EleCivil

I'd say to put on one of today's socks and one of tomorrow's, so as to start the day with one foot forward. That way you can toe the line between the present and the future, keeping step with your contemporaries while at the same time taking stock(ings) of tomorrow's challenges. Can ya dig it, sole man, or am I coming off callused?

Whoa, the last post in this thread was in March of '07. That's almost a year. And there haven't been that many chapters between then and now. Eep. Okay, here goes. Before this time next week, expect to see the following: Chapter 16: "Feint of Heart" - Final chapter! (75% complete) Epilogue: "Fast and Intense" - Just like it says! (50% complete) Afterward: "The Space Dog Has Landed" - For it is an ill wind that blows no minds! (100% complete - this was actually written after the first couple chapters, and used as a road map for where I wanted the story to go) And maybe, some time in the near future, if there's any interest in it, a comprehensive list of every band, musician, and song referenced (either overtly or subtly) in "Laika". (0% complete) I know it's been roughly forever and a half since the last chapter, so if you're the type that likes to re-read a bit before getting to the new one, here's a heads-up. Likewise, for those of you who don't like to start an incomplete story, it won't be incomplete for long. Hi-ho.

I read his books religiously when I was a kid, and I most definitely admired him. I still admire him, as far as writing goes. I had no idea he was a homophobe until years later, in college. Those views don't come through in his books - only in his (rather obscure) political opinion articles and essays. And, really, if the kids are mature enough to seek out and slog though dull political essays, they're probably mature enough to think for themselves. Don't get me wrong - I'm not trying to say that his views aren't offensive, or that they're less offensive because he's got talent. But, at the same time, does the fact that the man's a bigot make his books any less compelling? The award isn't honoring his religious beliefs and his ridiculous opinion articles; it's honoring his novels. Specifically, Ender's Game and Ender's Shadow. I've read them dozens of times (both before and after learning of Card's personal views), and I have yet to find anything remotely intolerant. In fact, seeking an acceptance of those who are different from one's self and being open to other cultures are overarching themes of the Ender series (I mean, come on - "Speaker for the Dead" was the artistic equivalent of Card standing on a soapbox and shouting "DON'T BE JUDGMENTAL AND AFRAID OF OTHER CULTURES JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THEM!" over and over again). The man is a tremendous jackass, but the books have good messages. I completely understand the other side, however - all your points are valid, and I agree with you on most of them.

Y'know, for such a homophobe, his book "Songmaster" sure was gay. In the sense that it was about a young boy who was apparently so beautiful that every man who heard him sing fell in love with him. It was also kinda creepy. Well, whatever. After reading OSC's old opinion articles a couple years ago, I realized that he was a total ass and that we agreed on pretty much nothing. But that's cool. He's still one of my favorite writers. I've read the Ender series (and Shadow series) through so many times that I can almost recite it from memory, and Speaker for the Dead still manages to make me tear up every time. Even his crazy "right wing good guys fight left-wing lunatics in an American Civil War" book held my attention (and anybody who know my political leanings knows that that's pretty impressive). His books on writing are really good, too. The way I see it, you've got to be able to separate the artist from the art, 'cause when it comes down to it, artists are human, and humans usually have at least one trait that everyone else finds reprehensible. If we only credit works by those with the highest virtues (as judged by who?), we'd have to toss out quite a bit of our culture.

Thanks a lot, man. You made pop into my head, again.But, yeah, good article, TR! What's wrong with white socks? I'm wearing white socks. Well, one white sock. The other one's light green.

I found out that my co-workers, boss, and supervisor have been using a nickname for me: "Mr. USA". The USA stands for "Undercover Smart-Ass". One of my co-workers explained it to me like this: "People always say, 'Oh, Civil's so quiet and shy', and I'm like, 'Wow, you've obviously never worked with him.' And I've got to explain, like, 'He's not being quiet, he's got comedic timing, and he's waiting for a set-up.' But that takes a while, so now we just say you're an Undercover Smart-Ass." She's right, so I can't complain. The only thing is, instead of just laughing, now they start a "U-S-A! U-S-A!" chant whenever I say something...er, smart-ass-ish. Ah well. Can't complain about a chant. Speaking of chanting, thanks to an assignment from a rather non-traditional instructor, I've got to write a rap song about educational philosophy. I'm thinking something along the lines of "Bloom's Raponomy" or "MC Vygotsky's Breakbeats of Proximal Development". Any freelance DJs in the house? "Maybe the times we had, they weren't that bad And everything else was part of our path We sang: "I don't know where we go from here" This is the anthem, the slogan, the summary of events And we all just idealize the past." "Somewhere in the Between" by Streetlight Manifesto

Dagnabbit, WriteByThySelf, now you're getting people to associate me with emo. I'm no emo kid, but just for that, I'm gonna hijack this topic, Fourfa style.

