Friday night musings (on Saturday morning)

Some interesting coincidences have been happening the past few days.

First I was out walking the dog, and I started thinking about my friend (former lj friend) , for no reason (and he hasn't posted in ages) and I decided that when I got home from the walk I would check my friends page and I would see a post by him and what do you know...

Then I was walking the dog on a day when I had decided to go to Michael's afterward and get some yarn, and what did I see while I was out walking the dog? A woman knitting. People don't knit in public a lot where I live. I went up and talked to her about it. Then later when I was at Michael's I was looking in the yarn section and I met someone who is on LJ in the crochet community.

Just some interesting synchronicity.

"Of course, when the sunrise comes, people don't usually shoot back at it."--Lewis Black

This was an interesting read.

Now, I have no intention of hating on Muslims or being racist against Middle Eastern people whatsoever, but there is this from the Book of the Law, from the chapter on the god of War and of Vengeance:

"I am in a secret fourfold word, the blasphemy against all gods of men.
Curse them! Curse them! Curse them!
With my Hawk's head I peck at the eyes of Jesus as he hangs upon the cross.
I flap my wings in the face of Mohammed and blind him.
With my claws I tear out the flesh of the Indian and the Buddhist, Mongol and Din.
Bahlasti! Ompedha! I spit on your crapulous creeds!"

BOTL, 3:49-54

What really got me thinking was this bit from the article (and here is where I'm gonna start talking about how it's the little things that fuck you up, not the big glaring things.):

"Secularists are Muslims who do not have a knowledge of the contents of the Koran and only know a verse or two to justify enjoying their life such as 'Wealth and children are the adornment of the life of this world.' These should be cursed right along with the others."

This rang a bell with me because my family (who wouldn't be caught dead in church) is very proud of telling people they live by the "Golden Rule" and that's good enough for them.

"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Now, my parents are the kind of people who treat everyone as fairly and as kindly as they know how in their day to day lives, and are often disappointed by the fact that others don't often do the same. It seems as though they save all their rage for each other (and sometimes me, but that's a whole nother issue.)

Anywho, the Golden Rule is from Matthew 7, which (like most of the bible) is promise-based injunctions, sort of "don't do this, or this will happen, do this, and this will happen."

What I wonder is, does living according to a promise-based platitude from a crapulous creed actually place someone under a curse? I don't necessarily mean a "curse" as in someone putting a hex on you, but is there a spiritual imprint that is left?

Getting back to the Muslims, the ideas in this article would explain the recent things I've been hearing about how the militant Muslims have been occupying mosques and stocking them with guns...

Just something to think about. In no way is this meant to encourage anyone to stop hating Bush by the way...

Nuthin' Matters & What If It Did?

Nihilist Bear

Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
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I got this one before. The word "nihil" means "nothing".

"For I am perfect, being Not..." Liber Al, 2:15

Fook yeah!

You are a True Metalhead. You dig the
classic music and the classic lifestyle. As
metalheads go, you're pretty open-minded in
terms of music and lyrics; if it rocks, then
you'll listen to it. Concerts are the pinnacle
of the metal experience, though sometimes they
get a little too crazy. You generally respect
everybody else, but as far as you're concerned,
they all wish they were Priest or Maiden.


What Kind of Metalhead Are You?
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Up the Irons!!! \m/

"Now ye shall know that the chosen priest and apostle of infinite space is the prince-priest, the Beast; and in his woman called the Scarlet Woman is all power given. They shall bring the glory of the stars into the hearts of men."

Aleister Crowley--The Book of the Law, 1:15

I just found out that the twelfth was the Feast of the Beast and His Bride. Happy belated Feast Day, here's wishing you blessings that bring the glory of the stars into your hearts.

You are the the Hierophant card. The Hierophant,
called The Pope in some decks, is the preserver
of cultural traditions. After entering The
Emperor's society, The Hierophant teaches us
its wisdom. The Hierophant learns and teaches
our cultural traditions. The discoveries our
ancestors have made influence the present.
Without forces such as The Hierophant who are
able to interpret and communicate traditional
lore, each generation would have to begin to
learn anew. As a force that is concentrated on
our past and our culture, The Hierophant can
sometimes be stubborn and set in his ways. This
is a negative trait he shares with his zodiac
sign, Taurus. But like Taurus he is productive.
His traditional lore can provide a source of
inspiration for the creatively inclined, and
his knowledge provides an excellent foundation
for those who come into their own in the
business world. Image from: Morgan E.
Cauthers-Knox.
http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/loth/m/o/morganc/morganc.html


Which Tarot Card Are You?
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Interesting. I've gotten this as a life card according to some book somewhere. I have a very strong Inner Teacher (of course, I don't always listen to it, shame on me!) which also means I have a love of learning at the same time.

