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Saturday, January 30, 2010

A Humble Blogger's Request

This post is for the lurkers.


Come out from behind the shadows of your computer screen! Leave comments! Make suggestions for content! And even more importantly... Become official "followers" of my blog!

If you scroll down to the bottom and look at the View Count, you'll notice an interesting trend of many many hits, but very few publicly admit to reading.

This makes me sad! (Very sad.) Ya'll need to start participating in this blogscene, or else it'll get real dull real quick. (Well, maybe not for me, but possibly/probably for you!) The whole point of Saboteur Academia is to get some saboteur academics! To get people interested in the alternative world and foster a sense of community in this off-kilter existence.

So, please, stop lurking and start participating! I want to spend hours debating obscure things over the internet with you.


Cheers

Friday, January 29, 2010

"All my songs are Love songs"



the music painted soul is acoustically beautiful
hums deep like a half-remembered melody
vibrating at the bottom of their throat
almost forgotten
almost swallowed
and yet, there echoes are established
bouncing from esophagus wall to nasal passage
around about the whole apparatus of sound
leaving only a note of a chord of this song...

sing along.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Racial Terminology



If you've been following this blog for a while, then you may be aware of my tendency to write and rant about racial-issues from a white/Jewish perspective. (If you're not, then I suggest you check out posts like: [SFMTA Racial Tensions] or [Logical Fallacies of Race-Debators]) Since I'm not officially a "minority" my comments are considered controversial -- if only because I don't follow the groupthink.

For this post, I want to discuss a term that I've seen making the rounds among the blogosphere as racial-jargon currency:

PoC, or People of Color.

There can't possibly be a more ignorant acronym than this.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Another New School Year




Back to school.
Back to college.
Back to classes.
Back to underfunded education.
Back to overpaid professors.
Back to paper, pens, and pencils.
Back to cost-inflated textbooks.
Back to midterms and finals.
Back to the hustle of homework.
Back to wasting-my-time general-education requirements.
Back to a broke-down campus.
Back to rich suburban kids talking about things they can't even spell.
Back to faux-socialist propaganda chalked across the walkways.
Back to buzzwords and jargon and other facades of intelligence.
Back to my BA in BS.
Back to my fellow students who are still too young to drink.
Back to learning new tricks as a time-fighter.
Back to another semester of struggling to understanding what I'm actually learning in this environment.

Back to the same old shit... but goddamn if you don't get used to it. Guess I've been a student so long, I've forgotten what it feels like not to be in school.


Saturday, January 23, 2010

Existential Crisis



Recently been having a mild character dilemma.

On one side, there are the "You're too nice" people. And on the other, the "You're such an asshole" people.

Both make really good points. However, I'm not so good at balancing-acts, or flip-flopping from personality to personality. Since I can't very well be both things -- at least, not at the same time -- the question is: what I am, really?

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Surrealist Ranting

What does the heavy heart carry to make it weigh so deep within our bodies?



The cares & concerns of our lives seem meaningless in the greater scheme of things, yet still we rage against the perceived scope of ourselves to make that whispered pin-drop in the galaxy. We frantic, and desperate, and multitudinous marching across the face of the Earth, like insects, like ants. Will the monuments we build last through ages? Or will the weapons we create destroy all memory of our existence?

When the world is older than the long-beards of wrinkled men, will jungles & vine reclaim the land where strip-malls once stood? Can the brick & mortar stand up to a steady wear of Time's many grains of sand? The hollow, steel-boned buildings left like the fossils of so many great beasts, will they be our testaments? When some far, distant civilization comes to our planet, will they wonder at our architecture and ask, "what was this... humanity?"

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Blogolution




As you can tell, there's something a little different about ZSA today. Is it a new haircut? Some strange perfume? No, it is none of these cheap contrivances, but the grand result of blogolution!

Yes, we have changed the layout. In keeping with Saboteur Academia's efforts to bring you the latest in the Alternative World, we have decided a makeover was needed to perk up the sluggish posture recently acquired during this winter's intellectual hibernation.

Noticeable changes aside from our appearance include a new widget engine, which will allow you access to the entire blog's content via a simple search. Simply type in the Blogodex (blog-index) whatever you are looking for, and it shall do its darnedest to find it for you.

Some of you may be wondering if all this is really necessary for a small blog like this, isolated by the grand scheme of things. Well, despite the rather poor comment output, low attendance, and lack of vocal supporters, your Fearless Leader has no intention of giving up for small potatoes like that! (We only accept defeat from big potatoes.)

So strap in your zeitgeist people, because this blog isn't going to quit yet!

(But it may be a bumpy ride of sorts, hence the safety-belts.)

Enjoy the new aesthetic, and we hope to see your comments in the future.



