One day, my son
No one will remember
That construction and lawn care tools were once ear-splitting
Head-cracking
Usurpers of peace and quiet
Enemies of concentration
Befoulers of productive thought.
Yes, the day will come
When the broom, perfected centuries ago
But long forgotten
Will take its hallowed place in the hands of the landscaper guy
Deposing the terrible reign of the angry
Screaming
Leaf blower.
Stonecutters will whisper no more harshly than does the fur of a lion aprowl
Neatly, gently
Slicing bricks and shoringstones
Into pleasing shapes
While colorful finches enjoy bright songs
In the nearby trees.
Two-by-fours will segment
Like so many pats of butter
The buzz of the circular saw nigh indistinguishable
From that of a bumblebee.
Jackhammers like jackrabbits
Lawnmowers like breezes
Nail guns like girlish sneezes.
In which I shamelessly abuse the internet.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Wednesday, April 02, 2014
After Spending the Last 6 Months in Pajamas...
Some things I thought I'd share now that I've been back at work, commuting to Downtown Chicago every day. Some of this stuff may not be especially shocking to you, but after writing for 6 months in my pajamas with my cat planted firmly on my legs for hours at a time, it's pretty shocking to me.
This company (a high-end hotel chain) owns the entire building, which is a skyscraper. You have to pass through a metal detector, and you have to place your bags on a scanner thing, before being allowed into it. If you beep they politely scan your whole body with an illuminated golfball detector. I tried to walk through once with an empty bag, and even though it didn't set off the metal detector they stopped me anyway and made me go back put it through the scanner. This is, by the way, after you’ve already used your keycard to gain passage through the initial turnstiles. All of this security requires about 5 full-time security guards. It being the tail end of a ridiculously long winter, usually I arrive basically sealed into a suit of armor designed to protect me from the weather, the sun and public annoyances. Peeling all that apart is something of a chore that often results in my belongings dropped and kicked and skating across the floor.
This company (a high-end hotel chain) owns the entire building, which is a skyscraper. You have to pass through a metal detector, and you have to place your bags on a scanner thing, before being allowed into it. If you beep they politely scan your whole body with an illuminated golfball detector. I tried to walk through once with an empty bag, and even though it didn't set off the metal detector they stopped me anyway and made me go back put it through the scanner. This is, by the way, after you’ve already used your keycard to gain passage through the initial turnstiles. All of this security requires about 5 full-time security guards. It being the tail end of a ridiculously long winter, usually I arrive basically sealed into a suit of armor designed to protect me from the weather, the sun and public annoyances. Peeling all that apart is something of a chore that often results in my belongings dropped and kicked and skating across the floor.
Once inside, there is another full-time security person whose only job is apparently to make sure nobody steals from or otherwise fucks with this tiny little quickie mart of the sort found in lots of building lobbies. She has to stand behind a wall that separates her from her colleagues screening out bombs etc., and so doesn't get to fraternize as they do, so she's especially bored-looking.
The lobby for this particular branch of the company is on the 12th floor -- the next 4 floors above are designed to provide this lobby with a 4-floor-high ceiling. The floors and furniture, and a little coffee and tv station, are all dark stained wood. The stairs and bannisters are all brushed steel and layers of greenish plate glass. There are bowls of real green apples everywhere that nobody eats. There is a bench to sit on while you wait for whatever. It's a huge tree split down the middle. On my third day I still didn't have a keycard, and they forgot all about me. I waited in this lobby four floors below by destination for 45 minutes until I finally sent an email to the only person for whom I had an email, and she came down just as the secretaries were starting to get suspicious of me.
If I want both coffee and water, I have to use a thermos with a handle for my water so I can carry both with one hand, because I need to use my other hand to both reach into my pocket to grab my keycard to swipe it at multiple doors, and then to open the doors, whenever I want to go anywhere.
In order to get to the kitchen I must pass through no fewer than four doors (up to 7 doors if I want to go to the bathroom first – the bathrooms have buffer areas (kind of nice)). The bathrooms are the most direct route to the kitchen. Otherwise I have to go wide past the elevators. Either way I have to beep through two separate doors.
The manager of the creative team speaks but doesn’t write fluent English. Much of my job is figuring out what she actually means.
Both of these people are so busy that I see them on average of once per day for five minutes for a quick update on everything that is happening, and all my email inquiries usually take between about an hour and a half to a full day to be replied to. This goes for feedback on drafts as well -- 80% of my day is waiting for feedback. I am writing this while waiting for feedback.
I was never actually asked to do what turned out to be the very most important thing I was hired to do, I just eventually figured out that it needed to be done. In fact, the information I was given would have led anyone to do something completely different than this. I’m sure (I think) if I hadn’t figured it out they eventually would have asked me to do it, but I know for a fact that one of the other copywriters was screwed over by a similar situation, failing epically, apparently.
On the second floor of the building there exists basically the best food court I've ever seen. I'm currently eating my way through their ridiculously vast, delicious menu. I had forgotten how much I liked taco salads.
I’ve been here for three weeks and I’m still bumping into people I swear I’ve never seen before in my life.
On the second floor of the building there exists basically the best food court I've ever seen. I'm currently eating my way through their ridiculously vast, delicious menu. I had forgotten how much I liked taco salads.
I’ve been here for three weeks and I’m still bumping into people I swear I’ve never seen before in my life.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Scraping More Brain
There is ringing in my ears. It's deep, I can dig but I'll never reach it. It is always there. The discipline within reach for many physical endeavors may be a way to cope, but I will always know where to find it. Instead I would drown it with other noise.
Places that are known to be vile are taken as such by comparison of what is vile means but there are many forms of it. The one that arrives feels personal, and something to not be shared. What are not the crutches of the world are the pillars of the sky. Into the dark cold damp bowel where there are teeth and breaths that left time long ago. The rabbit remembers the breath as the foliage remembers the shrinking of the sun.
What the brain is trained to grasp is what the brain craves, and in denying that the self resists fulfillment. Cracks that appear in the ice don't necessarily weaken its structure, at least in no practical way.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Scraping the Brain
And still if there couldn't have been a fox, a grey charter set against a receding plane so fouled and cracked its resolution is not even a scent memory. You'll get in where everyone else did, and by your own design and wit. There could be something worth hearing in the song after all, you think, or worth predicting. If its that therer were colors that stood in for favors, scenes constructed by a mind for details as much as for impulse, five steps would be little less than the same for seven -- you dig in a meaning for it, a proof clapped against the row of blackboards a mile long, raining a gentle cloud of dust to the scotchguard carpeting.
Problems that get solved too quickly risk failing to instruct, as in fact the speed of it suggests either excessive resource or in the end a lack of a tangible problem at all. There are always windows, and through them it is always possible to draw enough information so as to begin to tell a story. Seeing in through the molecules that span the distance is the clearest way to reach in, to grab something with no particular degree of tangibility and trying to bring it somewhere with contours and gradients. Not allowed were any of the sounds so familiar to break through the typical, or the lessening drive to mold it or them, tracking context in order to graft them on to the mobile idea. Living in a particular way, softness must be answered with asceticism, deny the id if possible, punish the body when not. There is a brain somewhere that can track the elements, the character of the black line on the white field, so that pinching closed the book conjures a hologram of the soul.
Anything can be made a personal design, adopted, co-opted, aped, inspired, the merit is irrelevant in the shadow of its contribution. Does this bring minds to unsought conclusions? Does it add real estate to the realm of the imagination?
To whom to we address our inquiries regarding what should come next? Beacons posting playful messages in an otherwise shrouded atmosphere communicate at enhanced speeds. The chemicals mingle and produce results subtly differnt from the norm. Honor is described on old papers boxed in dusty corners. They should be read once and for all but they are merely there, occupying thought and with the intention that they'd rest as resources, being unwilling to trust the mind to do the proper work of storing with prioritized accessibility, instead that information will always be missed, lost and found again with pleasant surprise when furtive interest grants fractured elements of the whole to be absorbed before distractions cause it to be abandoned again. In this manner the collection of items containing information are hoarded. But there are always more items of information to be encountered, nor is there a need to glean every pixel from every line.
If we leave they will crush us. They will leave faster than flight. Areas of the mind once loyal to the ambitions of the body turn mutinous. And all that is left of the vessel will fall from the current and drift slowly to the cold black crushing deep.
The house was dry, yellow walls thickened by unknown decades of paint, each new tenant transfixed to the present by the control they exerted on it.
