Sweet Kisses

These truths smash upon my conscious, unconscious
A ferocity, untamed and unchallenged by a series of bleak mistakes
But I would like to disagree, most profoundly and in a manner most epic
Set my hand upon the table and let the thoughts escape
For these truths are not held to be self evident
Instead, in a visceral slash of gracious communal action we incessantly pull back this marvelous

Marvelous curtain, against which we struggle
Marvelous enemy against which we wage a war most unholy
Marvelous speech slowly descending into the vernacular as we lose ourselves in the fog of another late night

We walk these structured streets with minds unstructured
Strolling past alleys and brick and mortar and trash cans
Occupied with the questions that our grand designer himself could not muster the courage to ask
Forcing fear upon us
While you fear the unknown, I fear the known more than I care to admit

These truths, killing me slowly like sweet kisses.

Updates from the Front Lines

This morning I woke up with an intense pain in my stomach. It felt as if I had a very angry chipmunk running amok inside my small intestine. After analyzing the situation I realized that this was probably not the case. I immediately consulted with a nearby medical professional; my mom. She spent a good half a month as a Candy Striper at a local hospital growing up, so I figured if I was to put the future of my digestive tract in any one's hands, she would probably be the best choice. Also her relationship to me means that she doesn't charge me as much as my actual doctor up the street. Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Hey mom, I can't sleep. I'm experiencing sharp pains in my stomach. Please provide me with medical assistance.

Mom: Go back to sleep.

Me: ARGHHHHHHHHH *intense pain followed*

Mom: I guarantee you that it hurt worse when I gave birth to you.

Me: I guarantee you it did not.

Needless to say this did not get me far. Instead I retreated to the relative safety of my bed where I had strange and feverish dreams of rampant bears, waterfalls of Gatorade, a strange picnic where all the food was made out of a delicious cream, and foreboding excerpts from George Bush's State of the Union Address. Strangely enough, those last images were right on the money. It's seems impossible that I could have so accurately predicted a slew of patriotic rhetoric a full day before the speech, but I guarantee you its true.

So it was that I spent all day yesterday cooped up inside of my house confined to a couch with a bad case of the stomach flu. Aside from a few trips to the bathroom to empty my stomach with the sort of honest ferocity that made my envious of anorexic supermodels, I found myself lying on a couch covered with blankets shivering to death as I watched Season 1 of Battlestar Galactica. I kid you not when I say the low point of the day occurred around noon when I found I did not have the strength to get up to insert the next disc to drift through another four episodes of top notch SciFi drama.

Today I again stayed home, but I was not sick. I was still sore from all of the hacking and throwing up stuff and also the fact I ran a half mile a few mornings before in shoes that should not be run a half mile in (or any sort of distance at a pace faster than a mild saunter). However, at about noon I celebrated the one day anniversary of my inability to change the discs in my DVD player my turning off the tv, sitting down and finishing all of my homework. Four intense hours later, I retired to the bathroom where I shaved off my burgeoning mustache, a strange side effect of going five days without shaving. I decided to let the rest grow out, and if I look like Les Stroud by the time I wake up tomorrow, I might just keep it that way.

My Life So Far

I realized it's been quite a while since I've updated this blog with a straight up summary of the current events of my life. In order to maintain the feel of this blog, and try to keep this thing as least-contrived sounding as possible, I've tried very hard to keep you guys happy with a steady flow of some creative work. You may or may not have noticed (depending upon your reading ability), that over the past two months I have really upped the ante, uploading everything from short stories to artwork, with even a poem thrown in for kicks, and I fear that amongst the creativity, my own life may have been lost. And while some may say that creativity represents a big part of my life, you have to remember these are the same people who took the metaphor in the last sentence a bit too seriously. Stow your literary lifeboats my dear readers. This ship is still sailing steady on the course it set out on when it left.

(Updates to follow when I'm less tired, but please note that I've tagged this post with "My Life So Far", so it'll be a recurring feature in later posts.)

Ode to a Dead Possum

The other day I was walking home from school. It's about a two mile walk, and after a long day, and any sort of extracurriculars I may be obligated to, sometimes a long walk home is really nice.

