A Rake at the Gates of Hell

Dream Journal #45699

Sat, 11 Jul 2009 16:26:35 GMT

miss_postmortem and I were in Europe, on vacation. We had arrived in Spain, from the Mediterranean, and were in a coastal town, learning about the local history. One of the attractions was a Salvador Dali tour. The tour included locations where he had painted and landscapes that had appeared in his paintings as well as one unique feature: the tour guide would inject you with a hormone that would enable you to see reality as Dali saw it by stimulating a specific gland in the brain that was dormant in everyone but Salvador Dali. The injected solution was made from a synthetic hormone that Dali naturally produced when painting.

We took the tour and took the hormone as well. At first nothing happened, but then, like a freight train to the brain, color intensified and everyday objects transformed. The paintbrushes in the display suddenly grew leaves, or the legs of insects. A dog walking by began to grin as it slowly turned into a soft, ripe cheese. Distant mountains and clouds turned into well fed Spanish ladies being screwed from behind by little men in bowler hats. A man took a bite from the shoulder of the woman next to him and she laughed as a tiny Pope emerged from where he had bitten her and began to address the orange ants that emerged from her hair. Everyone on the tour was delighted with the transformation of every day life into a surrealist painting that you could walk through, touch, hear, taste and smell. Inhibitions and social mores fell away as the world around the tour merged with the subconscious mind.

For good or ill, the drug wore off within 30 minutes and life returned to normal, with one lingering effect. Everything seemed a little brighter, a little more intense, and we all felt as if reality as we knew it was only a thin veil, a limited way of seeing and knowing the universe around us.

...and then I woke up.

On attraction

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 20:32:00 GMT

This morning a friend posted a link to an article in an online men's mag that seemed to be targeted to the 20-something hetero urban hipster. As such, it was pretty much a male version of Cosmo, a smattering of celebrities, work and fashion bits, and articles choc-full of suggestions on how to play underhanded little games to manipulate your partner into doing what you want based on rash blanket generalizations mixed with a half ounce of truth so they’re easy to swallow.

The article in question covered 10 ways to get the woman you're dating to do something about her unattractive weight gain. Aside from the utterly dishonest and manipulative techniques, it brought up a single point that had substance; what to do when someone you’re dating changes their appearance and is no longer attractive to you.

In spite of the protests from the "what is on the outside should not matter, it’s the person on the inside that counts" crowd, this is a perfectly valid issue. Attraction is a big part of a relationship; you want a partner who you desire and your partner wants to be desired. And while I acknowledge that our culture overvalues the sleek and slender to the point of sickness and commodifies women and their bodies, what is attractive to you as an individual is perfectly valid.

With that in mind, if your partner makes a radical change in their physical appearance, that can and probably will impact your relationship. If you have a thing for long dark hair, and they decide to go blonde and short, that can affect the dynamic. If you prefer clean shaven and he grows a beard, you might not find him as sexy as you did. The same is true of weight. A jogger who wants to share their love of jogging with their partner and is attracted to a runner’s body will have a problem if their partner should hang up their running shoes and lose that runner’s physique they had when they first got together.

While the article prescribed backhanded, manipulative ways to get your partner to lose weight, mainly by damaging their self esteem, I think that two mature people should be able to talk about something like this openly. In my opinion, it comes down to communication and tact. There is give and take to every relationship. Sometimes the honesty hurts and can make things awkward for a while, but it is important to be able to say what’s really going on. When people grow together it’s a beautiful thing, but people do grow apart, and if your partner’s changing appearance reduces or eliminates your desire, that can damage or even end a relationship. If you can work through it, it might make the bond between you even stronger. If you can't, then it may be better to end things and move on rather than let the lack of physical attraction bring resentment and a long, drawn out and bitter ending.

The perils of online dating

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 20:04:36 GMT

If I was not enough of a walking object lesson in what can happen when you date long distance, this should clear up any doubt.

Courtesy of Fuck you, Penguin.

POGUEMAHONE!

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 17:32:52 GMT

It's the band and with Shane, coming October. So who is in? Any opinions on which venue is better?

