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Monday, October 15, 2007
Petey loved hayrides. As soon as the tenth of October rolled around, every year, it was just about all he would talk about. "Guys," his eyes wide, "guys, it's the tenth! Hayriding starts tonight!" Then he'd disappear up to his little attic hide-away and start digging through his clothes until he found what he called his "hayriding dungarees" and his "hayriding flannel." He bought them at a thrift store with his first paycheck he ever earned. The jeans had this weird cross-stitching all over them that he said helped keep the straw from "jabbing my ass." The shirt's front pockets had both been ripped off and I'm not sure he ever washed it the whole time he had it. But, once he put them on, he was as good as gone for the night. And the next night, and the night after that, and so on and so forth until it got to be the end of November. Hell, one year, he joined a 30something singles group just to go on their hayrides because he heard they had free hot chocolate with whiskey in (and, they did). We'd go with him on these hayrides, sometimes, usually the first few before we'd get bored of them. Not Petey, no. He never got bored of hayrides. When we'd ask him why he loved them so much (and we'd ask him at least three times a season, just to watch his eyes fill up with tears of adoration and the hair on his neck stand out with glee), he'd always say the same thing. "Guys, I've got three reasons for loving hayrides. First, girls get cold, and when they get cold their nipples poke all out and they like you to hold them. Second, you get to spend the evening riding in a wagon full of hay. And third, you bond with a handful of people you might not even know over cups of hot chocolate or a case of beer. Guys," he'd add, "it's the life." One time one of these "girls," on which he was so keen to snuggle up, turned out to be the 34 year old waitress from Spotless Diner. We spent many nights there, smoking and eating chili cheese fries, and they all knew us by name. We all knew her, too. She was our favourite because she always wore her shirt extra tight around her D cups. I guess that night it happened to be particularly dark. Petey was on his hayride with the Thirty-Somethings Activity Group (which he called STAG, for some reason). We went along with him for the night, since you were allowed to bring friends, but I don't think they believed any of us but Petey was in his thirties. See, Petey had this way about him that he could convince anybody he was any age under 50 and they'd believe him. Anyway, that night, when it was really dark, we were passing through this one spot where the moonlight was always shadowed out by high pines on both sides of the hayride road. One minute, Petey was between us, laughing and talking loudly and making everybody else laugh and pour him more whiskey in his hot cocoa. The next thing we knew, that moon disappeared behind those pines and he'd disappeared. A second later we saw him, over on the ladies' side of the wagon (which, in the case of the STAG rides, was actually just an oversize flat bed on a pickup truck), and man. He was snuggling those D cups like they were polished gold and he was a Conquistador. We could see him grinning, even in that darkness, and I'd wager he had his eyes all squinted up, seeing with his fingers. Another second later, and she was kissing on him and shoving her tongue down his throat. To make a long story a little shorter, I'll never forget the look on her face the next morning when she woke up and realized who was next to her on the floor of Petey's barn. She didn't say a word to any of us, she just ran. I don't know where she ran to, but she ran and ran and I guess she must have found a ride back into town somewhere along the road. "Guys," he told us later, "I'll never have a better hayride than that one. Not this season, not next season." We was right. It was the last hayride he lived to take. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:5:57 PM Sunday, October 14, 2007
oh em gee, Me too I have, in the past few weeks, started reading what is best referred to as Mythic Fiction. I found an anthology of short stories my sister left here, and I can't help but glue myself to the pages. It's clued me in on authors like Charles de Lint, with his Native American mythos. I always presumed that fantasy/sci-fi lit was limited to distant worlds or dragons and wizards named Ymynnarrla. Instead, I've found stories detailing a young man and an old British naval officer discovering the body of a mermaid washed up on shore, or (from Charles de Lint) the story of a Native American in modern times being lead by a ghost to "become a warrior." Otherwise, my interests are still focused heavily on music, and I've started back writing on my personal blog. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:7:58 PM Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Because Of Wfw's Return To How It Used To Be, A Post About What I've Been Reading Lately, Even Though It Isn't Much Like What It Used To Be Because I've been reading Science Fiction. I know, right? And yet Orson Scott Card is an amazing writer. It's the bullshit universes and whatnot that people pull out of their asses that don't impress me very much, since I like my fiction grounded in reality, but I have to admit that sci fi can go deeper than that, if it's done right. To reassure my nonexistent readers, I'm reading By-Line: Earnest Hemingway, which provides some stunning insights into Hemingway's absolutely crap career as a journalist. Don't get me wrong, he has some good articles, but he's a novelist through and through. He was a novelist before he wrote novels, and I'm sure that he would not have had a stunning career as a journo. He has some good insights about the war, because he can talk impressively about it. He can talk impressively about it because he was confident that he knew slightly more than anyone else about it. He was confident because he had experience with it. I think that's what drove him to novel writing. His need to embellish his own story, without the restrictions that journalism placed on him. He made a good living off of that, and that was good enough for what it was, but thank god for his ego. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:12:40 AM Sunday, March 25, 2007
The Devil's in the Details Life sure has changed, for me, a lot. I find it interesting, looking back at the posts on here, how the three of us have all changed and gone our separate ways and how - in consequence - this blog has dwindled beyond all hope. And yet, in our differences this blog could be so much more interesting - instead of three cool Protestant dudes talking about the same things and having only slight variances (that have, interestingly enough, become the variables that have in time and age been magnified to bring us all to our different points in life from each other), it could be three very different people in relatively different walks of life and with relatively different world views discussing the same subjects or even saying 'fuck all' and discussing our own ideas in the spirit of word for word but with our contemporary mindsets. Because I think that would be pretty awesome, since we all hate each other and stuff (JK BRAS!), I'm posting here in hopes of getting this old train chugging down the tracks once more - fueled not by coal but by, instead, music and alcohol and our each desire to swing our egos around and prove we're more knowledgeable on various subjects than the other two. Dave, you can post about Tolstoy and all that, and John can go on about Theology or whatever and I can ramble on end about music and photography and all that. I think it could work out quite well. And would Petey want us doing anything else? No. So don't make Petey cry down tears from heaven. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:4:06 PM Saturday, August 05, 2006
A Boy Named Petey If Petey loved anything it was Saturdays. Not because it was the weekend and he didn't have to work, because Petey didn't really work, and not because Cliff's Corner Drug Store got rid of back issues of the comic books that didn't sell by putting them in a box and throwing them into the ally (supposedly for the trash but really for the neighborhood kids to rifle through) because Petey didn't like comic books. He said that if they were "going to invent imaginary superpeople, why don't they ever give them interesting superpowers instead of the obvious superhuman strength and flight and dexterity." He said that he'd rather read a comic that he could relate to, with superpowers like 'that perfect comeback line' or 'nicotine blood' or 'x-ray vision'. When one of us told him that Superman did have x-ray vision he looked at us like we didn't understand anything he was saying. After one of those Saturday conversations, when Larry, a somewhat portly neighborhood kid who always tried to convince us to pilfer Cliff's unwanted comics with him, had left, Petey's cold gaze following him down the driveway and across the street, Petey said, "Guys, I'm sick of this bullshit," and he left. We could tell he wanted to be alone, or he was up to something, so we just sat in the shade and smoked. When Petey came back, he was in full costume, if you could call it costume. He crafted a cape out of his old security blanket and had the old box that Cliff put the comic books over his head for a mask. It didn't have any eyeholes or anything, so Petey was pretty beat up and bloody. "Look Guys," he said, "I'm Saturday Boy." In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:11:07 AM Thursday, July 27, 2006
This Day in History - Years Ago July 27th was always a special day to Petey. It was his girlfriend's birthday one year - presuming you could call Sheila Ham a his girlfriend. They were together for two weeks just for her birthday and then Petey left her. "Guys," he said, as he so often did, "guys, I don't know what to do. I'm not kidding, Ham is more than just her last name. I can't handle it, guys." That was two days after they first hooked up. See, we always knew Petey liked them a little on the big side of heavy-set but Sheila Ham, well, it was more than just her last name. She loved ham. Her birthday cake every year was a big honey roasted ham with ham-and-mayo spread smeared across the top of it. After attending her birthday that year (and consequently breaking up with her a couple of weeks later), July 27th lost a bit of its hold on Petey. Usually on this day, around noon time, his body would remember how violently ill he got from eating that ham-and-mayo-on-ham that turned out to be not-quite-cooked-all-the-way. The day he got out of the hospital, Sheila showed up with a big ham cookie for him and some flowers (that smelled like, strangely enough, roast beef). He dumped her right then and there. He did, however, try to eat the cookie which put him into a fit of diarrhea. That's just how Petey was. He never gave up, he just persisted - if there was something he wanted to do, he was going to do it (by God) and let no man, woman, nor child try to stop him under penalty of death or being puked on. Anyway, one of the reasons Petey so enjoyed July 27th was because it was the day he would always 'smell' summer ending even if it still had a month left to go. "Okay guys," he'd put on that silly headband with the feathers that he got from that Native Awareness Pow Wow and Meet up in South Dakota when he was a kid. "Guys, now you know," he'd always tell the same story, "you know I'm one twenty-fourth Coeur d'Alene Injun-American. My great grandad taught me this medicine when I was just six years old, guys, and it has not failed me yet." And man, he would stick that nose of his out and he'd close his eyes with so much sincerity that you almost believed him. He'd bow his back all out like Iggy Pop and hold his arms out like some kind of tap-dancer. With those feathers sticking up off his head, he'd start prancing around in a mixture of something he must've seen at that Pow Wow and some kind of Riverdance bullshit, and I'll be damned if he didn't look like some kind of mutant rooster trying to find its mutant mate. We'd all just stand back and watch, maybe pull out some booze or pass around a joint and we'd just watch him and he'd go for sometimes hours, around and around, never opening his eyes and always moving his head around like he was looking with his nose. Usually after a couple of hours he'd just stop dead still and toss his head back, looking all the world like that rooster, and he'd open up his mouth and out would come that goddamned annoying noise that he picked up from Dumb and Dumber. After about a minute of that, not a single bit of movement, he'd throw himself back onto the ground and start writhing around in some kind of sacred convulsion (that's what he always called it). We knew not to get too close to him when he was doing this, cos he'd always start kicking and spitting and once or twice he unzipped and whipped out his jimmy and started pissing all over the place. Then we'd hear it and we'd know it was safe (and expected) for us to walk over there. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," he'd count in quick mumbles and then when he reached a random number he'd stop and he'd look up. It was almost pathetic, him down there on the ground looking up at us with his eyes all wide and tears welling up in them and his arms all covered in goosebumps. "Alright guys," he'd say, "I got it. I got it, guys. It's fifteen more days of summer, it's an early fall this year guys." Then he'd jump right up, he'd take off that headband go put his shirt back on and grab a beer and just act like the whole thing never happened. Sometimes, when July 27th would roll around, you'd almost think that he thought it was the first time he'd ever done it. He'd act like he had to tell us every little detail again and again with such earnest concern for our understanding in his eyes that you just had to wonder if maybe, somehow, he really was possessed by Chief Igmumpa the Summer Sniffer like he claimed to be. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:36 PM Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Boobies; Boobies For Democracy Now, what I'm about to say might make some of the people that read this blog (what? Yes people read this blog) be completely disgusted with me but - and I can't stress this enough - I need them to understand that it is for the greater good of America and its friends and Allies. I finally dished out twelve dollars for a one month's subscription to perhaps the greatest almost-pornographic website ever. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a matter of Freedom. You can't go against Freedom, can you? In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:11:24 AM Thursday, April 20, 2006