However, not so much on days like the other day. It was about -180 degrees outside, which meant all the oxygen around me was turning into liquid. Needless to say, it was a mistake to be outside during such inclement weather. However, I couldn't turn around and hide at my school (where all of the oxygen is in a gaseous form), because of the secretaries who man the doors after school hours. It didn't seem like a good idea to infuriate them more than I assume they already are, so I decided to just be a man and walk home. I was almost there when I witnessed a very sad sight on the ground. It was an opposum that had frozen during the night and fallen from its tree onto the road. It was near the edge of the road and had not been run over (yet) by any vehicles larger than, say, a child's bicycle. I stared at it for several seconds before continuing on my way, sadder, and colder, than I was mere moments before.

I'm not sure if people understand or appreciate how hard a life a common opposum (or possum, or Virginia Opposum), lives. I know I didn't until I did some research afterwards.

According to a recent study, Opposums are the worlds ugliest creatures. I'm not sure how valid a result this was, especially considering such worthy candidates as The Naked Mole Rat (TNMR)
exist. However, I must agree the Opposum is not an altogether attractive creature. However, I find its mottled fur, beady little eyes, and bare snout a bit endearing. And it may be, by far, the worlds humblest creature. While some may say that the Manatee is the world's most humble creature, I have to say that I respect an animal that has to rummage for food in the garbage much more than an animal that spends all its time in Florida sunning itself and screwing with the propellers on speed boats.

Opossums do not have it easy. They're not native to the areas north of Pennsylvania, but were pushed up here by human development. As a result, they're not adapted to harsh New England winters. In fact, they don't hibernate, unlike most mammals here. Instead they're forced to deal with the cold by digging burrows and making nests out of sticks, bushes, and trash. Their ears are also very susceptible to frostbite. And on top of all of this, they still do not understand the dangers of cars. I can't help but feel bad for the little guys.

Team Amazing: Justice Taskforce Issue 3

Avery Magnum ran a hand through his windswept hair, smoothing the golden strands down against the cool breeze currently blowing from over the sea. It was dawn on the island, and sunlight spilled like water from a bubbling fountain, pouring through the cracks in the thick gray clouds that clung to the indiscernible line that separated water from sky. In the distance, puffy cumulus clouds rose from the horizon like giant beasts, waking from their night slumber, stretching their arms towards the heavens in some mighty appeal to nature. Magnum allowed himself to be momentarily awed by the beauty of the island and early morning sea, the tangy smell of salt that drifted in the air, and the sound of water splashing against the wooden dock he stood upon.
He turned around to examine the work of the men behind him. They were currently unloading the package from the cargo table it had been airlifted in upon. Several forklifts were slowly angling their way towards anchor points on the large package, like barracudas attacking a large and helpless prey. Overhead loomed the metallic structures of two industrial cranes, their operators smoothly guiding wires and hooks toward anchor points on the top. The entire site, carved from the heart of the island and layered in steel and concrete teemed with men and construction crews, all scurrying about trying to get the job completed as quickly as possible.
Avery paced around the perimeter of the site, viewing the package from all angles, ignoring the pain in his ribs. It was gigantic, the package, a monstrosity of human engineering both in appearance and in purpose. Consisting of a thirty foot long aluminum tubular frame, skinned with magnesium, the package tapered to a fearsome point on one end. The other end of the tube was a messy explosion of tubes and wires, pipes and fittings, gaskets of all size coupled to a threesome of conical nozzles. The package was covered in certain places by hundreds of feet of military tarp, gray in the dim morning air, and damp from the night moisture before. It was cool still, and Avery watched as his breath formed cool wisps in the clear air, similar to the jets of steam that occasionally erupted from the openings on the package his engineers and mechanics were currently performing a delicate type of mechanical surgery upon. The entire thing seemed chaotic, but Avery reveled in understanding the true purpose of the project, and the design of the end result. As his crane crews tightened their winches against the strain of hundreds of tons of metal, Avery looked skyward and sighed contendly.

