http://web.archive.org/web/20050507140206/e-sheep.com/main.shtml

Read all these comics! They are amazing.

This guy is who I wish I could argue like. :)

So I've been playing a lot of WoW lately, on RP servers, where the majority of time is spent storytelling or acting out your character instead of regular game stuff.

I've met a bunch of new good internet people this way.
I've also met a guy, lets call him Frank. And he plays a character, lets call that character MagicFrank.

He seems like an OK guy, and we make friends, and interact in character and by talking on AIM. He seems no stranger than your average internet kid. Our characters get into a awkward half-romance. I say I don't find romantic stories very interesting. He says then we can avoid it -- but posts a story from MagicFrank's point of view taking the 'breakup' as intensely painful and life-shattering. It is inconsistent for my character to let that sort of thing stand, and I feel a bit manipulated into the storyline, but it's made more interesting because now she's motivated by complex reasons and is a bit conflicted. I write my character (Call her Magic Silent_Claws) to act in what could be construed as a romantic way towards MagicFrank... blah blah storyplot. Frank seems uncomfortable playing out what amounts to a bad relationship for bad reasons. I worry that it's because he wants a "nice" romance to vicariously enjoy -- I am not comfortable with that, dating a real person in the real world and all.

On another simultaneous road... I try pretty hard to give awkward people the benefit of the doubt and also try to point out to awkward people when they're unintentionally doing something wrong/alienating people. Frank, on an internet forum, consistently comes off as superior, condescending, bigoted, and attention-seeking. I don't usually bring this up -- especially not to him because I like to keep the peace, and he is at base a decent kid without many friends, and I tend to act bigsisterly to that sort of person.

But, this shit is piling up and my patience is withering. And other friends of mine are on much shorter fuses and getting annoyed. I wind up calling him out on some really bad behavior, but he doesn't seem to realize that it's not just this one thing, it's a whole pattern of how he's been acting.

He IMs me, starting out with a big dramatic "GOODBYE TO OUR FRIENDSHIP" sort of opener. Then complaining about how distraught he was over getting called out (by another person -- call her H)I don't take his side. He winds up begging me to not abandon our friendship. He is getting really annoying. I block him on AIM.

He sends me an email! Which starts out AGAIN, with a big dramatic "GOODBYE TO OUR FRIENDSHIP". I post it here as a warning about the crazy that exists on the internet. (Bold as in the original, italics are my commentary) ( under here )

So that's what I've been doing.
How are all of you?

*Spring-cleaned*

New entries to come.

"You don't care about us!" the blue unicorn pony shouts, rearing on his hind hoofs on the counter, "You're just looking out for your own best interests!" The fist-sized spider clicks his claws as his comrades creep closer. "Oh, no," he replies in a sinister voice, "Since we bought controlling stock in Hasbro, spider interests are pony interests."

(Actual dialogue from tonight's dream)

I might write this one up as a short story, it begins with research in Australia, where gravity is 1/3 of normal, but only when falling out of trees. It continues with the UTTERLY HORRIBLE image of legions of spiders taking over my kitchen. with the goal of enslaving my My Little Ponies, which fight back valiantly in a cartoon heros sort of way, but are doomed.

WTF.

