Sleep Thing

I Read A Book Then Said This

2009-02-10T17:53:00.006Z

EVER is psychotic literature - not the literature of (or by?) the psychotic. Curious minds we have – unbraced even for simple reality. Should reality change – minds flail to adjust.

What life would be like in a world where quantum effects regularly erupt into the macro world? Where the ban on macro quantum strangeness is repealed? The quotidian, daily life, boredom, depression, the functions of the body, lovingly rendered, that is, boiled, in fourteen dimensional space.

Time corruption, contraction, decoupling, as in an acid trip. Voices garbling, as when the didactic robots contract schizophrenia and babble in Martian Time Slip. Buzzing, howling, under the influence of heat.

A palace of swords reversed - symmetry reversed – not apparent, neither the symmetry nor the reversal, but mathematically modeled and demonstrable. Certain, uncertain - does the equation balance? Do the braces tie? I think that with the right definitions and declarations, the right includes, Ever would compile.

The bubble - laughing stock of the natural world. The comic relief amongst physical configurations. The membrane expanding until pressure is balanced, or rupture occurs. A bubble sufficiently compressed, imploding rather than exploding, is the only known method of producing nuclear fusion at sub-plasmic temperatures.

Bled a thread, above would crud, striations of smaller spores – rhyme, alliteration, sound substitution - a muon becomes a gluon, a word becomes another, congruent, lexical devils dashing semantic symmetry.

In a hole, filling a hole with holes. Sylvia Plath starving in a crawlspace, stoned on anti-psychotics. Sound is vibration after all – if not a thing, a property of a thing. Inappropriate properties – strangeness, spin – doors, houses, rooms, dirt.

I was told that a book about nothing is about writing. Language, light, let loose, loudly, look out.

Introducing the Fret

2008-08-07T15:37:00.002Z

In my line of work, we do things called “projects”. Not so long ago, a colleague of mine asked me, “exactly how worried should I be about this project?” Hmm. I wasn’t sure what to say. Exactly? Who the hell knows? I mean, how should I even answer, _how_ worried? A lot, a little, in the middle? Not exactly exact. As I thought about this, I realized I couldn’t possibly answer without establishing a unit of measure for worry.

So I propose the “fret” as that unit. I envision frets ascending logarithmically – like the Richter scale! Each fret is 10 TIMES more worrying than the one before. After all, why mess around. You don’t invent new units of measure every day – they might as well have some oomf. So if 3 frets is like, “aw, fuck”, 4 is like, “aw, FUCK!!!” That’s about as far as you want to stray up the fret scale…

I like the “fret’ concept because in addition to the obvious, it evokes the idea of vibration. Someone who is worried can often be thought of as “vibrating at a high frequency”. As you move up the fret scale, look out, the vibrations are faster and faster, people’s voices are getting higher, and… louder….

Indeed, let us not forget amplitude. Some situations are just more sensitive than others. In fact, some situations amplify the smallest fret-inducing factor and like, jack it way up! If the volume is on 10, distortion may occur - even crazy, howling feedback storms – so look out!

Other external factors can influence the fret level. Any “high-strung” individual involved may “bend” the fret level artificially up! And, a skilled facilitator may be able to relaxthe fret level down a bit, by applying gentle pressure to the “whammy bar” of the project.

So after several days had passed, spent in quiet reflection on my discovery, I told my colleague with some confidence, “2 frets”. At last, he knew exactly how worried he should be. And, paradoxically, that made him in some greater sense, less worried. Because when we worry, we also have to worry, are we worrying the right amount, and about the right things? After all, we each only have so many frets. I could be worrying about the price of oil, when really, I should be allocating my worry to something completely different, like that weird spot on my arm! With the fret, at least we can take a quantitative approach to allocating our worry, and modern portfolio management techniques can even be applied.

Here is a quick attempt to document, or establish, various fret levels (NOTE: to parents, school teachers, and the generally squeamish, I couldn’t figure out how to describe different fret levels without resorting to blood-curdling obscenity):

1 Fret: Damn.
2 Frets: Shit. Shit.
3 Frets: Aw, fuck. (as previously noted)
4 Frets: Aw, FUCK! (as previously noted)
5 Frets: Shit-ass motherfucker FUCK!
6 Frets: Sweet fucking fuck-ass motherfucking FUCK!
7 Frets: Sweet Jesus fucking shit-ass MOTHER-FUCKER! FUCK! Christ…

For 8 frets, I am out of ideas, but I am open to suggestions.

