Catching Fireflies 101

Ten minutes here we go. Yesterday I caught fireflies for the first time ever in my life. I wanted to write a dedicated piece about the experience, but I don't know when I'd get to it. I' guess I'll do it now, no reason not to.

To catch fireflies you need two people; one person to catch 'em and on person to hold the jar that holds 'em. The second person has the harder job, I think, because the fireflies like to climb straight up and you got to shake or tap the jar until they fall off the walls. Then you can pop the top and dump the new bug in and carefully seal it to make sure you don't crush any sneakers that got by you.

First person is the firefly hunter and has to be able to see them when they aren't lit up. They move away from you if you approach too fast. From twenty feet away or so they dart left or right quickly, but if you calmly walk up to them you can catch them quite easily. The firefly's favored means of escape is to slowly and steadily fly straight up. All you do is walk to them and extend your hand under them and raise your hand, scooping them right out of the air. Than you gently close your hand so as not to crush them and go to person number two who taps the jar, pops the top while you open your hand and shake the firefly into the jar.

After you catch a bunch--we caught 50ish--you take the jar to the basement and turn out the lights to watch them light up the darkness. The 'fire' of these fireflies are a neon yellowish green, it really stands out. After your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the basement you will find the light of a firefly is almost blinding. When they light up.

But between the intermittent neon flashes there is a time when the fireflies climb all over the inside of the jar while their butts aglow like little neon embers, it is really faint--like a distant star, if you look right at it sometimes you can't see it, but if you look away you can. In the darkness all you can see is the bug butts neon glow randomly walking around, sometimes together sometimes not, all over the place, like bioluminescent deep sea jellyfish drifting in twisting currents.

They looked like stars to me, stars twisting into galaxies, galaxies drifting across the cosmos with the occasional neon-supernova flash.

I wanted to take a picture or a video, to show people--you, friends, family, the world--this amazing thing. But the camera's back lit display polluted the darkness with its piercing light, drowning out the soft glow of the fireflies. I tried to cover it with my hand, and succeeded in trapping the light pollution, but the camera wasn't sensitive enough to catch those minuscule embers.

It reminded me of something my dad said to me once. He use to photograph lots of stuff until one day he suddenly stopped. Didn't even bring his camera to the family summer trips anymore. Now you can't even get him to take a picture. I asked him why.

He said, "I find that I focus on getting the picture just right, but overlook the experience, the people around me, all of it. When I get home and we are talking about our memories, It's like I wasn't there; my memories are of lining up the perfect shot. I decided it's better to see it with your eyes around the people you love than through a lens, oblivious." Or something like that. Ever since then it has been something that I am aware of, taking pictures or experiencing things fully.

After watching those bugs crawl around that jar in the darkness with my favorite person I felt really happy and thought I'd share it with you. I don't think I will ever forget those little guys crawling around the inside of the jar in the darkness.

After we were done we let them go. Outside we popped the top off the jar.

I wanted them to escape from the jar in a geyser of neon yellow lights like a violent quasar, happy to be free and fill the night with their fire.

But they climbed to the top and took flight one by one--no swarm, no geyser, no lighting up. Simply flying away into the night, invisible. Somehow, it was better that way.

The Great State Rivalry part 1

I dislike the frequency with which I write here, to that end I want to write at least 10 minutes, non-stop a day, everyday. It should be easy, you know? Like just 10 minutes, anyone could do that.

Loo keeps me pretty busy. we have a lot of fun and do lots of things. We went to the great bear music festival for a day, which was all folk music and fun, more fun than I thought. I think that is one of the reasons I like Loo so much is she pulls me out of my shell so to speak and gets me to go to things I would never go to on my own.

have I told you about the state rivalry? People here, some people I should say, have this inferiority/superiority complex about the state of Michigan being cooler than California. I can tell how effective that is because it hardly phases me. The way it usually happens is my manager at work will randomly walk up to me and say, "Hey California," which is my nickname because of the many like named people, we have two Ryans, a Brian and a Ben. From across the backroom , amidst the blasting of air tools and hoses those names all sound alike. The Manager likes to give orders to everyone at the same time and it gets confusing, so they call me California.