Every time someone mentions MS Surface, I can't help but think of this video:

It was "Hey Rebekka" by Stray Bullets, if you were curious. And you're right - I'd be waaaay more offended at people giggling at my taste in music than at...er, the conductor's baton.

Er...If you say so. *Splashes Trab with Isopropylene* Waitasec. Was that innuendo? 'Cause if it was innuendo, you should probably wash that off. You know, before somebody strikes a match or something.

Well...I usually don't stick around unless there's something I need to set on fire, but...okay.

Heh, the cops had more to worry about than me. I'm just a harmless provocateur, man. Mostly Harmless, at least. Though I'm a bit taken aback by the presumption that on-lookers would be giggling. Be ye implying that mine masculine wiles strike less than fear in the hearts of all who daren't avert their eyes?

*Sock-slides into topic with Molotov in one hand and lighter in other* ...Oh, it's just you guys. Thought I heard somebody say something about The System. Er...happy new year. Carry on.

Plans for celebrating New Year's Eve: Step one: Strip to the skin. Free yourself of the trappings of the dying year. To have nothing between you and the fresh embrace of the new solar cycle. Step two: Throw open a window. Feel the breath of the new year on your skin. Also, ventilation for step three. Step three: Set fire to the previous year's calender. Part with the previous year, setting it to rest on your own terms. All anxieties, fears, doubts, and sufferings of the previous year are set ablaze. Step four: Tilt head to the sky and howl. Clothed in nothing but December's embers and January's breeze, let your first utterance of the new year be an unintelligible vociferation. A cry of victory over the previous year and a challenge to the year to come - a proclamation of intent to live loudly and love intensely, letting no impediment overcome such august ambitions. Step five: Sleep. 'Cause it's late and I've got work in the morning. What? I can be practical, sometimes, too. "I must create my own system, or be enslav'd by another man's." -William Blake

"Haji was a punk Just like any other boy And he never had no trouble 'Til he started up his oi band Safe in the garage Or singing in the tub Till Haji went too far And he plugged in at the pub. 'Twas a cold Christmas Eve When Trevor and the skins Popped in for a pint And to nick a bag of crisps Trevor liked the music But not the unity He unwound Haji's turban And he knocked him to his knees. If god came down on Christmas Day I know exactly what he'd say He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins But Oi to the world and everybody wins!" Haji was a bloody mess He ran out thru the crowd He said "We'll meet again, We are bloody, yet unbowed" Trevor called his bluff And told him where to meet Christmas day on the roof Down at 20 Oxford street If god came down on Christmas Day I know exactly what he'd say He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins But Oi to the world and everybody wins!" On the roof with the nunchucks Trevor broke a lot of bones But Haji had a sword like that guy in Indiana Jones Police sirens wailing, A bloody dying man Haji was alone And abandoned by his band Trevor was there fading And still so full of hate When the skins left him there And went down the fire escape (Oi! Oi!) But then Haji saw the north star shining more then ever So he made a tourniquet from his turban, saving Trevor Then repelled down the roof With the rest of the turban And went back to the pub Where they bought each other bourbon If god came down on Christmas Day I know exactly what he'd say He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins But Oi to the world and everybody wins!" If god came down on Christmas Day I know exactly what he'd say He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins But Oi to the world and everybody wins!" " -"Oi to the World" by The Vandals

I think you're confusing me with Ryan Miller - he's the one who said he liked Connecticut Yankee. I haven't read it. Though I do dislike Great Expectations. I read it in middle school and swore off Dickens. Only a year ago did I read Oliver Twist and decided that Dickens wasn't so bad after all.

