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Why do we in the modern world tend to believe in one God vs. Many? Imagine, if you will, that Gods represent the psychological embodiment of human desire. We are creatures of craving and when we cannot have what we want we look towards something that embodies what we want. In centuries past we split those desires amongst a pantheon, giving a name to each embodiment of desire. This was a practical maneuver, allowing individuals to focus on their desires in a limited manner. This allowed for differentiation and created a culture that allowed individuality to focus.

Modern times are built on the back of the Crusades and on the death of polytheistic beliefs. Where there were many Gods there remains only one, the ‘last man standing’ in an ocean of twinkling stars. I posit that our creativity and individuality is, in a sense, muted by monotheism.

Of course, we are not only muted by the lock-step locked down belief systems that dominate the modern world, but by access to a ton of media that only serves to further our natural confirmation bias. We find the news that confirms what we think we know, just like we know the one God is absolutely for us and about us and always on our side.

Read the signs, I bet they’ll tell you I am right on this one.

Tough time getting this to post today. The site has been up and down and possibly even hacked. Yeah, I get the irony of a guy who writes about post-modern hacker culture getting hacked himself. Perhaps it is a version of street cred… or bot cred as the culprit is more likely automated than directed by human hand. We are moving into a time period where hacking is going to be on the uptick. Moreover, glitches are going to become more and more responsible for accidents on a global scale. The more complicated a system is, the more likely that system is to encounter a glitch that is not easily detected and less easily repaired.

I think about traffic systems and automated passenger conveyances, even linked elevators and escalators. I wonder if there are a few angry hackers who want to take a shot at the new president–gangam style. More importantly, I wonder if the electronic systems regulating solar power distribution have the security not to get hacked. A lot of money floating around for solar, but if you cannot protect yourself from the hackers then the battle is lost. They can siphon your energy or your payback plan, leaving you feeling vulnerable.

The future is coming. I’m excited and a little bit intimidated.

Some Thoughts:

1. I’ve been dreaming about my childhood. It isn’t always my childhood. A few times  week the childhood doesn’t belong to me, to my memories of this life. It leaves me to wonder how much of that past life stuff has validity and what possible way science can bring reason to bear on understanding such a possibility.
2. 67 degrees indoors in AZ. Merry Xmas.

 

I have become enamored with the term diaspora. It appears in essence, if not structure, in most of my writing as of late. In my fantasy I speak of races–not unlike the Elven and Dwarven races of Tolkien lore–who have lost their ancestral holding and are scattered about seeking some friendly shore; some place that permits their culture to flourish without fear of losing itself to that alien fabric. I suppose this comes wholesale with living in Phoenix, AZ where, at the time of my own committal,  the majority of people I encountered were also not from here.

I find that more Californians, New Yorkers, Iowans, and those from foreign lands such as Canada or Mexico live in AZ than people born here. This is the truth of all retirement driven state economies (See: Florida) but it does reflect that sense of diaspora and a sense of a melting pot culture struggling to define itself by a primary flavor.

As a dominant culture or cultural group fights to emerge in this new American diaspora we are left to hunt through the fog of cultural identity, leaning on the definitions crafted for us by others as even now we fail to identify ourselves.

That is what I’ve been –not– writing about. I believe 10 minutes is a good chunk of time to put some of this on paper and allow the logjam in my mind to clear sufficiently to let the good writing through.

Some Thoughts:

1. Rest In Peace, Joe McKnight. The former NY Jet was killed in a road rage incident. His killer, Ronald Gasser, was arrested 10 years ago for a road rage incident in the same spot where he beat a driver senseless for a perceived slight. Gasser was charged and sentenced in that past issue. For murdering McKnight he was let walk free. Make of it what you will.

I ought to title this one Life Without Sports. Seriously, when we were involved in constant sports there was not a Saturday that was not teeming with games and running around the state trying to deliver or collect various kids. Watching a friend at the front end of that drama (his one kid is playing three sports right now) reminds me that I need to temper that sports love with a bit of common sense.

In lieu of sports we are watching the last of Full Metal Alchemist as part of our second straight ‘sleepover’. We gathered a ton of mattresses on the living room floor and just binged. Last night’s binge was on Minecraft and tonight its more watching than playing.

As the battery for the laptop ticks down to zero I’m watching the tiniest Talislegger pout and mope and drag his feet around looking for something significantly exciting to keep him conscious. He doesn’t want to crash and I don’t want him to either. I’m enjoying these moments of just being a dad and soaking up the joy and crazy of childhood. Truth be told, I had maybe a dozen of really great nights like this with friends. Without brothers and sisters I didn’t get to enjoy things in this fashion. I had my words and my toys and those were great. This is different. This is family.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. The Shadow Children series might be closer to real life than originally suspected.
2. Paolo Bacigalupi will be at ASU’s Desert Nights, Rising Stars conference. Dope.

I came to the Gilmore Girls late in life, consuming it through Netflix with unexpected glee. When Netflix recognized that I was one of a million plus viewers it decided to reward us by bringing a close to the storyline. The original cast and writers returned to grace us with a four-part mini series meant to finally close the door on what has come to be ranked among my favorite shows of all time. It was entirely worth the wait and the watch, triggering feelings that surprised me.

From the opening scene the show drenches you in a sense of familiarity and family. Rory is coming home and you get to feel like this is a real home and not a set made for TV. The people seem to genuinely care for each other and the main characters belong to that place. That sense of belonging me has long eluded me in my own life, so it warmed my heart to see it carried out so well in the drama.

