Some of history's greatest atrocities were committed by normally decent people filled with the best intentions that simply didn't know when to quit.  Some of those people were at Pam's wedding Saturday night.

Though I do admit it's hard not to get swept away when it's late at night, it's the last dance and you're gently swaying to Nora Jones' "Come Away With Me" holding someone close in your arms.

I'll say no more on the subject.

So I get my desktop computer back from the shop on Saturday after repairing the sploded powersupply and upgrading a few things...and my laptop dies on Monday.  So I am sans laptop, ergo sans personal computing at work.  Therefore I have been and will probably continue to be somewhat incommunicado with certain portions of my online friends until this gets resolved.

I have to buy a new laptop.

I cannot afford a new laptop.

But honestly, my job is at such a point where I need a laptop.

I think I know what laptop I am going to buy.

It is $500 more than I want to spend.

I will probably spend it anyways.

I have no willpower when it comes to computers.  I am a weak, weak....weak man.

I NEED A HUG.

Everyone get in line.

"Oh...there's....a....monkey in my pocket
And he's stealing all my change
His stare is blank and glassy
I suspect that he's deranged!"
 - Curse of Monkey Island

So, as I discussed with Inga, I have a new plan to find a mate.  I'm going to go up to every woman I meet and say "I'm selling these fine leather jackets" and the first one that knows what I'm talking about I will propose to on the spot.

Though in all seriousness, I've been feeling pretty damn lonely lately.  I think some aspect of my breakup has snuck up on me that I didn't see coming.  I look at women these days and one of the first things I check is the ring finger (which is usually occupied).

I've had a number of people suggest that I try one of those dating sites.  There doesn't seem to be as much social stigma with them as there used to be, and it worked for Pam.  But I don't know.  Something about it sets me on edge.  It's like you're admitting defeat.  Or desperation.  Or a desperate defeat.  It just seems weird to me that you would go out without someone with the express purpose of judging whether they would make a good mate or not.  I kind of think things shouldn't work like that.  That you shouldn't have to look and judge a person on those merits, that if you spark with someone you spark with them.  It's like, if you go looking for a miracle you will never find out.  Miracles happen when you don't look for them.

On the other hand I get the feeling I am being just terribly naive about the whole thing. 

But I do feel I have something to offer damnit.  There may not be many good things about my person, but there is lots of love to give.  I AM WORTH SOMETHING.  KHAAAAAAAAAAAN!

ahem

Anyways....

This is the very first Les Barker poem I heard, and I thought it was just so clever.  I think it's still one of my favorites.

"An Infinite Number of Occasional Tables"

I've got an occasional table
There it is over there
You can tell it's an occasional table
Today's its day off, it's a chair

I've got an occasional table
I can't seem to get it to settle
It's all been a bit unexpected
I thought I was buying a kettle

I took it upstairs on the bus
I always get the bus back from town
It was then it turned into a wardrobe
Took six of us to get it back down

I've got an occasional table
But some of the time I've not
I always rush me dinner
You never know how long you've got

I think I might have another
It skews the element of doubt
It's the kind of occasional table
That's only in when you're out

I thought if I had two they might breed
I'd really quite fancy a set
But with them both being occasional
I don't think they've actually met

I've got some occasional tables
I'm never quite sure where they are
I'd quite like to have a settie
But so far they've not gone so far

I think therefore I am
All we believe stems from this
Except my occasional table
Which only occasionally is

Perhaps there's a parallel universe
Where they all go to live quite a lot
Where they're called usual tables
And only occasionally not

An infinite number of occasional tables
Well then sure there was always one there
I've got an occasional table
Look, here it is, it's a chair

I hereby will assign each song from the Ramsay Midwood album I am listening to to a friend or myself.  It is a description of you.  If you don't like it, tough.

Popular Delusions and the Madness of Cows:

1.  Ringmaster - Taco
2.  I Told You So - Blue
3.  Planet Nixon - me
4.  Withered Yellow Rose - Damo
5.  Jesus is #1 - no idea
6.  Boxwine Ruth E - Inga
7.  Rattlesnake - Suyupi, just because
8.  Weary Head - all my peeps still toiling down in Georgia
9.  Prozac - me (duh)
10.  When God Dips His Pen - I'd say this is Coyote but I don't want him thinking he's God (anymore than he already does)

And today's Les Barker poem.  This one is a little better heard than read, and it has a couple in-jokes for the brits that I don't get, but I still love this one.  Especially about Moses sawing women in two.

