Terror has a new face
You'll find some unique Jack O'Lantern stencils at Curse of the Zombie Pumpkins! - pumpkin carving patterns. (The site seems to be loading slowly now--even via broadband--as the holiday approaches.)
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Rain
Out here is no shelter:
cold stones only, gray and wet,
and an atmosphere of filmy liquid.
The clouds churn
odd figments, a slow procession
of ghosts on the blurred streets
finding their snaky paths
under black bats harassed by a wind
that respects no human, no tree.
Dripping branches deliver slow torture
even in a dry respite,
dropping tiny shocks on the scalp
or inside the collar, running
chilled fingers along the spine,
pulling the mind back
to the serrated moment
and those humid tales
of drowning waters
that fill damp newspapers.
(Inspired by ten days of nonstop rain earlier this month)
Rain
Out here is no shelter:
cold stones only, gray and wet,
and an atmosphere of filmy liquid.
The clouds churn
odd figments, a slow procession
of ghosts on the blurred streets
finding their snaky paths
under black bats harassed by a wind
that respects no human, no tree.
Dripping branches deliver slow torture
even in a dry respite,
dropping tiny shocks on the scalp
or inside the collar, running
chilled fingers along the spine,
pulling the mind back
to the serrated moment
and those humid tales
of drowning waters
that fill damp newspapers.
(Inspired by ten days of nonstop rain earlier this month)
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Quotables
Quotables
Life leads the thoughtful man on a path of many windings.
Now the course is checked, now it runs straight again.
Here winged thoughts may pour freely forth in words,
There the heavy burden of knowledge must be shut away in silence.
But when two people are at one in their inmost hearts,
They shatter even the strength of iron or of bronze.
And when two people understand each other in their inmost hearts,
Their words are sweet and strong, like the fragrance of orchids.
--I Ching
Sooner or later a person begins to notice that everything that happens to him is perfect, relates directly to who he is, had to happen, was meant to happen, plays its little role in fulfilling his destiny.
--Paul Williams
Life leads the thoughtful man on a path of many windings.
Now the course is checked, now it runs straight again.
Here winged thoughts may pour freely forth in words,
There the heavy burden of knowledge must be shut away in silence.
But when two people are at one in their inmost hearts,
They shatter even the strength of iron or of bronze.
And when two people understand each other in their inmost hearts,
Their words are sweet and strong, like the fragrance of orchids.
--I Ching
Sooner or later a person begins to notice that everything that happens to him is perfect, relates directly to who he is, had to happen, was meant to happen, plays its little role in fulfilling his destiny.
--Paul Williams
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Surrealist Compliments For All
Your affluent effluent drives even the most zeal-minded to imbibe
Everyone needs a compliment now and then, but it's hard to come up with something original. You might try some of the novel extolations below on your friends and rivals. If you deliver them fast enough, they might not even notice the 100 percent inanity content.
"You foment graciously, as ever any dying monster did rot."
"Wheals and boils come forth as testament to your fine sense of haut couture."
"Your cleverness ferments meat without the need of oxygen."
"Woe is me, for I must forever more huddle, unminded, in the dark shadow of your undeserved engine of procreation."
"Come, let me gnaw your fingernails that I may absorb and lose myself in the wise and gritty detritus that is you."
"I find your eye sockets to be a wondrous amusement park filled with neo-plastic pleasures and oncogenic delights."
"Your sweet voice is like the snap of a bra strap upon a sunburnt back."
"The sand runes crossing your divided consciousness do speak of contemptuous cardinals setting a Spanish village ablaze."
"You turn the atmosphere wild with currents of vitriol when you smile at the passing insects."
You can generate more of these at the Surrealist Compliment Generator.
Everyone needs a compliment now and then, but it's hard to come up with something original. You might try some of the novel extolations below on your friends and rivals. If you deliver them fast enough, they might not even notice the 100 percent inanity content.
"You foment graciously, as ever any dying monster did rot."
"Wheals and boils come forth as testament to your fine sense of haut couture."
"Your cleverness ferments meat without the need of oxygen."
"Woe is me, for I must forever more huddle, unminded, in the dark shadow of your undeserved engine of procreation."