Tues October 13: San Francisco, CA Warfield Theatre
Wed October 14: San Francisco, CA Regency Center @ The Grand

Supplements effective on hair pulling and other compulsive behaviors

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 16:46:21 GMT

This is fascinating. Clear evidence that behavior can be modified through nutrition.

http://www.reuters.com/article/healthNews/idUSTRE5655YS20090706

Dream Journal #45698

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 17:16:18 GMT

Happy Vitamin Land had relocated to a shiny new tech center in San Jose. Most of the old, tired, grouchy hippies I have worked with for the past two years had been replaced by upbeat science and nutrition geeks. We now had fancy new computers, equipment and furniture. The new facility was clean and efficient.

But, sadly, the owner was the same and because he fears technology and believes all computers secretly spy on you for an inner government cabal (as well as giving you cancer), he would not come near the new location. So all the computers and equipment were on card-tables, in the plaza in front of the tech center. We all tried to log into the system so we could get some work done, but the owner is also a micro-manager, and this had not changed either, so without him there to supervise and oversee us (and unlock the system), we could not login to any of the computers.

Our shiny new tech managers stood around being annoyed, wondering if the owner was running hours late (as usual), or if he was hiding from the computers. After several hours of sitting around doing nothing, we were let go for the day. We all knew it would be a very long time, maybe even months, until a solution was found that allowed the owner to micromanage without being near the spying, carcinogenic computers.

I wasn’t going to let the time go to waste, so I walked over to a job center and immediately got a job as a roadie for Marilyn Manson’s summer tour. This was a very stripped down tour, just Marilyn, a guitarist, a keyboardist, two dancers who doubled as roadies, and me, working both as roadie and the stage tech. The reason for this was that the venues we were to play were very small; this was to be a tour of convalescent hospitals, senior care facilities and assisted living homes.

The first show went amazingly well from the technical point of view. The fog machines, sets, props, lights, and pyrotechnics all did exactly what they were supposed to do as Marilyn and the dancers crawled all over the place, screamed, howled and gyrated in the faces of the confused senior citizens. I was quite pleased with the quality of all the equipment and how drop dead reliable it was.

After shows, the band hung out in front of local Seven-Elevens. It was there that the dancers, the band and I trolled local kids, offering to introduce them to Manson (who was watching us through the window of the tour bus) in exchange for sex and telling them that our show was so shocking it had killed their grandparents, even though we knew better. Yes, several old folks died during the show, but it wasn’t from shock. They were so senile they didn’t understand any of it, so they died of confusion and boredom. Our shows were literally boring old people to death.

The groupie sex wasn’t going as planned either. Apparently, not many hot young things were into Marilyn Manson anymore, so it took some time to find those that were and when we did I learned that Manson fans don’t have normal sex. They would rip open their navels and somehow turn their guts inside out, so that their partners could screw their vital organs. After watching the guitarist fuck some bored looking young boy in the spleen (shades of Warhol's Frankenstein), and one of the dancers rubbing her cooch on another young boy’s large intestine, I decided I really wasn’t interested in trolling for Manson groupies.

…and that’s when I woke up.

Shifted

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 17:34:43 GMT

Coworker: Did you move this weekend? You must feel like you went ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

Me: Yes, I moved, but since I still have my ear, it’s more like five rounds with Muhammad Ali.

I have the most wonderful friends. Six folks came and helped me shift a 17 foot moving truck and innumerable lose items worth of stuff into my new place, over the twisty, pot-hole stricken mountain roads. Amazingly, all my stuff is in and I actually slept in my bed rather than wrapped in blankets on the floor last night.

I’ve got a lot of work to do before the house is ready for people. The refrigerator, the bathroom and the closet all have serious issues. I think I’ve mentioned the uneven cement floor that makes you feel as if you are at sea when walking across the room. Ants are coming in through the kitchen window. And it would have been smart to email a copy of my packing list and box inventory to my work before breaking down the computer so I could find things in the numbered boxes...

I have yet to give the new place a name. Something should become appropriate or be invented by my birthday, with luck.

So. Moving.

Fri, 26 Jun 2009 23:06:42 GMT

To those of you coming out to lend a hand this weekend. Here’s some helpful info.

1) Getting here:
Highway 236 from Boulder Creek to the villa is closed due to the repair of a roadbed partially collapsed last winter. You have two work-around options:
Go to Boulder Creek, then go north on 9 out of Boulder Creek for 7 miles until 9 connects with the other end of 236, make a left on 236 and come down to the villa through Big Basin State Park. It's a 21 mile detour.

