smooth tight places and wrinkeled loose places--this one has suffered some trauma--like a cancer--that has been removed to save the whole--this leaves an inner layer or scar tissue--also at the bottom is a sunken depression like a belly button--deep down in there is a seed--its as though the seeds only go so far--connected to the center--and as the skin/flesh grows outward the seeds hold it back and create slight depressions--where there is much pressure the skin is tight--where it is loose--it hasn't grown far enough to have the seeds pull it back--or limit it rather--the bottom of this berry has recently been damaged and bleeds its juices onto my fingers--it reminds me of mom and me putting a humming bird feeder up filled with that red liquid and some of it spilled on my hand and stained it a sticky red that crawls between the swirls of my fingerprint and collects in the deepest little cracks--because it is bleeding i can smell the insides of it--a pleasant smell--one part sharp two parts sweet and one part that demands i eat it--what a successful plant--so delicious that surely animals will eat it and scatter the seeds all over for more strawberries to grow--as i bite it i feel the sharp sweet flavor leap through my taste centers replaced by a tang--as i munch i feel the seeds breaking between my teeth like crustal shoeboxes or tiny crackers--because i feel the smaller pieces still--the flesh sticks to my teeth--as i look to the center of the now partially eaten berry i see wet goey flesh around the outside like twisted canyon walls--the center is rough and full of bubbles and the bubbles are arranged in strings and the center is hollow--is the bubbles seeds that couldn't make it to the outside--

Research

As I was researching archangels for my story I accidentally found "The Hymn of the Cherub" 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th tone sung in Byzantine chant. It's eerie. And while I am not remotely fluent in Byzantine (haha) I feel moved none the less. Here it is for your listening pleasure. I suggest kicking back, closing your eyes and letting the chant wash over you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MmH0Ntc1aAU&feature=related

It sounded like Arabic to me so I looked up a Qur'an Reciter. Again do the same thing as above.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SISX-0CBRFM&feature=related

And totally unwarranted, a memory: My first girlfriend Fatimah (her American name was Erin) reciting her Qur'an to me. She was Thai and short and cute and sweet and she wanted to read to me because I was an infidel, a good looking infidel she amended later, but an infidel none the less. This was half joke, half truth for her.

She sat me down, opened her book with the strange squiggles and read from right to left (rather than from left to right like I do) and sang this passage to me. I don't speak Arabic, other than basic stuff and some openings to chant. I didn't understand what she was chanting to me, but I didn't need to. It was for her, not for me. And before she started I have to say I was expecting some boring "...and he said onto him, have ye spoken ill of me? To which he answered not I said he..." Kind of like those people in my grandma's church that sang the hallelujah that didn't sound like a hallelujah: Hah-lay-loo-ya joy-us-ly we sing.

So she opened her mouth, her face became serious and she recited it to me. And it blew me away. It was so smooth and beautiful with such emotion. She was in another world and I was captivated and just watched her. It was like singing, but slow. It had a definate seriousness to it that only added to its beauty, which added to her beauty reading her holy book to save my soul. She looked about ready to cry, but never did.

And it was at that moment I relaized the implication of what this meant. It was her other life in the UAE and Malaysia and Thailand and everywhere else--her unamerican life--shining through. She had stopped covering and was kissing boys, well one boy anyway, that handsome infidel mentioned above. I only realize now how crazy her life really was. At the time she was just the girl I loved. The exotic girl with so much crazy history (her dad was born into a jewish orthodox home and converted to islam on his own. He was abusive and crazy and his parents stole Erin from him to live with them in Ojai and fought for custody which they got. They were orthodox Jews she was muslim--December was interesting to say the least) that she had a hard time dealing with. For two years I helped her get over it and relax, she was in America now and safe from her dad. But her grandmother didn't like me, or rather she did like me but thought it was time for her to move on. So she did. Had to.

But the Qur'an...its weird that they chant it, rather than read it in a townhall kind of meeting and discuss it. Anyway got to go to class, just had to share that.

WATER also religion v science

I try not to belabor the point, but belief that the scientific method is wrong would be ludicrous. I was just talking to someone from my religion class, someone who is a strong believer. The worst kind of believer because in the face of rational thought processes they still clutch to their dogma. Which is the same as clutching your ears to block sound and screaming "NANANANANA!" Beyond that it shows a supreme ignorance, moreover a decision to ignore the way things are because they have the word "science" attached to them. I cannot explain the scientific method right now, but I was just talking to Kevin about water. Which reminds me of a religious argument Uncle David had with Kevin. Until Kevin said:

Water is amazing. It is 3 elements: Oxygen and two hydrogen (H2O). Hydrogen is highly reactive (research Hindenburg for more info) and has a slight positive charge. Oxygen on the other hand has a slight negative charge (also Florine). Opposites attract. Hydrogen is bonded to oxygen but still attracts another water molecule by oxygen. This is called a hydrogen bond.

It allows trees to exist by allowing water to be pulled up from the roots to the leaves without breaking the flow or stream of water because each molecule holds another. Water likes to join with itself which is why it boils so hot for being so small a molecule.

These hydrogen bonds occur at 46 degree angle. Don't bust out your protractor, just trust me. If this did not occur, water could not exist. Too great an angle and the hydrogen bond breaks. When you boil water the molecules move around so much that the angle is increased too far, breaks and is converted into steam. You can play with magnets to see how this works.

Likewise oxygen bonds with hydrogen at a 105.45 degree angle to make water. If this angle is stretched too far water does not exist. If it is pushed together too close it doesn't exist, it can't exist.

When you take a balloon of oxygen and a balloon of hydrogen, tape them together and pop them at the same time water falls down. I have not created something from nothing, I have merely joined two groups of atoms that when so joined make water. No trickery, no mysticism, just simple chemistry.

I put it to you that the water molecule exists in this configuration because it cannot exist in any other configuration. It will always be that way. Travel a million worlds through parallel universes and you will find water in identical configuration. This configuration of microscopic parts makes up water. Water is essential to our bodies and indeed the vast majority of organisms throughout this planet.

Water exists because that is the nature of the universe. Put oxygen and hydrogen together and you get water no matter where you do it, or when. Put one proton with one electron you get hydrogen, etc.

The universe is made of those same tiny particles that simply fit together in specific configurations because they cannot exist in any other way.

There is no need to explain "the divinity" or "the perfection" of this with God. It just IS because it cannot BE any other way. Likewise planets are formed, stars created, solar systems, organisms, you name it they exist totally without a "divine maker" to make them. You take protons and electrons and put them together you can make anything you want. YOU can be God if you want to.

