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Showing posts from 2011

The Decline and Fall of a Decorated Veteran of Christmas Past

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The Fabrication of a Word

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s n u u s p e a r o su ne ous pra nesu pra ous prasu neou s suous nepra The little man comes along into this mess The little man who studies Brazil not Brazilian himself su ousne pra He says to himself sune praous Says he to himself: "Where do all these pieces go?" su ous pra ne – "Supreousne!" The little man wearing mirror spectacles… ...thought it not quite right yet supreousne supreousne supeousrne He dipped his quill supreciously Dipped his quill did he in a gleaming ink pot soon he wrote "supraneously" supraneous adjective : characterized by the vertiginous replication of mutated iterations of a particular aesthetic form First known use: 2011

Giggle Christ

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Christian stoners united around a polymorphic Book of Hours Sick cattle in Devonshire Rainstorm on the outskirts of Bangkok War in Equinoctial Kesh These Christian stoners will go just about anywhere carrying Bibles and bags of Cheetos Hernia Outbreak in Tripplehorn County? you best believe Christian stoners got there already playing their lutes laughing in tongues Spreading the good word about the nature of that universe there "Who are they?" ask the newsmen "Are they in cahoots with cartels?” question the cops "Why don't they go back where they came from" bark the troglodytes A fad that will pass or a scene that lasts Christian stoners will carry the day A joint for your troubles A crucifix bong for the suffering the unlimited suffering of strips of tortured flesh thick sluggish blood pain that grows greater with each choice so take another rip and munch His body

The Basement Arcadist

A version of this article I wrote 9 months ago was originally published in the zine Connect the Dots. The online supplement to Connect the Dots can be found  here. We know of a remote arcade in Berkeley. Every Friday night, games are played there. Down an unlit street in the southern reaches of town, one may find an unmarked blue door with an ornate knocker at its center. When the intrepid soul enters for the first time, bathed in the ethereal glow emanating from dozens of seemingly ancient pinball machines, one is likely to be struck with an astonishing sense of rapture. Just like falling down the rabbit hole, stepping into this enigmatic House of Games almost seems like entering another world filled with curious amusements – Egghead, Trade Winds, Magic City, Cover Girl, Gottlieb’s Two-Player Surfside, Gottlieb’s Four-Player Masquerade, Rotospin and dozens more, glittering with midcentury light, ringing and echoing caustically about every win and loss, haunted by fun until they a

A Thief Sleeps on the Couch Downstairs

This fear seems awful silly now, this acid belly flood when Dan the piano man says how he found your money blood We talked and talked like fans of Bird so many weeks ago of antics Dan had played absurd it was not just a show Some creeps on this side of the night are not so very bad but when he followed her with fright they knew they had been had

Eager Visions

“In the land of Janaki, there exists a tall cylindrical edifice covered in alabaster that serves as both a tomb and a monastery for fertile academic minds. First built in the decades following the ill-fated Keshite invasion, it did not become a tomb until centuries later. The insectivorious King Grimmage III committed his life to quiet study in the building and when he died he left strict instructions to be buried in the structure that was from that day forth to be known as Grimmage Tower. “Grimmage Tower developed a reputation as the most prestigious refuge for those citizens of Janaki blessed with enormous gifts of scientific, analytic, artistic or literary character. To be invited to Grimmage Tower is a great honor, and many of Janaki’s brightest lights spend years working in its catacomb cells before eventually being buried in its mausoleum. The admission of an individual working in a field heretofore unrepresented inside Grimmage signals a new respectability for that endeavor, a

Invective Incitement

Robots and Monsters huddle around the embers of our campfire fiends gnashing their teeth in your unimagined paradise with the Red Army here and the Blue Army there a tremendous wiggle loosed on the lot Guillermo Credenza that most magical bishop yields before the developing world of business disasters wishing most earnestly to be described as ursine How to react to these foreseen machinations? drink my laughs you old plate of soup before we prepare for murders Monsters must burn Robots must burst When Credenza sings "The Maltese Jew" at Christmastime Sweet Jumpin' Christmas Time! Oh how we feel ready to carry out his dark designs

The Great Rock Hunt Tour Adventure

An abridged version of this article I wrote just short of a year ago was originally published in the zine Connect the Dots. The online supplement to Connect the Dots can be found here. When my editor called with an assignment about a rumor she had heard in Solano about some Ohlone shaman who had apparently carved mystical Kuksu inscriptions on five great rocks in the hundreds of years prior to white settlement in what is now North Berkeley, I was intrigued. Knowing the Ohlone – famous for their giant shell mounds as well as their skill at dancing on the rim of the world – I was certain I had a killer story on my hands. So certain that I briefly considered hiring a semiotician to assist me in decrypting the strange Ohlone symbols before abandoning the idea because I did not want to go overbudget on my very first assignment for the publication. My editor directed me towards the Friends of Five Creeks, who have uncovered some of the history of Berkeley’s major rock parks as part their

