Category: Journal

I just tore through Warren Ellis’ latest online offering, Normal, and my, what a nasty bit of business it is. It’s billed as a “smart, tight, provocative techno-thriller” and, I suppose if you squint a little bit, you could call it that. It’s pitch black, as its Nietzschean central conceit would indicate. It’s very, very funny, although not in the sort of way that would, or at least should, make you laugh out loud. From another angle, it’s very much the prequel to Ellis’ Transmetropolitan, hinting at the road we might take to arrive in Spider Jerusalem’s world. It’s a quick read and I always enjoy it when Ellis plays with a different format. In this case, it’s a serialized novella intended ideal for e-readers. No one will ever know for sure if these things will work, commercially and artistically, unless we try them from time to time. I’d call this one a success; I wasn’t just turning* the pages, I was eagerly looking forward to heading off to work so I could read it on the train. The one problem with novellas is that you can’t really say much about them without getting deep into spoiler territory. I will say that if you like short reads concerning the implications of trying to figure out what the future will really look like and you find Mr. Ellis’ thoroughly disturbing imagination funny, then jump on this one. There’s even one passage that makes me think either Mr. Ellis has been reading my diary or my mind, which probably should worry me a good deal more than it does. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m getting the majority of my banner images from The British Library’s archive over on Flickr. A few years ago, the British Library put them in the public domain so I’m pretty sure this is fair use. It’s a a ridiculously deep archive and worth your attention if you’re looking for a guilt-free source of interesting images. Oh, and the fact that I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before is there reason there’s not a search box on my landing page. Here’s a song I’d completely forgotten about. I owned this album back in 1991 when I was eating up anything involving Adrian Sherwood or Keith LeBlanc (or Renegade Soundwave and PWEI, natch). This track is equally thrilling and embarrassing (“Let the carnival begin…”.) I think it holds up pretty well over all and the extremely earnest lyrics feel, if not prescient, then at least very “on-point” for American, 2016. -RK       * And by “turning” I mean “swiping to the side on my phone.” For what it’s worth, the Android Kindle app is absolutely aces in its current form.

 I just finished reading a book that found its way in to my hands in an unusual way. A woman approached me on the train and offered it to me. There was a sticky note on it which read “Donate Please.” She told me that, since I was always reading, she figured it made sense to give it to me. That’s kind of nice, don’t you think? The book was Breathless In Bombay, a collection of short stories by Murzban F. Shroff. It’s a collection of stories set in present-day Bombay. None of the stories cross and none of the characters appear in more than one story, but they’re all thematically linked. Each story is concerned with highlighting the intersection of poverty and progress, some more successfully than others. I suspect that the stories are presented in the order in which they were written. The first one is a predictable trifle about impoverished clothes washers dealing with the fact that their trade is becoming obsolete in the modern world. It’s predictable and built on an overly obvious metaphor, but the stories pick up in terms of depth and characterization. The final story, the one which gives the title to the collection, is by far the most mature and subtle in the book. It’s a lovely meditation on love and perspective and priorities and it’s deftly told. I’m not wild about the entire collection, but if you’re interested in the subject matter, it’s a good read that picks up steam as it goes. Earlier this evening, I re-read the second volume of Grant Morrison’s The Invisibles, “Apocalipstick.” I’ve always regarded it as one of the weakest links in one of the greatest comic book stories ever published. Plot wise, it’s very much a “middle child,” bridging the beginning and endings without providing much in the way of payoff.  It’s filled primarily with back- and side-stories, so what little narrative their is is fragmented. And yet… The Lord Fanny origin story is spectacular, making Fanny the most fully-realized character in the series. King Mob and Jack Frost are “main” characters in The Invisibles, but Fanny’s really the fulcrum and this book lays the foundation for everything that comes after for her. While Fanny’s the star, the most memorable story has to be the introduction of Jim Crow. Guest artist Chris Weston, in what I think was only his second book post-2000 AD, steals the show with this exceptional creepy and uncomfortable story. This story would make a terrific short film or Twilight Zone-esque TV show. One of the fun things about The Invisibles is that it’s not only re-readable, but it can be re-read in almost any order. It’s non-linear, but more than that, its infected with time travel, so scrambling the order of the stories not only works, but sometimes, it reveals new wrinkles. Nice job, Grant. We’re watching a film called Pontypool right now. I’m not sure it’s good, but it’s really, really interesting. If you’ve read Warren Ellis’ JLA: Classified run, “New Maps Of Hell”, the idea will be familiar. I won’t go into exactly what that idea is, but it’s a good one even though the film doesn’t fully deliver on it. I’ve never heard of Canadian author Tony Burgess, who wrote the screenplay as well as the novel its based on, but he’s on the list now. -RK

