Congratulate me. I just won my childhood back. As a child I grew up in a devout Christian home of limited means. It was this winning combination that muscled me out of my original Nintendo Entertainment System. Basically I stopped playing with it for about twelve days and so my parents decided to give it away. I'd gotten it for Christmas a couple years earlier, during what we call the "good years," where my parents had pretty decent jobs simultaneously. My cousin and I each got a brand new Nintendo. And this was back when they were fairly expensive. I was kind of annoyed because it wasn't the kind with Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt, it had some lame sports soccer/volleyball game with it. But I wasn't about to complain. Anyway, so I discovered awhile back that people are always selling these things, ranging from the very cheap to the very expensive. I think I made a pretty decent killing- complete NES with Super Mario/Duck Hunt (and gun), Super Mario 3, Tetris, Zelda, and yes, my lame sports soccer/volleyball game. For 60 bucks! And two controllers I believe, which was a luxury. So bring food, and we'll play games all days on a big TV in surround sound, or put on a nice CD when you get to the level you can't pass.

The other day I was thinking about when people are all, "hey, is this yours?" or "were you at the blah blah blah the other night" or whatever, and it's obvious that they're just making up something so they have an excuse to talk to you. I've been thinking that this is really profound and priceless. We've all done it, and it's a truly amazing thing. The desire to spend an eternity with that person is in you, at that moment. Enough desire to use up an entire star. Once you get over that there's the ridiculous notion that it's chained to an excuse, a social requirement like an elephant chained to a wooden post. The trick is for two people to have this same desire at the exact same time. We call this "chemistry."

I had a brutal Friday night. Nothing would suffice. I thought about taking up drinking but it would only complicate things. I'm mourning my life, you see. Becoming dead to myself. I'm having this revelation about being a Christian. I try to be a good Christian, which is really kind of fruitless and redundant. But I'm grasping the simplicity in just "Christian," and the pain of petrifying. Losing the life to find it, as it were. Being a Christian is ridiculous, really. Literal, as in worthy of ridicule. But nobody brings up the fact that it is sheer and undeniable genius. I was going to post an old story, because I'm too lazy to think up a new one. And I'm a little upset with my school, they keep hatin' on my fiction, yo. I'm haunted by my last one, which is peculiar behavior for a creation. I think I made up some interesting people, which I didn't mean to. They keep talkin'. I'll have to make a sequel.

Lurked around, sent some messages, changed my status.

As most of the people I graduated with (or was supposed to....LOL) is on Facebook, I decided to lurk and see what they were up to.

Well, let's see:

1. Three are engaged or married...or so their status and happy pictures say. They could be lying, though.
2. Most are still in school (college...mostly of the CUNY variety)
3. Some have graduated.....out of (say) 70, only about 10 have finished their Bachelors.
4. Most are working low end/dead end jobs regardless of finished school level
5. Most are single
6. A few had kids...
7. A lot of them have a love affair with booze and other...recreational things.
8. Some are looking for sex (!)
9. A few haven't seem to have done anything much with their lives since HS. Not school, job, or general life-wise. Kinda sad, I must admit.
10. A lot of them seem to be unhappy with their lives (join the fucking club) and don't know what to do with themselves (maybe I should start a club?)

All in all, an abysmal bunch of losers we are, for the most part.

It seems to be a generational thing...there was Generation X, and we see to be Generation Why? As is, "why do I have to go to college when I can't afford it" or "why work/go to school when I can mooch off my parents" or "why should I worry about the future? It might all end pretty soon anyway".

These seem to be common sentiments not only amongst my old classmates, but the whole 18-25 yr old demographic.

All the turmoil going on (the failing stock market, the ever-rising prices of gas, food, and other necessities, the fucked up American govt) certainly doesn't make the situation any better. In fact, it seems to lend itself to the common state of apathy we seem to be falling into.

Is there a remedy in sight? Yeah, and Mother Theresa was a whore....?

I am not the best person to ask for a happy-go-lucky outlook for the future. I'd be the first person to start singing REM's "It's the End of the World as We Know it" when asked that very same question.

OK. I love tangents; back to what I was saying about my classmates above.

Of the few who are actually doing well for themselves, I am about glad and envious of them. Glad 'cause it's always good to know out of all the fuckups, some of us had the drive and gumption to do something. Envious, because at 23, I am a college dropout-cum-community college slug [who is in educational limbo] who still lives at home....my only consolation is my decent job; I can say with much certainty that I make more than most people my age...and I don't make much at all.

