My Fault

I sum up today's efforts thusly:

In all of my efforts at fiction,
I attempt to harness my diction.
My brain I will rack,
for it's talent I lack.
Either that, or its just Virgo's affliction.

Adventures in Dunny-land

My First Dunnies (part 1)
Originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Here we go. I've gone and posted pics of some art projects that have racked my brain for the last month or so. Seeing as these are my first attempts at anything of this scale, they turned out better than I had hoped. My initial try was somewhat successful, but insufficient materials, lack of know-how, and general sloppiness relegated it to a liberal acetone wipe to eradicate all mistakes. What you see here is the second and more successful attempt. I like to think that it is probably a simple design, but I think the most simple ones tend to be the most successful. I wish they had some blanked-out Dunny templates, but I can understand the propietary concerns they might have. Too bad.

More information in the post below.

Adventures in Dunny-land (continued)

My First Dunnies (part 2)
Originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

This one right here is a more character-based shot. What you don't see, are the rear details that make it more special. What? You want to see the rear details? Well, that's probably saved for when I have more time to take more detailed pictures. I actually liked working on this guy more. Even if he isn't as visually impressive, he's got a facial expression that kills me every time I see it. I may become addicted to this type of artistic expression.

Next stop: Munny-land or Qee-ville.

Dog on Staff

My Dog Has a Job
Originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

My dog officially has a job. Acting as staff for the local high school, Frankie helps students with their schedules or any inter-class conflicts that may arise. He's only been working there for a few months so far, so it remains to be seen if his work ethic of sleeping and eating daily will pan out.

You know, I never realized until looking at this picture how old that dog is. All that gray around his muzzle really makes him an aged canine. Sad as it is to see that he has a hard time responding to a person when they call his name, it's heartening to know that he can still run around and be excited when new people come home for the first time. He's about 13 years old already, that's about... 91 dog years. No arthritis, but allergies aplenty, he's a good dog. One day I hope to have one of my own.

It's too bad the apartment doesn't allow it. Someday...

Spin Me A Yarn (Continued Further)

I continue into the realm of undiscovered, decidedly amateur, and possibly awful fiction.  How sad this must be, to witness a story of little mirth, no imagination, and stilted language.

A Tisket A Tasket - Part 3

Each queue moved with a tenuous slither across the golden tiles of the Magician's Hall.  Spiritedly darting amongst the masses, Chatter looked anxiously for his master, Ajax Hosseltassle, who would be one of many Lesser Magicians on any other day.  It was with great elation, that Chatter saw Ajax at the head of a long, winding group, head down, in formal dress, about to receive his ornamentation that would be the first step in his High Magician's Inauguration.

A faint, elliptical corona emanated from his left and right wrists, the first step in any typical ornamentation.  What followed next was less than ordinary.  Each blinding ring extended towards the top of his hat, to the floor and formed two slowly rotating rings around the receiver.  Revolving deliberately, if one was close enough, they would hear an echoing hum, shrill enough to make hairs stand on end.  Chatter squinted in disbelief.  In all the years he'd seen inaugurations, it was a marvel to see the man he'd served for so many years finally achieve his life's dream.

The whirling rings obscured what Chatter could see of Ajax.  The transformation was not immediate, but he could make out the subtle color shift in his robes.  He would start that it was a deep hunter's green, but then he would recall it had shifted to a dark violet sheen and from that violet sheen it settled into a bustling lemonesque eyesore which remained for what seemed to be several minutes before finally landing on a shattered crimson.  Slowly, very slowly, the rings settled too and dissipated into starlight specks all a-glitter on the magnificent tiles of the Hall floor.  Ajax stepped up towards the iron throne and Chatter drew a deep breath of excitement, for it was finally the moment he'd been preparing for ever since he'd known he'd be the High Magician's familiar.

Standing in front of the iron throne, the newly ornamented magician called for his familiar in the formal tone.  "Von Dox Chatter, I meet you this day.  What is your tribute?"  Ajax said clearly, and although it spread from the closest ear to the farthest reaches of the Hall's corners, it was not loud in the slightest.  Chatter bounded forward, the tiles still glittering from sacrament, and met his master's gaze below the dais of the High Magician's Seat.

"This I bring as tribute for you, Ajax Hossletassle, first in the line of Hossletassle High Magicians."  Chatter said, clearly proud of his master's accomplishment.  Reaching behind his familiar's robes, the small frog drew forth his gift...

Halfway Through the Cold

So I made it back for a little bit today.  I did have a nice and restful sick day, however, and managed to catch some lost Zs while I was under quarantine.  Not that I usually like being cooped up in the Hawth that often, I tend to get cabin fever.  In the case where I have just enough energy to change channels and stare vacantly into a tube made of cathode rays (how many televisions are still made that way), I can make an exception.