Memories of Who Now? Hello, little Timmy Readerson. What's that you say? You miss Petey? Why of course you do; we all miss Petey a whole lot. Oh, you mean you want to hear more stories of Petey! Well don't you worry, little Timmy, because Petey will be back as strongly as ever in his own way, or not, in his own way. Petey wasn't exactly a rebel, but he liked to do things his own way and on his own time, and I guess some of that style rubbed off onto us. So relax, Tim, crack a beer and put your feet up and if you really get to missing Petey you can go streaking, seek out and correct an injustice in society, build stuff out of junk, or maybe break out the hard liquor. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:7:05 PM Saturday, April 15, 2006
The Spring Revolution It's that time of year, and today feels it more than any other so far. It's like spring has suddenly kicked in completely - despite all of the rain we've had, the winter chill just wasn't knocked off like it finally was today. It was a cool, breezy day, partly cloudy (and just cloudy enough) and - my God! As I write now, the clouds have just burst and a beautiful spring shower is falling outside my open window and the sweet smell is brought in by the cool breeze. Kaizers Orchestra is feeling out the room from the stereo on my dresser, and I've just had a simply gorgeous meal of cup ramen (with shrimp!) and a Dr. Pepper. I'm recalled to the spring of previous years, where the seasonal gloom is washed from my mind and everything becomes alive again - especially, I might add, the women. Now, there are a few things that we the People take seriously here - tobacco, alcohol, music, and women. John and Dave are all 'Christian' or something, but anyway. The point is, this is the perfect time of year to transition from the Vodka to the Vadj. The cold of winter, the depressed darkness has been brushed away and now we turn to the Beauty With Two Legs - the glorious, the amazing, the Woman. Problem is, around here..they're mostly Mormons or married. It's not as though that's going to stop me, of course. note: this does not mean that i'm saying it's okay to not drink vodka. you better keep swilling it, just make sure your crutch is now sex and not sauce. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:6:42 PM Thursday, April 13, 2006
In the word for word spirit of mixing beer and wine, beating up old ladies, long periods of silence, and mintyfresh gum, I'd like to impart to our faithful readership some generic advice. Since time began, mix CDs have been a way for couples to express their thoughts on the current relationship through the beauty of song. While a perfectly mixed mix CD, usually including tracks from Dave Matthew's Band, the Beatles, Death Cab for Cutie, and anything from the Garden State soundtrack, will earn an "Oh my god, he really gets me!", an improperly mixed mix CD could go so far as to end in relationship ruin. What is the ultimate in the mix CD cockup? Classic rock. Take Led Zeppelin. While you yourself may enjoy 'getting the Led out', the chances that your woman finds the same joy in crazy-intense guitar licks and lyrics about getting laid are slim. While she may pretend to truly appreciate classic rock, this is actually a facade, which brings me to my next point. Classic rock of any kind is right out. This is actually my original point. Those of the female persuasion simply do not like or understand classic rock. If they say that they do, they are liars. "What about the Beatles?" you ask. "They're classic rock, and you included them on your list of ideal bands there at the beginning." Well, yes I did, poindexter, but shut up and listen to what I'm trying to say here. Songs like "Hotel California", "Flat Bottomed Girs", and "Dream On" were written by men, and for men, and although women like to listen to them and talk about them, and groove to them, they simply don't relate to them, as masculine as they may try to be. This goes the other way as well, so maybe don't put any Enya on there or she might stage a 'coming out of the closet' party for you. In conclusion, die, capitalist pigs, die. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:4:04 PM Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Hey, did you know? You're fucked up. I did not realise that people could be so naïve. Honestly, did you know most people do not swear? I was not aware. Allow me to clarify something: I cannot stand idiots. When people hop onto the internet and begin spewing complete shit, I have to wonder what they're hoping to accomplish. Do they think that simply trying to seem intelligent their words are going to be correct? Do they think that taking a tone, using certain words, trying to seem a certain way, do they think that it will somehow boost their believability? I'm so weary of people on the internet trying to seem like they're better than they are, trying to seem superior, intelligent, witty, snarky, cool, cute, whatever. It's so entirely pointless. I hold not a pretense of my own self. I recognise my downfalls, I admit when I am not learned on a certain subject, and I - no matter what - will not bullshit my way through the internet. Who the fuck is so naïve to believe that most people do not swear? Fuck sake. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:05 PM Sunday, April 09, 2006
SWING THE HAMMER When we were kids, my uncle Trevor had this fantastic swimming pool. It had a deep end and shallow end and everything. It didn't have any lamps, though, so sometimes if we wanted to swim at night he'd toss some waterproof flashlights over into it so we could see. Petey loved that pool, when we were kids. 'Hey guys, I'm Superman!' - and he'd say it really fast before he'd land in the water. I didn't like getting water up my nose, so I mostly stayed in the shallows. It was a fantastic swimming pool. All of our friends would come over to Uncle Trevor's and it always made me feel great because even though it was my uncle's, it was kind of like it was mine too, because I was family. Sometimes kids would say 'Hey, hey, can you take us swimming at your uncle's?' and I would just be like 'Yeah, okay.' One year, three weeks before my fifteenth birthday, Uncle Trevor passed away. His fantastic pool got really dirty and no one of us knew how to clean it. Eventually, they tore down his house and covered the pool over with big heavy boards. None of the kids wanted to come over anymore - but that was all-right, we were all doing other things then. A year before the crash, Petey came over and he was really excited. 'Guys, guys!' he almost choked on his own spit, 'Michelle's got a pool!' We three just kind of looked at him. 'Guys, come on! You can smoke later! They just filled it up!' I wasn't too keen on swimming, but I figured I'd check it out anyway. So, we all got into John's Fiat and cruised over to Michelle's house. Sure enough, her parents had bought a fairly large above-the-ground swimming pool. Michelle was one of the for-sure kids back in the Uncle Trevor days. If there was one person in the pool, Michelle was in there too. We didn't mind her, she was a good kid. Petey didn't waste a second jumping out of the car. He took off toward toward the house, the torn leg of his jeans flapping in the wind. The rest of us took our time and walked up across the yard. Michelle came out from around the back and met Petey. We couldn't hear what was being said, but Petey all the sudden started jumping and waving his arms around. We got up to them in time to hear, 'Sorry, Petey, Eric doesn't like you.' When he turned around, we thought he'd be pissed off but he was just laughing. Nobody said nothing on the way back to the car, but he just kept on laughing. "Guys, can't you see it?" he said when we packed in, "can't you just see her and Eric, all by themselves, splashing around in her little pool?" Sure enough, we rode back by there the next day and it was just Michelle and Eric standing there in the water. They looked pretty bored. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:19 PM Saturday, February 18, 2006
I think it's fair to say that we, all of us, have a certain denial about Petey's passing. I know I do. Sometimes I'll see someone in a Hawaiian shirt and I think 'Petey?' But I know it's not, and I know deep down that he ain't coming back. Petey was too straight-forward for coming back. He always said that he figured death was like a doorway to a world of naked ladies and dinosaurs. There was no way he'd leave that behind. That was always Petey's dream world, whether it was the afterlife or where he'd go when he finished building his spaceship. He started building his spaceship out of old rusted parts from Jane Parson's junk-yard. Some weeks he'd take us out there every night to help him gather up bits and pieces he needed. He talked about it like he knew what he was doing. "Guys, I need sixteen sparkplugs," he'd say. "No, wait," and he'd check his list, "yeah. Sixteen, guys." In the end, no matter how many we found, he'd always have to get them himself because ours were never exactly what he was looking for. One night, he needed three radiators and we thought he meant car radiators. So we dug out a few of them so he could pick through them and he just looked at us like we were crazy and went over to where all of the old household stuff was dumped and dug around until he found a radiator. We didn't say a word, just started digging around trying to find a couple more. After a few minutes we had enough and he seemed happy with the ones we'd found. I think that was because he knew that he wasn't going to find anymore. When we were dragging them off, Jane Parson came out shining around that big old spotlight of hers and we would've took off running but it's hard to run with these radiators and Petey said his spaceship wouldn't be able to take off without those exact ones. So we just stood there like a bunch of idiots and she kept shining the spotlight right in our eyes until she got up to us. We couldn't see her face but she was laughing and handed Petey a paper bag and told him good luck and god bless with the spaceship. We were still shook up on the way back to the barn, but we weren't in trouble so that was okay. The bag was full of some old screws Petey said he'd asked her to collect for him, they had to be just the right size. He never did finish that spaceship, it's still out there in the barn and it would be rusting if it wasn't already so rusted up. I hope Petey was right about heaven, even though I'm not too fond of dinosaurs. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:3:15 PM