"Moses"

Moses worked as a building contractor
For the world famous pharoah, Ben Hur
Building barrack pyramids
Brick built in the old Georgian, they were

But he dreamt of the promised land
Rolling hills and pastoral scenes
We shall build us a home in the wilderness
Lo...Milton Keanes

And though the Israelites wanted to go
The Egyptians said they must stop
"We can tell you haven't finished
It don't come to a point at the top"

"Oh come on," said Moses in anger
Hopping up and down on a Sphinx
"Or I'll call down the wrath of the Almighty.
And drop camel turds in your drinks."

"You can't frighten us," they told Moses
Till he showed them what he could do
He turned his staff into a snake
And sawed a few women in two

Felled them with a couple of card tricks
With aces concealed in his togs
And then announced his finale
"Tomorrow it's going to rain frogs"

"Oh come on," they said, but it happened
For Moses was one of the greats
"Tomorrow you're in for some pestilence."
"Sod off," they said.  "You and your mates."

Pharoah's army followed them to the Red Sea shore
Where they stood with their backs to the lake
Moses held his staff out over the water
And the bastard turned into a snake

"It always does that," said Moses
Dropping his asp to the ground
He tried a few times, but it still didn't work
So they had to walk all the way around

For weeks they followed behind him
Nothing but rocks and sand
Not so much as a little chef
"Oi, where's this Promised Land?"

"Keep your hair on, Aaron.
I've been following a burning bush."
It wasn't much of a story
But it stopped him from getting the push

All his people had headaches
They'd wandered 40 days and nights
So they sent Moses off for some tablets
In search of Timothy Whites

He'd hardly set out on the mountain
When God was there, stood in his way
Just like Charleton Heston but older
And less prone to error, they say

Well he had a few tablets on him
And together they went through them all
"You can have them in slate or in granite.
They look really nice on the wall."

"This bit about coveting me neighbors ass?
That one seems a bit odd.
I don't see the point," said Moses
"You've not been to Sodom," said God

"Now I'll make you my chosen people."
Said God in his shining white cloak
"Circumcision of course is compulsory."
God always liked a good joke.

"Is this Candid Camera," thought Moses
"They'll think I'm really a prat
I fooled 'em with a bush
But there's no way I'll get them with that."

So Moses came down from the mountain
The people said, "where have you been?"
"I have spoken with the Lord," he said
"We're down to ten but adultery's still in."

"I have made with him a covenenent."
Said Moses, feeling silly
"You will be the chosen people
But you've got to chop the end off your willy."

"No skin off my nose," said Moses
But the lads took it all rather hard.
"Seems a bit over the top.
Can't we just have a membership card?"

"I mean, does it get you in night clubs?
Is it something you show at the door?
You can't put it in cash dispensers
You can't remix it all sore."  (not sure about that line)

So they all said adieu to their foreskins
In an orgy of circumcisions
And then they went back to Moses
"Any more great management decisions?"

"We'll go to Gaza and then we'll turn left."
And today by the Jordan they toil
And if only poor Moses had carried straight on
They'd be the ones with the oil

"Administerium and the Science of Unclear Physics"

The element of Administerium originally had no protons, no electrons, and only one neutron
But it grew
And now has five deputy neutrons, seventeen vice neutrons, a hundred and twenty deputy vice neutrons
And five hundred clerical neutrons too

It grew by attracting morons
Particles which tend to group
Often in pairs called scrotons
Which are often found floating in soup

But to speak of particles pairing
Is tautological so to speak
As the literal meaning of "particle" is "part of a testicle"
It's greek

Greek is the language of science
As you may well realize
As in paramedics who give general first aid
And parabolics who specialize

Administerium has a half life of two years
But does not decay, it's been found
That it holds regular reviews
During which the vice neutrons move 'round

Their motion follows the Theory of Relativity
Which as you will also realize
States the neutrons related to the ones at the top
Are the ones most likely to rise

The moron too is active
And can find a higher place on
Rolling up it's trouser leg
At which point it becomes a Mason

At these times there are constant collisions
Moron against moron will knock
Creating what is known as Kinuseless Energy
And one ion:  the ion-the-clock

Administerium expands to fill space and time
And having filled each dimension
Is said to have reached it's Critical Mess
Time taken been inefficient of expansion

One property of Administerium
Observed since man first found it
Is it's relationship with the element Conclusium
It moves in an orbit around it

And the rate at which it approaches
Is halved during each of its half lives
So that every two years it gets halfway there
But never actually arrives