Ultimately a creator is unnecessary because the atoms only fit one way.

to which uncle David replied: That's because God made the rules for the universe.

And Kevin just left...

HA! Just kidding, Kevin would never leave. Instead he fixed him with a dubious look and scrunched face that said, "you must be joking"

uh anyway go to class now.

Opinion

Jails are cool now. When did that happen? Criminals are cool. There are dating services that places lucky ladies with convicts on their way out. There are dating shows, blogs, books, hit shows like jailbreak and on and on.

I don't normally write my opinion down because Reza Aslan said no body cares. Beyond that Michale de Montaigne said that is man's greatest flaw, that of amassing opinions. Opinions do nothing beneficial. He went on to say that even Socrates who said, "I am without opinion/ I know nothing." must have an opinion/know something to say he actually doesn't. Its just like if I said don't think of a blue car, you have to think of a blue car first before you know not to think of it. So Michael de Montaigne said, "Tell me what I know?" which is not taking a postion, and not offering an opinion. His argument? "An Apology for Raymond Sebond" in which he talks about animals--without opinon themselves--and how they don't mess eachother up by acting out their opinions like humans do. Opinions seem to be of little use and we should stop having them.

But they can be so much fun.

Jail. A place to store dangerous people that have broken ours laws and are being punished as a result. These people should not be getting attention. No book making, no TV shows no dating services, nothing. You broke the law! No Internet, no TV. Jails are a joke anyway. Crime is just as strong inside as out, gaurds manipulate the rules to get drugs in there and gangs are just as valid etc. It seems OBVIOUS to me that these people should be punished for their crime. instead they make childrens books, and do interviews and whatever else. The only show they should make about jail is Scared Straight, if you have ever seen this show you know why. Criminals talk to at risk kids about being in jail. Its the only time a TV network will allow profanity on their screen. And not just "crap" and "tits," full blown "Bring that juicy fucking ass in here so I can fuck it with my black cock. Drink my cum little bitch, drink it!" says the inmate to the passing boy as he reaches out to grab him.

Criminals. Punishment should fit the crime. Other than that I dont really care what they do, just so long as I dont hear about how cool it is to be a criminal. These are not role models. They are failed citizens and should be treated as such until such time as they have made reparations.

Solution. So much could benefit from manual labor without cost. Like freeway clean up, hazardous waste disposal, recycling plants et al. I think they are an untapped resource. Its time to bring back the chain gang. Chain them all together, have cops with shot guns nearby, and have those criminals clean the freeway, clean the beach, clean up oil spills do whatever we can't pay people to do that needs doing because there is plenty to do. Now they can't do dangerous or harmful stuff because they are still american citizens and not slaves, but there is still plenty to do.

I have no sympathy for violent criminals, so it bothers me to see them writing books and giving interviews and being given any attention at all. They should rot without another thought.

(You can log onto sexoffender and type your area code in and see a barrage of red dots within 5 miles of your house of resgistered sex offenders. Neat huh? Lots of offenders of children around my house. What about you?)

of course every case is indivdual, I still dont want them elevated its disgusting to me.

I'll be your handle Baby!

I am going to be sexually explicit, so unless you want to read about it you should read something else. I feel like talking about sex unfiltered.

So Tuesday night I went to a concert with Loo. It was really cool, we had a great time. During Sushi I said I would come home with her that night in Ojai instead of going back up the mountain because Hollywood is only about an hour away from Ojai, whereas it's at least 2 hours from Big Bear. So I told her that the distance would be too great to travel tonight, and they were doing road construction and it would take longer and I'd rather just bypass it altogether, which is partly true, but the real reason I wanted to come home that night was because I wanted sex.

I hadn't had sex in 3 weeks and I thought I could wait until the weekend when I would come home. But eating sushi with her and talking to her and being around her filled me with desire. Most of the dinner I was hard and had to adjust my pants, until I tucked it under my leg and sat cross legged, which cuts the blood flow off so it will back down. Then I uncross and try to not think about sex and it tries to stay down but remains at the ubiquitous "half-mast" to remind me its ready for action at any moment, just give the word.

After the concert the whole way home I was looking forward to sex, knowing surely I would get it. When we did get home it was 1:30am and she was making noise about being tired. Which I always ignore. Because it's supposed to mean "There will be no sex tonight so don't even try it." But I am devious.

We brushed our teeth, peed in front of one another and went to bed. She changes into her PJ's. She doesnt understand how pretty she is. When I see her taking her clothes off I get really excited. Which she ignores because she already told me she was tired. She crawls into bed and starts putting her girly creams on before sleep. So while she is busy with that I sneak a hand to her foot, which is really sensative, and barely drag my fingers across her skin which makes her foot twitch. I work my way up her leg, dragging my fingers, making circles, so light a touch you have to concentrate to know if they are actually touching. She puts her head down and lays there with her eyes closed, smiling. This is a clear invitation so I keep going with slight touches. I call this "building the fire" sometimes. I lightly touch her all over her body, pulling garments aside to get at the skin beneath. But I don't touch anything naughty. Arms, shoulders, hands, legs, neck, face. then I move to her stomach, and her sides and her ribs getting close to her breasts but never touching. Her body responds to this, and I can see them firming up and the gooseflesh on her body as I touch it. Slowly I start approaching the hot spots. I drag my fingers across her side, down her stomach below her belly button, and lower and lower still until I jump to the other side of her stomach with my other hand starting the same senation over again, left and right hands replaceing one another. This takes a long time. It's 2am now.

Then I use my lips instead of my fingers because they are softer and warmer. I start to kiss and hint at biting and nibbling. I can see how her body leans into my touches and how her breath catches and how the gooseflesh leaps to my fingers until I just give her a brotherly peck on the cheek and say good night. I crawl under the covers and pretend to go to sleep. Meanwhile my body is raging. Blood is drumming behind my ears, my temperature is up, my lips are hot, and I have a raging hard-on that thrums with every pulse of my heart.

She starts moving around in the darkness. A sealed condom lands on my face. And she sits up.
"Quick, because I have to go to work in 4 hours."

*insert sex scene here*

Two minutes later I collapsed on top of her and twitched before falling over to the side. I planned on a long love making session but riled myself up so much that once I got in there it was over before it started. Plus it had been 3 weeks, she was tight and I was craving it. I stood no chance.

And as I laid there catching my breath I remebered the summer and how I could go for hours. From building the fire to clean up could take 4 hours or more. And I became really self conscious like I was failing in her eyes which I see now is totally self inflicted because she was asleep and smiling and gave no indication of disapointment.