Sad, isn't it?

The times we live in.

Looking at Facebook got me all nostalgic. I'm thinking I should have some kind of impromptu high school reunion; would be nice to see all of the old gang togther in the flesh.

I would shock more than a few people...that would make it all worth it in the end, I think :)

I had my first bible study on Monday. It was shite. One person showed up. But now it's official. I was born to teach.

so I was toying with the idea of graduate school. I know I just got out but it's not like i'm going back in the womb. just adding a little pizzazz. The real world by itself is so 80's. in two years I could be teaching at the college level. and I can put off paying those loans. Adding more debt, I know but at the same time doubling my salary bracket so it still counts as an investment. I've got a good rapport at Belmont. They match my learning style. All I know is, that when I was in school I was living. I am out of school, and I am dying.

So that's that. The deadline's July. The TV's on now and a rather countrified woman on the local news just used the word "dastardly." You go girl.

But guess what else? Belmont has graduate programs abroad...

Hahahaaaa. Arrivaderci, bitches.

... as you may see on the right. Mind you, I did crash and burn a bit the following year. I was a great guesser of what would be in exam papers, tailoring my revision accordingly, and got lucky in 1958. Unfortunately I was off in my predictions for 1959.

Europe in the XIX Century was first published in 1940, then revised in 1952. That revision is the one you see on the left. I chose it as part of my prize because it covered the then Leaving Certificate course rather well with lots of neat summaries, maps and diagrams, and is written in a style that is refreshingly lacking in pomposity. It still has its uses.

There are some things about it that bring a grin or a cringe when read today, however. Take the following:

The second great field for European expansion in the nineteenth century was the Far East. The countries in the Pacific were far more wealthy and attractive than the savage no man's land of Africa, but they were also for that reason more difficult to penetrate, and quite impossible to retain as colonies. For a time guns and machines gave the Europeans their own way, and China and Japan had to  do what they were told. European supremacy, however, was only temporary because the people of the east were quite as intelligent as their conquerors, and soon learned to turn the new mechanical inventions against their inventors. In central and south Africa, on the other hand, Europeans have never lost control because the black races are too backward to combine against them...

Oh the things people took for granted! I would not call Ayerst out for egregious racism, though it might appear that way; rather he was reflecting what was then "common sense" -- that is, beliefs very widely shared and rarely questioned. His sang-froid about Africans was shortly to be tested, wasn't it?

There is a handy glossary of political terms in the back. Here are some choice examples:

• COMMUNISM, COMMUNIST: Originally the same as socialism (q.v.). Thus Marx's 'Communist Manifesto' of 1848 might equally have been called 'The Socialist Manifesto'. Since the war it has been applied to those extreme socialist parties which are in agreement with Russia.
• SOCIALISM, SOCIALIST: A society in which the means of production (e.g. mines, farms, factories), distribution (e.g. railways) and exchange (e.g. shops, banks) are owned by the whole community and not by private individuals. It is usually said that in a socialist state everybody would do the work for which they were best fitted and everybody would receive whatever they needed, as far as the resources of the community went.
• CAPITAL, CAPITALIST: A capitalist is one who owns capital, i.e. the means of production such as factories, machines or money with which he employs people to work for him.
• FASCISM: Fascism has two meanings: 1) the present Italian system of government [That escaped the 1952 revision!]; 2) any roughly similar system of government, e.g. the National Socialist system in Germany. Fascism differs from (a) Conservatism (q.v.) because it endeavours by government interference to improve the position of the wage earner at the expense of the private capitalist; (b) Socialism (q.v.), because it is strongly nationalist (q.v.) and allows private property; (c) Democracy (q.v.) because it replaces parliamentary or responsible government (q.v.) by unquestioning obedience to a dictator.
• DEMOCRACY, DEMOCRAT: That form of society in which everybody has an equal share through their votes in the choice of a government and in which all men are treated equally by the government irrespective of their race, religion or wealth.
• REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT, RESPONSIBLE GOVERNMENT: Representative Government exists where the citizens are consulted through a parliament which makes the laws. Responsible government exists only where the citizen through parliament can get rid of a government or minister of whom tey disapprove. It is possible to have representative government without responsible government, e.g. in Germany before the war, but not vice-versa.
• SEPARATION OF POWERS: The system by which the executive, legislative and judiciary are each independent of the other and of equal status, as in the U.S.A. In England and most other countries either the executive or the legislative is usually supreme.
• CONSERVATISM, CONSERVATIVE: A person, political party or belief aiming at keeping things as they are or restoring them to their former condition. The objects of conservatism, therefore, differ from country to country and from generation to generation, e.g. European conservatives in 1820 were opposed to nationalism (q.v.); today they encourage it. [He may also have noted that in the 19th century conservatives were opposed to democracy; it may also be noted, by this definition, that Chinese adhering today to the position of the Communist Party and the memory of Mao are conservatives -- which indeed they are, in that context.]
• LIBERALISM, LIBERAL: When spelled with a small 'l' liberal means one who believes in the greatest possible freedom for the individual -- particularly freedom (a) to carry out his business as he likes; (b) to express in speech and writing what views he likes; (c) to have a share by his vote in the government of his country. When spelled with a capital 'L' Liberal is the name of a political party, usually a middle-class party, which tries to secure these privileges.
• INTELLIGENTSIA: The highly educated part of a nation. Often used as a term of abuse.