This inert nature of Administerium
Has already briefly been harped on
It belongs with the other inert gasses
Tedium, Xerox, Strollon, Writeon, Crappedon

It's infinite capacity for reflection and retraction
For rendering all things unable
Was discovered by Mendeleev
The man who once said "I've got a period table"

It is a catalyst for the zinc without trace elements
Antipathy, bismal
And more with compounds like calcium hibernate
And ammonia tillhalfpastfour

It has created new concepts in maths
Pie R-squared in the sky
No to the power of 10
Or in chemical terms, not bloody alkali

The first law of Unclear Physics
As the study of this element is known
Is that energy can neither be created nor destroyed
Just saved till it's time to go home

This sudden flow of energy first noted
In Mendeleev's articles
Was at first thought to be the release of travel ions
But is in fact a stream of accelerated farticles

The second law of Unclear Physics
Is that like busses attract
And by the time they achieve linear motion
They are all completely packed

This concept of magnetism in busses
And their grouping in sixes or more
Is usually refered to in Unclear Physics as
Going Ohms Law

The third and final law states
No matter how much energy you spend
No process involving Administerium
Is ever going to

So my home computer is out of commission.  I fried my power supply.  And when I say fry, I mean it literally.  There was flames and smoke in the casing.  So anyways, yeah, no WoW for me for a little while as the computer is in the shop.  I'm also getting the last bit of upgrades done that I've wanted to do for a while (I'm just hoping that I didn't fry anything else.  I haven't heard from the shop yet so who knows).  What does this mean?  This means I'm bored.  Saturday I watched all three Netflix movies I had at home (I keep forgetting to mail those off).  Jacob's Ladder, which Coyote made me rent and I've had sitting at home since 2004.  I'm not kidding.  I think Netflix thought I owned it by now.  Day of the Triffids, which is the first movie I've watched that I've actually wanted to remake.  Not a fan of remakes, though not to a Coyote level of hatred, and the movie itself wasn't bad, but I think if I remade it I could make it friggen awesome.  And Local Hero, which I've seen before.  I love that movie.

Anyways, what did I do last night without my home computer?  I put the football game on mute, powered up my laptop and wrote.  I worked on my Pebbleman story.  I did something that wasn't exactly writing but made me feel good nonetheless.  I made notes throughout the document as to what was going to happen where, and the whole thing has a structure.  I simply have to fill in the notes.  I wanted to do that because during the day I thought of a few small things that I wanted to get down but I couldn't tell exactly where they should go.  Once I made the notes I got those little things in.  Then I wrote an entire big section.

I like how it's turning out.

And to satisfy my paranoia I copied the document into a word file.

Holy FUCK is it long.  Like most men, I'm obsessed with length (budum ching).  I know it's juvenile, at this point I do believe a story is as long as it needs to be, but still, I feel better if something is longer because I feel I have put a good amount of work into it.  I can cut the crap later on.  But this story is getting looooooooooong.  Joker, which I consider to be a fairly lengthy short story, is 10 Word pages long.  Pebbleman is 23 pages, and with the notes I'd say I have a good third of the story to go, if not more.  The weird thing is I never intended for it to get this long.  I always planned on it being a short story, but it's turning into a novella.  It still won't be a novel.  But damn.  I'd be worried that it's getting overlong but I feel like I'm putting in the bare minimum as it is.

I think once I get the a full first draft I'll release it to the prying eyes that want to see, and maybe force a couple of eyes that don't.  I'LL EXPECT COMMENTS, BITCHES.

Anyways, another Les Barker poem.  I love this one for one specific line, it makes me giggle.  See if you can guess which one!

"Sex is Better Than Poetry"

Sometimes I wander down memory lane
Some things spring to mind straight away
Sex in a previous century's
More vivid than poetry today

I remember Helen and Julie was fun
And evenings with Evelyn were ace
But Shakespeare and Milton and Wordsworth and Donne
Disappear forever, no trace

Who here has been rendered ecstatic
By Betjemin, Byron or Scott?
Is poetry better than sex?
No, it's bloody well not

Words it was not, it was women
Who took those sweet years of my time
I never went down to the pub
To see if two sentences rhymed

Nights down dark lanes in the back seats of cars
Was it poetry that gave our hearts wings?
Was it poetry that steamed up the windows?
Was it poetry that tested the springs?