Dripping Noise (From Your Damn Mouth)

The sounds you create anywhere are repeated every minute of every day & if I can hear the hands of the clock then I will ignore those sounds you pro-duce at dawn and dusk because too much else is gaining and losing my attention thus I have none left for you except a thank you a God Bless You but he say you didn't believe in those old tales only the new stories that you tell Strings lonely with doubt out of the past crying dangerously for more of those hit pops off the record left to you by that wicked corpse you call a father.

GUEST POST: A Mostly Speculative and Acerbic Look at the Fall 2011 Pilot Season

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by Ben BenAry I do not have cable, though I am a fan of television. My favorite current shows are Louie , Breaking Bad, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Parks and Recreation, and Mad Men . Though I have not seen, nor plan on seeing most of these new shows, I feel compelled to predict their potential as hits. Only time will tell how accurate I can be without having to subject myself to this dreck. NBC: Playboy Club - I'm anticipating strong initial ratings because of the lure of the Playboy brand, which will dissipate at the same rapid rate as viewers' hopes of seeing some nips. Also there's only so much room for Mad Men imitations, and that spot belongs to Pan Am. Cancelled after one season. Prime Suspect - Will Maria Bello's indie film street cred translate to TV star power? Maybe, but with police procedurals already accounting for half of all scripted television, this one about a lady detective in New York City isn't likely to stand out. She doesn't eve

Fans Away the Native Fumes

Happy onlor day! I just landed I’ll be home by auntie’s hour Was in the future, now I have been both told and advised to take it easy I will kill you with my eyes Interactive rudix studio murderer It’s not on the open market yet Lodge Embles put in a bid for almost three billion dollars for the unfinished prototype Ha ha ha he go east Ah aimsol ha ahash laps cha ha ha ha ha The brain is a machine and people forget that

The Undulating Earth

The two minute hate the three hour fear four instants of absolute nonsense followed by... an eternity of the itchiest frustration an internal itch impossible to scratch subsides and the three second orgasm comes next, in me, in me fades away for there is the lifelong nostalgia to worry about only two shakes of lamb's tail before "The Five Day Effective Efficiency Plan" effuses about "The Three Week Weight Loss Drug Bender" Though neither can compare to The Eight Moments He Felt Lonesome Directed by Howard Hawks or was it John Ford, I can't remember for more than a few months at a time The seven eon hoax The nine century farce The six millenia of abject terror The one searing white hot ball of anger praying for nuclear holocaust

The Diaries of Nicholson Cage

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Friday, September 24th – Only thing worth mentioning: spent longer than needed chopping vegetables Saturday, September 25th – Spent a good portion of the day replacing light bulbs Tuesday, September 28th – Can’t stand that lady at the drug store. Why is that lady always in there? Also, not going to forget to do this, no matter what they say. Thursday, September 30th – When the light wouldn’t turn off after flicking the switch, became convinced that it was all a dream. But it wasn’t. Monday, October 11th – Spent the entire weekend trying to learn how to make Tofu taste good Tuesday, October 12th – Remembered uncle in Thailand is still in a coma. Sent him a postcard. Thursday, October 14th – I have decided to start using more pronouns. Clarity is important. And consistency. Sunday, October 17th – My landlord burst in today with some mishegas about the property rental people and how they needed keys to unlock the door for a showing or some damn thing and how he had

Hooligan Circus Political Technique

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When Tommy Fitzgerald offered to buy me a drink for the 21st birthday I had several months ago, I did not know what to think. “Your 21st birthday should last all year, am I right?” he said with an enthusiasm bordering on spooky self-regard. Some friends had warned me that Tommy was a fat, two-faced liar. From what I had heard, he was a schemer of schemes and not to be trusted. But in my admittedly limited interactions with Tommy, I had found him fairly forthright and even amusing to be around. As he explained to me how to rent a car before turning 25, I thought I would let him buy me a drink after I finished my second beer of the evening. How often do you get to hang out in a cool Ethiopian restaurant-bar with a group of friends you see none too frequently? Sipping my Whiskey Sour as the somewhat slapdash and informal program started, I thought to ask Tommy about whether he would be voting for Maggie in a couple of weeks as I planned to do. I actually can’t remember if I thought abou

