When you're a child, Adults are wingless gods here on earth to show you, the simpleminded knave, the true path to enlightenment. Your dads' job description is punching out Nazis and making pancakes for Batman. Your mother is at once a wisewoman and a damned shaman. She literally takes cans of things you can't even figure out how to open, and makes dinner out of them that's bigger than all the cans put together as one big "fuck you" to Science.
Your teachers are at once President and Budda, knowing everything and controlling your little life with a gesture of their hand.
A famous quote from the movie "The Crow", was "Childhood ends the day you know you're going to die." and that's true, you're no longer a child, the day you realize death for you isn't something so far away you can't even begin to believe it, but something just around the corner in the grand scheme of things. But after that, comes some really weird stuff.
Like the day you realize Adults are just phoning it in. Literally just making it up as they go along, hopping you won't notice that they don't actually have your nose, and the quarter was behind their fingers and not your ear.
If we all think back, just like fetishes and phobias, we can find the day it all started for us.
Mine's was in the second grade.
I was an early mental bloomer, reasoning and deductive skills were natural to me where math wasn't. This came to a head in the second grade, when we all were brought into another room to learn about dental health. As I held that tube of glittery toothpaste, I remember wondering "Wait a minute, they say -not- to eat glitter..." So, I asked the obvious doctor who had of course taken time out of his busy schedule of saving lives and using those paddly things George Clooney practically slept with, was it safe to swallow this stuff?
Not intentionally, mind you, but if I happen to swallow some while in use, would it be a problem? His answer: "Well... umm... you don't have teeth in your belly do you?"
Had I not been currently in a daze about what this meant, I'd of replied "Bitch, I'm eight not two, is this shit toxic?"
But I was far too busy having an epiphany, an adult didn't know the answer. Not just on a random subject, but on the exact subject he was supposed to be the expert on. This man just did some classic redirection and went on with his lesson. That day, I realized adults were not the gods I had worshiped in the past. Later I would learn to more effectively read the label on the toothpaste and learn for myself... which did little for my faith in that dentist/homeless guy the school paid to give the lesson.
To properly explain the feeling that left me with, I would go with relieved. TO know that in the future, I wouldn't be expected to literally be able to quote everything ever done, was a lot off my eight year old shoulders. I could get by in life by being mediocre, and since I had no plans to be anything but fantastic, well, life would be a better place.
That mans' unfortunate lack of improve skills may have helped shape my life.
On a side not, I managed to get through a whole thing on "glittery toothpaste" without a single Twilight semen joke!
Goddammit...
Friday, November 4, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
A World at War...
When I was a child growing up in the city of Nashua, I remember going to war...
To explain this event, you must first learn of the make up of my neighborhood and the surrounding territories. We'll start with the Center, a five way intersection in a residential area, where the main roads to each of the territories met. It was usually free of cars, but we rarely spent much time there... but it was the hub of our childhood world.
Little Florida, the outermost, a cul-de-sac of tenish streets, all named after Florida cities, with only one long winding road in. They were literally the Sweeden of our place, about a half a mile from the Center. They stuck with themselves, since they had a river behind them where someone had built a dirt bike track, so they were sort of the unexplored country for most of the different lands.
Aside from them was the Freemont st kids, who were a formidable lot because of the fact that they owned the only playground in the whole area. You had to live in a small condo to be able to use it, so being their ally gave you permission.
Just around the corner from Freemont, was a long dead end road named Paxton Terrace, which was sort of a super suburban road, nearly identical duplexes as far as you went. To this day I do not believe I went to the end of there... but there was a reason for that.
If you followed Freemont away from the main road, and did not take the road to the Center, you took around about way through a few back secluded houses, that lead to a mill/corperate building, this was sort of no mans' land, a free port if you would. there were a few, unallied people there, most of whom stayed away from us, and we them. But that road led down to the lower income places, some were right dangerous to the un-allied.