Did the thrill of iambic pentameter
Keep the fires of our passion red hot?
Is poetry better than sex?
No, it's bloody well not

Does my soul sing out for, say, Shelley?
No, his verses are just so much froth
Should we have more sex on the telly?
Yes, though I keep falling off

If you were alone in some far away place
And the evening was starting to drag
If you had to choose which one would you refuse
The Lady of Shallot or a shag?

By the latter, in clarification,
I did not mean a guillemot
Is poetry better than sex?
No, it's bloody well not

If poetry was better than sex
There'd be a torrent of spam sent upon it
"Make your limerick last half an hour"
"Add an extra four lines to your sonnet"

There's no "you are not long, fellow.
The opposite sex will not like you.
They want a man with a big soliloquy
And you've only got a haiku."

Are there emails, perhaps, from Nigerian chaps
Who would steal every poem you've got?
Is poetry better than sex?
No, it's bloody well not.

Have I passed long years of pure pleasure
In pursuit of the most perfect rhyme?
Oh no, that to me is no treasure
Procreation's been the thief of my time

And when I have something to say
A passion I need to express
Do I care overmuch about scansion and rhyme?
No.

What are words when two souls might be dancing
That sweet horizontal gavotte
Is poetry better than sex?
No, it's bloody well not

The Odyssey, The Illiad, in days far behind
Did I seek out girls who could quote 'em?
Is the way to my heart through the doors of mind?
No, like most men I'm led by the scrotum

I get quite confused when I see a handus(?)
To write verse whether rhyming or blank
Some other employment would bring more enjoyment
That's what I think, to be frank

The day that I'm cursed with a preference for verse
You can order my hearse on the spot
Is poetry better than sex?
No, it's bloody well not

"The amazing Mastertool Corporation, a subsidiary of Fly By Night Industries has instructed who, me, to tell you about the handiest and the dandiest kitchen tool and dontcha want to know how it works?  Take two ordinary apples.  Place them between the patented pans, then reach for the kitchen tool that's not a slicer, it's not a dicer, it's not a chopper in a hopper.  What in the hell could it possibly be?  SLEDGEAMATIC!"
 - Gallager

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you....

LES BARKER WEEK!

Yes, each day this week I will be posting a poem from my favorite poet (one of perhaps two poets that I like like), Les Barker.

Les Barker is a comic poet from Manchester, England.  He got an economics degree, but now spends his time writing comic poems, comic song parodies, and serious songs of an anti-war bent (he was doing so long before the current war, so he's an old school pacifist) and performing them at folk fairs around England.  You can find more about him (and purchase a few CD's yeah?) here and here

Of course, the written word just doesn't do the spoken word albums justice.  JUST BUY SOME FRIGGEN CD'S OK?  MAYBE HE'LL MAKE SOME MORE THEN.

Also, James, you have my entire Les Barker collection on mp3 and if you haven't listened to them yet I will buy a special gun to shoot you.

And this one is more a free form poem, most of them are very well rhymed and such.

"Detritus"

Go placidly amid the noise and haste
And remember what peace there may be in silence
Do not walk behind me for I may not lead
Do not walk in front for I may not follow
Go over there somewhere

Speak your truth quietly and clearly
Be open-minded, but do not lean forward or your brain may fall out

Know that there will be good days and there will be bad days
And this is one of them

Always dismantle and clean the dog before going to bed
But avoid the use of spot remover, you may never see him again

You are a child of the universe
It is a small world unless you have to paint it
Do not wish for everything unless you have a really big cupboard

Avoid loud and aggresive persons
Sleep well
If you cannot sleep well, practice more often

Borrow from pessimists, they don't expect it back

Remember if you give a man a fish he will eat for a day
Teach him to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink himself stupid

It is always darkest before the dawn
That is the time to steal your neighbors newspaper

Be gentle with yourself
Bear in mind that depression is anger without enthusiasm
And good health merely the slowest way to die

Never argue with a fool for he is doing the same

Know that if at first you don't succeed sky-diving's not a good idea
And that timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance

Always remember that all is not lost
Though I haven't seen it for some time

Be yourself
If you cannot become wiser try to be older

Never stand between the dog and the lamppost
And never hit a man with glasses
Always use something bigger and heavier
And remember that some people are only alive because it's illegal to kill them

A closed mouth gathers no feet
Nature abhors a vacuum cleaner

Be cheerful
Strive to be happy
And remember that your sole purpose in life is to serve a warning to others

Go far
And start as soon as possible

Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
 - Bull Durham

So I just got back from Chicago.  I drove up Wednesday afternoon, went to a Cubs game with my mother Wednesday night, and drove back Thursday afternoon.

