RKNet Blog... Thing

You are hiding behind a stone wall being shot at by heavily armed cultist. You have had two weeks of training to deal with situations like this. But you’re only just starting to remember this. You know you should feel angry that people are shooting at you. But you consider that they would shoot at anyone trying to sneak into their heavily armed and very secretive religious compound. Instead you think about the figurative bastards that put you in this situation. They woke you up at four in the morning approximately thirteen hours ago. Bundled you into a car, then an airplane and whisked you six hundred miles from your home. They told you that that two week blackout you had was their fault. That two week blackout two years ago. A blackout that cost you a relationship with a person you deeply loved and very nearly alienated you from your immediate family. They said that you’d been taken to a secret government facility and been in their words ‘The Clockwork Orange’ treatment. Except instead of making you dislike violence they taught you to know how to do very unpleasant things to your fellow human beings. When you didn’t believe this as they quite reasonably expected they produced photographic evidence, timestamped and digitally signed. These memories slowly came back to you. You attributed this to the background music playing in the airplane’s cabin.

The current problem that you are to be injected into was explained to as a local disturbance which could rapidly turn into the European version of the Waco Ranch massacre. They explain to you that this is where you come in. You, they explain are to sneak into the compound and assassinate the leader of the cult as well as disrupt as much of the chain of command. Logically you try to explain to them that Solid Snake does this in the video games and he tends to die an awful lot in the attempt. They do not get the reference. They also suck their gums a lot which you take as a sign of ‘you’re not the first one we’ve sent in.’

The sneaking into the farm ran by crazy cult members did go better than expected. You made it past the official police line and through a field past the body of who you assume was ‘the first one sent in.’ As you reach the edge of the main farm complex however it all goes wrong.

Not the first one to be sent in seems to explain the problem well as you hide behind a dry wall. Your mouth is dry and your hands have almost stopped trembling. Their bullets have stopped firing. Cautiously you peer around the corner and see that three of the larger cultists are running towards you while brandishing very scary looking shotguns. You gulp. Aim the silenced pistol you were given at the closest cultist. Then you fire. It isn’t a perfect shot. It goes through his leg and he tumbles to the floor. He is screaming but the other two have upped the pace. You take aim again and fire. The next one drops without a sound in a mist of red. The third cultist stops. He raises his shotgun. You take cover. He discharges the weapon into the wall and the pellets bounce off the wall harmlessly. You feel you are getting the hang of this. Looking around the corner you feel slightly disappointed that he is running away from you.

You move forwards from this wall to the next. This is progress you think. Then they start firing a machine gun at you and you dive for the closest thing you see that looks like cover. The training you remember consisted of firing ranges, simulated close quarters combat exercises and training drills. Very little of the training (although you cannot be quite certain right now as your memory is still fragmented) involved being shot at and the immediate action to be taken when you inevitably come into the situation. You go on instinct here. Duck and cover, then hope that the machine gun breaks or runs out of bullets. 

The person manning the machine gun appears to be enjoying himself. Every few seconds a burst of fire removes fragments of the dry stone wall. The bullets are close and you hear some of them whistle through the air. The gunner however has a steady rhythm to his firing. You remember that you have a mirror on one of the cargo pockets. You take it out and use it to peer round the edge of the wall. There is only him. His burst finishes. You jump over the wall and shoot him in the head. The way into the main building is clear now. You kick the flimsy wooden door from it’s hinges. You hear a thumping noise.

You are cold and cannot move. Your head aches with a dull throbbing sensation. Your face hurts. Opening your eyes you see that you are in a cellar. The thin light of sunset comes in through an opening in the wall near the ceiling. You work out why you are cold and cannot move. Directly ahead of you  is a man.  He is naked and strapped to a gurney. His right arm has a horrific gunshot wound and his groans occasionally break his possibly drug induced sleep.

