Ebon_Hawk's Xanga

I am alive!

Thu, 16 Oct 2008 05:10:27 GMT

Ciao!
    I felt like posting again, plain and simple; Xanga may have lost its gleam, but it's still fun to post a few thoughts every now and then. There's something to be said for the challenge of yanking your train of thought off the tracks and sending it full-steam at other people. I think of it as a sparring match between you and the English language: I want to say this, but the words revolt and say something completely different.
    Or perhaps we are the problem? We have a thousand different ways of saying something, yet we go and choose the simplest way to say it--which, on paper, could be interpreted a hundred different ways. It's our fault really, since we are responsible for dumbing down the language instead of adding to it, and using it as it was intended. Don't get me wrong--I don't think we should pile on the yeas and the neas or thees and thous, but throw in the good ol' grammar and stop saying, "D00D, k lyk OMG dat wuz tt@1y 1yk @w3s0me DOOD!" Lyk d00d! joo sown lyk soooooo st00p1d!!!1111oneone!1!

   So, moving on...     It's time to talk about acting. I enjoy acting, being dramatic, and being random and a little strange (the two go together). I'm taking an Introduction to Acting class at Chabot, and it's quite enjoyable! My teacher--an actress/director in a local theater company--is teaching around 20 or so of us various things about acting. At first, I didn't like her choice of exercises: a coordination game where the class had to keep hitting a ball into the air while counting the hits, or the time everyone had to form into a circle and hug the next person. Wait, what?! What??!!
After the weird pointless stuff, we finally got the cake: improvisation. My teacher started the class on improv scenes, some involving completely made-up dialog or actions, but most beginning with a certain action or setting. Here are a few of the highlights:

In a recent one, 5 people had to come forward and pretend to be in a car: the driver led, and 3 other people had to follow his lead and behave as he did, while a hitchhiker waited to switch with the driver. I was in a relatively tame car with a bunch of whooping cowboys on their way to a rodeo--I'm glad I wasn't in the car with the druggies snorting cocaine.
In another one, 5 people came forward as party guests and a host, with random character roles assigned by the teacher. The best party was the one with an eager photographer, a rapper, an athlete with waaay too much energy ("Wanna race? wanna race???! I'll race ya, I won, I won!"), and...a vampire. The host, an Obama impersonator, tried to smooth things out as the vampire slunk into the room and stood in the corner with his jacket over his mouth, asking for some of the lights to be turned off. The photographer picked up on it and tried to take his picture, "Smile! Wait, you're not showing up on the film! I think I'll just take some pictures from the corner over there..." The guests kept getting more and more uncomfortable until the vampire suddenly lunged at the host and bit him in the neck! Vincent, the host, writhed on the floor like he was having a seizure, got up and joined the vampire in chasing the screaming guests around the room and trying to pick them up.
The next party had an opera singer and a soap opera star competing for attention, "No! I'm the star!" The opera singer kept standing on a chair and singing "LA-LA-LA-LA!" to the ceiling in an off-key tone while the soap opera star tried to yank him down.
The latest improv called for 4 people to each speak one randomly assigned line--they had to coordinate the lines into a short scene by their actions, with no extra talking. I joined a bank-robbery, "There's cash, lots of cash!" "I really need this to work." "If you really want me to do this, I need the hat." "I'll meet you at the train crossing!" Our scout left the class room and came back, we discussed our plan, drew our guns and ran out of the class room, complete with mad banging on the doors outside and a mad dash to the get-away car carrying money-bags. I robbed a bank, hehe.

And that's it for now. End of story. Finis.

It's the ... fifth of July

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 16:11:36 GMT

How was everyones' Fourth of July? Eh?

Mine was an enjoyable day spent trotting from store to store at the Gilroy outlets. With Asians.
A friend of ours (Eric) invited Sarah and I to go shopping, and so the 6 of us split up into two groups and followed each other along the freeway (Sarah tailed us too closely for comfort!). Alright, the next time you plan an outdoor shopping mall, DO NOT spread it out into four sections! I was very tired at the end, since we visited almost every store imaginable. The sights and smells of shoes, jackets and tops became a blur as if I were stuck in an endless tour of the mall. Between my picky taste in jeans, and Eric's wanting a light color of shoe, we were there until around 4 or 5 o'clock. After all that, I ended up with two pairs of pants.

