Well first, my television's screen went fuzzy. Actually, it was more like snowy. Not a full blizzard, but the kind of snowstorm you wouldn't want to be driving in. So it seems I'll have to be acquiring a new tv. Nuts. Then, I had a run in with the Nurse Ratchett (not sure about the spelling, but the name refers to the character of the head nurse in the movie adaptation of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest) of my general practitioner's (family doctor) office staff.
I think my doctor is a damn fine one, and most of his staff is excellent, also. With the exception of one. He has a nurse practitioner on staff, who is a serious "B". I'll let you figure out what the B stands for, but it ain't Buddy. Anyway, I talked to someone on his staff last week to call in a prescription I needed to renew for one of my immune system disorder's inconvenient (and a bit uncomfortable) symptoms, which I'm sure she did. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the pharmacy did not show receiving the request as of this morning. I called my Doctor's office, and talked to one of his staff, who then had me hold until the Iron Maiden (which is actually a device of torture used in Medieval times) came on the line, and said they showed the call to the pharmacy had been placed Friday. I said, fine, but the pharmacy didn't have the request. To which, she said, the call was placed, and was documented. She had it right in front of her. I said, fine, but the pharmacy didn't have the request. Then, she said, it had been done, as if I was questioning her authority in the matter. Maybe, when she got a chance she would talk to them later. Not having just fallen off the back of a turnip truck (an expression that means, I didn't just arrive in the big city fresh off the farm), I immediately called the pharmacy, and told them what the wonderful nurse lady had said. The woman at the pharmacy (who truly is wonderful), told me she would call the doctor's office. And lo and behold, I was able to get my medication. Amazing. How simple things can be.
Albert, meanwhile,who was trying to remain asleep under my bed, had escalated from making snuffling noises, to loud huffing, and finally to growling. Albert is a bear, who just so happens to enjoy sleeping under my bed, particularly on hot and humid days like today, since I have an air conditioner. Eddie, my other roommate, a cockatiel, was yelling up a storm as he usually does when I talk for any extended period on the phone. He feels it's his duty to join in. He really does enjoy himself doing this.
Luckily for me, I was late for a birthday party, and had to bolt (or to use a really big word: I had to asquatulate, which means to leave in a hurry). Which made Albert very happy, and Eddie very upset.
Anyroad, it was a simply magnificent celebration, at a local Chinese restaurant, that serves truly outstanding dim sum. Between the excellent food and my wonderful friends, all my tiny inconveniences, were finally left behind.
And may all your troubles, big or small, be as easily disposed of.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The World IS a Strange Place, but The Weird is Where I Come From
I left the town I grew up in a long time ago. The name isn't important. You wouldn't be able to find it, anyway. No matter how you tried to get there. Not unless you fell into it by pure dumb luck. Which very likely would be bad luck.
Let's call my hometown, Little Valley. It fits. It is in a little valley, sitting right between several hills, with a river running through it. Very picturesque as I remember it. The population has always been around 3,000, without much fluctuation as far back as I can recall. And everyone appears to be quite normal to those passing through, of which there are not very many.
It's difficult to explain, but those who travel the roads that would, and should, carry them into Little Valley, suddenly find themselves on the other side of the small town that they didn't see. It might strike them as a little strange that they seem to be a little further along than they thought, kind of like there's a tiny blank spot in their perception. But the brief memory of something being out of place, quickly slips away, into the depths of their subconscious without even much of a ripple. You see, if you're not from Little Valley, it's simply not there for you to find. Oh, a few people stumble upon the town every once in awhile. But for them, that's not necessarily a good thing.
When I was growing up, there were stories about a very old tree that was very difficult to find, even if you'd been there before. And at the base of this tree was a hole. Well, more like a cave that was underground. And as the story went, this cave let to a kind of door, or portal, between worlds. Or, at least to someplace else. Depending on who was telling the story, it might be a wonderous and magical place, or, it might be a dark and scary place. I always thought it was just a story, until I was 12 years old. That's when I came across that tree myself. It was while I was hiking through the woods one day with a couple of my friends. That's also when I lost one of those friends. And never saw her again.
Enough. This is not a short tale, and I am wrestling with some strong emotions, and memories I haven't thought about in a long while. So, enough for now. You might find this a hard tale to believe. But I assure you, it's true. At least as true as I can remember it. And as difficult as you might find it to believe what I tell you, I guarantee, it is a much harder tale to tell.