"Come, let me gnaw your fingernails that I may absorb and lose myself in the wise and gritty detritus that is you."
"I find your eye sockets to be a wondrous amusement park filled with neo-plastic pleasures and oncogenic delights."
"Your sweet voice is like the snap of a bra strap upon a sunburnt back."
"The sand runes crossing your divided consciousness do speak of contemptuous cardinals setting a Spanish village ablaze."
"You turn the atmosphere wild with currents of vitriol when you smile at the passing insects."
You can generate more of these at the Surrealist Compliment Generator.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Real (Humerous) Tombstone Epitaphs
Die Laughing?
Here lies a collection of humerous epitaphs from real tombstones. A sample:
(via The Presurfer)
Here lies a collection of humerous epitaphs from real tombstones. A sample:
Here lies the body of our Anna
Done to death by a banana
It wasn't the fruit that laid her low
But the skin of the thing that made her go.
(via The Presurfer)
Quote of the Day
Quote of the Day
A gem from Liz Smith's column today:
"...And here's this ripe quote from dynamo Judith Regan, one of my favorite mythological moderns, in that if she didn't exist we'd have to invent her:
Miss Regan admits she is perhaps 'sometimes a little short' with those who work for her."
A gem from Liz Smith's column today:
"...And here's this ripe quote from dynamo Judith Regan, one of my favorite mythological moderns, in that if she didn't exist we'd have to invent her:
There are ruthless, horrifying people anywhere there's money and power, whether it's politics or Hollywood or the garment business or Wall Street. Wherever there's money, power, and glamour, you're gonna get egomaniacal, narcissistically disturbed people.
Miss Regan admits she is perhaps 'sometimes a little short' with those who work for her."
Monday, October 17, 2005
Word of the Day: suilline
Word of the Day
suilline (adj)
Of or relating to pigs
Little Freida's suilline appetite surprised everyone at the table.
suilline (adj)
Of or relating to pigs
Little Freida's suilline appetite surprised everyone at the table.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Free Money
Free Money
I looked down and there it was: a small, folded piece of green and gray paper on the sidewalk, with the number 20 printed on one corner. The Victorian font made it look like a twenty-dollar bill, but I doubted it. Probably a coupon or an advertisement for some 900-number phone-sex scam, I thought, picking it up (just in case). I unfolded it, and there he was: Andrew Jackson with his shock of wind-swept hair, looking more like a mad scientist than a 19th-century president. A real twenty -- or was it? I held it up to the sun, half expecting it to be counterfeit. The ghostly little hologram of Jackson's face appeared. Genuine. What luck! Right away, as I stuffed it into my pocket, I began to feel guilty. Who had dropped it? Probably some cash-strapped single mom with a squalling baby to feed. I thought about spending it, saving it, donating it to charity, or even dropping it. Surely someone more deserving than middle-class me would find it, someone who regularly stooped to pick up all the lost pennies I was too lazy to retrieve from the sidewalk. Before I could decide, I arrived back home from my walk. Ambivalence, my old enemy, had triumphed again. Only this time I was $20 richer in defeat. For now, the improbable bill resides in my wallet, in my back pocket. I'm sitting on it, warming it, thinking about it, but I'll probably forget about it sooner or later. And it will disappear, like all the others, into some merchant's cash register. Easy go.
I looked down and there it was: a small, folded piece of green and gray paper on the sidewalk, with the number 20 printed on one corner. The Victorian font made it look like a twenty-dollar bill, but I doubted it. Probably a coupon or an advertisement for some 900-number phone-sex scam, I thought, picking it up (just in case). I unfolded it, and there he was: Andrew Jackson with his shock of wind-swept hair, looking more like a mad scientist than a 19th-century president. A real twenty -- or was it? I held it up to the sun, half expecting it to be counterfeit. The ghostly little hologram of Jackson's face appeared. Genuine. What luck! Right away, as I stuffed it into my pocket, I began to feel guilty. Who had dropped it? Probably some cash-strapped single mom with a squalling baby to feed. I thought about spending it, saving it, donating it to charity, or even dropping it. Surely someone more deserving than middle-class me would find it, someone who regularly stooped to pick up all the lost pennies I was too lazy to retrieve from the sidewalk. Before I could decide, I arrived back home from my walk. Ambivalence, my old enemy, had triumphed again. Only this time I was $20 richer in defeat. For now, the improbable bill resides in my wallet, in my back pocket. I'm sitting on it, warming it, thinking about it, but I'll probably forget about it sooner or later. And it will disappear, like all the others, into some merchant's cash register. Easy go.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Sweden's new funeral rite - bodies freeze-dried, powdered and made into tree mulch
Buried, cremated or freeze-dried?