"Hey California, did you know our asparagus is the best in the nation? Way better than California's asparagus."

And then I said, "I was unaware California even made asparagus. Besides I personally don't like that so I don't really care."

"Oh yeah, our asparagus is amazing. You know what else is amazing?"

"No."

"Our strawberries here are way better than California's strawberries," he said. Now the gauntlet had been thrown down. I have been going to the Oxnard strawberry festival for years, and most of the strawberries that are made for the USA are made right there in Oxnard. I figured I knew a thing or two about what a good strawberry tastes like.

"I don't know about that, our strawberries are very tasty."

"Well, ours are better. Have you ever tried one?"

"No. Have you ever had a California strawberry?"

"Yeah in the store. The taste doesn't compare."

"You can't compare farm-fresh to store-bought."

"Our strawberries are very small, like a raspberry and full of juice. The juiciest thing you've ever tasted. In a couple months it will be the season and you can try some Michigan strawberries and judge for yourself."

"Looking forward to it."

That was a month ago or so. I went to a pick-them-yourself strawberry field out here in Michigan with Loo and her mom. All the while being told how our California strawberries don't compare to Michigan strawberries by every Michiginian who heard about the rivalry. I get to picking, and it reminded me of picking strawberries with mi amigo hispano hablante, or my Spanish speaking friend. I picked strawberries to see what it was like. He picked like ten times as many as I did, but it was tough work.

Michiginian strawberries are quite small, some of them are the size of raspberries, but most are twice that, or five times smaller than your standard California strawberry, which are quite large. We picked about 2 pounds worth of these berries. I don't remember what we paid, but we loaded up the car and headed back.

The conversation shifted between answering 4th grade brain teaser car game questions and inquiries about what would happen when the Michiginian strawberries trump the strawberries of my home in terms of flavor, juiciness and texture.

As we approach home people are getting excited. When we arrive home everyone is focused on getting the strawberries prepped at the expense of everything else, like unloading other groceries, which I did.

When I entered the house everyone was gathered around the sink washing strawberries off. Once that was done they placed the strawberry in their open mouths and bit down. Then they rolled their eyes and made moaning sounds, followed by, "Oh, Brian you have to try this!" And, "Oh these are delicious," and "Just when I think they can't get any better..."

I washed the strawberry off, opened my mind to the possibility of tastier strawberries than home, waited for my objectivity to emerge, closed my eyes, and plunked the berry into my mouth. I bit down.

The berry gushed its juices into my mouth, far more than I expected or was accustomed to, some of the juice leaked between my lips, down my chin, across my throat and into the collar of my shirt. As my teeth passed through the flesh more juice arrived and splashed all over my tongue. I felt the flesh and skin and seeds wedge between my teeth. The juice was unsweetened, and for lack of a better word, blandish. I chewed it up and swallowed it feeling that familiar strawberry aftertaste on the end of my tongue.

"I'm not impressed," I said.

"Well, you probably picked a bad one," Loo's mom said.

"Do me the favor of selecting a good one for me, please," I said.

In a concerted group effort the Michigan team rooted around the two pounds of strawberries to find the best of the bunch, the one strawberry that would prove, irrevocably, the dominance of Michigan strawberries over California's strawberries. Someone picked a berry up for the other to study while they kept rooting for a better one. Once that was done a second berry was held up against the first. Some silent deliberation ensued before they all agreed that this one berry was the quintessential Michigan Strawberry.

They gave it to me as though it was a ruby. I took it and repeated the same procedure as above. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, sunk my teeth into it and felt that unfamiliar juice gush out into my mouth and splash onto my tongue. This one was a little sweeter, I could taste it. It was a tasty berry, but there wasn't much to it--one bite and it was gone.

"That one was alright," I said.

"This was a bad batch," Loo's mom said and than frowned.

"Yeah," they all agreed. I repressed a smile about how quickly it had changed from "these are AMAZING," to, "this was a bad batch."

Maybe it's true that these berries were a bad batch, but we picked them right out of the ground from a bonafide strawberry patch in Michigan.