Digging Up Ghosts

"All writing of the narrative kind, and perhaps all writing, is motivated, deep down, by a fear of and a fascination with mortality--by a desire to make the risky trip to the Underworld and to bring something or someone back from the dead."

Margaret Atwood--Negotiating With the Dead: A Writer on Writing

So last night I'm sitting in Wendy's having dinner, reading an interview with Margaret Atwood in Writer's Digest. All of a sudden it occurs to me, this Wendy's is situated on the spot where once was an A & W. The very same A & W where, over 20 years ago, I used to sit and hang out with a friend who once told me she might be related to Margaret Atwood. A friendship long dead.

I started having an imaginary conversation with the friend's "ghost":

"I wonder what it's like being a published author. You know, that would be the pinnacle of success for me--to be a published author and have my book made into a movie like Margaret Atwood or Stephen King."

"What would you write about?"

"I'd write about us. About growing up during the 70s and 80s, hanging out in coffee shops and fast food places. It would be like an 80s version of 'Grease'."

"Somebody already made that movie--"Fast Times at Ridgemont High'."

"Yeah, but the trouble with 'Ridgmont' is it was done pretty much as it was happening. The beauty of movies like 'Grease' and 'American Grafitti' is that they are filtered through the perspective of 20 - 30 years later--they had nostalgia going for them."

Then I started thinking, what with the internet and the 80s being trotted out as a fad every two years, do we have the ability to be nostalgic about things in that way any more?

This is my lullabye tonight

Forever

And to think that he was listening to the artist he covers here, round about the time I was spending all my money at the Record exchange in Burlingame, listening to this same artist and dreaming of someone just like him. (sigh.)

He definitely has someone in mind here, I heard somewhere he was getting married. Probably to someone who never heard these songs in their short life.

That's ok, Dave, we'll always have the time I said "Woohoo Dave!" and you said "Woohoo YOURSELF!" It was love, you know it.

Musical Meanderings

It occurs to me that I have not sufficiently pimped my Launchcast Radio Station.

For people like me who don't feel much like bothering with Napster or Kazaah, the principle is simple: you sign up, program in your musical preferences, they play you stuff, and you sort of vote for the music you like the best by rating the song, artist, and genre. It plays further music based on how you vote.

Oddly enough, my station as it stands now doesn't play enough Counting Crows and is a little top-heavy in the metal department (of course, who doesn't like a little Pantera now and again?) but perhaps the more I work with it this will rectify itself. That would be my only complaint--that you need to get the paid version in order to get different "moods" programmed in so you could listen according to what you felt like at the time.

Another interesting discovery in online music that I've made is that Bruce Dickinson has a radio program, and has made himself over to the point where he looks and sounds every bit as one would imagine those BBC radio personalities do. Not altogether unobjectionable, as one of them might say.

I found out about this through Rocksnobs, which is a blog my inner High School Senior would love to have written. Of course, they didn't have the internet back then...

For the past couple of days my parents have been gone, visiting my brother (the one I like , the gay one) in Chicago. They will be back on Tuesday. I proceded to spend the first night to myself staying up til 8 am. Then I had to get started on my plans for my few days alone.

I like to spend time cleaning my room when my parents are gone. It sometimes involves throwing things out, and moving some of my junk into another room while I vacuum, dust, throw shit away, and move stuff around.

Anyway, the first order of business was to get some storage units. Not just any storage units, but bookshelves for the many books that are littering my floor. What this meant, was that I had to get some milk crates. I waited til about midnight to go get some. Not being sure how the stores feel when you go and take their milk crates, I like to do it on the sly.

So I got my expandable luggage cart, and set out for the Baskin & Robbins at the local strip mall where I had been able to gank some before. Of course this time there weren't any.

I looked up at the end of the strip, at the Mollie Stone's, I heard some music and voices coming from there. I assumed it was the people who worked there, winding up for the night. Actually, it was a bunch of kids playing cards at a table in front of the store. The kind of kids that sit around at Starbucks drinking coffee until the place closes, then they're so hyped up on caffiene they can't go home and go to sleep, so they go somewhere else and sit around. You could call them "coffee shop kids", they seem to have a culture all their own.

It was strangely peaceful there, at the end of the mall in the middle of the night, kids with pink hair and glasses playing cards at a table, at the other end of the tables sat an affable looking security guy. It was one of those weird quiet moments that I like about the middle of the night. I occasionally find myself out and about in the middle of the night, and this night's somnambulent errands made me feel a little weird.

I asked if they had any idea which store I was most likely to find some crates, they suggested I look behind Longs. I did and found the mother lode. I wished I had a truck and a house of my own to bring a bunch of junk to, because I could have built my own furniture with some of the crap I found back there. I know one day I will be a serious dumpster diver.

I got six crates, stacked them up and lashed them to my luggage cart. I made my way home, pushing my cart through the middle of the street.

I am such a weirdo.