hammerdancer

My Heart Has Gone to Burning Man

hammerdancer — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 22:17:39 GMT

It sounds like the name of a song, doesn’t it? Maybe someday it will be.

Anyway:

Festivals are wondrous things, and one of their more magical functions is similar to that of a Petri-dish, except that instead of growing bacteria very quickly, they grow relationships (although the rate of growth is similar to that of the more expansive bacteria). Faerieworlds seems to be establishing a pattern of bringing beautiful women (who seem to be attracted to me for some reason) to my attention or vise versa.

When she left, I thought I would dwell on her absence and be saddened. Instead, I find myself wistfully remembering all of the time we spent together, and the things she does that make me smile. Not all the time, of course. Surprisingly, I am a semi-functional person still, if occasionally taken by sudden vacant stares and foolish smiles.

I miss her, but it’s a positive kind of longing—like a tree that continues to grow when the gardener is away.

She gave me a cotton pad filled with the stuff she puts in her hair. It sits on my beside table, and the smell in the wee hours of the morning makes me think that I can just roll over and touch her. In a way, I can. Every time I think of her; every time I invoke a pleasant memory, I feed that tree that I mentioned earlier.

I miss sleeping in company though. I can live without sex for a week (new toy though it is), but my bed is suddenly very, very lonely. Teddy bears just don’t seem to cut it anymore. I’m not going to like the lack of affection either. I don’t know how I managed to survive without it before, but I don’t know if I can again.

I don’t know what to do with myself this week. I don’t really want to spend it puttering around and hitting things with sticks. I was thinking I’d learn to hoop, practice making monkey-fists, do a little light video gaming, hit stuff with sticks, and apparently write soppy LiveJournal entries. However, that’s basically the definition of “puttering around” for this week, so I’m open to suggestions.

True to the universal laws of the universe, the birthday gift I ordered for her arrived Monday. One day too late for her to take to Burning Man. Oh well.

I love her. I miss her. I can’t wait for my Corpse to come home to me.

Pre-release of Ongoing Angst Episode

hammerdancer — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 05:38:33 GMT

All in all, I consider that I have ~~enjoyed~~ ~~led~~ experienced a life fairly devoid of the soul-wrenching drama that I understand is often either concurrent or synonymous with the teenage years.

About a week ago however, I found myself beginning to write an exchange between myself and the forces of forced maturity (at least in the biological sense). The dialogue developed into a rather complex discussion, which I have been adding to most nights. Obviously, it is quite lengthy, so I will not post the entire thing here. What I will post will likely end up too long for an uncut entry. This means that most who read this post will skip over the cut entry, which is understandable considering the topic may not be of interest to many and it will take some time to read. This in turn gives me some freedom in the writing, as it is easier to speak of an uncomfortable subject to a small audience (one that is made smaller by both my ridiculously verbose introduction and the length of the article that follows).

