A Different Kind of Hipster

Don't worry about locking up your PBR and ironic Lionel Ritchie albums - this is a different sort of hipster. Think of it as a fannypack with a training wheel. Personally, I think of it as a portable Gene Pool Isolation Unit.

In other news, the oddly named Fatrobot featured perhaps the best video I've ever seen. It has everything, including a little gold vest and moccasins:



My favorite part of the video is this guy, who is obviously enjoying himself immensely:



Finally, The Girl and I spied a MOUNTAIN UNICYCLE this weekend. I'm still not sure if I should be impressed.

They Are Infected....WITH RAGE!!!

First of all, apologies for the egregious use of exclamation points, but they were required. Only extra punctuation can adequately convey the level of fear conjured by an english scientist with a mouth full of bad teeth and a heart full of dread at the thought that his RAGE INFECTED monkeys would release their dire seed into the world.

Yes, I watched 28 Days Later last night. As zombie movies go, it was pretty good. Ok, technically, they're not zombies, they're humans infected with RAGE. They differ from zombies in other crucial ways as well. For instance, rather than dying, the critters in 28 Days Later go from Regular Folks to Crazed Red-Eyed Killing Machines very quickly. There's no shambling transition from death to undeath; it's 0 to KILL in about 30 seconds flat, which leads to an interesting divergence from the typical zombie flick, namely, the amount of time a character has to mourn his/her friend/family member before being required to hack/shoot/flambe their newly homicidal pal.

Normally you'd have your requisite minute or two to agonize over whether They Are Really Gone, and to plumb the depths of the character's Luke Skywalker Moment: is there still good in them, or have they really been consumed by the Dark Side?

In other news, a zombie Star Wars movie would be awesome. ZOMBIE CHEWBACCA. I think that's all I need to say.

Reconnecting and Letting Go

I've just returned from a very refreshing, relaxing and SHORT trip up to Mammoth Lakes, CA. Which happens to be my favorite place in the whole world. True, it's a 4-5 hour drive through what is mostly a featureless desert landscape populated only by joshua trees, scrubby foliage, and billboards every 20 miles or so advertising the "BEST BEEF JERKY EVER, WE'RE NOT EVEN KIDDING, ONLY 75 MILES AHEAD!!!"

It was as perfect up there as it always is. I went up there with The Girl, so now she knows why it's my favorite place. I also scattered Maisie's ashes in Red's Lake, where she liked to swim. Shortly thereafter, we met a little border collie named Bandit who very sweetly brought us a ball to throw for her. It was perfect timing. I'd finally let Maisie go, and then along came Bandit to tell us that there's always room to make new friends and have new adventures.

In Which Our Hero Juggles a Grapefruit, 32 Pennies and a Cranky Wizard

Just a quick post to inform you of a new addition to my sidebar, Fatrobot. Fatrobot is quite possibly the world's first robot with schizophrenia and an unholy fascination with late 1800's bicycle advertisements and christian wrestling. This works out well for me, because now I have a source to satisfy my (unholy?) addiction to Jesus Beards.



In other news, eeeewwwwwwww.

We Apologize for the Inconvenience

Sorry for the lack of updates, folks - things have gotten worse in WorkLand over the last few days. I'm seriously considering a transfer to a different department, even if it's not even in my field.

I don't even know what department I would go to - all I know is that my job is making me very unhappy at the moment and that needs to change.

In other news, the wonderful Fluid Pudding has decided to throw in the (allegedly soggy) towel for reasons unspecified. She has been kind enough to give us a month's notice, though, so I strongly suggest that you visit her site every day, several times a day. Appreciate a good thing while you still can.

Finally, tell me something amusing. I could use a laugh right now.

And no fair telling me to look in the mirror. That's too easy.

HoboSnax and the Power of Noise

Dear Readers,

It's been a pretty good couple of days. I continue to make progress on my short story, and I'm pretty pleased with it so far. My writing routine has been varied, but consistently productive. I've found myself thinking about environments, and which ones are best suited for writing. I have come to no proper conclusion. Isaac Asimov (who I have never read, despite him being the de-facto Grandaddy of Sci-Fi) used to set up his typewriter in the middle of stores and other noisy environments, because he found that the background noise helped him concentrate. Of course, that was before the advent of headphones as portable isolation chambers, but that's beside the point.

I've found that I require music in order to write effectively. Not background noise with its random, assymetrical soundtrack - I need something with patterns, sounds that build on previous layers, that have a linear progression toward a destination. It helps me focus, it helps to keep me moving.

Different music is good for different types of writing. If I'm working on something that's cold and descriptive, I might queue up Marilyn Manson's Mechanical Animals. The sound is logical, atmospheric, has a hard edge, and is almost totally without emotion. Scenes with warmth or passion might require Goldfrapp, Air, or maybe even Death Cab for Cutie. The Faint are my go-to guys for most action scenes, and Kelly Joe Phelps and Merz are good for introspection and remembering.