If there was one really true thing you could say about Petey, it was that he was always active. His mind was constantly racing with new and exciting things to do and fantasies to fulfill. Most of them were rubbish, like the one where he wanted us all to dress like drag queens and go christmas caroling in the late spring. That wasn't the worst one, but it gives you an idea of how Petey's mind worked, not that I presume to truly comprehend what went on in his head. He liked to get us all in on these ventures of his; he said he thought them up as a group activity and he'd have to rethink them if we didn't go along with it and inspiration like this didn't come often. Usually the rest of us would decline and awkwardly avoid his earnest, hopeful gaze. None of us wanted to put on a dress and sing "The First Noel" and be drowned out by Petey's shrill soprano voice. At the same time, we enjoyed the light in his eyes as he explained every detail to us and the exaggerated gesturing he used. It made us proud to be his friend and it killed us that we didn't always have the balls to go through with it. That being said, it was a shock the day he announced calmly that he was going to streak down main street and we were not invited. He wasn't saying it to lord it over us. There was no animosity in his tone whatsoever. This one was for him. We were all sitting in Old Man Rothschild's kitchen when he made the announcement. We hated Old Man Rothschild with every fibre of our being due to his stealing fifteen of our frisbees when they came into his yard back seven or eight years ago. That was before we met Petey and our lives changed for ever. We never touched a frisbee again once Petey was around, but we still hated Old Man Rothschild. Now he had cancer though, and was confined to his bed upstairs, and since he had air conditioning and his buxom niece came by with cookies every week, we figured it would be a good way to even the score. This, by the way, was Petey's idea, and one that we all easily consented to. "I'm doing it alone," he said when he was finished with the cookies, and we were kind of shocked and no one said anything for awhile. "Right now?" someone asked. "Yeah." And he slowly got up and took off his shirt and pants, put his underwear over his head, and walked out of the room. We all felt guilty for some reason. It was the closest we'd ever come to feeling like we betrayed Petey, but we all knew that if any of us had made a single move to follow him he wouldn't have gone through with it. This was something he did for himself, and when he got back, panting and sweaty and still wearing his underwear on his head, partially covering a wide grin, none of us spoke to him and we never spoke of it again. I wish we could say that after that we always went along with Petey no matter what, but everything stayed the same. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:2:31 PM Friday, January 20, 2006
One Goth Town The most unremarkable thing about our Town was the diversity in the young people. There were three kinds of kids - those that wore cowboy boots, those that were girls, and a Goth. I remember the first time I saw him like it was yesterday, and it might have been yesterday some six years ago now. I was on my way down to the grocer to pick up some bread because I wanted a sandwich. Petey said he'd make me one if I brought him some bread - and Petey could make one mean sandwich. I remember how he used to put the mayo on the bottom slice and the mustard on the top slice, and he always said "Remember Steve, you have to put the mustard on the bottom slice and the mayo on the top slice." I was never sure if he did know the difference between top or bottom or the difference between mayo and mustard. Anyway, I was on my way to the store and - and I remember this like yesterday - I heard someone (I think it was a man, maybe it was my dad) yelling from a truck stopped at the red light on the other side of the street. "Hey!" with husky rage, "Hey you faggot!" I thought at first the man was yelling at me but I realised that across the street there was a kid walking really slow and looking down at the ground. His skin was like ivory - it was quite beautiful, glaring in the sunlight, but it almost blinded me. I remember how his hair looked dyed and was he wearing eye make up? I dove into the store nearest me (I remember it was the hardware store I think) and watched everything unfold. The man (who wasn't my dad, afterall) jumped out of the truck and commenced to laying on a beating something awful. After that day there were only two kinds of people in our Town. When I got home and told Petey about it he laughed but I think he was choking back tears. That was how Petey handled things - like a man, ha ha ha, but he had a sensitive spot on his heart. The doctors didn't think he'd live past 5, but he fooled them. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:5:55 PM Saturday, October 01, 2005
Memories of Petey. Everything has changed. We like to talk about the memories and fun, but Petey would've liked us to remember his death, too. He would've liked us to remember everything. In that spirit, here goes. If there was one mental image I'd associate with the events surrounding Petey's death, it would be the newspaper headlines. LOCAL BOY KILLED IN HIGHWAY MISHAP and that picture underneath an epitaph of it's own. Surrounding our town was all pretty much blank prairie, but there was one spot on I-43 near the river that there was a bunch of trees, and that's where it happened. You could see the trees in the photograph in the paper, so foreign, like it wasn't here, like it didn't happen at all. But the carcase of Uncle Jimmy's familiar blue chore truck in a crumpled heap said it did happen. It happened alright, so fast that they say there wasn't any pain but when Steve got to that part of the article reading the paper out loud in Old Ben's living room he stopped for a minute to let us soak in the irony. The goddamn irony. So There wasn't any pain, no, just one big fuck-gaping wound in all of our lives. Petey wasn't the medicine any more. It was then that we realized he'd become the antidote. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:29 PM Sunday, September 18, 2005
For Petey If there's one thing Petey was known for around town, it was his gaming abilities. He was always a big fan of Nintendo and Atari, but not in that kitschy retro way. He holds the high score record on many of the old cartridges that were divided up among his friends. Truly, Petey was one of a kind. It is for Petey that I post this article on the Nintendo Revolution. You will not be forgotten, and neither will your skills, Petey. I only wish you could be here when the Revolution is released, so you can show us all how to work it l337 like. So, I just watched the video for the Nintendo Revolution controller. Apparently, there's a bit of a schism between people that think it looks lame and people that think it looks like the new sliced bread. Personally, I'm giddy as a schoolboy. Since the release of the Gamecube, Nintendo has been heading away from the limelight of video-game-addiction-forerunner-greatest-console-on-earth-for-all-uses-sit-for-hours-playing-a-game and into its own unique niche market. Sure, there are plenty of single player games for the GC, but its true field is in the realm of same-room, bring your friends over and start up a game multiplayer. Even games without overt multiplayer still carried a sense of friendship interaction, like Animal Crossing's shared world and interactivity. Now, with the playful design of their new remote, it further pushes it away from the concept of a console and toward what Nintendo once stood for: innovation, change, and new ways to have fun. It's no longer just about better graphics, it's not just about more inovative AI..it's about something new, something revolutionary. As a gamer, the way gaming has exploded into mainstream popculture was somewhat unnerving for me. It annoys me to see gaming consoles being thrown around like they're just another tool for the common masses. It's no longer geeky to game, it's no longer about skill and knowing how to do something most kids don't know how to do. Gaming has, for a large part, become about playing either online or against your friends. It's about quick kills and quick races to the finish line while you wait for your friend to open up the new hip hop album of the week. There emerged from the explosion this new breed of frat boy. There emerged from the explosion this new breed of rapper that has his face on the latest fighting game. It all became so mixed together that there was neither head nor tails. The fact is, sex-heavy, violence-heavy gaming from the PC world met with the popular appeal of the console and it turned out bad. When I want grit, when I want dirty, I play PC games in my computer room alone, just me and my mouse. The living room TV set is not the place for that kind of gaming - yet that's all it has become. Now however, with Nintendo evolving its niche, the old clean feeling of playing fun games with your mates is returning. It took me at least a year after the Gamecube came out to finally play with one, and I felt so refreshed and happy with it I could barely contain myself. I see the stuff coming out of Nintendo these days, and I see crisp, clean, happy fun. I see what belongs in the living room. I see what you come in and play around with before you go back out and ride your bike to the swingset. And I love it. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:8:37 PM Saturday, September 17, 2005
Memories of Petey. If only you were here. You wouldn't really say Petey had a trademark, but if you were to say that he did, it would probably be that hat he always wore. It was tough to say what kind of a hat it was. When you first set eyes on it you'd say it was a cowboy hat, but then you'd probably take it back, and much later even laugh at your naive first impression. You see, the hat was big alright, and it sure had a wide brim, but that's where the similarities ended. The right side of the brim stuck up, tight to the cap like an outback hat. And since the brim was so wide around, in order to make the one side stick up like that, the cap had to be a good foot tall like a ten-gallon hat. Petey made a lot of "special modifications" to that hat of his. I remember after he first got it he ran right up to his room in his foster parent's barn and glued little tassles all around it like on a sombrero and that night after the four of us finished a bottle of gin in Old Man Garnum's west field he jumped on a cow and screamed, "I'm a fucking mexican! Look at me!" We had to coax him down with cigarettes before Old Man Garnum came out with his legendary shotgun. Petey also liked putting stickers on it, really any stickers that he found he'd slap on that hat, especially bumper stickers. Horn not working, watch for finger was his favorite, and that went on the front. The hat became a big problem later on when the four of us went out in the pickup truck, because he needed so much head space sitting in the cab. He'd always have a window seat, but because he never drove he sat on the far right, and the left side of the hat, the brim side, would stick out towards the rest of us and we'd all have to lean way over. I couldn't even count the number of times we almost killed ourselves on account of that goddamn hat. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:8:38 PM Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Memories of Petey. The hurt will never dissappear Petey loved the river all right. If there was one thing Petey could never do without it was that damned river. He swore it talked to him and on very special occasions he'd let us in on his secrets. We'd sit by the bank, each of us with our own musings, and then suddenly Petey would say, "Guys, the river says that it's our teacher. Everything about the river is a lesson to be learned." That was Petey all over. I remember one special time when all four of us were together. It was a sunday afternoon and Petey was smashed out of his skull. So we went for a walk to see if we could sober him up a little, and we ended up down by that river. "The river's talking, guys," he slurred. "Guys, let me say something for a minute, guys." and we all had to stop and give him our full attention before he'd tell us. Then he leaned in close and we could all smell the liquor awfully strongly on his breath and he said, "That damn river's been lying to us. It's nothing but a whore." And he looked suspiciously back at the river and we never exptected it when he jumped right over the bank and into the river and started punching it. "You whore!" he shouted, over and over. We watched him for awhile, from the bank, and let him tire himself out, then he fell over and we had to jump in and pull him sputtering river water onto the bank. "That river's a whore." he said as soon as he could talk. "And it tried to kill me." After that Petey never went down to the river much, but sometimes late at night when he was really drunk we could hear him screaming curses at it and we got up and pulled him back to the house so he wouldn't drown himself. The river sure didn't seem to care. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:9:13 PM Friday, September 02, 2005
Memories of Petey My very most fond memory of Petey came only two months before the accident. We were all four of us walking down Mainstreet on our way to pick up some milk for Margarette (her husband had just gone away and left her with the kids). Petey always liked helping people - and that's what I'll remember most: his goodwill and honest spirit - and it was he what set us up to buy milk for Margarette. As we were going along, we noticed there were some teenaged boys harrassing a younger boy and his teenaged sister. Petey, seeing this, became vexed and he flushed and his nostrils flared a little. 'Petey, it's not our business,' we warned. 'It's our business because it's our town, and what if it was you, and what if they decide that next time it will be?' Petey had tears welling up in his eyes as he often did when he became righteously indignant. So, in Petey fashion, he stormed right over there and told the teenagers to leave the girl and her brother alone. Sure, they punched him. Sure, they kicked him while he was down. But it was the way he stood right back up every time they knocked him down and never once asked us to help him that stands out most in my mind. He was so strong, and so brave. Sure, they beat the shit out of him, but he did what he felt was right. That's what it meant to be Petey. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:48 PM