Sadly, the street that was the child hub of that area's name escapes me to this day, we simply called it "Where Aaron Lived," another kid lived there two, but he was un-allied.
Whichever road you took from there led you up a hill, the highest point in the area known as Beacon St, home to a large two apartment buildings, one a quadplex and the other a complex, but the street was just rise and a fall of the hill, at it's hight was a Court. Beacon Ct.
It was the highground, the safest and most defensible place in the whole of the neighborhood. With a terrain of cliffs and rock walls scalable only to those who knew them well, it was a fortress, with an unlimited hidden entrances and exits. A place where you could escape to, and no one dared follow.
This was my domain.
It is not pride that I remember it as that, but fact. I inherited it from Joseph, who had moved away a year after I moved there. I had taken the neighbors yard (they had no kids therefore it was unclaimed) from the kids across the street. I had defended it against the invading Frost family, through many a black eye and split lip. This was my castle on the hilltop.
It was in my third year of rule, that the great war started...
My friend, Eliot, a denizen of Freemont, informed me of a fight between a citizen of Freemont, and some rabble from Paxton. It started out like any fight, but nether would conceed defeat, so they left to gather allies. We at Beacon Ct, much like the Celts of old, took a break from fighting our long standing enemies, the kids from Beacon St. to help our combined ally.
Freemont was allied with us on the Beacon, not just for their covet playground or our hedge mazes, but also in a shared love of riding bikes across the big wooden bridge between Freemont and Little Florida.
Through us at Beacon, they were allied with "The place where Aaron lived", but not with the kids just past him, they were allied to none.
We grabbed a few allies from no mans' land, and a few from the road between Freemont and Beacon, where the old people lived. Also, we grabbed the kids who lived on the hidden U, which was "not a thru street" but held a strange lot of able solders ready to fight for Freemont. They were not allied with Beacon, but in this fight, we all were.
Paxton, however, had been busy. They held the largest free standing army, their road was bigger and prone to the same age bracket of children, they also held an Alliance with Little Florida, who despite their size, only a small portion of their army had ever surfaced. To this day, many theorize that should Little Florida ever risen up in force, none of us could have held them back. They all literally own ten speed mountain bikes.
Our battle field was the Ravine, the large grassy drain between Freemont and the house that was between Freemont and the Playground. I couldn't count the numbers of those that had shown up.
The rules of engagement were made clear, no projectiles of any kind unless magical. No melee weapons, unless otherwise allowed. No hitting Nichole, the latin vixen that lived in that separating house, we all owed allegiance to her. No one would cease fighting until one side was clearly the winner.
Also, we decided the theme should be Star Wars, since the remastered edition had just hit theaters.
I, to the eternal honor of my clan, was elected to be Boba Fett. With appropriate honor, I trounced IG38, and offered some help against Darth Vader. I believe Eliot may have been Chewbacca, we just chose characters, not sides. Leave the old war where it was, ours was about heroes.
It last two, grueling days.
At the end, someone won, I don't remember, the ice cream man had figured out there was a war going on and stopped by. I would have called my brethern back to combat, to finish what was started, but Goddamn I love Bottlerockets.
So, the war was ended, likely the two offenders were dead behind us, crying because they fell on something pointed. But we had won through the day, and Paxton retreated vowing revenge, and Little Florida retreated vowing... to one day figure out who any of us were.
To be sure, there were other wars, abductions, and one impressive siege where I put aside my differences with the Hongs; Paxton turncoats, and held off a fort we had build on a dirt hill from a group of Paxtons with a tree fashioned into a dirtbomb catapult.
But no war ever stands out as clearly as that one... there I nights I wake up in cold sweats... for completely different reasons, but there's definently some times I remember that war of the Ravine.
In that war, I was a general, I fought beside my allies with honor, I lead my people bravely and I was also Boba friggin' Fett, which was totally awesome.
