Tedium's Large Metal Tent Pole

The day is mercifully ended- it was kind of a long one, but that's what they pay us for. And boy did I get messed with today! I was in an older-model troop transport truck, one without many of the bells and whistles that the newer models have. One of these turned out to be a working dashboard fan... But at any rate, this truck was old and soon to go the way of all scrap. Installed on most of these trucks is a way to alert the driver, as the cab is separate from the bed of the truck. The newer models, the ones I'm familiar with, have an intercom system- simply pick up the mic in the truck bed (which has fold-down seats, obviously- ride comfortably and a little safer, too), and what you say will be transmitted to a speaker in the cab. However, this older truck had a switch- press the switch, and an alarm goes off in the cab, likewise to alert the driver of anything he should be aware of. I didn't know these existed, and figured something was wrong with the transmission on the truck. Actually, something was wrong with the transmission, but that would also mean one of the idiot lights on the driver's display would be coming on. Of course, the guys who decided to mess with the switch knew perfectly well what the switch did, and knew that neither of us in the cab knew what it did. So the whole way back the thing was intermittently going off. We got to our dropoff point, I hopped out and checked under the truck, looking for perhaps a damaged part, a leak, or anything to indicate why the warning alarm was going off in the truck. The front transfer case was leaking, or failing that something above it, I wasn't sure which. There was some fluid all over the place, though- this explained the bucking and slow shifting the transmission was doing the entire time. Give me a stick shift any day! This automatic Alison transmission nonsense is for the birds. So of course, one of the guys in the back of the truck, brilliantly and convincingly feigning puzzlement, asked me what the noise was in the truck- they heard the alarm back there. I said I didn't know, I thought it was the transmission. My friend looked puzzled, saying he wasn't sure, could be anything. Brilliant, I have to admit, at making me look like a fool. When I finally figured it out, I smiled the whole way back off post. The second trip out, the exact same thing happened- of course, it didn't occur to me that the only time I was having problems was when there were people in the back of the truck... I thought it was because the truck had sat idling for a while as the troops boarded and got their supplies together. On the second trip back, the same thing. A friend of mine stepped out of the truck, grinning ear to ear. "Did you hear that alarm? What was that?" At this point I knew something was up. Finally, an explanation was given, that it was the switch back there in the truck bed! And did I look like a complete fool, crawling around under the truck looking for a nonexistent problem! I have to admit, as practical jokes go, that was one for the history books. So guys, you got me on that one! It's important to be able to laugh at yourself, and I have to admit, that was funny as hell.

So in other news, I stumbled across an interesting little video interview- one of the oddest people I've heard from, Marilyn Manson. He was discussing a correspondence with Anton LaVey, renowned Satanist and author of the Satanic Bible. Satanism is an interesting, though perhaps flawed philosophy. You are basically your own god, for better or worse. There is nothing higher than yourself. This, I find, puts an awful lot of pressure on you- if you are god, and there is no higher good than yourself, doesn't that mean you constantly have to work for that good? Because wouldn't everyone else, either directly or under a facade of religion or self-righteousness, be doing the exact same thing? They would regard themselves as god- ergo, whoever comes out on top in this power struggle is- what? More god than the other guy? More effective? Hard to say. But at any rate- Manson mentioned various ideas put forth by various philosophers- how interesting, I thought! And I have to admit, he can defend a philosophical position and seems to be more well-read than your average Fundamentalist. I found myself in agreement, that there are many valid points to many philosophies, not the least of which is Christianity. I've always regarded LaVey as rather a flake- I don't believe his philosophy is as thoroughly thought through (sorry about the alliteration there) as some others. It seems that when carried to its logical conclusion, it would seem that it doesn't quite pan out. But are there some ideas that can be derived from it? Certainly. The problem I find here is a Judeo-Christian one; that there's only one right philosophy; only one source of truth. This kind of exclusivity is, of course, limited to the individual's own philosophy, religion, creed or what have you. At best, a misguided defense against a strange and frightening universe, at worst LaVeyan philosophy in extremis and an excuse to commit atrocities, one should never abandon searching for the truth. We all get a piece of the puzzle, it seems- and ultimately we see islands becoming connected in a greater pattern.

Well, enough keyboard philosophizing for now- it's almost the weekend, and it's almost the day we celebrate independence, at least in this country. Independence means the freedom to pursue who you are, and what you value in life- but let's not forget, with this we extend this same right to others. We are not all the same- let's embrace the fact that we're all freaks under the great big circus tent of life. And this existence is so much richer because of that.

