a space alien

...as we are

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 08:41:00 +0000

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."

- Anais Nin

If you knew me more intimately would you intimate yourself to me more? Are you better able to transmit your thoughts and dreams and desires and experiences to me when I'm an abstraction, as physical proximity might disturb such transmissions? Am I more valuable to you from a distance?

This is the contradiction of the internet. It's a Janus face. One side allows communication from different points in the world, bringing us closer and affording opportunities to connect that would otherwise be impossible. The other side is cruel. It exaggerates the geographical interstices, the chasm of hundreds or thousands of miles separating us, which only brings disparity. We can transmit to each other our secrets but it only reminds us how far apart we are that only electronic words can reach us - no facial expressions, no hugs, no touch, no breath, no sensation of warm skin, no aromas from our bodies, no voice, no sound of hearts thumping.

When we deny ourselves outings, experiences, people, various sensations - the heat from the sun, the coolness of the moon, the prickle of spicy peppers on our tongue, the vivacity of spoken gossip from a friend, the bracing sting of the first sip of an icy cold martini, the wind on our face as we drive along the coast - the only things we have to fall back on are thoughts, mind games, inventions - surrogates that further deny us truth, the truth of experiencing.

Our minds begin to fill in the blanks left by such denials of direct experiences. We start to create feelings and thoughts to replace what we hadn't acquired in the first place....in person. I wonder if this is because we were made to be experiential beings and without experiences we scramble to at least have something, anything, to grasp onto, even if they are false and invented and projected. Is it really better than nothing?

photo: Boden Sea, Uttwil, 1993. ©Hiroshi Sugimoto

So, such is my life at the moment. If I wanted to I could turn off this laptop and go out for a walk. I hadn't done much anything this year. I'm broke. I can't work because there are no jobs. I can't travel anywhere. All I can do is wait for things to get better so I can make my move. I'm like a monk in a tower; I have views but they're of things far away, people I can't meet in person, places unreachable to me.

I'm out of the market for romance. My life isn't set up for it, there's no accommodation, especially in this town. Even friendships are tricky to maintain. I have a couple of local friends but it's expensive to go to out with them. Online friendships are even harder. The more we reveal ourselves to each other the harder it gets because we'd rather reveal ourselves to each other in person.

I can never understand people who swear by love affairs online, that they love having a boyfriend/girlfriend who lives in Sydney or Tokyo or Prague and they instant message each other everyday. What the hell kind of love is that? It feels so.....detached. That's not love, that's torture. LOL! It's a relationship you can switch off and walk away from whenever you have disagreements. Like an appliance. How convenient. But you can't take it to bed and make love to it, dine out with it at the bistro, enjoy a lovely conversation with it over cocktails, or lay your head on it and listen to its heartbeat.

I have no one in my life. I accept that. It seems like it would hurt knowing that it's a byproduct of other technicalities I suffer through presently. But strangely enough it doesn't hurt. Maybe it's because I've grown numb, I don't know. What I do know is that my acceptance of it helps; it lessens the pain of loneliness. What would really hurt is if I didn't accept it but at the same time knew that there's nothing I could do about it, either, for as long as it lasts.

Another thing that lessens the pain is knowing that it probably won't be this way forever. Things have ebbed and flowed in my life before. Why should this be any different?

I am the dynamism of my experiences.

and this boy was happy

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 02:30:00 +0000

Back in art school years and years ago a close friend gave this illustrated children's book to me as a Christmas gift. As it happened, after we both received our Bachelor of Fine Art degree she and I slowly drifted out of touch. I kept the book. It wasn't until years later that I realized the story of The Giving Tree was that of me and my parents. And after my dad died a few years ago it's now just me and Mom (my siblings live their own lives, dispersed across the country).

Mom? She is the Tree.

I can't read this book without crying towards the end, and even now as I type I'm tearing up. How can something so simply told leave one with such heavy and profound emotions?

catch up with me

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:47:00 +0000

Listen to it loud.

It's autumn.

I hadn't really been updating this blog for while mostly because nothing interesting has been happening for me since the last time. Things around me, though, move along with their own momentum. Me, I'm still in a kind of limbo.

My close friend and niece K plans to come down from the bay area to visit in a couple weeks. Whether she actually does is uncertain, she lives a rather organic life steeped in certain emotions. My other friend G plans to visit on Halloween weekend. If they both come as planned it will be a much needed break each time from my mom. I practically never get out anymore, primarily out of lack of momentum and thrift.

I don't plan on taking up job hunting again until early next year, when it'll be almost a year since I've been employed and enjoyed a steady income. I only hope I'm still marketable, the longer you don't work the less valuable you're perceived to be. But I'm fairly optimistic. Relying on mom for handouts is taking its toll on me, though it's not too sufferable because I'm pretty much her personal assistant. The free home cooked meals are awesome.

Much of my time lately has been spent watching back to back episodes of Dexter via Netflix. I've been gaming intensively, too. Recently finished Batman: Arkham Asylum, one of the finest games I've ever experienced. Also working on Wet off and on, when I'm in a cheap, filmic, campy mood. But my current fixation is on the upcoming Dragon Age: Origins, Bioware's next epic sized RPG. You know what that means - I'll be "gone" for the next few months.

I'm thinking of joining a gay men's support group again, like I did in Oregon several years ago. There's one that's very close to me, but I need to find out how it works and if the program I'm on can pay for it if there's a charge. It could ignite some kind of a social life for me, something I hadn't had in a long time, at least on a regular basis.

