Our house on Braefoot

Sometime ago I posted about a scammer advertising a house on Braefoot Road. I am glad that I did because I helped others apart from myself avoid this scam and could share my frustration with a few people.

But I thought I should report an odd coincidence, for the sake of pointing out that life is sometimes strange. I will be living on Braefoot. This house actually exists. It very obviously does. It has a bit of history and a bit of glory and a green house. It is strange, though my roommates do not mind it, that the first place we considered (a scam) happens to be the same street, the same block, as the home we will now have.

House of the Future.

I've never been to Disneyland. Maybe it's better that way. This does have it's appeal. It's weird, and in some ways idiotic. It is deliciously archaic. But the kitchen is pretty darn awesome, ignoring the fact that eating in it would make you dead. But imagine how oily it would get after a few years!

Blog post post

Every time my one roommate does something melodramatic my other yells, 'why don't you post about it on your blog.'

I gather that is is an example of a general rule. Furthermore, in the pretentious circles one is to use a selection from a philosopher to prove a point. As such I shall now attempt to be emo.

Plato says that there are certain natures that readily accept philosophy, and those ought to be philosophers and not any other. He also says that to avoid being corrupted even if one does have such a nature requires intervention from the divine.

I do rather believe in a spirit world, and that there are things beyond here. Unfortunetely I somehow made the mistake of believing in such things without believing that I was special enough to be granted them, because that's just egotistical. So if I have a philosophical nature I still need divine intervention to get me to any useful sort of knowledge.

Obviously I should be a writer and not a philosopher. Then all I need is the second! It isn't necessary to know the form of the Good to write a good story after all.

Common sense and science

I like to read the bill-boards in front of schools, churches, and so one. It was evening and I was on the bus, reading Utopia. I ran into an interesting idea, though I do not remember what it was, and stopped reading to look at the sign on the church, "faith is believing what common-sense tells you not to believe." I laughed.

In philosophy we discussed qualia, those qualitative experiences within ones mind which cannot be applied to or described by science. We also learned about the self. Both the self and the qualia which serve it are unscientific things. They are common-sense things. Taken a little further such believes lead us to dualism. Dualism is the belief that our selves and our personal experiences relate to something else, another portion of existence apart from the material world. Another step and we have religion.

On the other side is the belief that ourselves are simply constant conjunction and that everything we feel will be 'properly' explaind in future science.

For me, therefore, the sign told me to ignore the deep-rooted commonsense belief in self and accept the harsh but realistic views of science. Silly sign.

Prologues in fantasy

Since I have bashed all 'non-genre' areas of writing I feel like I ought to move on to the genres.

We shall start at the beginning...actually, no. We shall start about five hundred years before the beginning in material so very dull it would put a history major (being one, I know) to sleep.

Once the Gods came, five of two and two of four.

The Gods made the world (out of rice) and a prophecy.

The prophecy said that one would rise to save the world
though it had not fallen yet.

The Gods fought a had a war, and the Gods died,
The Gods fought, and fought, and fought,
and it was harsh, and dark, and sort of sad.

Or maybe the Gods did not die and we
just thought they did because of all the dust.

A man arose, and he was very, very bad.
He did many bad things, and some sad.
He owned a cat, a cape, and an army.
The army worshipped him because they had
no brains. It was harsh, and dark, and sad.

postmodernism impression comic

I do think that postmodernism is more then just denial of structure. (It's also denial of meaning!) Derrida aside, I find people who think misspelling things is funny to be a tad bit crude (sort of like a comic made on paint, however, they should not belittle the inability to spell, as it is such a traumatizing ailment!). But really, what have the words ever done to you?

My postmoder(ism?) impression

Lost in translation translated my modernism impression from English through five languages and then into English again. I don't think I have postmoderism down; I don't even know if it exists. I assume as a reaction to the modernist view my last post would be the postmodern one, this is just gibberish. But fun gibberish.

They are selected by these mornings. The luminous ones of the non-equal and external coffee. The way that the same light is not the same external part... [Sounds like what I'm studying in philosophy right now!] that the form gives. Did I forget that it introduces milk? Cheap milk is not milk at all. [Very true.] I cannot drink milk.

It is the soy oil (or possibly a coffee launderer.) those that the doctor said to take. To make the examination is really the end. [Don't have a bloody clue where this came from.] I am in my car -- in the God of the traffic, in the aversion of the traffic. And of me it drinks East Coffee with no launderer. Great beginning to the day, is it pageantry of the right? [not even sure anymore...]

I spilled my coffee in the external world of the traverse box. [ahem, car.] Traffic is of the damned! But I am an expert at arriving. Who is the same old man and the same old work? It is same old people and the same old office of the man. [The old man?] God, what an aversion I have to work. It is so similar.... But really, my coffee was terrible. It is normally correct, but today? Terrible. I have an East Kaffegenerator. [ I just can't delete this one. I really want to know why coffee is associated with east though.] It was great, every day, when I would eat a great cup of the coffee. But now? This does not work very well. I must possibly clean above it.

