Behind the Curve
Monday, June 28, 2004
Sleepless in NYC
Too much grape soda yesterday while watching the MST of "Wild Riders" with M. Couldn't sleep until 5am what with the sugar high. But, O, I love grape soda.
But going jogging on Saturday helped a little. I'm not quite as fat as I was on Thursday. Ran to the train station today as it wasn't too hot. Need a haircut. Can't afford one, really. Can I cut my own hair?
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Conversations from ago
I remember Laura saying that soy sauce was Asian for "ketchup."
It's amazing how school politics can get so lots of people you kind of like actually hate each other. Why does it give some girls so much glee when a guy doesn't like another girl?
Hmm. I would like very much to buy a new shirt or two for summer, but can't really afford it. Need a new job that pays better. Sadly, I lack any actual skills.
Monday, June 21, 2004
too much caffeine, and still I want to sleep
Watched "‘Salem’s Lot" (the remake) 2.5 times yesterday night, as I was too dizzy and ill to get up or even change the channel with the remote for most of the early evening. Rob Lowe plays a Pultizer-prize winning author, but I noted that he has trouble pronouncing "irrevocable." It’s very hard believing him as a smart person, even though I have seen him on "The West Wing." The poor man’s features are just too delicate.
Finished reading Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister. I actually liked it better than Wicked. No "magic," but interesting perceptions about history and folklore and economics. Kind of serious. Kind of wistful.
Today, I don’t feel like taking 2 martial arts classes and then running 3 miles on a treadmill. And yet I know that’s what has to happen.
I don’t know if I want to teach TaeKwon-Do to children. I resent being put on the kids-teaching schedule, even though of course I have an obligation to do what I’m told and to train as hard as I possibly can to change my fundamental nature. To pray for a cleaner heart and a better personality as fervently as I pray to be thinner and prettier. Too bad I’m an atheist. The only way out now would be, possibly, to move to California, or else kill myself.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Or the ghost of a witch...
Salem...
Hallucinogenic fungus – ergot - Claviceps purpurea – in rye grain? (Ergot is the precursor to LSD.)
Prior to development of the sclerotia bodies, the fungus develops a stage in the open floret called "honey dew." The "honey dew" consists of sticky, yellowish, sugary excretion of the fungus which form droplets on the infected flower parts.
"Honeysuckle/She’s full of poison/She obliterated everything she kissed" – Hole, "Celebrity Skin"
Convulsive ergotism :"A convulsive disorder characterized by violent muscle spasms, vomiting, delusions, hallucinations, crawling sensations on the skin" (Source: pbs.org)
Victims were sometimes hanged, or burned at the stake.
Gangrenous ergotism: In extreme cases, victims would feel unbearable burning sensations in the limbs, the limbs would then become gangrenous and the affected tissue would slough.
They call the affliction Holy Fire, Hell’s Fire, or Saint Anthony’s Fire.
Saint Anthony of Padua is the patron saint of (among other things) lost articles, amputees, and pregnant women. (Source: http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/)
Midwives used ergot to increase the speed and intensity of muscle contractions during prolonged labor.
Hallucinogenic drugs on broom handle applied vaginally may have induced sensations of weightlessness or flying.
Dulcinea and her ponies.
"Did you bring your broomstick with you?"
Epilepsy causes beatific visions, seizures giving rise to auras (sights, sounds, and smells) along with the convulsing of the limbs. Suspected epileptics include St. Paul (formerly Saul) and Vincent Van Gogh.
Saint Paul the Apostle is the patron saint of (among other things) authors, hailstorms, and tent makers (he was one). He is against snakes and for Las Vegas, Nevada. (Source: http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/)
Religious ecstasy and demonic possession reveal themselves through similar mechanisms.
"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"
Remember this
Camping, and a ghost story. Squeak.
I am a scientist, or used to be, so I don't believe in ghosts. Neither does Jin. Kevin is not so sure, because he wants his life to be interesting. He should know the old Chinese curse about that.
Remember how in "Nightmare on Elm Street 3," Sr. Mary Helena/Freddy's mother tells Dr. Gordon that his choice of science as a faith is "sad" and may be the cause of his death? I felt like she was talking to me. Not good.
I'm scared that NYC will be blown off the face of the Earth sometime during the Replublican National convention. I know security will be tighter than ever, and no doubt that LA is a more deserving target, but still...
I don't want to die. There is nothing to do about this but live my life. I won't have too many regrets.
Let me laugh about this in September.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Monkey see...
Well, I finally finished writing the story about the monkey, vegetarian ninja, and some guy named Kevin. Also, someone very like Vassar's Fuzzy Dan makes a cameo appearance. Hmm... I wonder where Fuzzy Dan is now? Wandering the road less taken with nothing but a walkman and a dream?