Let's call my hometown, Little Valley. It fits. It is in a little valley, sitting right between several hills, with a river running through it. Very picturesque as I remember it. The population has always been around 3,000, without much fluctuation as far back as I can recall. And everyone appears to be quite normal to those passing through, of which there are not very many.
It's difficult to explain, but those who travel the roads that would, and should, carry them into Little Valley, suddenly find themselves on the other side of the small town that they didn't see. It might strike them as a little strange that they seem to be a little further along than they thought, kind of like there's a tiny blank spot in their perception. But the brief memory of something being out of place, quickly slips away, into the depths of their subconscious without even much of a ripple. You see, if you're not from Little Valley, it's simply not there for you to find. Oh, a few people stumble upon the town every once in awhile. But for them, that's not necessarily a good thing.
When I was growing up, there were stories about a very old tree that was very difficult to find, even if you'd been there before. And at the base of this tree was a hole. Well, more like a cave that was underground. And as the story went, this cave let to a kind of door, or portal, between worlds. Or, at least to someplace else. Depending on who was telling the story, it might be a wonderous and magical place, or, it might be a dark and scary place. I always thought it was just a story, until I was 12 years old. That's when I came across that tree myself. It was while I was hiking through the woods one day with a couple of my friends. That's also when I lost one of those friends. And never saw her again.
Enough. This is not a short tale, and I am wrestling with some strong emotions, and memories I haven't thought about in a long while. So, enough for now. You might find this a hard tale to believe. But I assure you, it's true. At least as true as I can remember it. And as difficult as you might find it to believe what I tell you, I guarantee, it is a much harder tale to tell.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Dreaming History
One of the characters I met at Readercon a week ago, happens to be a well known, and award winning writer, Howard Waldrop. I happen to be reading a book currently, Custer's Last Jump, that collects all his stories that he wrote in collaboration with other writers, such as Leigh Kennedy, Steve Utley, and George R.R. Martin.
In the story he wrote with Leigh Kennedy, they take the story of the Trojan War, and turn it into something very real, and personal. The story, which is about the Greeks Trojan Horse trick, focuses on only a handful of characters, both in the past, and in the much closer present. The point is, they did a wonderful job of breathing life into an ancient story, and made me think about this moment in time, and appreciate it, in a way I not ever done so before. What seemed to be such a simple story to tell (simple in appearance only, I would wager), brought history to life for me.
Most of the history teachers I had in school were really quite boring, and would do their best to kill our (my and my fellow students') imaginations. I do remember one history teacher whose class I enjoyed because of the stories he told. And they were fantastic stories.
History should not be considered a collection of past events that no longer have any importance, and are viewed as being akin to the Dead Sea. Dead, that is.
We view time as linear. I don't believe it is. I once heard a theory (I think it was also put forth in a movie) that all the moments in time exist at once. If you could just turn the corner fast enough, you might meet Cleopatra, Benjamin Franklin, or Homer before he wrote about Odysseus.
Anyroad. History is all around us, all the time. And every day we are witnessing history as it happens. Particularly in this age of the computer, ipad, and the smart phone. It's become quite a connected world. But we are not just connected to the present. We are always connected to the past as well. And we should remember that. After all, you can't know where you're going, if you don't know where you came from...
In the story he wrote with Leigh Kennedy, they take the story of the Trojan War, and turn it into something very real, and personal. The story, which is about the Greeks Trojan Horse trick, focuses on only a handful of characters, both in the past, and in the much closer present. The point is, they did a wonderful job of breathing life into an ancient story, and made me think about this moment in time, and appreciate it, in a way I not ever done so before. What seemed to be such a simple story to tell (simple in appearance only, I would wager), brought history to life for me.
Most of the history teachers I had in school were really quite boring, and would do their best to kill our (my and my fellow students') imaginations. I do remember one history teacher whose class I enjoyed because of the stories he told. And they were fantastic stories.
History should not be considered a collection of past events that no longer have any importance, and are viewed as being akin to the Dead Sea. Dead, that is.
We view time as linear. I don't believe it is. I once heard a theory (I think it was also put forth in a movie) that all the moments in time exist at once. If you could just turn the corner fast enough, you might meet Cleopatra, Benjamin Franklin, or Homer before he wrote about Odysseus.
Anyroad. History is all around us, all the time. And every day we are witnessing history as it happens. Particularly in this age of the computer, ipad, and the smart phone. It's become quite a connected world. But we are not just connected to the present. We are always connected to the past as well. And we should remember that. After all, you can't know where you're going, if you don't know where you came from...