The Mi. berry was juicier, and smaller, but not as firm or as sweet as the giant Ca. berries which can sometimes take three or more bites to devour. So I'm going to keep an open mind, but for this round the score is California strawberry: 1 Michigan strawberry: 0

Besides this state rivalry thing has the added bonus of people trying all kinds of tasty strawberry desserts and treats on me. I have had strawberry shortcake, strawberry pie, strawberry medley and etc. Remember that the next time a situation like this presents itself. You could go along with it and say, "Yummy!" or you could build the tension with a "that's alright I guess." and get them to try to convince you otherwise. Tasty desserts could follow.

Make Art not War

Ever since the international community signed the Make Art Not War proposal one year ago intense socio-economic-political strife has ensued and today is no different.

Political tensions reached their breaking point yesterday between Ireland and England involving a tax dispute on Irish goods. “You can’t do that and not expect a reprisal,” said Sarah McConnell, 35 of Ireland, “Our boys and girls are ready to kill.” The boys and girls to whom she is referring are of course the Irish River Dancing Armada.

British PM Alistair Moline didn’t seem worried. “While the IRDA possess some skill in dancing with the lower half of their bodies, our boys and girls have mastered both the upper and lower halves. It doesn’t seem fair to have a dance-off competition against them.”

The dance-off will take place today at 6pm in a neutral arena created for these kinds of disputes. Ingrid Balantino of Julliard School and Fajkidf Ingstörolm of The Helsinki School will judge. Both professors have over a century of dance experience combined.

In other news the United Legion of Artistic Nations is meeting again today to discuss the many problems associated with the Make Art Not War proposal.

“Third world countries are ill suited to participate in the MANWP as a proper education and the study of art is not offered, but of course neither is a regular education, fresh water or food,” said German sociologist Joseph Kann in a statement yesterday. “Art is a luxury and one the people of the third world cannot afford. And studies have shown that western and eastern audience are enjoying tribal dance less and less, especially when in competition with B-boys, jazz and Ballet. The dances are unique to each tribe. Finding knowledgeable impartial judges for each dance is impossible. They will never be able to compete against the west, and will continue to fall behind.”

That hasn’t stopped Florida resident Jim Smithers from teaching the art of mime to the third world countries pro bono in an attempt to put them on an even playing field with the other nations in regards to the performing arts.

“It feels good to finally use my art for something good, like some humanitarian purposes,” Smithers says. “Already some great talent has taken my craft and used it to resolve land disputes in northern Kenya.”

When asked about how his Ugandan Mime Troupe would fare against South Africa’s Shakespeare Brigade at the ULAN conference next month he smiled and said, “They’ll need more than Ole’ Yorrick this year if they expect to win.”

***

In the US frustration mounts as giant banking firm Goldman Sachs uses Ingrid Gulen to lobby their case for congress. Ingrid is well known to have no American rival in the art of interpretive dance. Her motions have swayed congressional opinion in favor of Goldman’s recent proposals.

“It isn’t fair,” Senator Joe Binder (R-Texas) said. “A regular person can’t afford the skills of such an artist, only a major banking firm can put Ingrid [expletive] Gulen on their payroll.”

When asked about the banking firm’s arrangement with her Ingrid Gulen said, “For the first time ever I can completely devote myself to my craft, my art, my love and put food on the table for my family without the need of two other jobs. That has never happened before. I don’t intend to walk away from this.”

***

Federico Guzman de Capistraño the world famous expressionist painter was found dead in his mansion on the edge of Nice in the French Riviera last Friday. The autopsy revealed trace amounts of TXX in his system, TXX is a neurotoxin found in the puffer fish. Friends of Federico maintain that he hated fish with a passion and would not have eaten the famous sushi dish ‘Fugu’ while on holiday in Japan. Strangely his last painting depicted Fugu in its various sushi arrangements.

“I bet you anything the Russian’s killed him,” said Sebastion Miguel de Fuerza, a neighbor of Federico. “Everyone knew he had a ULAN commission to resolve a territorial petroleum dispute between Russia and Kazakhstan.”

The Kazakh ambassador made a statement over many of the allegations.

“The world grieves for the loss of such a talented artist, and while it is true that we had commissioned him through ULAN to resolve our dispute with Russia it is unfair to our northern neighbors to allege such a heinous crime was their doing.” When I asked him one on one about the chances of a favorable outcome for the dispute he simply sighed before saying he had no comment.