The more I write, the more I find the patterns and routines that work for me. The increasing familiarity of the routines makes me more comfortable, and allows me to slip into "the zone" more readily. I find that I'm not wasting as much time staring off into space, tapping my pen against my teeth, doodling in the margins.

Enough of that. I've been having good luck, but others have not. The Girl lost her luggage in Atlanta this morning, and Birdmonster lost their transmission in Arizona. This tells me that places that are hot and start with the letter A are to Be Avoided. So cross your fingers that the luggage gets found and that the Birdmonsters acquire a new van with a mininum of fuss and money.

Finally, I should mention that I read a number of webcomics on a daily basis, because yes, I am a huge nerd. One of my favorites is Dinosaur Comics, which is a) extremely funny, and b) set up in a genius way. The graphics are always the same - six panels that feature a series of clip-art dinosaurs smashing things. Since the graphics never change, the focus is on the writing, which is pretty much always hilarious. A recent installment features Hobosnacks. This is dangerously close to my trademarked HoboSnax, but I will refrain from legal action on the grounds that my definition of hobo snacks is different from that in the comic. I am a Cool Ranch Dorito man, myself...

I Joined the ACLU Today

I don't usually get into political stuff here, but I figure this is kind of important. I'm sure you've probably heard that as a result of an ACLU lawsuit, a federal judge has struck down the Bush Administration's wiretapping operation.

Bush doesn't particularly like it when other people oppose him, so he has a history of a) not informing others who would hold him to account for his actions, or b) issuing "signing statements" that basically say that since he's the president, he doesn't have to follow any law that he doesn't want to.

Case in point is McCain's Anti-Torture amendment to a Defense Department bill passed by both houses earlier this year. The goal of the amendment was to close all of the existing loopholes that would allow the military to torture detainees.

The White House tried to deep six it, and when that failed, and it came time to sign the bill, Bush added a signing statement saying, and I quote, "The executive branch shall construe [the law] in a manner consistent with the constitutional authority of the President . . . as Commander in Chief. [This approach] will assist in achieving the shared objective of the Congress and the President . . . of protecting the American people from further terrorist attacks."

The Bush Administration has a history of attempting to consolidate power based on the assumption that we are "at war", and that he has supreme executive power due to his role as the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces. As Monty Python told us, "supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony". Just replace "aquatic" with "signing" and we're on the same page.

Point is that personal freedoms that we've sort of taken for granted are being systematically removed by an administration that thinks it has MY best interests in mind, and will do just about anything in its ever-increasing power to "protect" me. I sort of think that's something that should be decided through a more democratic process than the brain of "The Decider".

So I joined the ACLU. Yes, they defend total scumbags like Fred Phelps and NAMBLA. As disgusting as they are, they have as much right to say their piece as I do to say mine. The ACLU defends them because they are covered by the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. As we all are, including Bush. The ACLU has just sent him a reminder of that, I'm grateful that there's an organization willing to stand up for me. Congress certainly isn't.

Birdmonster Attacks!

Last night I had the extreme pleasure of not only seeing the excellent Birdmonster play, but I also got to meet Justin (Corkscrew Biscuit Thrower), who plays bass and banjo and (depending on durability) the tamborine. He also is responsible for their blog, which is a daily stop in my unceasing effort to avoid doing Things That Are Productive.

Anyway. We smoked some, talked some, and I had to tell him (once again) that there are no koala bears in Austria. I also shot my first batch of concert footage with The Big Camera, and here are the results.

Note: Jax from Rock Insider took better pictures, and you can see them here.

Breaking News: TSA Helper Monkey Screening Guidelines

Rejoice, those of you with Helper Monkeys! Not only will the TSA allow your monkey on a plane, they also have rigorous guidelines to help TSA authorities properly screen your screechin' little buddy.

You will be pleased to note that at no point will authorities touch your monkey. Unfortunately for the rest of us, the screener may ask that the monkey's diaper be removed for inspection. Presumably to check for any contraband nail polish or hair gel.

Tax dollars: I hardly knew thee.

Slow Day

For some reason, the bulk of my hits in the last 24 hours have come from google searches for "naked hobo". Is there a demand? Are there actually people out there who find scabs and matted armpit hair sexy? And bunions? Any bunion lovers out there?

They all seem to be coming from the midwest. I am both baffled AND perplexed.

Rest assured, dear readers - you will never see a photo spread of this hobo on a bearskin rug, saucy or otherwise.

In other news, someone said "What's the word?" to me the other day. To which I responded, to my continuing shame, "'Bird', apparently."

Sigh.

More Than the Sum

Lots of writey writerness going on. I've decided that I need to get off my tuchas and start writing more. Seriously. There are several reasons for this.

Most importanly, "Writer" is what I've always wanted to be. Except for that brief stint in 2nd grade when I wanted to drive a garbage truck, I've known in my bones that writing is what I'm wired for. I'm not a sports guy; throw a ball at me and my instinct is to duck. I'm not a math or science guy; I appreciate beakers and fruitflies and whatnot, but if you put me in a lab I'd end up mixing things together until they exploded, and I'd be terribly happy about that.

