July 17, 2012

The Life of a Celebrity

Everybody craves the spotlight in america. Furthermore, we all have more roads to recognition than ever before. Egotistical micromanaging neurotics flock to twitter. Budding social dilettantes plaster themselves all over the Facebook. The new geeks, the real technical supermen, find Facebook too noisy. They prefer the quiet gardens of Google+. And everybody, and I mean everybody, uses Youtube.

You see, everybody in america wants to be a celebrity. But there’s something wrong. Everybody, you see, is a celebrity. There is no Facebook profile with no friends. Everybody follows somebody on twitter. 4chan is a boiling pit of recognition just as much as it is a boiling pit of hate. So why all the cynicism?

Perhaps the thousandth comment is as shallow as the first. I’m not one to shout at the top of his lungs. I certainly shy away from aspects of Hollywood. But I would, I suppose, enjoy a good conversation. Steaming black tea may loosen the tongue and freshen the senses. It is much to be preferred over a keg of Budweiser. The truth is this. A cup of tea makes a friend, but a keg stand breaks a tooth.

It’s interesting, the life of a celebrity. We all envisioned gold-plated restrooms and diamond encrusted stool swallowers. I think I’d settle for a deep conversation, an intimate relationship, instead of a thousand tenuous connections. That is what I’d like.

There are others, though, that relish the lime-light. It makes sense, I suppose. In a country where material needs are at such a level, a large number of people have only one real need left. The need for egotistical gratification. There’s nothing wrong with that. Some need more friends than others. Some need less. Some need deep connections, and some nod off at the talk of intimacy.

That’s what I like about this world. Information is so easily accessed. Is it any wonder that so much of it is taken for granted?

July 17, 2012

The king of limericks

The Manic Magician of Notre Dame

A poem by JoseLuis

It may be so plain, but never is simple, the thoughts I now deign to write own. For must I forgo all the things I’ve been told, abandon my pencils and pens? How right you so are, who’ve set high the bar, but please understand if I smile. I can’t go a mile, and meet not a pile of garbage ‘been smeared with dog ****. So ‘scuse my faux paux if I drop my big jaw and ask, really, is all this what’s it?

Now I’ve begun, I’ve forgotten the sun, that thing which does give us all life. I’m filled with such strife, as I’m under the knife, and nothing is real any more. I’m callous and sore, and my guts I’ve outpoured, under the blackness of rain. They call out my name, throughout Notre Dame, as he who has fallen insane. They whisper my name, throughout Notre Dame, as he who was driven Insane.

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July 17, 2012

Chuck Norris is Gay

I’ve heard so much about ‘Ol Norris, but what has he to really say? Has he ever really saved the day? His arms were wrenched away by master Lee, and how much of him do I really see? Apparently he hates the trailer parks, they say. Apparently, he’s loved such women, he has turned out Gay. A ginger beard, the man has reared, but silly does it look. Chuck Norris is a figment man compared to Captain Hook.

Mr. Hook, in turn, is cake to Peter Pan. Yet even he must back away from Alice, in her wonderland. And off the links do go, a chained up mess of culture creeps. And all of them now be deceased. Who speaks of Kublai Khan or Giappetto? Who speaks of a kiss so long or a bedtime ghetto?

I stand at the back of the library place. I hope to be dazzled with works of great grace. I find out too late that no life occupies what might I surmise to be bookshelves of such of a size–I find out the lies! The lies, they’ve been said! They’ve burst out my head! And now that I know that you won’t give a damn, I walk out the door before it does slam. I leave you in bed.  I walk out that door. I don’t give a crap about Norris no more.

July 17, 2012

Television is more Real than Reality

The Silver Screen

A Poem: By Joseluis Nunez

I see a perfect row of ghastly faces when I stare into the telly screen. These ancient masks of theatre do cringe and cowl and gasp and glare. These actors on the silver screen just scream about the lives they live. Lives lived like gods on top olympic thrones. My friends–if you be friend– more likely be you foe, I’ll make an honest pact with you. I’ll set the record right away. I’ll certainly be honest, too:

I tire of triviality. I’m full of feeble speak. No longer do I like the simple words of praise. I hunger for another time, and another day and way. No judge shall judge upon me, nor the words I say. No mob shall come enthrong me, no more, no more today. I’ll speak my honest heart and hope to hear you say, “By god, this boy has right the words! I’ll listen every day!”

And so, the words I speak right now, I’ll speak them right away: The actors on the silver screen do live a life above the fray. The magic of the movies needs to disappear. I myself must stop my drinking of the beer. Go out! Go out! Run out and rummage through the soil! Bake a cake and eat it too, with stockpiled elbow oil! Leave my phone on top the shelf, and see what mysteries might show themselves. But worry not, for I’ll return.