In the Utility Muffin Kitchen

Time to put your blade to work.

-the Cheshire Cat, Alice: The Madness Returns

Today was yet another day in the never-ending legacy of being in Oklahoma. It was also a change of brigade command, so we ended up getting out not really much earlier than we would have otherwise. Much time was spent hunting for a replacement rearview mirror, which turned out not to have been ordered. We did, however, have a very nice mounting bracket fresh out of the box for said mirror. The issue with this was that the mirror itself, not the bracket, was the piece of this assemblage that actually was broken. Well, such is life in the ins and outs of the motor pool.

There are a team of very handsome Arabian horses that are kept on post, as well. What they're used for, I'm not sure, apart from parade and ceremonial uses. Arabians, thanks to my charming and highly knowledgeable lady friend, are one of probably three breeds of horses I can identify by sight. At any rate, these horses seem to be birds of a feather, generally being of a pretty calm and relaxed disposition, and of a similar deep brown color with black legs, manes and tails. Like all members of the horse persuasion, they are quite casual about the necessities a biological existence bestows on them, though after today, one wonders at the level of intelligence and comic sense of these animals. Passing before the reviewing stand, well, with a knowledge of horse hyigene habits, you can guess the rest. A personal welcome to the new commander? One can but speculate. This fact was not lost on us enlisted men and women, and no doubt will make this an induction ceremony to be remembered. Nonetheless, welcome Colonel! Inspire where we need inspiration, lead where we need leadership, and don't fix it if it ain't broke, as they say.

In other news, I'm hoping to gear up for yet another adventurous journey back to the Charter Oak state, or whatever the hell it is- Connecticut, at any rate. It always amazes me to go there, see what's new and what's still the same. I'm hoping to get some travelling in, too, under ideal circumstances. I've long wanted to see Salem, as I'm a history geek of the purest stripe, and a few odd little tangents of my own personal ancestry are tied into the history of this place. Why now, you may be wondering? Well, I've come to a Decision. Not a decision, as in, boy, the spinach salad looks really good in the mess hall today, finish it off with a glass of chocolate milk and I'm a happy man indeed, but rather a Decision. Now this Decision is probably going to sound insane, but here goes- stop trying to get my life in order. You'd think this would be a Bad Decision, but bear with me here. Often I'm trying to get everything perfectly in line, and the results are that I spend far too much time organizing, and not enough time doing. I recently did my birth chart- astrologically, that is. This shows the location of the planets in the 12 houses of the zodiac at the time when you were born. Your sun sign, that is, where the sun was when you were born, is generally what people mean when they say your zodiac sign. However, this is not the exclusive determinant in the influence of the zodiac in your life. There are 12 houses, and I don't remember how many planets. We're dealing with initial conditions here, which by no means determine your fate entire, but rather can show an influence. My own chart shows my sun sign as Libra, which makes me associated with Air. This does seem to make sense- I read, think and write a great deal, and am kind of an intellectual, hopefully in the best context. However, it also leads to overthinking and overanalyzing situations. Couple this with a strong Scorpio influence in most of my other areas, and you've got an interesting mix- first, a sharp and analytical mind, a fiercely independent streak, and the intelligence to generally cause lots of mischeif. The Scorpio influence tends at worst towards obsession and vengefulness, at best towards determination and dedication, and deep loyalty to family and friends. This came as a surprise to me- not being loyal to loved ones, and a deep sense of family, but that Scorpio is a Water sign, and generally means doing a great deal of digging and uncovering, always wanting to find things out, discover hidden causes and relationships between things. All in all, I'd say the makings of a pretty decent scientist, or failing that, a pretty decent mystic- someone always looking behind the curtains, poking in the dirt or following up on some random hunch, or following some random road solely because he doesn't know where it goes. The problem is that the world tends not to wait on a dreamer- but without dreamers, the world would be a lot less interesting. There's a time for everything, I guess. Except, of course, for drinking the Tenafly Viper- best to avoid that. And while you're at it, steer clear of Cisco, too. Tastes like strawberry-flavored industrial waste, and will do nothing good for you, believe me. Well, stay well, and enjoy this upcoming 4th of July weekend, to my American readers, and to everyone else, well, enjoy the weekend too!