***

The Rust Belt continues to rust as more military technology is piled upon it. Battleships, fighter jets, tanks and cargo trucks sit in the humid sun and rust away by the ton. Environmental scientists are worried about the long-term effects of leaving eighty square miles of rusting metal open to the environment. They have already measured an increase in ozone and iron oxide in the atmosphere and so much metal in one area has created a hot pocket that is affecting global weather patterns, notably above Canada, which asked politely for the Rust Belt to be relocated further from their borders.

***

The ULAN Graphic Art Summit had to be postponed on account of technical difficulties. It will resume tomorrow at seven eastern standard time.

Therapy

...By the sword in my hand
I will conquer the land...(Tyr)

Its been too long, again. Seems like I can't keep this going everyday. I really need to do that, it feels therapeutic.

I talked to my best friend Mike last night. It felt really good. I feel out of sorts in this state with all its religiosity and ignorance, not to say my state is any better, it's just that back home I am use to talking with really smart people. My family is smart, my brother might be the smartest guy I know, my dad didn't go to college but his mind is sharp and he can follow what kev and I talk about and my mom is smart too.

A great example of the diffference is like how one time about a week ago Gammy asked why the corn on the cob she bought is so sweet, she didn't remember it being that sweet years ago. I knew the answer--oh that reminds me I don't think I am that smart myself, I just remeber smart things, in this case my bro and Mike talked about this and I commited it to memory--And I told her that a few years ago agricultural scientists modified the genes of corn to develope a third sweetness gene, making corn sweeter.

I might as have been talking about seamonsters. Nobody at the table believed me. So I asked them if they thought the corn they have now is the same the Aztecs used 3000 years ago. They said sure, why not. I had to explain to them corn or Maize was originally a grass that prehistoric people of MesoAmerica cultivated some 12,000 years ago. Through years of selective breeding they developed a plant that had larger and tastier parts until gene modification technology was created to change individual genes in a plant, rather than the all new genes you get from cross breeding. It doesn't matter. What ever, they didn't know and thought I was making it up. Back home they know that, and if they didn't they'd believe me and mike and my bro would back me up. I guess I'm not accustomed to people not believing me. I didn't know that about myself, as though I need the social acceptance. Why is that? I just need to be the smart guy I guess. But I usually don't like to be the smart guy.

I went to church yesterday with Loo. We have an arrangement, I go with her so she doesn't go alone and I hold the book, the singing book, whatever it is called. All I have to do is show up and hold the book, no more. There were times she wanted to go to church functions or 'help the homeless,' which meant evangelizing to them, rather than helping them. And she said I should help the people. I said trying to guilt them into joining the church is not help. I think help should be given without strings. If you want to help the homeless find a shelter that isn't owned by a church and volunteer to feed people. But see, nobody wants to do that because they wont get credit for it. People want credit for doing something good. I think doing something good is the reward and I don't want credit, at least not the ostentatious credit people seem to need. They get there name on a list that goes in the paper with letters from homeless people thanking people by name. Meanwhile the homeless stay in the shelter.

What am I talking about? I guess its pretty random, pero asi es la vida.

My brain jumps around randomly, or at seeming randomness.

Did you know there isn't a shred of evidence for the Jewish Exodus out of Egypt? 400,000 slaves wandered the desert for 40 years and didn't leave a trace of any evidence they were ever there. Israeli archeologists have had to admit as much, which was poorly publicized. If it were known by the majority of people that there is no evidence for an important biblical story such as Exodus it might force them to confront the reality that there wasn't a Jewish exodus, that the whole story was fabricated.

Why?

That's the question I want to know, although I can hazard a guess from my understanding of ancient history. Jerusalem was ruled by a pathetic group of people that repeatedly lost many wars against powerful enemies, namely against Sargon of Akkad. Babylon, Sumeria, Nubia and Egypt knew about each other--and traded often-- as well as the "violent death cult to the north" (Jerusalem). IT is quite possible that because Jerusalem failed to have an empire, or any amount of success it resented those other kingdoms that didn't fail. Perhaps that would explain how the biblical account of ancient history has little to do with actual ancient history as we know it today. Perhaps that explains why the bible talks of destroying Babylon, Sumeria, Egypt and Nubia through plagues, prophets and the like. Whereas the reality is much different and those places are still here, meaning they couldn't have been destroyed.