Memories of Petey. We miss you, brother. It was fall, just like now, which I guess is part of why this memory came back so strongly and vividly. We weren't sure what to do, but we wanted to go someplace so we all piled into Steve's old pickup and ended up out at the cemetary on the outskirts of town. It was a little chilly but Petey jacked a half bottle of rum from who knows where and we all kept warm drinking and talking, looking at the stars. I don't remember what we talked about much, only I remember something Petey said that always stayed with me. I don't remember the exact words he used, because that bottle of rum was almost gone, but the sentiment he expressed I'll always remember, as clear as those stars that night. "This is the beginning, guys," he said. "This is the starting line right here. Sure we've been sprinting and running laps for awhile, warming up, but this is the race about to start. From here on out it's the real deal." It was something like that, and then he got up and started running around the tombstones until he tripped on a cross headstone and fell over, laughing. Then we all laughed with him and started running around and jumping over headstones like they were hurdles, ripping off our clothes and screaming, "I'm winning! I'm winning!" Still, knowing Petey, it wasn't just about getting wasted and making a lot of noise, his words were meant to show a valuable lesson of life and obtaining our own rites of passage, and his wisdom lives on in the rest of our lives and these words. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:1:55 AM Thursday, September 01, 2005
you bet. This is the story of four Young Men. They began their blogging lives between the ages of 14 and 18. Then one day, the youngest of them passed away at the age of 16. Petey will forever be missed. John, Dave, and I never recovered from that loss. We just haven't posted the same since Petey passed away. It put such a damper on our blogging. Sometimes, I still see his smiling face, urging us to blog. 'Go, post something interesting!' he would say. 'Alright, Petey!' and we would post. Oh! how we would post. And for a time, things were good. For a time, things were very good. We had a following, even. As time went on, much of the followers moved on to college and being cool and things like that. Then came the accident that forever changed word for word - Petey had just finally recieved his learner's permit to drive, and was going down I-43 with his Uncle Jimmy. An apathetic trucker crushed little Petey's car, killing both him and his Uncle Jimmy instantly. word for word would never be the same. We still have not recovered. Damn it, why did you have to snuff it, Petey? In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:12:05 AM Monday, August 01, 2005
WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER GIVES UP CIGARETTES In a move that is sure to shake the very foundations of many organisations, writer and photographer Steven Sivley (also known as Marcus Conrad) has said today that it he has, in fact, stopped smoking cigarettes. 'After [finishing the last pack], I decided not to buy anymore [cigarettes].' When asked why, Sivley replied, '[cigarettes] have completely wrecked my sense of smell and taste, and I'm tired of being unable to exercise [like non-smokers]. I'm also tired of my hands always smelling [like cigarette smoke.' He later added, however, that he was planning on buying 'probably another [tobacco] pipe, for occasional smoking when I am [out] in the country and what have you.' In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:11:56 AM Sunday, July 17, 2005
I'll Take Edward Norton for Four-Hundred Please, Alex "He was in this 1998 documentary-style film on neo-nazis in America." "American History X." "No." "I'm sorry... what is American History X?" "Correct." "It's a great movie, Alex, you should check it out. It has this great power to impress it's moods on you, like anger, fear, repulsion, meloncholy. It's got all of the great dialogue style that Norton does in Fight Club and 25th Hour with his ranting and anguish, but it's so much darker and twisted and it isn't funny. Edward Norton plays an amazing role as an ex-neo-nazi trying to get his little brother out of the lifestyle that destroyed his own life. Because hate kills, Alex, it really does. It kills all of us." "Return to your podium please, David." "I know you need a hug, Alex." And so as not to break the chain here, and invoke 13 years of bad luck, there's a lot of smoking in that movie and they smoke almost constantly in a relaxed, laid-back nazi way. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:9:44 AM Saturday, July 02, 2005
Teat for Teat So, before making this lovely new scheme (and totally early-90's retro it is), John and yours truly were discussing how Coldplay albums have always fed our creativity and postings at wfw and how..well, here: steven: it's coldplay man steven: we feed on it john: our creative semen flows alongside that of christof martini steven: chris martin is the teat at which we suckle steven: indeed. john: and what a teat it is! steven: indeed! john: such glistening, gleaming flesh! Needless to say, we're now planning on being BIA (back in action, baby). And with 50% less cheese than this post, in the future. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:5:43 PM Wednesday, June 29, 2005
We Should Call this Smoke for Smoke I'm at the point now where the nicotine actually affects me, and even more so the lack thereof. Last Saturday I was wondering why I was so irritable, and then I remembered, lo! I hadn't had a drag in some 24 hours. Yesterday my friend at work was saying we should probably cut down, and today my boss said we smoked way too much. I think he might be right now. Tomorrow, just one, not counting the morning cigarette. Well, I'll forgo my drive home cigarette. No, but... but I'll not have one right now! Puff, puff, puff. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:08 PM Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Too Much Lungicide I've been smoking entirely too many cigarettes. I was doing fine until I got here to New York, where my dad and mom are constantly smoking and I'm spending long, bored nights online where it's easy to unthinkingly reach over and pick up a cigarette. I'm smoking half, sometimes 15 cigarettes a day. Today was a little better, not as many, and tomorrow will be less. I'm tired of tasting and smelling smoke, and tasting like and smelling like smoke. Tobacco is great and all, but when I don't feel the nicotine, I know I need to cut back. So, I'm on holiday right now. This means I won't have much to post on wfw for until I'm back doing wfw-esque stuff. However, I do have something to say: I lost all of my mp3s, all of my dirty pictures and videos, and a lot of other stuff stored under 'My Documents' when I had to use a programme to change my password from outside windows. The website where I got the programme said 'you will not be able to access your files unless you remember your password.' This, I thought, meant that if I did remember my password eventually, I could access the files again. It did not. They are lost. Weep with me. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:12:52 AM Thursday, June 02, 2005
Smokes vs. Women: The Final Conflict I've taken up smoking on a semi-regular basis now. This is due in part to the break-up, several weeks ago, of someone I work with and his just-getting-serious girlfriend. This rendering of his soul in twain left him with little or no optimism, and he started smoking again. When he was thirteen he started smoking in school, and he got up to half a pack a day, but then he quit. The break-up started it all again. So over our morning smoke he says, "Dave, girls are nothing but trouble," and I can't help but agree, since he's supplying the cigarettes. But once thought over, the positives of nicotine do tend to outweigh the positives of relationships. Faithfulness, dependability, comfort, recreation, all of these things make up a successful relationship, and when one or more goes awry, the relationship is then what is known as "on the rocks." Never on the rocks is such a relationship with nicotine. So folks, we have a new grand champeen. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:45 PM Sunday, May 29, 2005
Long long ago, in China I'm told.. It's been so long since I've posted here that I actually could not remember my user name and password for this blog. Once remembered, I logged right in to come and write something up. In The Days of Lore, this blog was a mighty power with sword flashing and banner caught high in the Spring breeze. Mighty and fresh of heart was he, his face showed no sign of worry and the wrinkles of laughter were already marked on his young face. The blood of his foes - old ladies, mostly - was the stain of his iniquity, but his heart was true and the light thereof made blind the amassing lady-folk to his darkness. In deed, he was both at once light and dark and this was what made him such a valiant warrior. It was because of his bravery, his truth, his heart that he went on no matter the rebuke - but it was his darkness that might ultimately have lost him that most important thing of all - a readership. In time, but, his arms no longer moved so swiftly and his feet did not carry him so far. Grey upon a head once graced with Raven-black hair was showing beneath an helm rusted with a thousand years. These arms, these legs that did not move him and did not swing his righteous sword soon became more weak and more feeble until at last he could not bear himself up against his foes. First one, then another, then yet another blade pierced his dimly glowing heart and he was made to give up the ghost. So legend has it of those days, but there is among you now a cult who does not believe this tale. They believe the brave Warrior known as W. F. Word will rise again when his legs find once again their strength and his arms are once again filled with the senew of righteousness. What say you, fuckers? Shall we give this old blog a jumpstart and refresh the memories of our fanbase on just how great we really are? In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:9:31 AM Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Two kittens. Answer to John and Steve. If found please call 477-5622.  (John)  (Steve) LARGE REWARD [Dave] Time:3:13 PM Tuesday, February 01, 2005
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Alright, so I saw Electra because, let's face it, Jennifer Garner is friggin hot, especially as a ninja. The incredible thing is that she is so ill-suited for the role that it's very nearly humorous. She's not a particularily tough chick, or sassy, and she swears like she was only just recently taught these words. They stand completely on their own. "Take the secret passageway," says Useless Friend. "But... what about you?" she asks, and then, presumably realzing that Useless Friend is sacrificing his useless yet lovable life for their safe escape, she lets out a completely adorable, barely audible "shit". Later, or perhaps earlier, I forget, when she realizes exactly what she's up against, she looks out over a large area of water in deep contemplation, and wraps the moment up with a somewhat awkward "goddamn". Now that everything is over, and I have time to reflect on the plot, I find myself realizing that there was almost no plot. During the movie, though, there's no time to think about that, with kicks and punches and spinning slashy ninja moves wherewithal, and jennifer right in the middle of it, doing her ninja thing. In conclusion, watch this movie. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:10:11 PM Saturday, January 29, 2005
R.I.P. John Dyck (198something ~ 2005)
I had a dream that John left us. I think I did, anyway. It's very vague, and I only remembered it when I came to wfw this morning. I reckon he was tired of wfw, so he quit. I remember thinking, I should need to erase his name off the header picture, and I think Dave and I was looking for another person to post here in his stead. He didn't die or anything, he just quit like a soddy bastard that he is. So, there you have it. Oh, and John passed away in his sleep last night. Apparently a drug overdose. Who'd have thought it, eh? John was a druggie. I'm guessing you shouldn't expect to hear from Dave if you only know him online, and don't expect him to be posting here. He's pretty broken up. I'd like to say to certain adults who, for some reason, have chanced upon this blog and had a bad taste in their mouth: It was you who drove him to this end. It was your judgement, your 'righteous' anger that fucked him up. I hope you feel the pain in your heart as if it were burning in hell. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:47 PM Sunday, January 23, 2005
Happy 2nd Birthday, WFW!