When night came, our family headed for the roof to watch the fireworks. Check your local listings and you'll find many professional fireworks shows around the Bay Area, but in my neighborhood there is a show few brochures talk about.
One thing I can praise the people in our neighborhood for, is their fireworks — they didn't just stop off at the local stand and buy a few squibs. Picture this: you're standing on a bare roof in the pleasant evening air. The sun has already gone down in a flaming ball—it's own tribute to the Fourth—and you wait patiently for the first aerial to go off; each year there is something new, and the fireworks seem to get bigger and better as the veterans hone their skill.
The first one starts off the show, shooting up in a whizzing flare hight above the expectant crowd below and bursting into dazzling fire of green or blue or red. Flashing clouds and booming explosions are everywhere you look as you rotate 360 degrees. It sounds like a street war is going on in Hayward — what the noisemakers lack in light they make up for in clamor (a few set off car alarms). You happen to be a street over from someone setting off brilliant aerials: subtle sparks shoot up, up into the night sky and erupt into a ball of colored flame in every direction like a million flash bulbs. The light blazes over every roof for a moment and dies in a second.

One street starts spouting out colored fire as if their whole firework stock went up in a steady fountain. The display ends and then begins again 20 minutes later! Somebody loves their fireworks...
After an hour and a half of glittering color in front of my eyes, less aerials go up and most of the family climbs down to break out the handheld roman candles! Oops, I mean the sparklers—but I'd like to hold a roman candle. Can you say fireworks battle?
As you watch what's left of the display, the rest of the family lights sparklers below and dances around with them, or tosses them up in the air only to see them drop and fizzle out.

Everyone finally goes inside, packs up the ladder and goes to some well-earned rest. That was my Fourth of July.

Rat-a-too-ee

Wed, 04 Jul 2007 05:00:12 GMT

Pixar has served up an exquisite banquet.

Ratatouille is a rather common dish, according to the movie — a "peasant's dish". But in the cinema, it turns into a wonderful feast for the eyes as well as the mind.

The movie follows one of the most lowly creatures. A rat. As you watch the first half of the film, the story slowly sautés and and the characters mature like a fine wine. Remy is the pièce de résistance, and he shines (no, literally) throughout the movie. He tosses spice into everything he does, whether it's running around breathtakingly beautiful Paris or stirring a pot of soup. Who knew that a rat could have flair?

The setting for this wonderful dish is a CG work of art. Pixar is a master of the craft, and they have outdone themselves yet again. I don't care what the animators say, but the food steals every shot!
Details abound like a myriad of flavors in a fine meal; all of the other characters are merely plats d'accompagnement—side dishes—but without them, the main piece would merely be a pile of raw ingredients.
By themselves they are a shallow meal, but together they are an unforgettable masterpiece.

C'était excellent!

Sunlight, sunlight so bright...

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 04:07:14 GMT

...I love the sun and its glorious light.

Part of the reason I love California so much is the different weather we have. I love the days of light when the bright sun turns even the dullest earthy-hue into brilliant, vivid color to dazzle the eyes, and the humblest pool of water into a beautiful mirror. I love the dim days when all the clouds sail the air, and when the towering thunderheads overshadow the earth and bring a bounty of rain to the thirsty earth.

I even love the weary days of humid heat, when you feel as if you are drowning in a bath of sweltering hot air — the hot air rises, but the heat weighs on your mood, and you remember not to take air conditioning for granted.
A humbling thing when you don't have air conditioning.

The freezing days make me thankful for having warm clothing, hot showers, and blankets to curl up in. Outside, the winds drive the clouds across the sky and tear leaves from the trees, making the branches shake in protest.
Inside, I curl up with a good book — when I look outside at the shifting skies and wild wind, or the beating rain, it feels so comforting to be protected. My house is a sanctuary in the storm.