For a long time, I was pretty sure that my skills didn't amount to much. I knew a lot about a lot of things, but I didn't know (or care) enough about anything "big" to make a career out of it. What I'm good at is noticing things, daydreaming, and following threads of thought to bizarre conclusions.

Recent events at work have made me realize that I can't really rely on my company for my future. Sure, it's a great company, and I've got a nice little nest egg from working there for 9 years, but my department is not what it once was, and I don't enjoy what I do nearly as much as I used to.

My main difficulty with writing has always been discipline. ALWAYS. Story of my life, really. Sometimes I need a swift kick in the ass to get my motor running, and I think that's finally happened. I've managed to shift the mental gears to a place where I can get actual writing done while continuing to work my day job. Because you know, I'm not stupid - I know I'm not yet at a point where I can quit my job and make my living by writing down what comes out of my head. I can see that destination in the distance, though. I just found out that I'll be getting another paid writing gig. There's this Russian company that asked me to write a few columns for them about Pocket PCs, and after I did that, they asked me to write the Help documentation. It was actually a fun job. I got to be snarky and sarcastic and make stupid jokes, and they paid me good money for it, and now they want me to do it again.

It's an incredible confidence booster.

So. To jump back into writing fiction, I decided to start out with something familiar, to ease myself back into things. I've got a story idea that I've been working on for years now. I've built a world, populated it with characters, have outlined it several times, re-plotted it several times, and have so far failed to do anything with it that satisfies me. I think that I don't know the characters well enough yet. I don't know what they're going to do in a lot of situations, because I don't inhabit them yet. I haven't gotten into their skin, seen through their eyes. I haven't noticed what they notice.

That being the case, I've decided to write a series of short stories based in that world, using those characters. Little science fiction/humor/mystery stories. I've already got a good start to the first one. See, there's this guy, and someone stole his arm...

Come on, you know you want to read it.

p.s.: it also helps that i have a new journal. it is handmade, is festooned with mustaches, guns and combs, and it is completely awesome. thanks, The Girl!

Space Nakji's Guide to (Some of) Europe

Space Nakji is one of the best writers I know, and one of the best writers I've read. And I've read a lot. She writes the way I wish I could. Graceful, articulate, and goddamn fucking funny. You want a taste? Here's a snippet. Visit often - you won't regret it.

"Odense: Home of Hans Christian Anderson, your girlfriend’s parents, and three very sneaky little cats who will trick you into feeding them non-stop until their bellies are stuffed with cat chow and their owners come home to laugh at you for falling for their tricks. Also home to the world’s most sinister and byzantine version of Settlers of Catan. You haven’t been that stressed out since that time when you were in the middle of taking the computerized GRE and had a complete mental breakdown when a second analytical section followed immediately on the heels of the first except that the questions were way more harder and none of the answers were even remotely close to being right and you thought you were in some elaborate and well-designed hell and could literally feel your spirit breaking inside of you like a delicate porcelain figurine of a baby deer being crushed under the cowboy boot of some loud annoying guy from Texas until you suddenly realized it was the experimental section and didn’t count towards your final score anyway."

Things of Note

First of all, we here at the Hobo News Network (HNN) are sad to see that one of our favorite stops on the Interweb is going on a brief hiatus. Birdmonster is going on tour, and there was some mention of a banjo trip to Reno (maybe he's going to play banjo at a man, just to watch him cry?), and we know that there will be a lot of sitting around in vans and staring at Roadside Attractions (including The Thing, which (we are told) is a hedgehog named Tim). So visit Birdmonster, dig around in the archives, and marvel at the excellent punctuation and descriptions of croissants.

In other News, a woman in Florida cold cocked an otter. No word on whether she moonlights as a dolphin stabber on the weekends.

And finally, a scientist person has examined his own ear wax, and, after a series of tests and many fancy looking graphs, has found it to be "a greasy mess". We here at HNN heartily endorse this sort of experimentation. In fact, we are all (except Noodle Neck Ned) available for highly unethical and dangerous medical experiments for a nominal charge, a can of Schlitz, and a blanket without too many crabs on it.

BACON MAPLE BAR

I have a new goal in life. Thanks, Space Nakji!

Fluid Pudding, I think this might just trump your pig candy.

p.s.: i like how the "Cock n Balls" says "tasty". that's classy.

Highs and Lows

Ok, I'm back. The last few weeks have been rather stressful, to say the least. I don't want to go into it much (mostly because I'm sick of thinking about it), but I've realized that unless I want to have a heart attack, I need to remember that work is just work, and that there's no upside to having it leech into my personal life and erode my health and happiness.

On the positive side, I had a fantastic weekend with The Girl. Went to a festival thingie down in San Diego, had ceviche and a chimichanga in a little place in Cardiff by the Sea, and spent all day Sunday just recharging, re-centering, and relaxing. The ginormous pancake breakfast on Sunday was quite helpful, and I'll be eating bacon for a week. Well, ok, maybe just tonight.

I really like bacon.

I like being happy more, but bacon just makes everything better.