Another play! This one was in the past, and I was watching like it was a Pensieve memory, from the audience. My father had put it on for one of my birthdays, and I (Alternate-Universe sci-fi noblilty younger me, backstage) played a minor character. Some character actors I know from tv/movies were involved, but no significance, I think they're just in my mental file for "actor" and "people whose face/voices I know". The play was end-of-ancient ancient rome, again, and it was staged in the anti-round. That is, the audience sat in the middle, on the floor or on benches, and the action went on in a donut around them. I think I remember something at Disneyland like that. Anyway, the arena was huge, with white walls at least 2 stories high, the floor was covered in sawdust and there were whole companies of cavalry running around. It was something like a whatchamacallit, a murder-mystery-weekend thing, cos I know my character (the one my past-self was playing) had to make some sort of escape, and whether or not she/I actually escaped determined the course of the action. The costumes were made out of felting wool. Like, the expensive posh hand-dyed stuff you find at knitting shops. (wtf?) Cody on my right was telling me that a character walking past, a man called Pindar, was obviously good, because of the color/style of his costume. It was in earth colors. "See, there are gaps in his helmet." (which was constructed suspiciously like a variant on my wire baskets) She points him out. comparing it to another character's dark black and Stormtrooper-mass-produced-looking helmet. He hears this, and takes off his helmet. He has a face like Edward Norton on high contrast. "No, no good. I'm a gravedigger. I dig graves, I cut necks, I dig graves in the dark." was his reply. All of a sudden he was the only one in the room besides the audience and he seemed to be about to Emcee or give some important information. "Are you thin or are we fat?" Asks my friend Jodie on my left. "That's a good question," he pauses, "Let me reveal to you how stupid I am." But the question makes no sense, the actors are all in bulky costumes, if there is any size differential... I wake up.

>.>

Also I remember the imaginary version of the Milwaukee Museum mixed with the Milwaukee Zoo. (This was probably from a different rem cycle) It's quite nifty. Very pretty exhibits. There's this very dark tall hallway with sort of ridged half-cylinders on which hang round false-colored electron microscope pictures, backlit. They look just like strange modern art, which is the whole point. The philosophy of the museum seems to be that the whole world is pretty. Everything is very high up. The stuffed-exotic-animals wing fades right into the Zoological gardens... Heh. The complex is huge, there are helpful guides on golf carts to take you where you need to go but golf carts go only in restricted areas, since the place is designed for some sort of aesthetic experience/enlightenment.

anyway. Pictures would be more descriptive. I'll try. :)

For a taste of something like what I'm listening to at the moment, here's a mix of music I rather liked but can't dance to -- I was compiling a mix of dance songs for a few folks to dance to in lieu of the more conservative exercise bikes. :P

UNdanceable
Sparklehorse - its a wonderful life
Jeremy Enigk - Don't go Racing
pink martini - sympathique
paris combo - dans les bras d'un loup
zap mama - iko iko
manu chao - desaparecido
kenna - vexed and glorious
in-grid - in-tango
dune - starchild
beulah - a good man is easy to kill
bessie smith - me and my gin
basement jaxx - yo yo
badly drawn boy - once around the block
architecture in helsinki - city calm down

I just had a dream that I staged a lost Shakespeare play, and most of the actors were little kids, family or "doofy mentor" figures from my childhood (i.e. assistant soccer coaches etc) so I was astonished it was going so well. It was a succession drama, set in sort of post-Barbarian Rome, involving at least one vampire. Cody cross-played a old friend/retainer of the king called Tullus Crucius. I was in an owl costume. I remember vividly being astonished by the quality of the lo-fi stage effects, both since I was in charge of them (yet I was watching from the first row of the balcony) and because my cast by all rights should be screwing things up. At one point in the first act (all I could watch before I woke up) the son of the king gets stabbed in a pool (he would later become reanimated by the devil) the blood and water effects went on with a strong white light and pieces of acrylic rope. I wish the awesomeness wasn't merely due to dream logic. Actually it was at that point that I realized I was dreaming, and the beginning of the next act, with the arrival of Crucius, happend as I floated awake.

I wish I could remember more, cos the dialogue was very good, dramatic, and surprisingly funny. I didn't know my brain could come up with these things.

This is the color of the moon and sky tonight.

De Bernieres, Louis. Birds Without Wings. New York: Vintage Books, 2004.

There's unusually accurate citation information, because I'm posting unusually long long-quotes. Thanks to Scansoft Omnipage Professional in my Uni library, I didn't have to type this all...