Lastly, I love the days anywhere in between; maybe the sun shines half of the day, and then the clouds come to cover it. Maybe there are clear skies with large looming clouds, and then the rain showers down and washes everything clean.
But at the end is the sunset, and the crown of every day.
I love when liquid sunlight pours down on the clouds and sets the sky aflame in a brilliant splash of color; the moon moves on to other lands and the sun is blown away by the west wind.
I never forget the rare days when the light fades until you think it is gone, and then the last rays illuminate a painted turquoise sky and delicate pink clouds. God's creation is beautiful.

Music

Sun, 03 Jun 2007 05:07:00 GMT

The swirl of notes and melodies, the stream of music, of sound. I was moved by something I was listening to, so I decided to post about music.

I appreciate all sorts of music — but I go through stages where I feel like listening only to a certain genre and nothing else. Right now I'm into some jazz, but mainly instrumental. I feel that stringed music especially can evoke the deepest of sorrows and the highest of joys.

Stringed music is the song of the stars, of the heavens.

I love to listen to music at night, when I can gaze outside of my window at the night sky and at the moon. I turn my monitor off, sit back in my chair and let my emotions rise and fall with the tide of the song.
The piano is another instrument that reigns at the top of the list. It can be soft and seductive — loud and bold. You can snap your fingers to a jazz tune or tear up at a beautiful, moving piece. And then there are instruments that need to be in the right setting, such as the pipe organ. I've always wanted to hear a pipe organ inside a massive cathedral. In that setting, the organ fits perfectly; the notes are vast and haunting, and they are majestically medieval.

From the pipe organ flows an unceasing psalm that is worthy of the ages.

But what about lyrical songs? They are part of a different story. Voices add a whole different element to music, and they have the option to be the backgound or the focus. The words that they sing can persuade us, and sway us to think or to act a certain way. Along with the instrumental part, the words can lead us to thoughts that we would never find on our own.

Every song is powerful, from the lullaby sung over the sleeping infant to the advertising jingle to the screamo songs.

Life would be impossible without music — there is music in everything.

And that ends my post about music. I just said a little bit of what I was thinking of, and your thoughts are appreciated!

G'night everyone!

Poetry

Fri, 16 Mar 2007 00:22:23 GMT

I was wading through my Documents folder, reading old school assignments, etc, when I came across some poems that I had forgotten about. Finding an old poem is like finding a (yes, I know this is over-used) dear friend. A poem is like a little piece of your soul. A poem reflects your world view, and the beauty that you see in life (or ugliness).

Anyway, I decided to post some of those poems here. Some of them may be repeats, but oh well!
(The flow of a few of these may be a bit off, but you must excuse me, some of these are early poems!)

I see the moon

It shines and shines above me,

Ever so bright and pearly.

Its ivory face gleams so clearly,

As I look at the tiny island,

So glistening and so light,

I bare my soul to its soft gleam,

And think kind thoughts of the night.

Oh moon! How you alone reflect the sun!

Oh moon! You shine with the light of a thousand stars!

Moon! I sit entranced in your pure light!

Moon...your light is a caress,

Moon...your bright shadow a vision of glory,

Moon...your face a mask of pearly tears.

I see the moon now.

It shines and shines above me.

I see its tender look, its gleam of round delight,

And I gaze sadly at the pale orb,

So far far away,

And a drop falls from my radiant eye:

A gift from the moon.

______________________________________________________________________________________

My Weed Garden

I have a garden, so full of weeds -

Oh! those steadfast stubborn steeds

Of hate and menace, green with envy

Of my stolid tomatoes, beets and sundry.

Some are cloaked with flowers fair -

Others with thorns of despair.

Watching ever and anon

For honest workers to appear,

And on them leap and rend and tear:

Flowers sweet and flowers rare!

Here I have a leafy field,

Once the home of roses-red,

Now a den of thieves and dead

Unwholesome things unfit to eat -

So choked up is this plot of land,

That now I call it my weed garden!