The Black Death

It was a long time ago- this is generally held to be a good thing for those of us in the 21st Century. I picked up a book, kind of a fictional narrative, but historically accurate, on the spread of the plague through England. It actually turned out to be really interesting! The plague began in or around Turkey, then traveled first westwards towards the Black Sea, then southwards along its western coast towards Constantinople, then from there spread both east and west along the coast of the Mediterranean sea, ultimately reaching first Italy and then inland towards France. From there, it was a short jump to England itself. The fact that this would have represented a common trade route is painfully obvious, and makes sense. The book, however, focuses more on the actual climate of a village called Walsham, and actually provides an interesting insight into the day-to-day life in this time period. People were generally peasants, though their stature as such varied greatly. In the midst of these peasants were the lords they worked for, which meant the manor courts held a good deal of sway over their daily affairs. People would go to the courts to file complaints about their neighbors, or to hear charges brought against them, sometimes by the lords they served. Dovetailing with the manors was the church- a bit more networked than the manors, but travel remained difficult during these times, and communication relied on travel. So people sometimes made pilgrimages to the sites where shrines to some saint or another were built, mainly as a form of penance. And this is what I found really interesting. People, it seems, could not earn salvation while on earth- they were, as a general rule, too hopelessly jacked up. Hence purgatory- people after death would go hang out in purgatory for a while, so they could finish up the penance they began in their earthly life. Prayers of the living, as well as the granting of indulgences by the clergy, sometimes in the form of payment, sometimes in the form of gifts to the church, also helped, lessening their time in purgatory. I found this an interesting philosophy, clearly developed from the situation people found themselves in. People were very much subject to the twists of fate they encountered. A bad harvest might very well mean you and your family found themselves on the brink of starvation, or a harsh winter meant a very real possibility of freezing to death. The church found themselves in a place of respect and prominence- remember that books were not as widespread as they are today. Mass printing had yet to be invented, and creating or reproducing a book was a long, laborious process, and on top of that was restricted to people who could read and write. Often this was considered an extravagance for the common people- however, monks were the preservers of knowledge, and would reproduce books written by hand. These books, obviously, became worth their weight in gold.

Local priests were the authority in the village, as they alone understood and could perform the rites such as Masses and holy observances. Thus, they naturally became figures of great power and authority within their community. No doubt many of them genuinely took their roles seriously, though medieval history is full of accounts of those who did not. Power, it would seem, sometimes corrupts. So why did the church, and subsequently its representatives, gain so much influence? Because medieval people saw these turns of fate- a bad harvest here, a harsh winter there- as beyond their control, and the direct result of God being pissed. So the church provides a way to make God happy- thus, when God is happy, the winters are mild, no one starves to death, and things are generally a little easier. The promise of an afterlife where none of these hardships affect you anymore no doubt sweetened the deal quite a bit. Man must be sinful, the reasoning probably went- else why would life on earth be so hard? The promise of a rest from labor appealed to people, no doubt.

At first, the plague hits 'heathen' lands, those where Christianity was either absent or scarce. Clearly, thought the people, perhaps encouraged by the church, we're in with God, because this horrible thing hasn't come over here. Now keep in mind people were not sheep then any more than they are now- they would ask questions of their priests- what the heck is going on over there? Should we be worried? The priests no doubt were kind of at a loss, and offered the best explanation they could give. Well, probably someone did something to piss off God, so now God is dropping the hammer. As the plague creeps nearer and nearer to England, ultimately reaching Walsham itself, people wonder what they went and did now. Or perhaps God's just being kind of a jerk, so regardless, we don't have a choice but to try to appease him. Pilgrimages, prayers and the like increase greatly- clearly, God wants a show of devotion from his faithful people. Questions continue to abound, and the priests are harder put for an explanation- nonetheless, they do the best they can. Life more or less goes on, panic ensues, lots of people die, then as the plague subsides, pick up the pieces and move on. This is an interesting study in history not because of the fact that there was an epidemic- that even happens in these modern times. Rather, it reveals the philosophy of people at the time. Lacking knowledge and learning themselves, they put their faith in those who had such learning. It was a unique combination of circumstances that led up to the situation the church found themselves in. Couple this with the philosophy spread by Paul, who was so certain that Christianity was the one true religion, and all others but lies spawned by some Devil, who was intent on dooming people to Hell, and you've got the makings of an authoritarian structure. Now all this was to change during the Renaissance, when literacy as well as books became more widespread, leading people to draw their own conclusions. With this, people began to share information on a much larger scale also, resulting in more industry, more exchange of ideas, and with this, a higher standard of living. The result was more time for contemplative pursuits and more time for speculation on this life and what might lie beyond it. At the time, people had only the word of their clerical authorities to go on, and had to rely on this for their understanding of the teachings of their faith. Nonetheless, I believe at least at the local level, priests were not all corrupt. No doubt many of them sincerely believed in what they were doing, as is the case today. They tried to offer the best explanations they could from the information available to them, trying to make sense out of a seemingly senseless world, and helping the people under their spiritual care to do the same thing.