I can't really complain that much. I have good home, a warm bed to sleep in, a full tummy, and the epitome of a selfless, loving, devoted mother. But I'm still in limbo. Again. Not much I can do about certain things, like the dearth in the job market. That one's just a matter of time. My ideal gig would be a good full-time job, a fairly robust social life, and being able to look after Mom. I only hope I don't go crazy waiting things out for it all to come together, whenever that may be.

fuck Kafka

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 05:46:00 +0000

^ Epicurus most likely had a lot of things to teach Kafka. Navel gazing isn't one of those things.

In a gaming community I frequent, a fellow member posted this:

Where do they come from and where do they go?

Why do people create knowing that it will eventually be destroyed? Why do people cling to life knowing that they must someday die? None of that will have meant anything once you do.

Kefka may have been completely batshit insane, but he raises a good point. Why do we do the things we do? What does it mean to live? Why do you insist on living and finding happiness knowing that it is temporary and death is probably eternal? What is your response when you are faced with these questions?

I replied with this:

First of all, I wouldn't trust Kafka to be my guru even if I were considering razor blades on my wrist instead of on my unshaved face. The guy most likely didn't know shit about enjoying himself, he was emo before emo was emo. Amazing writer, though.

Secondly, I have no idea if there is an afterlife (I'm atheist) but damn shit if I try not to have as much fun as I possibly could in this life I have now and to be as good as I can to other people.

I don't "cling" to life. I make hot passionate love to it. I lust for it and in it. Not because I'm desperate, but because it's there to take advantage of. It's not death I'm scared of, it's the absence of living.

Years ago I nearly died myself, from a medical condition, so I have some idea how it would feel to be on that "event horizon" of existence. It taught me a lesson: be good, have fun, lust is your friend, and build and create and enjoy while you're around and not give a shit if it all ceases to exist when you do. Because you have nothing else better to do, and what good would it do to just mope in a dark corner?

The idea of the worthlessness of this life hints at a lack of imagination and self-esteem, and certainly to a kind of laziness in imbuing value and a sense of time well spent, no matter how brief that time may be and no matter how mysterious dying may be perceived in terms of what may or may not come afterward.

Oh, I've done my share of navel gazing. The difference is that I got the fuck over it. My navel only looks interesting for so long, you know.

I could use another Mexicola (coke, lime juice, and tequila). Cheers!

test pup

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 12:58:00 +0000

Cellspin, which makes blogging from my iPhone possible, can now upload video captures I made. Hopefully this one will go through and you'll be abl to see Emoo, my niece's puppy that we watched last week while niece was away.

Uploaded by www.cellspin.net

storefront for postcard

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 23:42:00 +0000

^ "Look at me here, here on my own again, up straight in the sunshine..."

I had a curious dream this morning. It seemed to be set in the early 60s because of the clothes we wore, dungarees and windbreakers and bright pastel colours, almost like West Side Story. I was close friends with this one fellow (no one I would know in real life) and he and I had a history together as platonic friends. Then he befriended another young man and we three hung out together. But then it looked to be my friend was getting very close (non-romantically) to his new friend, to the point where he ignored me more and more, even when the three of us were together.

In the evening we went into this shop along a riverfront and they sold postcards and other paper goods, the entire place was practically dripping with cards from floor to ceiling. There was no clerk to be seen. My friend and the new friend were laughing and joking together while looking at the merchandise and completely forgot all about me. I was so upset by this that I left the shop and stood by the water and eventually went home.

I then found myself the next day passing by an empty shopfront in the city and stopping at the window. I knew somehow that that space was accepting proposals from artists who want passersby to see their work from the street. So I took them up on it and had a large foam core sign made up that featured comments from me about how sad I've been because my friends had abandoned me, and I hadn't heard from them and I had since done other things, like help poor homeless people and other socially progressive work. I placed the sign in the window. Next to it was a large photographic print of myself standing at the riverfront in jeans and my windbreaker, my face blacked out but still showing my head bowed down.

People began to stop and look and read the words. I knew that it was just a matter of time before my friend would see it, but that if he didn't I had to move on, but at least the world would know that I had passed through and did things.

north: part 2

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 02:41:00 +0000

^ K made us delicious green salad with goat cheese and vinaigrette. It was hot in Petaluma that day, though soon after, we motored to the Bodega coast, where it was chilly.

Reading "Henry And June" at 32,000 ft., wanting badly to break down & cry but am flanked by passengers. Do they even have a molecule of awareness of the depths in themselves they've overlooked with petty concerns and quotidian obsessions?

- iPhone journal entry, Thursday 16 July '09

After getting my first intense but unintended tanning session on his deck in the clear and hot afternoon, G and I motored to the Mission neighbourhood to meet K and her man, M, for dinner. It was at Cha Cha Cha, a stylized Caribbean joint with a proclivity for loud music and a jovial young crowd. It was great. Handshakes and hugs aside, we were lead to our table. The food was rich and fattening, as was the conversation.

It was laughingly good time. But as we took care of the tab, it was then time to go. You could say that G handed me over to K and M for the next few days as I was to stay with them across the Golden Gate, an hour north of downtown.

It was while since I hung out with K, who couldn't stop giggling like a school girl. I swear her giggles are infectious - they make me giggle! It was good to see M again and finally get to talk with him at length. The last time I saw him was a year prior, when I first met him, and it was too brief. I'd describe him as a culture geek, full of rich knowledge on things from fencing to wines to where to dine in Rome.