I think there's something extra in narrative that gets closer to the heart of things than statistics or clinical descriptive prose. De Bernieres does an amazing job, in my opinion, of writing about people who commit atrocities, and keeping them human. I also think there's a value in seeing everything completely.

Birds Without Wings is set in Turkey before/during the career of Mustafa Kemal, and touches on, among a host of personal tragedies, the Armenian genocide. These images always come up in my mind whenever 'honor killings' are mentioned...

( Rustem finds a man leaving his wife's room, kills the man, and accuses his wife to be stoned. ) pp 92-95

( Yusuf's daughter Bezmialem is pregnant, he forces her brother to shoot her. ) pp 138-141

Now go buy this book. It's excellent, and I'm bending the boundaries of fair use.

In other other news, I like this Hafiz poem (translated by who-knows-who)

The small man
builds cages for everyone
he
knows.
While the sage,
who has to duck his head
when the moon is low,
keeps dropping keys all night long
for the
beautiful
rowdy
prisoners.

also:
What do sad people have in common?

It seems they have all but a shrine
To the past

And often go there
And do a strange wail and
Worship.

What is the beginning of Happiness?

It is to stop being
So Religous
Like that.

also also (last one):

What is the difference
Between your Existence
And that of a Saint?

The Saint knows
That the spiritual path
Is a sublime chess game with God
And that the Beloved
Has just made such a Fantastic Move
That the Saint is now continually
Tripping over joy
And Bursting out in Laughter
And saying, "I Surrender!"

Whereas, my dear,
I am afraid you still think
You have a thousand serious moves.

Ibn Jubayr in Mecca, during the month of Rajab, making fun of folk tales, fake miracles, zealots, and the uneducated.

"On the morning of Saturday the 15th of the month, we carefully examined this measurement and found it to be as it was before. But if anyone had remarked that day that the water had not miraculously risen, he would have been thrown into the well, or been trodden under foot until he dissolved."

"On the day on which the Ka'bah assumed the state of ihram, the wooden dome was removed from its position over the sacred Station of Abraham and replaced with an iron dome in readiness for those foreigners; for if it wre not of iron they would eat it or do worse, such is there rude fervour for His holy shrine."

He is also unusually understanding of the effect of sex-segregation -- on the 29th of the month, before the Ka'bah's ritual cleansing, the day is set aside for women to circumambulate and go in and crowd around it without being worried about getting groped at. The day is a huge deal, but he goes on to say...

"Yet on the whole, in comparison with the men, they are wretched and cheated. They see the venerated House and may not enter it, they gaze upon the blessed Stone but cannot touch it, and their lot is wholly one of staring and feeling the sadness that moves and holds them. They have nothing but the tawaf [circumambulation] at a distance. This day, therefore, which is an annual event, they expect as one expects the most solemn of festivals, and for it they make many provisions and preparations."

Insightful for any era, especially 1183.

"Unless the wine is good, do not place it before your guests; it is a daily experience for men to eat, and in consequence the wine and music should be good, so that if there are any shortcomings ate table or in the dishes provided, they will be covered by the wine and the music. Furthermore, wine-drinking is a transgression; if you wish to commit a transgression it should at least not be a flavourless one.

"I have been told a story relating how Harun al-Rashid dreamt that all his teeth had fallen out of his mouth. In the morning he summoned an interpreter, from whom he demanded an explanation of the dream. The interpreter replied, "May the life of the Commander of the Faithful be long! All thy kinsmen will die before thee, so that after thee none will survive." Harun ordered the interpreter to be beaten a hundred blows, saying to him, "You such-and-such, that is for the cruel way in which you have informed me of this matter. If all my kinsmen die before me, whom shall I have to associate with me?"
He then ordered another interpreter to be brought to whom he related his dream. The second man said, "THe dream which the Commander of the Faithful has dreamt is an indication that Your Majesty's life will be longer than that of any of his kinsmen". Harun remarked, "So far as meaning goes, this is the same thing. This interpretation goes no further than the other, but there is a difference in the way the two things are told." And to this man he gave a hundred dinars.

