Sdtrk: ‘Cherish’ by Ike Yard

Absolute zero, meaning the weather is neither hot or cold;
it is in a perfect null-state

I’m starting to believe that this ridiculously frigid weather is actually having an influence on my lifestyle and mindset. Since the beginning of Winter — not the official beginning of Winter, as it’s been freezing off and on in SE Michigan several weeks before that — I’ve noticed an increased willingness to hibernate, a drop in my writing output, which extends to my creativity at large, as I’ve had no inclination to either do legitimate research on potential posts, or work on other creative things, such as ‘Kitten with a Whip!’, for example, and worst, a dip in my libido; which, for any Scorpio worth their salt, is almost inconceivable. I undoubtedly sound like a broken record, but it is just too cold to do anything but stay in bed, where the heat is. At the moment, I’m at a creative standstill, which is really unsettling.
And the thing is, I’ve noticed similar behaviour in a couple of friends of mine. I don’t know if you can chalk it up to the whole Seasonal Affective Disorder thing, but I wouldn’t rule it out entirely. Don’t get me wrong; I love me some overcast days, but egad, you gotta break that shit up now and again. Couple that with polar temperatures and crappy driving conditions, and Winter’s approval rating just continues to sink. Really, the only thing that makes Winter better than hateful Summer is that it doesn’t make you sweat, but that’s a small comfort, all told.

Therefore, I propose that we follow the example of our friends, the bears and squirrels, and hibernate during the Winter season. Of course, I don’t mean that we should literally stuff ourselves with acorns and honey, crawl into a cave or hollow tree, and sleep for three straight months out of the year. Although you’d be free to do that if you liked, but that’d be weird. No, what I’m saying is that society should go for a general go-slow when Winter sets in. Not like a complete shutdown of industrialised society or anything, but more of a simple understanding on the part of companies if an employee calls in to say, ‘sorry, I won’t be coming in today; it’s like 3°F outside.’ All this, naturally, would be done without cutting into any time-off time, or sick time, or vacation time, et al. It’d be officially sanctioned, but regulated so that business wouldn’t be short-staffed. It’d be a lot like Golden Week in Japan, only it’d be more like Golden Twelve Weeks…
The hoped-for result is that people would be more well-rested and less stressed-out overall, and ready to tackle the remaining nine months. Honestly, what better time to stay indoors and recharge your batteries than when Mother Nature’s being a disagreeable tart?

In other news, due to considering how Tomas and Jaems are attempting to simplify things with their lives, I’ve deleted my Livejournal account, as well as sixsixsixties.blogspot.com, which is where ‘Shouting etc etc’ got its start, and my Facebook account. My Livejournal consisted of a single post that essentially said ‘Nothing here, go to my actual blog’, so there’s no loss there, and what remained on Blogger/Blogspot said the same. As far as Facebook, I’ve already expressed my displeasure with it, but between Thursday night and my drive to work Friday afternoon, I thought to myself, why do I still have a page on Facebook? Initially I started it due to that twat in Australia co-opting my identity on Myspace, so I started a profile of my own, in order to stop Hitler at Munich, as it were. The thing with Facebook, however, is that when a person registers, they’re required to enter both a first name and a surname. Obviously I wasn’t putting in my actual surname, so I used a ‘fictional’ one. In addition to me realising that in effect, no-one can make a Facebook page for Davecat, not even myself, and since I had very little interaction with the site anyway, I decided that deleting the account would be the best thing for all involved. Twelve out of the fourteen people I’ve made friends with all there already know other ways to get hold of me, and as for the other two, well, you’d be well advised to bookmark ‘Shouting etc etc’. Now, if only I could get rid of my Myspace profile that easily, and ensure that no-one else re-starts it…