Ashes to ashes, dust to mulch? In Sweden it will soon be possible to have your corpse freeze-dried, powdered and made into tree mulch, says the UK's Telegraph. "Swedes will ... have the chance to bury their dead according to the pioneering method, which involves freezing the body, dipping it in liquid nitrogen and gently vibrating it to shatter it into powder. This is put into a small box made of potato or corn starch and placed in a shallow grave, where it will disintegrate within six to 12 months. People are to be encouraged to plant a tree on the grave. It would feed off the compost formed from the body, to emphasise the organic cycle of life."
Good idea. Sometimes I think I'd be much happier as a tree. I'm sure the Druids would approve.
(via Yet Another Damn Blog)
Ashes to ashes, dust to mulch? In Sweden it will soon be possible to have your corpse freeze-dried, powdered and made into tree mulch, says the UK's Telegraph. "Swedes will ... have the chance to bury their dead according to the pioneering method, which involves freezing the body, dipping it in liquid nitrogen and gently vibrating it to shatter it into powder. This is put into a small box made of potato or corn starch and placed in a shallow grave, where it will disintegrate within six to 12 months. People are to be encouraged to plant a tree on the grave. It would feed off the compost formed from the body, to emphasise the organic cycle of life."
Good idea. Sometimes I think I'd be much happier as a tree. I'm sure the Druids would approve.
(via Yet Another Damn Blog)
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Two Fat Men
Benched in the park, not yet engorged,
two larded men grin and waggle their jowls,
each flaunting a prosperous planet
under his taut shirt.
Fingers plump as sausages
rattle the wrappers.
Sugar-stuffed, well-oiled,
these porkers chew over an amplitude,
savoring the aftertaste of some rich dish,
a luxuriance spread
and swollen to the pornographic.
Tired hearts must bubble
under useless porticos of flesh,
ticking off the days
of succulence and suet.
Meanwhile, a gaunt squirrel
devours each crumb that drops
from its copious heaven,
while pigeons strut and adulate
these insatiable Buddhas.
Two Fat Men
Benched in the park, not yet engorged,
two larded men grin and waggle their jowls,
each flaunting a prosperous planet
under his taut shirt.
Fingers plump as sausages
rattle the wrappers.
Sugar-stuffed, well-oiled,
these porkers chew over an amplitude,
savoring the aftertaste of some rich dish,
a luxuriance spread
and swollen to the pornographic.
Tired hearts must bubble
under useless porticos of flesh,
ticking off the days
of succulence and suet.
Meanwhile, a gaunt squirrel
devours each crumb that drops
from its copious heaven,
while pigeons strut and adulate
these insatiable Buddhas.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Anxiety Culture: Family Values Generator
"Stop being infantile, you exasperating little milksop . . ."
Anxiety Culture describes itself as "a web magazine with a wealth of ideas and gimmicks for navigating the crazy, paranoid, work-obsessed, media crapulent times we live in." The site's Family Values Generator offers a wealth of parental invective (like the sample above) at the click of a button. Might come in handy as a frustration reliever with the holidays approaching.
Anxiety Culture describes itself as "a web magazine with a wealth of ideas and gimmicks for navigating the crazy, paranoid, work-obsessed, media crapulent times we live in." The site's Family Values Generator offers a wealth of parental invective (like the sample above) at the click of a button. Might come in handy as a frustration reliever with the holidays approaching.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Quote of the Day: Lennon
Quote of the Day
"Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted."
--John Lennon
I imagine this is what he would say about blogging.
Friday, October 07, 2005
haiku error messages
Laugh or Cry??