Bottom Feeders

2008-06-06T18:13:00.009Z

Another old 4-track artefact. Also sort of teen-age/Freudian. And again, a bad encoding, clicks, pops, skips. But I like the guitars - kind of mushy - one of those happy accidents. By the way, oftentimes this doesn't work...

Vampire

2008-06-06T17:51:00.005Z

An old song. Loosely based on a Melanie Klein case study. Which one? I don't remember.

I like the guitar. The singing makes me cringe. There are some skips and pops - oh well, part of the song now.

Junk

2007-11-13T05:23:00.000Z

I’ve been thinking about junk. Junk and I, we're special together. I love to throw things away – even things that I kind of like, or have not necessarily completed their useful life.

It’s not that I don’t like junk – just the reverse. Without it, I couldn’t experience the pleasure of throwing it away.

But what is junk anyway? What makes something junk? This is something my wife and I discuss. She’s a keeper. We have a little game – she fills up various bowls, drawers, corners with junk – well I call it junk – and I laboriously, lovingly empty them out. Because you still have to look at each bit, just to make sure it really is junk.

While I’m carefully inspecting a crumpled ticket from a kid’s arcade, or an unusual but lost Lego head, or a piece of gum that is still wrapped but of uncertain provenance, I’m asking myself, “is this junk?” and so I think about that – what makes something junk? I know I said that already, but that’s exactly what happens when I’m futzing about with the junk – my mind wanders for a while, then comes back to … “what is junk anyway?”

Often it's something precious, in fact, treasure. To the junkie, nothing is more precious than junk. I know a guy who has a radio show called “Radio Junk Drawer” – the idea is, it’s not junk at all! It’s actually the best music in the world! Just a little obscure. Like something you’d find in a junk shop – a shop full of little treasures just waiting to be discovered.

What you gona do with all that junk, all that junk inside that trunk? I’m gonna get get get you drunk – get you love-drunk off my hump. Obviously, that’s some very special, treasure-y junk.

Hmm, confusing. How can this be? Junk is something becoming something else, transforming, releasing a little energy in the process. I think that’s the little jolt I feel when I chuck a long-dead cell phone charger, or an empty and cracked cassette case (for you young folks, cassettes are something they had before CDs, er, which came before MP3’s. But after vinyl. So not cool. The dumbest format ever, but also my favorite.) Junk is entropy happening, a little echo of the Big Bang, the work of the universe.

There’s a line in a Sparklehorse song: “there will come a time gigantic waves will crush the junk that i have saved”. Then, Sparklehorse guy happily sings, “la la la”. Precious junk, carefully saved, then crushed by the fury of the moon and turned into… junk. La la la...

Don't Steal My Idea

2007-11-13T05:19:00.000Z

I’ve got a really great idea. But before I tell you, you have to promise not to steal it. OK, do you promise? If you do, press “reload” 3 times, OK? That way, maybe I can prove that you admitted it was my idea, by showing people the web logs – they’ll be able to see that you reloaded 3 times, acknowledging the mineness of the following idea.

OK, hmm, one more step – send an email to thatpostwastoatllyyourideaandIwontstealit@ipromise.com,, saying, actually you don’t need to say anything in it.

OK did you do that? Then here is my idea (and if not, you can’t read this part).

Summertime, time for the summer blockbusters. A long day in the pool, frolicking in the sunshine, now it’s time for a nice cool movie. What will delight the American summer moviegoer in say July 2010? Hmm, you could go see “XMen 4: The XMen go to College”, or “Severd Hedz II: Poppin, Lockin and Choppin”, or for lighter fare, “Cavemen – the Movie” Or, you could see a film about the Tooth Fairy.

That’s right – the Tooth Fairy. We all know her (excellent, immediate brand recognition), but what do we really know about her? Who is she? Where did she come from? Why is she hoarding all those teeth? Questions lead to more questions. What, deep in her past, compels her? What is her true name? I believe people want to know - we want to hear, and view, her story

Also, where does the money come from – who is backing this fairy in her mission? Someone with deep pockets, I’ll tell you that. But I can’t tell you anything else about that part. Hint: someone you know already…

Besides, whatever her motivations, something is threatening her project, carried out from time out of mind (work the cave men in here somehow?) What, and how? Who would be against the tooth fairy? Hint: someone you may already know…

If you’re laughing stop right now because I’m serious. This project has it all, for young and old: hotness (tooth fairy is hot), violence (because it’s dark), action (there will be action), could be animated, or live action, or both, or you can’t even tell. Music (put music in it). Celebrities. Happy stuff too.

If you are in the business and interested, please send email to fuckyeahletsmakeamovieaboutthetoothfairyandiwontripyouoff@ipomise.com.