Four sky clad people walk into the cellar. One of them has a demonic mask and a evil knife. Another, a drum made from wood with a tight white skin with tattoo ink blue Celtic markings on it. The other two are women who start dancing and chanting as soon as they enter the room. The drummer starts to hit his drum and the masked man you watch move to stand in front of the injured man blocking him from your view.

“For your intrusion onto hallowed ground we punish you,” the masked man shouts.
“For your intrusion onto hallowed ground we punish you,” the others repeat.
You watch the masked man drag the knife across the injured mans chest. Blood runs to the ground.
“For your violent ways we injured you,” the masked man shouts.
“So we shall injure you again!” The two dancers say.
The masked man pushes the knife into the injured mans gunshot wound.
He screams!
“We the children of the gods say you must die,” all of the cultists say.
The injured man screams one last time.
You see the masked man turn to you. 

You are sweating heavily now. That evil knife is covered in gore and the blank look of the masked man you feel hides a sadistic smile. The drumming man carries on his vile rhythm for the dancers to follow. You see a small ball shaped object role through the sunlight opening. It bounces on the stone floor of the cellar.
“For your intrusion,” the masked man starts to say. You close your eyes in terror.

You hear a deafening noise followed by chaotic screams and gunshot. You close your eyes even more. The ringing in your ears stops and you open your eyes. You try to speak and a desperate whimper is all you can summon. You see eight people in battle dress and black full face gas masks. One of them approaches you and slings his weapon over his shoulder. You watch him take his gas mask off.
“It will be alright. You’ve done your duty. You’ve exceeded our expectations. Let us help you,” he says.

This story was originally entered into the SFX Pulp Idol competition. It didn’t win (aw), didn’t get shortlisted and it didn’t even get an honerable mention. No matter I’m well aware of it’s deficencies and it was a tracer bullet. Oh well it’s a success if someone enjoys it.

Will.

Next week, as dictated by The Ad Contrarian, is SHUT THE FUCK UP WEEK. Or as he elects to (more diplomatically) call it “Worldwide No Blogging Week“. It’s intended to span August 25th through September 1st.

I for one, will be observing this. It just so happens that I’m taking this time off work as well, which means all the back end work I’ve intended to do on the site will become my top priority. Posting? Not so much. I can’t say for sure whether some of the other authors will elect to observe this textual moment of silence type event, but you won’t be hearing from me.

If you’re really upset at the prospect of a whole week’s silence, obviously you haven’t been here much, but in any case, you can keep an eye on my soup. I’ll be saving stuff to my soup all week for sure. This will provide you with many amusing images, video links, and brief textual anecdotes. YAY.If you have a soup or sign up for one, feel free to friend me. I’ll totally friend back, because the more the merrier.

Realistically, a week without blogging would be pretty refreshing, especially if everybody actually committed. Could you imagine? I can’t, actually. But the sentiment rings true.

So help me god if you kids don't stop fighting I'll turn this internet around right now.

Srsly though. Standby over the course of next week for serious site changes for RKNet. If you’d like to avoid visual crazytown, but still read stuff from the other authors, sign up for the Feed using the appropriate link at the top (or side if you’d like it in another language). KTHXBAI!

Let me start by saying that this grouping is little more than a list of some of my favorite books. It in no way purports to be comprehensive in any sense, nor are the books presented in any particular order.

Many are distinctly Modern (I’m looking at you, Dave Eggers, Nicole Krauss and Lauren Slater). Others employ a favorite story-telling technique, Magical Realism, that I personally, can’t get enough of (thanks Toni Morrison, Salman Rushdie and Gabriel Garcia Marquez). Still others are included because they’re beautifully told, utterly unique or just plain cool.

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (Dave Eggers)
Eggers’ first novel is part memoir, part fiction and all modern. This book is bigger than itself. Eggers’ wildly experimental prose, self-conscious narrative and sheer humanity make this one of my all time favorites. The story details his family’s struggle to adjust to the death of both their father and mother in the span of just 32 days- yet much of the book is sheer fantasy and Eggers takes creative liberties in calling this story a “memoir.” (See “Lying: Lauren Slater, below) I would highly recommend this book to aspiring writers.

