March 07, 2010 Ulcerior Motives
Wednesday would have been a normal day, and for the most part it was, until I noticed my chest getting more and more uncomfortable through the day. Well, to the doctor I went, and after some stuff was ruled out, it turns out I have both costochondritis and an ulcer. Now, I've had inflamed cartilage in my chest before, and normally it's very easy to control with Advil or Aleve, and time. But there's a problem here... NSAIDs, which can control inflammation and pain, also aggravate ulcers.
The hospital prescribed Tylenol for the ulcer and the endoscopy-induced sore-throat that found it, but nobody said anything about the costochondritis. How do you reduce inflammation without NSAIDs? Ice kinda helped, but luckily I had some leftover Hydrocodone from a previous injury, and that helped immensely. Before that, I spent nights trying and failing to sleep, drudging through most of the day in pain, and planning my next visit to the clinic.
The hospital still hasn't called to tell me the results of the stomach biopsy, so I don't know if the ulcer was caused by Helicobacter Pylori or something else. If it is H. Pylori, I'll need a specific type of antibiotics to kill them, or my stomach lining could spawn other ulcers. So I'll be making some phone calls tomorrow. What's really annoying is that I had to cancel two other appointments on Thursday and Friday while sorting out this whole "why is the left side of my chest in pain" issue, one of which took two months to schedule.
I did see Alice in Wonderland in 3D with Jen on Saturday, however. I liked it, but something about the whole thing seemed forced. I did enjoy it though, so don't let my pain-fueled disdain aversely derail your plans. About half way through the film, I had to squirm into several positions until one was at least somewhat free of discomfort. We had great seats because we showed up early, and I think the whole three hours I spent outside the house may have been too ambitious while under-medicated. I can only hope this coming week goes better.
Until Tomorrow
March 01, 2010 Repeated Viewings Mandatory
I originally wanted to take it easy this Saturday and failed miserably. I started the day off by seeing Shutter Island at the theater two miles from my apartment; it's an awfully convenient jaunt down the road, and I actually woke up early enough to catch the first matinee. One thing I can say about this film, was that it actually had me second-guessing myself for its entirety.
Another thing I can claim, is that I actually enjoyed the process. My first theory was of course completely wrong, but every subsequent revision was equally invalid, and worse, sometimes completely backwards from the eventual conclusion to the plot. Even more disparaging to my deductive prowess, was that it was so obvious in retrospect I actually face-palmed as the final scene played out. It's quite a feat to demand the audience's attention, another to present obvious clues, and quite another still to correctly disregard their analytical prowess. The clues are there, but so clearly stacked in favor of the protagonist, you can't help but ignore or misattribute them.
The strangest thing, I think, is the bland overused characters are part of the conspiracy to misdirect. It's clearly a noir crime thriller. A detective has come to an insane asylum to find the whereabouts of an escaped patient, having been drawn there by an underlying wariness of some larger wrongdoing by the doctors there, one of which is revealed as a German who coincidentally shares a taste in musical composers with a former commander at Dachau. Our man Teddy and his suspicions are confirmed at every turn, and some only make him outright belligerent at the apparent disregard the doctors have for his investigation. And now he's stuck there, after being lured by highly-placed men and women who want to end his dangerous questions. They can't have a detective poking around their secret experiments in the human mind.
What I found most revealing about the final scene, was that it completely changes the entirety of the movie, and proves to me just how skilled these actors are. It's all a matter of perspective, and I would not turn down another opportunity to see this movie, if only to watch it again from a different vantage point. I can't even say why, because even the tiniest hint would be a massive spoiler. But I can tell you this isn't the first movie to use misdirection as a plot element. I fully endorse this film, and while I can't personally guarantee everyone will enjoy it as much as I did, I can strongly advocate putting it on your to-do list.
Until Tomorrow
February 23, 2010 Chronologically Flawed
I've lived in a few rough areas. But oddly enough, I've only been threatened once or twice while wandering around the neighborhood.