via text, Saturday:
SafeTinspector (2.28 pm): Re: facebook.
I pretty much ignore mine and consider it a biographical aggregator. It auto-pulls in my twitters, flickrs and blog posts.
Davecat (2.38 pm): Yeah; the sole content of my Facebook is my Twitter feed, but then, why not just check my Twitter feed?
Davecat (2.39 pm): My Facebook is like a (Organik) appendix. If you can get rid of it, do so, cos you really don’t need it.
SafeTinspector (2.48 pm): You could also have it parrot your flickr, youtube and WordPress posts. It requires 0 maintenance, so mine shall remain, as my MySpace page, as a simple signpos
SafeTinspector (2.48 pm): t.
Davecat (2.49 pm): Bah. BAH! *dismissive hand gesture*
Davecat (2.49 pm): That was the idea with my Myspace, but people just stop there instead of going to my blog! I’m funnelling.
SafeTinspector (2.49 pm): I’m glad you specified “Organic” appendix, as I am a pig proponent of appendices.
Davecat (2.50 pm): Proponent of pig appendices?

Twitter’s always a laugh, though! That’s not going anywhere

Sdtrk: ‘Action for green 3’ by Merzbow

Many of you under the age of, say, twenty-five, won’t remember this, but back in the olden days, television didn’t always broadcast a relentless twenty-four hours a day. Stations would actually shut down and go off the air at certain times, usually after midnight. As I live in the metro Detroit area, within gazing distance of Canada, I grew up watching a lot of Canadian television, which undoubtedly explains a lot. But I remember, particularly after the foreign films that CBET, CBC’s station for Windsor, Ontario, would show on late Saturday nights, that they’d shut down for the eve. This was followed by their national anthem, invariably played over footage of their flag in the breeze, some elk, and Don Cherry shouting at a puppy.

O, Canada
Our home and native land
Hm hm hmm hmm
Hm hmm hmm hmmmmm hm hm hmmm
And the rocket’s red glare

Or something of that nature. As I found myself staring out the rear window of goshou and Steph’s van, watching the cornfields and cows go by, and listening to Zip Gun and SafeT play their PSP and DS (respectively), that anthem played subtly in my head. Then it was replaced by ‘Princes of the Universe’ by Queen. But I’m getting a wee bit ahead of myself!

Click here for the rest of the post, bunky »

Sdtrk: ‘Fourth of July’ by Galaxie 500

As it was the first Sunday after Labo(u)r day, Mari, the lads and I were going to hit the Battle of the Brits event over at Freedom Hill, and stroll amidst numerous parked MGs, classic Mini Coopers of all stripes, and that one bloke who always brings his DeLorean. Not this year, though! O, no no. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Pretty much late Friday, it’d been raining quite a bit in the SE Michigan area, the fact of which can undoubtedly be blamed on Hurricane Ike, which is currently paying a visit to my friend Jaems over there. Despite being several states away from Texas, Michigan’s weather stability is as fragile as glass. You’re familiar with the whole ‘a butterfly flaps its wings somewhere and China explodes’ analogy? That’s pretty much par for the course with Michigan. A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere, and over here, the very ground erupts, belching forth random superheated jets of steam. It could be worse, obviously, but still. Aside from that, someone needs to find that butterfly and kill it, if it cannot be contained through ordinary means. So when I woke up (late) on Saturday, it’d already been pissing down for hours, with no end in sight until Monday-ish, according to the weatherman.

Now, with the Battle of the Brits, the programme directors stick to that date, rain or shine, despite the fact that as they only hold it for one day in an open-air area. Which seems, I dunno, retarded? I can understand that strolling amidst a passel of Minis in the rain would accurately replicate being in damp ol’ Engerland, but would you want that? They’ve been holding this event for years; surely they could find a venue with a roof? At any rate, we were crossing our fingers, hoping for a turnaround with the weather for Sunday.
So as I’d said, it’d been pissing down all day, and I had nearly finished getting ready for hanging out wi’ the lads like we do every Saturday eve. Round 5pm, I was looking up stuff online about the esoteric UK Seventies telly series ‘Children of the stones‘, and waiting for Zip Gun to swing round and pick me up, when I heard a muffled explosion in the near distance. Nothing huge; just a sound you’d perhaps expect from an engine block detonating. Seconds later, the power at Deafening silence Plus went out. Following that, about a minute later, I heard my neighbours emerge from their apartments, asking if the power had gone out. Answer: yes. Turns out a transformer blew across the road, killing the power to our little complex. The landlord’s understudy (don’t ask) informed us that Edison would have it taken care of in about three hours, which was okay with me, as I was heading out anyway. Although I didn’t get a chance to shave, but I’d live. So as I had about twenty minutes to kill before ZG’s appearance, I uncharacteristically took my folding stool outside and finished reading my copy of J.D Salinger’s ‘Franny and Zooey’. Lovely book, highly recommended.