Isn't it weird how I make this big deal out of it and it so doesnt matter like that to her, she is just happy she got some and enjoyed the touching and closeness. But I am always wondering like, "Did I impress her? was this the best ever? Am I a sex-god?" and she is like, "well that was nice. zzzzz"

It's normally difficult to talk about these kinds of things, about how I did anything less than sexual olympics and she was so craving it and begging and blah blah blah all that bragging, but I wanted to divulge my less than 2 minute sex because I think its more entertaining. I thought I was so manly and I would rock her world and she would have to struggle to keep quiet, which is partly true.

I read that it takes longer to achieve orgasm with a steady partner because both of their bodies adapt to one another and build up a resistance kind of. So it takes longer to wear through that resistance and achieve orgasm. However, I also read that the longer you are with somone the sex gets shorter because each person learns the other, and knows which ways to move to maximize pleasure in their partner. I think that both of these are true, that a resistance is built up until it simply takes too long to do and different moves are used to cut the time down until eventually it's real fast because they have learned one another's bodies. The SAID principle: Specfic Adaptations to Imposed Demands. Its why working out builds muscle and doing things makes you better at them, your body adapts.

So here is a thought: I think I am being devious about getting her all aroused and leaving her like that to drive her wild because she can't stop like I can.

BUT

What if she is the devious one playing me, thinking: "All I have to do is hint that I am tired and he will massage my body and tickle me and tantalize me for hours before I pretend to give in. Better than him asking and me saying yes because I like massages."

And does it matter? I like it either way so I don't think it does. But I like to think I am really smart and crafty, but my mom is reading books about queens and princesses who, "Often ruled the country through their husbands, which were like a handle to control everything while kings and princes thought they were in complete control, rather than being easily manipulated like puppets."

I don't want to be a puppet, unless I get lots of sex. Then it's ok, which I think is our gender's downfall. A heart shapped hiney and perky tits can create momentary amnesia. Maybe that's just me and I should stop...

Nomenclature

more to come--thinking required...

Heavy Metal Cello

I saw Apocalyptica live @ the avalon last night. They ROCK. They are a Finnish Cello quartet with a drummer. They started with Metallica covers on cello.

Metallica is my favorite group, so they started with the best material IMHO. And it blows my mind to hear my favorite songs and guitar solos performed on cellos accurately.

I was in the front row ten feet from them as they played. They don't speak much english, but they talked to us anyway and were funny: "Hello L.A! This is the first time for us here. It is good to see women in the audience tonight. It is usually a lot of really ugly guys. We play in L.A. more often now. This next song is for the women...or the guys too if you like us that way. That is fine if you do, you are just not welcome back stage. Ha. Ha." and then they played Bittersweet. Which Loo LOVES, so she was super happy right then.

Ok, so I want to capture that evening, but I don't have enough time to do it now, i.e. midterms. So I give you night in nutshell (I talk in broken english like Finnish people for now) I parked, meet up with girl. We went to exotic shoe store and she buy tall leather boots, then we eat at Kabuki Japanese restaurant with 10 piece sushi plate each. It was really very good. Then we wait in line for hour and inside for one more hour until show start. Apocalyptica (they pronounce it like a spanish speaker would.) rock the house with heavy meatal cello music. If you search "Apocalyptica live at the avalon" you see me on right side up front. I am tallest, bushy haired guy in audience. Cannot miss me.

On the Rag

I think I am on my cycle right now. I woke up grumpy and emotional, which is soo not me.

I noticed the sunrise this morning, the green flash as the sun peeked over the mountains into the San Bernardino valley and the tiny lights of cars moving like ants through the roads that looked like arteries of the city. And I thought how beautiful it all was and I smiled to myself and my eyes got hot and watery and there were sniffles.

The shower felt amazing and I was so appreciative of it this morning. I almost thanked it out loud.

Then I took my rats out, hugged them, told them I loved them, gave them a treat and left for school.

Down the mountain people were going slow and I felt annoyed. Like what they can't drive the speed limit? Ok, fine the limit is 55 but 30 is ridiculous. And then there is a sign that says: slower traffic use (the fucking) turnout. And I watch as they coast on by 35 now. WTF is that? It says slower assholes use turnout, you are a slower asshole and you missed the turn out. Not to worry there is another one in a mile.

Up to 35 now. You can do it, 20 more miles an hour. The bumper reminds me to support the troops and that abortion stops a beating heart and that McCain/Palin should be the next president. We come upon another clean, empty turnout just begging to be used--and we drive on by.

But not to worry! There is a PASSING LANE OF SALVATION ahead. I sit squarely in preparation for the amazing acceleration I am about to release upon these mountain roads. We ease around the last corner, come upon the double yellow, it splits, the road widdens, I prepare to mash the gas and the $%$%$@$#@ speeds up!

"NO!" I scream over 'My Friend of Misery' by Metallica. I stab the gas. I am doing 65 and the @*&#$ is pulling away from me. "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM" I scream at the windshield.

Then I relax. Because now the passing lane has ended and they are ahead. Now I can continue down at the speed limit, now I can chill out. As I sail around a corner at 55 I see them ahead. They weren't doing 55.

Back to 30 again. I wanted to tell them that the yellow signs that say "35 MPH turn ahead" aren't speed limit signs but recommendations, caution, warnings--for SEMI TRUCKS! Not for this puke green Toyota Camry.

We drive by five more turnouts (empty, glorious, oases of freedom) and approach the last passing lane. I ready myself, turn the overdrive off kicking the RPM to 2800, foot on the gas, right in the power band, ready to blast by them.

The road widens, dotted lines develope, they speed up, I whip out to the left, stab the gas, see the cop with the radar gun, stab the brake, turn the Overdrive back on, set the cruise control for 55 and come neck and neck to the Pukemobile.

I look over at it. A woman sits there. Smug and oblivious, a blue light glows from her ear and she has big bugeyed sunglasses. She is blond, her hair has pins on the sides to keep her bangs out of her eyes and she has a pony tail. She reminds me of Jabba the Hutt and looks to be in her late 30's early 40's. I coast by the officer at 55.000 mph and when he doesn't turn around I push the Resume/Accel button. 57. I inch ahead. I push it again. 59. I am half a car length ahead and she starts accelerating! In the span of 0.5 second: Overdrive off, downshift to 2, both hands on the wheel, stab the gas.

