I go off on a tear being anti-corporate like I'm George Carlin's long lost grandkid or something, sometimes. And then bang-o...something from my formative years comes busting out.
I woke up the other day after failing to sleep off a headache that consumed most of the daylight hours. I further medicated, caffeinated, and eventually conquered it.
Not before an old network bumper from the old viacom/emptyvee proto-kids network Nickelodeon got stuck in my head. Nicknick nicknick na nicknicknick... Haw de lo hup hivvel hup nick...etc.
Those bits of harmonized babble are writ down at root level with machine-language file protection deep in the firmware of my brainmeats. I bet they'd be glad, if anyone who developed these old bumpers still worked there.
I'm not even gonna link to the video. You can find it by searching 'nick doo wop' o'er at teh goo-tubez.
I realize I may rail against some things that capitalism has given to, taken from, or forced upon the world. But I can appreciate just as many truly creative side-effects. Call it the American two-step of protest-then-facepalm.
I also wonder if any rappers, of any nationality or racial stripe, have sampled these sounds. I found myself immediately wondering if I could edit their doo wop syllables into a nursery rhyme like 'Knick Knack Paddy Whack.'
And that was before I remembered the Mr. Bungle song with 'knick-knack-paddywhack' as a refrain. *evil grin*
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
wherever u go, there u r
I gotta admit I'd begun to be a news junkie again. Blame Rachel Maddow.
I dialed into Air America on the job back in the day. After being banished from ipod listening at work while I typed. Suddenly data entry had to be performed only accompanied by the stale breath of MPR.
Not only that classical sleep soundtrack, but this starvation rations thin and staticky from across the room via a stentorian co worker with a rod for a spine who wouldn't know a good time if it bit him on the neck.
So I had taken to the barely audible no-headphones approach and tuned in the brain freeing influence of Chuck D, Lizz Winstead and Rachel. It helped keep me awake when MPR threatened coma.
Of course paying attention to the news is equal parts shooting yourself in the foot and daring ennui or insanity.
Being up to date on the news of the health care reform "debate" isn't supposed to give me a damned ulcer.
Mom chastised me for being too political about a month ago. I comment on what I experience. Sometimes the news got a big portion of my day. That seems to be passing, as it did after my Air America phase on the job.
Soon enough they cut off any autonomous listening privileges. I could bring in a radio if I had to, but using it was never actually possible. If I tried, cubicle nemesis suddenly had to turn MPR up for some reason.
I was being outmaneuvered, and persistently never addressing the issue to my face rapidly lost them respect in my eyes. Patience frayed on both sides, and I was offered the opportunity to quit, or be sacked.
In the end, I took the unemployment. I never gave up working my skills for them. They began to selectively accept how I performed best, and whittled my effectiveness in their sandbox down to a toothpick's worth of where and how I'd began in their employ. Clueless capitalists abound.
I have no regrets about that tired scene. I can't believe I've rambled about it years later.
But NaNoWriMo is chugging along. Coaxing out my muse and letting it ramble must be affecting my blogging.
There is no day thirteen. I'm keeping rough chapters divided by the progress made each day. Not exactly dividing scenes. Sometimes they branch from day to day right in the midst of a scene.
I've sketched out a scene later on that I'll either cut and revise in, embellishing as needed when I come to it, or abandon entirely at any number of forks in the path before it. Lovely nihilism, that.
I'm not actually moving forward on the plot today, at least yet. I've got a sketch of the coming chapters that exploded somewhere inside my forehead last evening. A brief satori of plottage and witty snaps of characters that haven't been written yet.
Oh Eris, Loki, oh Jupiter. Oh Goddess, Jah, Abraham, Mary, Mohammed, Allah...
I don't mean to profane. I thank them all, and only my family members complain.
Sometimes I imagine sitting at the table where they all share the multiverse.
I keep scribbling my words in wobbly-legged stacks, inspired but solitary, for now.
I dialed into Air America on the job back in the day. After being banished from ipod listening at work while I typed. Suddenly data entry had to be performed only accompanied by the stale breath of MPR.
Not only that classical sleep soundtrack, but this starvation rations thin and staticky from across the room via a stentorian co worker with a rod for a spine who wouldn't know a good time if it bit him on the neck.
So I had taken to the barely audible no-headphones approach and tuned in the brain freeing influence of Chuck D, Lizz Winstead and Rachel. It helped keep me awake when MPR threatened coma.
Of course paying attention to the news is equal parts shooting yourself in the foot and daring ennui or insanity.
Being up to date on the news of the health care reform "debate" isn't supposed to give me a damned ulcer.
Mom chastised me for being too political about a month ago. I comment on what I experience. Sometimes the news got a big portion of my day. That seems to be passing, as it did after my Air America phase on the job.
Soon enough they cut off any autonomous listening privileges. I could bring in a radio if I had to, but using it was never actually possible. If I tried, cubicle nemesis suddenly had to turn MPR up for some reason.
