Up against and for

Another beautiful day in Solana Beach and another beautiful morning and another beautiful song by the great Elliot Smith, speaking for anyone standing, smiling on some fantasy island waiting for the moon to pull again.  But the tide's coming in.

I dreamt I was in the stone streets, walking without direction into the thick haze of night fog that blankets the hot breath from the mouths of vagabonds and floating blind spirits.  Corporeal and heady, the city of scoundrels took very little notice of me.  Someone struck a match and watched it land on the top of a roof below, a thin line of flame dancing and reaching its way higher with a snap of its flagellate red tendrils.

They screamed then.  All of the silent wraiths and yesterday's gentlemen, shouting with unabashed joy as the flames danced for them, sending up wispy whorls of smoke.  The smoke mingling with the fog, spreading the haze across miles, mountains and great rivers.  

One of them came to me and grabbed my hand and told me to dance, to dance before the flame went out.  I asked him if it would be too late after the flame was gone.  He didn't know, and he wrote nine words on the wall with his finger dipped in a pile of soot.

Msg: PRIVATE LOL ;)

Hackers gonna hack.

Oh, $#!+.  Not again.


Yes, everyone's favorite political crapshow has officially passed its climax and is starting its slow descent into the denouement.  As Weiner (side note: YOUR NAME IS WEINER, SIR.  OF ALL PEOPLE, YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS MOST PRESSED TO BE CAREFUL.  I MEAN, FOR GODS SAKE, IMAGINE A HEADLINE CONCERNING LARRY WEIDSTANTS OR MARK BOIESAURFUN.  COME ON.) resigns himself to his fate and relinquishes his title as a member (hehehe) of Congress, we are now, as a nation, forced to pay attention to issues that will actually impact our lives and are significantly less primed for sophomoric genital-themed jokes.  But don't worry.  The GOP candidate lineup will keep us laughing, and you know what laughter is?  Not only is it the best medicine, it is also a reaction to certain stimuli that serves as an emotional balancing mechanism.  Also, America.




And Mom, Dad?  Worry not; no actual animals were harmed in the writing of this post.  Nor was there actual nudity.
Here's the original photo.

This photo was digitally censored in order to create the effect of implied nudity for comedic purposes.

Stay classy, America.  Thanks for stopping by.

Act of virtue

Having successfully completed a detailed and comprehensive outline for my philosophy paper (approximately 85% of the work), I feel good about this day.  No matter that the weather has decided to sulk in its room and listen to angsty punk rock.

I know that this is kind of old news, but it's been on my mind for a while, so I'll resurrect it.  A group of senior Japanese citizens volunteered to perform difficult and dangerous work at the Fukushima power plant, willingly exposing themselves to radiation in order to protect others from having to do the same.  The moniker that they've earned, "Suicide Corps," is catchy, but I don't believe it captures the character and honor that this group exemplifies (the citizens involved apparently don't like the unofficial title either).  Nowhere in the psyches of these people is there a death wish.  What is there is an unshakeable sense of honor, duty, and meaningful sacrifice.  Hero Corps would be more fitting.

This story caught my eye for a lot of reasons.  I followed the development of the tsunami story fairly closely, out of interest in confirming that my relatives in Japan were safe.  As more news came in, I was glad, but also surprised that despite a national crisis, the Japanese remained civil, orderly, and in many cases selfless.  I heard virtually no stories regarding looting, crowd chaos, or cutthroat behavior.  When I later learned of the existence of the Suicide/Hero Corps, I can't say I was terribly surprised, nor did I find this story to be particularly sensational.  For me, these senior citizens are simply continuing the tradition of giving their fellow man the respect and kindness that they need and deserve.  This is not a suicide squad.  These are incredibly courageous men and women who wish to see Japan come out of this disaster as unharmed as possible.  These are heroes, and should be respected as such.


Also, here is a pack of corgis.

Half a mind

Note to all of those reading at home: when you do a load of laundry that contains heavily embellished jeans, particularly jeans with metal studs or hooks, said jeans WILL catch onto all other items of clothing in laundry.  Turn jeans inside out. ??????  Profit!

Aside from a few minor mishaps, a fairly successful, if uneventful afternoon in Claremont.  Unfortunately not as bright and beautiful as yesterday, but still worth a good frolic in the grass (not that I could take part; a philosophy exam tomorrow is keeping me indoors).  When I was passing from cla




[author has been dragged away from computer by a forceful team of ethical theorists.  survival is uncertain]

If you can't answer a man's arguments, all is not lost; you can still call him vile names.

Well.  That was a far more extensive leave of absence than I expected to take.  

Where do I begin?  I barely remember where I left off.  We were all in the final throes of exams and papers, and people tend to lose each other and themselves right around then.  People lock themselves in a room and hardly ever come out for air, interpersonal communication screeches to a dead halt as people power down their cell phones and block Facebook on their computers, the dining halls become less and less populated, and the campus generally just looks like a ghost town.  Frankly, the campus looks like a possibly post-apocolyptic ghost town for the summer, for all of us who decided to stick around for one reason or another.  But, aside from a few mistakes during the first week (Socal, get it together), it's been warm and sunny and generally beautiful.

I believe my external productivity is inversely related to my current level of introspection.  Quite honestly, I believe that's why I haven't been writing; when there's too much in your head and each piece wants all of your attention, it is nigh but impossible to organize anything into a coherent chunk.  But my mind feels ready, after a much-needed trip around the universe, so to speak.

Oscar Wilde once stated that he chose his friends for their good looks, his acquaintances for their good characters and his enemies for their good intellects.  I have to wonder where I got all of my smart friends.