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Michael considered fate at 16:00   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment

Today I did a bad thing. I abused time. I got my mits on the controls of the universe and made it do wacky things like slow down, speed up, slide sideways.. and I didn't even mean to. When you're in that mid-state of sleep/awake on a Sunday morning, when you're not sure if you're ready to get up yet or ready to fall back into a deep slumber, when the day is in clear danger of being zapped into oblivion by a single blink of an eye, then snooze! boing: Evening Time.. this is when you aren't in the best shape to be making decisions. Especially not about the universe. And this, my friends, is when I made the ill-fated decision to warp my perspective out like gumbie on the rack.. In a single heart-beat I raced forward from 11:00am to 3:20pm. It was like a roller coaster ride, as I tossed and turned on the bed but so quickly it was as if I didn't move at all. Hours streaming past faster than autobahn traffic. When I finally mashed the big red stop button my heart was racing and my mind was out of breath. It took me another hour to recover and climb out of bed to face the world and what I'd done to it. I hoped no one noticed but I was petrified that I'd screwed someone's plans up. Maybe a stroll in the park that turned into a run, I dunno.

So I should be doing work right now, catching up with my time card that I've already submitted and am therefore responsible for. I should be contemplating my school projects. I should be doing something productive - it's what makes the world go round - but I'm not. Instead I did the shuffle-shuffle upon exit of my bed and I put the kettle on. I opened a browser window and typed in the first thing that came to mind. Not cnn.com or nytimes.com or news.google.com or msnbc.com. Not even slashdot.org or metafilter.com or daypop.com or boingboing.net. I just needed something good with my morning tea. Something soothing in a natural sort of way. Literature.

So I typed in t h e k n o w n u n i v e r s e . n e t. I read short stories, anecdotal poems in prose. Real, published for the world to see, interesting and compelling, drawing-me-back-for-more literature.

When I was done there I went over to tony's to hear about SXSW, which is a glob of "Film and Interactive Conferences and Festivals" - basically music, film, and some blogger stuff as well, with blogger panels, awards, all sorts of shnazz - bringing what we do here on the internet into the real world and showing that this new hipster lifestyle involves technology and stuff.. it was only a matter of time before the geeks got their claws into things and started to take over, changing the very definition of the word.. now it's happening.

Afterwards, I noticed tony's link to David Duchovny's blog, in which his last contribution he bumbles through his first audio post. Brilliant. Perhaps this is a case of blogging as advertisement (for his new movie) but quite frankly it's the sort of advertising I'd prefer to be submitted to.. over flashy commercials and annoying banner ads.

Then? Wil Wheaton, who once played Crusher on Star Trek the Next Generation, talks about his recent outting on MSNBC and how little they "get" blogging and how they chose to focus on the celebrity aspect of things as opposed to the more intimate and real aspects of what blogging can bring to media. I think Wil said it well:

I was hoping we'd discuss the empowering nature of blogs, and how anyone, even celebrities, can use blogging software to communicate with people. I hoped to point out that blogging is very egalitarian, and it doesn't matter how famous a person is offline, if their blog just isn't relevant or interesting, nobody will pay attention once the novelty wears off, and they'll be stuck with little more than a promotional tool that is largely ignored. When we started out, I tried to explain that I was a "blogger with a high-profile job", rather than a "celebrity blogger," but they just weren't interested in hearing that. Instead, they did everything they possibly could to turn the conversation to She Whose Name Will Not Be Spoken, Britney Spears, and other vapid media whores darlings who would probably vanish in a puff of smoke the instant the media stopped fawning over them.

Bummer. But if you follow my link to his site you'll be pleased to see that at least the online rag Salon managed to get things right.

After my literature review for the day, I went over to the evil empire (aka Amazon) to find a copy of The Last Waltz. Last night at the Green Room (Le Salon Vert) on St. Laurent I was chit-chatting with a beautiful girl (who happened to be sitting on her boyfriend's lap, no worries) about The Band. She was a die-hard fan and expounded upon their greatness with flying hands and a lively sparkle in her eyes. When she heard I had not seen The Last Waltz, a documentary about the last concert they played with many guests such as Dylan, Diamond, Morrison, and even The Boss, she grabbed my forearm and squeezed. She poked me in the chest. "You have to see it!" she demanded with imperative intonation. I quickly told her I would put it on my to-do list and she blinked, unsatisfied, "Put it on you to-do list for TOMORROW," she insisted.

I, too, am a big fan of The Band but there was something in those eyes - the insistence, the pleading - that made me get up today and go searching for my own DVD copy. There was something there in her intensity that reminded me of a girl I once knew, a girl I once tried to love. It wasn't exactly a new epiphany I had right there in the bar, but sort of a recollection of ideas. Rememberance of certain facts of life that, when put together, formed some lessons to be learned. Specifically that the fiery intensity of little pixie girls can be dangerous. Specifically that this intensity is best enjoyed in little spurts - in the form of a concert DVD suggestion perhaps - and that trying to bottle this amazing spirit up into a bottle, into some sort of caged animal like a relationship.. well, you can try but you might get burnt.

I've been burnt quite a few times in my life but there is a certain 1st-degree quality of a pixie burn that drives right to the bone. I got burnt once already by one of these creatures and I'm, at least for now, wary enough to keep my distance.

So I ordered a copy of The Last Waltz and I'll be looking forward to that in the days to come, along with a copy of Raising Arizona to complete my Cohen brother's collection.

Afterwards I got myself another cup of tea and pulled the curtain back in my little box of a room, opening myself up to the world. I looked out at the parking lot behind my building and there was a woman throwing a ball around for her dog. Last night, as I faded off into sleep around 4:00am there was a dude sitting in his car with the door open, banging on a drum. Before that, in the evening, a group of kids were smoking between two cars, pissing in the middle of the lot. Yesterday afternoon a crazy man, lurching and spastic, yelled after his dog as it sniffed around the automobile tires. A well dressed older couple stood silently by their car as they watched this dishevelled man stumble into the parking lot and capture his bull terrier, grabbing the leash and speaking harshly to the dog like it was a misbehaved child. The couple remained still as the dog and the bum wandered down the street, still talking to the street, the apartment buildings, the lamp post.. whoever or whatever would listen. When he was finally a few doors down the road the well dressed man and woman finally closed the door to their car and headed in the opposite direction. Lunch or early dinner at a nice restuarant, I suppose.

Now, I'll put my head down and let the sun shine into my little box unfettered. I'll leave the rays be as they bounce around my room. It comforts me just to know they're there. I'll Netmeeting into my work box and put some hours in doing java development and then maybe I'll read a research paper or to. I'll feel productive, refreshed after such a nice nights sleep, and I'll feel alive, part of the world that lies right outside my window.