To explain this event, you must first learn of the make up of my neighborhood and the surrounding territories. We'll start with the Center, a five way intersection in a residential area, where the main roads to each of the territories met. It was usually free of cars, but we rarely spent much time there... but it was the hub of our childhood world.
Little Florida, the outermost, a cul-de-sac of tenish streets, all named after Florida cities, with only one long winding road in. They were literally the Sweeden of our place, about a half a mile from the Center. They stuck with themselves, since they had a river behind them where someone had built a dirt bike track, so they were sort of the unexplored country for most of the different lands.
Aside from them was the Freemont st kids, who were a formidable lot because of the fact that they owned the only playground in the whole area. You had to live in a small condo to be able to use it, so being their ally gave you permission.
Just around the corner from Freemont, was a long dead end road named Paxton Terrace, which was sort of a super suburban road, nearly identical duplexes as far as you went. To this day I do not believe I went to the end of there... but there was a reason for that.
If you followed Freemont away from the main road, and did not take the road to the Center, you took around about way through a few back secluded houses, that lead to a mill/corperate building, this was sort of no mans' land, a free port if you would. there were a few, unallied people there, most of whom stayed away from us, and we them. But that road led down to the lower income places, some were right dangerous to the un-allied.
Sadly, the street that was the child hub of that area's name escapes me to this day, we simply called it "Where Aaron Lived," another kid lived there two, but he was un-allied.
Whichever road you took from there led you up a hill, the highest point in the area known as Beacon St, home to a large two apartment buildings, one a quadplex and the other a complex, but the street was just rise and a fall of the hill, at it's hight was a Court. Beacon Ct.
It was the highground, the safest and most defensible place in the whole of the neighborhood. With a terrain of cliffs and rock walls scalable only to those who knew them well, it was a fortress, with an unlimited hidden entrances and exits. A place where you could escape to, and no one dared follow.
This was my domain.
It is not pride that I remember it as that, but fact. I inherited it from Joseph, who had moved away a year after I moved there. I had taken the neighbors yard (they had no kids therefore it was unclaimed) from the kids across the street. I had defended it against the invading Frost family, through many a black eye and split lip. This was my castle on the hilltop.
It was in my third year of rule, that the great war started...
My friend, Eliot, a denizen of Freemont, informed me of a fight between a citizen of Freemont, and some rabble from Paxton. It started out like any fight, but nether would conceed defeat, so they left to gather allies. We at Beacon Ct, much like the Celts of old, took a break from fighting our long standing enemies, the kids from Beacon St. to help our combined ally.
Freemont was allied with us on the Beacon, not just for their covet playground or our hedge mazes, but also in a shared love of riding bikes across the big wooden bridge between Freemont and Little Florida.
Through us at Beacon, they were allied with "The place where Aaron lived", but not with the kids just past him, they were allied to none.
We grabbed a few allies from no mans' land, and a few from the road between Freemont and Beacon, where the old people lived. Also, we grabbed the kids who lived on the hidden U, which was "not a thru street" but held a strange lot of able solders ready to fight for Freemont. They were not allied with Beacon, but in this fight, we all were.
Paxton, however, had been busy. They held the largest free standing army, their road was bigger and prone to the same age bracket of children, they also held an Alliance with Little Florida, who despite their size, only a small portion of their army had ever surfaced. To this day, many theorize that should Little Florida ever risen up in force, none of us could have held them back. They all literally own ten speed mountain bikes.
Our battle field was the Ravine, the large grassy drain between Freemont and the house that was between Freemont and the Playground. I couldn't count the numbers of those that had shown up.
The rules of engagement were made clear, no projectiles of any kind unless magical. No melee weapons, unless otherwise allowed. No hitting Nichole, the latin vixen that lived in that separating house, we all owed allegiance to her. No one would cease fighting until one side was clearly the winner.
Also, we decided the theme should be Star Wars, since the remastered edition had just hit theaters.