Assuming this so-called “calendar” is accurate, in exactly one month, I’ll be getting good and truly married. In some ways, this doesn’t mark a particularly big change in our relationship*, but I’m still as excited as…huh, have you ever noticed that most cliched, figurative expressions for “excited” or “nervous” haven’t aged well? Anyway, it’s all going to be lovely. We’ll have all the traditional things: lobsters, bat skeletons, gilded horseshoe crabs, Lil Jon, Flex Mentallo, Man of Muscle Mystery. Oh, I can not wait to show you my eye patch which is on its way from literally halfway around the globe. If a man can’t be a super-villain on his wedding, when can he be? Which is to say, this ceremony is going to be very “us.” I should be nervous, and I am, at least a little. Pulling off events like this isn’t my forte, but Nicole is aces at stuff like this. What I’m not worried about is committing to love this woman for as long as the both of us live. That part’s easy as breathing. We’re at the point in the planning where the thing has its own momentum. The roller coaster has crested the first big hill and no force on this planet is going to stop it from going now. We could clench our teeth and hold on to the bar for all we’re worth, but knowing us, we’ll throw our hands in the air, laugh, and scream like the lunatics we are. One month. Wow   * According to our insurance company, we’ve been married for years now.

Pardon the infrequency of posts here recently. Aside from experiencing a greather-than-usual amount of disruption on one of the three fronts,* I lost a long-ish post I wrote upon completing Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. I reacted to losing it with the same dignity and grace that I normally display, which is to say, like a child whose ice cream fell out of the cone and on to the pavement. Rather than try to recreate that whole post, I’ll just go over the takeways: Susanna Clarke’s characters are the richest, most human I’ve ever read in any genre. Reading this book, you can’t help but notice how few authors do it really well. The story itself is strong and the complaints I’ve read about the conflicts not being strong enough are, I think, ill-founded. Reading a hardcover book the size of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell while standing up on a train is isn’t the sort of thing I can do very often. All-in-all, it’s a fine novel, one of those rare books that’s both “literary” and a joy to read. The outcry regarding San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick’s decision to protest by not standing for the national anthem is, I think, a good thing. An act of protest should force people to look at an issue they’ve taken for granted, to learn more about it, and to take sides. Personally, I think he’s well within his rights to do what he did and he’s got an awfully good reason to protest, so more power to him. What did I learned? I learned that the national anthem has a line in it about killing slaves. I had no idea. Did you? It’s right there in the third verse: No refuge could save the hireling and slave/From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave, Why, exactly are we ok with that line being in our national anthem? Honestly, it’s long since time to replace that unfortunate, unsingable song. Replace that only English melody with something more American. I’ve long advocated the P. Funk’s “Give Up The Funk,” but I’m open to suggestions. Speaking of that old English song, I don’t think I’d ever known that the melody for the Star Spangled Banner was lifted from “The Anacreontic Song” or, as it is more popularly known**, “To Anacreon In Heaven.” This song was the anthem of the Anacreontic Society, which, according to the most definitive of sources,  was a club for men interested in “wit, harmony, and the god of wine.” It was a bunch of musically-inclined gents who drank and wrote dirty songs about women. In other words, it sounds like almost any institution devoted to keeping women away so men could talk shit about them. It sounds weirdly familiar and “ripped from today’s headlines” for an organization which disbanded in 1786. It’s worth noting that the reason they disbanded was equally familiar: The curious Duchess of Devonshire, barred from the society by its all-male membership rules (barmaids were allowed, since they weren’t members), sometimes hid in a secret room under the stage in the tavern to hear the goings-on, enjoying the bawdy songs that were sung. Unfortunately, the duchess was a dampening influence on the society. Because the men were mortified that a woman of rank would hear them being so obscene, they disbanded in 1786 rather than continue, never knowing when the duchess would be in obscure attendance. (from Richard Nilsen’s blog) Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose indeed. So anyway, that’s where the title of this post came from. I feel like it’s the title of a good story, but I don’t have that story yet. If I were to write it now, it would be a little too obvious a stab at targets which are entirely too easy. I need to let it simmer a little first, but I wanted to get it out there now so I don’t forget, and so I can point at the dirty thief who uses it and call them out on it. Hell of a title though, isn’t it? -RK     * I break ’em down into three areas: Personal, professional, and relationship. If two of the three are stable, things are fine. So long as one of them is a safe harbor, I can get by. Things get ugly when all three are boiling. ** Using an exceptionally loose definition of “popular” here.