At any rate, the name of the book is The Black Death- A Personal History, written by John Hatcher. It's based on historical information about the time period, though the actual characters are by and large fictionalized. The story is convincing and very well written, however, though somewhat difficult to classify as actual history or historical fiction. Worth a look, at any rate, especially for history geeks like me.

The Twittering Machine

It's week three, and the battle rages on. Still battling whatever this nasty little virus is, and more or less winning. At least, that's what I tell myself. Actually, I think the worst is pretty much past, I'm actually eating more often than not, and only occasionally getting a bout of fever and fatigue. More than anything else, this is a major pain in the ass. I have a fleeting (but medically unproven) suspicion that the fact that I'm putting in insane hours at work, and feeling more than a little stressed may be compromising the whole healing process. Stress, however is fleeting. There's probably some second part to that, something along the lines of but glory is forever, but well, glory hasn't been on my mind much lately. It's been pretty much a daily grind, and to a large extent sympathizing with Charlie battery (a battery is very similar to a company, to the point that in all honesty I don't know what the difference is). These guys are gearing up for an infantry deployment, so are getting the military equivalent of cram school, honing their skills. Now I know more than a few of these folks, and can say they are some pretty tough hombres already. But hey, never hurts to refine your skills. In some ways, (apart from the galloping fever and all) I envy them. That's a strange thing to say, as I think deep down no one truly envies a soldier. When you strip it all away, we're trained to do two things- our jobs, and to kill people, and to do both with ruthless efficiency. However, understand that there are very specific laws surrounding who you can kill and who you can't. There are laws of war that probably have been in place since time immemorial- you don't kill someone who is not a combatant. You kill those people who represent a threat to you. Some housewife with a donkey by the side of the road who yells expletives that would make a soldier (...) blush is, for example, not a combatant. War is such a confusing and complicated business.

So why do I envy these guys, off to risk their lives? Glory again? No, that's not it. Rarely does anyone think of glory until they have it pointed out to them. Rather, that they're out doing their jobs, and doing that job to the best of their abilities. Not sitting around the motor pool answering to a group of people who give new meaning to the term 'petty officer'. Yes, technically a Naval term, but you guys hopefully get the joke. Then on the other hand, some wise person said something to the effect of, not everyone may have the opportunity to do great things. But everyone has the opportunity to imbue all that they do with greatness.

But enough armchair philosophizing. Tomorrow is Wednesday, another long grinding day, probably going to involve another mission, in this case ammo. Always an exciting time, this. It's pretty much what it sounds like, go get ammunition (which, incidentally, weighs a TON), bring it to the range where people with firearms are waiting, issue out said ammo, then the people with firearms lock, load, and shoot shit, and learn to shoot shit with greater and greater accuracy. I'm hoping to get a little of that action myself, I'm a bit rusty- been a while since I've been out there ventilating the Green Ivans. A common layout for a rifle range is to have mechanized targets, in the shape of a human torso and head. The torsos are simple green plastic, and are ranged at varying intervals, from 50 to 300 meters. Why they are called Ivan, I don't know, though there is considerable speculation, most of it centering around the Cold War. (Think about it, it'll come to you). One exception has been, as long as I've been in the Army, the 50-meter target. It's a little differently shaped, but is called Freddie, or alternately, Fast Freddie. The targets rise and fall according to a fixed pattern, and stay up for fixed intervals. The 50-meter, being the largest and closest, stays up for the least amount of time. Hence the name.

In other world news, looks like I managed to simultaneously avoid an accident and get the Fort Sill police to do something useful for a change- the situation is as follows- I'm out driving a big old five-ton truck, armored, but actually pretty comfortable inside. At any rate, we have what amounts to a T-intersection. I'm coming along the cross bar of the T, with a yellow light. Now at the junction of this intersection is a big light-up sign saying, "Oncoming Traffic Does Not Stop". The oncoming traffic being me, in this case. Some fool in a Mustang is all set to make a left- well, be patient, Mr. Mustang, there's no traffic behind me, and I'll scoot my big armored butt through this intersection and get you on your way. Of course, the Mustang decides that the 10-foot gap is more than enough for him to get through. Obviously, it's not. The truck, being equipped with air brakes, though powerful, does not exactly stop on a dime. It does make an impressive skid, though, and when coupled with the air horn, provides an adequate audial indication of how pissed I was. Apparently such a cacophony (not a word I get to use all the time) managed to attract the attention of a nearby cop, who went after the guy. Now, you'd think this is a regular old traffic violation, but no. This involves a military vehicle- a vehicle that, mercifully, was not carrying a cargo bed full of troops, but could have been. There's also a clause in the traffic laws of military posts that makes it an offense carrying a pretty hefty fine to impede the movements of a military vehicle and/or convoy. So luckily, no one got hurt, the Mustang remained in one piece instead of crushed like a beer can, which is pretty much what could have happened. So when you're out driving, drive sensibly! This seems to be, in many cases, a forgotten art form. Well, be safe, and don't drink the Tenafly Viper! And stay cool and hydrated too, keep an eye to the heat!