Friday, July 20, 2012
Guns & Violence go together like Ham & Cheese
Yes it's true that people kill people (gun owners justification: guns don't kill people, people do), but guns make it a heck of a lot easier to accomplish.
Guns have been a part of the American culture from the very beginning. They played a large part in the founding of the country, i. e. during the Revolutionary War, and have been an intricate part of American life ever since.
And I believe they were a necessary tool in the birth of this nation, and they are still necessary today, but in a much more limited sense.
Guns are too easy to get, and too many people have access to them. As long as that continues to be true, there will always be bloody massacres like what took place this early morning in Aurora, Colorado. The shooter was on no one's radar. From what I heard on the news, his only criminal violation before today was a traffic ticket. And yet, he walked into a movie theater and shot and killed at least 12 people, and wounded at least 38 others, including women and children.
These type of mass shootings have actually become a part of our culture, it would seem. And that, my friends, is a sorrowful and horrifying fact.
I don't believe there are more than a small percentage of people who have the maturity to handle firearms with the necessary responsibility, and level headedness. I'm not sure I can believe there's enough intelligence or maturity in the entire human race, for people to be allowed to have weapons of any kind. We really haven't evolved much beyond our kin, the monkeys.
So mourn the deaths and injuries in Aurora. And pray we can learn how to stop it from happening again.
Guns have been a part of the American culture from the very beginning. They played a large part in the founding of the country, i. e. during the Revolutionary War, and have been an intricate part of American life ever since.
And I believe they were a necessary tool in the birth of this nation, and they are still necessary today, but in a much more limited sense.
Guns are too easy to get, and too many people have access to them. As long as that continues to be true, there will always be bloody massacres like what took place this early morning in Aurora, Colorado. The shooter was on no one's radar. From what I heard on the news, his only criminal violation before today was a traffic ticket. And yet, he walked into a movie theater and shot and killed at least 12 people, and wounded at least 38 others, including women and children.
These type of mass shootings have actually become a part of our culture, it would seem. And that, my friends, is a sorrowful and horrifying fact.
I don't believe there are more than a small percentage of people who have the maturity to handle firearms with the necessary responsibility, and level headedness. I'm not sure I can believe there's enough intelligence or maturity in the entire human race, for people to be allowed to have weapons of any kind. We really haven't evolved much beyond our kin, the monkeys.
So mourn the deaths and injuries in Aurora. And pray we can learn how to stop it from happening again.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
A Funny Thing Happened On My Way To Shangrila
Some of us are always trying to look behind the curtain (If you remember- for those of you who have seen the movie- in the Wizard of Oz, when the dog Toto reveals the man behind the curtain to be the actual Wizard). We seem to always be attempting to pierce the veil of the world around us. We just don't always go about it in the right way.
I believe the real trick to seeing the world around us, is not by vision, but by perception. Most of us, myself included, are always viewing only that part of the world that is right in front of us. Tunnel-vision, if you will. When in actuality, to pierce the "veil of reality", we need to step back, and widen what is being seen to include everything that is around us. The world truly is a marvelous place, and the simplest of things can be astounding to behold when observed in the right "light". Of course, it's not always easy to trick our perception into seeing the true nature of the world around us. It's why marijuana was -probably still is- such a popular drug, and also psychologically addictive. In my younger years, I would definitely say I was an addict. But as with anything that is abused, it creates it own set of problems, which, in the end, overshadow any benefit. At least in my case. So, I moved on.
Shangrila, defined in the dictionary as a remote idyllic hideaway, is not really any one particular location, as in the stories, but resides directly behind your eyes, and can be anywhere you happen to be. Most of us are looking for Shangrila in one way or another. Call it whatever you like, happiness, peace, home, the place we belong in the world, or whatever you prefer. But like the Chinaman, who no matter where he goes, is always home, because he carries China in his heart, that is also where Shangrila is as well. So, you see, we really don't have to go looking for it. It's right here inside. We just have to figure out how to open the door.
Sound familiar? It's been said before. And probably much more eloquently at that.
I believe the real trick to seeing the world around us, is not by vision, but by perception. Most of us, myself included, are always viewing only that part of the world that is right in front of us. Tunnel-vision, if you will. When in actuality, to pierce the "veil of reality", we need to step back, and widen what is being seen to include everything that is around us. The world truly is a marvelous place, and the simplest of things can be astounding to behold when observed in the right "light". Of course, it's not always easy to trick our perception into seeing the true nature of the world around us. It's why marijuana was -probably still is- such a popular drug, and also psychologically addictive. In my younger years, I would definitely say I was an addict. But as with anything that is abused, it creates it own set of problems, which, in the end, overshadow any benefit. At least in my case. So, I moved on.