I’m not really in a foul mood right now, but I feel as though I have a lot of negativity in me that I need to lance and be rid of. It’s been a stressful couple of weeks and the long weekend couldn’t come soon enough. It also couldn’t be long enough, but I’ll take what I can get. —————————– Let’s start with the important stuff: The history behind Labor Day is not for the faint of heart. It was already a state holiday in more than two-thirds of the states when Grover Cleveland made it a federal holiday. His reason for doing so was that he sought to appease trade unions “…following the deaths of workers at the hands of United States Army and United States Marshals Service during the Pullman Strike of 1894 in Chicago.” * If that sentence doesn’t give you chills… He chose the first Monday in September instead of the more common first of May because of the way that the international workers’ movements were using that day to commemorate the Haymarket massacre, also in Chicago. My point is that the history of organized labor is largely a history of workers fighting against employers who are backed by the media, by the military, and by their own considerable wealth. These days, the influence of unions waning. Much of what they fought for has been undone. When you see labor ridiculed in the press, think about who controls the message and how they might benefit from it. I know very few people who don’t regularly work after hours, on weekends, or more than forty hours in a given week without the benefit of overtime. The shift from a manual labor economy to one involving offices has hidden the distinction who is “labor” and who is not. One thing is certain: If you do not own the business or benefit directly from its success, you are “labor.” On a very similar note, please pay close attention to the Dakota Access Pipeline standoff. It’s not a labor struggle, but it has many of the same characteristics. A company, backed by the forceful side of the government, is using violence to respond to protests against their actions. The major news outlets haven’t chimed in, hence the Buzzfeed link. So, different issue, but same dynamic. Based on what I’ve read, the Standing Rock Sioux and their allies deserve my support and today’s a good day to see what I can do to help. ———————- When thinking about the story of Sisyphus, I always forget that he’s already dead when he’s set to the task of rolling the ball up the hill. So much for the sweet release of death, huh? Anyway, until recently, I’d believed that his story was the best metaphor for “work” that western civilization had devised. That was prior to my seeing Terry Gilliam’s The Zero Theorem: I bring this up because I’ve recently had some small success doing work I truly love. Actually, for it to be “work,” I supposed I’d need to be paid. There have been enough instances of proper work not resulting in pay that the distinction is a little fuzzy. Anyway, it’s a bit strange that all of the success I’ve had has been limited to one very small subsection of the business and this recent example is no exception. The dots are so few and far apart that I’m not sure they constitute a pattern, but it’s curious and I may focus a little more and see if it’s a niche for me or just a coincidence. ——————————— I guess that’s it for tonight. Sorry for meandering there. I hope you had a lovely holiday. Labor Day is, of course, an important holiday, but it is a holiday and that means spend some time with loved ones and maybe try not to think so much about work..** -RK   * The Pullman plant was a marvelous example of the “company store” culturewhich has mostly disappeared from the U.S. Workers lived in a Pullman town, lived in Pullman housing (they were forbidden to build or own their own), bought from a Pullman company store, all at prices set by the Pullman corporation. Said prices tended to remain high even when wages were slashed, hence the strike in 1894. In a company store setup, workers weren’t technically slaves, but they were forced to subsist on wages that wouldn’t quite pay the bills. The company would, of course, loan them the money, knowing that it was impossible to earn enough to get out of debt and, well, there were still debtors prisons in those days. This practice was by no means limited to the Pullman company.  ** At the very least, try not to think about that email you received on Labor Day informing you that a very time-consuming bit of work would be required of you first thing Tuesday, so sorry, not our fault, ownership asked for it, so what can we do, have a great holiday! Do not think of that at all. It would just ruin your holiday.    