Summer in Tacoma is a wild experience. Everyone who's never lived there claims it rains every day, and that we never see the sky, but they couldn't be more wrong. Really, I've never experienced a more temperate and enjoyable climate since, and it's easy to wish for the broken clouds and crisp breeze off the Puget Sound now that I'm sequestered here in the harsh extremes of Illinois. July of 1990 proved no different than the rest, and we'd recently moved to a house in the northern end of town.
I liked this place more than most, because it was a lackluster Queen Anne, where part of the porch had clearly come later than the rest. It might seem strange that I liked it, but the architecture was inescapable, a wild cherry tree grew in the front yard, and the back yard was more than large enough to support even the most ambitious landscaping; it was however, torturous to mow. My favorite feature was probably the old and craggy oak which also stood in the front yard, but was long dead. It imposed a surreal quality to the place, almost as if it were transplanted directly from a horror film.
It's just one of the many places we lived while being somewhat destitute. One benefit to being a veritable Gypsy is the variety of living conditions we experienced. Out of them all, this had the most charm. Unfortunately the neighborhood itself nestled firmly in a well-known Crip territory, though we didn't learn this until much later. Our street was actually not very far removed from several run-down apartment complexes, an A&W joint, and a Taco Bell—maybe three blocks total from all three. As a consequence, I often explored the immediate surrounding blocks, if only because it's what kids do.
One day that summer, I was dispatched to acquire food at A&W, which I'd only recently discovered since it was slightly beyond my usual radius. On the way, two girls asked me for some money.
No way, I thought. I shook my head no. I was just as poor as they were, and I didn't want to risk getting into a fight, so I shrugged my shoulders and kept walking.
"C'mon, man! We live around here. We'll pay you back." Her voice was too close. It was clear they had started following me, and I didn't really know what to do. I kept walking.
"Fuck you too, cracka! I'll get my brother and bus' you!" she yelled, her friend adding a few choice curses to emphasize the point.
I kept walking. A distinct chill ran up my spine, but I knew she was just bluffing; I'd heard it all before. At least, that's what I hoped. In reality, shortly after we finished eating, the neighbor kid from across the street came over and informed me they paid him a visit. Apparently, they did live in the area, and had seen me at his house at least once in the past, so they inquired where to find me.
Of course he didn't tell them, but upon hearing this story my mom got scared and said, "You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air."
I whistled for a cab and when it came near The license plate said 'fresh' and it had dice in the mirror. If anything I could say that this cab was rare, but I thought, "Nah, forget it. Yo, homes to Bel-Air!" I pulled up to the house about 7:00 or 8:00 and I yelled to the cabbie, "Yo homes smell ya later!" Looked at my kingdom; I was finally there, to sit on my throne as the prince of Bel-Air.
February 17, 2010 A Serious Inquiry
Dear Freddy Krueger,
I have long enjoyed your work. Eviscerating children is also one of my favorite hobbies! I was wondering about the specifications you used for the glove blades, and the honing/stropping methods you used. All of the limb-gouging tools I create never quite seem sharp enough...
I know you have a busy schedule of invading dreams and terrifying occupants of Elm Street with a dizzying barrage of convoluted and psychologically unraveling horrors, but I'd greatly appreciate your input. My meat-hooks for example, can only penetrate two or three inches into the average teenage spinal-column, which makes it excessively difficult to suspend them over a boiling vat of human organs. I'm also unable to cause screaming faces to erupt from their viscera and suckle for hypodermics full of blended baby heads.
In any case, please know your countless hours tormenting innocent youth is not being overlooked!
Sincerely yours,
The Mangler
P.S. Love the sweater!
February 05, 2010 The Thunderdome of Reading
It would seem that I read a lot more than I thought. My book pile was dwindling and I wondered how that was possible, since I had at least six or seven in the pile before the holidays. Well, as it would turn out, between the train rides and reading before bed, I consume more than my fair share of books. So, what did I read during January? In order:
Stephen King's Under the Dome
Mr. King has a disturbing knack for producing weighty tomes on occasion. This one tilts the scales around 1200 pages, and while some may disagree, I don't feel like it was dragging anywhere. In true King fashion, we seem to get a perfect storm of coincidences and unfortunate circumstances to wring every last drop of misfortune from the town he chooses to obliterate. The whole time, I was angrily shouting for a particular character's death because it was all his fault. King makes sure you know early, so you can spend a good majority of the book anticipating when he'll die, or his plans will go awry, or something, anything other than what actually happens.
This is clearly a nod back to King's earlier work as Bachman, and he admits as much in the book's introduction. It's one of the stories he started a long time ago, but never fleshed out until recently. If you've been staying away from his work because you think he sucks now, stop it! This is better than Duma Key, which itself was actually pretty engrossing.
Dan Simmons' Carrion Comfort
I'm a long-time fan of Simmons. The Hyperion Cantos, Summer of Night, and A Winter Haunting, are all some of my favorite books in their respective genres. Sure, The Terror was so boring it made my want to pry my eyes out with my bare hands, but we all make mistakes.
Carrion Comfort is Simmons' second book, which garnered him a Hugo. I tend toward scifi and horror, but for some reason, I thought much of his earlier work was a string of thrillers, much to my chagrin. As it stands, Carrion Comfort is a solid work. Here, vampires are real, but they control minds instead of drink blood. The implications are not quite as fully explored as I hoped, but it's an exceptionally layered novel and fully deserving of the several awards it won. That it was almost never published at all is a crime, and proves just how insipid publishers are, and just how competitive the book market really is.
Joel Shepherd's Crossover
Shepherd is a new author, but he's got something strong with his Cassandra Kresnov Series. It starts a little weak and the writing is awkward at times, but he's built an intriguing cast and provided a semi-believable backdrop for them to explore. It's difficult reading over all the UK English spellings, but apparently some of my favorite authors are European, so I have little choice. Either way, Shepherd explores the usual themes you'd encounter with a fully manufactured humanoid integrating into society and the implications therein. I won't really know the complete direction this goes until I read one or two more of the series, but it's a good start. Consider giving it a look.
Jeff Noon's Vurt
Vurt is... fucking weird. Seriously, what the hell is this? It's like A Scanner Darkly meets LSD. A bunch of kids get high on virtual reality so entwined with the world, it can alter reality itself. It's like reading someone attempting to chronicle a series of drug trips, and... it actually works. Vurt is excellent, enthralling even. Made-up words drive a breakneck pace through scenes imaginary and insane, yet I felt for the characters and wanted some tiny happiness for them, and that was even before their lives became truly difficult. I'll definitely need to pick up more of Noon's work.
Dan Simmons' Song of Kali
Ah yes. Simmons wrote one book to start his career, and it won a World Fantasy Award at a ceremony he barely managed to attend. That he did this and still had trouble finding a publisher should be a sobering wakeup call to every aspiring writer out there. As a first novel, it's very solid writing, and even in Calcutta, swarming with presence and full to bursting with human activity, he manages to make the characters and the reader feel isolated and wary. What should have been an uneventful trip to India to inverview a poet becomes something much more sinister, and Simmons peels away the human psyche as he attacks every weak spot we seem to have.
Kali is needlessly cruel. The seemingly nonsensical way she gets revenge for being thwarted is both imaginative and pointless, just as a Goddess might act to swat a pest. I spent the whole book hoping the characters would somehow escape India unscathed, knowing such a thing was impossible, but not really understanding the mechanism of their destruction until long after the last page turned. There are some scares, but this is mostly a psychological horror novel, and Simmons accomplishes through inference what most writers need to fully explain. It reminded me again why I love his writing.
Now, I know my writing is nowhere near the caliber of any of the authors here, with the possible exception of Mr. Shepherd. But it's something I can aspire to. But Dan's tale of woe in finding a publisher for Carrion Comfort tells me that there's too much competition in the writing world, and even good authors can get a bad break. So I'm taking an alternate route: digital publishing. I've published Rabbit Rue at Smashwords because for better or worse, electronic books are the future. As the technology necessarily improves, it's inevitable that more ebooks will continue to be sold. I plan on getting in early, and will try my best to be prolific. I'm still trying to figure out how to acquire an audience, but I'm sure it'll come with time. As long as someone reads and enjoys my stories, I'm content.
Until Tomorrow