It felt good to be a villain.

The end of the...end

I was planning on posting a blog entitled "The Beginning of the End", at the start of this week, to commemorate the eminent week of midterms that marks the end of my first semester at this crazy experiment they call the public school system. Unfortunately the time flew by, and here I am on a Wednesday night with the bulk of my midterms behind me. I'll describe my first midterm this week in the manner of a trailer for an action movie, which I believe will appeal to the presumably 9-12 year old age demographic that I'm aiming for.

Trailer Opens

(cackling sounds over a dark screen, light begins to show illuminating a table full of evil looking chemicals and assorted flasks, and a few tongs. screen fades to black)

Morgan Freeman (voice over): I once heard a man say that the only thing that matters in life, the only thing that truly matters, is what you do with the time given to you.

(image appears on screen, flickering bright lights that illuminate someone's feet pounding over wet asphalt, its dark all around, the person is carrying a flashlight which constantly strobes over the camera, blinding the view. The camera is shaky, the man is grunting, running hard. He's wearing Reeboks. screen fades back to black)

Morgan Freeman: That man's name was Mike Humbleton. Ever heard of him? *chuckles* No, I didn't think so. He's better known by his other moniker. The Night Owl.

(Screen glows again, illuminating the silhouette of a man leaning back in a swivel chair. He cackles loudly. The image fades to Morgan Freeman talking to a man outside the view of the camera. He's in a library. The shelf behind him is full of Harry Potter books)

Morgan Freeman: He's the man responsible for killing your family.

(Screen fades again to black, the sound of police sirens pierces through, the camera returns to a crime scene, multiple cars and an ambulance outside of a burning apartment. the view switches to a close up of a man's face. it's Noah Wyle)

Noah Wyle: (murmuring, blood on his face) Oh my god. I'm the protagonist... (struggles to wonder why all of his experience on E.R. couldn't save his family)

(scene switches to an old dusty laboratory, with Noah sitting down at a table and Morgan pacing around him wearing a super-fresh lab coat)

Morgan Freeman: The Night Owl is a chemist. One of the best. He killed your family with a new type of chemical weapon, never before heard of. He's planning on selling this weapon to the highest bidder, probably Lebanese terrorists. You were the only person who stood in his way, the only person with the right CIA connections. He made one mistake when he killed your family. He failed to kill you.

Noah: I don't know what to do.

Morgan Freeman: You're the only person who can stop the Night Owl. The only person with the knowledge of where he'll be next.

Noah: I hear he's like a phantom, it's impossible to catch him. I wouldn't know where to start.

Morgan Freeman: He's a chemist. I suggest we fight chemistry with chemistry.

(scene switches to a montage of brief glimpses into Wyle's training. He's pouring chemicals into beakers, lighting Bunsen Burners, Morgan Freeman is teaching him how to tie an apron)

Morgan Freeman (voice over): I'll teach you everything you need to know. How to mix, how to burn, how to effuse. I'll teach you how to make the periodic table your most powerful weapon.

(scene changes to Noah Confronting Wyle on the Golden Gate Bridge. the San Francisco bay underneath appears to be made out of jello)

The Night Owl (played by a demure Robin Williams): You think you know Chemistry? (camera zooms up on Wyles face) You don't know the first thing.

(a car explodes next to Wyle, bubbles of carbon dioxide rip apart the sky overhead, the camera flashes through a tumultuous and jagged array of scenes, bubbling water, fades to black. scenes switches back to a library, Noah is sitting down next to Morgan Freeman.)

Noah: What happened to you? You used to be one of the greatest chemists in the world. You could stand up to the Night Owl.

Morgan (looks into the distance): No, I can't.

Noah (angry): Why not?! What happened to you?

Morgan: A long time ago, I made a mistake. I've been running from it ever since.