I’m in a bit of a holding pattern right now, in-between big events, waiting for things to happen as opposed to making them happen. I suspect that Nicole’s cold is going to migrate over to me sooner rather than later which will give me an opportunity to either dig in to some of the things heading my way or else infect everyone at my office. I’m uncertain as to which is preferable right now. If all goes well, I’ll be bring my father home from the hospital next Friday. The list of things that might not go well is imposing, but this particular visit has gone better than we had any right to expect, so it’s no unrealistic to hope. He’s not in pain right now, but he’s bored, and that’s almost as bad seeing as he’ll be there for most of the week. I talk to him every day, but it’s my sister who’s been with him every day bless her for that. I’m getting married in a couple of months, but apparently, that wasn’t enough stress for me, so I’m going to be presenting at a conference in Vegas in October as well. One of the few things I fear more than public speaking is letting people down, so, I suppose this is the lesser of two evils. If nothing else, it gave me a lot to discuss with my therapist. I haven’t seen her write so much on her pad in years. I can see why people get cynical about change as they get older. You start to recognize cycles, things repeating rather than truly changing, like little clockwork gears turning, each fad or fashion on its own timetable. The longer you’ve live, the bigger the gear you can see coming back around to its start. I’m not just saying this because I saw that bell bottom jeans are coming back into style for the third time in m memory, but mostly I am. -RK Neil Gaiman recycling Ovid to great effect. It’s late and I’m babbling a little, so I think I’ll shut it down for the night. Before I go, though, here’s the original image which was the basis for the header of this post. The sky was putting on a show the other night. I only regret that I didn’t get any of the lightning which was spiderwebbing its way through the cloud.   P.S. The title for this post comes from Steve Erickson’s novel of the same name, which I haven’t read. I have, however, read Tours of the Black Clock, and Days Between Stations would have been just as appropriate a name for it. Knowing Erickson’s work, this was entirely intentional and probably means something.    

Note: I apologize for the re-post here. I learned an important thing about how Squarespace works today: If you start a post on one computer, save your work, but don’t close the screen, and then resume editing on another computer, when you return to the original computer, you are faced with a your original work still in “edit” mode. Should you choose to cancel your edit, you’re presented with three choices: 1. Discard 2. Cancel (meaning cancel your canceling) 3. Save As I didn’t want to save over my work, I selected “discard.” You do not want to “discard.” This will remove your post entirely and not even dump it into the recycle bin. I’m not sure what the best choice is here; Squarespace support suggested reasonably that I should close the screen should I want to edit a post on more than one computer. This is Very Good Advice Indeed. Anyway, this behavior is a sword which cuts two ways and, while I carelessly lost my post earlier today, it remained on this computer and I was able to go back in to “edit” mode. We’ll see what it looks like when I try to post it from here in 3…2… …1 Pffft. Nope. At least I can copy and paste all the text, but I have to start a new post. Well, if that’s the worst thing that happens today, I reckon I’m doing ok. ———————————— Laptops don’t really feel like “mine” until they’re festooned with stickers with cultural reference (pop and otherwise). Here’s my new old laptop’s first batch, some of which are the same as the recently-deceased Lenovo and some of which are new for the Dell. My, doesn’t the young Mr. Steinbeck have a decidedly socialist look to him? Based on this particular constellation of stickers, I’m guessing this says: I support Transient rights. I like turtles and/or believe the world is carried on the back of one, give or take an elephant or four. I want to make people think my computer is a different brand than it is, but I couldn’t afford an Apple sticker. I think John Steinbeck has dreamy eyes. I like what you got. Good job! I may have sent my best friend in the whole world to a fiery death. I fear the Stark Fist of Removal. Anyone else got any laptop-stickery you’d like to share? On a completely unrelated note, Nicole just discovered that a particular episode of South Park was more true-to-life than we guessed. Not only is there really a Margaritaville drink maker, the sucker well set you back $1000. The scary thing? The description says there’s only one left in stock. Presumably, they started with more than one, so I can only conclude that the number of people who forked over a thousand dollars for a home drink mixing machine is greater than zero. Maybe it’s just me, but for me? Spending that kind of scratch on a margarita machine is nuts. On the other hand, a Bahama Mama maker is a whole ‘nother proposition: But could you use it to make margaritas?      