Music of the Spheres

Hopefully this won't give anyone too huge a headache- I always liked this particular design, as it comes from a wonderful little set of equations called the Mandelbrot set. I like the colors, too. But the colors have nothing to do with the actual equations- the thing in the middle that looks kind of like a little rotund man does. It's a non-linear equation, which, as you can see, produces infinitely repeating patterns. Non-linear mathematics has been a large step forwards in understanding the nature of the universe around us. The reason I mention this here (apart from the fact that I wrote it) is that I read an article about 'the hum'- it's a kind of noise that more and more people are hearing, but can't seem to quite put a source or name to. Interesting, I thought. I saw the article originally on Facebook, and followed the link. Turns out it's a somewhat mechanical noise, generally. Some people attribute its location to the sky, others to the earth, still others can't seem to pin it down at all. So what is it? Well, no one really knows. Yet it seems to be there. The Facebook link had a string of comments behind it, as most Facebook links will. These comments were surprisingly uniform, being variations on "I thought I was the only one who noticed that!" I also noticed this- I never really thought very much of it, though. In retrospect, I figured if something moves, it vibrates, and if it vibrates, it moves. Everything in the universe vibrates, at some frequency or another. So presumably it all makes noise- either we can't hear it, or it's within audible range and we generally just tune it out. But the odd thing is, more and more people are hearing and noticing it. Curious, I thought. Perhaps it is, as some people think, a sign of an expanding and opening consciousness among humanity. I like that explanation, and it seems to make as much sense as any other. I never really paid it that much mind, assuming of course we're talking about the same thing, just kind of took it as a matter of course- the sun rises, rain falls down, and there is a sound that is difficult to describe, but inevitably makes you think of moving parts, or a complex machine. And apparently I'm not the only person who noticed that. So does that make the people who can hear it unique or special? Well, probably not. Everyone is unique in their own way, with all manner of different talents. Some people can't read auras- I have a tough time doing it, too.
But at any rate. The next step in human evolution will probably not involve having Sarah Palin for President. Or any of the other winners that are being trotted out so far. I'm predicting it's going to be quite a bit like The Onion described it- "... a cross between the Wild West and 1984". Well, good luck fellow freedom fighters, and don't drink the Tenafly Viper!

Thirteen Minutes To Midnight

And may the Lord have mercy on the people in England

For the terrible food these people must eat

-Frank Zappa, 200 Motels

Well, I'm glad to report the fever broke early this morning, and apart from lack of appetite and a headache, I'm pretty much back to normal. I suspect a good deal of the headache is due to caffeine withdrawal- caffeine, though not severely so, is a physically addictive substance. Granted, the withdrawal symptoms are not as bad as say, nicotine or some narcotics, but still- I hate headaches, having been 'blessed' with them since childhood. However, life goes on. I read somewhere something which surprised me- in certain doses, caffeine is hallucinogenic! It is a stimulant, so this makes some degree of sense. Actually, I drink a lot of coffee, and have never experienced this particular effect. I know too much caffeine will kill you, causing cardiac arrest. This is why energy drinks can sometimes be dangerous, as they have on average about five times as much caffeine as coffee. I don't care much for them myself- Red Bull gives me a screaming headache, just as, oddly enough, does anything with artificial cherry flavor in it. Maybe it's the red dye? I don't know, I prefer my cherries off of the stem, at any rate. Or in a pie. Or in Cherry Garcia ice cream.

On an unrelated note, I stumbled across a pretty good short film, again on the fearnet website. I've always been a fan of short films, and there are a handful of good ones on this site. I'd like to see it expanded, I think there's a definite audience for them. I'll have to send the fearnet guys an email, let them know I'm plugging their site on here, ha ha. But anyway. This particular short is called Polydeus, and has all the great elements of one of those creepy-but-believable urban legends. It centers around an old arcade game from the go-go '80's called Polydeus. It was a very limited distribution, and was on the market for only a manner of weeks. The game screen was said to cause hallucinations, nightmares and uncontrolled psychotic reactions in players. Shortly after it was released, it was pulled from arcades, and all records of its production and distribution were destroyed. As far as anyone knows, it never existed.