I’ll tell you all what I have learned.

July 17, 2012

Honesty on the Internet

People rarely speak seriously online. Facebook smacks of triviality, and twitter overflows with the mundane. I ask myself why this happens, but can only guess that we are afraid. The anonymous internet supposedly empowers us, but it goes to far. The super-connected facebook is the opposite. A facebook user clicks a button, and their words flash in front of a million minds. These people hardly know us. Those that do, do not know deeply. And so, we are scared. We are mean on 4chan. Everyone is a potential enemy. We are meek on facebook. Everyone is a potential judge. The sole signal separating 4chan from facebook is a name and number, a face and features. The two technologies display two tyrannies, two despotic kingdoms born of both extremes.

We made the internet in honest aim. The first of information passed through plastic pipes was poetry compared to the tweets of today. But greed gripped us. An honest man, seeking more communication, dreams of reaching all the rowdy masses from a single message. Out of this thirst came a cacophony, a vast morass of people pleading others to pay them attention. The ancient cults gave birth to better gods. These gods give ego satisfaction to our selves. Worship means a million views, and prayer means a link exchange.

I know not what to do. I miss the days my friends and I sat down below the summer sun. We lay, sprawled out over the porch, munching on pink sandia flesh. We measured our words with caution in the prescence of other people. But within our company we jested all the day. Only with the SMS, it seems, have we lost the words we used to say. I’d sit in front that porch again, or dance to some event. I’d leave the house and huck it up with neighbors, friends, and femmes to. But I can see no opportunity.

I can speak my mind with nerves of rope. I can hold an honest table. I can speak with special thought for how I truly feel. All I need is nerves of rope. All I need are balls of steel.

July 10, 2012

The Teune Language

Conlang Creation


I am working on the creation of a language. It is called Teune, which means tongue in the language. Language creation is a long hallowed past-time for a select group of individuals. The practice gained some international recognition with the creation of Esperanto, an international auxiliar language. Such languages were meant to foster international communication, but I see such intentions as misguided.


An international auxiliary language, otherwise known as an auxlang, is usually a simplified pidgin consisting of the scattered remnants of several other remnants. The most famous example, Esperanto, is very simplified and easy to learn. Unfortunately, the simplicity of such languages does not enhance their popularity much.


An artlang is a language created just for the purpose of creating a language. These languages often rival the complexity of natural languages when developed enough. My language, Teune, will be of the artlang variety. I do not expect any large population of individuals to learn the language and speak it. I do this mostly for the gratification of crafting an intricate system.

Languages are, at their core, systems of rules. These systems are highly intricate, and extremely detailed. They are adaptive and possess teh ability to change and morph as time passes by. The creation of Teune will be such a system. It shall be an intricate beauty, filled with its own systems and subsystems and rules and meta-rules.

After I complete the teune language, I will begin work on detailing the culture of the Teune People. The Teune people, as of yet, do not exist on paper. But eventually, the culture will be flesched out enough that I may write some small works of fiction about them. I hope to accomplish this within my own lifetime.

July 8, 2012

Changes in Physical States

I was sitting in my room. Just listening to the hum of the generator outside calmed me down. The lighting was dim. The sun had gone far past its zenith, and I had been on the eastern side of the house, hence the bounteous shade. For a moment, I glanced at my wall. My silver desklamp craned its neck, and the full spectrum of yellow shades embraced my wall. The light was ovoid. From a center circle it stretched, parabolic in nature, from a bright and yellow center to a mellow move, seamlessly blending to a perfect shade of white. I was suddenly struck with an idea.

Imagine the spectrum: A vast ocean of roiling, throbbing, and pulsating waves. A concentration of matter will affect the spectrum. A concentration of matter will bend. But now, just for a moment, understand that a photon or a proton, that a quark or a Higgs, that these things not be waves or particles, but that they be space. What if matter stretched and shrunk? What if matter was just another form of space?

There is an idea. In the physics world, there is a thing that is known as a brane. Multiple dimensions of space exist side by side, simultaneously. They are all stuck to the brane. String theory has not measured these dimensions, but what if they are right in front of our faces? What if the five forces of nature imply five dimensions? What if a wave is the stretching of electron “space”?

There are no answers. At least not from me. I admit to only having an idea, and I understand that the mathematics needed to verify it lay beyond my reach. But it is a start. This is how the world is changed.

July 2, 2012

The Fish

What fish could stand to swim
alone in depths so deep,
as dark eternal sleep?

Perhaps it was a whim
that grew the fish his feet,
a lengthy giant leap!