- or -

go to Highway 9 in Felton, go up Felton Empire, take a right on Empire Grade, take a right on Jamison Creek Road, take a left on 236 just on the other side of the blockade. For those of you coming from 17, this might be the best way to get in.

2) Contacting Kevin:
I’ll be available on cell phone more than internet. Internet is going down for the foreseeable future. Call me if you need me.

3) Schedule:
Friday afternoon / evening: move clothing to new place and some boxes. Lamps if necessary.
Saturday all day: move boxes and loose items to new place. At 3:30 I will get the moving truck. Saturday night the computer will be disconnected and all internet communication will be cut off.
Sunday all day, starting at 11am: Pack items into moving truck, drive truck over Jamison Creek Road (oh dear lord) and unload items at new place. Dinner at Redwood Pizza in Felton.

4) Things to bring:
If you have something that can function as a moving blanket and keep my stuff from being scratched by sharp objects, please bring it. If you have ropes to secure furniture to the walls of the van with, please bring them.

5) THANK YOU ALL!!!!!

And I always thought it would be a little boy with an improvised weapon at hand...

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 22:48:34 GMT

Wacko Jacko has croaked.

Seriously, a heart attack? Not an outraged parent with a hand-cannon? This is so anti-climactic. I feel more cheated than folks who had tickets to his London shows.

Things I will miss

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 15:22:47 GMT

Finding fellows like this walking about on the road.

California Giant Salamander - Dicamptodon ensatus

This fellow was easily 6 inches snout to vent, around 11 inches overall and walking on Jamison Creek Road.

Confirm?

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 20:27:27 GMT

Someone at my work has heart that there is a campaign on twitter to change everyone's home city to Tehran in order to bog down the Iranian government in fake accounts they have to check in order to block. I'd think this wouldn't work as there'd be a simple tech solution like "block all accounts" or such.

Anyone out there know the truth?

Misplaced Places Hike - Return to Santa Lucias

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 04:43:30 GMT

Today we returned to the lonely and desolate end of South Monterey County, once again, in search of Manchester, the Lost City of the Santa Lucias, and the Los Burros mines. On our last visit we drove all over the fire roads and dirt tracks, never coming close. This time, armed with a better description from previous explorers, we met with some success, although the burnt remains of the ghost town of Manchester, and its cemetery, still elude us. Considering the density of the manzanita and poison oak, those graves will most likely never be found. This is a brief photo-essay of what we did find.

Smashed car that fell off the cliff-side road into the area.

Closeup of the car.

Explorer Geoff, slashing down the poison oak.

Red iron saturated water, seeping from an abandoned shaft.

Explorers on the road to the remains of the Los Burros Mines.

Panorama of the Santa Lucias mountains.

An ore flue, perhaps?

Unknown mining equipment.

Maker's stamp on the unknown mining equipment.

A huge driveshaft of some sort, perhaps a drill.

A diagonal mineshaft.

A more vertical mineshaft.

Scattered rusted metal debris of unknown purpose.

A view to the sea.

An antique winch. The cable leads to a collapsed shaft, now overgrown.

Maker's mark on the winch.

Highway 1 and the drive home.

Hey Geoff, I think someone in LA is marketing to you...

Fri, 19 Jun 2009 21:48:41 GMT

Eau yuk.

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 05:23:16 GMT

And with a woof-woof-woof, the sound of underbrush being disturbed, and a sudden yipe! yipe! yipe! the whole bloody villa now smells like a bothered skunk.

Oh thank you whomever you are who lets your dog run free. Thank you so very much.

Something about him looks familiar.

Fri, 12 Jun 2009 16:40:10 GMT

Just saw this mug shot of Phil Specter...

And rather than any song made famous by his "wall of sound", all I can hear in my mind is that famous opening riff (raff)...

"Its astounding
time is fleeting
madness
takes it's toll..."

Goddamn.

In other eyebrow raisers, did you know there is a life-sized statue of Riff Raff in New Zealand? Indeed, it's true.

It has it's own webpage as well.