Problems that get solved too quickly risk failing to instruct, as in fact the speed of it suggests either excessive resource or in the end a lack of a tangible problem at all. There are always windows, and through them it is always possible to draw enough information so as to begin to tell a story. Seeing in through the molecules that span the distance is the clearest way to reach in, to grab something with no particular degree of tangibility and trying to bring it somewhere with contours and gradients. Not allowed were any of the sounds so familiar to break through the typical, or the lessening drive to mold it or them, tracking context in order to graft them on to the mobile idea. Living in a particular way, softness must be answered with asceticism, deny the id if possible, punish the body when not. There is a brain somewhere that can track the elements, the character of the black line on the white field, so that pinching closed the book conjures a hologram of the soul.
Anything can be made a personal design, adopted, co-opted, aped, inspired, the merit is irrelevant in the shadow of its contribution. Does this bring minds to unsought conclusions? Does it add real estate to the realm of the imagination?
To whom to we address our inquiries regarding what should come next? Beacons posting playful messages in an otherwise shrouded atmosphere communicate at enhanced speeds. The chemicals mingle and produce results subtly differnt from the norm. Honor is described on old papers boxed in dusty corners. They should be read once and for all but they are merely there, occupying thought and with the intention that they'd rest as resources, being unwilling to trust the mind to do the proper work of storing with prioritized accessibility, instead that information will always be missed, lost and found again with pleasant surprise when furtive interest grants fractured elements of the whole to be absorbed before distractions cause it to be abandoned again. In this manner the collection of items containing information are hoarded. But there are always more items of information to be encountered, nor is there a need to glean every pixel from every line.
If we leave they will crush us. They will leave faster than flight. Areas of the mind once loyal to the ambitions of the body turn mutinous. And all that is left of the vessel will fall from the current and drift slowly to the cold black crushing deep.
The house was dry, yellow walls thickened by unknown decades of paint, each new tenant transfixed to the present by the control they exerted on it.
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Dumb Things in Otherwise Well-Regarded Movies 1.1
Anna and I rewatched the Peter Jackson King Kong last night. While at times really great, there are so many things in that movie that are fudged, things that used to firmly compel me to stamp scripts with 'PASS' back when I was doing coverage, followed up with comments along the lines of "script full of overly convenient developments, needs to go through about five more rewrites." I can only guess that producers figured Hey, who cares? It's Peter Jackson! He just made Lord of the Freaking Rings! Seriously, fixing that stuff will fuck everything up. Shut up.
Among the dumb things in this generally well-regarded movie:
- Ann Darrow gets tied up to the thing, and the big monster comes by and yanks her off of the thing. Why does she still have arms?
OK, the knots are really tricky, you have to-aaaaaeeeiii!!
- On the island, it's established that a human can't walk five steps without encountering something awful and huge that wants desperately to eat you. Yet Adrien Brody, a writer from New York, finds Naomi Watts' exact location through the nightmare monster jungle with no apparent difficulty.
- I can accept that a tommy gun might be the right tool for the job to zap away giant crickets trying to eat a person's face off, but the kid doesn't even try to aim carefully -- he wavers and twitches, jerking around with the recoil... You expect to see Brody's head go like a pumpkin. But I guess maybe the kid's a natural. He's got the eye.
Watch the nose, kid!
- How the fuck did they get King Kong on the boat and all the way back to New York, and then into a movie theater?
- Why is there a big black-tie affair at a theater to go and see a giant ape?
- King Kong escapes say an hour after the premier begins, which let's assume was at 10pm, to be generous, then goes on a rampage for about an hour, and then it's suddenly dawn.
You tired? 8 hours of rampaging catches up with you...
- It's cold enough for a lake to be frozen solid enough to support a 10-story ape, yet Naomi Watts wears nothing but an evening dress all throughout the third act, seemingly just fine even at the very top of the Empire State Building, where it would probably be even colder. Windchill!
- Adrien and Naomi are standing and emoting at the very tippy top of the Empire State Building, as if they were just standing in the middle of a sunny field. Even Spiderman would be freaking the fuck out up there.
I know you're cold, but let's scoot in a bit, ok?
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Friday, February 03, 2012
Piece 2.7
Exerpt of a novel I developed with a group of writers. One of several chapters I wrote.
If Melisos was to be believed, that certain men were born with the path to war laid before them, then by my act of killing a man I had awakened to the fact that I was no soldier. Some men, he would say, would understand that violent death was merely entertainment for the gods, and the players on either side of the blade were justly rewarded in Elysium. I saw myself then as having been sorely miscast in this role. Later I would realize that this was selfishness, and that all men exchange by degrees aspects of their prewar selves as they are thrust toward the killing fields by forces of god and man over which they have no hope of control.
But sitting suddenly as a woman in the warm sanctity of my home, on a soft bed, the shock of the killing blow reverberating still in my arm, I felt scarred by the contrast between who I believed I was meant to be and whom it appeared I had become. I was certain that by killing him I had shaken my life loose from whatever convoluted destiny it was supposed to run along, and had thus invited into it the misery and unhappiness weighing down on me.
I stood. I looked around at the room. It was midday. Socrates would be out lecturing. The household seemed quiet, though I felt familiar vibrations of its liveliness in my feet. There were all these familiar things I had forgotten about. The alcove filled with my clothing. The washbasin. Socrates' silly painting of two goats fucking. The window and beyond it the swaying branches of the tree he and I had sat beneath in the early days of our marriage as we ate our simple meals together. All of it so familiar, but simultaneously distant, irreconcilable to my recent memories as a soldier in training. I realized then that I had begun to allow myself to believe that I would never see this place again.
How could I return to Socrates' service as a wife, or take my former passive place in society again after such an experience? Looking at this room, and feeling that the entire city enclosed around me, there seemed less for me in this house, in all of Athens, than before I had first left to join the hoplites. I felt a surge of anger, caught hold of it as I had been taught by Melisos, and quickly shaped it into something useful - in this case a determination to wrest my destiny out of the hands of the gods. I would move beyond the influence of their machinations. I would leave it all behind. I would entrench myself finally into a situation in which it would not matter at all whether I was a woman or a man.
Before I realized what I was doing I had already gathered together several essentials I would need. A spoon. A length of rope. I found a sack and some food in the kitchen, and a cup and a stone knife that would do until I could get my hands on a spatha somehow. I found a clay flask of wine, which I sealed with wax from a candle I also took. Looking at the growing cache, I smiled inwardly, reliving a fantasy I'd had in my days trying to survive Melisos' trial. In those early days of my trial in the wilderness the difference between frustrating hardship and easy efficiency had been as simple a thing as a cup. In light of this there emanated a new power from the objects that lay before me, for I knew that each in turn would contribute to my capturing control of my life. Or it was a power that I felt in myself, a confidence that with my recently acquired skills such tools could be put to good use to keep me alive, in spite of being now a woman again. It felt good.
I packed all of this, some clothing and a blanket into a sack, and then I stole a hooded coat from the servants I would wear over my own to help keep anyone from recognizing me. Dressed and ready I took a final look around the room to see if I had missed anything, thinking of it also as a final farewell.
I had left a comb on my dressing table, a bone four-pronged hair adornment decorated with a flowering grapevine. A gift from Ariastre. I picked it up. Thinking of her brought on a sharp longing. I fastened the comb into my hair. If only just to say farewell as I had to my home. But as I had done with my anger, I intercepted this longing before it had a chance to sap my resolve. Let my escape be from her as well, I thought. And all the confusion she offers. An even greater reason to go.
I covered my head with the hood and walked in a stooped manner so as to dissolve into the milieu of the Athenian day life until night fell, careful to avoid areas where I thought Socrates might venture. I was glad when night arrived with the moon hidden behind cloud cover. Though I would miss the guidance of the constellations I did not want anyone to see in what direction this lonely figure shambled off. I made my way to the southern limits of the city, then down the southerly road. I would walk it until civilization fell away, I decided, and then camp for the night. In the morning I would find a suitable forest, and begin constructing a shelter to call home.
The road was empty and the night was quiet. Despite my best efforts my thoughts turned again to Ariastre. Was it right to leave her like this? Was I again being selfish? I wondered. Eventually she dominated my thoughts, and with each new step my longing for her was amplified tenfold.
I turned around and headed back to the city. I had, after all, been separated from her for many months, my only company the soldiers, and little comfort otherwise. It would do me well to see her, I thought. To reintroduce the feminine into my life so I might carry away with me some kind of balance to this brash person I could see myself becoming. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed a good idea, and I forgot some of my desperation and allowed myself to become excited at the prospect of seeing my friend again.