______________________________________________________________________________________

Now this is a close-to-final draft of a poem that began as a blog post about

barbecuing.

Grilling is the entrance into a land of smoke and fire.

The fuel gas or coal, the chef young or old, the options overflow,

While the culinary flames bestow their warmth and lend their spice -

When the cooking fires grow.

Grilling is the entrance into a land of scent and fragrance.

The sauce that sautes, the fiery rays

That flavor and perfume in a delicate dance.

The savory mist that carefully obeys

The orders of dials and switches.

Grilling is the entrance into a land of order and justice.

The thermometer tells me the meat is done,

The sausage golden,

The grease has run

Down, down into the heated pit of drippings.

Grilling is the entrance into a land of baste and marinade.

The flames soar and smoke pours -

Heat will sear and burn.

I turn the valve and pull the lever,

Drench the fire and stifle the roar

Of raging blaze and scorching light.

Grilling is the entrance into a land of calm and quiet.

Put out the light and quench the fire -

The duty is done and over.

Bring in the platter, load up the table!

Fill your stomach, if you are able.

Grilling is the entrance into a land of feasting and joy.

That's all for now folks!

Geoffrey

These poems are copyright Geoffrey Machamer. You may not re-use or reproduce them without the express permission from the author.

Bush changes popular sayings...

Tue, 27 Feb 2007 22:02:58 GMT

Recently I have gotten word, that President Bush is going to be changing a few popular sayings to reflect the state of terror, of anxiety, of panic. Here are some of them:

1. “Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy a presidency.”

2. “Thanks a billion.” (to adjust for inflation)

3. “Third bribe pays for all.”

4. “A million stolen is a million earned.”

5. “Old wars die hard.”

6. “Iraq doesn’t determine who’s right. Iraq determines who’s left.”

7. “When in Washington DC, do as the politicians do.”

8. “A bribe a day keeps the terrorist away.”

9. “Better the terrorist you know than the terrorist you don't know.”

10. “Terrorism anywhere is a threat to freedom everywhere.”

11. “Sure, it's going to kill a lot of people, but they may be dying of terrorism anyway.”

And that concludes todays message!

Next up: The right way to be afraid of fear, global warming, and terrorism.

Impressions...

Mon, 22 Jan 2007 05:02:04 GMT

    I've thought that I should start posting again - and I feel like posting poetry - or poetry-related things.
One school day a while ago, my mom told me to take a break, so I went out back, sat down, and listened to everything around me. I started writing about things around me, personifying them. Here's everything!

It's not in a particular order, just sights and sounds of things around me as the day drew on....

    The traffic a mile away sounds like the roar of some far-off mighty waterfall. The shadows stretch themselves around me, hiding where the sun isn't looking. Near my feet a fly goes through some aerial maneuvers and practices his landing and takeoff in the shadows for the upcoming air show. When my gaze is elsewhere, the weeds tiptoe over to the cracks in the cement and plant themselves firmly in the space. A pile of old carpet heaped over trash bins tries to reach the top of the fence like some forgotten Tower of Babel; it wheezes and laughs at the weed's antics.
At the other end of the garden, the trees guarding the yard-border wave genially at passing birds. The shadows take no notice and mock me as I sit writing on an old yellow chair - I look like an old man with a crooked back. It looks like the spiders have hung up decorations for the upcoming party: the rosebush is festooned with webs, the wrought-iron fence strung with silk pearls. Everywhere I look, I see preparations going on - the hedge has stopped shoving the fence, the overhanging lemon tree has ceased showering the pool with lemons.

The ants, meanwhile are hurrying about, bearing the many invitations their queen has sent out. The many flying insects, not to be outdone, are planning a large show of coordinated smoke-writing. Their dress-rehearsal, with all its loops and turns, is starting to get annoying! And then, of course, the old "daddy long legs" is reciting his long boring speech of how his great-great-great-grandfather had the honor of being stepped on by Stonewall Jackson in the far-off war of the 1860's.
But I'd better leave off now, the wind has picked up some of the festive spirit and is herding all the leaves around like little children. It's getting too chilly outside, so until next time!