So here we have all the elements of an urban legend- first, that it's next to impossible to verify, as the records and proof of such a thing were all destroyed. Second, that no one knows exactly where and when these things occurred, so it's possible that it could have happened. This story would start something like this- "A friend of mine knew a guy who played this video game...", as again, there's really no way to verify this. However, keep in mind absence of evidence is not, as they say, evidence of absence. And there are a ton of creepy factors involved to make sure that this story grabs the interest of the hearer, and in this way, perhaps the audience wants it to be true. Perhaps this is an element of all great horror stories- not that it did happen- but that it could happen.

So at any rate, the week ahead looks pretty uneventful, just another handful of summer days wasting away in the Oklahoma sun. Such is life, at least for the time being. Both the journey and the destination are important- where you're going, and how you get there.

Test For Echo

Today has been kind of a lost day, mainly because I slept through most of it. That's what happens when you're running on three hours of sleep. The story is as follows- I've been running a fever all week, but haven't had a chance to get to sick call and get checked out. Typical me, I thought if I ignore it, eventually it'll go away. No such luck, at least not yet. So I got a ride down to the emergency room, and got checked out. Congratulations, they said. You have a viral infection. Take two of these and get lost. So I did. Why, you may be asking, did I not go to sick call? Well, I'll be honest. There's always been kind of a negative connotation, perhaps only in my own mind, that sick call is just for people who want to get out of work. Me personally, I could care less. But that's only one of the reasons. The other is I simply didn't have time. Sure, I could complain about that to higher-ups, but what's the point? I was out on supply missions Monday through Wednesday, meaning I had to be up before dawn and be rolling out before daybreak. The missions would generally keep me out long enough to miss the hours sick call is assigned to. Thursday I was at PT, feeling like hot buttered roadkill, but alive and kicking nonetheless. This PT session ran long- again, no sick call for me. So Thursday night rolls around- I'm sitting on the couch, kind of tipped over against one arm, wrapped up like an Eskimo, except for the buckets of sweat pouring off of me part. Now this is strange, as despite sweating, I was cold as a New England winter. My roommate walks into the room, takes one look at me, and says, "Get in the car. We're going to the hospital". So knowing it was useless (and probably not in my best interest) to protest, I went. The diagnosis took a little while, but they said take Friday, stay home, drink lots of liquids and take some Tylenol to slow the fever. Which brings us up to the current point. I think it probably was a good idea, just the whole lack of time was a real pain in the tail. But I'm on the mend now, and actually got to wondering, could some of it be caused by stress, and/or lack of sleep? I had been trying to squeeze in a nap in the afternoon, before dinner and before my nightly call to Tabatha. But the week has been a stressful one, much as I hate to admit defeat in that. Well, knowing is a good deal of the battle, I think. Now I have two days to sleep late, take things slowly, and generally let my body get back in balance.

The title of this post is a line from a song by Rush, which some of you may be familiar with. The same roommate has been on kind of a Rush kick lately, not that I mind, as I'm a big fan too. I find there's that good balance between technical proficiency and imagination that marks a great band. Geddy Lee actually is a talented player, for a skinny gangly guy. Hey, it worked for Steve Perry (of Journey, you unhip people you). But I find that he has the ability to strike that balance between proficiency and showing off. In this same category I'd go with my dad's observation and put B.B. King, as well as Eric Johnson. Both could cram notes into a song until it creaks- but they don't. Nor do they play 'minimalist'- a frequently misused term in the modern music world. My own thoughts are this- when you can do something and choose not to, that's minimalist. When you don't have the skill to do something and don't, that's a limitation. Recognizing limitations means you can go beyond them- after all, who picks up an instrument and can play it perfectly the first time? Or who can sing perfectly the first time? Like any skill, these things take time, dedication and study to master. Not all limitations are bad, in fact they can tell us how to improve. But when you let your ego get in the way, that limitation will all too often go unrecognized.