A clever someone has written a series of computer error messages in haiku. Sample:
Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.
A clever someone has written a series of computer error messages in haiku. Sample:
Windows NT crashed.
I am the Blue Screen of Death.
No one hears your screams.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Word of the Day: gelastic
Word of the Day
gelastic (adj)
Provoking laughter
Only Desmond's gelastic comments made the tedious seminar bearable.
gelastic (adj)
Provoking laughter
Only Desmond's gelastic comments made the tedious seminar bearable.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Quote of the Day: Steve Martin
Quote of the Day
"Writing is one of the most easy, pain-free, and happy ways to pass the time in all the arts. For example, right now I am sitting in my rose garden and typing on my new computer. Each rose represents a story, so I'm never at a loss for what to write. I just look deep into the heart of the rose and read its story and write it down through typing, which I enjoy anyway. I could be typing "kjfiu joewmv jiw" and would enjoy it as much as typing words that actually make sense. I simply relish the movement of my fingers on the keys. Sometimes, it is true, agony visits the head of a writer. At these moments, I stop writing and relax with a coffee at my favorite restaurant, knowing that words can be changed, rethought, fiddled with, and, of course, ultimately denied. Painters don't have that luxury. If they go to a coffee shop, their paint dries into a hard mass."
--Steve Martin, "Writing Is Easy"
(via whiskey river)
"Writing is one of the most easy, pain-free, and happy ways to pass the time in all the arts. For example, right now I am sitting in my rose garden and typing on my new computer. Each rose represents a story, so I'm never at a loss for what to write. I just look deep into the heart of the rose and read its story and write it down through typing, which I enjoy anyway. I could be typing "kjfiu joewmv jiw" and would enjoy it as much as typing words that actually make sense. I simply relish the movement of my fingers on the keys. Sometimes, it is true, agony visits the head of a writer. At these moments, I stop writing and relax with a coffee at my favorite restaurant, knowing that words can be changed, rethought, fiddled with, and, of course, ultimately denied. Painters don't have that luxury. If they go to a coffee shop, their paint dries into a hard mass."
--Steve Martin, "Writing Is Easy"
(via whiskey river)
Random Acts of Poetry
Random Acts of Poetry
Indian Summer
You know what I mean:
cracked flagstones, brown pools shaded by oaks,
old faces and jaded eyes,
children running barefoot and shirtless,
sun-drunk, sipping the day's thaw
like soda through a straw.
The bronze eagle stuck on her stone pillar
watches everything, her talons scratching the air.
My cap with the long brim
flies off in a blur. Our sneakers
soak up the ooze; dogs dash
after invisible cats.
The wind knows what's coming.
I taste barbecue smoke, I think.
Overhead, a leaf-strewn sky
flaunts its gauze and blue,
swirling streamers in a slow-motion frenzy.
We're stupidly happy.
The sidewalk ends in a tousled park,
all blown to seed,
where piles of damp leaves decay in the heat.
They say frost tomorrow. Meanwhile,
around the spiky hedges we wander
nostalgic as geezers.
Indian Summer
You know what I mean:
cracked flagstones, brown pools shaded by oaks,
old faces and jaded eyes,
children running barefoot and shirtless,
sun-drunk, sipping the day's thaw
like soda through a straw.
The bronze eagle stuck on her stone pillar
watches everything, her talons scratching the air.
My cap with the long brim
flies off in a blur. Our sneakers
soak up the ooze; dogs dash
after invisible cats.
The wind knows what's coming.
I taste barbecue smoke, I think.
Overhead, a leaf-strewn sky
flaunts its gauze and blue,
swirling streamers in a slow-motion frenzy.
We're stupidly happy.
The sidewalk ends in a tousled park,
all blown to seed,
where piles of damp leaves decay in the heat.
They say frost tomorrow. Meanwhile,
around the spiky hedges we wander
nostalgic as geezers.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
The Willing Mind - Historic Prints & Photographs
Ocular Confections
The Willing Mind is an online gallery of historic prints and photographs, with an emphasis on popular culture. It appears to be only partly finished, but already includes some intriguing and downright kooky graphics. Fun.
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