I can see it now, see them sitting down fabricating stories of victory in war, and the oral tradition passing that on until the battles become wars, tribes become empires and Jerusalem, with the creator of the universe on their side, beats everyone with his magical powers.

I can't believe people still believe that story. It seems an obvious farce.

Sam Harris said, "An atheist is no more than someone who has listened to the claims of religion, read the Bible and found the claim ridiculous."

breakfast rant

I suggested Loo and I take her dad out to breakfast this morning.

I regret that now. He is a religious wacko. Every world event goes right back to the bible. The peace flotilla and the gaza strip? Yeah, God says 927 times in the bible that the jews shall have their own state, sorry Palestine, God has decided where the jews shall be, in his role as an omniscient real estate broker.

"God gave them their own state," he said.

"You mean the British gave them their own state right after world war II, right?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, body language clearly saying no, brian, you don't understand, you are full of it, and mistaken. Like a child stuffing his fingers in his ears and yelling, "nah nah nah nah nah" so he can't hear anything you say.




(I don't even want to recall the conversation I am so angry. He is a grown man using the tactics of children. He wouldn't listen, couldn't listen. He lives in a fairytale world of biblical prophecy, angels, demons, and Satan's influence. He thinks everything is progressing to the end times, and he is looking forward to the rapture, talks about it everyday. You know that magic time when the best thing that could ever happen happens: Jesus returns to earth for the second time and takes with him all the good Christians and leaves behind the sinners who will rot in a literal hell on earth covered in boils. It's ugly. It's an ugly belief I can't imagine living in a world where that is your reality. That you look forward to it.

Why isn't it clear to people that this particular world view is caustic to everyone here? The current world doesn't matter, it's the afterlife that matters. Here is where atheism can feel like a religion to the religious because most atheists do not agree on their point. Most atheists believe this is the only life you get, and in it you should do well for yourself and others. Most Christians believe you have a soul that is eternal that lives on after you body dies, and if you promise to believe in The holy trinity that soul lives on in paradise. Is it really a surprise these world views are at odds with one another? One thinks this is the life that matters, the other thinks that it doesn't matter. Real world data shows that the most nonreligious countries are the most generous to others during pain and suffering. Not the religious countries. All this talk of loving your neighbor and doing good for others is just that, talk. What's the point in helping people live good lives, when you believe that as long as they accept jesus as their personal savior they will go to heaven, live in a paradise without hunger or pain?

Genocides, wars and etc. gives the Pious thoughts of good Christian souls drifting to heaven to be in a better place, rather than the reality of the gruesome death they actually received. No more and no less, the end of their individuality, the likes of which will never exist again.)

Some jewels from her pops during breakfast:

Obama makes bad decisions because of Satan's influence, didn't you know? he is surrounded by radicals who want him to be in charge of the world government, all of whom are influenced by Satan. If he had asked me what I thought of all that...

(They have a saying about my family, "Be careful what you ask [that family/person in that family] because they WILL tell you.")

If he asked me I would have told him what I thought. I think he is delusional. And I would have gone from there, but he didn't ask me. He had no need to do so. He knows what he believes and it is irrelevant what anyone else believes. The Bible says its true, so it is. You can't talk to people like that.

But I did anyway and used his twisted delusions to wrap him up into a neat little bow before dropping him off at his house.

He said, "Satan uses his influence to affect people on the surface."

"Didn't the book of Job show plainly that Satan is a powerless figure? He has to ask God permission to afflict Job. How is it that he has any influence at all without God's express permission?"

"Everything he does fits into God's plan--"

"--So he is using Satan to accomplish His plan."

"Absolutely."

"So what is the point in fighting Satan's influence if everything he does is according to His plan? In fighting Satan's influence you fight God's plan. Are you aware of this?"

"Uhmm..."

End

ps: It makes me mad that it makes me mad. It shouldn't make me this mad, you know? But it does. I think if he were a stranger I could have brushed him off like a delusional lunatic, put him in his place. I have no respect for people like that. But it was Loo's dad. I had to bite my tongue, and all attempts to have a rational discussion failed.