(Noah is silent, for the first time ever, seriously rethinking his career)

(scene changes to a sweeping aerial shot of a city, perhaps Quebec, at night. scene changes to a cargo plane flying through dense clouds, pummeled by rain and thunder. A montage of scenes showing the Night Owl preparing his evil toxin, meeting with suspicious looking Middle Eastern men, scenes filled with armed gunmen and rusty warehouses. Camera finally returns back to Morgan Freeman's face, focusing on his old eyes staring into the distance)

Morgan (voice over): Once upon a time, the Night Owl and I weren't so different.

*Swelling of dramatic music, original score by Hans Zimmer, reminiscent of the Crimson Tide Theme*

(Rapid progression through action scenes, Noah fighting in a dark cave, spraying bullets from a machine gun that is glowing bright blue and spraying happiness from an exhaust port. scenes of Noah fighting deep underwater, battling a shark. scenes of the Night Owl and Noah waging an epic chemistry battle on the windswept ice of a glacier in the Arctic Circle, Noah passionately kissing a woman, a bus full of children teetering on the edge of a broken Bridge)

Morgan (voice over during these scenes): I once heard a man say that the only thing that matters in life, the only thing that truly matters, is what you do with the time given to you.

(camera changes to a scene where The Night Owl is holding a flask with glowing green liquid inside up in his hand and laughing maniacally)

Morgan (voice over): Well, what are you going to do? Are you going to make it worth it?

(final scenes show Noah punching the Night Owl in the face, wincing in pain because he's a lover, not a fighter, Morgan Freeman laughing next to a roaring fire in the library, the screen fades to a dark blue which, as the camera zooms out, is revealed to be chemicals bubbling inside of a flask suspended over a burner in a dark room. the screen fades to black. words appear)

COMBUSTION REACTION

3-7-08

Directed by Michael Bay

Current Analysis Preview

Tonight at 9, witness the birth of a brand new News Show. It's CURRENT ANALYSIS. Introducing two new anchors you're going to love: Mr Happy Cube, and Alan Littleton. CURRENT ANALYSIS is a show geared towards the intelligent citizen, for those people who want to keep up-to-date on only the most important goings-on in politics, entertainment, and the economy. CURRENT ANALYSIS circumvents established rules of broadcast news, things like commercialization and product placement that only serve to diminish and trivialize the audience at home. Instead CURRENT ANALYSIS brings just the facts, interpreted to fit your needs and presented in a blistering honest way. It's a new kind of news show. It's CURRENT ANALYSIS!




Mr Happy Cube is a world famous political analyst hailing from Britain. In 1992 he won a Nobel Prize for his work in securing reliable education for the people in war-torn regions of the Congo. Unfortunately, he was not able to accept the award because of his lack of arms. Mr Happy Cube won the 2007 award for Happiest Individual of Questionable Organic Composition for the tenth year in a row.

Alan Littleton is an enigma in the world of news reporting. The network director Mr. James Littleton found Alan unconcious on the road one stormy night almost twenty years ago, and brought him home. James Littleton adopted this young unknown boy after police investigations turned up no evidence as to the boy's identity. The boy himself could not remember anything. Littleton decided to name him Alan, after a dog he once had. Over the years Alan developed an intense passion for journalism and broadcast news from his surrogate father, and attended John Hopkins University where he graduated second in his class in 1998. Since then, Alan has worked as an investigate reporter in numerous political and economic rings and has spent the last four years as co-anchor of Project Thunderteam, an investigate reporting show that had overturned several of the largest scandals in recent history including the famed 2004 Tritozene drug scare in which over 15 patients started turning purple.

Results from New Hampshire

Well, the results are in from that 'ol Granite State and while you've probably already heard them a half dozen times today I'll reiterate them in my own style:

Hillary won the Democratic primaries, beating Obama by two, or three, or five points depending on where you go. In addition, McCain seems to have won the Republican primaries, but I'm not sure if anyone noticed. Ha, I am just kidding of course. Every republican in New Hampshire noticed. Every one of them.

With these results the primary has truly been thrown up in the air. Polls pegged Obama as the clear projected winner, at one point clocking double digits over Clinton in the polls. Many suspect that the thing that saved Clinton in the clutch was her emotional breakdown on camera at a diner. I admire her bravery. That women's tears melted the Granite Stater's presumably granite hearts. Bless them.