The game was...awesome.  I don't think I've ever been to a game like that.  A Cubs broadcaster called it the game of the century.  I don't know if I'd go that far, but it was truly amazing.  Cubs won, 3-2, and never has the crowd been so into.  Let me paint you the picture.

Top of the 7th, Ted Lilly (of the Cubs for you neophytes) is pitching.  Men on first and third, one out.  Score is tied, 2-2.  It's a tense moment.  Ken Griffey Jr. is at the plate.  He's got 2 strikes.  The crowd stands up, starts cheering, clapping, rooting on Ted Lilly.  The pitch, Griffey strikes out, the crowd screams in excitement.  That's a big out.  Now there's two down, the next guy is at the plate, I don't even know who it is.  Again, Lilly works to two strikes.  He gets the ball back from the catcher.  At this point, EVERYONE is on their feet, screaming, yelling as hard as they can, clapping, Wrigley Field is just rocking.  Lilly comes into the set position, getting ready to throw.  At this point I hear this sort of wail come up, rising in pitch, and I realize it's the crowd.  I had thought they were in full throat, I had never heard a crowd so loud.  And then they kicked it up another notch.  The crowd rose electric, a wall of sound crashing over the field.  I heard a crowd go to eleven.  Lilly winds up, the pitch, strike three swinging.  And Wrigley ERUPTS.  People were going nuts, laughing, crying, hugging each other.  I was high-fiving everyone around me, though they were total strangers.  It was a mad house.  Cubs legend Billy Williams starts up Take Me Out to the Ballgame for the 7th inning stretch and you can't even hear him.  Everyone at the stadium was singing at the top of their lungs, as one voice.

The entire game was like that.  Just nuts in an awesome way.  I love Cubs games.  Where complete strangers will give you the shirt off your back because you are wearing a Cubs hat.  Everyone is nice and friendly.

But that's not what I came here to talk about.

No, I came here to talk about billboards.

I am a sign reader, especially when I am in the passenger seat of a car.  And there is no better place to read signs than the highways of Chicago, where the billboards are ancient and reused.  I love Chicago.  Driving through Indiana or Georgia you see signs for Jesus or anti-abortion hotlines.  Last time I was home in Chicago I saw a billboard for an escort agency.  This time I saw one for 24 hour massage parlor (it was like adultfungirls.com).  How awesome is that.  Hookers have billboards in Chicago.

What's great about Chicago is that it isn't trying to be something.  Like how some towns are trying to be hipster havens or right-wing meccas.  Chicago doesn't give a shit about that.  It's not trying to be anything.  Chicago is Chicago.  Chicago is.

All right, the cat's out of the bag; it's fair game for me to chase it!
 - Anatomy of a Murder

I finished all the backstory vignettes for my newest story.  Now, do I send out the invites and let people take a look or do I wait until I have more of the actual story in there?  Decisions, decisions.

(part of me wants input on this, the other part just wants to torture Coyote)

I think about this story a lot and the actual story part is starting to take shape in my mind some.  But I'm slowing down on the writing of it, which is bad.  Can't let it sit.

Also, special blog theme coming up next week...which isn't that special.  Don't get your hopes up.

THINK NEGATIVE THOUGHTS

Lastly, Inga and I need to get to work on writing the Turgid Boys mysteries.  Red #9 is the Devil.  It could be a metaphor.

Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright.
 - The Wolf Man

It's an absolutely gorgeous day out.  The air is cool, 61 degrees, and the wind is just a little bit cooler.  The sky is completely overcast and as you walk outside every once in a while you'll feel a fleck of rain on your cheek.  It brings that particular sense of being alive that the first hints of autumn carries, when the day is just a little colder than it should be.  This is a midwest fall, not the lazy heat of the Georgia fall.  And I love it.  I love weather like this.  Makes me feel warm and sleepy and attentive all at once.  I can't wait for the first real fall day.  When the leaves have changed and it's rainy and wet and a chill wind cuts right through you.  When you can smell seasons change.  It's moments like those that made me move back up north.

Today is September 11th, and reading over Blue's post today reminded me that it was 9/11.  I had almost forgotten.  I feel somewhat guilty about that.  But then again, not.  I still hold the memories of that day with me, of what it was like.  But I won't dwell in that past.  I'll never forget, but I can move on.

Lastly, all of you lazy fuckers who talk about writing better start writing.  I expect to read some things forthwith.  I mean, even I am writing, and I haven't written anything in years.  So if there isn't new writing to be had I will raise holy hell.