Shangrila, defined in the dictionary as a remote idyllic hideaway, is not really any one particular location, as in the stories, but resides directly behind your eyes, and can be anywhere you happen to be. Most of us are looking for Shangrila in one way or another. Call it whatever you like, happiness, peace, home, the place we belong in the world, or whatever you prefer. But like the Chinaman, who no matter where he goes, is always home, because he carries China in his heart, that is also where Shangrila is as well. So, you see, we really don't have to go looking for it. It's right here inside. We just have to figure out how to open the door.
Sound familiar? It's been said before. And probably much more eloquently at that.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Reality Might Be Far Stranger Than You Think
Being around a lot of writers of speculative fiction (a good categorization actually: usually includes everything from science fiction, fantasy, horror, magic realism, slipstream, etc., etc.), and all the, at least partially, crazy fans of said (meaning the previously mentioned) writers, even if only for a day (as in my case at Readercon this past Friday) is a truly strange and wonderful experience. As exhausting as the overall day was, I loved every minute of it.
I can never get enough time to read. I have been reading speculative fiction since I was somewhere around 10 years old. Some of the authors I saw on Friday I had met at other Readercons in the past, such as Michael Swanwick, Elizabeth Hand, Paul di Filippo, Peter Straub, Jeff VanderMeer, and John Crowley, to mention a few. And I got to meet some authors for the first time, like Elizabeth Bear, Gemma Files, Paul Tremblay, Howard Waldrop, James Patrick Kelly, and Andy Duncan. I was able to sit in on readings by Matthew Kressel (a newer writer), Jeff VanderMeer, Paul Tremblay, and James Patrick Kelly. Matthew read from a story taking place in the future, as the last humans are being evacuated from Earth. It was a very touching story, where the central characters are an old man trying to preserve his family's home and land, and a young girl from the poor side of the tracks, so to speak.
Jeff read from a new novel, which although finished, has not been published, yet, with the title of Annihilation. Another book I'm just gonna' have to read. Paul Tremblay read from his new book, Swallowing A Donkey's Eye. Yep, that's the title. Now, I haven't read much of Tremblay, but after sitting through the reading, I can honestly say I will be reading more. Swallowing A Donkey's Eye won't be officially released until next month, but the publisher, Chizine, made several copies available, and of course, I managed to pick one up.
My favorite reading of the day (and that's saying a lot, 'cause I truly enjoyed them all), however, was by James Patrick Kelly, who read from a novella (much longer than your average short story, but not as long as a novel), The Last Judgement, which was published in Asimov's (a science fiction magazine). It took place in a world where all the men had disappeared years ago, so there were only women. The section of the novella he read from, was about the meeting between a young private detective (she was born after the disappearance of the men), and an old woman (who not only was around before the disappearance, but had been married and had a child) who wants to hire her to recover a stolen painting. The story itself is filled with humor, but the way the author read it was hysterical. It was a great reading. And now, dammit, I'm going to have to try to track down that issue of Asimov's so I can read the whole story.
You know, sometimes we have tunnel vision, and are only able to see our own little world right there in front of us. Yet, there's a much bigger world unfolding all around us, all the time. And the possibilities of where we'll be tomorrow are endless. In the meantime, however, I must take care of some mundane tasks in my own small reality, so I can spend time later considering that larger world around me. Sigh.
Happy trails to y'all.
I can never get enough time to read. I have been reading speculative fiction since I was somewhere around 10 years old. Some of the authors I saw on Friday I had met at other Readercons in the past, such as Michael Swanwick, Elizabeth Hand, Paul di Filippo, Peter Straub, Jeff VanderMeer, and John Crowley, to mention a few. And I got to meet some authors for the first time, like Elizabeth Bear, Gemma Files, Paul Tremblay, Howard Waldrop, James Patrick Kelly, and Andy Duncan. I was able to sit in on readings by Matthew Kressel (a newer writer), Jeff VanderMeer, Paul Tremblay, and James Patrick Kelly. Matthew read from a story taking place in the future, as the last humans are being evacuated from Earth. It was a very touching story, where the central characters are an old man trying to preserve his family's home and land, and a young girl from the poor side of the tracks, so to speak.