Fascinating stuff, I think. And yes, I spotted all those generic third person singular masculine gender pronouns... Another of those unquestioned assumptions of the period.

I note here that Ayerst went on to write in 1971 a history of The [Manchester] Guardian newspaper, and that he lived from 1904 to 1992. On reflection, that means that he was 55 when I was trawling his book for the Leaving, ten years younger than I am now...

Pues la semana pasada me puse a jugar algo de Castle Crashers, y decidí checar el Marketplace para ver que había de nuevo, se me había olvidado por completo que el 1ero de Octubre salía Megaman 9 (aunque semanas atrás ya había salido para Wii y PS3), así que nostálgicamente me decidí a descargarlo.

No me agradó la idea de tener que haber utilizado 800 Microsoft Points en un juego que utiliza los mismos sprites, música y estilo de juego de la era 8-bits, pero que diablos, es Megaman tal y como lo recuerdo.

Los stages que logré jugar antes de sucumbir ante la fatiga del día, fueron los de Plug Man y Jewel Man... y realmente me transportaron a esas épocas donde los juegos eran realmente difíciles, donde tus saltos debían ser precisos y tus vidas contadas, algo así como Megaman 2.

Todo ha regresado, el clásico sprite de Megaman azul pixeleado, el Dr. Light y el Dr. Willy, Roll, Rush, Beat y hasta Fliptop, los enemigos con cascos amarillos de construcción (forgot its name), los bloques que desaparecen y que debes de memorizar para poder pasarlos, las bolitas de energía y hasta las puertas que suben y bajan en las entradas de las guaridas de los master robots.

Este juego es realmente nostálgico, tal vez no valga su precio en cuanto a un juego next-gen, pero sin duda tiene un fuerte valor sentimental en el corazón de los gamers que han estado con Megaman desde su comienzo, además de que puede servir para que los nuevos gamers que sólo conocen a Megaman EXE, Megaman X y a Zero se den cuenta de como se hacían las cosas "en los buenos tiempos".

Oh My God... I'm Old.

Gdy po raz pierwszy wszedłem na stronę Flashtro, to od razu przypomniało mi się jak ludzie kiedyś zdobywali sofcik dla swoich maszynek. Człowiek szedł do najzwyklejszego sklepu komputerowego, legalnie prosił o cennik a w zasadzie spis, bo ceny każdy dobrze znał, gdyż na wszystko były takie same ;) Po chwili wiedział już co go interesuje, przeliczał to na ilość sztuk, zostawiał dyskietki i dalej w zależności od ruchu w interesie, albo laski sprzedawcy - wracał po góra godzince i wszystko na niego już ładnie czekało. To był dopiero wolny rynek ;D

Natomiast najśmieszniejsza w tym czasie była dekoracja takiego sklepu. Spis wiadomo - leżał na ladzie ;) A za ladą stała gablotka, z kolei w gablotce ładnie poukładane, WIELKIE pudła z tak zwanymi: oryginałami. Było to coś tak irracjonalnego w tamtym czasie, że nawet sprzedawca, gdy się go zapytało o cenę, wyrażając przy tym chęć zakupu. Wręcz, się na taką „bezczelność" oburzał, gasząc nas wyuczonym na pamięć zdaniem: „Po co to Panu, skoro mogę nagrać to samo za ułamek ceny tego wielkiego pudełka?!?". Uruchamiał X-Copy PRO i temat się kończył. :/

Co ma wspólnego z tą całą historią, wymieniona na początku strona? Już wyjaśniam. Flashtro jest niczym innym jak zbiorem produkcji Cracktro czyli Crack intro. Bez nich a ściślej bez ludzi stojących za nimi i robiących to co robili w tamtych czasach. Taki spis leżący na ladzie mógłby nie istnieć, bądź byłby bardzo odchudzony ;) A jako, że spis wcale nie był kilku stronicowy tak i Flashtro może się dzisiaj pochwalić nie małym zbiorem tych perełek, które zdobiły każdy tytuł.