I have also heard another story, unsuitable for this book -- and yet, "Nothing witty should be wasted".

A man, lying with his page, said to him, "Turn your bottom this way".
The youth replied, "Master, that could be better expressed".
"How should I say it?" asked the master.
"Say, turn your face the other way", replied the page. "The meaning of both phrases is the same, and thus you avoid uttering what is ugly."
To that the man replied, "I agree with your remark and, furthermore, I grant you your freedom".

o__O;

A Tradition of the Prophet... (al-Ghazali)

"God will bring before me, on the Day of Ressurection, some people who will call on me, saying, "O Muhammad, O Muhammad!" Then I will say, "My Lord! They are my companions!" And God will say, "You do not know what they have introduced after you had died." Then I will say to them, "Go away."

Heh. I like dogma when it plays out like "St. Peter at the Pearly Gates" jokes.

"If thou be not content with a summary of evidence, I will set it before you in fullest detail. ... The girl is soft of speech, fair of form, like a branchlet of basil, with teeth like chamomile-petals and hair like halters wherefrom to hang hearts. Her cheeks are like blood-red anemones and her face like a pippin: she hath lips like wine and breasts like pomegranates twain and a shape supple as a rattan -cane. Her body is well-formed and with sloping shoulders dight; she hath a nose like the edge of a sword shining bright and a forhead brilliant white and eyebrows which unite and eyes stained by Nature's hand black as night. If she speak, fresh young pearls are scattered from her mouth forthright and all hearts are ravished by the daintiness of her sprite; when she smileth thou wouldst ween the moon shone out her lips between and when she eyes thee, sword-blades flash from the babes of her eyes. In all her beauties to conclusion come, and she is the center of attraction to traveller and stay-at-home. She hath two lips of cramoisy, than cream smoother and of taste than honey sweeter," ...

And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say. When it was the 422nd night, she said,

"It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the preacher-woman thus pursued her theme in the praise of fair maids, "She hath two lips of craimoisy, than cream smoother and than honey sweeter," adding, "And she hath a bosom, as it were a way two hills between which are a pair of breasts like globes of ivory sheen; likewise, a stomach right smooth, flanks soft as the palm-spathe and creased with folds and dimples which overlap one another, and liberal thighs, which like columns of pearl arise, and back-parts which billow and beat together like seas of glass or mountains of glance, and two feet and hands of gracious mould like unto ingots of virgin gold. So, O miserable! Where are mortal men beside the Jinn? Knowest not that puissant princes and potent Kings before women ever humbly bend and on them for delight depend? Verily they may say, "We rule over necks and rob hearts." These women! How many a rich man have they not paupered, how many a powerful man have they not prostrated, and how many a superior man have they not enslaved!

Oh, about the new LJ name -- It's T.S. Eliot, of course. About halfway through "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", the couplet stands alone:

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas

Which (if you ask me one thing that I learned from Doc Staggenborg's Senior Lit "British Authors" course in high school, this will be it...) is an author self-reference. The poem is a hodgepodge of references to other things, and the author/narrator picks them out and digests them like a literary bottom feeder. The references are fragmented, unexplained, and incomplete, just like the couplet is a fragment, the metaphor is unexplained (but inferrable) and the sea-creature image is incompelete (just the claws...) A whole ourobourous of trivial meanings, circling around on themselves.

But that's how I use this journal anyway. :) Literary quotation! Fragmented streams-of-thought! Incomplete explanations! ...Plus, you could probably drag me out from under my rock with a bit of bologna on a fishook.

(Alex would understand. Bologna-on-a-fishhook is the premier camping-trip crayfish bait. The fishhook is useless, in 'catching' terms, but they grab the soggy meatslice in their claws and are too stubborn to let go.)