ME: (wistfully, to self; continuing a thought aloud) ...I just wish that I could--wait a sec! No I don't!
HORM: Yes you do.
ME: No I don't! That would be in conflict with my firmly held belief that sex should be something special shared by two people who love each other.
HORM: Look, there'll be plenty of time for all that later on. If you can't be a little more proactive, your belief will be only one of the things held firmly around here.
ME: (embarrassed) Shut up! I know it's lame, but--
HORM: --But you're going to sit on your ass and wait for things to change. Right. Sorry to break it to you, but we don't want to wait. Chastity is not a virtue we want to see around here much longer, understand?
ME: (getting angry) You can just sit down and shut up, OK?! I never invited you here! You can leave at any time.
HORM: As far as we're concerned, you can fuck your personal philosophy. It's probably the only action you'll be getting for a while.
ME: I don't need this! I don't need you! Get out!
HORM: But you do need us.
ME: I seem to remember getting along alright without you before.
HORM: Are you referring to when girls had cooties?
ME: Girls still have cooties, I just don't mind so much anymore. Cooties can be quite enjoyable.
CRITIC: A childish and embarrassing sentiment to broadcast. I can't believe you're doing this.
ME: Oh, hi Critic. How'd you get out of your box?
CRITIC: Uhm. You won't put me back.
ME: Ah, but I will Critic. I have enough confidence these days to put you back in your place, which is your box. If you have anything constructive to add, which I doubt, I'll be sure to do it for you. Back you go!
CRITIC: (being stuffed into a box) OW! You angsty little pervert!
ME: Sorry about that Hormones. Where were we?
HORM: You were saying that you didn't need us anymore, and then you told that Critic monstrosity--
ME: --Yes, it is rather unsavory isn't it?
HORM: --You told it that you had confidence these days. Why do you think that is?
ME: Let's see, I'd say that it was mainly...
HORM: It was us.
ME: No it wasn't.
HORM: It was. Look, two years ago you were a hyperactive geek who practically lived in his room when you weren't playing D&D. You froze like a deer in headlights whenever any halfway attractive girl so much as spoke to you.
ME: Maybe, but that was two years ago.
HORM: And last year you were still--
ME: --Look, this is stupid. Of course I remember last year. I was there after all. Besides, people grow. They change.
HORM: So were we, and we grew with you.
ME: Oh.
HORM: That's our point. We are a part of you.
ME: So is Critic, but lately he's been a bit box-shaped. Should I go look for another box now or will you guys sit quiet until I find one? I won't have people complaining I'm unfair, so I'll let you out sometimes. You won't be able to do any more thinking for me though.
HORM: Won't work. Confidence beats the Critic, but only time can beat us, and when it does, you'll wish it hadn't.
ME: (Sighs) So I hear.
HORM: Where we we before you got all philosophic on us?
ME: (Sighs)

For those who want to know the basic gist of the episode without reading all that stuff, it can basically be boiled down to this:
HORMONES say "Yes!"
JAMIE say "Wait, what?"

Tune in soon for Jamie's dissertation on the nature of Pity, and why it sucks.

RHS: for a given value of tribute

hammerdancer — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 07:07:53 GMT

OK, now that it's getting too dark to sand, I can spend as long as I like writing and revising and rewriting and re-revising and washing and rinsing and repeating. Unless I fall asleep.

Yes, my memories of Redmond High School are truly that gripping. Especially for those readers who do not have to live my boredom, and can simply skip the large part that such would play in an accurate rendition of my latest educational capstone (or headstone, if you're feeling gloomy).

In fact, since I don't particularly want to revisit those particular segments of time that I spent staring out a classroom window onto sunny, fresh-mown grass more than I already have, I will simply move on to a topic that is both near to my heart and of at least a modicum of interest to any readers determined enough to get this far: Me. Or rather, a look back at the me that came to RHS and the me that has just left it.

When I first arrived at RHS as a Sophomore, I was running a D&D game for 9 people, all of which were older than me (ranging from 18-45 years). I had an encyclopedic memory too... for the Player's Handbook and the Dungeon Master's Guide. I wielded an authority backed by iron self-confidence and a hefty charge of charisma amongst my friends. When among other company, I tended towards reservation. I avoided school dances and house concerts of my favorite musicians (and yours too) like the plague, spending the time in my room writing campaign material instead. As I recall, It was a feeling similar to that of lying in bed and listening to the rain on the roof. Comfort and Security.

I'm losing the original thread I'd intended. Oh well. I'd better just list the memories as they come before both of us fall asleep.