She was on the second floor, weaving in the candlelight, humming lightly to herself a song I didn't recognize. I watched her for a time from across the road, another twiggy hedge in the twilight at the border of someone's property. Framed as she was by the darkness outside her candlelit room, she looked like an illusion, or an ethereal reflection created to lure men into a warm sea. After a time I realized that I had plotted a vertical course up the stones and garbage piled in the vicinity, and climbing to the window would be a simple matter. I made another quick glance around to see that no one was in sight, then tied the sack to my belt and climbed onto an old plow. I found the steps and handholds I had seen from across the road, and like a ragged monkey I quickly made my way up to her window.
I sat with my head poised in the window, but she didn't look up. Finally, I whispered: "Why aren't you asleep, young lady?"
She started. "Xanthippe!" she gasped, and my melancholy lifted by the brightness of her smile. "What are you doing here? Did you climb up? How in the name of -"
I smiled and hushed her, and pulled myself the rest of the way in landing in heap at her feet when my sack got wedged in the window. She laughed, and helped me to my feet. "Sorry about that," I said, pulling a lock of hair away from my eyes. I gave her a long embrace, longer than I had intended, but was pleased to see it warmly returned.
She looked at the sack at me feet. "What on earth is all this?"
"It's a party in a sack," I said. I opened my sack of provisions, and produced the clay flask. "I brought some wine." I said.
"You naughty girl!" She looked at the door to the room, which I noticed was closed, then pulled the curtain over the window. She brought a stool over from another loom in the corner of the room and we sat. I removed the flask's seal and took a drink, delighting in the rich, fruity taste of the alcohol. I had gone without it for nearly a week, perhaps the longest time since childhood.
I gave Ariastre some wine and she took a long swig. She handed it back and held up what she was weaving. "Pants," she said. "I just learned how to make them. The drunken lug is constantly pissing himself, and I figure the more pants he has the easier it will be for me to get him to change them."
"That is good thinking," I said. "Maybe he would do better with women's clothing?"
She gave me an exaggerated look of warning. "Better not let him hear you say that," she said. "The last person that questioned his manliness ended up with a knife in the eye."
What? I looked at her. "He killed somebody?" I said.
"He claims he did," she said. "I have my doubts." She took the flask from me, swallowed, and gave it back. "If he wanted somebody dead, he would probably get someone else to do it."
"Ariastre..." I took another swig.
She had begun to hum that tune again. "Hmm?"
I watched her hands as she continued to weave the man's pants. They were so delicate, so feminine and lively. I loved her hands. And then I thought: I always get sentimental when I drink.
"I came to say goodbye," I said.
She took another swig and belched, a small rumble shaped into a coo by her purple lips. "But you just got here," she said.
"I mean I'm leaving. Leaving the city. Leaving Athens."
She looked confused. "Why?" she said. "How?"
I didn't answer. I just looked at her face, and leaned in to kiss her. She gave out a muffled laugh of surprise, but then closed her eyes and returned my kiss. The excitement I had felt outside the city at the thought of returning to her now became to me a commanding emotion. Her enthusiasm knocked me flat, cleaned out my head of plans of leaving her behind. I thought: We could do this. I thought: I need not go so far to escape the effects of my changes, not if Ariastre could love me in this way as both a man and a woman.
We released each other. I looked at her, reaching up to touch her face, but she pulled away and laughed. "What was that all about?" she said. She stood, and picked up the pants, and held them before her. "I think these are pretty much done," she said.
I felt like a fool. All I could think of in that moment was how by my impulsiveness I had ruined my chances for a romantic relationship with her. Worse, I had confused our friendship even more.
I stood, picking up my sack. I pulled up the hood of my coat and felt Ariastre's comb. I reached in and pulled it out from my hair, then set it on the stool where I had been sitting.
"Goodbye, Ariastre," I said.
She looked up from her pants and smiled. She made no move to approach me for a farewell embrace. "Goodbye!" she said.
I left the way I had come in. I had been right to plan an escape from this, from her. My resolve returned, fiercely. I strode out of the city intent on never returning again.
If Melisos was to be believed, that certain men were born with the path to war laid before them, then by my act of killing a man I had awakened to the fact that I was no soldier. Some men, he would say, would understand that violent death was merely entertainment for the gods, and the players on either side of the blade were justly rewarded in Elysium. I saw myself then as having been sorely miscast in this role. Later I would realize that this was selfishness, and that all men exchange by degrees aspects of their prewar selves as they are thrust toward the killing fields by forces of god and man over which they have no hope of control.
But sitting suddenly as a woman in the warm sanctity of my home, on a soft bed, the shock of the killing blow reverberating still in my arm, I felt scarred by the contrast between who I believed I was meant to be and whom it appeared I had become. I was certain that by killing him I had shaken my life loose from whatever convoluted destiny it was supposed to run along, and had thus invited into it the misery and unhappiness weighing down on me.
I stood. I looked around at the room. It was midday. Socrates would be out lecturing. The household seemed quiet, though I felt familiar vibrations of its liveliness in my feet. There were all these familiar things I had forgotten about. The alcove filled with my clothing. The washbasin. Socrates' silly painting of two goats fucking. The window and beyond it the swaying branches of the tree he and I had sat beneath in the early days of our marriage as we ate our simple meals together. All of it so familiar, but simultaneously distant, irreconcilable to my recent memories as a soldier in training. I realized then that I had begun to allow myself to believe that I would never see this place again.
How could I return to Socrates' service as a wife, or take my former passive place in society again after such an experience? Looking at this room, and feeling that the entire city enclosed around me, there seemed less for me in this house, in all of Athens, than before I had first left to join the hoplites. I felt a surge of anger, caught hold of it as I had been taught by Melisos, and quickly shaped it into something useful - in this case a determination to wrest my destiny out of the hands of the gods. I would move beyond the influence of their machinations. I would leave it all behind. I would entrench myself finally into a situation in which it would not matter at all whether I was a woman or a man.
Before I realized what I was doing I had already gathered together several essentials I would need. A spoon. A length of rope. I found a sack and some food in the kitchen, and a cup and a stone knife that would do until I could get my hands on a spatha somehow. I found a clay flask of wine, which I sealed with wax from a candle I also took. Looking at the growing cache, I smiled inwardly, reliving a fantasy I'd had in my days trying to survive Melisos' trial. In those early days of my trial in the wilderness the difference between frustrating hardship and easy efficiency had been as simple a thing as a cup. In light of this there emanated a new power from the objects that lay before me, for I knew that each in turn would contribute to my capturing control of my life. Or it was a power that I felt in myself, a confidence that with my recently acquired skills such tools could be put to good use to keep me alive, in spite of being now a woman again. It felt good.
I packed all of this, some clothing and a blanket into a sack, and then I stole a hooded coat from the servants I would wear over my own to help keep anyone from recognizing me. Dressed and ready I took a final look around the room to see if I had missed anything, thinking of it also as a final farewell.
I had left a comb on my dressing table, a bone four-pronged hair adornment decorated with a flowering grapevine. A gift from Ariastre. I picked it up. Thinking of her brought on a sharp longing. I fastened the comb into my hair. If only just to say farewell as I had to my home. But as I had done with my anger, I intercepted this longing before it had a chance to sap my resolve. Let my escape be from her as well, I thought. And all the confusion she offers. An even greater reason to go.
I covered my head with the hood and walked in a stooped manner so as to dissolve into the milieu of the Athenian day life until night fell, careful to avoid areas where I thought Socrates might venture. I was glad when night arrived with the moon hidden behind cloud cover. Though I would miss the guidance of the constellations I did not want anyone to see in what direction this lonely figure shambled off. I made my way to the southern limits of the city, then down the southerly road. I would walk it until civilization fell away, I decided, and then camp for the night. In the morning I would find a suitable forest, and begin constructing a shelter to call home.
The road was empty and the night was quiet. Despite my best efforts my thoughts turned again to Ariastre. Was it right to leave her like this? Was I again being selfish? I wondered. Eventually she dominated my thoughts, and with each new step my longing for her was amplified tenfold.
I turned around and headed back to the city. I had, after all, been separated from her for many months, my only company the soldiers, and little comfort otherwise. It would do me well to see her, I thought. To reintroduce the feminine into my life so I might carry away with me some kind of balance to this brash person I could see myself becoming. And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed a good idea, and I forgot some of my desperation and allowed myself to become excited at the prospect of seeing my friend again.
She was on the second floor, weaving in the candlelight, humming lightly to herself a song I didn't recognize. I watched her for a time from across the road, another twiggy hedge in the twilight at the border of someone's property. Framed as she was by the darkness outside her candlelit room, she looked like an illusion, or an ethereal reflection created to lure men into a warm sea. After a time I realized that I had plotted a vertical course up the stones and garbage piled in the vicinity, and climbing to the window would be a simple matter. I made another quick glance around to see that no one was in sight, then tied the sack to my belt and climbed onto an old plow. I found the steps and handholds I had seen from across the road, and like a ragged monkey I quickly made my way up to her window.