So what did I do yesterday? I re-watched Richard Kelly's Donnie Darko.  Not just the movie as I'd first seen it, but the Director's Cut.  Although somewhat different, it still remains a stunning picture that I consider to be a favorite.  Where else can you have a cross-wise, independent science-film flick that's slightly disturbing chock-full of 80s references and philosophical subtext.  It's never pretentious and every shot in the film is striking in some manner.  It's a good movie to watch when you have time to concentrate and if you're not into explicating movies, there's still a the six-foot death's-head bunny rabbit named Frank.

Anyhow, didn't get a lot done yesterday, but one's not really expected to be productively ill.  Should be a good week otherwise.

Out of the Office

Feelin' sick. Lyin' in bed. Regular posting may continue whenever I feel better...

Fritz

My laptop is dying slowly right now.  It's somehow been victim of the "infinite loop" error caused by a memory bug.  Not sure what to do right now, but it's going to consume a bit of space for now.  I'm going to attempt to complete this before I can finish the serial I've been working on, what a pain!

My Music and Your Music

Music posts are always fun for me.  I really like trying to pick out appropriate words to describe things you hear when listening to a song, and the emotions they elicit.  Maybe I don't always get the point across and perhaps the conclusions I draw are way off-base, but it's fulfilling when I can look back and say, "Yea, I remember that album" with a fond tear in my eye.

Well, maybe not a tear, but perhaps just a nostalgic, goofy grin.

Sometimes, I like to think that the enthusiasm I have for a certain group might inspire a reader or two to check out the website, buy their album, or maybe even acquire it from a colleague.  Not that I think everyone will like it right off the bat, but it's nice to hype something every now and then.  Musical taste is a very subjective thing these days.  No one agrees with every band on another person's list and why should they?  Shareable digital music really does create an interesting dilemma though.  How much cross-pollination is too much and when does one get sick of another person's musical persistence?

I can't say I'm as incensed as this writer at the proliferation of public musical displays.  Having gone over Last.FM's networking possibilities, I think that it's fascinating to see what inspires others.  At the same time, since musical taste is subjective, who's to say one person's iTunes list is any better than the next person's?  There have been blogs read that claim their musical tastes to be utterly unique, diverse, and important.  There have been people expressing their undying love for guilty pleasures like N'Sync and even those British stalwarts, Westlife.  I find the latter to be more inspiring, especially if they're passion really belies the questionable disposition of such a musical choice (haha).

What the writer really lambastes is the ubiquity of music these days and how readily available it is to the public's ears.  Putting your own musical selection out into the ether can be frustrating in some cases (why must people be so proud of themselves?), but I believe it can also be laudable that one is brave enough to do so.  Annoying as it may seem, I think it's an impassioned display that's warranted for those few who are proud enough to do so.

Really, I'm not here to say that I love every type of music and my playlists are king.  What I am here to say is to let your music sing out.  If Queensryche is what makes you who you are or if every time you hear Ace of Base you shed a tear, you're entitled to shout it from the heavens.  Just don't claim you're any better than your neighbor just because all your favorite bands are small, independent, whiny emotastic, garage-dwelling slackers. 

Famima!!

Famima!!
Originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

This here, is the exterior to a new Japanese import to our shores, the convenience store known as Famima!! Known as Family Mart in Japan, this store is normally on par with 7-eleven, but on our shores, it's something very different.

First of all, one must understand how much more integral the convenience store is in the modern-day Japanese lifestyle. As most days are spent on the train and at the office, a most common sight seen on the streets of Tokyo is many people eating on the run. What better place is there to eat and run than a convenience store? On our trip to Japan (almost a year ago, wow), we would stop by one of the many convenience stores throughout the city. It was either Family Mart, Lawson, or 7-eleven where we'd stop, grab a couple of onigiri and some drinks (Calpico for me and Green/Barley tea for Gracie) and truck on over to the subway before setting out for our tourist destination for the day. Always a fine start to our day, it's one of my fondest memories of our trips, just sitting next to Grace and chowing down on our breakfast. What came to our shores, however, is much different.

Seeing that 7-eleven, Circle K, and AMPM are probably the only two recognizable convenience stores in the US, Family Mart really needed to set themselves apart, and they really have. What is normally a run-of-the-mill stop-and-go in Japan is more of a destination on our shores. Japanese treats, including the always-desirable Pocky, and drinks are numerous and high-end bottled water adorns the shelves. Instead of rotating hot dogs, there are steamed buns underneath heat lamps and there are even shelves topped with onigiri! Also, if you ever need a bento box for lunch, there's no shortage of them to be found at Famima.