100 Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
A legend in and of itself, this book traces the lineage of a family in a small, supposedly South American town “on the edge of nowhere.” Employing some stunning examples of Magical Realism, a literary technique that has one character literally being drawn into the sky never to return, Marquez’ style is resonant of a fairy-tale so that the impossible is readily, even eagerly accepted. The opening line alone speaks volumes about the way this book hooks you: “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.”

Song of Solomon (Toni Morrison)
Morrison needs little introduction on my part, and I had a difficult time choosing just one of her novels to highlight. However, Song of Solomon, to me, is perhaps her most experimental yet down-to-earth story to date. The story is a part coming-of-age, part alamentation of the lasting effects of slavery and part an examination of love, in all its strange and often distorted manifestations. Oh, and you’ll find some gorgeous instances of magical realism thrown in there for good measure as well.

Midnight’s Children (Salman Rushdie)
Hilarious, beautifully written, and impeccably structured, Rushdie constantly teases and tests his readers. The story, which traces a young man, Saleem, and his family as he grows up during India’s independence movement has been called a metaphor for the growth, and coming of age, of the country. Rushdie is truly a unique voice and Midnight’s Children is unabashedly accessible.

The History of Love (Nicole Krauss) 2005
A beautifully understated story with distinctly modernist leanings, The History of Love braids together the lives of three characters inextricably, yet distantly tied to each other: Leo, an old man who fears he is disappearing; Alma, a young girl on a quest to find happiness for her withdrawn mother; and Litvinoff, a mysterious and brooding Chilean man from another time. The History of Love truly stuns with some of it’s passages, one in particular stays with me:

“The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people’s hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely…”

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera)
Perhaps a bit pretentious, this work of modern/post-modern fiction examines the insignificance of each and every one of us through a couple and their various infidelities. Uplifting, no? While it’s fair to say that not much actually *happens* in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, so much is said. Kundera believes this “lightness” (our insignificance) to be somewhat wrenching. I myself find it a bit liberating. Whether or not you enjoy the story, Kundera’s structure and prose make this piece worth reading, and the points it raises might send you on a philosophical quest of your own.

The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (Nancy Farmer)
I’m biased because this was a childhood favorite. Set in Zimbabwe in the year 2194, this story follows three royal youths through the various underbellies, subcultures and cults they encounter after they’ve been kidnapped. Three detectives with genetic deformities (super sensitive ears; excessively perceptive eyes and the third with a sense of empathy that often causes him to break down in tears) are assigned to find the children. Yes, it’s science fiction. Yes, it’s a children’s book. Yes, it’s worth reading. Take it to the beach!

The Darling (Russell Banks)
Russell Banks is a beautiful storyteller with the unique ability to put himself in the shoes, and heart, of almost anyone. The Darling is the story of Dawn/Hannah, a middle-aged woman whose rebellious past led her into the depths of Liberia where she experienced all manner of horror and beauty. A striking story told with the fresh rawness of a new wound, passages from the Darling will haunt you for years after you put it down.

Ulysses (James Joyce)
Read this book just to say you did it. Ulysses is an epic novel, yet spans just one day in the life of its protagonist, Leopold Bloom. Some say the book is pure genius. Others denigrate it as over-hyped fluff. Personally, I’d need to read it about five more times to make a fair assessment… But one thing is certain: Joyce went places with Ulysses (which was banned in the United States for obscenity in 1933) that few writers had gone before, and few have gone since. From his topical choices to his stylistic ones, Joyce has a voice and character all his own.

Lying: A Metaphorical Memoir (Lauren Slater)
This book will change the way you think of the term “memoir.” Slater challenges the concepts of truth, its contexts and even its very existence at the core of the human experience. Beautifully written and constructed with a modern twist, Lying has been called “metaphorical memoir,” (though she begs throughout to be understood as non-fiction.) This book continues to frustrate and enchant me, yet Slater’s beautiful prose and (here it is again) modernist tendencies keep me coming back for second, third and fourth readings.