And many happy returns. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:5:52 PM Saturday, January 22, 2005
TV is for Losers
So, I now only watch one hour of TV every day. How cool is that? I've decided that television is the sap of the human mind. Since I've stopped, I've been writing poetry like crazy, and my imaginative juices are really flowing. I stil watch movies, they don't count as the hour - but I still haven't watch one since we stopped watching TV. I usually reserve my hour for Simpsons and Futurama at night. I'm not really sure why I'm telling you this. Maybe it's because I touch myself at night. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:7:07 PM Saturday, January 15, 2005
This is a monologue from 25th Hour, starring Edward Norton. I thought it was good.
Fuck me? Fuck you! Fuck you and this whole city and everyone in it. Fuck the panhandlers, grubbing for money, and smiling at me behind my back. Fuck the squeegee men dirtying up the clean windshield of my car. Get a fucking job! Fuck the Sikhs and the Pakistanis bombing down the avenues in decrepit cabs, curry steaming out their pores, stinking up my day. Terrorists in fucking training. SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! Fuck the Chelsea boys with their waxed chests and pumped up biceps. Going down on each other in my parks and on my piers, jingling their dicks on my Channel 35. Fuck the Korean grocers with their pyramids of overpriced fruit and their tulips and roses wrapped in plastic. Ten years in the country, still no speaky English? Fuck the Russians in Brighton Beach. Mobster thugs sitting in cafés, sipping tea in little glasses, sugar cubes between their teeth. Wheelin' and dealin' and schemin'. Go back where you fucking came from! Fuck the black-hatted Hasidim, strolling up and down 47th street in their dirty gabardine with their dandruff. Selling South African apartheid diamonds! Fuck the Wall Street brokers. Self-styled masters of the universe. Michael Douglas, Gordon Gecko wannabe mother fuckers, figuring out new ways to rob hard working people blind. Send those Enron assholes to jail for FUCKING LIFE! You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break! Tyco! Worldcom! Fuck the Puerto Ricans. 20 to a car, swelling up the welfare rolls, worst fuckin' parade in the city. And don't even get me started on the Dom-in-i-cans, 'cause they make the Puerto Ricans look good. Fuck the Bensonhurst Italians with their palmaded hair, their nylon warm-up suits, their St. Anthony medallions, swinging their, Jason Giambi, Louisville slugger, baseball bats, trying to audition for the Sopranos. Fuck the Upper East Side wives with their Hermes scarves and their fifty-dollar Balducci artichokes. Overfed faces getting pulled and lifted and stretched, all taut and shiny. You're not fooling anybody, sweetheart! Fuck the uptown brothers. They never pass the ball, they don't want to play defense, they take fives steps on every lay-up to the hoop. And then they want to turn around and blame everything on the white man. Slavery ended one hundred and thirty seven years ago. Move the fuck on! Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust! Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy! A day on the cross, a weekend in hell, and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity! Try seven years in fuckin' Otisville, J! Fuck Osama Bin Laden, Al Qaeda, and backward-ass, cave-dwelling, fundamentalist assholes everywhere. On the names of innocent thousands murdered, I pray you spend the rest of eternity with your seventy-two whores roasting in a jet-fueled fire in hell. You towel headed camel jockeys can kiss my royal Irish ass! Fuck Jacob Elinski, whining, malcontent. Fuck Francis Xavier Slaughtery, my best friend, judging me while he stares at my girlfriend's ass. Fuck Naturelle Rivera, I gave her my trust and she stabbed me in the back, sold me up the river, fuckin' bitch. Fuck my father, with his endless greed, standing behind that bar, sipping on club soda, selling whiskey to firemen, and cheering the Bronx Bombers. Fuck this whole city and everyone in it. From the rowhouses in Astoria to the Penthouses on Park Avenue. From the projects in the Bronx to the lofts in Soho. From the tenaments in Alphabet City to the brownstones in park to the split-levels on Staten Island. Let an earthquake crumble it. Let the fires rage, let it burn to fuckin ash, and let the waters rise and submerge this whole rat infested place. No... no, Fuck you, Montgomery Brogan. You had it all and you threw it away, you dumb fuck! In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:10:55 PM Thursday, January 13, 2005
A Day in the Life
- Woke up at seven-thirty. - Set the table and ate breakfast with the family. - Called the boss to see if he was working; he was. - Tried and failed to start the car, and decided to stay home. - Worked on a paper. - Had a snack of cinniamon toast at quarter to eleven. - Read a couple of F. Scott Fitzgerald's nevelettes. - Lunched. - Tried the car again, and it worked, except for the fan. - Drove to the store and got a couple of cigars. - Drove home and smoked and worried about that fan. - Read a couple of chapters in a book on Hemingway - Checked e-mail etc. - Tried car again, now the fan worked. - Yess. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:4:45 PM Friday, December 17, 2004
My Mom found my Porn
It's the talk, phone-call, e-mail, or written letter every son fears. When I got hitched and moved out and turned Nineteen, I guessed it was a given that those days of fear were over. No longer was I spending countless hours trying to think of a good and convincing excuse for why there was pornography in the history, should my hours of cleansing the hard drive fail. Instead, my days were unbridled joy, filled with countless images of only the best Japanese soft-core and sometimes hard-core AV Idols. Soon, I had a magnificent collection, perfectly catalogued and hidden away in the private files of my own computer, files which my mother could never access. Then, I forgot to lock them. I left them open. 'Her powers are weak,' thought I, 'she'll never know how to browse to this corner of the hard drive anyway.' Kim and I were staying with my parents for a short time while in transition, and I became lazy. I took privacy for granted. When I moved out, I was flying, so I had to leave my computer behind. 'Lock your files before you leave,' thought I, 'she'll never find them.' But did I? No. I goddamn forgot. And so, here is that e-mail that every male over ten fears. This is real, and I didn't change names or anything. She actually addressed it to Son and signed it Mom. I swear to god. Well I found the pics of my flowerbeds. They were imbedding within your "oriental" pornography along with the man having anal sex with a lady. I have to admit I was sorely disappointed. I always thought of you as a young man with a lot of integrity and never dreamed you would even LOOK AT, much less save and collect such filth.What happened to all the morals and values you had a year ago? Seems you are taking a road that leads to nowhere. I love you, Mom
In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:10:26 PM Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Word for Word's Holiday Special:
Now for a limited time only, accepting of racial minority groups. God bless us, every one. (Some restrictions apply. Offer limited to Lithuanians, Australians, and some Colombians. Not eligible for Blacks, Hispanics, Jews, Mexicans, or Asians.) In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:11:41 AM Monday, December 13, 2004
Merry Christmas, everyone.
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:1:59 PM Friday, November 26, 2004
From the Mail Satchel.
Billy, age 10, writes from Pueblo Colorado: Dear Word for Word, I read your blogs a lot and I really like you. I was wondering, are you all related? No Billy, only John and Dave are related. We aren't even sure if Steve is alive any more! Say, have you ever been to sea, Billy? In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:4:50 PM Thursday, November 25, 2004
Next on WFW: Are PEZ dispensers really the best Christmas gift?
Stay tuned. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:5:39 PM Sunday, October 24, 2004
I wasn't actually going to post this, but then I decided that it was time to put up something.
On the Evils of Television Steve: but yeah, i indulge in simple-folk entertainment at times. Dave: absolutely Dave: nothing gets you better into the mind and hearts of the peasants Dave: speaking of which Steve: indeed Dave: is it just me, or are we all sick of the fucking trading spaces and trading spouses and pimping ur pad and pimping ur ride Steve: lol Dave: and all that shit Steve: yes Steve: and monster garage Dave: yes Dave: yes! Steve: there is one show i'd like to see, though Steve: it's about people that take old aeroplanes Steve: and make furniture and stuff out of them Dave: see, that's cool Steve: which sounds like some really awesome furniture Dave: that's creative Steve: yeah Dave: that's stuff that most cool people would be interested it Dave: in Steve: yeah Dave: and i mean, they wouldn't freaking run it into the ground Dave: i mean. i hope they wouldn't. Steve: yeah Dave: because the whole renovations thing was funny at first Steve: (three yeah's in a row! i win!) Dave: but now it's just gay Steve: yeah, it was cool at first In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:9:26 AM Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Yesterday being Thanksgiving here in the Great White North, I took the opportunity to see Sky Captain again, and thanked God for his great gift to creation that is Gwenyth Paltrow.
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:3:10 PM Saturday, October 09, 2004
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Yeah, I got a new blog, due to several reasons, such as Reason Number One, Reason Number Two, and Reason Number Three. http://www.deathbywhiskey.blogspot.com In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:9:51 PM Friday, October 08, 2004
Cos I feel like I'm watching something Dying
So, you want a movie review? Okay, you have you a movie review, you movie whores. Cranberry Lane 1994 Fresco Films Directed by Danny Glover (his directorial debut) Based on the short story On the Line, by playwright Mikel Gronsache Starring: Brad Pitt [as Henry Lord], Coolio [as Frank Lord], Mark Whalberg [as Rick Marley], and introducing (yes, her first movie) Tara Reid as Melanie Yules. I had the pleasure to see this fine film last week. It was a cult hit indie film in its day, garnering multiple awards at the Cannes Film Festival. The story revolves around the lives of three men, Henry and Frank Lord (Pitt and Coolio, respectively), and Rick Marley (Whalberg). Henry and Rick are roommates sharing a flat in 1960s London. Rick is an aspiring author, and Henry is his drug-addict childhood friend. The story heats up as Rick tires of having Henry bumming his every last pence, and suggests he finds some place else to live. Later that same day, Henry recieves a marriage invitation from America - it would seem his brother is to be married... A brother, it would seem, he never knew he had. Coolio gives the preformance of his life as Frank Lord, Henry Lord's brother. Henry returns to America to meet his brother - shocked to find that his mother once had a one night stand with a young black student she tutored while his father was at War in the 1940s. This all happens within the first 20 or so minutes of the movie, and the real story begins when Rick Marley takes an holiday to the US to visit his old home town. What he finds waiting for him would spoil too much of the film. Suffice to say, this great film about the importance of friendship, love, and brotherhood lacks nothing. When Rick falls in love with the to-be-bride (a darling role for then new-comer Tara Reid), the film asks a deep question few films would dare - what is more important: Friendship, or Brotherhood? Truly worth the rental fee - check it out for yourself if you don't believe me. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:11:13 PM Thursday, October 07, 2004
On African-american Vampires
Such as Blade. Really, a great movie entertainment wise. I mean, how can anyone even hope to top a black vampire for pure entertainment? Not even just a vampire even, a "day walker", who isn't vampire or human. This great wonderful invincible black vampire-killing half-vampire. Everything about this guy is cool. He absolutely radiates cool. He is so totally in control of the situation that you never doubt him. Not even when the bad guys have him all tied up, and they're laying a beating on him, laughing at him, and I'm sitting there thinking, "Blade, you are so cool. These guys really have it coming" and sure enough one of them starts messing around with his sword and the sword attacks him. I'm not even joking. The sword, Blade's sword, attacks this guy's hand. It's incredible, really. Mere words can't even capture the awe and admiration I have, just for the mere concept of this. I mean whew boy. Yeah. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:1:18 PM Sunday, September 26, 2004
Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. If you see one movie this year, see this one! No, actually, see Anchorman. But then sneak into this one, after Anchorman is finished, because it really is an awesome movie. I went in expecting a lot, actually. I mean, you don't get Jude Law and Gwenyth Paltrow in the same movie together and not end up with some kickass entertainment. Add to that CGI robots, an evil Nazi professor, and Gwenyth Paltrow's little hat, and you really have a corker. But more than all that, except maybe the little hat, was the style of cinematography. The acting, the plot, the costumes, the era, and that smashing style we all know and love from the thirties and forties. It reminded me a whole lot of The African Queen, actually. Maybe I'm just a sucker, but here is something new from the past, and I love it.