Friday was a rough day at work and I ran on fight-or-flight adrenaline all weekend. This resulted in about three hours sleep Friday night, which is something I paid the price for over the next few days. The net of this is that the weekend was a blur and getting out of bed this morning was the last thing I wanted to do. That’s normal for Monday mornings, but today was more Monday than most Mondays if that makes any sense. On a related note, I sometimes forget what a “splitting” headache feels like. I always associate hangovers with the worst headaches, but they’re not really “splitting,” are they? Hangovers make my brain feel like it’s sloshing around inside my head, bumping painfully up against my skull, every time I fail to maintain absolute motionlessness. What I’m experiencing today is entirely different. My head feels as though a spectral axe blade has struck it over my left eye and the phantom blade remains lodged in my noggin. My dear friends Advil and coffee have failed to make a dent in it today, but they’re the only tools at my disposal so I’m just going to have to deal with it. On the plus side, I’m pretty pleased with the results of the Hugo Awards voting. Most of my choices did well and, when they didn’t, I can’t really have any complaint about the winners. The toughest vote for me to cast was in the Best Novel category. Neal Stephenson’s Seveneves was equally tough for me to vote for and vote against. If you’ve read it, you know what I mean. I’m relieved by the lack of drama this year. The trolling seems to have received far less attention than the works which isn’t something you could say about the awards last year. I’m starting to enjoy music again, both listening to it and playing it. That’s a good sign. I don’t enjoy much of anything when I’m in a funk, and music is sort of my canary in this regard. Apparently it’s a magical canary, as it returns to life when the air clears. -RK P.S. I have determined that Blue Oyster Cult’s “Don’t Fear The Reaper” is probably the most goth song in the world. This despite the fact that it’s by a heavy metal band performing straight power pop. Goth knows no labels…except “goth,” I suppose.  

Good thing I like this kind of weather. With any luck, my father’s coming home from the hospital today. This is his second week-long stay in a month and he’s getting awfully tired of hospital beds. Most of the news out of this stay has been good, but a man his age spending this much time in the ICU is never a positive thing and I’m hoping he gets to spend some time at home after this. My medical situation has improved mightily over the last month or so. Steroids are magical, but they come at a price. Now that the problems requiring steroids have been thoroughly quashed, there as a little cleanup required to take care of the side effects. Everything appears to be under control. The only thing left is to do something about the weight I packed on which I’m going to blame on the steroids even though I know full well it’s my own fault.  Being under the weather invariably takes a toll on my state of mind and this time was no exception. I didn’t update this space regularly because I really couldn’t think about anything other than being ill. It’s quite focusing, but not in a way that is helpful.  I just noticed the phrasing of that last sentence and I apologize. I’ve been reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell and the rhythms of it are addictive and bleed over into everything I think. I’ve written some exceedingly strange emails for work over the last week. I mean, more so than normal… Earlier, I forgot to mention a couple of the new-ish comics I’m reading and thoroughly enjoying. Marvel’s Black Panther reboot, written by Ta-Naesi Coates with art by Brian Stelfreeze, has been spellbinding so far. I won’t give too much away, but tonally, it reminds me of The Sandman’s penultimate arc, The Kindly Ones, with T’Challa facing many of the same sort of self-created perils as Morpheus did. Likewise, the subjects of identity and duty are recurring themes and the answers aren’t always easy or pleasant. This one feels like it’s being set up for a very long run and I’m eager to see where it goes. The other standout is Archangel, written by William Gibson and drawn by Butch Guice. Gibson is one of my favorite novelists and I was afraid that I’d set my hopes to high for this book, but so far? So good. If you’ve read Gibson’s The Peripheral then the setup will feel a little familiar, although the players involved and their motivations are wildly different than in his novel. Having Guice draw it is a bonus for me; I’ve been a huge fan of his highly unconventional style ever since the original X-Factor books. This is another one I expect to be with for as long as this creative team remains intact. I’ve heard a rumor that the English Premier League 2016-17 season started last Saturday, but, having dragged myself out of bed at six A.M., I can assure you that no football has yet been played. Foxes never quit, but they appear to be a little slow to get started. #LCFC