I, to the eternal honor of my clan, was elected to be Boba Fett. With appropriate honor, I trounced IG38, and offered some help against Darth Vader. I believe Eliot may have been Chewbacca, we just chose characters, not sides. Leave the old war where it was, ours was about heroes.
It last two, grueling days.
At the end, someone won, I don't remember, the ice cream man had figured out there was a war going on and stopped by. I would have called my brethern back to combat, to finish what was started, but Goddamn I love Bottlerockets.
So, the war was ended, likely the two offenders were dead behind us, crying because they fell on something pointed. But we had won through the day, and Paxton retreated vowing revenge, and Little Florida retreated vowing... to one day figure out who any of us were.
To be sure, there were other wars, abductions, and one impressive siege where I put aside my differences with the Hongs; Paxton turncoats, and held off a fort we had build on a dirt hill from a group of Paxtons with a tree fashioned into a dirtbomb catapult.
But no war ever stands out as clearly as that one... there I nights I wake up in cold sweats... for completely different reasons, but there's definently some times I remember that war of the Ravine.
In that war, I was a general, I fought beside my allies with honor, I lead my people bravely and I was also Boba friggin' Fett, which was totally awesome.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Yonder bitches, they are most assuredly excriment.
Having seen the travesty that is Facebook grammar, I've had to explain grammar too many times, and had the reply be "we dont need grammer," or the best "no1 cares i wont eva no it so y tri"
If you cringed at those words, you cringe with the rest of us. I've tried to point out that without grammar, you lose context, and with out context things don't make sense. Or they do, but it's not the sense you meant.
Like the ever popular phrase; bitches ain't shit. If you think about it, it's a phrase fully depending on context. If the previous line is "bitches are amazing!" It is basically saying "Oh ho, my good man, these bitches are in fact, nothing of the sort! Quite the different, they are not even on par with droppings." Or something of the sort.
But, were you to say "These bitches be shit," why, it's a stalwart statement in defense of those poor women.
We all know the funny statements that mislead because of a lack of grammar, usually somehow proclaiming their fondness for sodomy. I don't make the unseen laws of the internet, but I'm held to them like the rest of you.
If you cringed at those words, you cringe with the rest of us. I've tried to point out that without grammar, you lose context, and with out context things don't make sense. Or they do, but it's not the sense you meant.
Like the ever popular phrase; bitches ain't shit. If you think about it, it's a phrase fully depending on context. If the previous line is "bitches are amazing!" It is basically saying "Oh ho, my good man, these bitches are in fact, nothing of the sort! Quite the different, they are not even on par with droppings." Or something of the sort.
But, were you to say "These bitches be shit," why, it's a stalwart statement in defense of those poor women.
We all know the funny statements that mislead because of a lack of grammar, usually somehow proclaiming their fondness for sodomy. I don't make the unseen laws of the internet, but I'm held to them like the rest of you.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
It's hot.
I've always wondered why people need to point out the obvious.
Do we do it out of a need to belong?
Do we really think someone may have not noticed it?
Is it our way of expressing interest/discomfort without whining?
Are we idiots?
The first question, I came to the answer of: probably. We like to know that we're not the only ones who are effected by something. If it's hot, we like knowing that someone else is hot as well. Instead of asking them, we think it nicer to make a statement, and see if they agree or challenge.
I've heard that down south, saying "it's hot out" is usually met with an immediate challenge of "what you can't stand/don't like it here?"
As for the second question, I've always figured it's a way to make a generalized statement, that is pretty much easy to agree with. When we've run out of things to say, stating the obvious keeps our mouths working, or else are brains kick in.
Saying "it's too hot" can be taken as whining, and up here, we tend to hate whiners. There's an old saying here "if you don't like the weather in New Hampshire, wait a minute, it will change" and while it's funny, they made fun of it saying "If you don't like the weather in New Hampshire, go back where you came from."
I've always thought the second one was closer to our actual thoughts.
All in all, I'm far too hot to do anything right now but eat chips and watch Doctor Who.
Do we do it out of a need to belong?