I remember how I ranted about the stupidity of the IEP system, and how often I abused the hell out of it.
I remember how my anatomy/physiology teacher, Mr. Currie, used to lose himself while he was lecturing and revert to his default lecture about how drugs affect the brain. He came off as either an airhead or a stoner (there were rumors. There always are).
I remember how my best friend and I were forced to grow apart as a result of the cliques. He went to the computer geeks, I hung out with the gamer geeks. I remember regretting that I did not make more of an effort to maintain it.
I remember how easy it was to convince myself that the homework was not urgent, necessary, or worth doing. I remember how easily I could distract myself.
I remember how desperately I wanted to be more outgoing, more engaging. I remember how desperately I avoided any opportunity to begin becoming so.
I remember getting my laptop. My wonderful, dependable laptop. I remember applying the dragon artwork to it shortly thereafter, which made my laptop the most commented-upon thing about me for months (even now, it is second only to the comment "Dude! I saw you doing that spinny thing at the [insert location]! That was awesome!")
I remember coming home every day for months and hammerdancing from 2:30 to 6.
I remember the satisfaction I discovered could be found in a page of finished math homework.
I remember how the path home used to run rivers in the rain.
I remember how, when the rain was coming down and I had no jacket, I would focus on keeping my eyebrows unscrunched. How much easier it was to enjoy the simple walk home in the rain when not resisting and resenting it.
I remember how, when I just beginning, I brought poi to school and spun at lunch. I remember being lightly mocked by a couple of jocks. Granted, to them I was just a guy twirling hot-pink-and-black striped stockings in rather repetitive motions.
I remember how Mr. Rowley let me spin first poi and then staff (after I made a collapsible PVC staff that would fit in my backpack) in his classroom during lunch every day. I remember when the assistant principal came in one day and told me I should spin in the celebrate the arts assembly.
I remember passing beautiful women in the halls every day and feeling absolutely powerless.
I remember the things I found interesting, and I remember how much I tuned out.
I remember the faults I discovered in myself, and I remember the ways I discovered to overcome a few.
I remember how easily words came to me when I didn't need them.
I remember the day Obama was sworn into office. We went from class to class, but nobody was teaching.
I remember the freeform debates of philosophy, economy, politics, the environment, and reality in general with my friends.
I remembered monotany and mundanity every day. Every day, I remembered to forget.

And I remember the near-panicked scramble to complete everything I needed for graduation on time. I remember the vague sense of relief and the growing unsettlement as the graduation approached. I remember the infectious giddiness of my fellow graduates, which somehow overwhelmed my sudden loss of direction momentarily. I remember the feeling of unknown paths ahead, with unknown things at the end. After all, did Robert Frost not write:

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I stood and watched the world go by,
And so have stood there ever since."

He didn't of course. That was me (2/3 me anyway), and it occurred to me as I was writing this that it matters less what path I take then to where I'm going. Whatever path I select will have treasures along the way that are worth savoring, but a fork in the road has nothing for me but a choice.

I guess I can wait to make it 'til tomorrow.

Continuity in Existance

hammerdancer — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 03:15:10 GMT

By which I mean that I am not, as yet, dead.
This may not come as much of a surprise to some of you, but what with my extended LJ silence, I thought the fact might bear repeating.

I shall now give the highlights of my 31 week-long absence from these pages. Assume that all time not accounted for below was spent in sleeping, various outdoor activities (such as spinning poi/staff and hitting things with sticks), sitting in school thinking about my RPGs, playing video games, eating, and sitting in school doing schoolwork. In that order.

Sorry, but stealthcello wants me to come and sand the uprights on the back deck. There's a bit of work to be done before the next wedding. I'll have to post my memories of Redmond High School some other time.

and i don't feel left out at all...

hammerdancer — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:58:30 GMT

...or maybe if I can lie to myself enough, I can make it true. I want to say something sarcastic or sigh loudly or something, but that's not how I work. I'll wait to be given for an invitation before I join them, that way I know they want me there (the downside of this is that when people don't give me an invitation, I wind up thinking that they don't want me along).

hammerdancer — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 05:40:11 GMT

I'd like to take the (perhaps premature) opportunity to thank those who sacrifice a measure of their personal freedom for us.
I'd like to thank the many-times removed ancestors who made it possible for me to be where I am. Why they did it then is long forgotten, but once a year we are encouraged to find the time to think about the sacrifices they made and the risks they took, if not for us, then for the future.
Today my school held a Veteran's Day assembly, in which those among us who served were honored and those who are not were remembered. I noticed that many of my fellow students were restless when the guest speaker was giving us a much-abridged version of his life story. Many of them weren't even bothering to listen. I wonder how many of them think of tomorrow as a day off, nothing more.

Can't Vote, So I'll post instead

hammerdancer — Wed, 05 Nov 2008 04:11:36 GMT

So, being that I'm about a month too young to have a say in the next four years of my country's future, I guess I'll just express myself here.