Since I used a computer program to base my changes on I have entered a grey area of ownership. I edited the output, and changed it outright in places, but if the program or the programmer has ownership then that would be just the same as picking up a book and changing it a little. Is it the percentage of the change that makes it mine? The program just did what it was told, where as I provided the original and the final copy. Joint ownership maybe?

My modernism impression

So I got up this morning. It wasn't even light out...Not even light out and I'm making my coffee. And I forget to put milk in it, right? Well, not really milk. I can't drink milk. Soy supplement (or maybe its just coffee whitener) the doctor said to take it. That isn't really the point. So I'm in my car, in the traffic – god I hate the traffic – and I've got this coffee with no milk--whitener! Great start to the day, right?

So anyway, I got to work okay, well, not really okay. Damned traffic. But I get there and it's just the same old job y'know? The same old people; same old desk. God, I hate my job. It's so...similar. But really, my coffee was awful today. Usually it's okay, but today it was awful. I have this coffee maker, the one they advertise. It was great, every day I'd have a great cup of coffee. But now? It doesn't work so well. Maybe I need to clean it.

Coming up next, post modernism! Or maybe I should do an impression on impression of postmodernism and just spell everything wrong. I suddenly occurs to me how overdone this is.

Carnivorous fungi

My sister and I were searching for the name for those fungi which go carnivorous if left in dark places for long periods of time. They are in fact called carnivorous fungi, we were rather disapointed.

The follow poem resulted from the wikipedia article we found on the subject. Please remember that carnivorous fungi are a very serious matter and this poem is most certainly not meant to amuse. It is in fact very much filled with pain, suffering, and microbiological angst, enjoy.

From out the stygian muck
the fungus monster crawled
all slime and goo and hungry
and little worms it mauled.

The carnivorous fungi never wanted to die
They wanted to fly, not land in a pie
To be free in a forest, not stuck in the dark
growing little tendrils, digesting a lark.

But now that they are there,
they shall eat all your pie,
for if they did not,
they would most certainly die.

The fungi only needed nutrients,
not to canabilize the animal-mites,
amoebaeotic sprites out of which they took bites.
little amoebae, so helpless and cute,
(though without a microscope
my view is rather moot.)

Predaceous fungi in soil do live
where the species they trap,
not at all like a sieve.

The nematodes eaten
shall never return,
they are all digested
they never do learn.

Alas, poor fungi, all alone in the dark and damp rooms of dirt and cupboard
with no one to love them or mate with them to create more little fungus
monsters.

Writerly rules

One day I was happily googling along when I found a list of rules for fantasy writing. Many things I once avoided I did so because these sorts of rules, rules that were often misinterpreted and led to prose almost as bad as that which it forbid. To that end I wrote this list. It is of humorous intent and nothing more.

There were 30, there are now 28; because the Holy Roman Empire does not relate directly to writing I removed those rules involving his Imperialness.

1. Do not use dragons: they are unoriginal.

2. All stories must be in limited 3rd person.

3. Stories cannot contain more than five leading characters.

4. All stories must have a short intro, three rising actions, a climax, and a tidy clse. 7 parts, max.

5. No story may be written in colloguial english, ever.

6. No story may be based in a school of magic.

7. Absolute villains are forbidden.

8. All stories must contain a lovestory subplot.

9. Charismatic heroes are forbidden.

10. All stories must contain both minority groups in sex, sexual preference, race, and age.

11. All characters must have an interest in popular culture.

12. 400 CE to 1400 CE (the middle ages) are not to be used as setting, in fact stay out of Europe all together.

13. Ninja must never be used as characters (though they are acceptable as plot devices.)

14. All stories must begin with a MYSTERIOUS INCIDENT which leads to confusion and bustle.

15. All main characters must be young (no older than 20), except the wise advisor who must be old (no younger than 50).

16. No matter how large a world you create by the end of the book the reader must know every detail of that world.

17. All writers must create their own worlds.
b. Worlds may have no more than three cultures.
c. There must be gods.

18. No matter how poor the rural areas are the cities must always be highly advanced.

19. Simple problems must take at least a fortnight to solve.

20. Complex or unsolvable problems are to be solved in no more then 18 minutes.

21. Characters must never make factual errors.

22. The main characters must always have horrible flaws.
b. it is forbidden that the main character be interesting or likeable.

23. One should never pay close attention to workplaces, city systems, rural practices, or other mere technicallities.

24. No character may be named Richard, Roy, Harris, James, or any other name appearing in our world (even if they are from our world).

25. All urban heroes must wear trenchcoats.

26. All non-urban heroes must wear chainmail.

27. No character is permitted to be perfect.

28. Kings are either good or bad, there is no in-between.

Not that rules and lists are a bad thing, I adore them. Many people adore them. It may be our utter adoration of them that leads us into these problems. Like feudalism, building on something that does not exist.