I've even started combing my hair over to the side, like Jude. Mmmyeah. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:9:13 AM Monday, September 06, 2004
Not a lot of people like feeling lonely. They'll hide in their music, their cars, or whatever's within reach. Some people avoid loneliness altogether and are always around people. I like people. I like being around them, and talking to them, doing things with them. But it's good to be alone again. Loneliness isn't a curse. You just need to know what to do with it.
Tyler Durden says: use soap! In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:4:15 PM Monday, August 23, 2004
This is a post aimed at Local Business
First off, your five year old singing off-tune to a ditty that says something like 'Macho's, give us that cheapest deal!' is not going to make me want to buy your product. There is no call for these pathetic jingles that put five bucks in the pocket of the musicians making them. You'd be better off making something that looks somewhat professional (and that doesn't look like it was made using PowerPoint), and a jingle that says 'Lia! Show us that low-low price!' while people on the street dance to your silly song while singing without professional singing lessons is just going to make me hit mute or change the channel. I understand that you need local people to know about your business, but how about not insulting our intelligence while doing as much. Also, if your company is called Nemer, you don't need to do an annoying Finding Nemo ripoff. If your company is called Nemo, it might be somewhat witty and cute - but even then it would be annoying, so Nemo's Office Supply, don't get any ideas. I can rant on and on but I don't really feel like it.. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:12:41 PM Thursday, August 05, 2004
John said his first word since the accident about five minutes ago. He said "porcupine" and tried to reach for a glass of water sitting near his bed, but then slipped back into his coma. More updates to follow.
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:7:12 PM Wednesday, August 04, 2004
It brings me much sadness to say this..
But, I got a call from Dave today. Apparently, when John went out to get in the power cord, he was struck by lightening. The powercord served as a conduit for electricity, and he's apparently really messed up. He's in the hospital, in a coma. They're not sure yet how much brain-damage he has, or how much internal damage to his body, but they say he'll probably need some organ transplants. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:6:03 PM Tuesday, July 27, 2004
"Let's watch Peter Pan," I said on our way home, and "Yeah, that's a good idea," said the people I was with, so we rented it and watched it. I thought it would be dumb, but it wasn't, it was really very good, and not dark like people said. I suppose if you compared it with the Disney (TM) (c) version you might think it off-colour, but take it by itself and it's really a beautiful little bit of cinematics. Watch it.
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:8:32 AM Sunday, July 18, 2004
Well, I was watching some music television tonight, and I was wondering why I hardly listen to music anymore. Partly, it's because now that I'm living with Kim, I really just don't listen to music. I mean, it's either pause constantly to talk or hear her breathe, or just ignore her. It's difficult to juggle the two, and I just really don't miss music.
But lately, I've been thinking about my old bands, like Coldplay. Coldplay really, really rocks. I mean, let's face it. The Yellow video? It's a classic. I really wish that I could hear more of their new stuff, but it's just not available to me right now. Anyway, I was watching TV, and there was this music video for this band called South. The music video started out in a silhuette, and for a minute something about the guy almost made me think of Ben Lee with a furry moustache. So, I sat there watching it, and I was like 'there's something nice sounding about this music.' The lights flicked on, illuminating the singers' face. I freaked out. Chris Martin, forming a new band? Well, it wasn't Chris Martin, but in the shadowed lighting, it looked just like him. Plus they have the English accent thing in common. Anyway, they're a really fucking awesome band. I suggest going to their site and listening to the (relatively) high quality sound clips. They definitely sound of Coldplay, yet are unique and really swell sounding.< Also, The Walkmen sound like they might be cool, but I'm not sure yet. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:11:19 PM Sunday, July 11, 2004
I came here to stab this old blog with a fork, as in showing it being done, and then I was like "why? why not breathe new life into the old guy?"
So now I'm going to be working on a new scheme and such - something that has not been done in far too long. Also, I'm going to post a Day in the Life: I got CivIII for an early birthday. I've been playing it nonstop the past two days. Not much else to say. Also, I'm helplessly addicted to incense sticks. Headshops are the best. things. ever. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:7:17 PM Friday, June 25, 2004
I've been doing quite a lot of gaming lately.
Champions of Norrath is amazing, as are the Baldur's Gate: Dark Aliance games. Let me pour forth some emotions about Thief: Deadly Shadows. LOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVE. It's so great to stalk around in the shadows again. I really missed the Thief games.. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:12:01 PM Monday, June 21, 2004
I've begun reading Catch-22, which is truly an awesome and funny book. Heller's writing reminds me a lot of Douggie Adams. Which reminds me, aren't the Hitchiker's Guide movies supposed to be coming out soon? That reminds me of a joke I heard once.
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:24 PM Saturday, June 19, 2004
I'm speechless.
A friend of mine just sent me a few songs by a string quarted. Why are they so great? Well, here's the list of songs she sent me covered by a string quarted: Weezer - Buddy Holly Coldplay - Trouble Coldplay - Clocks Coldplay - God Put a Smile Upon Your Face She's sending me more as we speak..these are so amazing. Buddy Holly's actually a great classical sounding piece. Trouble's my favourite so far, though. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:3:23 PM Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Well, lately, I've been writing. How cool is that? Steven "The Author" Sivley writes again!
Also, I've been playing Dungeon Siege, one of my old geeky indulgences. This game is pure magic, though. Pure. Magic. Magic that is Pure. Magic of the Purest Form. The Purest Form of Magic known to Man. Music? What else. The Prisoner of Azkaban soundtrack. It's one of John Williams' best works yet. Surely you all know John Williams, the creator of the Star Wars soundtrack, among so many other great ones. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:8:29 AM Sunday, June 06, 2004
So, About That Potter Fellow
I saw the new Harry Potter film. Notice I call it a film, because that's what it was. It was like some lovely british art film that happened to involve Harry Potter. It's truly magnificent, everyone I know agrees it's the best movie ever. They cut out quite a bit of the middle of the book, a lot of the quidditch and a lot of the teacher scenes, but in some way I didn't even miss it at all.. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:8:27 PM Monday, May 31, 2004
I'm john and steve: "fuh fuh fuh I love Harry Potter fuh fuh fuh"
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:8:50 PM
Well, where to begin.
I've totally been digging on a lot of stuff lately - and not ashamed of any of it. I'm now a huge Harry Potter fan. If people around the world can love the Hobbit - in all of it's juvinille goodness - then (by God!) I can love Harry Potter. The books are pure genius. To be honest, I'm not that crazy about the three main characters (though ron rocks), it's just the stories and atmosphere and vivid imagination. It's like raw imagination, poured onto pages and locked by some spell - only to burst out upon the reader everytime the books are opened. I've been listening to a lot of Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Beck, and ehm..what else..a little bit of Thee Michelle Gun Elephant. Also, per mentioned on my personal blog (check it out, punks), I've been watching classic Japanese films and getting into other classic artistic fields. Shichinin no samurai is still my favourite classic movie of all time ever. I highly suggest it to all. It's so beautiful and well-made. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:6:53 AM Sunday, May 30, 2004
Jet (the band) rocks so hard. I got their CD yesterday, Get Born, and I absolutely love it. As John pointed out, even the slow songs are indescribably scrumtrilescent. And what's more, they're all aussies. When I stop and think about it, there aren't actually very many American bands that I listen to. Our Lady Peace is Canadian, as is Bare Naked Ladies and Danko Jones. Travis is Scottish, U2 Irish. Ben lee is also aussie. Then there's the Brits, Coldplay and Keane and of course the Beatles. YES THE BEATLES. OH YES.
Of course there's always Weezer and Marcy going for America. You gotta love America. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:8:41 PM Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Well, I haven't really been around this place for a while.
To be honest, I spend very little time on the internet during the day time. There's really not a lot of blog-worthy activity going on right now. Mostly just comings and goings, scarcely aware of the existence of hobbits. I started listening to Coldplay again the other day. But lately, I just turn on some instrumental stuff if I'm on the computer. I've decided I'm going to try my hand at wood carving. I'm going to work for ages on one or two pieces so that they are the very best I can make, instead of just chopping up wood and selling bear statuettes. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:3:24 PM Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Van Helsing was awesome. Yesterday after I saw it I was telling someone about it, and explaining the plot, and it really sounded ridiculous. But they did a good job, I thought. It was really very entertaining. I actually expected more of something along the lines of Underworld which was, I thought, a lame movie, but they did the whole vampire/werewolf/ thing rather tactfully, and the special effects were really cool too. I give it six stars (out of ten).
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:30 PM Sunday, May 09, 2004
I've been listening to Scott Weiland's 12 Bar Blues lately. It's sort of melancholic-sounding music with nonsensical lyrics and a lot of surreal affects, and while I usually don't enjoy this type of music, I'm actually getting addicted to it. It has quite a few different styles mixed in there with it.
And all the tangerines They taste like jelly beans This must be boring by now Grab a scale and guess the weight of all The pain I've given with my name. Also I'm seeing Van Helsing on Tuesday. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:2:03 PM Tuesday, May 04, 2004
I've been having so much fun lately. There's this place called Fish Creek, I thought it was just going to be a junky city park - boy, I was wrong. It was really clean, really untouched despite all of the people there.