After Zip Gun picked me up, we then sped out to aneamo’s place to pick him up, then we hit the local Steak n Shake for dinner, which is something we’d not done in years. Following that, we made a tactical strike on an area Meijer, and then a GameStop, so I could buy Yakuza 2, which just came out last week. Lovely game, highly recommended. Any game that crosses exploring a small Japanese metropolis with the ability to beat a man to death with a bicycle is pretty highly-ranked in my book.
The three of us converged on SafeT’s humble abode, meeting up with goshou who’d already been there for a while, and alternately played retro videogames, petted his cats and dogs, and watched ‘Logan’s run’, until roughly two in the morning. Before we took off, the lot of us had pretty much come to the conclusion that since we were still in the midst of la deluge, that we’d give the Battle of the Brits a miss and move on with our lives, as it would most likely be raining tomorrow as well.

Well, guess what?

I woke up round 11am, which was really surprising, as I’d a) not bothered to set the alarm, b) Shi-chan failed to wake me up (which happens more often than you’d think), and c) I’d gone to bed at 7am, due to punching and kicking my way through Yakuza 2 the night / morning before. Not only was the pavement dry, but it was actually a sunny 75°F out. Huh! Huh.
So rather than the report I was going to write up concerning the Battle of the Brits, you get this instead! To finish, enjoy this pic of Your Humble Narrator, taken by Monti, when we attended the 1998 BotB.

Mine would be black with silver stripes. And central air

As for me, it’s back to Yakuza 2! After all, those cheap punks won’t hit themselves with lead pipes, no matter how politely you ask

Sdtrk: ‘Today’s rhythm people’ by The Focus group

Hrrm. Is anyone else here somewhat disappointed that, upon activation yesterday, the Large Hadron Collider didn’t spawn a cluster of black holes, thereby compressing this miserable planet into gravel in moments? Go on, raise your hands

Sdtrk: ‘Roma’ by Pizzicato five

Cos you’ve heard it before, really. But perusing my stats this eve, I did get a hearty laugh out of someone hitting ‘Shouting etc etc’ through a phrase that (temporarily) shifted the scowl from my face:

As a completely unrelated point of interest, I’d also like to point out that on average, the price of a gallon of 87-octane petrol in the tri-county area is between $3.79 – $4.07 USD. Just something to consider

Sdtrk: ‘L’escargot’ by Michael Nyman

PRAISE “BOB”. Remember all those comments from the first iteration of ‘Shouting etc etc’ that were previously gathering dust on HaloScan? They are now completely transferred. Every last one of them. By hand, I might remind you. Shi-chan’s double-excited, as I told her that when I was done with all that transfer silliness, that I would get back to resurrecting ‘Kitten with a Whip!‘ *exhales* O boy.
But for now, go enjoy the past!

Being a fan of Montreal’s finest sons and daughters, the Dears, I periodically read vocalist and keyboardist Natalia Yanchak’s blog, bizarrely titled ‘Natalia Yanchak’s Blog‘, wherein she details life with lead vocalist and hubby Murray, being a mum, trying to stay environmentally aware, recording fumfuh, etc. Recently, she posted an entry that resonated very strongly with me:

Facebook Killed My Blog…
…not that it’s completely dead or anything. But the amount of laptop time I permit myself per day is limited, and with the addition of Facebook to my online routine, there’s just less time for blogging. I mean, this blog should be enough of a window into my life: does it really need to be supplemented with a half-assed Facebook profile?
the rest of the article is here

Obviously, you can just as easily replace any instances of the word ‘Facebook’ with ‘Myspace’, as they’re entirely interchangeable. Both are essentially glorified profiles, for the purposes of networking and negligible announcements. For someone such as myself who already has a blog, keeping up with a social networking site is just one more silly thing I have to look after. Were it not for some tosser in Australia, I wouldn’t have a Myspace at all.