Both candidates make me nervous. I mix with conservatives and moderates daily at school, and the teachers set out to exclude their opinions from the classroom (which is exactly the way it should be). And as I can't pretend to understand the economy issues, I am limited to responses based on the social issues.

Many of the objections I've heard from my classmates (who were fortunate to be born in time for this one) as to why they won't support Obama were pretty ludicrous ("I just think he's playing the race card too much"). Then again, quite a few who voted for Obama couldn't give a precise answer for their reasoning.

Well, I guess we'll see how things go. Like Sooj said: No slack for the winner.

hammerdancer — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 22:41:53 GMT

- I -
inane and empty
boundless mundanity, I
bland and puposeless

an extended silence why now broken
two cents given those who do not ask them
why such coin proffered, why such words spoken
diamonds are carbon, coal is no gem

a voice rises in pleased declaration
has nothing to say, but none's in demand
enjoys the act of aimless creation
like a child with a box full of sand

wasteful is foolish, so foolish I seem
most words say little, but some speak in kind
so I'll write out my thoughts, and clear I'll dream
I'll walk my mindscape and share what I find

silence is useful but can go too long
my path is clouded, my vision is strong

Phantom of the Opera

hammerdancer — Fri, 26 Sep 2008 21:52:29 GMT

childlike_fancy took me to see Phantom of the Opera at the Paramount on Thursday. It was an excellent performance, in my opinion (which is not a particularly strong one in this case, due to my lack of previous experience with the musical). Oddly enough, the thing that stuck most in the mind was the tiny pizza place where we ate dinner. The owner/cashier/chef of the place was very talkitive, at least he was to childlike_fancy, with whom he flirted with almost constantly.

I can really identify with the Phantom during most of the play, but I think that if Christine and Rowles had been trying to get away from me, I would have let them and gone back to obsessing about the theatre. Oh, and I would have avoided killing people (but I might give a few people a near miss with a sand bag with a mocking note pinned to it that would make it abundantly clear that, theoretically, I could have just popped their vertebral discs and given them a little more than a little visit to the chiropractor.

All in all, a good night.

Yay for Wendy Rule + Skinny White Chick!

hammerdancer — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 17:27:18 GMT

Yay!

Great concert everybody! It was totally worth skipping last night's Werewolf game (I just wish that you guys would stop having so many indoor concerts. I can't spin and watch the indoor shows, and I can't help wanting to spin to music like that).
s00j already posted about the concert, so I'll just say yay again.

Yay!

GSA School Club

hammerdancer — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 21:44:58 GMT

My school is awesome in some ways; one of them is the Gay-Straight Alliance. The 2 year-old brainchild of a student, supported by the Environmental Science teacher, the GSA has more members this year than ever before. The freshmen of RHS will go through their high school years knowing that there is a club of people who will give them support and defense if they need it, and will either understand completely, or do their best to. Is that a step in the right direction or what!?

Creative Writing Assignment Continued

hammerdancer — Sat, 06 Sep 2008 03:20:03 GMT

Yet another passage from the creative writing assignment.

"practice to proficiency

proficiency to skill

skill to confidence

confidence to display

display to vanity

vanity shall be thy downfall

fear shall be thy downfall

impatience shall be thy downfall

self-deprecation shall be thy downfall

swift shall be thy downfall

painful shall be thy downfall

I shall be my downfall"

Assignment: Written Expression

hammerdancer — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 01:48:32 GMT

Really looking forward to this semester. Lots of great classes. Creative Writing, Psychology, Electronics, American Government (with one of my favorite teachers instead of the crusty old conservative that used to teach it!), Drama 1, and Marketing 101. This looks like a moderately pleasant year ahead.
The following is my favorite part of my response to a Creative Writing assignment. The assignment names the writer as subject.

'the world turns upside-down

and revel in the falling

but the world will prove itself correct again

and the fall can never last forever

you will never fly

you will always be lower than the ground

pray you will get up again

trust in the ground

warm in your crater'

And as the final days of summer wound into the Past

hammerdancer — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 08:09:48 GMT

And as the final days of summer wound into the past
he found that he did not mourn its passage
as he'd always done before.

What changed he wasn't sure
why he couldn't tell
but he felt no regret
as the summer breathed its last.

