Chapter Three

Time for a new post.

I'm going to be lame and go into my reading list. English class has me reading all over the place: American poetry, British poetry, Pride and Prejudice, Catcher in the Rye, Death of a Salesman, etc. It was in English class that I discovered my favorite poet of all time, Wallace Stevens. His writing goes in so many different directions. He has the profound and view-changing with "Sunday Morning" and with the classic "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird." Then there's the simple but powerful "Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock," the ever pleasing and very earthy "The Emperor of Ice-cream." There's the long and complex "The Comedian as the Letter C." I particularly enjoy this poem; every time I read it, I see more comparisons and connections within the poem and transgressing it. And, my favorite, "Bantams in Pinewoods." Ahem: (The underscores are because I can't indent:)

_____Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan
_____Of tan with henna hackles, halt!
_____
_____Damned universal cock, as if the sun
_____Was blackmoor to bear your blazing tail.
_____
_____Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the personal.
_____Your world is you. I am my world.
_____
_____You ten-foot poet among inchlings. Fat!
_____Begone! An inchling bristles in these pines,
_____
_____Bristles, and points their Appalachian tangs,
_____And fears not portly Azcan nor his hoos.

Try reading it outloud; try shouting it out loud. It's very pretty sounding. Does it make any sense? Not really. Let me draw you attention to the last sentence: "An inchling (singular subject) bristles (singular verb) in these pines, / Bristles (singular verb), and points their (wait, plural..?)" Go Wallace Stevens abusing grammar and making no sense whatsoever. It's a very beautiful poem though.

But I don't just read in school. I do a lot of reading on my own too. But this mainly falls into two catagories of reading. The first is physics. I read a lot of books about physics, right now I'm reading The God Particle by Leon Lederman. It's hilarious; if you have any interest in physics, I strongly suggest reading this book. The second category is Anne Rice. I love Anne Rice. She is my favorite author; all her books are fabulous (except Queen of the Damned, which was a little dry, but the movie is great (it has a very sexy Lestat) and makes up for it). I realize I could go off on a tangential rant about that other author, but I'm not going to. I don't want to flatter her, because she can't write worth a damn. Anne Rice has a very particular writing style. It's very detailed and very eloquent. She has a habit of doing months of research about the time period and place that she's writing about before she writes her books, so her sceneries are breathtaking, even in written form. You have to like reading that kind of thing though, or else you won't appreciate the series.

Other authors / books I've read include Isaac Asimov (just the robot series so far; I'm getting to the foundation series), those silly Harry Potter books, the The Golden Compass series (I'm really happy I just used the word "the" twice in a row legitimately), Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, Beowulf (the Old English version and Heaney's translation) and Grendel, etc.

Books I have not read but are sitting on my shelf include The Lord of the Rings - I know, I know, I should have read this already, but I got bored after I read The Hobbit. Also, Dante's Inferno, Darwin's Origin of Species, Atlas Shrugged, etc.

I also have seasons one and two of Ghost in the Shell on my shelf, because god dammit they're so amazing they deserve it.