We were talking about Lindsay Lohan

2007-11-13T05:17:00.000Z

and we were like, drunk whatever but why is she driving? If I was a celebrity I’d have a driver for God’s sake. No, a big star like her I’d have TWO – why not? One of them could drive, and I’d let the other one get shitfaced – just outsource the _whole_ _thing_, and I’d sit in the back seat and play on my PSP.

Only Lindsay Lohan is a girl and therefore probably not as much into video games, Although they are making more games for girls with dolphins and puppies and stuff. I heard she likes Devendra, so maybe she’d like his new game. I had some trouble getting it to work when I first got it – I stuck the disc in my Xbox and nothing happened – but I huffed a little more butthash and it roared to life.

You’re a butterfly, and you start trapped in a giant beard and you have to escape. You have a little reciprocal saw which helps. As you chop along, look out for things in the beard. Some are good (the golden nectar globs), some are bad (mean ants that bite!), some seem good but are actually bad (chocolate – chocolate = poison to butterflies). So be careful, Lindsay.

When you get out of the beard (this is like a walkthrough), you’re in the Land of Colors – shooting along a rainbow. You have to hit the little music blobs that shoot at you down the different color tracks – it’s like a cross between Guitar Hero and Tempest. As you shoot along you see that the colors and music blobs are streaming forth from Joana Newsom’s harp. Careful! Get too close and you are sucked in and chopped to pieces by the razor sharp strings!

Whew. That was close. Anyway it goes on like that. So going back to Lindsay, she could also just be hammered in the _back_ of the car, where it’s perfectly legal.

The Language License

2007-11-09T03:11:00.000Z

As a new parent, I've been preoccupied with a common question. I know - those of you who don't have children and still think things are "interesting" will be rolling your eyes. But nonetheless, I've been puzzling over the question of what language to get for my child. Firstly, the EULAs have gotten so complicated. Even the open source languages are not exactly straightforward anymore. I had my lawyer look over several of the licenses for open source and regular commercial languages - OK I say "my lawyer" but I just found her in the yellow pages - it cost my $500 and I still don't know what the hell she was talking about. I mean, the idea that anything you say falls under the Creative Commons license - what does that even mean? And I'm not even considering the ad-supported languages - I've already ruled out Googlish and Tacodan and the rest of those - I just can't do that to my child.

Really the rational thing to do would be just to sign up for MSpanglish - seriously, it's fine, widely supported, and with the new release fairly expressive. But there are the public domain languages to consider. Sanskrit and Latin have the advantage of not being spoken at all, which has limited their appeal, so even the support is incredibly cheap. And who speaks these days anyway? Ruby is interesting but a little too trendy for me - plus the literature is not very interesting, other than of course, Dickens.

Plus there are always new languages on the way - so, do you wait, or buy now and upgrade later? I just yesterday read about a new startup, well funded, that's developing an new language - purely tonal, and each of the 372 tones the human larynx can produce are mapped to a constantly updated histogram of currently popular topics (derived from popular searches, TV listings, Twitter, and an aggregate tag cloud called a tag cumulus) - so whatever you say, or even noise you make, it's guaranteed to be relevant.

In Case You Were Wondering...

2007-11-09T03:03:00.000Z

I just wanted to note that the name of my blog is brazenly stolen from my friend Geoffrey Nutter's collectino of poems entitled
"Water's Leaves".

You should read it - it's like rubbing scented oils into your mind.

PS - I know I mistyped "collection" as "collectino". I do that a lot with "tion" words. But, I decided to leave it that way. I think it gives this post a certain Latin flair.

An Excerpt from my Upcoming Book, "Nap Power: Sleep your Way To Success"

2007-10-23T04:36:00.001Z

Friends,

This is an excerpt from my upcoming book, "Nap Power: Sleeping your Way To Success", coming out this Fall from Simon & Schuster.

The excerpt starts after where I typed this: "+++" (for the second time).

+++

You've heard of Power Napping? I'm here to tell you that that is a bunch of horseshit. Guns, Germs and Crap, people. The real deal is Nap Power. Some people think anything with "power" in the front section is cool. Wrong. Put the nap first - respect the nap, and you will be pleased with the results.

When you are ready to get serious about napping, the first question you need to answer is, "What's your nap strategy?" Answering that question, is not so important, however.

Studies have shown that napping increases your bench pressing. The average person can bench press 100 pounds. But after a nap, it's like 150 pounds! That's because the Nap Power is pressing on the bench, too.

Here is something to try - something that I have found really helps. Think of an idea - then take a nap. You'll find that the idea smushes all around with the other things in your brain (squish). I call this process "smelting". Look out bench - with smelting, you can press it like crazy.