Today’s post is a bunch of little stuff that was too big for Twitter but not big enough to post on their own: I remain thoroughly defeated by national politics this time around. Fortunately, my ability to make a difference at the national level is too small to measure. The silver lining to this is that I feel compelled to pay more attention to the local scene where I might actually be able to make a little difference. I’m going to be paying a good deal of attention to how local candidate approach law enforcement. If you’re at all interested in this sort of thing, I cannot recommend Grits for Breakfast, a blogger covering law enforcement in Texas, highly enough. I’ve learned more about that nuts and bolts of law enforcement policy since I found this blog than I ever expected to know. —— I’ve determined that anything “featuring Lil Jon” is superior to anything which does not feature Lil Jon. This rule can be applied to almost anything: The 111th United States Congress feat. Lil Jon is better than the 111th United States Congress. A sunset walk on the beach feat. Lil Jon beats a sunset walk on the beach. Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead feat. Lil Jon is superior to Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. There are probably some exceptions to this rule, but there don’t seem to be very many. Feel free to try this one out. You can even take the credit. I’m not here for the glory; I just want to make my little contribution to society. —– A year after it’s release, Microsoft’s Edge browser finally supports a few extensions. The fact that it shipped without such important functionality is kind of sad, but I thought I’d take it out for a spin now that it at least cleared that very low bar. After a week of using it at the office, I’m prepared to say it’s an impressive browser. It’s quick, it’s more reliable, for me, than Chrome*, and it’s got less of a memory footprint. It’s got a clean, pared-down look that’s thoroughly in keeping with the current aesthetic. It was enough to make me see if I wanted to try out the whole Microsoft “ecosystem.” It turns out that Outlook is chock-full-o-ads and they want a monthly fee for Office online. Nope nope nope. Not interested. Edge is fine and I’ll probably keep using it at work for some things, but that’s as far in that direction as I’m going to go. —– Speaking of Microsoft, I managed to kill my laptop by applying a great deal of weight (my foot) to the screen. It’s a cheap enough machine that repairing it doesn’t make a lot of sense. So, I pulled a five year old laptop out of the closet and thought “Well, I’ll just upgrade it to Windows 10 and away we go.” Windows had other ideas and I someone managed to corrupt the master boot record. Figuring I was looking at a total loss (the OEM DVD wouldn’t load, either), I put Ubuntu 16 on my thumb drive and installed it instead. I’ve never made much of an effort to get to know any of the various flavors of Linux, but this has been a pretty easy transition. Firefox is Firefox, and I was already using LibreOffice, so it wasn’t completely foreign territory. What really struck me, though, was how much better GIMP runs in this environment. Even on a fairly potent gaming computer, GIMP takes an age to load on a Windows machine. On this older laptop, it runs approximately as quickly as Paintbrush does in Windows. In fact, this laptop is faster and more responsive that the nearly-new machine I use at the office. I knew Linux as quick, but I didn’t really get just how well it performed. I’m impressed. —– We got some rain here for the first time in ages. Teeny little frogs hatched by the scores and the side streets were covered with the little guys. We hit up the farmer’s market and saw our duck people and our goat cheese people and our micro greens people and had a lovely little impromptu lunch. It never got above 90 degrees today, so it was practically arctic out there. Even Ice Cube would have called this a good day. -RK * My issue with Chrome is that sometimes all button controls stop working. This issue affects all pages and reloading the pages doesn’t help. I have to restart the browser to get it working again.