In so far as Obama is concerned, he valiantly pledged to continue forward, and with strong polls in South Carolina, I don't think that Hillary can immediately be called the front runner. If this race has taught us anything so far, it's that you can't assume anything. Well, I can, but that's because I'm a radical leftist blogger, and making up facts and diluting the truth to supplement our Communist agenda is our second favorite hobby, right after aborting freedom-lovin' babies. Have I told you how much I love America?

If you're getting slightly angry vibes from me, you wouldn't be too far from the truth. I'm not angry, just very disgruntled. This race is starting to taste a little bitter, with polls swinging all over the place. While it's true that a much larger percentage of voters so far have decided to get out there and exercise those slightly atrophied civic muscles, the possibility that a pair of watery eyes swung the elections in New Hampshire is something I haven't braced myself for. Stay tuned to The New Oceanic for updates regarding the primaries, and occassionaly, some truly objective reporting.

Team Amazing: Justice Taskforce Issue 2

Bellow let the warm sun soak his skin, basking in the cool breath and salty tang of the ocean crashing into the beach beside him. The white sand sparkled in the sun like diamonds, coating his feet and allowing him to feel the crushing impact of each wave, breaking upon the shore, a rhythmic undertow, providing a foundation upon which the shrill cries of seagulls formed a melody, blending together into a seamless concert of nature. Squinting against the bright sun and blue sky, Bellow reflexively blinked as something caught in his eyelash. Reaching up to touch his face, he felt the cool run of moisture dripping down his cheek, melting snow caught in his hair and wild beard.

His mind slowly removed itself from the vivid dream as he struggled to retain conciousness, crashing down the side of the snowy ravine he had, until moments before, been running along. Thrashing out with his arms, Bellow struggles to find purchase against the solid blanket of white surrounding the rocky landscape that is swallowing him up. A hard wind is blowing through the pitch black night, ramming snow with freezing force at his exposed face, like countless numbers of sharp pins being pressed against his skin. He pushes himself up, and takes off at a run, jumping over a small ledge and back tracking over an exposed rock. His body feels strangely light. Suddenly something catches in his mind, still reeling from the blow to the head. Chelsea's Fury, his hammer, is not firmly grasped in his left hand. He looks around but cannot discern its large shape against the blinding sheet of white. It must have been knocked loose when he fell. Struggling to remember why he fell in the first place, he hears shouting over the large hill behind him, and above that, shrill against the howl of the wind, and whining noise. Seagulls? He wonders before realizing it's the sound of multiple SnowCats, large engined tracked snow vehicles. Suddenly the reality of the situation crashes back down upon Bellow's mind. The airdrop. The tundra cave. The terrorist research base. The helicopter getaway. Being shot down, tumbling to a sea of brilliant white. Running. Lots of running. Sounds of explosions. Smashing into something large and hard. Falling into blackness...

Snapping to reality, Bellow quickly launches himself 10 feet downhill angling his descent with reflexes honed by decades of experience. He's in his element now, the snowy capped peaks of jagged mountains. And if they chose to bring the fight to his turf, they were going to play by his rules. Running parallel to the slope of the ridge towering above him, Bellow races, legs pumping against snowy rock, eyes and face shielded by a shaggy mane of tumbling hair. The sound of the SnowCats is getting closer. Their angry whine now clearly discernible against the constant din of the wind, beating against the mountain. At this distance and given these conditions, he racks his mind and roughly gauges their position relative to his own. Relying on his years of mountain living to guide him, Bellow climbs the hill to his right, fighting against the slope and snow. Reaching the top, he runs full steam ahead as the sound of the SnowCats (2, 3 now?) grows to this left. Out of the corner of his eye he notices the glare of headlights bearing down through the driving blizzard, and then everything goes white. Bellow sinks fast into the snow, falling exactly where he estimated the hidden gully to be. No more than four or five feet deep, Bellow angles his body down keeping his below the surface of the snow above. He listens carefully for the sound of the approaching SnowCats, the dense snow transferring their sound with much more precision than the freezing night air above. Suddenly the snow around him rumbles, and Bellow tenses his muscles, letting out a booming yell, expending with every iota of air left in his lungs, creating a supersonic percussion that transferred with equal speed and ferocity into the snow surrounding his body. He's aware, for a split second, of the SnowCats racing along above him and then everything shakes to pieces. The sound of his cry and dislodged the sheet of ice and snow capping this side of the peak and with a sound akin to grinding a sheet of styrofoam along gravel. Gathering speed the snow charges along and Bellow breaks free to the surface, riding a wave of crushing ice behind the tails of the three SnowCats racing ahead, attempting to flee the tidal wave of white behind them.