In the workplace, napping is not always accepted - it can be seen as lazy, or as a sign of drunkenness. Well, that is so, so stupid. In reality, not just your precious "company" but all of us, our way of life, are cast into danger by the Nap Gap. Schoolchildren know that Yuri Gagarin invented Sputnik while napping. In fact, almost all of the major advances of the so-called Twentieth Century were made up by people who had at some point taken a nap.

Other cultures value napping more than our so-called Western culture. In India, nappers are considered holy and covered in flower petals while they nap. The Kohl!k*ka people of southern Kwah*tcha have over 50 words for napping in their language.

So the next time your boss gives you attitude because you are napping, think about what an asshole he or she is - then take a nap.

The Analog Internet

2007-10-23T03:10:00.000Z

There's something much better than the regular Internet -it's the analog Internet. On the analog Internet, Everything is much warmer and fuller on the analog Internet. You're probably reading this post on the regular digital internet, but if you were on the analog Internet, you'd say, "wow. Warm post!"

The Analog Internet has this effect because it runs on tubes instead of cold, integrated circuits (brr!). A computer on the analog Internet usually has a vinyl hard disk. Also, it uses different connections. Think of two cups connected by a string. Then think of a bunch of cups and strings, all tangled up. Now, put one cup in your computer's cup holder. You're on the analog Internet.

Everyone knows the regular digital internet was invented by Al Gore and Prince, when they worked together at Los Alamos. The analog internet was invented by two kids in a garage, and they Did It Yourself. It's warm like those kids, higher highs and lower lows. When you go to MySpace on the analog internet, all those people come alive and leap from the screen, shouting and dancing around!

When I was a kid, my Granpda said once "hey - come here and watch me get the latest ocean temperature measurements from Scripps." He dialed a number on the phone, and stuck the head set into the rubber fake ears attached to his computer. As a kid I thought, "oh ok, that's what you do", but later I realized how weird that was.

Someday soon, no one will remember what a modem sounded lke. "Screeeeeeeeeeeee HEwa crumbcrumbcrumbcumbs shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhfzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz".

Tuscan Milk

2007-10-19T21:40:00.001Z

Friends,

I was recently fortunate to have 2 poems accepted for publication in a well-known online magazine, the Amazon Product Review. They were running a special issue on the theme of Milk, so, as you will soon see, I quickly (but carefully) wrote these two poems. I thought for your convenience, I would reprint them here.

This is the first one:

Tuscan, tuscan milk
Husky tuscan milk
Large and in charge
Makes the other milks cry
I'm not telling you why.
From out of cow nipples
It creamily ripples
Into our hearts.
Tuscan, tuscan Milk

I also call that one "the longer one".

This is the second one:

I am as a sailor, upon seas of tuscan milk
Looking out for icebergs, I lick splishy splashes of milk from my sweaty brow, up in the crow's nast
I sail the tuscan sea, looking for a friend.

It's somewhat shorter, and also more free.

Now I know what you are probably thinking - "he's not as good as Mr Quickly." Well perhaps not. But we don't all have the wherewithall to turn pro.

Thank you for enjoying the poems.

Spaces and Tabs

2006-10-19T14:08:00.000Z

Spaces are artifacts of the transcription of phonetic speech –implicated in the syntactic web as the non-phoneme, invisibly and irreducibly demarcating the sequential chain of meaning. They are the synaptic gap across which the signal jumps, they are agents, chemical messengers. They have no quantity or value – many spaces together is absence encoding absence, a wild proliferation of meaningless demarcation, mutation immune to selection, metastasizing through the semantic chain, like a virus. They are organic, uncontrolled..

Tabs are quanta, interlocking bands of stable energies, invisible to meaning but giving rise to its very structure. Their crystalline lattices bind the sprawling strands of organic syntax into a strict logic of irreducible uncertainty. They are pure energy, pure oscillation.

Something That Has Never Been Said Before

2006-01-06T07:40:00.000Z

My intent with these posts is to express thoughts that are original - even at the expense of being intelligible, let alone intelligent. So, why not distill this object to its very essence: I am going to say something that has never been said before.

Goat paddles wag my engine string.

That's right: Goat paddles wag my engine string. I am pretty confident that those words have NEVER been joined together before. Not in any blog, telescript, novella, or marketing copy. In no love letter, ancient aramaic text, list of ingredients, text message, transcript, papal writ, or term paper. In no written, even spoken, form, and quite possibly in no internal monologue.

This is not a linguistic exploration - I am not tripping out on the synaptic gap between syntax and semantics. I am not having a Chomsky moment. I am simply saying something that has never been said before:

Goat paddles wag my engine string!