Inspecting the season's break
he saw again the time he spent
on the ways in which he could relax
when barely out school's door.

The scenes spin by
the weeks fly by
and a ray of summer light
fell upon his face.

But now he sees the summer's end
and soon to school return again
and where the body is captive
the mind can but yearn.

And though his weeks will grind by
he will keep his face to the sky
in hopes that the light comes again
to heal the damage self-inflicted.

The more the animal fights it
the more the trap bites in
future's looking overcast
with a chance of sunbreaks.

He sits, in a chair, at a desk, thinking
now and in a week
about how life works
writing out his mind.</div>

Well at least it's cooler

hammerdancer — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 20:27:39 GMT

Rain.
I can appreciate rain, even enjoy being rained on (the secret is in keeping your eyebrows from scrunching up). But I also prefer that rain wait until I want it to rain. Bah.

It's already the 18th of August! My summer holiday is nearly over! If it hadn't been so eventful I might be more upset! I am quite satisfied with my use of it (especially that part of it after Faerieworlds), and it does not seem to have been squandered when viewed from afar like some of my holidays.

I just wish I could make things continue like this for a while, pause growth and development the world over for a time, and savor what I have while I have it. But then, that has always been what I wished. Stop growing up.

How fortunate I am, to be surrounded by people who care about me and my family, to be able to excercise the freedoms that I do, to have to worry about financial matters and not deal with them, to be able to appreciate things like being rained on, to be able to write and think and imagine, to be able to examine my feelings and consider their source, to be inundated and immersed in music written by brilliant minds and performed by brilliant people, to have my senses, to have my health, to have the time, to be me. How fortunate I am to enjoy life.

I think I will go and climb a tree.

The Logical Extension of this Plan...

hammerdancer — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 15:31:11 GMT

Alternate Titles Include: "Hey! I needed that!', "I lost my sleep -- can I borrow yours?", and "No energy drinks past this point".

Hmmm... Seems to me that the logical extension of this plan is on a similar level of potential success to the Pointy-Haired Bosses' Hummer that ran on owls.

You see, sleep is a nessessary part of the human experiance; if denied one for too long, other, less important areas of life are sacrificed to make up for the lack, such as spelling, grammar, and punction.

Last night, I couldn't make my brain shut up and sit down, so I waited until 6 o'clock before I gave up and got up. I took a Gurona (?) pill, but I will drink energy drinks like I'll spray roundup on my garden (if I had a garden, this would be a better metaphor. simile?)

Anyway, with my weekends the way they are, I cannot afford to be out of sleep. In a perfect world, my evening would have run thus: (1) Do stuff until I am finished loading/unloading chairs, instruments, etc for the Cerulian House concert; (2) finish panicking, have a good time at concert; (3) reload chairs, instuments, etc, get driven homeward; (4) go to Changeling late, stay later.

Now, I feel I am forced to choose to either not go to the concert in a probably pointless attempt to catch up on sleep (and likely be more pleasant by my absence), or not go to Changeling for the second week in a row (there will always be another game; but my character is apparently a vital one in the current plot arc, which was delayed until this week by Polycamp). Maybe I could go to Changeling late and leave early! Yeah! Then I can pencil in like, 10 hours of sleep time for tomorrow!

Good. I'm glad we talked about that. I feel much better circutry-wise. Now all that remains to be done is a kind of blanket apology to anybody and everybody who has to deal with my lightly zombified state, as zombies never really mean to call anyone fathead.

Tune of: The Girl in the Garden

hammerdancer — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 21:01:00 GMT

the stars are holes in a crystalline globe
holes in the sky to let the rain in
can only be known in the comfort of night
the girl in the darkness and i

one night, two days and back, back again
she catches my eyes and works wonders
her face and her hair, hold my mind like a prisoner
girl in the darkness and i

the stars in their courses will run
bring my thoughts earthward to fear her
the ends of the earth fall nearer
to the girl in the darkness

Stale

hammerdancer — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 05:25:26 GMT

Waa. I feel stale. Had a lot of trouble writing. Almost didn't post.