Honorable Mention:
The Angel on the Roof (a collection of short stories by Russell Banks), How We are Hungry (a collection of short stories by Dave Eggers), What is the What (a creative non-fiction account of the life of one of Sudan’s Lost Boys, as told to and expanded upon by none other than Dave Eggers)

Note: If my liberal use of terms like “modernism” and “magical realism” annoyed or offended you, please see my upcoming post detailing these literary techniques and my interpretation of them. Until then, click the links, fool! Modernism - Magical Realism

It all started with a simple link to BoingBoing, which I don’t ordinarily read, in the ectomo chat (EFNet, #ectomo or through a java module on the site).

The article was a simple video, with the headline “Man electrocutes pickle to demonstrate power of Christianity“.

Within the video, a friendly older gentleman wishes to share a neat experiment and a metaphor with the audience. The experiment involves taking a regular pickle of fairly decent size, skewering either end with metal forks, hanging it from a safely grounded sling, and hooking up electrical clips to the forks. When the wire with the clips is plugged into a source of electricity (in this case a wall socket, as evidenced by the standard US plug on one end), we can see that electricity is conducted through the pickle to create a complete circuit. With the lights off, you can watch one end of the pickle glow and spark like a fourth of july sparkler as seen through frosted glass.

It is at this point which Grandpa John - that’s this older fellow’s stage name I’d assume - wishes to really make his metaphor. His goal was to demonstrate that by introducing the power of Christ in the life of any average person, that person will glow (figuratively) with the power and light of God.

Needless to say, the BoingBoing commenters had a field day with this somewhat dubious analogy.

My favorite comment: “Pickle! Pickle! burning bright,
Between the forks of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?” ~ chriss1519

Later on…

Gia-tan HA. take that expensive, wasteful floor washing kits and mops! Entire kitchen floor cleaned with one clorox wipe and my foot!
Gia-tan toes: best for getting into corners since the jesus pickle invented them

Then Mathiasx mentioned a song called Handlebars by a band called Flobots (which is absolutely amazing, by the by), which in turn reminded me of a song called Jesus Grow a Handlebar Moustache for Me by a band called Pataphysics. Bringing things somewhat full circle. Quite a reach for synchronicity, but without the original Jesus Pickle video from earlier, the odds of my remembering the Pataphysics’ song to make mention of it would have been significantly lessened.

Pataphysics - Jesus Grow a Handlebar Moustache for Me

It’s been a very Twitter-heavy weekend, as previous posts will demonstrate. I had a brief spat with some woman named Amanda Chapel because I had issues with the idea of arguing against the merits of internet culture on the internet. Particularly on such a limited platform such as Twitter. I really need to think and do some research before I discuss that whole situation at length. And I do want to discuss that at length. However, in the interest of being fair I intend to read more of Strumpette and see if I can get a proper bead on the philosophy at work here. At that time, I’ll share the archive of the Twitter conversation, and get into depth on what the internet means to me and what I feel it means to our culture as a whole. More on that later though.

One of the other Twitter discoveries I made this weekend was FlypeClub. I’d been followed (and followed them in return) a little while back, but it seemed to only produce an increased percentage of self-promotional fluff scrolling through my gTalk twitter window. This weekend however I got at least a minor peek behind the curtain and figured out that some other followers I’d picked up were authors and conspirators of this mysterious FlypeClub. For the record, I still have no idea what the deal is with it, but now I’m intrigued instead of annoyed by their updates.