> Crossing paths - Pasquale, M's sweet black cat, with whom I was so lucky to be acquainted. He had the softest fur. And demeanor.

But before we headed to his house, we had to go fetch A, K's sister and of course, my other niece there. A is studying at Davis so we drove towards the east bay to get her. It was great fun to see her again in all her wickedness. LOL! Her sense of humour so sarcastic it could easily be combined with olive oil and spices and poured over greens. That's how biting it is.

We finally plopped our gear on the floor of M's house in Petaluma some time after midnight. His black cat, Pasquale, greeted us, and our next day would be spent up the coast.

north: part 1

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 23:35:00 +0000

^ We drank beer, traded stories, bonded, and drowned in the sun.

I left the hideous LAX on the 16th and around an hour later found myself at SFO, the first day of a weeklong experience festival. In short, I got fucking sick of whoring out on news, politics, and over-analyzing the hell out of the recession, Palin, unemployment, Iran, Palin, same sex marriage, Rush Lamebaugh, Obama this and that, Palin, Palin, and Palin, and wanted to counter all that with situations where the last thing I want is to analyze anything.

And I'm not gonna lie. Part of why I went north for a week was to get away from N, who has become clingy and neurotic and I needed some breathing space so to return and be there for her again. I can barely take it anymore, we need to move to the Bay Area so I can have the occasional free time on a weekend while my oldest sister, Y, can be with her. It's maddening to just be out of the house for a few hours but get several calls on my cell phone from N. I can't get away. I feel my being there for her (by choice) is strangling what little life I have for myself.

I took Anais and Silent Hill with me. Because Anais is barely about analyzing and almost all about experiencing, and Silent Hill is existential, psychological, emotional - anything but lyrically intellectual.

The moment I disembarked the plane at the SFO gate I exhaled. It's a different world there, no matter if it's still the same state. It simply just feels different. I made my way down to baggage claim. I absolutely hate checking anything in, that's why I only take my big black backpack and my chocolate pod and carry those onboard. If I had my way I'd take only a book, my phone, and the clothes on me.

I called G at street level. G. We met online and immediately bonded and he is now my good friend. How rare is that today? Then again, G himself is rare. He and I have so much in common - a life's philosophy and standing founded on a mixture of acceptance, curiosity, edginess, mischief, rain, shine, joy, tears, heartbreak, love, loss, curiosity, cynicism, romanticism, sass, pleasure, and joie de vivre. He has stories and so do I. Our tales intersect here and there.

G picked me up outside and we immediately picked up our conversation left off by phone on a previous day. We drove to the Castro for lunch at an Italian place of his choosing. The waiter was sweet, patient, thoughtful. As were the two gentlemen sitting at the table near us. You can tell they've been friends for decades, something I wanted for myself.

After lunch we strolled through the neighbourhood. I love how this city bustles no matter where you are. I feel that people who live here are always, always aware of their immediate sense of place and how it permeates their lives. They come out, see their friends, shop, drink, eat, and make love with that awareness. At G's apartment we sat on the sun drenched deck and steeped ourselves in more conversation over beers. It was so clear and beautiful out. I took a video of the view on my phone.

I felt so at home in the city there. I felt I belonged there in a way I could never belong in Los Angeles.

Los Angeles is sleek. San Francisco has character. And I've been soooo fucking done with sleekness.

Related:

penninsular desires | a space alien

assessment

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 05:51:00 +0000

So I must be honest. My life as it stands right now is what I would call "noble complacency". I'm comfortable enough. But at the same time I feel I'm not once more being useful and productive and...well, just not living in a way that is concentrically enriching, substantive.

I state 'noble' in that yes, I am there for my mother. She is why I am here, and I am here for her. And yet I feel I'm with her at the expense of sucking the life out of me. I can't really say I'm proud of anything that I've achieved for myself besides being here for Mom and besides the one year stint of volunteering as a docent at the art museum and working with school kids.

My social life....well, I still don't have one. At least, not a consistent one. I don't feel that I have a life. I don't feel I'm growing. I want to work, I want to be out and about. I want experiences, I want to grow from those experiences. And I now cannot stand living where I live because it doesn't allow me to be so mobile. I don't have a car, and I DO NOT WANT A FUCKING CAR. But this place, this part of southern California, punishes me for not having one. It's as if it's telling me, "You are not a car owner, therefore you are nothing."

What's ironic is that I feel if I lived closer to San Francisco I'll have a far better chance at living a more enriching life, even with my mom. I must be there for her because I promised to be. Near S.F. I feel I would have the chance at balancing a life of self-growth and being a good reliable son. In the L.A. area all I feel is the goodness of being a good son. And that is sucking the life from me.

personal anthem

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 20:52:00 +0000

Hit 'HQ' for high quality | Alternate source (lyrics only)

High | Lighthouse Family

When you're close to tears remember
Some day it'll all be over
One day we're gonna get so high
And though its darker than December
What's ahead is a different colour
One day we're gonna get so high

And at the end of the day
Remember the days
When we were close to the edge
And we wonder how we made it through
And at the end of the day
Remember the way
We stayed so close til the end
Well, remember it was me and you

'Cause we are gonna be forever you and me
You will always keep me flying high in the sky of love

Don't you think it's time we started
Doing what we always wanted
One day we're gonna get so high
'Cause even the impossible is easy
When we got each other
One day were gonna get so high

And at the end of the day
Remember the days
When we were close to the edge
And we wonder how we made it through
And at the end of the day
Remember the way
We stayed so close til the end
Well, remember it was me and you

'Cause we are gonna be forever you and me
You will always keep me flying high in the sky of love

'Cause we are gonna be forever you and me
You will always keep me flying high in the sky of love

This is my song. It is what keeps me looking up and towards the horizon, keeps me buoyant even as I feel I'm drowning in misery and I know I must stay afloat. This song has seen me through turmoil, heartbreak, moments of inchoateness, and fatigue from the weight of life. It's who I am. Many times I tear up listening to it.