Back in my home state of Connecticut, it looks like the big news is the opening of what I'm pretty sure is a second Sonic, in Manchester. For some incredible reason, people lined up for miles! Sonic makes good food, though perhaps not the most healthy choice, but still. I wish I had that much time, to wait in line for an hour or so for a burger. People were complaining that the location will create a major traffic snarl, and they're probably right. Well, I doubt the traffic snafus there could hold a candle to the epic forehead-slapping mind-boggling incompetence of the Fort Sill traffic control division. They have a knack, however, for taking a bad situation and making it a hundred times worse. Now that's talent, though given, talent in the wrong direction. I also heard that McDonald's was protesting the Sonic opening? I'm guessing that was more along the lines of a formal complaint than say, picketing the place, but then again, stranger things have happened. I wonder, on what grounds? Because the opening of a new McDonald's doesn't garner that kind of crowd? Are there people in paper hats carrying signs saying 'Stop Making Better Food Than Us'? I'd put Sonic pretty high on the list of good burger joints in our country, second only to Wayne's Drive In, though Wayne's is privately owned, and not a franchise. The reason I say this is because the food is good, and generally of the comfort-food variety. Certainly not something you'd want every night, but not bad. Also, you can avoid the gargantuan sizes that Burger King made themselves famous for. Of course, if you're really that hungry, go for it- Burger King has a decent menu. I've always wondered- can you get a Texas Whopper up north? Or is that limited to Texas, and us border towns?

But actually, I have the odd habit of considering Hartford my point of origin- simply because I was brought onto this blue and green ball of mirth in that venerable city. I was born during a snowstorm (or so I'm told) in St. Francis Hospital. This was later to become something of an interesting coincidence, as I always considered Francis to be one of the historical figures I always admired. Learning of his life and times interested me- not that I saw any great parallel between his own life and mine, but rather because his story seems such a strange one. Born in Italy to a merchant, Francis went through a similar kind of catharsis as Buddha did, and as time went on, I found to my surprise that their stories paralleled each other. Francis rejected the material world, and became what would be called an ascetic- this is a widespread practice, to varying degrees, throughout the world. Buddha himself did this too, first leaving his home after witnessing a sick person, a dead person, and an old person. He realized that the physical world is subject to change, and as a result, a source of suffering. So did Francis, except in this saint's case the suffering of others ultimately prompted him to come to regard his body, and his material existence, as inferior to a life of spirit, a life devoted to God. Buddha too followed a similar path, but ultimately realized a way that accepts rather than rejects our physical life, later to be known as the Middle Path. I would surmise that Francis himself would have come to a similar understanding, as these two had such similar paths- I'd like to think that these two men have stumbled onto the same thing, and perhaps would ultimately have reached the same end- this actually gives me a dose of hope for the future, as if this is the case, wouldn't it seem to be that ultimately, there is one universality of human experience? It's pretty commonly known that we humans tend to filter what we experience through the medium of perception and culture, but ultimately there are more common factors than there are cultural differences.

So have a good weekend, don't drink the Tenafly Viper- but if you're around Manchester, do try the Chicago Dog. Good stuff.

In The Poison Grove

I was gone for fourteen days;

I could've been gone for more

Held up in the intensive care ward,

lying on the floor

I was gone for all those days, but I was not all alone

I made friends with a lot of people

In the danger zone

See my lonely life unfold

I see it every day

See my only mind explode

Since I've gone away

-Alice Cooper, The Ballad of Dwight Frye

That's always been one of the saddest songs I think I've ever heard by Alice Cooper, also one of my favorites. It looks like another week down, out here in the danger zone, and I finally got the junk cars towed away. (Hey, I figured, it's the South, might as well fit in...) Though I suppose rednecks are no longer limited geographically. One of the downsides of globalization?
At any rate, no need to worry about them any more, a guy I had met a couple times before came down to tow them for me, and use them for parts. It makes me wonder, is there just one tow truck driver in Lawton? The guy must be richer than Croesus, if so! But at any rate, glad that's out of the way.

Apart from that, it's pretty much the same old story here. I realized something I had read a long time ago, and filed away back somewhere in the recesses of memory. It deals with the concept of transforming negative emotions, thoughts, and general non-tangibles into a positive source of energy. I've never exactly understood the mechanism myself, only that it can be done when you realize the state of affairs in a certain way. That probably sounds weird, but I can't think of another way to describe it. Once you see something, you can't un-see it. But first, of course, you have to see it. There's an old story about peacocks- they have such huge and colorful feathers because of the poisons that they eat. Way back when it was thought that peacocks went out of their way to eat poisons, as this was the source of the colors in their feathers. I don't actually know what peacocks eat, I would guess insects, perhaps small rodents, judging from the way they look and move, and what environments you find them in.