Cheers

P.S. Facebook users following via my notes-page will need to view source-material for any of this to matter.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Alma Desnuda / Naked Soul



Holy smokes, saboteurs! It's a review.

At the open-mic this past Friday, a sweet little four-piece dropped by like fresh pancakes, and their sound was definitely syrup.

Alma Desnuda. Or, the Naked Soul, for you monolinguals. They play an eccentric folk-funk that can only be the product of eclectic minds locked in a room with no power for days. Starving, they then create the music that is to be their escape. Seriously, when they started on that first chord in the Cafe International it felt like the Pied-Piper of Hamelin had dropped out of the sky... in spades. The entire audience was intoxicated -- more so than usual, that is -- when their subtle acoustic grooves led your spine to shaking slow as any good wave.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

a Parable, or Pahrahbel?



Once upon a time (which is a short way of saying we can't really say when this occurred) there was a man who lived on a plateau overlooking the ocean. He never left the small, one-room shack where he slept days, and nights spent searching the myriad words of various books.

Except, on rare occasions, the man would leave his shack, and walk. He would walk to the edge of his yard. He would walk around the perimeter of the plateau. He would walk down to the beach, kick his feet in the water. He would walk along the shoreline, for hours and hours. He would walk across the imaginary lines people drew on their maps, crossing boundary after boundary. He would walk until the dusk turned back into dawn. Then he would turn around and walk all the way back to his wooden shack. He would climb into the cot that was his bed, pull the covers up to his chin, and sleep another day away.

The following night he stayed inside.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Artistic Spotlight: SPRFKR

A recent discovery of mine via my best good friend G-Money, the artist known as "SuperFucker" (tastefully abbreviated without vowels like an old Hebrew text) is something akin to classy pornographic sexploitation and gratuitous grindhouse gorefests.



Combining technical styles heavily borrowed from east-Asian art, while depicting subjects of a/from a desensitized mind, SPRFKR has crafted a muse made from snakes, blood, and tits to be something actually... beautiful.

Allow me to present a small selection of various pieces from this talented artist.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

The Chalkboard Manifesto

Here at Saboteur Academia, we are always on the lookout for new, and inspiring trends in the alternative sense of the world. Whether your endeavours are academic, professional, or casual, we want to cater to your need for the kiltered versions of Life-experience.

Allow me to introduce -- and subsequently promote -- a newly discovered webcomic that shuns the intelligentsia humor of [[XKCD] while retaining its style, that embraces the strangeness of [American Hell] without adopting its overly macabre fascination.

I give you, The Chalkboard Manifesto.




Sunday, January 10, 2010

Friday Night Open-Mic Notes: 01/08/09

A week of remeeting my ex-intimates.



My new girlfriend totally called it when she said, "now that you're with someone, girls will be coming out the woodwork."

It's scary how she predicts these things. If I was just a little bit more ignorant, I might believe she was actually related to Ms. Cleo! According to the current tally, I've had close-encounters of the embarrassing-kind five times so far.

Let's make a list:

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Monday, January 4, 2010

Emotive Reflection



Anger is an emotion I don't have time for.

It seems I've been angry most of my life. Angry about school, kids picking on me, parent's divorce, family deaths, abuses, lies, cheating, thievery, forced medicated, financial difficulties, and romantic impotence... I've hated with such intensity, my whole body burned like a sun, and in the end all that was consumed was me.

The lost summers of my childhood seem even smaller than they really were nowadays, where, for a time, I wasn't pissed off at the world.

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Friday, January 1, 2010

SabAc Manifesto: Part Deuce and a Half



Frequently I am asked, "What is a Saboteur Academic?"

And the answer continues to elude me. Like the philosophy of Lao Tzu, or the rationale of Born-Again Christians. I can't understand the concepts, but recognize their existence. Similarly, I can repeat rote the teachings of the enlightened and the ignorant, but haven't grasped their meaning, or the workings of the minds in which they reside.

To quote-meld my point, let me wax Gilbert & Sullivan & Bryce Courtenay: "I am the very model of a modern major general. I've information animal, vegetable and mineral. I know the kings of England and I quote the fights historical from Marathon to Waterloo, in order catagorical." "Alas, too often, they are aided and abetted… with catch-phrases, dogma, and ready-made opinions so they gain information rather than understanding."

What is even more surprising is how common this is in the world. Sure, the idiocracy is full of depressing examples, but this particular brand of moronic is especially subversive. It hides among the shadows cast by monuments to higher learning, and infects the unprotected mind, forcibly opened or seduced in its naivete.



See, me and my peers are not smart, not intelligent, not even all that crafty, clever or cunning. We possess knowledge, but no wisdom.

[jump to continue -- click header