That feeling of home and family and the things we do in our tiny worlds pervaded the four episodes, mingling with the growth and change of each of the Gilmores and their loved ones. Though everything changes, they are still a part of Stars Hollow and still, inherently, the people we came to love through their ups and downs and seven seasons of drama.

The Giants are doing their thing! I’m feeling pretty good about the chances of the Giants v. Cowboys game mattering a whole lot. This part of the season these games seem to all matter. Here are a few that definitely do matter:

Cowboys over Vikings
Zimmer is likely to have surgery and miss the game, leaving an already suspect staff to run the show. Given the way those Cowboys are playing, there is little hope for the Vikes. I still hope they win, because the Giants could really use it.

LA over NE
Trap game! I see this ending well for Gurley.

KC over ATL
BAL over MIA
SF over CHI
CIN over PHI
DEN over JAX
NO over DET
BUF over OAK
NY over PIT
GB over HOU
GB is primed to make a run and I am primed to run out of time because it took me quite a bit to get going on this one.

When I was married, one of the things my ex and I went back and forth about was the amount of work I brought home. To make matters worse, I wasn’t bringing home work I was getting a monthly paycheck for or at times getting paid at all for. I brought home writing work. I allocated time that could’ve been spent with her and the kids on stories that may or may never see the light of publication. Clearly I was not spending my time in a fashion that made a lot of sense to her.

She isn’t a writer. If I’m being totally honest I held that lack of understanding against her. As opposed to encouraging the work she tolerated it the way my mother once tolerated the work and it made me feel like I might be using my time in the wrong way. I felt more and more that way the less and less work I published.

In retrospect I forgive her and recognize that I expected far too much from her. People who don’t write or draw or hold that solitary creative endeavor rarely understand those who do. Once you find a person who does it triggers a deeper appreciation for that person and the craft itself, because you are joined in a rare collective of creators.

I am slowly falling back into the writer’s life. I am absolving myself of much of the guilt that accompanied writing and thus reaching back towards a place where I write for more than just immediate profit.

With all the hype and media coverage about the Trump presidency I’ve retreated from the political world, circling back into the sports world. It isn’t the best use of my time and energy, but it allows me to engage in a situation where there remains some modicum of hope.

Sports allow individuals a measurable and finite opportunity to express difference at the level of engagements and stakes as they so choose. The more invested we become in the sports, the less control we have over our level of engagement. The key difference between this and, say, politics is that sports are essentially low stakes. Even in Europe where soccer stadium deaths happen yearly, the level of the stakes remain comparatively low. See, if Manchester City or the NY Giants lose a game I’ll feel bad for a minute. If a team like the Jets continuously squanders opportunities they’ll get a shot at a top drat pick next year and likely free up a lot of capital to grab some other pieces to the puzzle.

If Trump shits the bed then we are all in trouble for longer than the four years he is going to be in office. Sadly, the formula to mess up Trump’s game was just broadcast recently by the Daily Show. It isn’t a terribly secret formula: Bomb a Trump hotel abroad and he’s gonna retaliate.

So that is what high stakes look like…

I had an opportunity to see Post Modern Jukebox for the first time, also marking the first time I’d been to a concert in some time. It served to immediately remind me of what I enjoy—shows, creativity, and people doing what makes them feel good. Going to the show made me feel good and remembering what it felt like to be backstage and in the presence of performers made me feel spectacular. It was at that point that I realized I am a vampire.

 

I’ve come to that realization a few times now, each time allowing ‘the awakening’ to fall back asleep. I am a vampire. I feed on the pleasure of others. I enjoy watching people perform and play and live life. I enjoy to do these things on my own as well, but I equally (perhaps even more) enjoy when others do it and I can taste the joy in their eyes and feel from a far the richness of their hearts.

 

Well, that was decidedly creepy. It wasn’t altogether untrue. There are parts of me that do feel vampiric. As a writer I drink the stories I see other people living in life and spit them back upon the page. I draw my inspiration and strength and life from these stories, so I suppose it makes me a bit vampiric.

 

Perhaps we all are.

Some Thoughts:

1. Giants win again! 8-3 means they have a shot to overtake the Cowboys… Lets roll, gentlemen.
2. Speaking of rolling… Tide. Just the Tide. Nobody else needs to appear in the Final 4.

I’ve been fighting to get organized. Gilmore’s slam on Marie Kondo notwithstanding, I could use a bit of tidying up. I took an unusual step today, decluttering my memory banks of some Minecraft stuff, recording it in a book made specifically for that purpose. It helped in multiple ways, the foremost being the transformation of the ‘craft from boredom killing game to creativity engine. By starting to record this world I am building I also started to build the story of the world. I once again merged game with storytelling.

Sounds like a load of crap doesn’t it?

The truth of it is I started writing in this very fashion. I would write the stories of the worlds I explored through roleplay. I told the tales of D&D and Shadowrun. I still tell the tales of Shadowrun and Minecraft is only slightly removed from D&D. In a sense I have been doing this sort of thing forever and finding great pleasure, energy, and creativity in all of it.

The key here is imagination. So much of what people do today–myself especially–serves to kill or fails to incite imagination. Here I have found a way to do so. I feel like the hardest part of being a writer is holding unto that writhing snake of imagination.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. Remember this? “Give me your tired, your poor,
   Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
   The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
   Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
   I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”