So, this guy asked me to write an intro to his paper on The Great Gatsby for him. I've never read the book, but I did it anyway. Here's what I gave him: It all started in 1942, when Private Johnny "Slick Hips" Gatsby of the 142nd Armored Tank Division awoke in his barracks and said "What this war needs is a little soul, see?" He immediately began dismantling the weapons and turning them into jazz instruments. The German war machine stood no chance against the funky acid tunes and swinging mid-tempo beats of Johnny Gatsby and his jazz band of brothers. After vanquishing the threat of the Axis, Johnny and three of his best friends, Georgie, Paulie, and Ringo, went on to form another popular band known as "The Beach Boys." The Great Gastby is F. Scott Fitzgerald's legendary chronicling of The Beach Boys' rise to fame and eventual fall from glory. Now, he doesn't believe a word of it, of course, but he says he'll use it anyway, because his instructor has a sense of humor. Plus, he's going to cite me as a source. I believe it's the first time I've ever been immortalized in MLA format. "Rappers say the darndest things That you'll ever hear Like 'I'm edgy' and 'I'm risque' And I say 'Better luck next year.'" -"Avantcore" by Busdriver

I'd read it. But only if you included button-combo diagrams for all the characters' movements. ↓↘→P Ryu rose from his crouching position and reached for Dhalsim, his hands glowing with an unearthly power. The power...of love. Yeah...he sort of embodies everything I can't stand, all at once, and then sets it to a repetitive beat. But that's just me. Diff'rent strokes and so forth.

I wasn't a nonconformist when I was six, man. Hell, I was a hardcore Christian fundamentalist until around twelve.

When I was five, I got to meet the Ninja Turtles on the forth of July. I was thoroughly confused when I noticed that Donatello (my favorite) was carrying what looked like a hunk of PVC pipe instead of his wooden bo staff. I got the distinct impression that these weren't REALLY the Ninja Turtles at all. That, and that their lumbering, felt-covered forms lacked the ninja-like fluidity that I had come to expect. I was glad they were trying, but I remember thinking that if we were to get attacked by the foot clan, these guys wouldn't be much help at all. A year later, I met McGruff, the crime dog. Once again, I was forced into a position to doubt his crime-fighting ability. He was way too soft to beat up any bad guys. And he kept pointing at everybody, as if he expected us to do his job for him. I think that it was these incidents that made me first begin to doubt authority figures in general. The Turtles and McGruff were the most prominent crime fighters of the time, and I had the distinct impression that even I could kick their asses. Granted, McGruff tended to fight abstract concepts like "peer pressure" more than he fought actual bad guys, but still. Why bring this up? Mostly because I was looking through some old pictures and I thought that these were funny. There were some others: Age ten, playing the violin and scowling with my tongue out and my eyes crossed (my usual expression when being forced to play the violin), me as a baby "reading" a Shakespeare anthology as big as I was, etc., but these really got me thinking about how my generation was raised by anthropomorphic crime fighters. Maybe that's why they have to taze us these days - when we see cops, military, etc., at least part of us is thinking about big, clumsy, felt-monsters, the least intimidating things in the world. How can we help but rebel against authority, when the symbols of authority are so damn goofy? Man, I must be in a weird mood today. Ah well. "After being with a peace-punk in black, We're definite that you're never turning back! I love hardcore boys, I love boys, hardcore!" -"I Love Hardcore Boys" by Limp Wrist

Guess I'll have to give it a try, then. But, really, my feet are tough and furry, like a hobbit's. I only use socks to protect my shoes from my feet.

"Totally nude except socks"? If I'm skinnin' down, the socks are the first things to go. I was born in the south, after all - being non-barefoot just doesn't come naturally. Usually fully clothed. Today? Jeans, a "Dunder Mifflin, Inc: Paper Company" t-shirt, and a macaroni necklace.

I got the idea to first start writing when I was fresh out of high school. I discovered Nifty, read a few stories, and thought "Hey, I could do that." At the time, I was fresh out of highschool, jobless, and broke, and spent most of the day hanging out by some train tracks in the woods, juggling. From there, I got the idea to write L&L - a story involving a gay kid who hangs out by some train tracks in the woods, juggling. I know, it was quite a stretch. I got the idea for Laika after going to Plan-It-X Fest and being in the mosh pit while Defiance Ohio played. It was such an intense experience - the best pit I've ever been in. Everybody would throw their arms around each other and lean on each other for support during the slow parts, and then take swings and throw elbows at each other during the fast parts. I was loving every minute of it, but at the same time, thinking about how strange this would look to someone on the outside. I figured that a story about a geeky guy getting thrown into the weirdness of the punk scene would make a pretty good story, and just went from there. Usually, when inspiration strikes, it's either short enough to be a poem or long enough to be a novel. I can never seem to get anything in between. That's why I've only ever written one short story.

Haha, interesting - Justin Timberlake's voice has the exact opposite effect on me. That guy's like...the Antiboner. As far as hot animated characters...um...Murdoc, I guess?

Lovely, Des. It's no "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day", but "Whilst urinating, my mind thou cross'd " is still pretty good. Either way, I'm in a poem, so I'm happy.