Customer Review: HP7-P2

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I watched HP7-P2  a couple months ago and can't begin to tell you all how pleased I was with this wonderful product. It really does live up to its billing. And everything it does is so intuitive. The evil wizard Voldemort is a joy to watch and all of the product's many special effects function flawlessly. Helen Bonham Carter is fabulous and it never gets jammed or feeds more than one piece of paper at a time. I had occasion to give Hermione a real "trial by fire." The unit does not come with a manual explaining who all the characters are and what they are doing (that sucks). But it's on the provided CD. I like a paper copy of an operating manual so I printed out all 212 pages Hermioned in "Horcrux" quality. I was expecting the print quality to be so-so at best for this setting but was amazed at how good it looked. And the Hermione worked flawlessly, printing out all 212 pages on 106 pages of paper. Now for a couple of nitpick negatives. The movie prod

Anothering

Father Malkin is neither Filipino nor a bay laurel, but is actually the hated visitor to the local school. When he comes around, all the teachers sit in their desks and can only remember what they’re supposed to be doing. Their leisure is eaten away without even a clear idea of what the time is. That is disruptive. "     " is why the father is not the son. "     " is why the father connects with the jewel and the spike. The father always uses the tools at his disposal He likes a bigger screen to keep all our seaweed He likes two loves at once. He likes the fun of contradiction. He likes to make sure he’s alive. He hates oxygen but loves air. He jumps for joy whenever a snake bites the children. But he always protects the boys down the street from their parents’ unwilling unrewarding unaccepting This is the true nature of protection. When you can make choices that limit what others seek to put forward as rules before you, there is enough protec

"Making Movie History"

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River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West by Rebecca Solnit My rating: 5 of 5 stars Solnit is a remarkable prose stylist, and her examination of the brave new world of abstractions and representations born in California's violent industrializing Gilded Age past works marvelously. I will even defend her occasionally tendency to wind off into tangled thickets of near schizoid conspiracism about the connections between the various phenomena she investigates with the careful eye of a social historian. Sometimes wild theorizing about the bigger picture is exactly what the doctor ordered.

The Ghosts of Electricity

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don't open e-mail from me about "beach photos"- it's "phishing" X Inbox X Reply from Barrie Thorne  [email address redacted]      to Mary Hatfield Henderson et al   [email address redacted] date Mon, Jun 27, 2011 at 6:58 PM subject don't open e-mail from me about "beach photos"- it's "phishing" signed-by gmail.com Important mainly because it was sent directly to you. hide details   6:58 PM (20 hours ago) Dear folks on my gmail "contacts"list, Alas, I have somehow been hacked. If you get an email from me asking you to see some photos from the beach, DELETE IT.  If more mayhem occurs, I'll take appropriate action.  My apologies, Barrie -- Barrie Thorne Professor  of Gender & Women's Studies and  Professor of Sociology University of California, Berkeley

Selections from "Thai Travels" No. 4

"...I experienced a series of highly visceral hallucinations. I felt as if I flew high above the jungle upside down. The trees, the banana palms, the noisy yet euphonic hum of insects, the replicative green - everywhere green - whirled around me with dizzying splendor...Jiminy Cricket served as our guide. He taught us the ways and protected us from the gravest dangers we may have encountered. Undoubtedly my view of the jungle has been permanently altered by meeting it under such tumultuous circumstances... "I had already seen the muddy river below my dangling feet. But now we got deep in the muck. Our captain fancied that he was a Jack Sparrow, he heard voices, he talked to himself and he led us down the current feet first. I was prepared to dunk my head in the drink, I was ready to drown. "The day had not yet ended and my venturesome delusions now took shape as avatars - tigers first, and then ultimately elephants. I feel no shame admitting that I am terrified of anyo

Selections from "Thai Travels" No. 3

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All photo credit to my sister, Katherine Bruens : hey, look, that's me with a tiger

Selections from "Thai Travels" No. 2

"...the [Chao Phraya] river bisects the city and feeds the many canals that cut through neighborhoods like so many veins and arteries...after getting on a long tail boat...[w]e sped down the river taking in views of the city. It's a truly splendorous way to travel. "Our first stop was Wat Arun. An ornate Buddhist temple stippled by statues of cows and Gods from the Hindu pantheon, Wat Arun dares one to tumble down its pyramidal step formations. Near the end of our explorations of the vertiginous structure, I glimpsed a Buddhist monk working as a clerk behind the counter of the Wat Arun gift shop. This image inhabited me with a bemused sense of sweaty irony. I find it fatuously unsettling how easily Buddhism has taken to the highly commercial culture of modernity. "The long tail boat than took us into a labyrinthine latticework of canals innervating Thai neighborhoods that alternate seemingly at random between wooden shantytowns and opulent villas...we stopped at a

Selections from "Thai Travels" No. 1

"My uncle lives on the outskirts of Bangkok. I slept the hot, humid night away without a blanket. When I woke up, I went outside into the morning drizzle. While I observed the orchids, the drizzle turned into a downpour. I sat on the covered porch to watch the hard rain drench the tropical plants. A few peals of thunder anointed the day... "A shirtless Thai man ran down the street in the rain. He got into a van and revved the engine for several minutes. The sound of gunshot echoed through the neighborhood. The van had backfired. Just then, the rain stopped, as suddenly as it started."