The 3.0 liter v6 in the Nissan Maxima screams, rises to 4200 rpm, variable valve timeing kicks in (which pukemobile doesn't come with), torque steer in full effect, and it hunkers down, the exhaust roaring a crescendo until the upshift at 7000 rpm-- a lurch like the anchor I was dragging finally got hauled in--and I flew right by. Victory!

Around the next turn was a Cement truck--but its OK! because he drove 60 and used his turn out. I told him I loved him as I drove by and waved a thank you. The rest of the way to UCR was smooth sailing.

In class we watched the second half of the movie Smoke Signals, which is a great movie. And I was 0.5 seconds late and the only seat was between all these sorority girls--three rows of them with me in the middle. Blond hair, bubble gum and iPhones were in great supply.

As the movie went on I started crying. It was so emotional. They kept asking if I was ok. Through sobs I told them, "I'm just really emotional right now." Kelsey handed me a tissue.

I thanked her, mopped my tears (as a side note I have an extra tear gland, so when I cry I cry a lot. My mom has it too.) and after the movie I moved on with my life on my way to the sci library.

The trees are so pretty here. People are so beautiful. I saw people holding hands and fought back an "awww!" and then I seemed to be surrounded by couples in love. They reminded me that while I was in love, that person was 233 miles away.

I signed on MSN and told her I missed her so much and I was thinking about her and I can't wait to see her and she is great.

"Thanks."

WTF is that? Thanks? I am pouring my heart out to you and you say thanks!? Thats Bologna right there. Thanks. psh, as if. So I told her she was welcome and I had to go because she was too busy to talk. I signed off MSN and crossed my arms at my computer and pouted. "Thanks." psh. Lame.

Loo signed on to AIM, which I forgot to close. My status was labeled: HERE--In the science library. Her text flashed up on my screen:

"Don't get all snippy with me. I haven't had time to sleep or think much this week. Call me after work. I am super busy now."
"K" I typed back. And she left.

My eyes felt hot again and my vision blurred. I was looking into the future: we were married, might or might not have had rug rats crawling around, but she was too busy to pay me any attention and I was sad. Where is the faerie tale I was promised? Is it always going to be this way? Surrounded by people yet always alone?

Then I got hungry and this chocolate soy milk drink looked really good. And then I saw some girl munching on a burger. And now I have a craving I have to give into.

I noticed my lips are chapped. And my pants need to be washed. And my hair needs conditioning. And my nipples are sensitive.

War Paint

This morning around 1 am I woke up sick to my stomach. I felt nauseated, there was a sharp pain there. Also I was having trouble breathing, there was a kind of wheezing gurgle. There was something in my throat blocking my air too. My face felt warm and weird and when I touched it it felt slippery. There was something on it, something slippery and sticky.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled up the stairs to the bathroom clutching my stomach as pain stabbed me with every step. I knew this feeling well.

In front of the mirror I flipped the light on. Blood was splashed all over my face and arms and hands. When I opened my mouth my teeth were pink with coagulated blood between them like little burgundy popsicles. And when I opened my jaw strings of saliva and blood stretched across my lips like crystalline columns. It wasn’t my blood though.

Just kidding. It was. And it came from my nose. It had started a while ago while I was asleep and my unconscious self brushed the tickle away from my face for a long time while I dreamed of swimming through a submerged maze of iron fillings and rust.

The pressure difference, the heat and the dryness of where I live really bothers my nose to the point it just cracks and bleeds. I stood there looking at myself in the mirror at 1:37am and let the blood run down my face and drip into the sink making a “plink” sound.

It could have been war paint.

I felt the warm blood roll down my upper lip like a slow tear until it met the blood coagulating between my closed lips and was absorbed and releases on the left corner of my mouth were it oozed down my chin slowing, reaching the end and then stopping just before falling away into the sink, hanging there like a liquid-ruby stalactite. And there it stayed. Another drop followed the same path and collected at the same point. It isn’t like water or ice. It doesn’t flow over or around, it flows into, flows through and the liquid-ruby swelled like a tiny balloon.

If I don’t move for awhile it starts to harden on my face, contorting it into a grimace as the red rivulets harden into jagged collections of red spider strands holding my cheeks back. Slowly they darken, and harden, pulling tight across my face. Then they break like parts of tectonic plates, unable to hold my face back any longer.

The severed places look like clean breaks of crystal strands or ice. I hook a finger nail under an edge of darkened blood and lift, loosening long sheets of thin glass that clink when they fall into the sink. After they are all off and piled up like glass shards my face has a thin layer of smeared blood from when I was asleep--now the color of ancient rust.

Clean flesh shines from beneath the war paint like jagged lightning bolts the color of my skin, in this light the color of humus.

Then I washed my face off and went back to bed.

Blood

Blood seems strange to me. Not in the sense of unfamiliarity but in the sense that it is weird stuff. It has little things in it like hemoglobin and red and white cells and platelets and vitamins and minerals and hormones and pheromones and alcohol and caffeine and bacteria and viruses all pumping through my body under pressure.

The fluid, plasma, just sounds cool. Plasma. Plasma.

When I was little and started playing video games with giant mechanical warriors, one of the most devastating weapons was the plasma cannon. I thought the plasma cannon, that shot big green fire balls, was just a weapon that harnessed the blood some how. And I became afraid that my blood was green, and if it ever reached the outside air it would explode. So I was careful for about a day until I fell out of a tree and scratched my arm real good and watched the tomato red blood ooze out of me expecting, any second, for it to turn green and blow up.

I noticed I said, "scratched my arm real good" isn't that interesting? Like if I barely caused harm to myself it would have been a bad scratch, because a good scratch is long and deep. Although if you go too far than you get a bad scratch, in the sense that if you don't seek medical attention you will bleed to death. Paper cut, bad. Vegetable knife slice, good. Car accident gash, bad. It seems like any laceration should be bad, but I hear people say things like, "Yeah, than I cut myself real good."

Good for who? Good for the thing that cut you? Good for being cut? Good for the blood? Good for the scar afterward? That has to be it right? A big flesh wound that looks worse than it actually is. Those kinds of wounds people call, 'good ones.' I wonder why that is. I think it is for scar recognition.

When I cut myself badly at work across my left bicep--er I mean, goodly, cut myself real good-- I went around and showed everyone because it looked really bad--er, good-- but it didn't hurt much, but it bled a lot, anyway I showed everyone. The guys were like, "Awesome man!" and sounded envious. The girls were like, "you should get some disinfectant on that." And one time this woman named Kitty was next to this checker from Alabama named Phil who was a part time body guard for celebrities (this was at the Vons I used to work at) and I walked up to them both and showed them the gash and Kitty said, "Wow, that's gonna leave a gorgeous scar," and Phil said, "Hell, yeah. Boy, how'd you get that?" And I told them the story:

I was reaching over the desk to get this paper that fell behind and this board slipped and cut me.