Bike routes and buttheads

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 23:32:02 GMT

So yesterday, after signing my rental agreement and handing over the balance of my savings account in the form of a security deposit, I decided to take a little drive around town to see if I could find a better way to get to work from my new place than cycling over the hill outside town. Google maps showed a road that went through and the topographical image seemed to indicate it was pretty flat, so I drove around until I found it.

The road passed through the xian conference center, and had stopped at a crosswalk when a man walked up from behind my car and informed me that I didn’t belong there, people like me were not wanted, and I should turn around and go back where I came from as I wasn’t welcome. I can only presume he saw the pentagram on the hatch or was offended by one of the bumperstickers. In any case, I was in too good a mood to do anything other than tell him to fuck off and die (and run over his foot as I ignored his request and continued on my way), only to find that the road has been blocked, so I shan't be riding through their compound anywise, but it did remind me that I’m going to be living very near the fundie xian bible bigot community.

Funny in a Sartre kinda way

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 15:38:18 GMT

The Apple Experiment – The Aftermath

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 17:53:46 GMT

Several weeks back I posted a picture of a gallon jug set up for fermentation. I can now report a limited success at turning out home made apple cider.

This was a trial run to see if my theories about how to make Santa Cruz Scrumpy would come to fruition. Scrumpy is a rough apple cider popular with farmer types in rural parts of England. According to my appetite whetting source, tinksdarkerside , real scrumpy is a cloudy cider that is served in the same clay jug it is fermented in with no racking. My own experience making cider on my family’s orchard in Pennsylvania indicates that this can be accomplished in a plastic bottle as well, as long as your Great Aunt doesn’t discover the bottle that you’ve been “puttin’ the de’il inta ta apples” with and pour it out.

So I purchased two plastic jugs of unfiltered, unpasteurized apple juice from Gizdich Ranch down in Watsonville, poured one into a the gallon jug, pitched a half load of English cider yeast, and set it up for a ten day fermentation. Sure enough, in ten days the fermentation had slowed down and I had a cider on my hands, just not quite what I expected. But this wasn’t straight cider so much as ass-kicking apple moonshine.

Being that I wanted something that packed the punch of a beer and not something that packed the punch of drain cleaner, I decided to cut the cider by fifty percent with non-fermented apple juice when I bottled down to the growlers. This worked out quite well and the cider aged in the growlers to a good flavor and potency. It also did a wee bit more fermentation in the growlers as it was impossible not to get some of the yeast into the bottles when bottling down. Filtration would probably be a good thing when bottling down in order to get rid of some of the yeast, so I shall look into adding a screen filter when setting up the next round.

All in all, it was a pretty fair success. Mind you, it does not taste like any store-bought apple cider you have ever had, but it is plenty good and it packs the punch of a strong beer. I’m definitely going to be tinkering with the juice blend to come up with something that has a crisper flavor while not reducing the sweet that the Gizdich Ranch juice brought to it. The yeast need sugars, but it’s good to have some left in the final product too.

So, if my next home is large enough to host a housewarming party, I’ll try to have a gallon set up and ready for drinking.

Things we have learned tonight

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 03:06:10 GMT

Mr. Riley O'Dogg does not like beer.

He does, however, like scotch and he loves a crisp cider.

...I'm thinking we're gonna play drunk dog fetch later and see if he falls in the moat.

Because I love you all...

Mon, 08 Jun 2009 02:23:05 GMT

Rum Cherry Cooler

cherries
limes
rum
sugar
ice

Start with a little over a quart of cherries from your roadside organic produce stand. Slice and pit the cherries, then throw 'em in the blender. Add the juice from one to two limes, depending on size and your personal preference. Add two tablespoons of sugar. Add three shots of spiced rum. Fill the rest of the blender with ice and hit the high setting.

Oh my dear ghads yes. This is going to be served at my housewarming party, once I'm all moved and in my new place, yes it will.

Goodbye Grasshopper

Thu, 04 Jun 2009 18:36:22 GMT

David Carradine found dead

"How do I look?"
"You look ready."