I sat with my head poised in the window, but she didn't look up. Finally, I whispered: "Why aren't you asleep, young lady?"
She started. "Xanthippe!" she gasped, and my melancholy lifted by the brightness of her smile. "What are you doing here? Did you climb up? How in the name of -"
I smiled and hushed her, and pulled myself the rest of the way in landing in heap at her feet when my sack got wedged in the window. She laughed, and helped me to my feet. "Sorry about that," I said, pulling a lock of hair away from my eyes. I gave her a long embrace, longer than I had intended, but was pleased to see it warmly returned.
She looked at the sack at me feet. "What on earth is all this?"
"It's a party in a sack," I said. I opened my sack of provisions, and produced the clay flask. "I brought some wine." I said.
"You naughty girl!" She looked at the door to the room, which I noticed was closed, then pulled the curtain over the window. She brought a stool over from another loom in the corner of the room and we sat. I removed the flask's seal and took a drink, delighting in the rich, fruity taste of the alcohol. I had gone without it for nearly a week, perhaps the longest time since childhood.
I gave Ariastre some wine and she took a long swig. She handed it back and held up what she was weaving. "Pants," she said. "I just learned how to make them. The drunken lug is constantly pissing himself, and I figure the more pants he has the easier it will be for me to get him to change them."
"That is good thinking," I said. "Maybe he would do better with women's clothing?"
She gave me an exaggerated look of warning. "Better not let him hear you say that," she said. "The last person that questioned his manliness ended up with a knife in the eye."
What? I looked at her. "He killed somebody?" I said.
"He claims he did," she said. "I have my doubts." She took the flask from me, swallowed, and gave it back. "If he wanted somebody dead, he would probably get someone else to do it."
"Ariastre..." I took another swig.
She had begun to hum that tune again. "Hmm?"
I watched her hands as she continued to weave the man's pants. They were so delicate, so feminine and lively. I loved her hands. And then I thought: I always get sentimental when I drink.
"I came to say goodbye," I said.
She took another swig and belched, a small rumble shaped into a coo by her purple lips. "But you just got here," she said.
"I mean I'm leaving. Leaving the city. Leaving Athens."
She looked confused. "Why?" she said. "How?"
I didn't answer. I just looked at her face, and leaned in to kiss her. She gave out a muffled laugh of surprise, but then closed her eyes and returned my kiss. The excitement I had felt outside the city at the thought of returning to her now became to me a commanding emotion. Her enthusiasm knocked me flat, cleaned out my head of plans of leaving her behind. I thought: We could do this. I thought: I need not go so far to escape the effects of my changes, not if Ariastre could love me in this way as both a man and a woman.
We released each other. I looked at her, reaching up to touch her face, but she pulled away and laughed. "What was that all about?" she said. She stood, and picked up the pants, and held them before her. "I think these are pretty much done," she said.
I felt like a fool. All I could think of in that moment was how by my impulsiveness I had ruined my chances for a romantic relationship with her. Worse, I had confused our friendship even more.
I stood, picking up my sack. I pulled up the hood of my coat and felt Ariastre's comb. I reached in and pulled it out from my hair, then set it on the stool where I had been sitting.
"Goodbye, Ariastre," I said.
She looked up from her pants and smiled. She made no move to approach me for a farewell embrace. "Goodbye!" she said.
I left the way I had come in. I had been right to plan an escape from this, from her. My resolve returned, fiercely. I strode out of the city intent on never returning again.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Food 1.3
I Hate Sauerkraut
Yum: I hate sauerkraut
I want to nuke saurkraut
I want to take the world's supply of sauerkraut, put it into a rocket and blast it into deep space
pfetzing: thats dumb. kraut is awesome
Yum: Wrong. It's the worst thing ever
pfetzing: that would be lima beans
Yum: lima beans rule
you can get them to sprout on a wet paper towel
you're thinking of water chestnuts
there is absolutely no reason for water chestnuts to exist
pfetzing: lima beans are fine in a casserole...not by themselves tho
i used to put ketchup on them as a kid because they suck so bad
Yum: ketchup is worse than saurkraut
I want to dump the world's supply of ketchup into a volcano
pfetzing: haha. what is your favorite food
Yum: sandwiches
pfetzing: everyone likes sandwiches
u dont put ketchup on anything? not even fries?
Yum: hell no
I hate ketchup
ketchup is on the LIST
All it does is make food wet and red and taste like vinegar
pfetzing: vinegar is good too
a little ketchup and a little vinegar mixed together, and ruffles potato chips...mmmmm
thats a treat my friend
Yum: sure, if you're from planet crap
On Planet Crap, all crappy food tastes good
pfetzing: u wouldnt make it on planet crap. u r too fancy with your sandwiches
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
Review 1.3
THOR
Asked to think of a character that would be impossible to work into the growing Hollywood repertoire of impressive CGI realizations of longtime comic book superfavorites, Thor springs directly to mind – There is no way, one would think, that a days-of-yore-speaking magical Thunder God is going to be taken seriously enough to feel at home with the other super-science Avengers origin stories, or that a studio would be willing to spend the time hanging around in the otherworldly realm of Asgard to portray his. Even recent comic book reimaginings of the Marvel Universe (the extremely popular Ultimates) have dealt with this incongruity by implying that the character is merely a regular old superhuman earthling deluded to believe he is a god.
But the long history of the Marvel Comics Universe is filled with celestial, heavenly and intergalactic conflicts with grand stakes -- Guardians of the Galaxy, The Infinity Gauntlet and The Secret Wars to name a few. While ignoring these expansive corners of the Marvel Universe might seem the obvious route for a film franchise out to keep itself manageable, it was perhaps only a matter of time before the Magic and the Gods worked their way in. And we're already talking about iron men and planet-eating alien entities and guys who turn into invincible green monsters; why not? In any case, the studio has thankfully eschewed the easy route in favor of giving us a real Asgardian origin story. The results are a beautiful, exciting depiction of a world that exists somewhere in the deep recesses of space, a believable deity to root for and a whole new set of rules by which to play.
Thor is a prince of Asgard, a heavenly realm that has been at war with a race of Frost Giants from the very fun to pronounce land of Jotunheim. Following a Frost Giant intrusion into Asgard on the day that Thor was to be named king, Thor leads a team of his friends to pick a fight that ultimately results in his getting stripped of his power and banished to Earth. Cue Natalie Portman, an astrophysicist whose work has centered on a series of weather anomalies that lead to her hitting Thor with an expensive-looking science truck in the middle of a New Mexican desert. Back in Asgard, a shrewd and silver-tongued Loki, Odin's second son, uses his brother’s banishment to make a play for the throne. With the help of his friends, human and Asgardian, Thor must figure out how to get home and stop his brother from screwing up the kingdom.
Once again underscoring the benefits of physical training for an actor in favor of the other way around, Chris Hemsworth’s chiseled Thor is charming and interesting, portraying a depth to a character that seems at times too weighty for a script filled with furtive gags (a script which, thankfully, opts to drop Thor’s characteristic “thees and thous”). At the same time, the character exudes a paternal respect for ordinary people appropriately aligned with the god and man relationship established by the story, leading to fish-out-of-water moments that are genuinely funny. Kenneth Branagh coaxed decent performances from his supporting cast as well, Tom Hiddleston’s Loki shining particularly bright as a tormented, jealous brother, giving us a real character to add to the mythology. It is, in fact, as much an origin story for Loki as Thor.
Thor is full of impressive, original visuals: Clouds giving way to nebulae and the speckled blackness of space. Lighting frozen in ice. An actual Asgardian rainbow bridge. The pacing of the film is brisk and exciting, contrasting the drama in Asgard against ours evenly, effectively keeping the beauty of this fantastic world consistently impressive. The action is crafty and cool; Thor pulls off some devastating signature moves heretofore only seen in the realm of the Video Game.
Some of the more expository and pandering aspects of the film are apparently given less attention, however, as if Branagh were less interested in capturing them. The story would get along just fine without Thor’s ragtag, multicultural band of warrior buddies -- they appear to exist solely for merchandising possibilities and widening appeal. After the initial action setpiece, the film struggles at times to give them something to do (fortunately, however, this allows for a scene in which Ray Stevenson makes himself an enormous sandwich).
Natalie Portman’s role as the romantic interest is forced, given not nearly enough time to pay off as the plot device for which it is later supposed to function. Also, other than a half-hearted pop-science debate and fretting about her confiscated research, Portman’s character does little to make believable her role as an attractive young astrophysicist. And in a bizarre bit of metafilming, Stellan Skarsgard seems to have been cast in this film specifically because he is a Nordic actor, affording the opportunity to give him lines like, "These are stories I read as a child," seemingly under the assumption that the audience can identify his slight Swedish accent or will see him in the credits with that circle thing over the last ‘a’ in his name. It’s hard not to suspect this same thought was present in the casting of Portman, a well-publicized Harvard graduate.