There are a lot of Christians here, lots of religiosity, no place of mine feels safe from their influence. It gets to me, you know? I need my own space, a little bubble of rationality. I can't get it here. And some times I have to blow off steam, so realize this was written in anger and try not to read too deeply into it.

I feel like I have to say something inflammatory here. Add a cherry to this rant-sundae.

Your religion is only real in your head, please keep it there.

Updates

I wanted to get all of these out as a kind of individual blog post but I feel blogged down, so they are all going here. I am also tired so I dont know how far I'll get.

Since I moved to this state I have been living in Loo's Mother's basement like a troll. Two weeks ago Loo's sister AKA BeanBall, moved to her bf's house in Colorado. I quickly wrapped my troll tendrils around that room and made it my own. I now live on the surface, rather than under ground. Its nice, although different. The seasons have switched now from cold to warm and the basement is much cooler than the surface. I may have to return to my troll cave to beat the heat of the hotter days.

A side effect of being on the surface is more interaction with Loo's mother. She is really starting to bug me. Everything she says ends with a higher-pitched emphasis on the last word, which make everything sound like a question. She also tilts her head a lot making it seem like a question when it really isn't. The statement, "I'm going to get my keys now," becomes, "I'm going to gt my keys now [head tilt]." She also has this distant spacey look. It's hard to describe. It's as though the last word confuses her. There is a bunch more that she does, but I dont want to sound petty. Suffice it to say she has some idiosyncrasies and some psychological things going on with her that make interaction with her awkward.

Loo and I got a Lizard. He is about 4-5 months old, about a foot long and weighs about a pound. He is a savanna monitor, an intelligent lizard from Sub Saharan Africa. He will grow to be about four feet long and weigh 35 pounds. He eats crickets now and once a week he gets a mouse.

I read a cool book called God is Dead, a fiction story about what would happen if humanity was presented with undeniable proof that God had died. Everything falls apart in interesting ways, and some things stay together and get better, new jobs open up, new trends replace god and so on. A good quick read. I read it in a day. I recommend it.

TEDtalks is a free thing on the interweb where important people talk about the most important thing in their lives, kinda like campfire stories. I just watched a lady who was a neuro-anatomist that had a stroke and new what was happening to her and what was going to happen to her and describes what precisely was going on inside her skull and how it manifested itself in her visible world. For example she knew she was in trouble so she picked up the phone, but she could not remember what the numbers were or how to count, or read or speak.

I recently been on a volcano kick, and found the climate event that almost wiped humans out ~70k years ago. I heard about the event but never heard what caused it. A super volcano in Sumatra named Toba blew up, it was the worst volcanic explosion in the last 25 million years. It put hundreds of cubic MILES of stuff (ash, sulfuric acid, etc) in the air that drifted around in the atmosphere in a western fashion wiping out all kinds of animals including us. Our population dropped down to about 1000 mating pairs in Africa 70k years ago. That is a small gene pool and explains why we currently have lots of genetic disorders, like cancer, tumors and etc, the gene pool was small, lots of inbred ancestors. Huh. That explains a lot.

I am not religious in the slightest, but Loo is and I have been going to church with her to spend time with her because she doesn't want to go alone, and I dont want her to be sad. I dislike church a lot, but I love Loo, so I continue to go. She believes in God and I do not. People think that is weird, "Like, how can you two be around each other with such divergent belief systems??" Easy, she is cute as hell (as well as funny, smart and good to me) and I am funny looking (and smart I guess, there might be more but you'd have to ask her) and we enjoy each others company. The other day, quite randomly, I asked her what she thought about human evolution. She didn't get it, "how we changed from whatever to whatever to get here. I also dont understand how it all started with one single celled organism." But it turns out she was ok with the other stuff, everything in between. This is a popular christian argument I am very familiar with, it basically says there is a micro evolution and a macro evolution but they only believe in the micro one. But she didn't say she didn't believe, she said she didn't understand. It is my job to educate her. I'd be sad if she didn't believe in evolution. Its an obvious truth that is taken for granted, to ignore it is to ignore gravity.

Sleepy time