A little basic reading, a little paying attention showed me who all is working on the FlypeClub project. (And I KNOW I’m breaking the first and only rule here, but I can’t help it. There is a reason why, you’ll see.) Not so mysterious after all on one hand, but more mysterious on the other. Who exactly are these guys? What was the draw to make something like this? Why the seemingly aggressive promotion when it appears they don’t really have anything to sell? They do claim to offer Alligator & Python swallowing courses for $20,000 a pop, but that doesn’t strike me as a business plan that would best be supported by intense social outreach. Yet there is something to this band of cheeky irreverents that has captured my attention, and gotten me to really thinking.

I have a love for the obscure, and for the obfuscated, for the inscrutable. Although I confess that this love does not extend to businesses who cannot be buggered to explain who they are and what their services entail. That is the exact opposite of good service and should be frowned upon. This is what got me to thinking when FlypeClub came on my radar. Who the hell are these guys? Were they a business or a set of individuals? What are the rules for marketing in the “social” world if they are a business?

Generally speaking, it is up to me to decide what a thing is, what it is worth, whether or not it is valuable or true. That was the challenge posed to me, more or less, by a mysterious Flyper - who I won’t name unless it’s approved - in regards to FlypeClub. That it is up to ME to decide what it is. I liked that. I appreciated greatly the direct outreach, and I appreciated more the admission that it is in fact up to me (and you, and you, and everybody who won’t read this) to decide “what is FlypeClub”.

Seems to me that this has always been the guiding principle of business, and of life. Experts, professionals, self-appointed social leaders can all tell me exactly what they want me to know. Media and corporations have the things which they feel will be liked by the largest amount of people. The great unwashed mobs of people I see on a day to day basis, and the scores of people who write opinions on the internet also provide information on what there is to like about this, that, and the other thing. That is all fine and dandy. I tend to prefer the opinion of someone experienced with a subject or a product to tell me about that subject or a product, and I always attempt to get opinions from other, ostensibly unbaised sources. Yet the thing that so many people do not seem to grasp is that ultimately it is absolutely, one hundred percent my decision (and yours, and yours, and everybody not reading this) as to what is hip, what is worth buying, and what is true.

Really, it’s always been that way. Influence only goes so far. The task of a business, an organization, a person who wishes attention from many is to do this: provide the public with something they cannot get from anyone else. Or, if they can get the product/service/opinion from someone else, give them very good reason to embrace yours over someone else’s.

This is one of the reasons I signed on to be an affiliate of TorsoPants. Yes, they (technically) sell tshirts. Yes, there are dozens of “witty” tshirt companies abroad, particularly on the internet. But I saw these guys and immediately liked everything about their site and what they had to offer. (For the record I have not yet bought my very own pair of TorsoPants, but I am also pretty broke.) It’s something that everyone needs (clothing) and it’s got a shine to it that no one else really has.

Another fine example of providing something unique is Scarlet Imprint. I have purchased two books from them so far, The Red Goddess, and Howlings. They provide something that no one else does, and they do it well. Their books are well written, and well made (I was expecting much less from such a small press), and they are rare. Not only are they rare (very limited print runs), but they make it very clear that they take their work very seriously, and they are willing to communicate directly with those who would buy from them.

I am a decision making machine, and I am primed by the words and actions of others, but I don’t fire until my internal system of checks and balances has had its say. What kind of decision making machine are you?

• @bloggersblog hear hear, viva la literature! #
• Gah. I wake up to an internet fight over twitter. that’s like waking up & walking into a bar argument #
• pro baseball? overpaid children. for most people, the local bar owner is more personally important. #
• @chrisgarrett huh. we were just talking about ALICE yesterday. I heard she was a bitch. looks like it fits your theory #
• @chrisgarrett it goes back to at least the 19th http://tinyurl.com/3b2s96 #
• When I read about the internet being an instrument for social destruction I think "good, there’s a lot of cleaning up to do" #
• @chrisgarrett omg, no wonder you’re so up in arms, these strumpette people can kiss my ass. paranoids. #
• Riddle me this: how can you espouse your negative opinions about the internet on the internet, and expect any respect? #
• I’m not so sure that a luddite, pro-expert, pro-professional should be arguing on twitter. it screams hypocrite #
• @chrisgarrett you have to be published on dead trees or harass someone who’s been on tv to be pro, duh #