The dialog from these moments seems often taken straight from pre-production conceptual notes and delivered as wryly as possible by the characters: "Primitive people would probably have worshipped them as Gods." “My ex -- good at being a doctor, bad at relationships!” While a certain amount of this kind of thing is unavoidable with a science fiction story, in this case the work was already done well enough, and lines like this serve only to hammer information into your head. In general, the conflict in Asgard is far more fun and interesting than anything that is happening with the people on the ground, whose struggle to figure out all the cool stuff we already know comes off as little more than a vehicle to drive the movie to a dramatic goodbye kiss.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Food 1.2
Food I like that's orange:
Andy Capp's Hot Fries Corn and Potato Snacks
Andy Capp's Cheese Fries Corn and Potato Snacks
Extra Sharp cheddar Cheese
Karee Curry
Cheezits Snack Crackers
Orange Jarritos
Carrot Juice
Flan
Pumpkin Spiced Pretzels
Vegetable Puree Soup from Icosium
Chik Patties
Fried Tofu
Peaches
Dried Apricots
Andy Capp's Hot Fries Corn and Potato Snacks
Andy Capp's Cheese Fries Corn and Potato Snacks
Extra Sharp cheddar Cheese
Karee Curry
Cheezits Snack Crackers
Orange Jarritos
Carrot Juice
Flan
Pumpkin Spiced Pretzels
Vegetable Puree Soup from Icosium
Chik Patties
Fried Tofu
Peaches
Dried Apricots
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Translation 1.4
Translation transcript of this conversation between a spoon, a sneeze and an asteroid:
Harrison: I have only seen ketchup-flavoured chips in Canada
Harrison: I have only seen ketchup-flavoured chips in Canada
Pringles, Herr's
Yum: People also sweep ice off of frozen lakes in Canada
Harrison: You are going to have to go after the entire Canadian chip industry.
Sure. They also do that in Wisconsin
Yum: Why do you always try to turn the conversation to Wisconsin?
What is it with you and Wisconsin?
Harrison: We don't have to do anything.
Yum: This guy is always trying to talk about Wisconsin.
What's his deal?
Cagin: He likes cheese.
Yum: That's it?
Cagin: That's what I heard.
Yum: I don't like Wisconsin.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Food 1.0
Food I hate:
Sauerkraut
Water Chestnuts
Ketchup
Raspberries
Crappy Cake Frosting
Country Crock
Gravy
Green Bean Casserole
All of this food ruins other food. Why won't it just go away?
Sauerkraut
Water Chestnuts
Ketchup
Raspberries
Crappy Cake Frosting
Country Crock
Gravy
Green Bean Casserole
All of this food ruins other food. Why won't it just go away?
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Translation 1.3
Translation transcript of this conversation between a Taco Bell Beefy Crunch Burrito and a Taco Bell Pacific Shrimp Taco:
Pacific Shrimp Taco: Fritos...?
Beefy Crunch Burrito: Heck yes! I am all that food can be.
PShT: Yeah, but Fritos?
BCB: Flaming Hot Fritos. They are much like crack.
BCB: In fact, someone is already going to jail over one of me
PShT: What?! Why?
BCB: Guy goes up to the drive through, orders 7 of me
PShT: Sounds like a genius
BCB: Flaming Hot Fritos can make you perform amazing feats. Again, much like crack.
PShT: That's true.PShT: Maybe the TacoBell ones are fake.
BCB: hm. Shrump.
Pacific Shrimp Taco: Fritos...?
Beefy Crunch Burrito: Heck yes! I am all that food can be.PShT: Yeah, but Fritos?BCB: In fact, someone is already going to jail over one of me
PShT: What?! Why?
BCB: Guy goes up to the drive through, orders 7 of me
PShT: Sounds like a genius
BCB: Flaming Hot Fritos can make you perform amazing feats. Again, much like crack.
PShT: That's true.
PShT: By the way.
PShT: Did you see that new shrimp thing they have? Best idea ever.
BCB: Ick. No. There aren't going to be any shrimps left in the ocean.
PShT: Did you see that new shrimp thing they have? Best idea ever.
BCB: Ick. No. There aren't going to be any shrimps left in the ocean.PShT: Maybe the TacoBell ones are fake.BCB: hm. Shrump.Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Abusing Online Chat Customer Support 1.8
eBay
Thank you for contacting eBay Live Help!
Pam has joined this session!
Agent Pam
Hello, thanks for waiting and welcome to eBay Live Help! My name is Pam. How may I help you?
Customer Hannicke
Hi Pam
Pam
Hi there!
Hannicke
I have a question
Pam
Sure... please go ahead!
Hannicke
So I was out to buy this map
Hannicke
This man he said it was a map to a golden egg but I can't find it
Hannicke
he can't do that to me
Hannicke
how can I tell if he swindled me?
Hannicke
other folks were making bids and I won this one
Pam
May I know if you had purchased the item?
Hannicke
Yes I bought it for real money
Hannicke
not that phony internet stuff
Hannicke
and guess what there wasn't not a thing in the middle of that parking lot
Hannicke
supposed to be this iron door, or whatever 'hot gate to safety' is supposed to mean
Hannicke
so what I want to know is how come I got swindled?
Hannicke
when all those other folks were bidding on it too
Pam
May I have the item number so that I can check it.
Hannicke
you ever been to hockey puck park?
Hannicke
it's down in the center of texarkana
Pam
No, I have not been there.
Hannicke
hang on a sec
Pam
Sure.
Hannicke
oh well that's where this safe room it was supposed to be at
Pam
Okay.
Hannicke
it was cause there's this fault line right down the middle of the country, this one that when it goes will take out half the midwest
Hannicke
ripped to bits you know
Hannicke
and I was supposed to shack up in this safe room underground with cans of food and a toilet and a tv on a battery and everything
Pam
May I have the item number so that I can check.
Hannicke
and this guy didn't want to tell no one about it so he made up a map that he was gonna sell to a few folks and whoever found it first could have it
Hannicke
locked the other folks out, you see
Hannicke
I knew for sure I had all the clues just right
Hannicke
I read all about that kind of stuff
Hannicke
golden eggs and black boxes and special plastic keys
Hannicke
but this one it was going to be a big iron door, like from that poem
Hannicke
a big door right in the ground in the middle of hockey puck park in the center of texarkana
Hannicke
I was sure that was it
Hannicke
and I know nobody's found it yet cause I'd a heard
Hannicke
don't you think
Hannicke
it would have showed up on ebay or something at least
Pam
I would like to check the item number. May I know if you have the item number so that I can check it.
Hannicke
oh right hang on a sec
Pam
Sure.
Hannicke
i think it is this one
Hannicke
(item number for the first thing that comes up on eBay)
Pam
Thanks for the information. Let me check that.
Pam
Just to confirm, may I know if the item is "Your Ticket is No Longer Valid (VHS)"
Hannicke
what?
Hannicke
Are you trying to sell something to me?
Hannicke
I'm sorry, but I do not want anything new.
Hannicke
I just want to know how to get this guy.
Hannicke
or make him tell me where the golden egg is
Hannicke
I don't want no VHS
Hannicke
what the heck?
Pam
Well, I just checked the item number and the title of the item is "Your Ticket is No Longer Valid (VHS)". I wanted to check if it is the right item.
Hannicke
Why would my ticket no longer be valid?
Hannicke
I just bought the thing.
Hannicke
that just doesn't make sense.
Pam
I was just verifying the item with you. I am not selling any item. Just was confirming if the item that you purchased has the above title.
Hannicke
can you make the ticket valid again for me, please?
Pam
In this situation you'll need to contact the seller by phone. I can provide you the steps to get the sellers phone number.
Hannicke
I knew it
Hannicke
once a ticket gets invalidated everything becomes such a big problem
Hannicke
and nobody wants to help you anymore
Pam
Please be assured that, we cannot make the item valid as it is listed by seller who can do that, I can help you get the sellers phone number.
Hannicke
oh that would be really great
Hannicke
I really want to talk to him
Hannicke
can you be on the line with me too?
Hannicke
wow, I want to give that guy a piece of my mind
Pam
To request your seller's contact information:
1) (Instructions)
2) (Instructions)
Hannicke
what?
Pam
3) (Instructions)
4) (Instructions)
5) (Instructions)
6) (Instructions)
Hannicke
oh
Hannicke
ok
Pam
You can follow the steps to get the sellers phone number.