For every time I feel like I'm slipping again, there's this song. And I sing it to myself, a serenade for me to pull through.

do all japanese gamers really scare this easy?

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 00:29:00 +0000

^ I've just put Engilish subtitles on the famous BioHazard(ResidentEvil)2 clip cos I found it quite hilarious. Hope this gonna help you to understand what is going on the clip and have much more laughter. Originary filmed by a Japanese guy.

- hikariUK, YouTube

I was crying in laughter. Wish I had been there with the poor fellow watching him play. The subtitles with British inflection makes it even better, just exactly how we English speaking gamers would talk.

And notice how at even the mere suggestion of something moving in the otherwise static 2D world the guy immediately flips to the safety of the inventory screen. He must've been completely undone at the end of the game....if he even made it that far. Heh heh...

he, our boat on the Seine

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 00:16:00 +0000

My Father | This Mortal Coil (original lyrics by Judy Collins)

My father always promised me that we would live in France
We'd go boating on the Seine
and I would learn to dance
We lived in Ohio then
He worked in the mines
All his dreams, like boats
we knew we'd sail in time.

My sisters all grew up and went away
to Denver and Cheyenne
Marrying their grown up dreams
the lilacs and the man
I stayed behind, the youngest still
Only danced alone
Hoping, hoping that
My father's dreams would someday take me home

I live in Paris now, my children dance and dream
Hearing the ways of a miner's life
In words they've never seen
I sail my memories of home
Like boats across the Seine
And watch my father's eyes
watching the setting sun
set in my father's eyes again.

My dad wasn't a miner, but he was a mechanical engineer, the only one in his family to earn a university degree. He along with Nanay ('mom' in Tagalog) instilled in us the value of education, they believed it opened doors, created possibilities. So, like boats on the Seine, they brought us here to the U.S. It wasn't easy. There were 9 of us total, I the youngest. We grew up, got married and raised families, bickered, argued, held grudges, celebrated whenever we got reunited, resumed our connectedness, watched each others' backs, saw our own kids, my nieces and nephews, grow and mature.

But through all these decades we remained close knit, no matter how dysfunctionally so, and no matter how far we ventured on geographically for work, school, and home. Through it all my father was the anchor, always there for us, always asking if we needed money or whatever other help was within his power. A resolute anchor, grounding the family, remaining central to us until he died 3 years ago at 88, one month after I answered Nanay's call for me to come to help her take care of him. I think that once I was there Dad was comforted knowing that I was there, too, for Nanay, and it was finally time for him to let go.

Happy Father's Day to all.

"you must normalize..."

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 00:28:00 +0000

LCD Soundsystem is the musical side project of producer James Murphy, co-founder of dance-punk label DFA Records. The music of LCD Soundsystem is a mix of dance music and punk, along with elements of disco and other styles. LCD Soundsystem is particularly popular in Britain, with two albums reaching the top 40 of the UK Albums Chart...

- Wikipedia

This particular track, Get Innocuous, an uncompromising and surprisingly elegant composition of thrashing percussion, hypnotic synth base, and seductively masculine choral voice work, is among the featured tracks in the video game Grand Theft Auto IV. The group earned tw0 2005 Grammy nominations for their talents in the electronica category, then another Grammy nomination in 2007 for best work in the Best Electronic/Dance Album arena, and that's on top of heaps of critical acclaim by some of the best music critics for influential publications like The Guardian and Time Magazine.

Dance in front of your screen at your own risk.

game of life, life of game

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sat, 30 May 2009 22:48:00 +0000

For the past couple of weeks I've been elsewhere, in a state of survival, vengefulness, street level instincts, fuzzy ambitions, honour to myself and to others almost miraculously intact, an attribute of where I came from. Perhaps aside from vengefulness it's most likely what my parents, my dad specifically, experienced in their first few months being in a new country, a new universe, looking, feeling, sounding, tasting, and smelling challengingly and uncomfortably different the moment they emerged from the plane. Or in this case a transatlantic freighter.

I finally finished the main storyline of Grand Theft Auto IV. That is, I saw the present and the future of Niko Bellic, the east European man who had first stepped off that transatlantic freighter at a harbour in Liberty City (a startlingly realistic recreation of New York City). The beginning of Niko's story steps onto land from water, and the ending (a new beginning?), for all its glories and tragedies, lands the man at the foot of the Statue of Happiness (you can guess this monument's real world counterpart).

In between the freighter, the journey from a grey, war stricken home riddled with agonizing memories as well as bullet holes, and the statue that promises possibilities for rebirth and at least some kind of cleansing of the past, Niko undergoes a series of grueling and very violent gauntlets to finally get the truth about his past, thereby cracking open his future, no matter what shape it takes.

^ Liberty City offers the possibilities, for better or worse, for Niko to realize his dreams, however fuzzy they may be, and at whatever cost.