It's the most cheerful thing I've ever written. Nobody dies, even though plenty of lethal weapons are thrown about. It's... you know. For kids.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Argh
Lived through the full-day TaeKwon-do seminar on Saturday. Good reinforcement on the blocking placement depemdent on the inner versus outer forearm. Good reminder about the fixed versus the L-stance in Won Hyo.
I lack fire and inspiration, but it could have been worse.
It's sweet
isn't it, when you're in a bar and someone you know calls a mutual acquaintance an "empty-headed airhead," when you're quite sure the person in question would say the same thing about her.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Diet, shmiet
Wow, I so want a brownie right now. Or a piece of chocolate cake.
I've incorporated the 2nd character's POV into the monkey story, which I am tentatively titling "Tea and Monkeys." This will eventually be changed, as there is no actual tea. I might also add the POV of Steve the Ninja, but the jury's still out on that one.
Must remember to chamber the knee before I kick. Basics, basics, basics.
Monday, June 07, 2004
Ninja monkeys from outer space
Never let it be said that ninja aren’t good cooks. Ninja are excellent cooks. Afraid for my life as I was, I still managed to eat a whole plate of tangy jalapeño slices with cheese and an assortment of savory doughy things. Meanwhile, Steve showed off some of his pepper-slicing sword tricks for my amusement.
"And the best part is," he was saying, "The bite-sized, easily concealable nature of the mini-appetizer. It’s perfect for the on-the-go ninja in hiding who always needs a free hand for his blade. Who doesn’t want to leave crumbs as evidence, and can’t be heard making crunching noises while on the job. In fact, the only downside to the operation is-"
"Hello, Steve," interrupted a mild-sounding voice, "I see you’ve made a new friend. Won’t you introduce us?"
"Master!" cried Steve, and flung himself, face first, onto the ground.
I gaped.
To be sure, this new arrival was not what I was expecting of a ninja master.
For one thing, he was not dressed all in black. I could accept this. In the movies, the ninja master sometimes wears an extravagant satin bathrobe with a dragon embroidered on it, or a rising sun, or a tree, or some combination of all these things. But he rarely wears a T-shirt with a cartoon pig. And he never has a pair of headphones poking out of his jeans pocket. His sneakers are not blue and ratty looking.
But this was the case with the ninja master I suddenly found myself facing. Moreover, his yellow, fuzzy hair stood inches from around his head in thick helmet of curls, and he wore no mask. He was young, maybe about twenty.
Steve bounced back to his feet.
"Master!" he said, "I would like to introduce Kevin Dembling. He came to our lair by the secret path, and was led here…by the monkey himself!"
The master shook my hand. He wasn’t particularly scary. In fact, he looked just like one of the college students that are always hanging around the comic store where Jin and I buy books.
"Neat," he said. His voice was mellow and friendly. "It’s nice to meet you, little dude. Always glad to meet another friend of ol’ Tim."
I knew the monkey looked like a Tim!
"I followed him here, but I lost him somewhere along the way," I said apologetically.
"Oh, don’t worry about that," said the ninja master, "Tim is a free spirit, even among the monkeys, who are the freest of the free. He goes where he wants, when he wants. When he wants to come back, he’ll come back. If only we could all be so lucky. The only thing we can do now is wait." He gazed wistfully into the distance.
"Er. Yeah."
This guy was nice, but a little vague for my taste. Besides, it was getting late, and I needed to get back home. Also, I had to call Jin, who, after she was done yelling at me for ditching her without warning, would be so jealous when she heard that I had spoken (and shared appetizers!) with a real, live cabal of ninja.
"Well, thanks for the food, Steve, and, uh, your Ninja Masterness," I said, standing up and wiping my hands on my pants. "But I’ve really got to get going. My parents are going to start to worry, and-"
"Going?" said the ninja master. "You can’t be going yet, not for seven or eight years, at least. That’s how long it will take you to stay with us and train in the ways of the brotherhood!"
"What?!" I squeaked.
"Oh, don’t worry, little dude," said the ninja master, scratching his fuzzy yellow head. "It’ll be fun."
On the other hand…
Q. gives me flack about Asian girls not dating Asian men. And I suppose it’s true. Both my roommates, Asian, seem to find perfectly normal Asian men A) annoying, B) uncute, or C) "too much like my brother." If none of these apply, it’s safe to say that D) "I’m just not attracted to him."
No doubt I’m guilty of this too, this whole lack of chemistry thing. It may be blatantly racist, but it may be just an individual thing, and one-on-one, we really just don’t click.
Maybe if I could afford the Prozac, I’d be better able to fake it.
Oddly enough...
I had no human contact over the weekend. None. Zip. Zilch. Both roommates were out of the apartment, leaving me alone to read Dave Eggers' meta-memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, which was, in fact, quite sad and very clever.