I was being outmaneuvered, and persistently never addressing the issue to my face rapidly lost them respect in my eyes. Patience frayed on both sides, and I was offered the opportunity to quit, or be sacked.
In the end, I took the unemployment. I never gave up working my skills for them. They began to selectively accept how I performed best, and whittled my effectiveness in their sandbox down to a toothpick's worth of where and how I'd began in their employ. Clueless capitalists abound.
I have no regrets about that tired scene. I can't believe I've rambled about it years later.
But NaNoWriMo is chugging along. Coaxing out my muse and letting it ramble must be affecting my blogging.
There is no day thirteen. I'm keeping rough chapters divided by the progress made each day. Not exactly dividing scenes. Sometimes they branch from day to day right in the midst of a scene.
I've sketched out a scene later on that I'll either cut and revise in, embellishing as needed when I come to it, or abandon entirely at any number of forks in the path before it. Lovely nihilism, that.
I'm not actually moving forward on the plot today, at least yet. I've got a sketch of the coming chapters that exploded somewhere inside my forehead last evening. A brief satori of plottage and witty snaps of characters that haven't been written yet.
Oh Eris, Loki, oh Jupiter. Oh Goddess, Jah, Abraham, Mary, Mohammed, Allah...
I don't mean to profane. I thank them all, and only my family members complain.
Sometimes I imagine sitting at the table where they all share the multiverse.
I keep scribbling my words in wobbly-legged stacks, inspired but solitary, for now.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
writing and rewards
I've been hammering out words for this year's NaNoWriMo. I don't know what's kept me from trying it in previous years, other than those in which I had a paying day jobb of werk.
I'm coming around the bend between 17k and 20k words. It's amusing, like using a long since dormant muscle that never actually atrophied.
In parallel lines of communication, it seems from smelling the dust at the Soul Asylum message board that the band's kicking around the idea of doing another album. They did nicely back in May in Mound, Mn.
I have been pleasantly amused by Ryan Adams selling digital singles in recent weeks. I've bought each one. Imagine my chagrin after being a regular at a Weezer board lately, I went and missed Ryan's new pink 7-inch single. It was cheap, but I missed it.
Not to fear, though. I reached out to a RA junkie I used to live near, and she threw me a link to the songs, which being an exhaustive completist for the artists I follow, let me absorb the content. I thanked her three times.
I don't think three hours passed before a friend of hers was offering to send me a spare 7 inch she had been sent by mistake. Again I thank Goddess and the skies and try not to dwell much on what I could've done to be blessed thusly. Despite my human failing of endless wonderment, I let it go with a threefold thanks.
I scuttled up a handful of old Weezer bootlegs from a fellow forum user, and found about every version of the pre-Green Album era song 'Superstar' that could've been 3-5x bigger for the band than 'Hash Pipe' ever was.
Another place in which I lurk, a random collection of audiophiles sharing enthusiasm about the music they love, shot me a link to a "bonus" ep a favorite artist of mine had sold only at iTms. So I have what everyone else who paid the same as I did got, but without having to lose another Lincoln.
It has been a good Samhain and despite a nappy streak this weekend, I hope to pass 30k words before next weekend. With coffee, my Ryan Adams writing playlist going, and a wee nip of the herb if medically indicated...I'd hesitate to say so, but this feels pretty good.
I'm coming around the bend between 17k and 20k words. It's amusing, like using a long since dormant muscle that never actually atrophied.
In parallel lines of communication, it seems from smelling the dust at the Soul Asylum message board that the band's kicking around the idea of doing another album. They did nicely back in May in Mound, Mn.
I have been pleasantly amused by Ryan Adams selling digital singles in recent weeks. I've bought each one. Imagine my chagrin after being a regular at a Weezer board lately, I went and missed Ryan's new pink 7-inch single. It was cheap, but I missed it.
Not to fear, though. I reached out to a RA junkie I used to live near, and she threw me a link to the songs, which being an exhaustive completist for the artists I follow, let me absorb the content. I thanked her three times.
I don't think three hours passed before a friend of hers was offering to send me a spare 7 inch she had been sent by mistake. Again I thank Goddess and the skies and try not to dwell much on what I could've done to be blessed thusly. Despite my human failing of endless wonderment, I let it go with a threefold thanks.
I scuttled up a handful of old Weezer bootlegs from a fellow forum user, and found about every version of the pre-Green Album era song 'Superstar' that could've been 3-5x bigger for the band than 'Hash Pipe' ever was.
Another place in which I lurk, a random collection of audiophiles sharing enthusiasm about the music they love, shot me a link to a "bonus" ep a favorite artist of mine had sold only at iTms. So I have what everyone else who paid the same as I did got, but without having to lose another Lincoln.
It has been a good Samhain and despite a nappy streak this weekend, I hope to pass 30k words before next weekend. With coffee, my Ryan Adams writing playlist going, and a wee nip of the herb if medically indicated...I'd hesitate to say so, but this feels pretty good.
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