It was crowded, for a convenience store, and there was so much good stuff that we left with a couple of good-sized bags filled with treats. It makes me nostalgic for our Japanese vacation, but seeing that it wasn't exactly the same as its Eastern counterpart, it was almost a lesser experience. That doesn't really diminish what it was, however. Along with Beard Papa, it's a welcome addition.

Spin Me A Yarn (Continued)

Part two, dear friends.  More long-winded fantasy for any who will take it upon themselves to read. 

A Tisket A Tasket - Part 2

COP technicians, by trade, were a tight-lipped sort.  Ajax didn't expect furious conversation, but the silence and askance stares from his accompaniment was strikingly awkward.  Surely, it was his newly anointed status as High Magician-elect.  He thought to himself.  They must be quite nervous as it is a high order for technicians to guard someone of my stature on the day of my inauguration. 

A High Magician's inauguration was nothing to sneeze at.  Four days of celebration, followed by a tremendous political spectacle of fantastical stature, it was not unusual for the High Magician to be overwhelmed by the majesty of it all.  Ajax himself was not unfamiliar with the opulence expected of Company bureaucrats.  Golden kobolds supporting the glittering oak sedan chair, Ents trumpeting the fanfare on peculiar brass instruments, and even the presentation of the familiar's gift were incredible upon the first few viewings.  In this case, it would be anything but rote.  Chatter had already promised his gift would never see rival for centuries and the earnest look in the ever-present Hossletassle familiar's eyes bled truth.  Why would it be any less for the most prestigious name in Magic?

Drawing the Hossletassle wand from the wristband within his insleeve, Ajax wound it's thick leathren strap around his forearm securely.  "How much further?"  He intoned calmly.

"Patience."  The technician on his left replied out of the corner of his mouth.  Eyes straight ahead, he was a man of business. 

Ajax fiddled with his wand, practicing his inaugural speech in his head.  Several affirmation spells dancing in his thoughts, the wand darted in several spindling z-formations before settling on an imaginary point in space.  The incantation escaped him for the moment as he marveled at the queue forming up before him.  All of those taking part in the inaugural sacrament did not stop for his presence, as is custom.  The Observatory Hall was lined with wizard and newt each aside the ruby lanterns marking the sacramental processions.  Each lantern was set deep in a bronze column supporting the diamond-tiled ceiling.  Erected at least four centuries previous, the central dome of the observatory housed the great iron throne of the High Magician.  The senate seats of the Company's lesser magicians had been evacuated during the previous weeks' preparation, but Ajax could almost smell the walnut veneer of the tabletops. 

Standing behind a stout magician in a green-feathered cap, Ajax prepared to receive what would be his last ornamentation as a common Magician.  Despite the knowledge he possessed from all those who passed before him, his heart still beat with incredible speed.  Only a scant few of his peers stood between him and that which was rightfully his.  The High Magician's ultimate goal:  Archimedes' Device.

'Cause I'm a Warrior

Here's an interlude before pursuing a promised musical round-up.  A proper interlude since this disc actually precedes the rest by miles and miles.  "What, pray tell, is this disc?"  You ask?  None other than "Show Your Bones" by the irrepressible Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Background check.  Their debut LP, "Fever to Tell" launched them onto the rock scene with the vigor of their dreamy anthem, "Maps."  Buoyed by radio airplay and purported intense performances, they garnered favor amongst the scene for their refreshing grit and enthusiasm.  The album was rife with anger, a certain type of aggression, and provocative lyrics splattered across vinyl.  What one expects out of the album from the opening track, "Rich", quickly spirals out of control to the ethereal conclusion of the explosive "No no no."  This song, amongst the strikingly disparate last three tracks, elevates "Fever" from its TNT-laced roots to something much, much more.  Specifically, it promises greater things to come.

Which is where we are now.  "Show Your Bones" takes a cue from the more polished tracks off of "Fever" and explores them to a high degree.  While one may not find the same incendiary track-to-track demolition, there's a practiced band coming into its own.  Their first single, incidentally the first track, "Gold Lion" has gathered extensive play on its own, and it really serves as a good primer of what to expect throughout.  There are a few tracks reminiscent of "Maps," "Dudley" comes to mind, but there are no carbon copies to be found.  Truly, there are moments where it ascends into mightier territory.  "Way Out" serves notice that the listener is in for a tremendous experience.  The opening strains roil about on acoustics before ascending to a stadium-level climax.  This album is bigger, more polished, and a stupendous obliteration of any hint at a sophomore slump.