But back to the story. It's not so much of transforming the feeling of an intense desire to rip someone's limbs off into a feeling of wanting to give them a hug, but rather trying to see objectively. You can come to a point where negativity can be used as a motivating force to change the negative situation- see the things that gave rise to it, and work to change them. It's not usually that simple, but does focus on changing your mindset.When I find myself feeling down, I try to come to the point of stepping back and looking clearly at the situation- what can change, and how it can be changed. Not exactly that difficult to write- actually doing it is a little more so.

This past Friday we had a brief on the repeal of the 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' law, bill, or whatever the proper political -ism is for it. It's now okay to serve as an openly gay person in the military. Once again I'm confronted with the central question asked by members of the armed forces- who the hell cares? It doesn't matter if you're gay, straight or bi, you can die from a bullet just as easily as anyone else, and you can fight just as hard. This is mostly a policy change, and doesn't really affect anything that actually goes on in the military. There isn't really any "What if I'm not comfortable with..." type of questions- the answer is, you spent at least 14 weeks sharing living quarters with a whole bunch of people of the same sex. What are you tripping about, exactly? And if you're that insecure, go get medicated. There are and always have been openly gay people in the Army- no one really bats an eyelid at it, and you set aside your personal convictions in this sense, along with who you like and don't like, and be a professional. After the day is done, you can hang out with whoever you choose.

I say this is largely a paper change because the codecil in the military regulations that can chapter a person out for homosexuality is now null and void. Rarely if ever was it actually used, anyway. All other regulations pretty much stay the same. Now here's the really funny thing-remember DOMA? The Defense of Marriage Act is, in my opinion, one of the reasons churches should not be tax-exempt. If you wish to influence public policy and governmental dictates, that makes you what, class? That's right- a political entity. Now for our next leap of logic- under the laws of the Federal government, political entities are taxable! Churches and religious institutions are not taxable because they are not political entities. They can govern themselves, of course- but separating church and state is one of the keys to a democratic system. I could drag out the tired old adage about how it's in the Constitution that Congress cannot make laws of a religious nature, and so on. But you get the point. I agree with the fact that gay/lesbian/whatever people are now granted equal rights under the law- but the funny thing is, the Federal government continues to recognize marriage as a social-legal union between people of the opposite sex. This is the core of DOMA, and crosses the line between religious views and political ones. This sounds to me an awful lot like a religious definition of marriage- Webster's Dictionary defines marriage as either same sex or opposite sex, though does draw a distinction between the two. I would put more faith in Webster than I would in most churches. This is relevant because the Federal definition of marriage is that of DOMA- that a marriage is between people of opposite sex. There are benefits extended to spouses of service members- that is, people who are married, such as a combat death benefit and support systems for widows or widowers. So under this policy, these would be denied a same-sex spouse on the grounds that they are not technically married. However, things like life insurance can be assigned to a same-sex partner. Any legal person can be a life insurance beneficiary- my son and daughter are listed as my beneficiaries, which would mean custodial measures would be in place until they're legal adults. At any rate, this is more than likely the next step, is changing the definition of marriage, or failing that, rewriting DOD policy to allow same- sex couples to be on equal footing. Again, this is all way above the heads of us grunts. But of course we had to be made aware of it. The funny thing is, like I said, that nothing really changes except policy. You would not, for example, start calling your commanding officer 'sweetie', any more than you would a female officer. There are standards of conduct for us when we're in uniform- granted, these are often relaxed, and I'm guilty of that myself. My section sergeant is always "Boss", and I don't insist on having soldiers of lesser rank stand at parade rest to talk to me- again, technically, this is the courtesy extended to people of higher rank, and whenever a soldier meets someone who outranks them, these courtesies are done until the higher-ranking person tells them it's not necessary, which is almost all the time. But at any rate, looks like I'm getting off on a tangent. I'd like to see a clearer separation of church and state in the future- I really try not to impose my own views on people, and appreciate those people who do the same. This doesn't require walking on eggshells, just keeping things to myself unless someone asks me- then I answer truthfully and respectfully- I agree with this, I don't agree with that, And so on. And we all get along, for the most part. Where this is going, I don't know- but hopefully towards a society where people can be who they are. Everyone has a right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness- that means to me that everyone should live without fear or annoyance. That doesn't mean your prurient interests (define that as you will) will never be offended- it means that you can think what you want, do what you want, and say what you want, as long as you don't hurt anyone else- because everyone else has the same rights as you do. Seems pretty simple, at least on the surface.

Well, off to the gym to, as Tabatha likes to say, pick things up and put them down. A good way to kill a Sunday afternoon, at any rate. Stay well, everyone, and don't drink the Tenafly Viper.