The gaseous state of money

2005-12-30T05:15:00.000Z

Although most people don't realize it, money can sublimate to a gaseous state. Gaseous money has many uses, and is widely applied - in fact, you have quite possibly of inhaled a whiff or two, unknowingly, today.

The process of "boiling" money, while not complicated, is conceptually quite different from what happens when you put the kettle on for tea. Since money is a psychological, that is to say, libidinal, substance, it is not the application of phsyical heat that causes money to boil. Rather, it is the burning of a cathectic substance, such as libido, that generates the pychic heat to boil money. Care must be taken to capture the wisps of gaseous money as they form, using an appropriate apparatus. The spent libido may then be disposed of.

Gaseous money is pumped in large quantities into luxury environments, such as quality hotels, first- or sometimes business-class airport lounges and airline cabins, and fine restaurants. The very rich can afford to pump money gas into their homes. The gas can also be digitized, and then imported into synthetic environments, such as films or music videos. The conduit that transports and emits the gaseous money must be airtight, and resistant to corrosion, as leaks in inapproriate places, such as service areas, can have unexpected results.

Gaseous money is a powerful hallucinogen, although the effects are extremely subtle. When absorbed into the nervous system, it has the effect of modulating the resonance of the libido towards a certain range of frequencies, and over time these effects can be permanent, and may elicit phsyical side effects - although not as drastic as the effect of gaseous spice on the Navigators in "Dune", for example. One so affected may permanently feel the sensation of inhabiting a luxury space, even in contradiction to their own senses and those of others around them, and they may be less receptive to other cathectic elements. Nevertheless, applied with the proper precautions, money gas is a powerful aspirant and is exceptionally useful in many marketing contexts.

Gaseous money under certain conditions may form soft, fluffy clouds, often floating or gently gliding just out of reach.

The Drums

2005-12-29T01:50:00.000Z

I believe that the drums should be a public right. Who decides which services are made publicly available in communal spaces? Whoever it is, they don't play the drums. Personally, I would rather play the drums than, for example, talk on the phone, or drink from a water fountain (yech), or dispose of whatever waste I may have on my person. Or within my person.

Subway platforms, public parks, and airport lounges are all excellent places for public use drum sets. But, without doubt, the very best place for playing drums is while sitting on the can - yet how rarely does one find a public restroom properly fitted out with drums. Yes, one could accomplish this at home, but it simply isn't practical for many people, as few residential bathrooms, especially in older homes, are large enough to accomodate a drum kit. Public "handicap accessible" bathrooms, however, are almost perfectly sized.

Corporate conference rooms are also an excellent place for drum kits - yet I have never seen one so situated.

One issue with public drumming is, what about the sticks? They could easily be lost or stolen in a public setting. I have given this some thought and have a couple of ideas. One, they could have a string or wire attached like the pens in banks. Sure, they often don't work, but drum sticks have the advantage of not needing ink. Two, people could just carry their own. I for one would be happy to do this, and even to share with fellow citizens should the need arise.

Clearly, our society doesn't consider playing the drums to be a vital activity, as we do drinking, or urinating, or talking to people who are far away. I can understand. And yet, I think there would be more harmony if, when the mood struck, you could hammer out peals of double-kick rolling metal thunder and great splintering waves of ear-shattering cymbal fury. Particularly in densely populated urban areas.

Just something for the urban planners, corporate facilities managers, and public advocates out there to consider.

She picked him up hitchhiking in Syldavia.

2005-04-05T21:49:00.000Z

White rose, cure for alcohol abuse, sonic weapon, nuclear moon rocket, powered roller skates, color TV, submarine, soda carbonation machine, clothes brushing machine, wall bed
A South American electric fish (really). The gymnotus, however, does not generate enough electric power to shock a person, as the electric eel does. For more information on weakly electric fish, visit The Animal Communication Project.
Pisco (A brandy made in the seaport of Pisco)
Spit
A thieving magpie
Wheat, mineral water from Klow, firewood, horses and violinists
Bunji Kuraki of the Yokohama Police
The Rumbabas
“How are you? It’s good to meet you matey.”
Most of it missed by 48,000 kilometers. One piece reached earth.
February 22, 23 and 24
It is the Arumbaya fetish with the broken ear
So they could arrest him
Her accompanist, Igor Wagner and her maid, Irma
Eih bennek, eih blavek: “If you gather thistles, expect prickles.” More on the Syldavian language: Syldavian.
Cuthbert
Archibald
Bowler hats and walking sticks
“Danger awaits the one who dares to poke his nose in others’ affairs.”