Masters of the Compendium

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On February 17, 1998, the acclaimed filmmaker Cesario Flores was asked by a critic to name his favorite movie. He answered by naming We Won’t Go Home Again , a book divided into a series of photo essays followed by some tense journalistic prose of obvious relation, which seemed to at first confound and then infuriate the critic. “Every movie I make is about a lesbian relationship between a young girl and a woman in late middle age,” Flores added as a somewhat generous explanation. The critic, Christopher Dennett, responded by letting the interview devolve into an argument. Dennett had become known for championing a very controversial French zombie film. Seeing how he could profit by trading in provocation, he later wrote “A Review of a Film That Doesn’t Exist” which earned him at first a letter of rejection but later further notoriety. With that in mind, Dennett decided to needle Flores about his constant conflicts with producers over their requests that he stick to a script rather j

The Mind of Alexandra Anixter

“The ignorant man works for his own gain, the wise man acts prolifically for obvious reasons, and the wise woman behaves above all as a seer. She sees the ignorant man’s work for what it really means and the wise man’s actions for what they represent to the world. She has constant doubts, as do her sisters, but the doubts are merely a mad distraction implanted by the twisted arts of work and action. Knowledge from sight remains with the woman while man’s feeble attempts at escaping inner despair fall away with every iteration. ” Alexandra Anixter wrote the above paragraph in the first edition of The Book of Life . The very same people who had once embraced her researches chose to ostracize, persecute, and attack her for what she had written in a radical departure from her previous work. She engaged in heated debates with academicians of every field of inquiry in lecture halls and labs; at conferences that went out over networks; on elevators; in coffeeshops; within the shadows cast b

: Power Police : Merry Musicians :

The whole police department was up in arms when orchestra entered They didn’t know which weapons were instruments or which genders were ready to be blasted So they lit themselves on fire. But the building couldn’t burn. It had been covered in plasticine material /usually reserved for old-stile aeroplanes that are protecting rational thinking stage actors from getting in ,too much trouble, when they make mistakes in front of the conductor. He screams and he screams and he doesn’t use words because it would be confusing and pointless. That is the nature of the police exercise. They want to marry musicians and be felt around the world not those who share power among the best of us. Power isn’t publicly traded. /that is why the orchestra has a problem. Each musician has an instrument that has a cat or a bird inside But the birds are ostriches /they are not the best of us. But I most certainly am. Don’t ever forget when you’re ready. Don’t ever forget it.

Ritual and Retrogression

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Timothy Corbin had been diagnosed with von Donnersmack’s syndrome, a psychological condition that prevented him from continuously internalizing his own age. Named after Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Donnersmack, the 19th century German chemist who first theorized its existence after observing the behavior of a student, it had developed in Timothy only very recently. One day, Timothy would be able to study as he normally had in the past. But the next day he would apply for Social Security benefits, thinking he would qualify as a retiree. And the day after that he would be at a playground riding the Merry-go-round without the cares of maturation and adulthood entering his mind at all. Timothy’s unpredictable behavior quickly became a concern to his friends and family. His roommate, Chad Schmidt, had first noticed when Timothy began to watch PBS Newshour and Nickelodeon alternately with alarming frequency. Chad and Timothy had always shared a certain imaginative curiosity, but Cha

You Don’t Need the Boss, the Boss Needs You

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On Monday, I stood in the rain on the steps of the state capitol in Sacramento with thousands of students and workers to protest further deep cuts to California’s beleaguered public infrastructure. Last Saturday, over 85,000 people marched in Madison, Wisconsin in support of the basic rights of workers to collectively bargain. What these actions have in common, aside from being largely ignored by corporate media outlets, is a renewed commitment to resisting the relentless assault on the American middle class exemplified by Governor Scott Walker’s phantom anti-worker agenda in Wisconsin and the persistent lack of democracy in California. In last fall’s elections, Scott Walker did not campaign on stripping the rights of workers to organize and bargain collectively. Yet that has become the non-negotiable central goal of his brief tenure in office. Similarly, the progressives who swept every statewide office in California while continuing to hold commanding majorities in both chambers