They both looked at each other before Phil said, "I'd keep that to yourself," and Kitty said, "Yeah, I'd make up a story involving being mauled by a mountain lion."
"Or a bear," Phil chimed in.

So now, if you ask me I tell the story of how I was mauled by a bear, and the scar looks totally believable.

But I think I want to be abducted by aliens now. Ask me in a few days, maybe I will have been abducted. They left a burn scar, I have proof!

The Girls Locker Room.

I just read a list of random questions. One of them brought back a memory.

"Have you ever peeked in into the opposite sexes locker room?"

I remember in 7th grade my friend Alex and I would rush out of the boys locker room to get to the other side of the gym where the girls locker room was. We had to get there before they got outside. Once there we would take turns boosting each other up and spying on them.

The angle was bad and nothing like we expected. I expected a sauna of naked beauties bathing one another. What I got was a small vantage point of the lockers and once I had enough times to see one of them in a bra and panties!

Which reminds me the first time I ever touched a breast. The first time I can remember anyway. It was around the same time. I was boosting Alex up and he jumped down and pretended to be in the middle of a conversation.

"How big was it?" he said really loud.
"This big!" I said and threw my hands out wide to either side. The back of my right hand smacked squarely into Claire gardener's left breast. (Puberty was especially good to her) It was a soft supple surprise. She gasped. I apologized. And when she walked away Alex gave me a high five. To the left hand, because the right hand was now sacred.

For the next few weeks I became the resident breast expert. A position I hold still to this day.
It is funny how things happen that shape you for the rest of your life.

I read every book on the subject I could get my hands on. Not because there were pictures of naked boobs, but because they were so mysterious and I thought that by learning about them I could have some power over them. This led to books about the female body. And books about sex. And shortly there after I became the resident Sexpert, never having ventured there myself until I was much older but able to explain everything to my friends.

A girl I was dating before I was engaged to Loo told me that, "You could look at a map of Italy, read about the people who traveled there, but until you are there you will have no idea what it is like." She was much more experienced than me. In fact, all of the women I was ever with were more experienced then me. Ha! I never thought about that before. Anyway, the joke was if you ever wanted a guide for Italy I was available. I could tell you the metro times, distances between places of interest and the best places to eat. ( I know nothing about the real Italy.)

But there is something about me that craves information and knowledge. If it is especially interesting I will never forget it, as was the case for female anatomy, biology and physiology. I know more about my woman's body then she does, which makes me feel special.

For example: A few years a go a new Birth Control pill came out called YAZ. It was clear that Loo needed a BC pill to stabilize her emotional states. I didn't like the one she was on because of the side effects--migraines, heavy periods, putting on weight and lethargy among so many others. I did a lot of research and suggested she switch to YAZ. We went to the doctor and now she is much better off because YAZ is a much lower dose of estrogen then the ortho tricyclene stuff she was using before. Her emotions are much more even, her migraines are virtually gone and she is much more active. Now I am the lazy one that doesn't want to go anywhere or do anything because I am so busy and tired from school and she jokes that I need YAZ. And when I am particularly grumpy she has offered me the little white pill.

"Here. You need this more than I do," she says with a serious face.

And I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Slice of life

I dislike that nomenclature.

10:21 AM, science library, friday:

I just finished my lecture for Religious Myths and Rituals. The professor hopes to convert us science types, which is starting to get old, but I will tolerate it indefinitely.

I get to work today at the tire store. It has been about a month since I last worked. I left the Camarillo store behind for the Norco store here. While I was away and transitioning, the Owner of the nation-wide company decided that he had better put a nation-wide freeze on hours on account of the lackluster economy. I was sure there was no hours to be had for me, but I talked the manager into it and he is going to modify the store schedule to fit me in. It has something to do with my experience and ability to do anything at the store. In February it will be five years at the same company. Where has all the time gone?

The uniform for the job follows a funeral motif, one that can be regularly confused with the uniforms of Applebee's and Pep Boys Auto to great hilarity. "Waiter, hey waiter, where is my food?" me: "The cat got it. So sorry." But I digress. As I moved up to the cabin I left my Black shoes behind, the ones that are NEEDED for the job. They don't like it if you wear non-black shoes, and if I were a rookie they would send me home to get them. But I am a veteran and it can be over looked if I sell enough tires to make up for this outrageous transgression.

The cabin doesn't have a mailbox. All my mail goes back home, and the next time my parents or Loo come up they will bring it, or when I go back for some reason (laundry) I will collect it. So my text books are at home right now, not at the cabin, and I have to go home this weekend to collect them. My parents said they would come up this weekend last weekend. And then vacillated the rest of the week until last night when they confirmed that they wouldn't be coming up. Which is a bummer, because the books are there and I need them Monday, and they can't be mailed to me in time. I wish they could just have some integrity and mean what they say when they say it. I said if they didn't come up that I would have to come down. I said that Monday, and they forgot.

My only choice is to drive home from work late Saturday night, which means I will have to leave my Boyos behind (male rex rats). The drive from Norco to Ojai is about two hours depending on the 405 which always likes to piss me off. I will arrive in time to go to bed, and wake up sunday, my one day of reprieve, rest and relaxation.

Just kidding about that rest and relaxation thing. It just so happens that Loo's Maxima threw a code (check engine light came on). My brother, a brilliant car guy, showed her how to check the computer to tell her the trouble code, which can be looked up using the factory manual and diagnosed with a chart. One of the thee Oxygen Sensors broke. I get to fix that Sunday. I have never done it before, but being a car guy myself, and having already replaced the other two, this should be no trouble at all...ha! In addition to that small job, her Brake light on the instrument panel turned on, which means her brake fluid is low, or her brake system is about to fail, either one. I have to investigate that. Of course if I were there I could simply open the hood and look at the brake fluid reservoir to see if it is low or not, or if it needed to be replaced. But Loo has no automotive skills, and can't check it for me, cause she doesn't know where it is, what it looks like, what color is bad, and how much is too much et al. Plus, she gets anxious and nervous and says, "I can't do this, can't you just look at it yourself?" Which is mildly frustrating because she says she wants me to show her how to do things like oil changes and brake jobs and the like so she can do it herself without me. I have done many oil changes by myself now, despite her enthusiasm to relieve me of that duty.