Pose a proper portrait;
Smile, or lest thee forfeit,
all the things thee be.

July 2, 2012

The Hope Of the American People

So I’m sitting, here, looking at a picture of Robert Downing Junior, and I’m thinking to myself, “What’s the point of it all?” It may be said that I view the world with a bit too much introspection. And now, I am looking at three sturdy brick columns on the side of the library. They support most of the library’s weight, and are composed of stone excavated from a nearby quarry and fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.

For the longest time, stone construction was a good method of constructing buildings. The romans used stone, and in addition to that stone, built with shapes such as the arch to form structures much larger than anything else concieved at that time. The Chinese Han dynasty built grand structures to rival the romans, perhaps. Indeed, the forbidden city in beijing was probably the only wonder of construction that went unrivaled until modern times. Though the roman Colloseum probably came close to rivaling the magnanimity of the Chinese.

Speaking of comparisons between the romans and the Chinese, theirs is a rivalry that is very unusual. It might be said that the ancient romans never actual had much contact with the Chinese. In fact, scant evidence is really available. The Chinese, of course, are commonly known for being historically xenophobic. There have been maps discovered in the ancient chinese archives depicting North America. In fact, the Chinese probably were the first civilization to have visited every continent on earth(An exclusion might be made for Antarctica, which was considered a place not to go. Though they did know of that landmass.)

By comparison, the Romans fell from grace at the time that the Chinese were quickly consolidating their enormous gains in science and technology. Rome was burning before the construction of the Great Wall. It is a very wondrous thing, then, that the western world eventually grew so powerful as to dwarf the Chinese civilization all together.

More than this, I would not be surprised if any Chinese individual, having an awareness of world history, still feels a kind of painful humiliation at the subjugation of the Chinese. This sort of thing would probably never occur in a country like America. America is only about 200 years old, and compared with a civilization that has a history of over 6000 years…shame is not really an emotion befitting an American Businessman.

Again, though, to discuss the stone columns that I am looking at, they are built very much in the style of the nearby spanish Missions, and the reflect a quant, antiquarian mood that blends in seamlessly with the surrounding environment. Outside, a gentle breeze turns the leaves and causes them to sway, and to the south of the building is a large field populated with oak and pine and mesquite.

The days here are beautiful, if a bit hot. In fact, the heat that is so present in the local region has made it difficult for most of the middle class to venture outdoors. The usual people one might find outside are the mexican paleteros, riding on their fifties american bikes and selling ice cream. There are also the many muffler shops that most certainly do not have air conditioning. The sound of bolts ripping and clacking against newly placed tires fills the air.

Where I am, there is the soft murmur of the individual, whispering the words to some lesson plan she is going over on the library computer. The need for such computer use at the library is very strong, as the presence and ease of possessing a computer system prevents the proliferation of internet cafe’s. This, of course, is finely adapted to by the middle class. But coming here to the library, one can easily see the vast variety of lower income individuals who have no computer, who do not know how to work a computer.

These people are the new melting pot. They are not divided by lines of race, or class, or ethnicity. A small, blond haired white girl sits next to a brown skinned moreno wearing an Ed Hardy Baseball cap. And he in turn sits next to a red-skinned older man with asteel dragont-shirt. There are nurses and there are students. There are stay at home moms, plenty of young men who probably know someone in a gang, if they aren’t in one themselves. There are young men who are not in a gang, there are those that play games, and those that do research, and those that date women.

But who isn’t here is very conspicuous. There are no businessmen. There are no politicians. There are no financiers or entrepreneurs of venture capitalists. There are no suits, and there are no ties. These people dress in T-shirts and jeans. Sometimes slacks, and even then, only because they have to go to work at Wal-mart soon.

These people are the great heart of America. They are not cynical, but rather have a hope of bettering themselves. And they may be onthe computer at the library, but they are using that special time tod o research, to teach themselves new things, to experience new things. They are applying for Jobs, they are writing editorials. They are reading the news. They are participating in a vast and vibrant culture, of which they themselves are creating independently of the media.

In fact, the media itself has a term amongst these people. Reality Television is Fake propaganda. Sound bites are Jibber Jabber. They have no patience for the politician or the businessman or the elite.

It is out of these people that america will persevere. I have my hopes on them, and I know they will deliver.

July 2, 2012

Advice of the Mariner

Are you lonely, you who drift
forever amidst the ocean sea?
Are you glad that now you have
boundless freedom, energy?
Or be you sad that no one had
the time to write a eulogy?

I’ll tell you man, of many friends,
‘Ere the path the roadway wends.
For proper grief shall find your grave,
the day you serve the lowest knave.

What better eulogy could be,
that speaks of thee so worthily?

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