International Smack-An-African Scammer Day

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 19:54:15 GMT

Those of you who have used craigslist to find a home in the past few years have no doubt come to the same awareness that I have; over half the ads being posted are from West African criminals running scams. The stupid ones post pictures of an amazing dream home, state that it is near some non-existent local landmark that any resident could check, and offer it at a ridiculously low price. The smart ones do a little research on the area, lift photos and information from local real estate sites, and advertise at a just below market rate. Either way, the result is the same; you get an email from a (doctor / missionary / international aid worker) who is in (Nigeria / Lagos / Sierra Leone / D.R. of Congo), who, upon receipt of your (bank transfer / cashier’s cheque / paypal payment) will (mail the key / have their lawyer deliver the key) to your new home. Most are in such bad and broken English that you instantly know it’s a crook, but some are quite well written, and worse, they have done enough research on your local area to know the landmarks, major streets and local stores. One of them knew Boulder Creek well enough to fool me for a couple emails until it became obvious they didn’t know anything about the condo in the villa that they were trying to rent to me.

I’m pretty damn frustrated with these African scammers and wondering what can be done to take them down. The 419 baiting sites are a start, but there must be some way to

a) filter them off craigslist
b) make it difficult for them to run scams
c) cut off all their fingers so they can’t type on a keyboard ever again.

Allright, so the last one is a little too far. We’ll just have them spayed / neutered. Considering the life expectancy of the lower classes in the West of Africa, that should lower the population of criminals in these countries within a few short years. And we can do the operation with a rusty can-opener.

Things that only happen at Kaos Labs

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 02:36:08 GMT

C: You do realize the part of the cat you were petting was her ass, don't you?

K: (holds finger under C's nose) Are you sure?

****************************************

C: So what do you call it when you give your girlfriend a Dirty Sanchez from a cat's ass?

K: Hmm... not-so-tender vittles?

Cecil B. Demented Memorial Film Review: Star Trek (sci-fi, 2009)

Sat, 30 May 2009 00:13:23 GMT

As a kid, I loved Star Trek. All through my childhood, I used to ration my television time every day to be sure that I was able to tune in to Chanel 2 at 6 (later 7:30) to watch the show. And although I've not seen an episode in years, it's amazing what I can recall. I also recall seeing a couple of the movies when they came out and feeling embarrassed by them. So when I saw the ads for the new film, I both looked forward to seeing it, and vaguely dreaded the idea.

Well, my fears were not necessary, thankfully this film lacked the embarrassingly childish cutesy crap of the television series that passes for human interest moments. There were a few bits that were call-backs to the original and other Star Trek series, but not to the point of being annoying. The acting was very good and I was particularly impressed with Zachary Quinto as Spock and John Mellencamp, I mean Chris Pine as Kirk. This reboot promises to be a lot grittier than the original, thankfully. The Romulans were interesting, although with 25 years to sit and sulk over their injuries, I suspected they'd be more likely to do something other than sit and wait for Spock to emerge from the hole. Like bring some of their advanced technology to the Romulan Empire so they could gain a insurmountable tactical advantage over the Federation, or maybe even warn the Romulans that their homeworld is near an unstable star? But the movie moves fast enough that you don't think of these things too much.

Aside from being yet another "travel-through-time" adventure, there was one thing that brought me out of the movie and back into my chair in the theatre: the black hole. Even given the suspension of belief that a space drama involves, it's hard for me to forget what I know about basic astronomy in order to accept a black hole as a tunnel through space and time rather than a ball of super dense matter whose gravitational force has created degenerate matter which absorbs everything that crosses it's event horizon, ships, debris, explosions, even light, emitting only Hawking radiation. The other thing was the ice monsters. Enormous apex predators that use massive amounts of kinetic energy... yeah, well, I managed to get through that by reminding myself I'd not seen enough of the environment to disallow a food chain that wasn't evident to me. Easier to deal with than traveling through black holes.

Anywise, it's a fun romp and the sequels should be fun enough to make watching the space cowboys fun. As long as they don't go fucking with any more black holes.

Prop 8 stands

Tue, 26 May 2009 18:21:23 GMT

Sf Chronicle coverage

So the only question is when we go to the ballot box to overturn this bigotry? If we hold off on doing it on the next election, we may be able to get some suits through to limit some of the influence of out of state influence and have more time to gather our forces to soak the swing votes in a tidal wave of reality before taking them by the hand to the polls. On the other hand, we can take the inertia we have and ride it hard for all it's worth to sweep this from the board.

What do you think?