In addition to the O2 Sensor and the brake inspection, I will probably have to do another oil change on her car by myself, and my own car as well which will naturally progress (I never see this coming) to washing her car, which makes me want to wash mine because its dirty and all the stuff is out.

In addition my Dad is building a shed so he can put his larger tools for wood working in it, which would clear up a lot room in his shop, which has become the place to store anything worthy of being stored, and as he says, "It is gumming up the works." He has most of it done, except the roof. So Between oil changes I will be helping him with heavy lifting and the like because I am the only one who can. Mom isn't strong enough, Kevin had major chest surgery and has a ten pound maximum lift limit, and Loo isn't strong enough either. If it is too heavy for Dad and I to do alone I will have to call Mike who we call, "The Wookie" for obvious reasons (He never gets lost, he is super strong, rather furry and can imitate wookie noises).

In addition to that, I imagine I will have to mow the lawn, change the cat box, pick up the dog poop, vacuum the front room, clean the rat cages, change the water in the fish tanks, clean the snake cage and clean my room for no other reason than because I happen to be there.

Did I mention Homework? I'll just do that after all those other trifling tasks.

On the positive side of this visit I will get to enjoy the company of my family because we havent seen each other in two weeks and we get along very well. I will also enjoy a nice dinner, which I haven't been enjoying lately at the cabin by myself. I will get to take a shower without using melted mountain snow runoff like at the cabin. And some where in there I will probably get hugged or maybe even kissed by Loo, which I have been without this last week. She will probably ask that we go out on a date because we haven't done that in awhile. I think the reasons are evident in this post, but it always ends up on me somehow. i.e.: I do all these things because secretly I don't like her, don't want to go out with her, and keep her around as my personal play thing.

Then I will most likely come back late Sunday night or early Monday morning (class is at 9AM, the 405 makes the trip at least three hours) and hope I wont be scheduled to work that day. I'll find that out at work today.

That about covers it. Enjoy your weekend.

wtf mate

So I sit here on the 3rd floor of the science library at UCR waiting for my discussion class on religious myths and rituals at 9pm. And while I do that (wait) I am reading the other posts of all my friends and acquaintances. I posted 3 things last month. Why can't I just post all the time. The posts are fun to read. This month my favorite is Erin. She makes me laugh. And this post is prompted by one of hers..something about the rules of coupling for girls.

I have this book called, "The Rules. How to get Mr. Right" It is actually a girly book about how to acquire a husband, not a boyfriend and explains the difference. And it is a collection of rules that when used properly will result in success of the husbandly kind. I feel guilty about talking about this book, cause I am not supposed to have it, not being of the girly persuasion myself.

I have mixed feelings about this book. When I was younger I used it against my female adversaries in the dating arena. The book talked about the right kind of behavior to attract a husband, and the other kind of behavior that attracts a boyfriend. A boyfriend in this case representing the chance for an often shortlived romantic relationship. It was interesting what behaviors called to which types of guys. And it goes on to give rules and tips and tricks for many situations. You (ladies) have to come accross to the potential husband as not easy, but not impossible, that the proof is in the pudding and you are worth the chase and the wait and all the trouble that this little book puts the guy through.

This book is especially devious because many things are subliminal, and if the boy wanted a short-lived fiery romance he might find himself tricked into a long courtship. This book also summarized the things boys do (the way they act) that attracts brief romantic encounters and long romances from women.

The book says you must act a certain way to discourage the boyfriend type guy looking for a brief romantic encounter, and encourage the courtship type guy. I don't have the book in front of me but here is one of the rules:

When a boy calls to make plans for the weekend he must do so prior to tuesday of that week.

If he calls up Wednesday, he is too late, tell him you are busy and if he would have called you sooner you might have been able to change your plans, even if you had no plans. DO NOT GO, it will be hard but you must not go! If you were to agree to his invitation, say to a Saturday date when he called on a Thursday or Friday you would show him that he doesn't have to plan or work very hard to get your time or attention and that you do not require consideration or thought to be taken out. This starts low expectations on his part and he will continue from this low standard and the relationship is doomed to fail! Only agree if you want some sex, knowing that it wont work out as you pursue other options!

Here is the official top ten rules list: http://www.therulesbook.com/topten.html

Anyway, the point I was trying to make is that I used this book to counter the girls who were reading it and using it on dates, which was a surprising number, I found out later. And it worked beautifully. It became a game, I knew where the conversation was going, how to perfectly answer the tough questions they were supposed to ask (some of them didnt even vary the order in which thery were written!), and how to get around the defense mechanisms of time, waiting, number exchanging, etc. It was very devious of me, if I do say so myself. That was back when I played games. And I didn't enjoy the dishonesty of that game.

It was totally useless against girls that had never heard of it, girls that meant what they said without any subliminal trickery, girls that didn't fit into a "type," girls that told you exactly what they thought about you if you asked, girls that were honest, girls like my Fiance.

She was the one that showed me that all the trickery I was learning was a stupid, dishonest game that wasted everyones time. Her simple, yet strong, sentiments spoke volumes about her character. She was the most honest girl I had ever met. When asked a silly question, she didn't dismiss it out of hand, or change the subject as "The Rules" urged, she answered the question. It was disarming. The thought came, "You mean all I have to do is bemyself, and if you like that person then the skys the limit? No tricks, no games, no espionage/subterfuge?"

(I suppose it helped that I was exceptionally handsom and charming and buff and had known her very well for ten years before I met her)

I know her, and she knows me. And we like those people, so it's good.

But that Book. I do not like it on principal. And while it encourages some nice things--make yourself stand out, place yourself in social situations were boys will be etc.--it also encourages dishonesty. You can't say what you want when you want because it will break the rules. You can suggest a place to go that you like, because that is his job and it breaks the rules. You can't ask him frivolous things because its against the rules. You must act a certain way, talk a certain way and be someone you are not. Some may argue that it is modifying who you are, but the modified person only exists when on a date or on the prowl for a date so it is a mask, a facade. (Which is a french word with a little C thing like a capitol letter "Q" on it) And I don't like facades. People that are genuine all the time are my favorite people and that is who I surround myself with.

And as I sit here at the science library in a cubicle all by myself, I chuckle about the irony of all those people I "surround" myself with. LOL

IN summmmmmmation: Be yourself, even if that self is a kook and a half, you may draw another kook and a half and you will have 3 kooks!