It appears that the 3rd Harry Potter movie was directed by a critically acclaimed Mexican director (Alfonso Cuarón of Y Tu Mama Tambien fame). My coworker Taylor, the-Korean-kid-from-Long-Island-who-went-to-film-school-and-is-now-a-video-director-during-his-off-hours, says that he would like to be a Mexican director one day, because Mexican directors are HOT.
As an Irish-American, who am I to oppress his budding dreams?
You know it's a happening party when...
Scary moment: I was attending a birthday party at a bar when the place was suddenly swarmed with cops (at least 10 of them) for a "routine inspection."
No one was shot.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
I'd like to rap the world a rap
Downloaded the new Beastie Boys single "Ch-Check It Out" from the Apple music store. I’m starting to have as many Beastie Boys tunes on my iPod as I have Tori Amos whiny female-folk-rock-angst-ballads. Although Tori did cover an Eminem song on "Strange Little Girls," so I’m sure she’s approve of my hip-hop collection.
God, I’m so white.*
* Or Asian.**
** Or something.
Back to the drawing board
According to MY MOTHER (my source for news of all that is hip and happening), Marvel comics is joining forces with Scholastic to publish a line of young adult PROSE novels. Yes, you heard that right: text-heavy, image-light tomes of words.
I wonder who was in that meeting?
"Well, boss, huge documents made of words have kind of a grassroots, underdog kind of appeal. And Harry Potter sold pretty well…"
Says the president of Marvel Comics, "It's really about the quality of the fiction."
Yeees… I can see it all now. BOOKS are the next new thing, like those cell phones with walkie talkie capabilities. Mainstream comics have to adhere to strict content guidelines because they're sold on Wal-Mart magazine racks. Because of this, they are uniformly bland and unexciting. Video games are visually much more compelling. This leaves BOOKS as the last, best hope for complex storytelling and character development.
I swear, they’re making a comeback.
Another plus: words can so easily be made into e-books that you can download into your PDA, iPod, or other techno-toy. For all you on-the-go technophiles living in a sleeper tube who don't have the space to store paperbacks. Try reading the latest issue of Ultimate X-Men off your iPod. I challenge you.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
The miseducation of me
I read somewhere that the screenplay for Spider-Man 2 was written by Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Michael Chabon. I’m not quite sure what to make of this. Remember the God-awful dialogue of the first Spider-Man movie? ("Sometimes, I’m scared, but sometimes I’m happy, and sometimes I shoot webs from my hands…") To be sure, I could figure out some justification having to do with story trajectory, economy of language, dynamic imagery, and the immense cultural impact of comic books. But I won’t. Well, "Write what you love," they say.
I remember reading the short story "After I was Thrown in the River and Before I Drowned" by Dave Eggers. I’ve never read his novels, but the short story stays with me. A dead dog recounts his last moments, and then some. By the end of the story, he has seen God, who is the sun. (Of course! How simple! And all is right with the world.) It was reassuring, if wistful.
Not being a dog, I can’t bring myself to worship the sun. And yet I wish I could.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Marmoset!
"Well…yeah," I said, kind of lamely. "I didn’t know he belonged to you guys! He looked kind of hungry, so I fed him some chips, and he followed me home."
"A likely story!" said one of the ninja. "I think you kidnapped him!"
"No!" I was starting to sweat. "He’s my friend! He was having a good time with me! He painted a really great, uh, impressionist abstraction…"
The ninja leader relaxed his iron grip on my shirt.
"Why should we believe this kid?" piped a ninja from the back of the pack. "He could just be making this up!"
"Silence!" said the ninja leader. "The Many-Handed One is a famed patron of the arts, and he loves to finger paint. Strange as this young man’s story may seem, he can only be telling the truth. And his face bears the purple markings of royalty."
He released me. I rubbed my face. More paint. I was about to explain, but the ninja leader bowed low.
"My name is Steve," he said.
"Er. Kevin. Kevin Dembling." I bowed in return, hoping it was low enough.
There was an awkward pause as the other ninja shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Steve cleared his throat. "It’s been a long time since an outsider has entered our domain. And it is unheard of that the monkey has allowed himself to be seen by one who is not of the brotherhood."
"I see." I didn’t.
"We’ll have to wait for the Master to return so we can sort this out. In the meantime, would you care for a cheese puff while you wait? Miniature quiche?"
Eat my...uh...cooking! (Oh man. That just wasn't cool.)
I'm closing in on a good curry recipe, I think. Used yogurt and lowfat buttermilk as a sauce base. (Yes! Finally another use for buttermilk!) I doubled the spice mixture and added raisins and almond slices. Yummy. Also baked orange-cranberry-blueberry muffins. Hopefully, I can keep this up and not spend so much on take-out. Mmm...take-out...
Oh, the Green Mountain Organic Viennese Cinnamon flavored coffee is so good.
I eat far too much food.
Finished reading Eastern Standard Tribe (is being happy better than being smart? and other questions to ask your local guru), and Bloodsucking Fiends (eh.), and started Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister (good so far).