I'm hoping to go back there again soon. I got an awesome picture of Kim there, too. So lately, I've been playing a tonne of PS2 golf and Soul Calibur II. But not the past two days. Insteave, I've been watching more movies. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is truly a magical movie. Even the sex scene is amazing. 13th Warrior was better the second time than the absolutely amazing movie I thought it was the first time I saw it. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:5:26 PM Monday, April 26, 2004
My First Geek Experience
Couple days ago, I went to my first gathering of geeks. It was my future brotherinlaw's house-warming party. There was this guy named Ozzy or Ozzie or something. He had long hair, in a pony-tail, a black dragon t-shirt and - I swear to God - he even spoke klingon. He talked about computers, DnD, Anime, Star Trek, Star Wars, how the last matrix movie sucked..you name it. We all sat around playing Soul Calibur II, which is always a blast. I never realised how true the geek stereotype is - these guys seriously spoke some klingon off-hand and talked a tonne about hentai anime and star wars and computers. It was insane. I was amazed at how cloned geeks are these days. So tell me, why is it that geeks are so obsessed with these same things? And how is it Soul Calibur II is the best game ever created? In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:11:00 AM Friday, April 23, 2004
This is very long-winded but it is entirely true.
It was my first day driving to work, and it felt good to no longer be at the mercy of the bus. I like the bus, and it is well-run and friendly, only it is better to have my own car. I arrived exactly on time at nine o'clock and Mr. Mattingsley went over the day's activities, as is normal. He'd be leaving shortly and may be gone as long as one o'clock. I may be staying until three or four. Okay, that's fine. Several books in the last batch had stickers till on them that you missed. Nothing really crucial, they're easy to miss. Sometimes they blend in, that's all. Be thorough. Never mind whatever Patricia may have told you. We use tape at a minimal, but be through, alright? Okay. Also, you may want to check the bathrooms. Some unsavoury people have been in there, and I noticed that a cieling tile was a little off. I think it may be the street people, do you mind just checking on that? No, that's fine. A few more instructions and he was gone, and I went into the bathroom and looked up at the tiles of the ceiling. Yes, the one above the toilet was off. That's cool though. I'll do the regular cleaning first, then check on it. Probably it is nothing. Okay, probably nothing. I hope it is something though. It would be fun if it was something. So I did my usual cleaning and then I got the step-ladder out and lined it up with the out-of-place tile and climbed up and slowly lifted the tile. It lifted easily with little complaint and directly to the right was a grey plastic bag and behind it a white one. Ohcrap. Ohholycrap. I climbed back down and grabbed some gloves from the hardware drawer, and back up the ladder and back down to lock the door and then up again. Carefully I reached up and took out the grey bag. I thought it was marijuanna at first, when I reached in, because of the softness of the bag, but then I saw it was only some clothes. I didn't open it, but dropped it down to the floor and reached up for the white one, and it was a white dress shirt, but because both bags were tied tightly I didn't want to open them. I was pretty nervous now, and I carefully reached back behind where I could not see and I felt something hard and metallic. I drew back my hand quickly and closed the tile and climbed back down. Now what. Now what do I do. I have them down, so now what. I picked them up and carried them to the work area in the back and put them under the table. Why would anyone keep clothes there, anyways? Maybe he killed someone, and needed to get rid of the bloody evidence, but he knew not to throw it in the dumpster. Obviously he wants it back. I have to open the store in fifteen minutes, and I'm alone here and he may get angry if he can't find it. Don't be so morbid. It's making you nervous. Remember, there is no wrong choice, it's just that some choices could result in a very bloody death. I chuckled to myself now, and decided I'd die of curiosity anyways if I didn't explore some more up there, so I got back on the ladder and reached up and felt into the darkness and pulled out a metal horseshoe-shaped object. I was dissapointed at it's harmless visage, and I put it with the bags and put away the ladder. The best thing would be to lock that bathroom door, but there is no key for it that I am aware of, and so it could be an error. It was now time to open, so I unlocked the main door and began working. So involved I was with what I was doing that I did not notice when the banging first began. I listened carefully and it was immidiately obvious that there was someone in the bathroom. I listened for not much longer, but went and locked the shop's three inner doors, so that no one could enter from the hall where the bathroom was. My legs felt odd, as if they wished to run, but my mouth was not dry and so I knew I was not very badly affected. I listened very carefully and heard him exit the bathroom and walk to the hall. I know that he must have heard me shut and lock the doors, and so then he must know that I am suspicious, and he may be scared, and very dangerous now. He tried all three of the doors, quietly at first and then again louder, and then he cursed and went up the stairs. I waited until I heard the cheerful voices of several people coming down the stairs before I opened the doors again and it all felt like a dream, but then I went into the bathroom and saw that the toilet seat was down and there were crumbs of the ceiling tile about the floor. I went back to the shop and there was a Jewish man there who had some books on hold, and I selected them for him and added them up and as I swiped his visa card he said to me: "What do you believe about life after death?" and then, "or are you too young to think about death?" and I said "Everyone should think about death. And I am not too young to die." "Yes," he said, "that's true." In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:10:58 PM Thursday, April 15, 2004
So I have a car now. Yeah, someone gave me a car. It's pretty great. That's all.
Oh yeah, and I one-upped Steve. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:13 PM Monday, April 12, 2004
Well, well, well..it seems I've one-upped Dave at long last. Here, to rub it in:
A Partial Day In The Life Woke up at like 10:00 Got up Broke fast Meandered around We went to pawn shops at like 12:00 Bought Shapeshifter for six tiny dollars Saw workerchick that looked like my cousin mixed with molly parker. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:2:37 PM Sunday, April 11, 2004
I would just like to say, first off, that John is a moneymongering bastard who has no moral code or ethical thought patterns.
Anyway, I've been gone out to see Kim's relatives (as if in a museum) for the past week or so. But I'm back now, and I'm all groovy (to quote a John). I haven't been listening to any music or watching much TV or but a couple of movies and not reading anything. But I'm up and kicking. For instance: A Yesterday in the Life I got up at about 8:00 and got ready to head out of Kelowna, where we were visiting Kim's grandmother (who's frikken old) Left at about 10:00 Went to tim horton's for timbits but I was thirsty later Finally got on the road at about 10:30 We travelled a while. Then we stopped travelling. And got more timbits. Then we travelled some more. We stopped for some DQ later. The lettuce was old. The sammich was pretty good but..meh. Then we travelled even more. We pulled into Calgary at about like i don't know oh maybe 6 their time, 5 according to the clock on which we left. My body is now in travel overload. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:1:02 PM Thursday, April 01, 2004
A Day in the Lifve.
I woke up at about 8.30 to a breakfast of scrambled eggs and fried sausage with family and Rev. Donnelly. Conversation centered around travel, as we just arrived home from Winnipeg the previous evening, and were now preparing to head out east to the Seattle area. After breaking my fast I unpacked and did laundry to Ben Lee and Travis. I miss Marcy Playground, but I feel like I betrayed them; I still don't have MP3 even though it's been out for over a week. I'll be paying a visit to MusicWorld tomorrow to slake my lust. I started Lord of the Flies after luncheon, until I became tired. I took a nap and awoke remarkably refreshed and energized. Mother told me to go to the store for some sour cream and I realized while driving that I really do like this city. Really, it isn't that bad. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:5:51 PM Monday, March 22, 2004
I wrote up a post yesterday or so, but my computer jammed. So that was a set-back.
I have, as most know, been sucking down far too much Marcy Playground. This is about as healthy as doing opium. So I decided to put on some Our Lady Peace now and again - if only in small amounts - to counter-act the overload. The result has been pure bliss. My mother called me on the cell-phone yesterday while I was out, and she had been using the computer, and I had left music running on my part thingy. She was like "there's some jamaican music on here and I can't make it stop." "Jamaican?" "Yeah, it's like whoackamon-" and what followed sounded like the only music she's ever heard was the cops song. How she figured Our Lady Peace sounds anything at all like Jamaicans, I have yet to figure out. As I mentioned earlier, a lot of Marcy Playground. I've yet to find a song of theirs that I particularly dislike. There are some I like more than others, or perhaps osme I do not like as much, but there is none that I do not actually enjoy listening to, though whether I enjoy it depends - most often - on a mood (enhancing drug). In other news, I leave for CANADA in 3 days. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:7:32 PM Friday, March 19, 2004
In Transit to and From Work.
A woman sitting near the front of the bus looked very sour. It wasn't the temporary crossness that comes with irritation, but she wore a sarcastic sneer that never lifted. "Damn you, bus," her sneer said. I thought about how difficult it would be to engage in any kind of freindly conversation if that sneer was never banished. I wondered if she could ever fall in love. Maybe she was in love. She wasn't very old. I thought probably in her twenties. She was probably a college student. Probably she was a very dissillusioned college student who was in love. I was glad I sorted that out and then she got off the bus, still sneering. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:3:00 PM Sunday, March 14, 2004
We're back in business...... so someone comment or post or SOMETHING already!
-Not Really Steven In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:2:52 PM Friday, March 12, 2004
VANDALIZED!!!!!!
In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:9:37 PM Wednesday, March 10, 2004
You probably had to be there.
opium says: and piss. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:6:38 PM
Needs no words nor introduction.
a farewell to arms says: wheeee! In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:6:36 PM Sunday, March 07, 2004
Word for Word's Guide on Throwing that Poppy Monkey off your Back
a farewell to arms says: give the dealer all of your money a farewell to arms says: allll of it poppies says: and your house a farewell to arms says: and then you /can't./ poppies says: and your grandad's estate a farewell to arms says: and your wife poppies says: hell, go ahead and give him your daughter a farewell to arms says: lol poppies says: cos you'll be pimping her out if you don't a farewell to arms says: damn straight a farewell to arms says: and your sons too poppies says: yeah a farewell to arms says: the earlier they learn the facts of life - that they're going to be male prostitutes - early in life. a farewell to arms says: i mean the better In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:9:52 PM
Oh Please!
"oh oh he's anti-semitic because he hates jews!" I'm getting really sick of this vast bastardisation of the word semitic. It's as if the Jewish peoples have somehow monopolised on the word 'semitic' and the media reckons they're spiffy if they use the term a lot. Especially now that Mel Gibson is being called anti-semitic..HELLO PEOPLE, CHRIST WAS SEMITIC! MOST EVERYONE IN THE BIBLE WERE SEMITIC! GET OVER IT AND STOP THINKING YOU ARE SPECIAL! In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:3:56 PM Friday, March 05, 2004
Once upon a time, there were some blogs. These blogs were rompeous places of carnal delight (trademarked), and often times many could be seen there - engaging in rompeous delight and frolicful good times.