*Reading rainbow jingle* da dum dum

Cabin day 1

Day 1, monday, september 22nd, 9:40 am:


Hello all,
I am here at the cabin. I left last night at 9ish. There was a lot of traffic, and stupid traffic at that, people driving really fast and almost crashing as they switched lanes at the last minute. The car was packed tightly and there wasn’t much visibility. My blind spots were blind and my left and right signals were more like left and right tentative meanderings as I waited for a horn from somebody who was next to me, if they were there at all. But I played it safe and went 65 the whole way and waited until most people were gone and the road was empty to change lanes.

I arrived at 11:30 and unpacked the perishables and my boyos, Riley and Mijit (male rex rats). By the time I finished unpacking food it was midnight. I was a little scared about coming up here in the dark, and being alone. Because if I got stuck or something I couldn’t call for help, I’d have to depend on myself. It also meant if I screwed up with something I could only blame myself. Also last night my mind was not favoring me and brought up thoughts of the movie SIGNS (which scared me on a deep level...I can't explain it). The night was silent except for snapping twigs and nocturnal animals. I thought aliens were hiding in shadows some of the time. And with that frame to look and think through the creaking cabin and dripping drains did not help in the slightest. Before I fell asleep I looked at the boyos, and they were already asleep, so I figured if they were asleep, than I could do so as well. I hid under the cover and turned out the light
I set the alarm for 8:30 am and woke up at 8:11 and waited for the alarm to go off. The morning was quite a contrast to the evening. First of all the animals were awake and making their presence known. Right outside my window a female woodpecker, male blue jay and large squirrel foraged in the pine needles while a male woodpecker drilled the side of the cabin. It was quiet and beautiful with the sun shining through the spectacularly clean windows (thank you mom). When I woke up it was a bit chilly, because I hadn’t turned the gas heater on, just the water. But it was only 65, so I put some clothes on and unpacked the rest of the food, the boxes and cans and stuff. I wrote down what was there. I had a cup of coffee, and I think it is time for breakfast.
I plan: to eat breakfast, shower and head down the mountain to the campus to talk to the department secretary for a degree check, to find out how much more I have left to do, and also to check the credential information, because someone said I have to be “accepted” into the program, I can’t just take the courses willy nilly. Also I have to buy some rat food, some coffee creamer, lunch meats, cheeses, dish soap, and a dish scrubbie. When I get back I should look through the recipes and unpack my clothes. Its a busy day. And in summation, I think I am going to be OK, even though I miss you all.
Love
~Brian. 10:10am
ps: The time moves slower up here, so that should help with the homework, and hinder when there is nothing to do.

transitions

It's been a while since my last post. So an update: I continue to attend UCR this quarter. For course, I have advanced fiction, religious myths and rituals, and renaissance revolutions.

More interesting than that is that I had to move. For two academic years I resided within the religiose household of my aunt and uncle. And while I do not share their religious/ political convictions in the slightest, I assumed I could get along long enough to graduate. You know when you assume you make an ass out of... yeah.

It did not work. The problem was given the title, "differences in our world views" which is a polite way of saying they hate my philosophical, sinful, selfish, atheistic guts. It is worth noting here that I am intrigued by the many masks they wear. Let me explain.

They have a social mask, and wear the visage of a good christian man and woman with an ideal home life. They do not express affection towards one another, nor show anger at any subject.

At family gatherings they wear their family mask, one of care and concern. Obviously overdone, because such care and concern would have led to communication between bi annual family gatherings. Once they return home they take off all of their masks and the real people show themselves.

The unmasked people say and think some disgusting things I could not agree with, though they asked me to (kill the gays among them). My opinions were from a lowly atheist (that makes me a pagan right?), and therefore worth very little, which led to childlike treatment of me.

Even this I tolerated for two years because it was free living. And while monetarily that is true, I was taxed in other ways; ways in which had I known I would have had to pay, I would have stayed away and skipped the whole situation.

Some good things developed from those two years however. My tolerance for religion in all its forms has multiplied a hundred-thousand fold. It will never daunt me again. Not that I was afraid, but you know how phobias are cured by prolonged exposure to the cause of the phobia? Like letting a hydrophobic person stand in water and gradually step deeper and deeper until they are no longer afraid of water. It was similar to that.

I had a concealable disdain for religion as a whole, but now it does not effect me as it once did. I could go to church every week with them with no effect-- other than losing the time in a day for something else, like reading (or flossing the cat, har har). I can see things from the religiose perspective now that I could not before.

When the Reverend Falwel said that homosexuals were an abomination to God, I could see how and why he would think that, and how and why he would be surprised when people tried to disagree. The Bible clearly says it is unacceptable, why is there even a discussion?

Perspective and Point of View are writing skills I have acquired over the years at college. It is much easier for me to put myself in their shoes, so to speak, than I could two years ago. For that I am thankful because it allowed me to wear the masks they carry.

But I will never forget how I was treated, what was said and the true nature of these masked people.

On a totally different note, I now live alone at the family cabin in running springs. I still communicate with my friends and family when I come down the mountain. (The cabin is without phone reception or internet access.) I will compile my writings up there, and when I arrive on Campus I will post them. I already have one: Day 1 at the cabin to be posted shortly after this one.

My Fiancee, hereto referred to as Loo, is joining me this weekend. It has been one week since I saw her, and I am very excited to see her, though I don't know what we will do to keep busy...

Horse power

I like horses. I know very little about them, but I like them a lot. I especially like it when horses can do things that machines can't. It seems to make everyone smile because of the old ways undertone. "See where technology has failed? See where the old ways triumph!"

So I found this video of a truck that got stuck in the snow. They tried to pull it out with another truck, and that one got stuck. As it turns out, they got stuck near a farm, and on that farm they had some horses E-I-E-I-O.

A pair of these heavy draft horses (Percheron maybe?) came down and were hooked to the truck. Than they were given the "Giddyup!" command and they pulled it from the snow with ease. The truck weighs around 2 tons, which is around 4000 pounds.

Here is the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cq5dd7JLk1s&feature=related

I continued looking and found a video of heavy draft horses in a competition pulling 11, 000 pounds or five and a half tons. So a piddly little 2 ton truck was hardly a warm up.

I started doing some research to see just how much they could pull. Instead I found (ignorant) people talking about the horrible sport that is heavy draft horse pulling. Saying it isn't right to force them to a life of pulling stuff, and it isn't right to work them so hard etc. etc.

They like to pull. And for centuries they have been bred to do just that. Like a Retriever loves to retrieve, over and over and over, and a Pointer like to point, heavy draft horses like to pull. In fact if you watch some videos of these heavy horse pulls you can see them prance and dance before a pull because they are so excited.