Do we really think someone may have not noticed it?
Is it our way of expressing interest/discomfort without whining?
Are we idiots?
The first question, I came to the answer of: probably. We like to know that we're not the only ones who are effected by something. If it's hot, we like knowing that someone else is hot as well. Instead of asking them, we think it nicer to make a statement, and see if they agree or challenge.
I've heard that down south, saying "it's hot out" is usually met with an immediate challenge of "what you can't stand/don't like it here?"
As for the second question, I've always figured it's a way to make a generalized statement, that is pretty much easy to agree with. When we've run out of things to say, stating the obvious keeps our mouths working, or else are brains kick in.
Saying "it's too hot" can be taken as whining, and up here, we tend to hate whiners. There's an old saying here "if you don't like the weather in New Hampshire, wait a minute, it will change" and while it's funny, they made fun of it saying "If you don't like the weather in New Hampshire, go back where you came from."
I've always thought the second one was closer to our actual thoughts.
All in all, I'm far too hot to do anything right now but eat chips and watch Doctor Who.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Tales of High Adventure...
Conan. Seriously, Grammar? I hope you're listening, because between "Conan." and "I am." Conan is the more perfect statement.
God man... Conan, seriously hero of my childhood, adulthood, and pretty much every hood I've had. The wild barbarian, brilliant tactician, thief, pirate, and probably a fine cook, Conan has literally been the inspiration for more novels, characters, and ideas than anything I'll ever write.
Note: Doesn't mean I'm not going to try to surpass it.
I even based one of my own characters off him; Rose, a character who's fighting style shifts freely from "clever, subtle and sneaky" to "hit me until you're tired, bitch"... that might actually end up being a line for her. Both were unhandsome, blunt and honest characters, making decisions based on intellect and not ego and the need to further the plot.
I love Conan, I loved the movie as well.
Note: I'd say movies... but well... Destroyer? Meh...
So, a new movie on Conan? A remake? I promise to the world I will do my very, very best to not come off as a fanboy, or let nostalgia cloud my vision when I go see this.
By the way, here's the plan: I'm going to see it at Chunky's, so I can have a beer and meat, because there's no better way to see Conan than at a long feasting table, with pilfered car seats, shouting along with him. I may go in a loincloth, not sure yet.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
A STAPLE (in the scrotum) OF MANLINESS.
I, being twenty-four, have yet to do something that nearly all men do, or have done, by my age. I never really thought about it, but tonight it sort of dawned on me.
I've never had a beer with my dad.
When I was about seventeen/eighteen, my mother emerged as an alcoholic, and for the years after, I completely gave up alcohol. Only on the rarest of occations, such as special events or my twenty-first, would I imbibe. I told the world I was being strong and supportive... but in truth, I was scared.
I remember my mother as one of the strongest people in the world, part of the reason I enjoy strong female characters, to see something break her, terrified me. So, under the guise of helping, I swore off drinking.
In the recent years, I'd come to realize that fear, and since then have come to enjoy a drink now and then. I still hate being drunk, but I always have. Bad stomach, doesn't play well with excess. So, on nights I will pour myself a drink into my Medieval Manor tall glass, and have a sit, sipping away on my beer and watching something. Tonight is Doctor Who.
Now, before I ramble off again, know that my mother is at around three years sober, a good achievement I'm proud of her for.
But, I've never sat down in a bar, next to my dad, and had a beer. We've never played pool, loser paying for the drinks. I'm married, a responsible adult looking towards life as a long road I ride down, and I've yet to start off in that way.
My brother was the one to take me out on my twenty-first, bought me drinks, played pool with me, explained about bar fights. I don't even like bars, but I listened.
I suppose I'll have to ask my father to go sometime, me, him, my brother, all of us. The Hart boys off to the bar, for possibly the first and last time. We're Irish, we might end up singing, but that's a risk we'll just have to take.
I've never had a beer with my dad.