Chapter Two

So I had dinner with Jess. (Yes, you can hit me now.) It was quite a bit of fun. I was a little early, but I got a table at the window, so I got to watch people walk and drive by. Some of the best of the night were:
1) A group of 4 girls in a convertible jumping up and down in their seats and waving their arms in the air while singing to the radio. Very stereotypical. Very funny.
2) 10 guys in a pick-up. Yes, 10 guys. That was just the back of the truck too. They were all trying not to look at each other. I'm not sure how they managed it, but it was pretty funny.
4) Two guys drove by in some car, and the driver had a Pokemon hat on.
3) Three guys walked down the street, all of them had Pokemon hats on. I think it was the same guys as the car.
4) Well, of course Jess, how could I forget until now. I saw her first. (Nyah.) And I know she saw me. She was very much exactly the same as I remembered. That's a lie. She wasn't hiding behind a car. She has my approval; but, she gets only gets a B-.
5) Jess's friends, because they were such a contrast, what with the waving and all.
6) A six-year-old skipping down the sidewalk. Very quickly. He was going too fast and he tripped, but someone walking the other way was very nice and caught him, so he didn't get hurt.
7) A guy in an electric power wheelchair, mainly because it made me think how much fun it would be to race someone. (In fact, I challenged Jess.)
---
Tangent: Power Chair versus Power Wheelchair. Power wheelchair draws more sympathy, doesn't it? Power chair makes it sound like some cool contraction or toy - which it is - but power wheelchair reminds you that its a wheelchair, which is saddening. So using one or the other is a method to draw - or sidestep - the sympathy factor, but that's not what I'm doing. I just think the one is more accurate. Yay for tangents that end up no where.
---
Those are all the main ones. There were various others wandering the streets outside my window, but they were mostly less interesting. After dinner, Jess was going to leave, but I made sure otherwise. We skipped (metaphorically, although that would have been more fun) off. I paid no heed to traffic and walked bodly out into the street. I was in a cross section and pedestrians have right of way. Everyone seems to forget that. The car has to stop for you, remember that. Yes, in a battle of stregnth the car would win, but then you can sue the driver, and no driver wants that - or the guilt if they kill you - and so 90+% of drivers will stop. You can always tell the ones who won't; they're the ones doing 60 on a one-way. You don't mess with them, sensiably. But for everyone else, walk right out, it's perfectly legal and they won't hit you. Plus it's a major power rush. Anyway, we skipped off and ended up at Barnes & Noble. We sat for a moment to have some coffee, and then we proceeded to ravage the store. It was quite fun. Our ravaging - amoung other things - included taking books from the "Gay and Lesbian" section and putting them into the "Catholic" section. Always enjoyable. Anyway, I can't really complain about the evening, because if I do, Jess'll bite my head off. But let's not put ideas into anyone's head.

Chapter One

Today I went to a restaurant for dinner. They were supposed to have very good ribs. In the parking lot, there was a very old man. I suspect he was crazy. He happened to be standing right in front of the space that I was going to take. When he realized - by some sixth sense - that I was intending to eventually put my car into the space on the other side of him, he stopped walking, very deliberately. Then he turned around and stared at me. He had a bit of a hunch and the most unidentifiable light in his eyes. I suspect he was crazy. Our eyes met, and he didn't turn back around and start walking again until moments later, and only after I looked away first. He went into the same restaurant as I intended. I proceeded without deterrence.

The restaurant was full of characters. Very interesting looking people. The word would probably be red neck. Most of the people were old. Old red necks. Most of the men were fat. The only women were waitresses or with their husbands. They all had rings; I checked; I'm not making presumptions. I ordered the ribs with a Cajun sauce. I could have ordered anything, but food is food. So whatever.

They started playing music. The first song was Yankee Doddle. You know the song: "Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a pony." I swear to God they played Yankee Doodle. Really, really loud. Next on the playlist was Mary Had a Little Lamb. The rest of the music was country and techno-country. Something in me would have died, but it died in my company first. I had company; maybe I forgot to mention. (And I wasn't driving either, in case you were wondering.) My company has a history of complaining to managers when the music in a restaurant is too loud. I thought they were going to. But they didn't. I got the feeling that they didn't want to bother the rest of the restaurant. It was really almost a pub. Kinda. I can't imagine why they were shy. The people inside looked very agreeable. What with the three empty mugs at 4 in the afternoon.

Nota: It seems this is trying to write itself about me. I shall resist once more, but give in to futility if futile resisting is.

Prologue

Blogging. It seems like such an /agreeable/ idea. Please read that as bitterly as possible. Talking about myself, documenting my feelings, my ideas - I would hate to make myself so utterly transparent, as I know I would. Nevertheless, I entertain the idea of blogging. I haven't been able to put those two puzzle pieces together until now.

I am xena kaaii. Not capitalized. I was born in August, 2006. This is a lie, of course. I am a mind of fiction. I was first dreamed up in August 2006. I call that being born. Sue me.

I have very few opinions. I get the impression that I could count them on one hand. I've never done that though; it would make things boring. Hopefully you won't read too much into my character. Opinions I make and sides I take are mostly temporary and situational. I should be volatile enough to dissuade you of my persuasion. We shall see.

But, in the end, this blog is not about me; this blog is about other people around me. The important ones will get names; others will not. Don't go looking for them; I won't use their real names. Rather than document myself, I will document you. Don't expect; I don't.