Hannicke
perfect
Hannicke
sounds good
Pam
Is there anything else I can assist you with?
Hannicke
yes one last thing
Pam
Sure.
Hannicke
when did the ticket become no longer valid? I want to know so I can tell the guy that.
Pam
Well, there seems to be no problem with the item. You have to contact the seller so that he can help you with the ticket.
Hannicke
well then why the heck did you tell me it was no longer valid?
Hannicke
If it's still valid why can't you help me with it?
Pam
It is the title of the item that says "You're ticked is not valid"
Pam
Here is the link for the item (Link for a movie on VHS called "Your Ticket is No Longer Valid")
Hannicke
my virus protection wore off so my Aunt told me I shouldn't click on no links
Pam
Okay.
Hannicke
but if the title says it's not valid then that means it is not right?
Hannicke
should I go by something other than the title?
Pam
Yes you can search using a different title.
Hannicke
I just put in Golden Egg Map as a title and it gave me a link
Hannicke
can you please tell me what this link says?
Hannicke
(Link to a kids book called "Go Away Dog")
Pam
Okay
Pam
May I know if you are trying to purchase items from Half.com site?
Hannicke
no I don't want to buy nothing
Hannicke
man
Hannicke
you people are so persistent
Hannicke
I'm trying to escape from everything.
Pam
Could you elaborate a little more on this.
Hannicke
I'm almost out of money and I just want to hide in my safe place until after the earthquake comes and even this library will be gone probably but I don't care because I bet I can live in that thing for years and years
Hannicke
I don't want to buy no website, even if it's half priced or whatever
Hannicke
there isn't going to be no web or any other kind of site anywhere pretty soon
Pam
May I know if you want to buy or sell on eBay?
Hannicke
what?
Hannicke
I thought I already did do that for the map
Hannicke
the no good stinking not gonna help me at all when the time comes map
Hannicke
hello?
Pam
I have checked the item number.
Pam
I do not see that you have purchased the item.
Hannicke
Wait, am I actually talking to a person, or is this an automated system?
Pam
You are talking to a person.
Pam
The item number that you provided does not show that you have purchased the item.
Pam
You can click on "Buy it now" button on the item listing page and purchase the item.
Hannicke
Well that's strange because I have it right here in my hand.
Pam
May I have the email address that you used while registering on eBay?
Hannicke
no
Hannicke
that's private
Hannicke
I only give out my email address to my friends..
Hannicke
no offense because I think you are nice
Hannicke
but I don't think we are friends yet
Hannicke
and any way your system said you'd never ask for it, and don't share it
Pam
Well, to check your account, I'll need either the user id or email address. Do you recall the user id?
Hannicke
it should just be my name
Hannicke
which is Hannicke
Pam
I have checked the records and I do not find any account with the user id Hannicke!
Hannicke
Are you sure you got it right?
Hannicke
Han
Hannicke
like han solo
Hannicke
then Nick
Hannicke
like Nick Nolte
Hannicke
Then e
Hannicke
like ebay
Pam
Let me check that.
Pam
While I am pulling up your account, could you please verify your full name, address & telephone number that is registered to the account?
Hannicke
whoa whoa whoa
Hannicke
hang on there
Hannicke
I wouldn't give you my email address and now you want my home phone number?
Hannicke
the last thing I need is somebody coming into my house and stealing all the rest of my orange juice again
Hannicke
no way
Hannicke
when you find my account I'll tell you if you got it right
Pam
If you tell me the user id I can check the records and verify your account information. If you do not wish to give the account information then I won't be able to check if you have won the item or not. If you do not wish to provide the information then I can provide you the steps to contact the seller using email forwarding system so that you can get in touch with the seller and ask him for the item.
Hannicke
I'm pretty sure you did that already.
Hannicke
Thank you.
Pam
You're most welcome.
Pam
You can contact the seller using the steps give above.
Pam
Is there anything else I can assist you with?
Hannicke
I don't think so.
Hannicke
Thank you so much for giving me good help.
Pam
Thank you for contacting Live Help! To close this chat window, go ahead and click on the "Exit" button whenever you're ready.
Thank you for contacting eBay Live Help!
Pam has joined this session!
Agent Pam
Hello, thanks for waiting and welcome to eBay Live Help! My name is Pam. How may I help you?
Customer Hannicke
Hi Pam
Pam
Hi there!
Hannicke
I have a question
Pam
Sure... please go ahead!
Hannicke
So I was out to buy this map
Hannicke
This man he said it was a map to a golden egg but I can't find it
Hannicke
he can't do that to me
Hannicke
how can I tell if he swindled me?
Hannicke
other folks were making bids and I won this one
Pam
May I know if you had purchased the item?
Hannicke
Yes I bought it for real money
Hannicke
not that phony internet stuff
Hannicke
and guess what there wasn't not a thing in the middle of that parking lot
Hannicke
supposed to be this iron door, or whatever 'hot gate to safety' is supposed to mean
Hannicke
so what I want to know is how come I got swindled?
Hannicke
when all those other folks were bidding on it too
Pam
May I have the item number so that I can check it.
Hannicke
you ever been to hockey puck park?
Hannicke
it's down in the center of texarkana
Pam
No, I have not been there.
Hannicke
hang on a sec
Pam
Sure.
Hannicke
oh well that's where this safe room it was supposed to be at
Pam
Okay.
Hannicke
it was cause there's this fault line right down the middle of the country, this one that when it goes will take out half the midwest
Hannicke
ripped to bits you know
Hannicke
and I was supposed to shack up in this safe room underground with cans of food and a toilet and a tv on a battery and everything
Pam
May I have the item number so that I can check.
Hannicke
and this guy didn't want to tell no one about it so he made up a map that he was gonna sell to a few folks and whoever found it first could have it
Hannicke
locked the other folks out, you see
Hannicke
I knew for sure I had all the clues just right
Hannicke
I read all about that kind of stuff
Hannicke
golden eggs and black boxes and special plastic keys
Hannicke
but this one it was going to be a big iron door, like from that poem
Hannicke
a big door right in the ground in the middle of hockey puck park in the center of texarkana
Hannicke
I was sure that was it
Hannicke
and I know nobody's found it yet cause I'd a heard
Hannicke
don't you think
Hannicke
it would have showed up on ebay or something at least
Pam
I would like to check the item number. May I know if you have the item number so that I can check it.
Hannicke
oh right hang on a sec
Pam
Sure.
Hannicke
i think it is this one
Hannicke
(item number for the first thing that comes up on eBay)
Pam
Thanks for the information. Let me check that.
Pam
Just to confirm, may I know if the item is "Your Ticket is No Longer Valid (VHS)"
Hannicke
what?
Hannicke
Are you trying to sell something to me?
Hannicke
I'm sorry, but I do not want anything new.
Hannicke
I just want to know how to get this guy.
Hannicke
or make him tell me where the golden egg is
Hannicke
I don't want no VHS
Hannicke
what the heck?
Pam
Well, I just checked the item number and the title of the item is "Your Ticket is No Longer Valid (VHS)". I wanted to check if it is the right item.
Hannicke
Why would my ticket no longer be valid?
Hannicke
I just bought the thing.
Hannicke
that just doesn't make sense.
Pam
I was just verifying the item with you. I am not selling any item. Just was confirming if the item that you purchased has the above title.
Hannicke
can you make the ticket valid again for me, please?
Pam
In this situation you'll need to contact the seller by phone. I can provide you the steps to get the sellers phone number.
Hannicke
I knew it
Hannicke
once a ticket gets invalidated everything becomes such a big problem
Hannicke
and nobody wants to help you anymore
Pam
Please be assured that, we cannot make the item valid as it is listed by seller who can do that, I can help you get the sellers phone number.
Hannicke
oh that would be really great
Hannicke
I really want to talk to him
Hannicke
can you be on the line with me too?
Hannicke
wow, I want to give that guy a piece of my mind
Pam
To request your seller's contact information:
1) (Instructions)
2) (Instructions)
Hannicke
what?
Pam
3) (Instructions)
4) (Instructions)
5) (Instructions)
6) (Instructions)
Hannicke
oh
Hannicke
ok
Pam
You can follow the steps to get the sellers phone number.
Hannicke
perfect
Hannicke
sounds good
Pam
Is there anything else I can assist you with?
Hannicke
yes one last thing
Pam
Sure.
Hannicke
when did the ticket become no longer valid? I want to know so I can tell the guy that.
Pam
Well, there seems to be no problem with the item. You have to contact the seller so that he can help you with the ticket.
Hannicke
well then why the heck did you tell me it was no longer valid?
Hannicke
If it's still valid why can't you help me with it?