- Geoffrey

Re: untramelle

Fri, 29 Dec 2006 05:55:16 GMT

Hello.
This is Spam.
See Spam run.
Run spam run.

Spam spam glorious spam!
When it hits the floor,
I love the "wham"!
Wham-bam! oh spam!
The glorious meat that smells so sweet!
Puts hair on your toes
And toughens your feet!
Oh for a bowl of spaaaaaaaam...!
                   - an anonymous drunken dwarf singing about his favorite snack

    So, I got an e-mail today. Or yesterday - I didn't pay much attention to the date. But it reeked of random gibberish, various hair-raising drugs (misspelled, of course), and was signed with an assortment of the strangest names known to mankind.

So now the question is: what do you think of spam? What part does it play in our daily online lives? Does spam actually make the world go 'round?? Is it true that spam has it's own gravitational pull? (Okay, one more, is it true that spam caused the Black Plague? )
And can spam be stopped.

    Yes, spam is a menace, a threat to your sanity. And it must be taken down! In the meantime, until the great fall of spam, canned or in e-mails, we must thank our spam filters.

And that ends my random post.

- Geoff

Christmas: 'Tis the season to be jolly

Wed, 27 Dec 2006 19:22:21 GMT

..And how jolly it was!

On Saturday, my family headed out to Bakersfield, California, city of the eternal dry heat (almost!) to visit Papa and Grammy (my dad's parents). We made the pilgrimage in a mere 3 1/2 hours! We arrived a day earlier than everyone else to have the grand parents to ourselves for a bit. All-in-all, the trip was a good one: we saw old family we hadn't seen in at least two years, we ate good food, and enjoyed the company of our grandparents. Let me tell you a few things we did. Once I get the photos together, I'll post captions and all that..

    For *almost* four days, we laughed and talked, played Guitar Hero II, ate, laughed and talked more, ate again, oh-and-drank-enough-soda-to-sink-the-Titanic, had a gift exchange, and generally enjoyed the holiday.
'Tis the season to stop running and sit down - look at how family has changed, eat Christmas gourmet meals and enjoy giving presents.

    Take two families of boys (heh, can you still call a 20-year-old a boy?), a sprinkling of aunts and uncles, throw in a grandparent or two, and you have a recipe for a good weekend. The time of Christmas is when family is supposed to come together and try and get along in the same house for a few days. First, you need an endless supply of soda - Coca Cola and Dr. Pepper. Then you need lots of meat and potatoes. Hearty stuff to keep the entertainment going.
Next you need a large TV, a console, and a game or three. If you add a few computers for good measure, you're all set. Don't worry, we didn't camp out in the den much, but I must say that the TV was in demand.

    Amidst the oh-so-pleasant sound of 80's rock hits coming from the main bedroom (Guitar Hero II was fun, even though I was the worst there!), FIFA 2007 in the family room, and hand-and-foot playing in the kitchen area, cookies got swapped, cans opened and candy consumed.

     On Christmas day, when all the family was finally assembled, there was an intimidating pile of presents to wade through - all in a nice circle around the Christmas tree. As the angel on top watched over all, wrapping paper was torn up, and tissue paper rolled up and tossed like snowballs. People went around the room constantly, exchanging hugs and thank-you's. The gift exchange I would say, was a big hit. How it went was that everyone involved, in this case all the cousins, brought a gift costing $5 or under. Then every person got a ticket with a number on it. When it was their turn, he would choose a gift, and then unwrap it. The person after him would choose to either steal that gift, or open a new one - but the same gift couldn't be stolen in the same round, and a gift could only be stolen three times. So thus a stuffed toy dog, a Jamba Juice gift card and a large bag of assorted candy passed through my hands. I ended up taking a bag of Jelly Bellies and gum from the fingers of my disappointed cousin Chad, and it was finally over.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen.