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Wednesday, February 25, 2009

I'm a Writer not a Fighter


So, as many of you know, I'm self-publishing my first book entitled: Distorted Orange Hidden County.




It's been a real challenge, working with publishers, editors, photographers, models, my professors, getting advice from my peers, and compiling all the material into the best possible format. But I like to think of this as a learning experience, as a way to cut my teeth in the world I plan to make a career of - writing.

Despite all the delays, setbacks, compromises between what I WANT to do, and what I CAN do, I'm really pleased with how the book is turning out. My engagement with the material has changed over the years as I've slowly turned my crappy ramblings into real poetry. Some of the poems I started back in high-school! And since this is my first book/collection/whatever - my baby - I want it to be as good as I can make it. No short-cuts or worrying about cost. I BARELY stayed in my budget, but it was worth it.




The book is due out in roughly two months - hopefully less. Not sure if I'll have a release party yet. I don't even know who I'd invite. But I will be making announcements as soon as the first copies are available. You'll be able to purchase it through B&N, Borders, Amazon, and my publisher, Wingpsan Press. The book will cost around $20. (I know, why so expensive? It's because I did the pictures in color.) Those of you - and you know who you are - that contributed to the making of will receive a complementary copy.

And to tell you more about exactly what this book is all about, here's the blurb I wrote:

"A reaction to the media's portrayal of Southern California as a collection of slumburbs, home to rich sixteen year olds with nothing better to do than bleach their hair and star in reality television shows. Distorted Orange Hidden County is a native's poetic manifesto that shows — and tells — the authentic and overlooked pieces of Orange County, from dilapidated oil refineries to enigmatic tiki faced sand-carvings. In each poem and each picture is a story from underground suburban life, derelict pier to liquor store to gated community. You will be assaulted with heart-wrenching moments of staggering randomness so haunting they could only have been written by an eccentric tour-guide on a midnight drive through empty sea-side freeways."


Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Products for Break-ups

Today I was reading an article in an old issue of AdBusters about some conceptual products that duplicate the lingering effects of an ex after you've broken up - cigarette smoke, depressions in the sheets, the sound of her breathing, that sort of thing. At first I laughed and felt bad that there are people nowadays who might actually buy/need these contraptions. Then I thought about it and realized I have no idea what it must be like. To be left by someone you cared for so much that even your bed remembers them when they're gone.

I never had a relationship that lasted that long.



I wonder if I'd buy a lipstick-stained glass after getting dumped, just so I could pretend, for a little while... Maybe I don't even need the breakup. Just the glass, and the pretending.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Deformity or Evolutionary Fashion Statement?


***DISCLAIMER: CONTENT BELOW MAY INDUCE GAGGING, VOMITING, LOSS OF MUSCLE CONTROL, URINARY DISCHARGE, AND UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED***

So, I was on Wikipedia, clicking on the "Random Article" button to pass the time between procrastinating doing my homework, and procrastinating getting up to go to class, when I found this strange article on Epidermodysplasia Verruciformis.

Everything that follows started from that.




Dede Koswara: the Tree Man of Java. He has a unique condition related to HPV. Basically it means that his body can't fight off certain infections, which causes wart-like growths to appear all over his body, particularly the hands and feet. It all started when he got a cut on his knee at just fifteen years old. Since being discovered by the big media-conglomerates his story has been making the rounds, with a special on ABC, Discovery channel, as well as articles in the Telegraph and Huffington Post.

He's undergone MULTIPLE surgeries to remove the growths from his body, but they keep coming back. Still, the guy's pretty fucking resilient, saying he still hopes to lead a semi-normal life, work, get married again - his wife left him, so he has to raise their two sons by himself - and MAYBE see what his hands look sometime in the future.




Victor "Larry" Ramon Ramos Gomez: One of the legendary Wolf Boys. Over five generations of the Ramos Gomez family have suffered from a rare form of congentital generalized hypertrichosis. There are approximately 19 members of the family alive right now who are still afflicted by this - including the women!

Larry, and his brother Danny (Gabriel Ramos Gomez) travel the world showcasing their unusual features AND acrobatic skills. Surprisingly enough, Larry is actually married to a Nadine Christine Lee, and has a young son named Michael Ramos Lee.




Huang Chuancai: China's Elephant Man. He was born with an EXTREME case of Neurofibromatosis, which caused a massive tumor to grow on his face. It all started when he was eight years old, eventually being taken out of school at ten because of how the kids were treating him. In July 2007 he had an operation to remove the now 30+ pound tumor which has ruined his spine and caused a myriad of other physiological problems.

Despite everything, Huang, 31 years old now, just wants to enjoy the spring festival with his family. And that's all the information I could gather.

Okay, can you imagine living like that? I mean, just trying to do the basic things like eat, sleep, go to the bathroom! It's gotta be so frustrating & difficult. But in spite of it, all these people want are the simple things in life - job, family, acceptance.




And looking at them, it makes me think about our "standards of beauty". Like, what IS beautiful when you're confronted with people that look like THAT? Does Kate Moss really seem so sexy anymore? I mean, sure, being so skinny that you can cut cocaine with your arms must be quite useful for her - but is it pretty? Honestly, the body image promulgated by Western Society (and in some respects, Eastern as well) just doesn't make sense in the face of such differences.

Scientists have noticed that as our species evolves, we'll soon lose our pinkie toes. Will we start finding people with only FOUR toes the attractive norm? It's interesting to think about.

Personal preferences aside, we DO seem to hold the same basic model for beauty: full lips, medium nose, clear skin, hairless well-defined chests on guys, and perky tits on girls. Sounds delicious, right? But what about curves and smiles and eyes? Hell... what about personality?

I for one would like to see if someday we'll retro back a few thousand years to the time when the kind of desireable body-image was like in all those fertility sculptures. I'm curious to see if fat chicks really WILL bring their sexy back.




There needs to be a better way to tell if someone's "beautiful", because I just don't know anymore.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Maps and other useful charts


Every good explorer needs direction for their keen sense of wanderlust. This is something I happily discovered by accident. It's basically awesome.



Now even the most amateur Saboteur Academian may navigate the interwebs without fear of spam, viral downloads, or getting burned by flaming troll memes.

Of course, you'll need to get going as soon as possible if you plan to explore the outer reaches of cyberspace - because the crazie thing about it is, if you wait too long it changes. And in case you're not sure where to start, because you "don't know where you are," then let me show you.



Also, some more useful maps/charts/Google satellite photos in case you decide to go out into "the real world." Remember that it's a big place outside, so be sure to google your destination and double-check with Mapquest, or something.







Ooops! Better watch out, those Muslims don't like it when you send spy-satellites to watch them making-out. (Or when they chop people's heads off either.)

***BONUS***

A special "map" for those of you who are so confused you don't even know HOW you are.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Robert Frost & Fran├žois Rabelais




We've all got some sort of wanderlust in us. It's the cause for all that teenage angst, twenty-something drinking bouts, and thirty-something scramble for careers or relationships. We're all walking some sort of path towards our own specific end, and while we know not how or when we'll reach it, we trudge the road ever onward.

I've been walking mine since before my first memory. It all started at two years old when my mother discovered a small lump in her chest. That little aggregation of flesh - such a small thing really, to determine the starting course of my life. But ever since then, when I was taken prematurely from my mother's breast, I was predisposed to loneliness, and the fear of being alone.

Maybe it's my own fault for thinking that nobody cared about my problems. Or thinking that even if they did, they couldn't help because they could never understand what it was like for me. People are okay, but they're still people and they can still hurt you quite by accident. It's not their fault really, because they just don't know any better.

I remember that happened to me a lot, being hurt and getting over it like it was nothing.



As a small child I would sleep in our greenhouse that was converted to a playroom. I'd curl into a small ball and with one-eye look straight up through all those panes of glass. The world was too big for me to worry about holes in my heart or head. When you look up at the infinite night, moon, stars, and blue-black sky, the world almost seems to press down on you with an immense weight. There are more important things than me, and I reaaaally want to see them. I've got to know, to be there when it all happens. What that is I'm not sure - everything, I guess.

Maybe it could've started from then, my constant fascination with the sky, with things bigger than myself and everyone else. (I've since come to suspect that there are no real beginnings, just a bunch of first times.) Either way, it was A beginning. I directed all my self-imposed solitude to figuring out that universal question that only the impossible can cause in a person.



Why is this how to has to be? What's the reason for all of it, me, you, mother, father, brother, pets, friends, and even legos. (I've always loved legos.) And if there is some point to it, then how come it all gets so terribly wrong sometimes? There has got to be a better way than this. Right? ... Right?

Lots of people hate questions, hate having to answer a steady stream of curiosity, as if they're afraid of thinking about what they don't know! And, I guess, maybe they are. People are strange like that. But I'm not afraid to be stupid. I mean, it's not like I care what someone else thinks since I'm mostly by myself anyways. I know that if I don't ask the question, I'll never know if there's even an answer. And what if there is? Then the person who asks may seem like a fool for a little while... but the person who doesn't will be a fool forever.

I HAD to know where all the "what-ifs" ended. That's something my mind cannot accept: being unable to find the ultimate reason for things. I've always assumed that if you just look hard enough, you'll find the start of everything. I guess it never occurred to me that maybe things had simply ALWAYS been. But hey, I was a kid, so cut me a break.

There's no way I could convincingly explain how I thought like this before I was even ten years old. All I can say is that I did.



So it was that I went about life with solitude in my heart, and curiosity in my head. Eventually I learned to ignore my pain and give over to the love of adventure, discovery, exploring the depths of my mind and my world like a submariner.

And I kept those hulls tightly sealed, no one was allowed in... at least, not at first. It took a long time to open the hatch from time to time when I came back to the surface. Life was hard enough without having to try making friends when I'd only have to leave them again. They couldn't follow me where I was going - we moved in and out of neighborhoods A LOT.

There's this dream I have though. No, not really a dream, more like a wish, except I could never make it fully because I didn't think it would really happen. I imagine myself standing on a hill overlooking this beautifully picturesque view. The sky is clear and moon full, and for as far as I can see there is this rolling blanket of lights, like slow-moving waves from the ocean. And they're twinkling. It's almost as if all the stars fell from the sky at the same time and covered the ground. The idea is overwhelming.

Then she's there beside me, the woman I love, arms wrapped around my waist, and I pull her in close to me. She feels like an extension of myself, warm and comfortable, like old clean clothes. We watch from the hilltop, smiling at this amazing thing.



Maybe that sounds stupid/sappy/romantic/cheesy/whatever, but it's what I've always wanted since I finally learned that girls actually DON'T have cooties. I've always wanted to do that with someone ever since I realized how beautiful it was to kiss, to hold and be held. I've always wanted to find the one person I can finally share my life with - or for as long as we can, at least - without worrying that she won't understand or not like it.

Until then, I'll keep searching for my Immortal Beloved, and follow the path my soul has set.

"I go to meet a Great Perhaps."

Friday, February 20, 2009

Music worth its weight in noise


If the title doesn't make sense to you, then let me skip long-winded explanations and just say that I can't stop listening to this song by Matt Costa.



He's a local boy (well, local for me, in that he's from Huntington Beach, which is right next door to my hometown of Costa Mesa) and while not my usual eclectic tunes... I like it. I really do. The song has that catchy melody that always reminds me of the theme song for Southern California, high-pitched yearning that keenly feels romantic and mourning.

And ya'll KNOW I'm a sucker for anything like that.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Some more poetics




It used to feel so narcissistic to post my own poetry up here. Not because I was uncomfortable about other people reading my work (though that was part of it). To write about my own writing was something like masturbating to myself... or not.

Here's one of the five poems I submitted to SFSU's undergrad literary journal this year. Hopefully I get in - but if I don't then it only proves how much better I am than them. Right?


The Unbearable Weight of Not-Being


part of being light is that
everybody moves     directionless
you can't call it dancing (there's no beat, no musicality to this
awkwardness)

the MO is passionate, but all they have is     indifference
their eyes can't stand looking up at the sky     too bright
and when they smile the curve is straight —
     even crooked teeth forced into place
everyone wants to tighten up in the corset of beauty&success

an office worker jumping the corporate skyscraper
floor by floor — the window washer following his progress
bottle by bottle
of windex, and     (doesn't even like the job)

already beautiful women putting on faces
layer-piled-layer of exotic concoction cosmetics
till their heavy skin is too-tall in painted pretense

every semi-suicidal high school kid
trying for a little bit of cool
but they can't afford the clothes
instead pretend to be     apathetic

these people make themselves into a sameness     but why?
don't want/care/know enough to say
they don't like the current trend
they don't like their current life?

only the dead should give ambiguous opinions
     (ultimate indifference)
laying in the ground without a thought


Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The New Literature




How many of you out there read comics? What about newspaper cartoons? Graphic novels? Manga? Any sort of illustrated narrative at all?

After seeing the successes of Bill Watterson, Frank Miller, Alan Moore, and Harvey Pekar, I'm starting to believe that comics have a future as our new printed medium. It used to be scribbles on walls, stone columns and other frieze-type things. Then came scrolls, followed by hand-written hand-bound books. Eventually printing came about and since that time we've been cranking out page after page of type-set material to read.

The transmission of information started out as oral, but as technology progressed it has become visual. Now as we move into this new millenium pure text cannot convey enough anymore, fast enough anymore. We need more information, more associations. We need a new narrative.

I think that comics are it. The new literature has arrived.



Starting all the way back with Krazy Kat, comics have been influencing our culture until its culmination with Schulz's The Peanuts. Since then, the door has been wide open, from Calvin & Hobbes to Sin City or American Splendour. Even lowbrow manga and cartoons have become increasingly more responsible for the transmission of our world's myths and legends. Enculturation comes with panels instead of chapters now, folks.

Some might argue that comics (I use the term broadly to include all types of illustrated narratives) will NEVER replace classics such as the Iliad or Paradise Lost, and maybe not even less literary pillars like Catcher in the Rye, Crime & Punishment, The Great Gatsby, or Cat's Cradle. Comics are too mundane, too easily swayed by the demands of their audience. A graphic novel is just a fancy word for cheap newspaper pulp bound into a hard-cover with a dust-jacket. Manga, webcomics, and other cartoons are entertainment for the masses. They have no "artistic value".

But remember, the things that Homer wrote weren't even his stories originally. He totally stole them from a much older oral tradition before compiling them into two huge works. Note also that what Homer "wrote" was at the time ENTERTAINMENT instead of so-called "classics". Milton and Dante both wrote their work bordering on heresy. Something that academia seems to forget is that avant-garde becomes old-hat over time. What was once lowbrow is suddenly status-quo.

I say to them: read these.









Even webcomics have started to make an impression, both for their greater artistic creativity and content that reflects our modern, technologically-influenced zeitgiest.







(Sorry for the deluge of images, but I just wanted to give you as varied a selection of comics as I could find the patience to assemble in the two hours I spent writing this post.)

Anyhoo... so sure, maybe Tolstoy or Steinbeck are irreplaceable pieces of humanity's literature NOW, but give it a few more decades/centuries/millenia/whatever and then we'll see what's being called "classic" and what's nonexistent.

There may come a time when we'll learn about radical politics from V For Vendetta, and discover the struggle of man against fate from Berserk. Instead of the Aeneid or Theogony they'll use Neil Gaiman's Sandman to explore ancient mythology and legend.

I for one, cannot wait.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Subdivisions of the Nerd World


I came across this HILARIOUS graphic while trolling the worldwidewebs tonight. It basically breaks down every geek into stereotypical profiles.



What types fit your life? If you can't find AT LEAST five then you're too cool to be a loser.

Here are mine:
1) Nintendo Geek
2) Indy Geek
3) MMO Geek
4) Webcomics Geek
5) Book Geek
6) Lego Geek
7) Anime Geek
8) Band Geek
9) Jedi Geek
and 10) Larper Geek

Is it sad to embrace the essence of dweebosity? I think not! Be proud of not getting laid in the pursuit of that one perfect moment when you reach lvl 70 at Warcraft or watch the last episode of Inuyasha.

(I'd say it's better than sex, but that might not be true. My experience is a little sketchy.)

Saturday, February 14, 2009

2012 is: The Slutocalypse


I have lost all faith in the next generation.



And myself for watching them.



This marks the death of childhood and the birth of childhoochie. I'm crying inside for all the future date-rape victims of the world, for all the parents who will find out their coworkers are masturbating to their daughters during downtime. I am crying for all the over-assed dance moves and tissue-paper filled bras.

These girls represent the young slut before her prime. Soon she will grow real breasts, and her dance moves will not look cute for trying but straight-up whore-style. Her hope is to suck dick better than her friends, so they can't steal her man. She will listen to Britney Spears unironically, and think Lil' Wayne is actually hip-hop. Then, one day you will fall in love with her "come fuck me" eyes, but she'll break your heart by getting falling-down drunk and hooking up with a random guy.

God help us all.

***This is pedo-approved content***

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Lions and Tigers and Bears - oh my!




Ya'll remember The Wizard of Oz, right? Remember Dorothy's companions? Lion, Tinman, and Scarecrow. Of all the characters in literature, these three represent - allegorically, metaphorically - the basic archetypes of humanity. Lion had heart but no courage. Tinman had brains but no heart, and Scarecrow had courage but no brains. I could find the pages & passages to justify my interpretation of the text, but it would only be a waste of time. If you're not following me by now, you'll never get the point.

Anyways, most people are Tinman. They're educated. They're assembly line-workers put together be assembly-line workers. From high-school to college to married to kids, whether it be in a cubicle or a factory. But they have no heart; they cannot have true emotions because all of their existence is tied up doing the same thing over & over - gas prices, kids, credit-card debts, rent, "how long has it been since we had sex?" - and its taken away their ability to really feel.

Then comes Scarecrow. These are the ignorant good-natured folk from the country. They live in small towns. They farm, watch the super-bowl, and generally think America is the greatest country on Earth. They don't delve too deeply into politics or other current issues. They have opinions but no reasons for them other than convention. They're the ones who fight in the army, navy, etc. They're the ones who stand out in the middle of everything and get torn to pieces in their ignorance, because like the namesake, angry flying monkies just don't register as a threat.

Finally there's Lion. This one might seem misleading, but Lion represents social movements: activists, enviromentalists, feminists, protestors, anti-consumerism, anti-globalization - liberals and leftists. They have such passion for their causes, and often enough, this eloquence is mistaken for intelligence too. They feel so strongly about how the world SHOULD be run, but when push comes to shove, they fold. You can hear them roar for a better world, but when the time comes to actually fight for it, work for it, make it happen, all they can do is cower, muttering something about better things to do. (You might contradict this by pointing out the many successful social movements, but these are different in that they incorporate individuals who embody these ideals, instead of adopting them because they're so fucking opinionated... kind of like me.)



In fact, I could extrapolate this out so that Tinman represents emo kids. Scarecrow could be a soldier. Lion would be almost every politician in the world. Frank L. Baum's story offers a multitude of opportunities for methaphor and allegory. That's tbe beauty of great literature - it allows for different interpretations. Even if some of them are wrong.

But when it comes to truly understanding humanity, there is no metaphor or allegory. There are no examples or lesson-plans. Experience is the best teacher, and even that is uncertain at best. Because reality is way too complicated for a complete picture. There aren't enough words or colors to contain it all. No one piece can represent everything that exists in the world. No one truth is the whole.

But, damn, FLB sure got close.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Embarrassing myself in public


So, I don't know if ya'll know this, but I'm SUCKER for romantic-comedies. I've seen Love Actually maybe a couple dozen times, also Lars and the Real Girl, Wristcutters, Slumdog Millionaire, and Dan in Real Life.

Oh, and recently He's Just Not That In To You.



Well, first thing I noticed when I walked into the movie theatre was that I'm basically the only guy there by himself... it's all a bunch of girls with boyfriends/gayfriends/regular friends. I sit down with my popcorn, soda, and a bag of Skittles feeling about as awkward as a dangling dollop of spit on someone's chin. Seriously, it was weird and I knew that everyone there thought I must've been gay or something.

Anyways, the movie starts and it's fucking hilarious!

***Spoiler Alert***



The characters are all mid-thirties-looking upwardly mobile professionals of some sort trying to figure out their relationships - or lack thereof. And they all have at least six degrees of seperation from each other. Sounds pretty basic, right?

The thing is though, for some reason this is funny. I mean, really really funny. And if you know me, then you know when I laugh, it's loud. They should call me Laugher. The sound is something of a cross between a donkey braying and a goose honking - only worse, because it's coming from a human which tends to freak most people out. (I'm not sure why...)

At one point, Scarlett Johansson's character is trying to seduce Bradley Cooper's character and so she jumps into the pool, naked. The man is tempted - and, really, who wouldn't be? - but decides to simply watch because it'd be wrong since he's married. (He ends up caving in anyways later on in the movie.) So, in a bit of flirtatious swimming, she rises up in the water before diving down. Now, she's NAKED here, so her breasts almost come up out of the water for everyone to see. Almost.

That's when I make the loudest groan ever. Or moan... it was a grmoan. It was a grmoan of longing frustration at nearly having seen something as impossibly amazing as the boobs of Scarlett Johansson. Except, I did it out loud. In a crowded theatre. EVERYONE heard me and started busting up laughing! There was just an explosion, and the epicenter was my humiliation.



Yep, I am really that much of a loser that I'm THAT guy, even in a dark theatre.

But there was something else that the movie talked about that I wanted to bring up. Later on, Ginnifer Goodwin's character has this big speech after being rejected by this guy - played by Justin Long - she thought was into her only to cruelly slap her down. She talks about how maybe she's awkward and makes stupid mistakes and gets hurts, but she's still closer than he will ever be to finding Love, because she cares. She cares enough to do the stupid shit, to play with the fire and get burned. She is, after all the heartbreaks, still a human being, while everyone else just plays the game because they've given-up.

Now, is that not just fucking strange? To see a real gem, nay jewel, of philosophical insight into the modern day problems with people looking for Love. I mean, it's completely obvious to anyone with a brain, but seeing it there in a movie like other people knew about it... I was amazed. I was flabbergasted. I was vindicated like a motherfucker.

I KNEW I was right to be this insanely suicidal about loving someone.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Songs from a past life


Do you remember who you used to be?

Can you recall the type of friends you had? (Bandos and drama-kids) What kind of clothes you wore? (Blue jeans, black shirts) What your favorite mixed soft-drink was? (Pepsi-Mountain Dew-Dr. Pepper) Who you had a crush on? (Erica Rohr, Brianne Aronson, and probably Renee Cloud, because everyone did)

Do you remember what music you liked?

See, I can remember so many little details from my life, memories of certain events, and flashes on old flames. But when it comes to who I really was, I don't have a fucking clue.



But maybe if I go back through all the things of my past, then somehow I'll recover that oldself and be able to save it. Why? Because I miss me like crazy right now. I miss how I used to be... even if he wasn't so amazing. He was good. He was great.

Here's my very own highschool musical soundtrack. All the stuff I listened to back in the day.

1. The Ataris, Blue Skies, Broken Hearts...Next 12 Exits - Broken Promise Ring
2. Armor For Sleep, Dream To Make Believe - Kind Of Perfect
3. Box Car Racer, Box Car Racer - I Feel So
4. The Get Up Kids, Something To Write Home About - I'll Catch You
5. Jimmy Eat World, Songs For The Brokenhearted, Spangle
6. No Use For A Name, More Betterness! - Room 19
7. The Offspring, Americana - Pay The Man
8. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Californication - Californication
9. Saves The Day, Stay What You Are - This Is Not An Exit
10. Third Eye Blind, Third Eye Blind - Jumper
11. Incubus, Make Yourself - Stellar
12. Sublime, Sublime - What I Got
13. Sugar Ray, 14:59 - Someday
14. AFI, Black Sails In The Sunset - Malleus Maleficarum
15. NoFX, Punk In Drublic - The Brews
16. Coldplay, Parachutes - Yellow
17. Thrice, Identity Crisis - T & C
18. Coheed & Cambria, In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 - Blood Red Summer
19. The Black Heart Procession, A Three Song Recording - Song About A ...
20. The White Stripes, White Blood Cells - We're Going to Be Friends

Yeah, that's about all I can remember. Wow... I had mostly really bad taste in music back then.

I guess you could say I was depressed?

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Can you really put that in a book?


I want to blog about something that I think deserves a little recognition: trashy genre fiction.

What, might you ask, is that exactly? Well, it's basically a novel in the fantasy/sci-fi sub-genre - y'know, swords, sorcery, aliens, advanced technology, epic battles, cunning wizards, brave warriors, evil scientists, strung-out mercenaries, etc - but with a subtle twist: sex.

Yes, I said sex. These novels feature lots and lots and LOTS of slutty heroines/damsels in distress macking it with their male co-stars. (These are usually called the Fan Service parts of the book - because they give the fans a little "service".) The author will describe female's bodies - and often the mens' too - intensely and realistically, giving the appearance of the writing you'd find in your basic trashy, dirty, kinky, adult-book store. Sometimes there are even full-on sex scenes, where the characters actually have do it in the text... and then the author even gives us the narration of the afterwards. (Smoking appears infrequently. But there's ALWAYS onomatopoeias of moans, groans, and other sorts of post-coital sounds.)