Pam
It is the title of the item that says "You're ticked is not valid"
Pam
Here is the link for the item (Link for a movie on VHS called "Your Ticket is No Longer Valid")
Hannicke
my virus protection wore off so my Aunt told me I shouldn't click on no links
Pam
Okay.
Hannicke
but if the title says it's not valid then that means it is not right?
Hannicke
should I go by something other than the title?
Pam
Yes you can search using a different title.
Hannicke
I just put in Golden Egg Map as a title and it gave me a link
Hannicke
can you please tell me what this link says?
Hannicke
(Link to a kids book called "Go Away Dog")
Pam
Okay
Pam
May I know if you are trying to purchase items from Half.com site?
Hannicke
no I don't want to buy nothing
Hannicke
man
Hannicke
you people are so persistent
Hannicke
I'm trying to escape from everything.
Pam
Could you elaborate a little more on this.
Hannicke
I'm almost out of money and I just want to hide in my safe place until after the earthquake comes and even this library will be gone probably but I don't care because I bet I can live in that thing for years and years
Hannicke
I don't want to buy no website, even if it's half priced or whatever
Hannicke
there isn't going to be no web or any other kind of site anywhere pretty soon
Pam
May I know if you want to buy or sell on eBay?
Hannicke
what?
Hannicke
I thought I already did do that for the map
Hannicke
the no good stinking not gonna help me at all when the time comes map
Hannicke
hello?
Pam
I have checked the item number.
Pam
I do not see that you have purchased the item.
Hannicke
Wait, am I actually talking to a person, or is this an automated system?
Pam
You are talking to a person.
Pam
The item number that you provided does not show that you have purchased the item.
Pam
You can click on "Buy it now" button on the item listing page and purchase the item.
Hannicke
Well that's strange because I have it right here in my hand.
Pam
May I have the email address that you used while registering on eBay?
Hannicke
no
Hannicke
that's private
Hannicke
I only give out my email address to my friends..
Hannicke
no offense because I think you are nice
Hannicke
but I don't think we are friends yet
Hannicke
and any way your system said you'd never ask for it, and don't share it
Pam
Well, to check your account, I'll need either the user id or email address. Do you recall the user id?
Hannicke
it should just be my name
Hannicke
which is Hannicke
Pam
I have checked the records and I do not find any account with the user id Hannicke!
Hannicke
Are you sure you got it right?
Hannicke
Han
Hannicke
like han solo
Hannicke
then Nick
Hannicke
like Nick Nolte
Hannicke
Then e
Hannicke
like ebay
Pam
Let me check that.
Pam
While I am pulling up your account, could you please verify your full name, address & telephone number that is registered to the account?
Hannicke
whoa whoa whoa
Hannicke
hang on there
Hannicke
I wouldn't give you my email address and now you want my home phone number?
Hannicke
the last thing I need is somebody coming into my house and stealing all the rest of my orange juice again
Hannicke
no way
Hannicke
when you find my account I'll tell you if you got it right
Pam
If you tell me the user id I can check the records and verify your account information. If you do not wish to give the account information then I won't be able to check if you have won the item or not. If you do not wish to provide the information then I can provide you the steps to contact the seller using email forwarding system so that you can get in touch with the seller and ask him for the item.
Hannicke
I'm pretty sure you did that already.
Hannicke
Thank you.
Pam
You're most welcome.
Pam
You can contact the seller using the steps give above.
Pam
Is there anything else I can assist you with?
Hannicke
I don't think so.
Hannicke
Thank you so much for giving me good help.
Pam
Thank you for contacting Live Help! To close this chat window, go ahead and click on the "Exit" button whenever you're ready.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Skeptic 1.3
I Got This Survey Phone Call
I got this "survey" phone call
It was supposedly a questionnaire about Rahm and Daley
And some of the new aldermanic candidates
And what kind of a job I think they've done
And what kind of a job I think they're likely to do
And who I'd be likely to vote for
In the runoff election
It seemed normal at first
But a few minutes in, the guy switched gears
He started in on "what people were saying"
About Molly Phelan
And John Cappelman,
Both contenders for Helen Schiller's spot
In the 46th Ward
He gave me a list of positive things for both of them:
"Now I'd like to tell you some of the positive things people have been saying."
And then he asked
Does this information influence your vote?
And I said maybe.
And then he said,
"Now I'd like to tell you some of the negative things people have been saying."
And he gave me some dirt on Molly Phelan
And he asked me if that would influence my vote
And I said maybe
And I waited to hear the dirt on Cappelman
But he didn't give me any dirt on Cappelman
He suddenly switched gears again
And tried to move on to a different line
About something else.
And I was like
Wait a minute
Give me the dirt on Cappelman now.
And he was like
This is just the next section of the survey.
And I was like
You told me negative things about Phelan,
I want to hear negative things about Cappelman.
And he was like
This is just the next section of the survey
And he tried to just start reading me the next question
Before I could try to stop him
So I told him to hang on
And put the phone down for ten minutes
While I looked up the company he was working for on the internet
And just let him sit.
Helen Schiller, you should know
Has been trying to preserve low-income housing in her ward for years
She's like,
Where are they going to go?
Upper-middle class whites who bought condos thinking to flip them are always mad at her
They are always picketing
They are like,
There is too much crime.
And she is like,
Yes there is crime.
Let's fix the problem with social programs.
Let's not just wipe them away so your property values can go up
And you aren't stuck in an unflippable condo.
But now that she's out
They want to get someone in
Who will get rid of all the section 8 housing
So they pitch in money
To hire people
To call people
And try to befuddle and manipulate them
With baloney "surveys"
When I picked up the phone again
The guy was like
Hello? Hello?
I told him I couldn't continue the survey
Because he was obviously hired to smear Phelan by the Cappelman people
In a really sneaky and insidious way
He just said ok
And hung up
I got this "survey" phone call
It was supposedly a questionnaire about Rahm and Daley
And some of the new aldermanic candidates
And what kind of a job I think they've done
And what kind of a job I think they're likely to do
And who I'd be likely to vote for
In the runoff election
It seemed normal at first
But a few minutes in, the guy switched gears
He started in on "what people were saying"
About Molly Phelan
And John Cappelman,
Both contenders for Helen Schiller's spot
In the 46th Ward
He gave me a list of positive things for both of them:
"Now I'd like to tell you some of the positive things people have been saying."
And then he asked
Does this information influence your vote?
And I said maybe.
And then he said,
"Now I'd like to tell you some of the negative things people have been saying."
And he gave me some dirt on Molly Phelan
And he asked me if that would influence my vote
And I said maybe
And I waited to hear the dirt on Cappelman
But he didn't give me any dirt on Cappelman
He suddenly switched gears again
And tried to move on to a different line
About something else.
And I was like
Wait a minute
Give me the dirt on Cappelman now.
And he was like
This is just the next section of the survey.
And I was like
You told me negative things about Phelan,
I want to hear negative things about Cappelman.
And he was like
This is just the next section of the survey
And he tried to just start reading me the next question
Before I could try to stop him
So I told him to hang on
And put the phone down for ten minutes
While I looked up the company he was working for on the internet
And just let him sit.
Helen Schiller, you should know
Has been trying to preserve low-income housing in her ward for years
She's like,
Where are they going to go?
Upper-middle class whites who bought condos thinking to flip them are always mad at her
They are always picketing
They are like,
There is too much crime.
And she is like,
Yes there is crime.
Let's fix the problem with social programs.
Let's not just wipe them away so your property values can go up
And you aren't stuck in an unflippable condo.
But now that she's out
They want to get someone in
Who will get rid of all the section 8 housing
So they pitch in money
To hire people
To call people
And try to befuddle and manipulate them
With baloney "surveys"
When I picked up the phone again
The guy was like
Hello? Hello?
I told him I couldn't continue the survey
Because he was obviously hired to smear Phelan by the Cappelman people
In a really sneaky and insidious way
He just said ok
And hung up
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Abusing Online Chat Customer Support 1.7
Another Random Autoparts Store
Nick: Hello! My name is Nick. How are you?
You: Hello, Nick.
You: I am quite well, thank you.
You: How are you?
Nick: I'm well thanks.
You: Very good.
You: I would like to inquire about an addition to my Aston
Nick: Ok.
You: I would suppose that you have many archaic bits to apply to my vehicle, and have some experience with the implementation of such to classic vehicles.
You: Is this correct?
Nick: We have a few and I know some about how they would work with older vehicles.
You: Quite right.
You: In this particular case I would be inquiring about a seat warmer. You see the heating in the car is cozy enough in the winters, but ever since I upholstered the seats in treated north sudanese camel skin, the seats just refuse to warm up. It plays hell with my hemorroidal problem, if you want to know.