Oglądanie, oglądaniem. Ale jak pobrać interesujące nas Cracktro?

1. W FireFoksie klikamy: Narzędzia \ Informacje o stronie
2. Przechodzimy do zakładki Media i w kolumnie Typ, odszukujemy Osadzony
3. Zaznaczamy i klikamy Zapisz jako...
4. Dalej FireFox, albo jakiś SWF player i śmigamy z twardziela!

*HHHAAHAHAAAHAHHAHAHAAAAAHHAHHAAA....THAT'S funny.

3 1/2 days into adulthood I was doing this inward panicking. like, is this all there is to it? like I'm on the wrong train and going miles and miles in the wrong direction with no stopping point. But obviously it's just inward now because I know there'll be a stop, and I know that there will always be trains. And perhaps I'm on the right train and panicking for nothing. Christmas was nice but a lot like sex for the first time. Short. mostly. I guess it's back to real life now. I keep this written journal and for some reason I thought I'd reached a threshold where I would make a conscious effort to make it really real and explicit and gritty and offensive and bold. That week I left it at a family friend's house. What do you suppose that means? Being that it's extremely uncharacteristic of my life I assume it has to mean something. So I have my own living space now and I truly truly adore it. It's quickly become this haven for me; it's like the inside of my brain or something. And I'm going through this phase where I want to show it to everyone and tell all the stories behind every thing that's there because I think it cool. 95% of the things I think are cool are rubbish. Blah blah blah. I think being away from school is slowly turning my brain to something less dignified than mush. (Yes.  And you will write less and less.)  There are like, zero challenges around me. No one calls. I don't know what to do. (I  think this is very cute, this whole thing.) I tried to buy lingerie today. I don't know why, the implications are always external: what good is lingerie if there's no one to show it to? But I think there's more to it, especially for women; it's an exercise of some kind. I ended up not buying anything of course, I had a funny feeling that anything from one of those tiny hangers would be no match for my ass. I rarely think of my dimensions as positive. I observe my body as a large, potentially destructive vehicle. Not like a tank or anything but maybe like a forklift or one of those big things that pick up dirt. Unique and most assuredly useful but certainly nothing that you would want to show off or use to reflect your status in life or, you know, valet park. Funny how people see themselves. If someone else told me that about themselves I would say "what the hell are you talking about." All in all life is well. I'm going to buy a massive tv and home theater system, I think this will improve my mood and help take my mind off some things that can't seem to stay buried. It's much harder to cope in the winter.

I have been so overwhelmed lately, in my mind. I'm not getting enough sleep because I'm so wound. Today I scoured the vicinity for furniture. I nearly turned pale today which for me is a feat, my teacher still hasn't signed my drop/add form for my class, one more day I had to spend flirting with the possibility of not graduating. I've been unusually surrounded with incompetence this semester. I will be glad to be free of it, in whatever form it takes. Though if I do not graduate the dejection I will feel will be unmatched and irreversible.  Wow, that graduation situation was for real.  I really thought I was in trouble.  It's like watching some random kid's story line in a high school drama.

The last day of classes was unseasonably warm . It was tranquil. (omg I remember that day!  My last day of school ever!!  I was a student for 15 years and then it was over.  It was so strangely sad!!) I walked away from my last class wanting to walk back but continuing forward anyway and feeling weird. What was I walking toward? For the first time ever I didn't know. The next day I had an interview and in the middle of it I realized that this was a job I could really love and there was hot heat in my face but I had to look professional even though I'd stopped listening to be excited and make plans and was feeling guilty about it. What are the odds I would find the perfect job the day after my last day of college? I felt very small and blessed. Two hours after my first interview they called me to schedule a second. It was like we had a crush on each other! For me, there is true evidence of God when you receive something you want but never could've thought about asking for. I haven't lived long enough to know that this was the kind of job I wanted. It had to be given to me.  Oh my dear...honey.  That job is shite you will soon find out.  But before it turned to shite it was truly a blessing. 