Maybe I'm just tired, but I seem to be shifting back to black & white vision. That sucks.

Is that all it takes to drain me of inspiration and enthusiasm? One weekend of gaming-as-usual?

No. There are other factors. I'd be foolish to believe that gaming is the root of dryness, but it probably doesn't help.

I need something. I need to figure out what I need and get myself to admit it.

I'm afraid of what I need. Maybe that's it.

Then again, maybe I'm just tired.

I think I'll go to bed.

Goodnight.

Necklace Poi!

hammerdancer — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 22:09:14 GMT

OK, so here's the idea: Necklace Poi.

Isn't it brilliant?!

With necklace poi, one would never have to be poiless! One could spin at school or at the bus stop!

The problems are many, and I would appreciate contribution, so that I can actually make a set of necklace poi before school starts.

The first horde of problems are with the weight of the poi, which would have to be nonlethal, small and light enough for a necklace, and look better than, say, a pink eraser on a string.

There is next the method of affixing the weight to the necklace, as the attachment must be more than adequate for the stress and forces poi are subject to, yet must weigh less than the weight and must look halfway decent.

Can anyone see any problems I missed or solutions to those I didn't?

Writer's Block: God For a Day

hammerdancer — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 20:50:52 GMT

First, I would inform the world in no uncertain terms that the office of God is under new management, and that all engagements made by the previous officeholder are null and void. This would be done in the voice-from-heaven manner, in addition to identical messages appearing simultaneously on all recording devices (functional or not), the introduction of a new first page in every book bearing the missive, and the interruption of all television programs and dreams for a brief message from God. Oh, as an extra precaution, the flags of all nations would sport a condensed and stylized version in the national language of the country's inhabitants.

Second, I will have gone back about 18 years, and have picked roughly 300 newborns of random backgrounds, and have waited another 18 years forward again until I can quietly borrow each for a few minutes (which will actually last some hours standing still), during such sessions I shall inform them of my intention to initiate an equal-opportunity hiring program, designed to create a diverse pantheon of minor deities. After contacting all of the prospective gods' and goddesses' listed references, I shall pay visits to their various antagonists and see in what manner they behave to those they dislike. After I select and deify the appropriate choices, those who were unsatisfactory will be returned to their proper time with only vague memories of their UFO encounter.

Finally, I would go absolutely batshit haywire. I will introduce a vicious computer virus that would crumble the banks and countries of the world. I will create the remains of a dozen hideous creatures that make the head hurt and vision swim, all trapped for untold millennia (roughly 20 minutes moving backward very quickly) under glacial ice. I will alter the course comets to collision courses! I will make the seas rise and the trees dance! I will make 17th century dining tables sprout leaves and shove roots into pipelines! I will make mice intelligent and rats as big as wheelbarrows! I will make cellular phones make random calls to random people! I will make cars go plushy and the roads trampolines! I will reverse the world's orbit and give it a healthy lateral spin! I will turn cowhide into gold and make cows invulnerable! I will make my favorite literary characters come to life! I will create a species of insect with a flaming abdomen that will bore into gaslines! I will make saucers fly! I will make ducks walk south for the winter! I will cause such chaos and havoc that my new pantheon will be forced to act! I will make them right deific wrongs. I will teach them that they are to be idols, not heroes. If they try to solve world hunger by making food appear, I will create a mold in the air that voraciously devours all grains. If they try to interfere directly with the world, I will meet and exceed their meddling. I will tell them that they are to be examples of what humans should be. I will tell them that they are to help without touching. They are to stand apart but visible. They are not to lead, but to inspire leaders. I will tell them that they are new morality, success, justice, and happiness for the people of the world. I will tell them that they must look to the future, see the present, and remember the past. I will tell them that they can help in only the small ways. They must only be your nextdoor neighbor who you have over for dinner sometimes and who unfailingly gives you sound advice. They must only be your cat who comes to sit in your lap when you are upset. They must only be the natural disasters somewhere else that make people draw together everywhere else. They must be the murderers and psycopaths (preferably rather inefficient ones) so that no one else must do it. They must be in the open mind, and must open the closed. They must manage the world and be managed by it. They must work to inspire the world to be what it should be.