Boxhead

Don't ask me why he misspells tired.

I had a period when I was young where I realized that if you smashed up a certain berry we had growing around the house (it had a white flesh) and some fake blood, you could make something that looked like a horrific flesh trauma on your G.I. Joe dolls. Gut shots were particularly suited to this. So for a while there (I'm sure it was around Halloween) all my make believe battles would have horrible corpses strewn around after the end (including amputees. You could disassemble a G.I. Joe, it was just a rubber band connecting the parts. Then you could theoretically put them back together, but their hips were always a little loose after that. It wasn't the favorites that had their legs blown off usually)

When I used to play with cars, they'd race around for a while then inevitably get into huge fiery crashes. After the BWOOSH explosion noise I would always have a time where the wind would blow mournfully over the twisted metal remains and obviously mangled and burnt beyond all recognition bodies of the imaginary drivers.

At one point I was in a doctor's office and I saw a kid do the exact same thing. I felt a kinship.

Nothing new, but I figure if any of my friends haven't seen this I'm doing a disservice.

In defense, I ask what if you were documented at 19?

So, the girlfriend's son, as part of his creative writing endeavors, is vaguely involved with a high school literary magazine, called Aerie. Cool. So they had a little get together poetry reading to raise money. Cool. I'm expected to go. Not so cool.

Don't get me wrong. I like poetry (check a few posts back, when I stuck a few poems of mine on here). It's just that watching local poetry readings fills me with a level of cringe I didn't know I was capable of. My girlfriend kept asking me if I was all right cause I guess I kept making involuntary faces or I would be holding my head in my hands and looking very intently at the ground.

High school poetry reading. Oh god, how earnest we were then. We all felt we had the world to say. Really I think it was the earnestness of everyone that was killing me. The high school girl who had never left Missoula reading her poem about Africa with accompanying bongo. Much effusive description. Sensual description of flowing rivers equaling women's hips. Dark jungles. High school girls LOVE the sensual poem I've learned. Erotic imagery left and right. Yay for discovering you got them urges.

I've never particularly liked poetry about things you don't know. Of course, with high school kids in Missoula that's gonna be a lot. I liked the poem by the high school girl discussing swimming at the local water hole and realizing she had the boys wrapped around her finger. Stupid levels of awareness in her. She scares me.

The poem about massacres in Darfur? Ow, ow, ow, ow.

The poem about cinnamon toast cooking in the kitchen. Fine, if a little sweet. (heh)

Also, please stop the sing-song cadence of reading poetry. Up and down, loud then soft. The Creative Writing director of UofM (A transplant from NEW YORK CITY) read her poetry in that exact same way. You couldn't tell when the poem was over cause every phrase ended the exact same trailing off way. It was always a strange wait after the end and before applause started.

Oh well, I'm sure the teachers kept saying to the kids, "Write about what you know!" And the kids kept saying to themselves, "I hate my stupid boring normal life. Why would I write about that. That's for MySpace."

And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods — the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.
—H. P. Lovecraft, Nyarlathotep

So, Team Fortress 2. Huuuuuuuge fun. I think I've logged in like 90 hours on it total. A FPS that you can feel like you're contributing to even if you're not a person who plays 5 hours a day, every day. Much about team tactics, holding down choke points, etc. If you just can't seem to get a cross-hair on a fool to save your life, play an engineer or a medic. (play the medic. too many people play the engineers.) Also the Orange box it comes in (though I think now they're selling them seperately?) has Portal. I think you've heard of that one.

So here is a horribly, horribly cute YouTube about a non-FPS'r playing TF 2. It is funnier if you've played a little TF2 so as to catch a couple of the more subtle cute-isms. But I think it's fairly universal.




I particularly like it when she apologizes for killing people.

Well, I got to see Obama at his rally here in Missoula this morning. Yay. I gotta admit, I eat up pretty much everything he says. If you wish to hear a point by point cap of how I agree on his policies, feel free to email me.

Anyways, he has humble personality to spare. A fairly charismatic but not slick speaker. One of my favorite points in the speech was when he was discussing how he was willing to talk to evil, evil countries.

"So, when I said this.. Congress and the media and everyone was all in a tizzy, saying 'You can't do that!' And I said 'Yes, I can.'"

Imagine it delivered perfectly.

The line was hugely long. Get 8000 people or so all lined up and it looks like this:

From the Adams Center..


Curving around the Music Building and doubling up again on the and then curving back again..


Down past the Gallagher Business Building...


And down to Arthur Ave.


It then curved around one more time past the Business Building to 6th Street. Fairly happy people all around.

Inside, I made a bad choice of my seating. Originally I was sat around the back of the podium. I said to myself, "Hell I don't want to just see the back of his head.." But I would have been really close. I could have gotten a super nice shot as he walked in. Instead I wandered around to the front. Nice and centered , but a lot of people had the same idea and I ended way further back than my lens was happy with. Anyways, the two half-assed pictures I did get.




Yes that man on the stage is Obama, not some strange fire wisp in a suit.


It was a good time, an hour went by in a flash. I got all happy, clapped, felt that 'by God, this man may change things'. He's getting my vote. Hope some of his promises come through.

Good webcomic...

Here's the start: The Abominable Charles Christopher

Let yourself go at least 5 in to get the feel of it.