If I had any complaint, it would be the fact there is less trauma behind "Bones" than witnessed on "Fever."  It's almost as if the latest effort reeks of a broken-down heart rather than a broken-heart.  Karen O is still a cyclone of a lead singer, but there's a vulnerability more apparent than before. Where there was an apparent sneer plastered on "Fever" there's an accompanying quivering lower lip on "Bones."  A minor complaint it may be, it doesn't make the record any less enjoyable.

Pick it up if you can.  It goes on my list as highly recommended and one not to be missed.

Oh Sizzle, Part the Third

It's been a while since I've blogged about all the media attention my fair home county of Orange has gotten recently.  Starting out with the melodrama The OC, mainstream perception of the county is most fittingly that of a spoiled, homogeneous sect of Southern California more plastic than Beverly Hills, more glamorous than Hollywood, and more shallow than Death Valley.  What started with a simple show of displaced good intentions evolved into the most vapid reality show of its time, Laguna Beach: the Real Orange County.  I've talked about this show and the area it represents, but never has it been a positive viewpoint from my perspective.  At least there's one person benefiting from the semi-stardom they've received, but I do feel sorry for all those who are now stuck with the spoiled brat label many of the so-called reality stars of that show deserve.

You would think that was the end of media fascination with all things Orange County.  No sir, the second season of Laguna Beach featured more of the same vacuous conversation, insipid gossip, and bottle blonds to put Josh Schwartz' baby to shame.  It's no surprise that most of the show is in fact not that real to begin with.  Semi-staged situations, fed lines, and scheduled conversations really do make it seem akin to the drama of the Cohen family, but that's not where the line blurs.  We are now officially into fabricated reality territory with the onset of a new show called The Real Housewives of Orange County.  

Practically stapled to the coattails of some famous scripted ladies from ABC , this show is not without its controversy.  I for one, will fall into the category of one who refuses to watch the travesty.  Although I have learned to come face-to-face with the reality of homogeneity in Orange County, I still refuse to believe all its citizens tend towards the blitzkrieg superficial end of the spectrum.  Of course, as I've mentioned before, nowhere is it more apparent than South county, but being in the central part of the County I tend to be appalled by the continued exploitation of not only those who film, but those who participate.  Hearing some of the out-of-context quotations from the previous article, it's hard not to imagine many participants want fame, no matter what the cost.  Maybe what it really comes down to is how much is their dignity worth?  Most likely, they can believe in every single word they say and every action they commit to celluloid, and what could be more sad than knowing that is fact.

I'll repeat what I've said before: there are many more real people in Orange County being ignored every day.  I see them in Santa Ana, Westminster, and Costa Mesa.  The most attention I've seen there this week has news coverage of an immigration march in Costa Mesa.  There is no doubt many would say, "That's in Orange County!?" in stunned disbelief.  How many people know of the taco stands, the numerous numerated Pho restaurants, and the number of diverse kids my own dad mentors in ROP?

I'm not saying I'm without my own Orange Countiness, it has been known to rear its head once in while, but there is a need to refocus on the lesser known aspects of what the 714 can be known for.  The next time someone asks me where I'm from, I don't want any follow-up questions having to do with plastic surgery and boat parties.  For this, I have television to blame.

God Only Knows

There's this new show on television everyone's been talking about.  It features stilted relationships, quirky situations, and several very memorable, albeit perhaps unrealistic, moments.  No, I'm not talking about Grey's Anatomy, but the new HBO prime time hour long drama, Big Love.

Now, if you haven't heard of it (and I'm sure many have) the selling-point of this series is polygamy.   Well, not that it sells polygamy, but the focus specifically is on that of a man with three wives and the family life they lead.  Being that the subject matter appears questionable at times, there is no doubt that its place on television is that of premium cable.  Bill Paxton stars as the paterfamilias in question and its my belief that no one else could play this role with as much conviction.  After seeing his impassioned turn in A Simple Plan and then most likely his turnaround role in Frailty, there's no doubt he's got chops to treat this material as if he believes in it.  That's what great acting is all about, but this show is more than just acting.

One would think you really know all there is to know just by hearing the premise, but there is much more to the show than just the surface.  All sorts of angles are explored, insiders, outsiders, children's, various sects of theology, and perhaps a few strange conspiracies abound.  There's a Godfather-like figure, a couple of ultra-conservative teenagers, a constantly simmering inter-familial conflict, and Viagra to boot! 

Now, I'm not saying I endorse this sort of thing at all, but if one needs another reason (aside from Curb Your Enthusiasm and the Sopranos) to shell out an extra $10 a month for these channels, Big Love would be it.