This is a very special post, my Tender Lumplings, for a couple of reasons. The first of which is that this is the first installment of A Night In The Kingsbury Run to be composed and posted on a Mac. Yes, I have joined the dark side and bought an Apple. It's not that bad really. Actually, it is pretty darn cool. I'm digging it a lot. I bought it for one specific reason, to make music. Everyone said if you want to record music you should have a Mac so I broke down and got a used one. But now I'm digging it so much I might just switch to it for everything. Maybe. We will see.
The second thing that makes this post so special is that it is post number 42. And I shouldn't have to tell you why that is important. But I will explain anyway just in case some of you are not in on the secret.
You see, 42 is the most important number in the galaxy. It isn't the funniest number, that is 37. And it isn't the loneliest number, that is the number one, or so I've heard. No, 42 is the most important number because it is the answer. The answer to what? Well, everything. It is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. The only problem is... we don't know the question. You see, when the great computer Deep Thought was created they asked it what the answer was. So it did as it was asked and found the answer: 42. But without the question, the answer was a little hard to understand. So another computer had to be built to figure out the question. But it was destroyed before it could complete it's program.
So I think we should help. What do you think the question might be? Let's play the ultimate game of Jeopardy. We have the answer, now let's find the question.
You may, and should, recognize all this as the work of the late Douglas Adams. The author of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series and other wonderful works would have been 60 years old this year on March 11. He passed away on May 11, 2001. And each year he is celebrated on May 25 with a holiday known as Towel Day. He was a visionary writer, a charitable man dedicated to preserving disappearing species, and a guitar player. And it is fitting that this post be written on a Mac, Douglas was an aficionado.
So, don't panic, just grab a towel and have a good day. Until we see each other again my Tender Lumplings.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Underwater Wine Making
OK, here is the deal. I have stated here on several occasions the fact that I have the most vivid, unconventional, strange and amazing dreams. They are weird. They are complex. They are in color (I don't care what wikipedia says). Now I don't want to sound like a broken record and I hate to keep bringing up the dream thing but every now and then I endure a night of unsurpassed mental imagery that I simply cannot ignore. So please bare with me for a few minutes, my Tender Lumplings and I will try not to freak you out too much.
First a quick review of the night. It began with a visit to a friend of mine and his wife. Simple enough, but in this dream version his wife was Hispanic and her entire family, none of whom spoke English, lived in the house with them. They didn't like me much judging from the tone of their voices and the few Spanish insults I understand. Then I walked down the street to where my grandmothers house had just burned down. I knocked over a tree and it smashed my Dad's garage with him in it. He wasn't hurt, just pissed. After that I found myself in a post apocalyptic setting where most of the world had been destroyed and covered by water. The water was very thick because of all the people that had died dissolved in the ocean and made it thick. What little ground was left was soggy and radioactive. There was however a farmer's market selling what seemed to be fruits and vegetables. There was some guy who wanted to make wine with the "grapes" they were selling even though everyone said not too. He planted a vineyard in the radioactive ground at the bottom of the ocean and started making wine. Meanwhile there was a museum to show what the fish of the old world were like but the examples that were left started dying off. So we had to close the museum and get everyone out before they realized what was happening. Then I woke up.
I have given up a long time ago trying to figure out what my dreams mean. I would go nuts trying to superimpose some sort of symbolism onto these messed up images. They really mean nothing. But I am very curious about just what kind of fucked up mental chemistry produces this stuff. Where does it come from? I could never think up this stuff in my waking hours yet every night my slumbering mind can produce hours of the junk. There must be something seriously wrong in there.
I know how to fix it. But I can't tell you what it is. In the meantime I'm just gonna get my brain really drunk before bed. I hear you, "no, no that's a terrible idea." And you are right. So I'm not gonna do that every night... just Monday through Sunday. Until next time, Dearies.
First a quick review of the night. It began with a visit to a friend of mine and his wife. Simple enough, but in this dream version his wife was Hispanic and her entire family, none of whom spoke English, lived in the house with them. They didn't like me much judging from the tone of their voices and the few Spanish insults I understand. Then I walked down the street to where my grandmothers house had just burned down. I knocked over a tree and it smashed my Dad's garage with him in it. He wasn't hurt, just pissed. After that I found myself in a post apocalyptic setting where most of the world had been destroyed and covered by water. The water was very thick because of all the people that had died dissolved in the ocean and made it thick. What little ground was left was soggy and radioactive. There was however a farmer's market selling what seemed to be fruits and vegetables. There was some guy who wanted to make wine with the "grapes" they were selling even though everyone said not too. He planted a vineyard in the radioactive ground at the bottom of the ocean and started making wine. Meanwhile there was a museum to show what the fish of the old world were like but the examples that were left started dying off. So we had to close the museum and get everyone out before they realized what was happening. Then I woke up.
I have given up a long time ago trying to figure out what my dreams mean. I would go nuts trying to superimpose some sort of symbolism onto these messed up images. They really mean nothing. But I am very curious about just what kind of fucked up mental chemistry produces this stuff. Where does it come from? I could never think up this stuff in my waking hours yet every night my slumbering mind can produce hours of the junk. There must be something seriously wrong in there.