You: I realize that the value of the Aston is determined in part by its strict adherence to the technology of the era, but I believe I would be willing to make a subtle exception - hidden, if you will, and mum's the word. I can count on you for your discretion, yes?
Nick: These are the only type of seat warmers I am seeing that we carry.
You: Oh, I'm afraid that won't do. Won't do at all. Doesn't match the camel leather, you see. Is there nothing that can be placed discreetly within the seat itself?
Nick: Nothing that I am seeing.
You: I see.
You: Yes, well
You: I wonder if you might be able to help me just the same with another bit.
Nick: I'll try.
You: Good, very good. And thank you very much for your time today. You've been a tremendous help thus far of course.
Nick: Thanks, what else did you need help with?
You: In any case. Recently, in the interest of safety, I have replaced all of the windows with a transparent aluminum bullet proofing. A space-age wind shield, I'm told. But I'm afraid the external mirrored finish has been causing me no end of trouble of late.
You: The sun, it seems, can be quite a nuisance when beamed into the eyes of fellow motorists.
You: Narrowly avoided quite a bang up, if you want to know. If it hadn't been for the perpendicular glammy tires (also a quiet upgrade -again, mum's the word!) shooting me suddenly into the shoulder of the highway I'm quite sure the solid carbonite-steel frame of the vehicle would have torn easily through that... Chevy, was it? Anyway, that sedan of some sort would have been shall we say not much more than shreds on the pavement.
Nick: I'm not sure what you would be looking for for your transparent aluminum bulletproofing as you call it.
You: Right, yes.
You: Sorry to be such a bother.
You: I'm interested in more of a non-reflective bullet-proofing.
You: I'd like to inquire as to the options for the Aston DB4 GT.
You: A GT, you see- only way to travel.
Nick: No no it's quite alright I assure you I am only interested in the safety of all motorists you see and it would give me no greater pleasure than assisting you in your quest for parts.
You: Wonderful!
You: Then you have it!
You: You'll notice that the windows are quite small
You: So the quantity is probably not very troublesome.
Nick: I'm sorry but we don't carry any sort of bullet proofing as it could cause a few more troubles than it would be worth if it were to fall into the wrong hands and no longer be used for just safety but assault. You know liability is an issue.
You: Don't you know I had never thought of that, but now that you say so it does seem a rather ghastly possibility, doesn't it?
You: Quite a getaway car, I should say.
Nick: Was there anything else you needed assistance with today my friend?
You: Perhaps just the one last thing, and then I'll let you attend to your other patrons.
Nick: How considerate of you, what was your last request?
You: Well I seem to be having some trouble with the servos on my plate rotator. In fact as it is parked now on the roof of my estate the thing is stuck between two different license plates.
You: A person wouldn't be able to tell as it stands whether my Aston is registered to Montana or New York.
Nick: Well now that just wouldn't do at all.
You: No I should say not.
Nick: I will see if we have anything that could help remedy that unfortunate situation.
You: Please, and thank you again for your continued assistance!
Nick: It would appear that nothing we carry would be suitable for the resolution of such specialized needs as yours.
You: Hm.
You: Yes, well.
You: Thank you just the same.
You: It's quite a vehicle as it is. I suppose that I'll just give that old beast a good kick once in awhile.
You: That'll keep her going.
Nick: You're welcome and do consider us if you have any other needs in the future.
You: Of course. Please forward my thanks of your considerate attention to the management.
You: Good day.
Nick: Hello! My name is Nick. How are you?
You: Hello, Nick.
You: I am quite well, thank you.
You: How are you?
Nick: I'm well thanks.
You: Very good.
You: I would like to inquire about an addition to my Aston
Nick: Ok.
You: I would suppose that you have many archaic bits to apply to my vehicle, and have some experience with the implementation of such to classic vehicles.
You: Is this correct?
Nick: We have a few and I know some about how they would work with older vehicles.
You: Quite right.
You: In this particular case I would be inquiring about a seat warmer. You see the heating in the car is cozy enough in the winters, but ever since I upholstered the seats in treated north sudanese camel skin, the seats just refuse to warm up. It plays hell with my hemorroidal problem, if you want to know.
You: I realize that the value of the Aston is determined in part by its strict adherence to the technology of the era, but I believe I would be willing to make a subtle exception - hidden, if you will, and mum's the word. I can count on you for your discretion, yes?
Nick: These are the only type of seat warmers I am seeing that we carry.
You: Oh, I'm afraid that won't do. Won't do at all. Doesn't match the camel leather, you see. Is there nothing that can be placed discreetly within the seat itself?
Nick: Nothing that I am seeing.
You: I see.
You: Yes, well
You: I wonder if you might be able to help me just the same with another bit.
Nick: I'll try.
You: Good, very good. And thank you very much for your time today. You've been a tremendous help thus far of course.
Nick: Thanks, what else did you need help with?
You: In any case. Recently, in the interest of safety, I have replaced all of the windows with a transparent aluminum bullet proofing. A space-age wind shield, I'm told. But I'm afraid the external mirrored finish has been causing me no end of trouble of late.
You: The sun, it seems, can be quite a nuisance when beamed into the eyes of fellow motorists.
You: Narrowly avoided quite a bang up, if you want to know. If it hadn't been for the perpendicular glammy tires (also a quiet upgrade -again, mum's the word!) shooting me suddenly into the shoulder of the highway I'm quite sure the solid carbonite-steel frame of the vehicle would have torn easily through that... Chevy, was it? Anyway, that sedan of some sort would have been shall we say not much more than shreds on the pavement.
Nick: I'm not sure what you would be looking for for your transparent aluminum bulletproofing as you call it.
You: Right, yes.
You: Sorry to be such a bother.
You: I'm interested in more of a non-reflective bullet-proofing.
You: I'd like to inquire as to the options for the Aston DB4 GT.
You: A GT, you see- only way to travel.
Nick: No no it's quite alright I assure you I am only interested in the safety of all motorists you see and it would give me no greater pleasure than assisting you in your quest for parts.
You: Wonderful!
You: Then you have it!
You: You'll notice that the windows are quite small
You: So the quantity is probably not very troublesome.
Nick: I'm sorry but we don't carry any sort of bullet proofing as it could cause a few more troubles than it would be worth if it were to fall into the wrong hands and no longer be used for just safety but assault. You know liability is an issue.
You: Don't you know I had never thought of that, but now that you say so it does seem a rather ghastly possibility, doesn't it?
You: Quite a getaway car, I should say.
Nick: Was there anything else you needed assistance with today my friend?
You: Perhaps just the one last thing, and then I'll let you attend to your other patrons.
Nick: How considerate of you, what was your last request?
You: Well I seem to be having some trouble with the servos on my plate rotator. In fact as it is parked now on the roof of my estate the thing is stuck between two different license plates.
You: A person wouldn't be able to tell as it stands whether my Aston is registered to Montana or New York.
Nick: Well now that just wouldn't do at all.
You: No I should say not.
Nick: I will see if we have anything that could help remedy that unfortunate situation.
You: Please, and thank you again for your continued assistance!
Nick: It would appear that nothing we carry would be suitable for the resolution of such specialized needs as yours.
You: Hm.
You: Yes, well.
You: Thank you just the same.
You: It's quite a vehicle as it is. I suppose that I'll just give that old beast a good kick once in awhile.
You: That'll keep her going.
Nick: You're welcome and do consider us if you have any other needs in the future.
You: Of course. Please forward my thanks of your considerate attention to the management.
You: Good day.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
All Things Meow 1.0
Mister Chillynose Was Mad At Me This Morning
Mister Chillynose was mad at me this morning
Because I locked him in the bathroom
Because he keeps eating Mouse's food.
He waits
Until he knows I am engrossed in something
I hear the tinkling of kibble
In the bowl
I see him eating as fast as he can
To get as much as possible
Before I catch him
He eats looking up
Giving the impression that he is not even enjoying it
Because he has to watch out
So he can run away
With the uneaten food in his mouth
And find a place that's hard for me to get to
So he can drop it on the floor
From his mouth
And eat it properly.
Even as I drag him away
He is still chewing
Mister Chillynose was mad at me this morning
Because I locked him in the bathroom
Because he keeps eating Mouse's food.
He waits
Until he knows I am engrossed in something
I hear the tinkling of kibble
In the bowl
I see him eating as fast as he can
To get as much as possible
Before I catch him
He eats looking up
Giving the impression that he is not even enjoying it
Because he has to watch out
So he can run away
With the uneaten food in his mouth
And find a place that's hard for me to get to
So he can drop it on the floor
From his mouth
And eat it properly.
Even as I drag him away
He is still chewing
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