Jeff read from a new novel, which although finished, has not been published, yet, with the title of Annihilation. Another book I'm just gonna' have to read. Paul Tremblay read from his new book, Swallowing A Donkey's Eye. Yep, that's the title. Now, I haven't read much of Tremblay, but after sitting through the reading, I can honestly say I will be reading more. Swallowing A Donkey's Eye won't be officially released until next month, but the publisher, Chizine, made several copies available, and of course, I managed to pick one up.
My favorite reading of the day (and that's saying a lot, 'cause I truly enjoyed them all), however, was by James Patrick Kelly, who read from a novella (much longer than your average short story, but not as long as a novel), The Last Judgement, which was published in Asimov's (a science fiction magazine). It took place in a world where all the men had disappeared years ago, so there were only women. The section of the novella he read from, was about the meeting between a young private detective (she was born after the disappearance of the men), and an old woman (who not only was around before the disappearance, but had been married and had a child) who wants to hire her to recover a stolen painting. The story itself is filled with humor, but the way the author read it was hysterical. It was a great reading. And now, dammit, I'm going to have to try to track down that issue of Asimov's so I can read the whole story.
You know, sometimes we have tunnel vision, and are only able to see our own little world right there in front of us. Yet, there's a much bigger world unfolding all around us, all the time. And the possibilities of where we'll be tomorrow are endless. In the meantime, however, I must take care of some mundane tasks in my own small reality, so I can spend time later considering that larger world around me. Sigh.
Happy trails to y'all.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Did Anybody Get the Number of That Truck?
And the recovery continues. Age is not a pretty picture. Of course, having CFIDS (chronic, fatigue, immune dysfunction syndrome-there's a mouthful for ya') doesn't particularly help either. Oops. There I go complaining again. A bad habit that is quite common among us humans.
Anyway, I did manage to drag myself out of bed and get in a quick jog before showering. After which, I then uncovered Eddie's cage to allow the light of day into my little feathered brother's life. Hey, we might not be the same species, but we share this planet, as well as the marvelous gift of life. And no matter your circumstances, I believe life to be a precious thing. Even Albert, my other roommate (who happens to be a large black bear), believes in the sanctity of life. Although he does wish that the majority of humans would find another planet to live on. He's currently sleeping in his favorite spot, under my bed. Again, I have no idea how he gets under there. It really is amazing.
So, next time, maybe I'll talk a bit about what I experienced at Readercon, but I'm gonna' let those events gel in my head some more.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (a quite cliche line once used in a lot of old movies, and serial tv shows), I have a plan. My day will go a little like this, I hope. First, some Irish style oatmeal (hey, that's what it says on the box), and of course, the Sunday paper. Then, if I can light a fire under my butt, I will do a bit of cleaning. Following that, if I can still stand up, I will start unpacking a whole lot of books, and begin finding them homes back on my bookshelves, or anywhere else I can set them, as long as I won't trip over them.
And finally, maybe I'll have a little time to indulge in the wonderful pastime of reading. With a bit of luck.
Anyroad, whatever your situation in life may be, I do hope you can, in some way or other, appreciate this extraordinary thing we call life.
Anyway, I did manage to drag myself out of bed and get in a quick jog before showering. After which, I then uncovered Eddie's cage to allow the light of day into my little feathered brother's life. Hey, we might not be the same species, but we share this planet, as well as the marvelous gift of life. And no matter your circumstances, I believe life to be a precious thing. Even Albert, my other roommate (who happens to be a large black bear), believes in the sanctity of life. Although he does wish that the majority of humans would find another planet to live on. He's currently sleeping in his favorite spot, under my bed. Again, I have no idea how he gets under there. It really is amazing.
So, next time, maybe I'll talk a bit about what I experienced at Readercon, but I'm gonna' let those events gel in my head some more.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch (a quite cliche line once used in a lot of old movies, and serial tv shows), I have a plan. My day will go a little like this, I hope. First, some Irish style oatmeal (hey, that's what it says on the box), and of course, the Sunday paper. Then, if I can light a fire under my butt, I will do a bit of cleaning. Following that, if I can still stand up, I will start unpacking a whole lot of books, and begin finding them homes back on my bookshelves, or anywhere else I can set them, as long as I won't trip over them.
And finally, maybe I'll have a little time to indulge in the wonderful pastime of reading. With a bit of luck.
Anyroad, whatever your situation in life may be, I do hope you can, in some way or other, appreciate this extraordinary thing we call life.
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