I know how to fix it. But I can't tell you what it is. In the meantime I'm just gonna get my brain really drunk before bed. I hear you, "no, no that's a terrible idea." And you are right. So I'm not gonna do that every night... just Monday through Sunday. Until next time, Dearies.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things
The time has come once again my Tender Lumplings to acknowledge the anniversary of my birth. I didn't, you will notice, say celebrate. I do celebrate my birthday in my own way but I try not to make a big deal of it. I don't want a bunch of fuss and hoopla. On my birthday, as with every other day in the year, I only want to be with my wife and my animals. The main difference being I may get some cake, or pie. Oh, and there are usually some gifts.
I don't get gifts like I did as a kid. Back then there were presents with wrapping and ribbon and all that sort of things and it was great. But as we get older the gifts get less elaborate. Usually there is no fancy wrapping and ribbon. Often there is not even a gift bag. Somebody just hands you something and that is that. And that is fine with me. I don't need all that stuff. Heck I don't even need gifts. Having grown older and wiser and having studied for some time now various theological and mystical ideologies, I have progressed passed the need for and pursuit of material things. I require only the meekest of physical objects to sustain myself. My intellectual and spiritual possessions are far more important.
And that is all crap. I have studied various theological and mystical ideologies and I still don't get the whole "renounce possessions" stuff. I like my stuff and I don't want to throw it all away and see no reason why I should. The late Guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was once asked why he surrounded himself with flowers when you were not supposed to want for physical things. He responded by saying why not surround yourself with beautiful things? God made all the flowers of the world and they are beautiful so why not admire them. The same goes for anything as far as I am concerned. If God is everyone and everything then why do all the so-called "holy" people keep saying "renounce all worldly objects". And if possessions and money and such are to be considered worthless, why are the streets of Heaven paved with Gold. A: that would make a lousy paving surface for a street and 2: who needs gold in Heaven. I was kind of hoping Heaven would be like an all-inclusive vacation: everything is paid for and you only have to have cash for like liquor.
The point of this is simply I like my stuff. I even admit to loving some of my stuff. I have some books I actually love. I have some signed copies of some Iain Banks that I really treasure. I have several first editions that are really cool. I also love my car and my guitars. I really love my guitars. I don't play that well but I do love those chunks of wood. I do not love my TV or my DVDs. They are cool but I don't love them. And as much as I treasure music, (it really is probably the biggest joy of my life), I don't love my compact discs. Maybe if I collected old vinyl LPs? They have a very romanticised culture around them but I don't go for that.
So, with my birth anniversary looming in the headlights I am embracing my materialistic side and saying "come on with the pressies". And I would also like to acknowledge the dates exactly one and two weeks prior to my birthday, the 3rd and 10th of May, which are the birthdays of two of the greatest ladies to ever grace the surface of this ball of mud. They are loved and missed dearly. Take care my dearies, until we meet again...
I don't get gifts like I did as a kid. Back then there were presents with wrapping and ribbon and all that sort of things and it was great. But as we get older the gifts get less elaborate. Usually there is no fancy wrapping and ribbon. Often there is not even a gift bag. Somebody just hands you something and that is that. And that is fine with me. I don't need all that stuff. Heck I don't even need gifts. Having grown older and wiser and having studied for some time now various theological and mystical ideologies, I have progressed passed the need for and pursuit of material things. I require only the meekest of physical objects to sustain myself. My intellectual and spiritual possessions are far more important.
And that is all crap. I have studied various theological and mystical ideologies and I still don't get the whole "renounce possessions" stuff. I like my stuff and I don't want to throw it all away and see no reason why I should. The late Guru Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was once asked why he surrounded himself with flowers when you were not supposed to want for physical things. He responded by saying why not surround yourself with beautiful things? God made all the flowers of the world and they are beautiful so why not admire them. The same goes for anything as far as I am concerned. If God is everyone and everything then why do all the so-called "holy" people keep saying "renounce all worldly objects". And if possessions and money and such are to be considered worthless, why are the streets of Heaven paved with Gold. A: that would make a lousy paving surface for a street and 2: who needs gold in Heaven. I was kind of hoping Heaven would be like an all-inclusive vacation: everything is paid for and you only have to have cash for like liquor.
The point of this is simply I like my stuff. I even admit to loving some of my stuff. I have some books I actually love. I have some signed copies of some Iain Banks that I really treasure. I have several first editions that are really cool. I also love my car and my guitars. I really love my guitars. I don't play that well but I do love those chunks of wood. I do not love my TV or my DVDs. They are cool but I don't love them. And as much as I treasure music, (it really is probably the biggest joy of my life), I don't love my compact discs. Maybe if I collected old vinyl LPs? They have a very romanticised culture around them but I don't go for that.
So, with my birth anniversary looming in the headlights I am embracing my materialistic side and saying "come on with the pressies". And I would also like to acknowledge the dates exactly one and two weeks prior to my birthday, the 3rd and 10th of May, which are the birthdays of two of the greatest ladies to ever grace the surface of this ball of mud. They are loved and missed dearly. Take care my dearies, until we meet again...
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