Barack Obama Wins Iowa Caucuses!

I just learned from the almighty CNN that Barack Obama has won the Iowa Caucuses, garnering 38% of Democratic votes. Not only is this a good indication of a changing political climate in America (there were roughly twice as many voters in Iowa caucusing today as did four years ago), but also a good indication of future success for Mr. Obama. Obama's grass roots campaign is heavily dependent on the intial turnout of voters, especially in the young indecisive demographics, to start momentum. Without this, Barack will falter in the face of Hilary's stronger campaigning and appeal to the middle class majority. Barack Obama's success in Iowa is quite frankly amazing, considering that 90% of Iowa's population is white. If a black man can make it in Iowa, he can make it anywhere and I truly feel that we are in for one hell of a democratic primary.

America's protagonist, John Edwards, is not sulking back in defeat. He ranked second in Iowa results, ahead of Clinton. You can check out a video on CNN of him delivering a "never give up never surrender" speech with flourish and gravitas. I love that man.

If you are among a large majority of Americans who cringe every time you see a closeup of Hilary Clinton's face on TV, I strongly urge you to register as a Democrat and vote in the primary elections in the coming months. Vote Obama for change, and we'll see how tangible the lustrous dream that this great nation of ours is built upon truly is.

New Year's Resolutions

Happy New Years everyone, or at least those of you not incapacitated by crippling hangovers combined with the hollow feeling of already violated New Year's resolutions. Isn't the new year such a magical time?!

My New Year's Eve was nice, quiet uneventful, very much like the ideal holiday I had envisioned for myself when I'm 60 years old. In other words a little disappointing. I got invited to a party, but the way life operates, I couldn't make it and instead sat at home with my brother watching Gladiator. Before you remark about how manly a movie Gladiator is, I'd like to say that both my brother and I threw in the towel and went to bed early. Maybe I'm already a 60 year old man in everything but appearance...

...Sorry I was checking for new wrinkles. As much as my New Year's Eve may have been underwhelming, I'm getting very good vibes from the new year so far. Intrafamiliar conflict was kept pretty low today, I got most of the work I had put off all vacation done this afternoon, and even worked in some videogaming, which was fantastic stress relief. To top it all off I remarked this afternoon while watching the end of Gladiator that I would absolutely love a chicken pot pie, and upon opening the freezer tonight, lo and behold, there sits five or six chicken pot pies, ripe for microwavin'. Sometimes I think the world loves me too much.

Anyway, here's the list all of you guys have been waiting for:


ANDREW'S LIST OF NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS:
(Revised to include at least a few he might actually keep)

-Stay focused on important things like work, school, and projects like building barns, harvesting wheat, etc. (This is something I've noticed myself improving in recent months anyway, so I figured I may as well not fight the trend).

-Think more about people who aren't me. (This one will prove challenging).

-Read more (I used to read like a book or two a week and I really want to get back to this).

-Worry less about certain aspects of my future (like what to name my kids).

-Worry more about certain aspects of my future (like how I'm gonna pay for all that schoolin')

-Blog more (you all deserve that).

-Never forget about the people that rely on me (This one is based on recent events and while relevant, also serves as the "obscure intra personal" resolution that is a requisite on any self-respecting list).


Well that it's for now. I might add some later depending on my mood, because any real New Year's Resolutioner knows it's never too late to resolve to change.



Thanks for a fantastic 2007, and I hope your 2008s are even better,
Andrew