I would watch a show that has an old school vs new skool technology vs horse kind of thing. Pulling stuff, carrying things etc. I think that would be fun. I find that people are drawn to that sort of thing and enjoy watching it. If I were a network exec. I would look into that because it strikes a chord with most people.

Light Bulb

Every time someone says lightbulb I think about the guy who invented it and how people said he was a failure and he said--im not a failure, I just found 100 ways that don't work-- or something like that.

There are a lot of lightbulbs out there different shapes different sizes some long and some fat and some quite large--there are these huge lights at my work and the bulbs are 80 dollars and they are as big as my head and the store has a hundred of them to light everything up and they have all this stuff on the inside of them, they look like rigid curled telephone chords stretched between crystal curves and metal railings--those long light bulbs the fluorescent ones have no internal stuff going on at all--just tightly packed molecules of electro-conductive-illumination gas--reminds me of this time when I was really young like 9 or so and my mom told me to clean the bathroom mirror While I was cleaning that I saw the lamp above it was really dirty So I cleaned the outside of the lamp and when I looked inside I saw the light bulbs were filthy dusty so I sprayed them to get them clean--they were on and hot and they Exploded showering me with glass--I remeber feeling so bad that feeling that I had screwed up in only the degree that I could--now that I think about it it didn't explode it imploded because they only work in a vacuum and those tube lights are pressurized so those explode--but that reminds me of this time when I was making hot water for mom around the same time and I made it too hot and was told to cool it down so I took the glass measuring cup of boiling liquid and placed in a lukewarm pot of water and it shattered just like that lightbulb

light bulb

Such a strange thing--pear shaped usually with some kind of milky residue on the inside and curly tungsten that lights up in a vacuum when electricty passes through it--reminds me of a lightbulb burning out infront of me once--another time I thought I did a bad thing--so I told dad in tears that the light had burned out and it wasn't my fault and he went in to investigate--and he explained to me that it "Nova'd" which comes from supernova, to describe the brilliant camera flash and the ensuing darkness that follows--so then he unscrewed it and shook it next to his ear and said that it was bad--I thought that was magic that he could do that--he could come to any lightbulb shake it next to his head and know if it were good or bad--when I asked him how he knew he put it next to my ear and shook it and I heard the faintest rattling around inside of it--but it was white and frosted so I couldn't see inside and I remember being so curious to see how it looked now--it was a whole world contained in that little thing and I couldn't see it so I asked to see inside and he said it would just shatter and I asked why and he said it was because of the vacuum and walked away to get another bulb to replace it--and I thought it was weird to have a vacuum inside the light bulb--I never heard it turn on and they always stayed so dirty so it must have been a pretty poor vacuum to miss all that dust or as my mother said--you just weren't trying hard enough--light bulbs were an enigma to me--once I replaced a refrigerator bulb with a house bulb just to see what would happen and dad opened it up at night and pure divine, angelic light shined out of it and he jumped back and slammed the door--then he looked right at me--he knew-- I could never get away with anything But I always tried

light bulb

Once I was working on my car when I was 16 and I saw this tiny bulb the size of a jelly bean inside the dashboard that lights up all the gauges it was so small and it got really hot when it turned on--oh but when I was much younger I had a great idea and that was the solution to the energy crisis because the sun didn't always show itself for solar power plants we could just use a lot of light bulbs because they always shine and weren't effected by clouds and weather and stuff but no one thought it was as clever as I did so I kept it locked away until now

There is this light bulb in my room that is a tube-fluorescent kind twisted into a pear shape--I think thats pretty cool--we got them because they last longer than regular bulbs and require much less energy to work--but they sure are bright I have gotten use to it now and I almost require that any room I step into be brilliantly illuminated replacing bulbs with the newer ones when ever I can--I even alert other people about the new bulbs--they smile and nod saying they had better check that out--but I feel like such a freak to key in on their lightbulbs and tell them more than they ever wanted to know about light bulbs to the point it's uncomfortable and they will say anything just to get me to relent--I know it and they know it I just wish they could call me out for being such a weirdo and I could thank them for being honest

But light bulbs-- so the incandescent bulbs have this tungsten filament in there and tungsten is super hard--they use it to cut diamonds and drill massive holes in the earth--and the tube ones are full of a gas that lights up when electricity passes through them--they also have mercury in them and if you break one you are supposed to have a HAZMAT team come down and clean it up--which is funny if you talk to people in their 4o's and fifties because the dentist would give them globs of mercury to play with--I have always been so jealous of that especially listening to grown men and women talk about how cool it was laughing and sharing mercury exploit stories-- a whole world of playthings I can't be a part of--anyway yeah so those long tubes have mercury and some gas in them that lights up with current--so one side applies current and it passes from molecule to molecule and lights the whole thing up to the other end completing the circuit--but sometimes they flicker and make noise and such--thats from gradual leaking when the molecules are no longer as tight as they once were--not as dense as they were and it takes some time to make the jump between molecules--and then there are these headlights inside the fancy cars like BMW and Ferrari and such that are called HID's which means high intensity discharge--they have two prongs with NOTHING between them and one side builds electricity until the other prong looks so appealing it causes the charged prong to makes the electricity jump the gap like those gizmos in the old Frankenstein movie inside the doctors lab that Jacob's Ladder except this thing holds this tiny lightning bolt between two prongs indefinitely and the brilliant blue light is focused with fancy reflective surfaces--they are expensive and they piss other people off because they are more than twice as bright as every one else and they are of European design which means they point up and out more to illuminate twisty cobblestone streets-- but light bulbs

oh yeah back when it was invented you know how they got the bulbs to be in a vacuum--they filled the whole thing up with mercury then sealed it then pulled it out with pressure and put a cork in it to keep it pressurized--more mercury again all the cool stuff has mercury in it--mercury is a poison and people are afraid of it and its in fish and I found out why--our coal plants burn coal and there is mercury in coal and it gets burned and blasted into the sky until it drifts down onto the water and mixes with the nutrients and then little dinoflagellates eat them and plankton soak them up and krill eat those and anchovies eat those and baby tuna eat those and juvenile tuna eat those and sailfish and sword fish eat those and sharks eat those and then we eat sharks and sword fish

But if they had a light bulb...Like that one deep sea fish that has a bioilluminescent thing on its head that it dangles to attract food

I want a lightbulb on my head that attracts food how cool would that be--I would have to wear sunglasses all the time though