But as always, the truth is itself an agonizing ordeal, and getting to it takes a toll on him and on those around Niko. His past has shaped him to better deal with circumstances (for better or worse), as the present inches him closer to a violent and bloody catharsis.

But as intense and personal as it is, Niko's story could in some ways fit how many of us try to square our past with our future, especially those of us who had come from another world, whether geographically or metaphorically. "We're all looking for that special someone," Niko says. Or that special something. It's always on the horizon for us. And how we strive for it characterizes who we are and how the people and the world around us respond.

I can only wish Niko the very best for the next leg of his journey that begins at the Statue Of Happiness. And I hope that next leg of his journey will be far less painful for him and his loved ones.

heavy rain, heavy gaming

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Fri, 22 May 2009 23:03:00 +0000

"How far are you prepared to go to save someone you love?"

This title, as well as exclusives like Uncharted 2 and Project trICO (working title) are what will eventually compel me to procure a PS3. Well, that and when those desperate morons at Sony finally lower the console's price another $50-100.

Heavy Rain, created by David Cage with his team at Quantum Dream studio, features a highly cinematic, "hyperrealistic" world of four characters, each involved one way or another with the Origami Killer, a serial murderer on the loose. As with the previous QD adventure style game Indigo Prophecy, Heavy Rain emphasizes a deep emotional and psychological immersion into a winding, suspenseful narrative. The player experiences the movie-like story and gameworld through interactive challenges, often visceral split-second decisions that can either truncate the story to a tragic abrupt ending or stretch it further and reveal more facets and details that enrich the narrative and the player's experience.

Heavy Rain is projected for release on PS3 later this year, if not some time next year.

the brick, the slippers, and the 44th

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sun, 17 May 2009 19:52:00 +0000

What a dream I had. It was nighttime and I was settled in some home that, now that I recall awake, was entirely unfamiliar. But when in the dream it felt homey and it was a cozy home and my sister, T, was in the living room with me.

For some reason I went to another room, possibly upstairs, and I saw a tall man in a white shirt and dark trousers holding something. He was very angry. He turned around and I recognized him to be President Obama and what he was holding was a brick, either obtained by him personally or given him by one of his aides, I don't remember. But I learned that the brick was meant to kill him or at least a sign from someone that he was marked for assassination.

Obama, I observed, walked back and forth in a huge furious fit and finally started hitting the door with the brick and I could tell he was out of his element. He was profoundly pissed off that someone would want to kill him when all he was trying to do was help the country. That's when I approached him.

When I tried to address him as Mr. President he didn't respond but kept pacing back forth and ignored me. Then I said, "Hey Barack!" He finally stopped and looked at me. I forgot what I said then, but I remember speaking to him not like he was President, but like he was the human being that he is. And he then calmed down and forgot about the brick. He told me we should take a walk on the South Lawn and talk some more. We were both suddenly wearing pajamas and he announced he was "going to take out the garbage".

I reminded him that he better be careful, someone might try to snipe him or hurt him in some way while we were out there, but he just laughed and shrugged it off. We were going to have a nice talk. A humanistic talk.

So I went back to the living room, Obama already had his slippers on and was carrying a large white Hefty bag full of garbage, standing by waiting for me. I knelt down by the front door where all the slippers were, each of them belonging to one member or other of my family, a flip flop here, suede and sherpa fur lined slides there, and other kinds. One small collection of them I sorted through belonged to my late sister-in-law M, who was married to my oldest brother and died years ago when my niece and nephew by them were in their early teens.

Then my sister, who was lying on the sofa in her pajamas and cuddled up under a blanket, asked me to come over and check out some clothing catalog she had and I dutifully did so for a minute. But I soon had to pull myself away and find my slippers, Obama was still waiting.

I never was able to find my slippers or any pair I could borrow to wear out to the South Lawn, it was a cold night out and the grass, I knew, was very green and wet in the floodlights. I was on the verge of deciding I couldn't go out with Obama for that talk because I didn't have the proper footwear and I kept him waiting for me just outside by the front door.

That's when I finally woke up.

mmmm...zombie ant brains....nom nom nom!

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sat, 16 May 2009 00:10:00 +0000

"Zombie" Ants Controlled, Decapitated by Flies | National Geographic

May 14, 2009--In South America female phorid flies have developed a bizarre reproductive strategy: They hover over fire ants (pictured a file photo), then inject their eggs into the ants with a needle-like appendage.

The egg grows and the resulting larva generally migrates to the ant's head. The larva lives there for weeks--slurping up the brain and turning the ant into a "zombie," in some cases compelling the ant to march 55 yards (50 meters) away from its colony to avoid attack by other fire ants.

The phorid flies have been periodically released by scientists across the U.S. to control the fire ant population that often ravages valuable crops, causing billions of dollars in agricultural losses each year, and also threaten other wildlife like lizards and birds. Because this breed of African flies - pseudacteon obtusus - selected by the scientists, only prefer the tasty fire ant brains (these ants were themselves imported and not indigenous to the U.S.), other native U.S. ant species are practically untouched. Or this case, uneaten.

I'm just waiting for the video game version of this, natch. I want to play as an ant named Zoey or something.

smooth operator: sade

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 17:01:00 +0000

I first discovered Sade in the early 80s. Back then there were many excellent bands, the competition for my ears was fierce in the arenas of new wave, punk, industrial dance, alternative, and American and British pop.

But Sade, in her own way, trumped them all on her own terms. Why? Because she was the exact opposite of all the exuberant, in-your-face dramatics of pop music. She had one of the rarest of qualities: cool.

This statuesque former model, part Nigerian and part English, possessed a smooth unwavering voice, a decidedly distant yet not icy personal style, and a unique talent to circumnavigate the limelight of paparazzi and other media intrusion that constantly subject us to the pummeling of celebrity gossip and drama of the entertainment world. When all we heard and saw (whether we want it or not) were the tabloid headlines of Whitney Houston and Madonna, nowhere to be seen was Sade. She simply made herself out to be too "boring" to sell millions of magazine copies for the publishers. Which in the end rendered her that much more intriguingly mysterious.

While the pop stars of the 80s often times dressed in the most outlandish ways to sustain the attention of whoreish media and fans, Sade had always been at the far end of the spectrum. She was almost always photographed in stark black, clean tailored lines, turtleneck sweaters, backless cocktail dresses that caressed her lean model's frame, long black silk gloves, dark trousers, hair slicked back to a long pony tail. Such style is eternal and can never be tethered to an era or decade, least of all the ostentatious and overripe 80s.

Sade's music, naturally, aurally extends and embodies this cool, confident style. Her forte was jazz, the iconic kind so easily recognized in its native atmosphere of smoky nightclub patronized by elegant elite clientele serviced by bartenders with combed back hair, starched white shirts, and waistcoasts. Subsequently she inflected her rhythms with African beats or subtle hip hop influences, but ultimately the sounds never shout at you and instead invite you to lounge and enjoy a nicely mixed martini, as smooth and intoxicating as Sade herself, her creamy voice crooning over the cradling bass and purring saxophone.

Cool incarnate is Sade. No one could, can, or can ever, touch her, even as she touches us.

hugging the elephant god

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 09:03:00 +0000

^ Got 9 minutes? This animated short shows my favourite Hindu deity in quirkily charming action.

Hi L, hope you're doing well.

"I'm afraid I must now end my docentship at the Pacific Asia Museum. A few things have changed at my end that I no longer have the time to be able to do it.

I now work full-time, but must also need more time to look after my elderly mom. She had a mild cardiac arrest in the past couple of months, was in the Emergency Room twice, and also hospitalized twice (second time for angioplasty procedure) and will soon be outfitted with a pacemaker. She will also undergo cataract surgery to fix her eyesight. On top of all that we plan to move to the San Francisco area to be closer to my oldest sister who is a nurse practitioner and can be available all the time to check on her. So needless to say, lots of stuff going on there. :-)

I'm not sure how the process works for ending my position there so please let me know what to do. I'm really, really sad I can't do it anymore, I love working with the kids and I love being surrounded by the art and being in the museum.

I'd be happy to come to the office for any paperwork officiating this."

Some day soon I'll be able to enlighten schoolkids again on art and culture. That makes me happy for imminent possibilities.

Until then my absolute priority is The Mom. She has already had two attacks that sent her to the emergency room, and two hospital stays, the second of which had her undergo angioplasty procedure to clear a major artery in her heart. She will soon be outfitted with a pacemaker. She has been getting Avastin treatment for her eyes and must have cataract surgery in the next month or two.

We should be moving up to the San Francisco area before summer's end. I'm very happy about that for both our sakes. We'll be close to my oldest sister who is a nurse and can check up on The Mom almost every day. In the city there should be some excellent health centers for me and others with my condition and because I'll remain in the state I can still be receive certain health care benefits. Aside from that I will be that much closer to the city I want to live the rest of my life in, if not accessibly close to. I can and will eventually volunteer again, and I would love to continue that in a museum in San Francisco.

I'm now working full-time again. However, it complicates my situation with health care. I must sign up for work covered insurance but many insurers discriminate against us who have pre-existing conditions. I'm hoping the bill will be signed by President Obama that will require insurers to cover ALL people, including me. We'll see.

This certainly looks to be the year of many events, major shifts and changes. Obstacles are placed, obstacles removed. I'm not religious, but my favourite deity this year (and in general) is Ganesha. If he were real I would throw my arms around him and practically hang off of him in great gratitude.

i want candy (in zero gravity)

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 04:11:00 +0000

Candy Corn In Space: More Than A Snack | NPR

Astronauts are allowed to bring special “crew preference” items when they go up in space. NASA astronaut Don Pettit chose candy corn for his five and a half month stint aboard the International Space Station. But these candy corn were more than a snack, Pettit used them for experimentation. Footage courtesy of Don Pettit. Music courtesy of Bardo Music/South Hill Project. Produced by Flora Lichtman . - Science Friday, NPR

Related: Don Pettit's Space Inventions

Never has a personal experiment in outer space looked - and tasted - so sweet.

micro-size me in Manhattan!

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 19:20:00 +0000

Micro-Hotels Offer NYC Visitors Cheap, Chic Digs | NPR

The micro-hotel looks like a luxurious boutique hotel. It has a cafe with designer decor, a terrace and a concierge, and it is right in the center of midtown.
Even with the downturn, he says, occupancy ranges between 85 and 90 percent.
The rooms are tiny, with bunk beds, an iPod docking station, a light and a small TV above each bed. If you want to read or watch TV when your friend is sleeping, you can do that. The bathroom is down the hall.

...the atmosphere at The Jane, housed in a building more than a century old, is straight out of Jules Verne: old-fashioned bellhops, huge keys, a backward clock, moose heads on the wall — and long-term tenants, 60 of them, who pay less than $700 a month.
"I call it the hotel at the end of the world," says Samuel Gaedke, who has lived at The Jane for four years. "If you want to disappear off the face of the Earth for a little while, it is a good place to come to."
The Jane's single hotel rooms are $75 a night.

< A single room at The Jane harks back to early 20th century digs that bawdy sailors rented for 25 cents a night.

Looks like the age of supersizing is over. Bye bye, Hummer! Don't let the door hit your fossil fuel sucking fat arse on your way out!

With all the techno advancements in the world shrunken down to fit inside the Blackberry, G1 or iPhone in your belt holster as you listen to your music via your tiny new iPod Nano that's practically indiscernible from your tie clip or cuff link while you take videos with your pocket-sized Flip camera to upload to YouTube from your very small HP netbook with its 10 inch screen, the next inevitable step is to check into a micro-hotel after disembarking from your electric Mini Cooper.

For some strange, mysterious reason I suddenly have this annoyingly seductive urge to re-visit New York City (hadn't been there since late 2000, pre-9/11). I seriously miss The Met, MoMA, The Whitney, and just walking, Walking, WALKING across Manhattan, sucking in the air, the smells, the sights, sounds, and bustling. And New Yorkers look so chic and so real compared to Angelenos.

The Jane...$75 a night, eh? Hmmmm.....*drools*

stars and stripes and douchebaggery

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 17:40:00 +0000

^ One of the critical tenets of President Obama's fix for our nation is less
emphasis on reckless consumerism and more focus on education.

No More Hummer Nation | Maureen Dowd, New York Times Opinion

I heard a French scientist on a radio show once explain that Americans would always insist on supersizing things because our “reptilian brain” likes things big. We’re still big, as Norma Desmond said. It’s everything around us that’s collapsing and shrinking.
The Wall Street Journal had an article last week reporting that, now that gas prices have gone back down, almost half a million fuel-frugal small cars are piling up unsold at dealers around the country.
“I don’t think Americans really like small cars,” Beau Boeckmann, a Ford dealer in California, told The Journal. “They drive them when they think they have to, when gas prices are high. But we’re big people, and we like big cars.”
That’s the big nettle we’re grasping. How big do we need to be to still feel American? How big can our national debt grow? How big can our cars be? And how big is our clout abroad these days? Will Michelle’s style in Europe make as big a splash as Carla Bruni-Sarkozy’s?
The cowboy push by W. and Dick Cheney to be a hyperpower and an empire left America a weakened and tapped-out power, straining to defend its runaway capitalism even as it uneasily adapts to its desperation socialism.
How do we come to terms with the gluttony that exploded our economy and still retain our reptilian American desire for living large? How do we make the pursuit of the American dream a satisfying quest rather than a selfish one?

What Maureen Dowd hints at here is the serious need to re-define what it means to be American. But first thing's first - where the hell did we get the idea that to be American means to own big things? I mean, physically big, literally big, expensively big? Unnecessarily big?

And I also have to ask, how much emphasis do we put on individualism before it spills over into selfish bragging rights and materialistic whoring devoid of larger social considerations and responsibilities? Sure, we as Americans can easily max out our credit cards on the latest gadgetry, fashion, and huge cars, and yet we can't even take care of our unemployed homeless fellow citizens, much less pay our mortgages on time. We even have the gall to brag about keeping our priorities.

I used to think that to be American is to be the best you can be - hardworking, educated, self made, socially responsible, generous, strong, and fierce. But evidently that wasn't enough. Or worse, we hide our shortcomings in those departments by relying on such things as Hummers, large screen HDTVs, and houses whose mortgages far exceed our annual salaries.

It's a classic situation: dazzle them - and ourselves - with the goods as a way to distract from our decided lack of accomplishments in the areas that truly matter. After all, isn't it easier to impress someone with an expensive SUV than having to go to graduate school and earning a masters or a PhD? Wouldn't it be more convenient to wow our friends with the latest iPod or Louis Vuitton bag instead of making them inspired and proud of us for having volunteered at a homeless shelter for the past year?

The pendulum has swung the other way, and swung hard. And yet many of us are still too stupid to come around - being smart, responsible, and thrifty is NOT the latest fashion trend. Instead it is now a necessary way of life, one that was birthed by our recklessness and lack of values in the right places.

Do you know why many items at 7-Eleven cost so much? Convenience. You pay extra for the convenience of being able to do a jaunt to that store at 3 in the morning for a carton of milk, a handful of Slim Jim's, or a Slurpee to satisfy a desire. And that is how we have been behaving. Patience has never been a part of American values, at least in the past century. And because of that we've created the pathetic mess we're now in. Yeah, we're that stupid.

Given our choice to create the current dismal economic situation, we have also now created an opportunity, one that offers possibilities to choose wisely this time - and for all time. A new choice has now emerged, though which one we pick depends on whether we have finally learned our lesson:

Do we choose to be big, or do we choose to be better?

Wii did it

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 07:46:00 +0000

So I finally got a Nintendo Wii. It's primarily to be used for daily workouts; my copy of Wii Fit with its balance board arrives sometime this week. With this 'game' I plan on spending time doing lite yoga and running exercises and training to be at minimum a little better physically. I want to focus on cardiovascular fitness as I have hypertension. More physical workouts like running will help, and the yoga will improve circulation and help bring a bit of balance and calmness.

Only then, I thought, will I consider joining a gym, or if that proves too costly, take up running and signing up for yoga classes.

The Wii came with Wii Sports, a collection of games - boxing, tennis, bowling, baseball, and golf - that at first glance seem to be more about showing off the innovative motion sensitive interface technology. But believe me, you do end up working up a sweat when physically swinging a virtual racket or trying to knock your opponent out with a good left hook.

When it first came out I wasn't so actively interested in the Wii. Probably had to do in part with my not being able to afford it, I was more inclined to spend money on games for my Xb0x 360. But now it's necessary. I love the idea of combining gaming and fitness, the former of which I already do a lot of, and the latter I seriously need to do more of.

^Okami, a uniquely beautiful game inspired by Japanese mythology, where your most powerful weapon is your paintbrush. Originally released on the Playstation 2, this game finally reaches the apex of its concept on the Wii. | YouTube gameplay clip

Still, aside from Wii Fit this console opens up the world of gaming for me that much more. Now it's physical. And there are now enough games for it I'm interested in. Okami also arrives in the mail this week and I never thought I'd finally get to experience such an original and beautiful game.

Now more than before, the possibilities are not only virtual, but also very real.

be stupid and multiply

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 03:41:00 +0000

In Quiverfull Movement, Birth Control Is Shunned | NPR (audio news)

"The womb is such a powerful weapon; it's a weapon against the enemy," Campbell [a leader of the Quiverfull movement and author of Be Fruitful and Multiply] says.

Campbell has 35 grandchildren. She and her husband stopped at six kids, and it is her great regret.

"I think, help! Imagine if we had had more of these children!" Campbell says, adding, "My greatest impact is through my children. The more children I have, the more ability I have to impact the world for God."

A Christian God, that is. Campbell says if believers don't starting reproducing in large numbers, biblical Christianity will lose its voice.

"We look across the Islamic world and we see that they are outnumbering us in their family size, and they are in many places and many countries taking over those nations, without a jihad, just by multiplication," Campbell says.

Still, Quiverfull is a small group, probably 10,000 fast-growing families, mainly in the Midwest and South. But they have large ambitions, says Kathryn Joyce, who has written about the movement in her book Quiverfull: Inside The Christian Patriarchy Movement.

"They speak about, 'If everyone starts having eight children or 12 children, imagine in three generations what we'll be able to do,' " Joyce says. " 'We'll be able to take over both halls of Congress, we'll be able to reclaim sinful cities like San Francisco for the faithful, and we'll be able to wage very effective massive boycotts against companies that are going against God's will.' "

I am the youngest of 9 kids in my family. We were raised Catholic. All of us kids are non-devout, and only my oldest sister and I are atheist. My parents made a modest living and were only able to own one house for all of us - a 1920s brick bungalow on the west side of Chicago - after which was sold in the mid 80s, they never owned any property again and spent the remaining years of their lives either living with one of us or renting an apartment. They never relied on welfare programs, food stamps, or any sort of handout from state or federal sources.

My parents taught us kids the value of staying close and helping each other out, so we developed a sense of independence as well as interdependence. Despite our occasional petty fights, grudges, and disagreements we've stayed very close knit all these years, passing such good influences on to our own kids (I remain the only single, childless one). We have helped each other out in times of stress, gave each other room and board when unable to find it, assisted each other in getting jobs, took turns in taking care of our aging parents.

And I can absolutely, definitely, proudly say that my parents did not have a lot of children because they thought of the womb as a weapon or that they wanted to outbreed extremist Muslims or because they wanted to brainwash others into Christianity. My mother is a devout Catholic now more than ever (she prays for all of us each night before going to sleep) and I adore her for being so loving, but she never uses God as an excuse for any kind of selfishness.

You know why my parents didn't have all us kids for those reasons those Quiverfull folks did (and I use the word 'folks' with disdainful connotation here)? It's because my parents were too busy being profoundly beautiful, selfless, unconditionally loving human beings and parents.

My dad died 4 years ago, and now my mom has begun the slow, gradual descent towards death herself. I moved in with her originally to take care of Dad, but now that he's gone I'm looking after her (with the help of my siblings). And it wasn't because of religion or faith. It's because I love her very deeply and it's payback time for all those years she loved me.

This...."community".....of parents having truckloads of kids to merely promulgate and propagate their religion for its own sake, and even worse, as a perceived method of combating a rival religion, is the most disgusting, revolting, moronic, and shamefully SELFISH act anyone can choose to do in terms of family. If there really is a powerful, all loving God, is this what He would condone? His followers breeding for the purpose of competing with another religion and pimping Him?

separate is not equal

noreply@blogger.com (a space alien) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 23:38:00 +0000

^ Separate is not equal | On gay marriage, 'whether you like it or not' | Full program (1 hr. 7 min.)

"Gavin Christopher Newsom is the current mayor of San Francisco. A Democrat, Newsom was elected mayor in 2003, succeeding Willie Brown and becoming San Francisco's youngest mayor in 100 years.

Newsom drew voter attention with his Care Not Cash program, designed to move homeless people into city assisted care.

...Newsom's unexpected move brought national attention to the issues of gay marriage and gay rights, solidifying political support for Newsom in San Francisco and in the gay community, and causing several other states to change their laws concerning marriage and gay rights. Newsom is viewed in many political circles as a potential candidate for governor in the 2010 gubernatorial election."

- FORA.tv

Gavin Newsom gives a damn. And as Mayor of San Francisco he's willing to put civil rights forward while taking a step back for himself because he gives a damn, painting his city in more beautiful shades of humanity.