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Dateline: 10:16 am, Thursday May 15, 2008– The California Supreme Court just struck down the statewide ban on same-sex marriage, declaring it unconstitutional.
A polyglot public letter writer in Ho Chi Minh City bridges different worlds — connecting people across the planet with his fountain pen. His profession may be dying, but in his 60 years on the job, he has created many marriages.
It’s interesting to see how with all our talk about the slow advent of post-literate society, there are still pre-literate “vestiges” out there. Vestiges in this case would mean “most of the world” but when doesn’t it anymore?
“And in a single breath this world is gone.” - New Order
Six out of 700 and only half a year late. A decisive victory for our Visuals department.
I was also imposing upon myself to write a lengthy, self-absorbed diatribe on the P.R.C. and the joys of chartered tours through it, right? Well truth be told I put that idea out of sight, out of mind with the photos for the past six months until now. Catch being I plan to reverse engineer the loose format into something more cohesive and– news-y in a bid to get it published here and henceforth to braver horizons yet unknown (travel mags?).
A related story: a longtime friend of mine is now living and studying
I woke to a dream of damask landscapes atangle on protrusions from behind the curtain. Jagged things in the shape of a thousandfold different blades I had seen before now making as if to split cerulean hills and violet waterfalls at the seams. A pinhole brought itself into existence, folding out from itself ten thousand times until it filled the width of my vision.
That morning the sun was alive and well. In a waking haze I swatted at it and drew aside my pallet’s gauze sheet. The east wall was not a wall at all, rather a free-standing thing of four thin wood pillars carved with simple water reptiles and a small multitude of other flourishes. Past those and the sloped lip of the green tile roof hung the veranda, adorned with little else but the simple rhomboid table at which I conducted most of my duties that were not of a classified nature (many of them indeed).
The rattan rolls that deployed between those pillars were the sturdiest walls I needed towards the east until the typhoon season returned. I had left them rolled up throughout the evening, wishing for a measure more of cooling wind from the adjacent ocean. In the suffusion of morning sunlight I was then tempted to draw them back down.
Instead I pulled up the hem of the mosquito tent and set my feet on the floor. The polished mahogany was still sharp with a hint of evening chill. As per my morning pattern at the time, I drained myself into the unadorned tubular that led into the town’s new simplistic cloacae system. Dawn Master said, “no patterns but the Inevitable,” but at moment as in moments to follow they provided me with a grounded solace towards most things.
My personal room featured a rather complex home shrine on the one wall to the north. I did not care for it, but in such a town as River Origin, it would be very much improbable for any man, no matter his merits, to hold a public office without any sort of visible appreciation towards the logos. Finishing the water remaining in my table pitcher, I remember examining the thing in an idle fashion. The scrimshaws and the hermits from Snow Breadth Mountain had designed and carved it, a frankly gaudy thing rife with more articulation and facades than the rest of my home. Ensconced at the center (with a token offering of a limp kiwi and cup of raw rice) was Blue Light, the warrior/arbiter representative of the Castellan’s (vast) retinue. A ceramic flurry of shifting blue chiton, scarves and kaffiyeh he was, green eyes set in a divine fury and yanyue dao held in a one-handed stance of port-arms that would realistically require upper body strength of an impossible proportion.
- California, 2007
(I thought these ones up today. Please don’t think I found them in an actual publication.)
(If you don’t know who Mark Foley is, it’s ok, but you should probably read more.)
Foley Probe “Consensual” FBI Say
Probing on Foley Found Unconstitutional
Raging Homosexuality Debate on Capitol Hill, Rights “Privately Violated” Says Foley
Foley Resigns in Wake of Molestation Case, Senate Judiciary Commitee Presses Probe
Foley Molested “In Teenager” Years, Spokesman Says
Foley Exposed, FBI Reveals All
Oil rigs set out on the inland sea
A torrent of soymilk and mucus matter
The dredge jobs loot rockoil
The tankers take petrol
All across the inland sea
A torrent of Starcraft SCVs
Oh political song
Left-wing sing-a-long
Errant vocab
Burnt-out thesaurus
Editor’s razor where the chapters are porous
A PR rep’s desk’s awash with these things
As she smiles and scrubs off the pelican’s wings
Oh jingle songs
Consumer brain baton
A third verse’s superfluous
The meaning is lost
The songwriter’s personal holocaust
Three minutes acheived at coherence’s cost-
Albatross
Oh clever song
Postmodern marathon
“Japan seeks return of fisherman”
“Japanese officials are travelling to collect the body of a fisherman who was shot on Wednesday by Russian guards in disputed waters.
Russian officials said the fishing boat was in the area illegally, and the man was accidentally killed by a warning shot when the ship refused to stop.”
“Japan collects fisherman’s body on Kunashiri”
“Russia on Saturday handed over to Japan the body of a Japanese fisherman who was shot dead by a Russian border patrol boat in disputed waters off Hokkaido this week.
Senior Japanese lawmaker Akiko Yamanaka, who serves as vice foreign minister, took delivery of the body of Mitsuhiro Morita, 35, in Furukamappu on Kunashiri Island, one of the Russian-held islands claimed by Japan.”
This is why you read more than one report on the same story.
Sweaty black blazer pencil-gripping pundit types with autoerotic asphyxiating red ties on every medium analog or digital declaring that western anglo civilization has to unite militarily and declare Cultural World War 3 on global Islam, China, and Hugo Chavez no mention of Kim Jong Izzle. Wolf Blitzer blitzes, Militant #2323 postures, Lou Dobbs and katyushas adjust attitudes (only slightly) for Handicam war clip time.
Somewhere in the world Tomithy Rompers imagines a vegetarian burrito that never existed
- California 2006
Content soon!
Also, this guy showed up in my serious freaggin' journalism class on Wednesday. The same class I wrote a magnanimous blog entry for, which I now notice has one of the most awesome comment-bot spams i've ever seen. Seriously.
Anyways, that guy (nice guy too!) said that if we namedrop him or SJSU in our blogs, he'll invariably end up returning the favor. Well, hop to it!
Everyone needs a pocket copy of the I Ching. It says more in five lines than the Bible does in five books. Taoism is just lazy and complacent enough for it to speak to me.
Let's see… stuff. Tomorrow I get to take that test that I was supposed to have taken two and a half semesters ago to be able to take upper div courses (the reason why i'm taking BS courses this semester). I haven't studied much at all, much less have an idea what the test actually is. So business as usual in other words.