The Winter came upon them without warning, and buried them - as so often Winter does - in drab and fridgid decay. Now a new time is upon them all. The Sun shines out the brighter, between refreshing showers of Spring rain. As the life of every plant, once again these blogs shall grow. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:3:33 PM
A Yestermorning in the Life
I woke up and looked at my clock. It was seven, so I had two hours before I had to make the call. I read for awhile in the Goldstone's Slightly Chipped (footnotes in booklore) about a certain quaint book store that the authors had found, and then another chapter about a library sale. Eight o'clock brought breakfast, during which a story idea began to form in my mind, and at half eight I was in the shower. Eight fourty I was clean and sitting at my desk with the phone in front of me. Twenty minutes to go, so I read a couple of chapters of Hemingway's A Moveable Feast (sketches of the author's life in Paris in the twenties) before getting out the number and carefully dialing. I got a busy signal, so I hung up. I got out my notebook to start writing, but Hemingway had killed it. I wrote anyways, but it was really dead. I punished him by reading more of Slightly Chipped, banishing A Moveable Feast back to the shelf. I made the first call at nine o'clock. "Doug here." "Mr. Faulker? This is David Dyck calling. I dropped my resume off there yesterday morning." "Oh, yes, David. Look, can you call back in fifteen minutes? I'm on an important call." "Okay." I sat thinking for a moment, and then reached for A Moveable Feast. If it was all dead anyways, I might as well make the most of it. He had two chapters in a row about twins. I tried calling again in fifteen minutes. "Doug here." "Hello, this is David again." "Ah, Dave, hey, I'm on an important call with a customer, can you try again?" "Sure." I switched back to the Goldstones, fearing more on twins. They went back to this quaint shop with a friend, only this time the owner had a dog there. It was a lazy dog. I tried calling again, and this time got the information I needed, which was to call back at the beginning of April when they were hiring. "Thanks," I said, and went back to Hemingway. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:10:36 AM Thursday, March 04, 2004
Word for Word's First Official Policy
If you do not like the content of Word for Word, keep in mind that you are not under obligation to read it. We're not going to beat up your grandmother if you don't. If you feel it somehow goes against your moral code, please do not complain to one of the authors. Especially not Dave. If you feel me and John are perverted, talk to me or John, and leave Dave out of it. Complaining will not make us feel guilty, because we do not see any moral problem with the content of Word for Word. We do not talk about sex but maybe once a month, and we use "dirty words" even less. We really don't care. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:7:20 PM
I hope you all like it. If not, let me know and I'll change it back.
In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:9:49 AM
So I got some Marcy Playground songs from an unnamed source among us, and I am positively in love with A Cloak of Elvenkind. It's pure magic - and that pun was both intentional and corny.
I've felt kind of bummed out whenever I come to read word for word. I guess I haven't been posting much, but there's just not a lot to post about right now. I would suggest - for the betterment of the reader and of the world - any of you interested in living a happy life go out and get Peace in Every Step from your library or book store. It's by Thich Nhat Hanh. It's a light and easy read and in no time flat you'll be praying to the Buddha. Actually you won't. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:9:00 AM Tuesday, March 02, 2004
I finished my second Magnus Mills book today, and seriously considered naming my first born child "Magnus." Regardless of gender. It was called All Quiet on the Orient Express and it contained all the delightfully mundane prose that I came to love in The Restraint of Beasts. I was surprised by the lack of cursing in this one. Restraint is about fencers (that is, those who make fences) and the abundant cursing made it real. But in this one, while the theme orbited around work and wages in the same way Restraint did, it was on a higher level. Another similiarity between Mills' first and second books is in the characters. I saw several faces that I recognized from Restraint in the cast, most notably the main one, but this is fine with me. It fits with his throbbing prose, and by dam', who am I to point fingers. He's writing about himself.
In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:8:39 PM Saturday, February 28, 2004
I'm so tired of not having anything to post here. I'm not doing anything word for wordy lately. So, you know. Maybe I'll post a review of the Ding Dong Song.
OR, maybe I Won't. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:9:48 AM Wednesday, February 25, 2004
Another picture salvaged from work:
Manuel Bauer. Tibetan refugee. Delhi 1995 In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:9:15 PM Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Word for Word's Shortest Frickin Review Ever
Today I got this one CD. I like it. Now to get on with life. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:11:10 PM
Word for Word's First Review by Me that Anyone Will Read (Probably)
The capitalisation up there is crap. I'll be honest, I really have nothing to review right now. I just wanted some acceptance. I'm sorry..please..go on with your life. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:8:47 AM Monday, February 23, 2004
Word for Word's First False Review
(It's like drugs; everyone else is doing it, and I haven't anything better to do, and maybe people will think I'm cool if I do it too.) Marcy Playground (self titled) 1997; Capitol Records I have waited so long to hold this CD in my hands and call it mine. I would guess it to be roughly a year ago - nay, upon reflection, it seems it was less than a year ago - that I first heard it and pronounced it good. Alas, for it was only borrowed, and since then I've not found a single bloody copy for purchase. Mostly because I haven't looked really hard, but shut up. After listening to it again after all that time I realize that, along with tracks one, three, five, seven, eight, and arguably twelve, six is also about opium. What can I say? They're a bunch of stoners, but I love them anyhow. Whew, I'm knackered. In Memory of Petey [Dave] Time:1:45 PM Friday, February 20, 2004
Word for Word's First True Review
FreeLancer (2003) (Microsoft, Digital Anvil) Graphics: 9/10 Gameplay: 10/10 Sound: 5/10 Replay Value: Indefinite playability Story: 6/10 Theme: 10/10 Overall: 9.5/10. I'll start on my list and work my way down instead of writing a fancypants review. Graphics are absolutely fantastic, though maybe not at first. Sure, there aren't quadrillions of polygons in each nostril, but what makes graphics good? To me, good graphics are crisp, clean, beautiful, and smooth-running. I found the graphics in FreeLancer to be perfect for its age. The player models are amazing - even if they do have funny necks sometimes. The greatest part about the graphics, to me, are the lighting and space effects. The Trade Lanes, the weapon effects, the stars. It's really awesome to be heading back home after a long mission and see a spaceport in silhuette against a nearby star. Gameplay is just unbelievable. The mouse-driven piloting was only awkward for perhaps the first two minutes, but it very quickly shows itself as perhaps the greatest way to pilot in space, ever. Joysticks were always too slow and generally unresponsive for space combat. In real world aircraft settings, it's fine because you need that real feeling - but space is Sci-Fi, and also I have a feeling it'd be easier to pilot a ship with sharp turns and such without being afraid of stalling or anything. Anyway. I ranted there. There is one fault in "Gameplay" that I did not feel would really subtract from the score. The reason is that it is an abscence, not a fluke. What exists in the game is perfected and wonderful, but a lot that could have been isn't there. The missions are generally the same. Launch from point B, fly to point A, eliminate targets, press B to bring in whatever it was you may've been after, and kick on cruise engine back to point A. I love doing that. However, now and again it would be great to maybe have to go to point B, see why Good Guy X isn't back yet, maybe he's been damaged, so you have to help him fix his ship or something. There's so much more you could do with a massive universe like that in FreeLancer. So I guess that's a flaw. Sound in this game..I absolutely love the sounds. Everything is there. Crank up surround sound and hear every painful shot slam into your raw hull when your shields are down and you're out of batteries. The radio chatter is just fantastic. Sure, most of times it's the same thing, but when you enter a personel-heavy area and hear all of the commerce and business and patrols going on, it really makes you feel like you're a part of something. The music is equally beautiful, and though it's not a fore-ground feature of the game, it really adds to the atmosphere. I always find myself tapping my foot when I go into a bar. "So, Steve, why'd you give it a 5 if you love it so much?" - that is probably what you are asking right now. Because, the voice acting is just plain horrible. It's not stiff, it's not rigid - I actually like the voices in this game. Then what's the problem? Everything is a cut-and-paste sort of deal. From what I reckon, they had different voice actors recorded saying each faction, each "We don't run this base, but" line, and each ship type, number, letter, planet, system, port...then they paste it all together. It sounds like when you call the bank to find out the current temperature and she's all "The current..temperature in your area is fifty..one..degrees...fahrenheit." It gets a little monotonous. It gets very monotonous, and annoying, actually. The Replay Value is out of the roof on this game, for me. I've been waiting for this kind of game for a long time. This game, actually. I mean, I've been waiting for FreeLancer since they first started making it some 5 years ago. I personally love long lonely flights from planet to planet, selling h-fuel and buying more stuff to sell elsewhere. I will be playing this game in the distant future, and it ranks with the Civilization games for "Games that'll rock no matter how out dated they become and I will play them probably once every few months when nostalgia or need for good gaming hits me." Story's pretty plain and there's really not much to say. It's not a bad story, but it's not top of the line. It could do without a story, so what they've given as a story is a bit lacking. Sound confusing? Let me explain. Without a story, it would still be an excellent game. However, if they're going to give it a story, it's worthy of a really really good story, and could handle one very well. I do like how it harkens back to the old days of gaming, in terms of characters and factions and such. Theme. Yes, this game got ratings out the wazoo because I absolutely love the theme. I cannot express how much I love the dashing pilot freelance bounty hunter pirate rogue in space theme. I have dreamt about this game for a very long time. I only wish I could put on the boots and jacket of a space cowboy and hit the jump gates in my ricketty souped-up out-dated ship with contraban in my cargo-hold. Over-all, there's just not much for which you can fault this game. There's a lot you could say "they should've done," but there's not really much you can say 'they shouldn't've done,' except for the gripe I had with the sound. Basically, the missing .5/10 is for things they should have done, not mistakes or problems with what they did. On a side note, I do have on gripe that doesn't fit in anywhere: WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD? Everyone is nameless. You recognise characters by their uniform, and you recognise their faction, not actually their character. Sure, you'll see the same guy in a bar sometimes, but he's not "Jaden Troy, Bounty Hunter." No, he's "Oh, well - I'm with the .. Bounty Hunters Guild. We don't exactly run this place, but .. we have an understanding with the people who do." That's it. He's with the Bounty Hunters Guild. Who needs a name when you have a mouth full of that sentence to spew forth? I think we understand one another, Reado Baggins. In Memory of Petey [Steven] Time:12:36 AM |