When I was about seventeen/eighteen, my mother emerged as an alcoholic, and for the years after, I completely gave up alcohol. Only on the rarest of occations, such as special events or my twenty-first, would I imbibe. I told the world I was being strong and supportive... but in truth, I was scared.
I remember my mother as one of the strongest people in the world, part of the reason I enjoy strong female characters, to see something break her, terrified me. So, under the guise of helping, I swore off drinking.
In the recent years, I'd come to realize that fear, and since then have come to enjoy a drink now and then. I still hate being drunk, but I always have. Bad stomach, doesn't play well with excess. So, on nights I will pour myself a drink into my Medieval Manor tall glass, and have a sit, sipping away on my beer and watching something. Tonight is Doctor Who.
Now, before I ramble off again, know that my mother is at around three years sober, a good achievement I'm proud of her for.
But, I've never sat down in a bar, next to my dad, and had a beer. We've never played pool, loser paying for the drinks. I'm married, a responsible adult looking towards life as a long road I ride down, and I've yet to start off in that way.
My brother was the one to take me out on my twenty-first, bought me drinks, played pool with me, explained about bar fights. I don't even like bars, but I listened.
I suppose I'll have to ask my father to go sometime, me, him, my brother, all of us. The Hart boys off to the bar, for possibly the first and last time. We're Irish, we might end up singing, but that's a risk we'll just have to take.
Friday, July 1, 2011
So... I think it's officially time to cut back on the "blockbuster" movies... we're past them as a people.
Some of our best movies are not these massive, money grabbing multi-genre flicks that offer nothing more than the mental equivalent of a Big Mac, tons of processed meat, fake flavoring, and enough salt (titties) to kill a horse. I watched two movies yesterday, Black Swan, and Drive Angry, (I seriously think Redbox thought I was dicking with it) both of which were A: not blockbusters, and B: fucking amazing.
Black Swan was a exquisite, twisted mind fuck that never, ever, intended to let you in as a confidant. You were an outsider for the whole movie, just a voyeuristic viewer, here to see the show. It was beautifully done.
Drive Angry was an action flick that knew why you were watching it, you wanted to see Nick Cage kill people with demonic... stuff. To hell with a "plot" tits and guns, and someone being set on fire.
Then, after you sit down ready to watch this freak show... somewhere along the line it whips a plot out of nowhere, showcases a truly strong female character who exhibits NONE of the Hollywood tripe we're usually forced to have. She'll fight anyone, fires first, looks for hot people to screw, and beats the hell out of the main villain. She's what Hollywood usually only allows a male actor to be: useful. Then, a symbolic plot rears it's head, even going as far as to use the "Lucifer is merely a Warden of Hell, not some evil being" theory, without sounding like a tool. It all works well.
These two movies, not blockbusters, didn't make ten billion opening weekend, yet should be must sees for people. In all this grabbing for money, paying actors so much they could get together and fill the national debt in a year. Hell I'd give them a hell of a tax break if they did. We've basically lost what made movies good.
Those people who say "But, maybe I don't want every movie to 'be' about something, sometimes I just want a distraction." That's akin to saying "not everything I eat needs to be 'healthy', sometimes I just want food."
Diabetes and obesity are near epidemics in this country, the former being over 60%. And if you need to see the morbidly obese, go to Wal-Mart. As for how this metaphor moves to movies... just watch Jersey Shore and see if you can tell me that "we don't need no education" with a straight face.
We should save the blockbusters for stories that deserve it, ones that already bridge huge gaps without needing to be whitewashed for "maximum appeal". True epics like Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, hell, even Twilight, as much as I hate it, it -had- a massive following before the movies. I can hate it all I want, and I -can- and -will- talk smack, because I can. But, I will not deny that people liked it for all the right reasons: They enjoyed it, they read the series, they made informed opinions about it.
If they're going to do that, they deserve to like it. We still get to make fun of them, that's part of being American, but you still have to allow them to like it... and get their damn movies.
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