Editor’s note: man I was a twitter whore today. cut for length.
Read the rest of this entry »

• @jbancroft must be a big dang plane to need that many pilots #
• curly wheat pasta drenched in simple tomato basil sauce. om nom nom nom #
• @steveswrong I signed up for some basic media embedding worked ok couple times used #
• sms tweeters, what kinda tech you packin? #
• I just registered worstbarever.com .org & .net who wants to touch me? #
• hahaha. thanks @iScatterling #
• @iscatterling oooh… that’s good too! too bad I’m outta money. XD #
• I <3 @brianshaler #
• @brianshaler Oh god oh god I hope the quotes weren’t necessary! #

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Last night the most remarkable series of things happened, resulting in a delightful print out just for you!
In #ormgas (the IRC channel for the OCR internet radio broadcast), Leissi pasted the following -

Notice: This Department requires no physical fitness program: everyone gets enough exercise jumping to conclusions, flying off the handle, running down the boss, knifing friends in the back, dodging responsibility, and pushing their luck.

Struck with inspiration, I decided to make a poster from this material. I also decided that the various cautionary signs from the game Portal, with their wet-floor-sign-guy-in-major-peril quality, were the absolute best to give some graphical window dressing to this wry jab at working life. (I realize the quote is rather old, but I’d forgotten all about it until Leissi was kind enough to remind me of it.)

After several fruitless searches (shocking with the amount of slavering Portal fanatics out there) in the ever-convenient Google Image Search, I finally dug up a panel of Portal’s caution signs. It wasn’t very large so I tried to resize it cleverly, but the end result was still fuzzy. Seeing as this was meant to be a five minute haha on my part, I wasn’t terribly concerned.

I did however take the time to change the saying slightly to make it more apropos to my own current working life. Pleased with myself, I saved a copy as a jpg and slapped it up in #ormgas, and in #ectomo.

I left shortly thereafter, and thought nothing of it, until I came in this morning and checked my gmail. What appeared before my eyes, but a white knight from the depths of #ectomo, Maicro, come to clean up the fuzzy Portal images and raise this snarky little geek joke to the next level of professional subversiveness.

Without further ado, a giant jpg for you to print and share with all the people who fill you with levels of contempt that are at best unhealthy and at worst result in much head explodey.

One million thousand thanks to Leissi and Maicro for their invaluable contributions in the field of snarky, passive-aggressive sign leaving technology. If you have opportunity, comment with links to photos of this particular sheet in action.

Markoff Chaney would be so very proud.

http://www.shelfari.com/giania
I was tipped off by someone on my LJ friends list yesterday that there was indeed a social site based around books! Thank goodness. I’d been saying for ages I wish I had some place to collect a list of everything I’d read. At one point I tried to keep a .txt file of all my comics and that proved to be an extremely daunting task indeed.
This, however, is like Last.FM, or wishlist specifically for books, for lack of a better comparison. For those who prefer audiobooks, neverfear, you are welcome here, as searches do turn up audiobook versions of pretty much every author or title I searched for thus far.
I have to say that other than the quirky behavior of the searches after I add books in Opera I really find going through and adding everything I own and have read (not necessarily one and the same!) to be a really addictive process. It’s so fun, just seeing everything I’ve read laid out like that, and knowing I’ve still got a lot more to look up. You can really tell a lot about a person by what they read, it seems.
It is rather nice to be able to see what your friends have read and ask them about it, rather than having to pry them for information on what they’ve read or hope they remember a book they read several years ago just to tell you.
Even though I already have a stack of items to read that is quite probably taller than I am, I’m always looking for suggestions on more things to read. So do go ahead and friend me if you decide to sign up for Shelfari, and be sure to tell them I sent you!
Happy reading!