Actually, these books are probably best compared to premium cable television - the action, the drama, suspense, and, of course, the skin.

Here's a partial list of choice trashy-fantasy (and sci-fi) novels.




Peter F. Hamilton writes a Space Opera with a spiritual twist. Souls of the dead return to possess the living! And humanity must fight against it. The only problem is: to get rid of the possessed, you have to kill the person who has been possessed. The universe is sweeping with literally hundreds of civilizations mentioned in the trilogy. And between all of it is a lot of characters getting down & dirty. (Humanity employs genetic modifcation generally without restraint, allowing for some... interesting possibilities.)




Piers Anthony writes with puns like they're going out of style. (Which, they are.) The Xanth novels describe a bizzare world where magic is in the very ground. Centaurs, dragons, wyverns, winged-unicorns, love springs, castles, daemons, and the occasional broken fourth-wall, his books will make you laugh out loud from sheer randomness. Most of the nudity is casually introduced, and then just as casually made fun of. Characters NEVER do it in the narration - but everyone is always trying to!




Jacqueline Carey presents a world where fallen angels procreated with men (well, actually with women - but you get the point) and the result is a new society that follows the doctrine: "Love as thou wilt." And they do! They're more sexually liberal than a porn-star. Heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, and BDSM are all featured in the series. Marriage is treated from reverent to innocuous. The story overall is an eclectic mix of high-fantasy, religion, and medieval soft-core pornography.




This one is my favorite. Jim Butcher writes a modern-day noir fantasy. The protagonist, Harry Dresden, works as a wizard-for-hire, dodging bullets and supernatural creatures to get the job done. Like all detectives, he attracts more than a few ladies in trouble - and just like all detectives, he can't help but describe their heaving bosoms and elegantly crossed legs. Even many of the villains are dead sexy - literally. As the series progresses, the tantalizing scenes get more and more intese. At one point two of the main characters have sex throughout the ending of a chapter, followed by them talking over how good it was!

Anyways, that's all I've got for now. Read at your pleasure... I mean, leisure.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

A gamer's life





Once upon a time I was a gamer. (Yes, I know, I seem so... normal.) I remember playing games by Blizzard from the time I woke up on a random Friday morning and not sleeping at all really till Sunday night. One semester I didn't go to school for four MONTHS! (Senior year of high-school. But I still managed to graduate with a 3.0 average.) My diet consisted of hot-pockets and coca-cola - provided I took the time to get out of my chair and GET the food.

Such strange years those were... oh man. It's been such a long time since then it seems, but other times it feels like only yesterday I was grinding an MMO and throwing down stacked-matches in RTS.

Anyhoo... Here's a video that was pretty famous around the World of Warcraft circuits back when the game was still relatively new. This was when I played the game OBSESSIVELY. Seriously! Nearly flunked out of college, twice.



Is that not the most epic & hilarious thing ever? Or is it just me and my skewed sensibilities?

Fuck it. Here's another hilarious one that was presented as a final project for someone's animation class.



And now something for my love of video-game soundtracks. A beat-boxing Mario flutist!



Yes, I am a sad, sad man who has nothing better to do with his time other than look at lame stuff like this... even though I actually think it's really cool.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

New threads


Please forgive us while we update our zeitgeist.



As you can see, new layout, new looks, new titles, sub-titles, headings, sub-headings, and all that... stuff. My cyber-space text-platform is SO much better looking, ain't it? I figured it was time to go with a more fashionable culturally relevant approach to spreading the ethos of Saboteur Academia.

Don't hate.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Lawlcat pictures tiem!


Sorry, but I lurve lolcat pictures. Why do I lurve them? It's because of the juxtaposition of cats, which I consider to be sneaky, evil motherfuckers who'd watched you die in a pool of your own blood & shit while they walked by wondering if you're going to feed them, (Dogs go get HELP at least) with the completely randomly hilarious situations people get/find their pets in.

Here are some of my personal favorites.











And, a lolcat's video! Enjoy. (I'd apologize for the music, but since it's so damned hilarious, you won't mind anyways.)



Now, finally, the grande finale! (Was that redundant?) The funniest cat video. Ever. Period.