I do have a Facebook profile (and no, I’m not linking it here; if you’re clever though, you’ll know what name to look under) that I’ve mucked about with maybe five or six times, as frankly, I find the interface to be even more baffling than Myspace, which is a feat I wouldn’t have thought possible. What are these ‘gifts’ they keep referring to? There’s a wall that you can write on? Human G knows Human L, who knows Humans T, KK, and 42? What is this, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon??

The one thing I hate most about Facebook is that unless you friend someone… fuck. Let me stop that right now. Unless you add someone as a friend, you can’t have any access to info about them. I realise that for people merely seeking to beef up the number of ‘friends’ they have, that’s no big deal, but personally, I want to know something about you before I accept you into my life. Does that not make any sense to anyone else??

I realise that I’m making myself sound like a cranky geriatric, but I dunno, I like writing, as opposed to merely commenting in bulk. Again, Myspace and Facebook are profiles, and as such, they don’t exactly engender writing at length, and listing the shitty bands that you like doesn’t count.
So basically, I’m drawing a line under it: I’m not accepting adds or wasting time with either Myspace or Facebook anymore. I’m not deleting mine or Sidore’s — you can thank that enterprising Australian for that — we’re just no longer maintaining them. Should someone send me a message, I’ll simply ask they Email me. Remember Emails, and how fun they were? But yeah, I’m curtailing keeping up with them cos frankly, if curious types really want to know about me or the Missus, they should be rooting through ‘Shouting etc etc’, rather than some facile social networking site

Sdtrk: ‘Walking in LA’ by Missing persons

That’s… almost body temperature. That can’t be good

Out of all the seasons we have foisted upon us, Summer has to be the worst, hands down. Autumn’s subtlety makes it superior; Spring’s never done me far wrong; Winter looks beautiful but it’s crap to be out in, but being chilly still beats basting in your own juices any day. The only redeeming thing about Summer is that it makes women reassess their choices in footwear, but that’s it, and that’s only a marginal reward, all told.

When I was younger and more willing to step out-of-doors, I remember developing a heat rash every Summer for three years running. Additional details are fuzzy, but I recall it was disgusting, as rashes tend to be. Then, of course, there’s the sweating, which, as far as I’m concerned, is a design flaw in Organik humans. Do you see cats sweating? No, no you don’t. Obviously they know something we don’t… And don’t forget tanning! Because making your flesh leathery and courting melanoma is always a worthwhile goal.

I’ll tell you: on the way to work Friday when I took the picture above, I saw a bloke geting his exercise in by running. Over the course of a mile, his body mass visibly shrank, as he was so overheated that he was rapidly losing weight. He went from probably about 185 lbs. to 40 just like that. Having stopped at an intersection, he was so weak and dehydrated that not only did he collapse, but the broiler heat of the tarmac reduced his frail form to a steaming paste within seconds, iPod and all.
Also, I saw a Pomeranian burst into blazing flames. It’s true.

In about a decade, when I am rightfully crowned First Grand Monarch of Earth, I resolve to put an end to this ‘summer’ ridiculousness; however, I’ve not decided how exactly. Either I’ll have enormous Bucky Fuller domes constructed over the major cities of the world, or I’ll have a fleet of gigantic air conditioning units flying in continuous formation around the globe, whichever’s more effective. Personally, I’m leaning toward the dome idea, cos if it worked for the society in ‘Logan’s Run‘, then there must be something to it, right?

Summertime. Clearly Nature’s biggest mistake