I don't know if I mentioned my cute little apartment last time. For awhile I was looking for these large, affluent-looking places but then I realized that noticeably humble is more my style (I loved that freaking apartment.  My little apartment!). The idea of having my own space causes a personal pride, like getting a bike for Christmas. I'm just shrouded in this bizarre shade of excited that is constant and very gothic. A heavy kind that requires a great amount of attentiveness and responsibility. I have a fear of becoming "like my father," and this makes me very ashamed because I'm almost sure that I've associated with him all things "bad," and all things bad are those things deemed so by my mother (snap). I'm in the middle of this battle for my own mind; I wish to conquer it by becoming independent and making many decisions bravely and in secret. I feel like I'm responsible for living life mistake-free on account of my parents making so many, or so they believe (snap). Yet everywhere I turn now there is the potential to fuck up systematically.

Everyone keeps congratulating me. No one tells you how exemplary it is to graduate from college until you've actually done it, which I suppose is purposeful. I've blocked out the fact temporarily that I will owe money for life. I can't absorb that after this week I'll not have another summer vacation (oohhohohhooo...but you will!), or an excuse to skip or a cancelled class. I don't want to absorb that. But I think this yoke will be easy. I have become active steward over my life. I have become so proud of myself.  Well soak it up ho, because it's about to rain shit.  You got about...seven months of pseudo happiness left.

Though I've completed my report on Petrarch, my 8-10 page paper has yet to commence.  I've put it off for a week now which is majorly unacceptable.  But I just can't seem to get a grasp on what to do.  Be that as it may, I am still going through his 366 canzoniere trying to spark any interests.  None yet, unless I can write about how his poetry rips my heart out.  He loved this girl that he's only seen once, according to some, and then she dies of the Black Death, coincedently 21 years to the day of their meeting.  263 of the poems are written while she's alive about how wonderful she is and how miserable he is without her and those are plenty powerful and then...and then.  103 post-Laura's death sonnets.  Killer.  It makes you want to...do something drastic.  Bear your soul, shove your heart down someone's pants, cry and go outside and smell the grass.  I would post one but you'd have to read a good portion of them to really get that tragic feeling that I don't know why we sometimes try hard to experience.  It doesn't feel good, tragedy, yours or anyone else's.  But somehow it does.  Or you just want to feel it.  It just feels. 

Last weekend I found an apartment I like.  It made me very excited.  But then it made me very exhausted to think of all the things that need buying.  Essentially I have no possessions and not much family and friends that I know could contribute.  It takes money to buy many things, and this is very annoying.  I fucking hate money and this is not good.  Any unbalanced relationship with money is not good.  Frontline did a story on Wal-Mart yesterday about how it was basically the devil.  I should've known.  I have so many bloody things to accomplish, I can't be wastin' time here.

I was thinking about my closet today. I threw out all my winter clothes earlier in the year because they reflected my low self-esteem phases and were thus too old. So now I have, like, five sweaters and that's about all, and it's to the point now that I almost dread having to wear them so just now, watching a girl pass in a red and brown argyle sweater I realized... I...need...patterns. I need lots and lots of patterns. Hundreds of dollars worth of patterns. Right now. Which is a great impulse to have immediately following a Budgeting Seminar, n'est pas? I'm glad I went, aside from the fact that it marks my very last convocation requirement, indeed a joyous accomplishment. Indeed, it's actually got me psyched about my "live poorly for a year" idea. Debt consolidations rocks... me! The dose of pending independence has a euphoric, adrenaline-related effect. Like being awake during your own bad car accident, I suppose. Be that as it may, it still doesn't diminish the fact that I will probably be buying winter clothes on my dangerous but yummy credit card later today. If my job pays well enough, I can be poor without really noticing. I'm so good at being poor, and I like to keep it to myself the fact that sometimes I actually like it. Because people take advantage of that you know, even the saintliest. It's really a sick thing to witness, one of those things that keep me out from under that "humans are basically good" umbrella. I made the mistake yesterday of trying to explain further these benefits of poverty to a group of people that have never been poor, and it didn't work. They completely shut down and basically said "shame on you" before moving on to something less difficult, which is what usually happens to poor people in life so I suppose I should've known that. I have to be careful becoming so comfy with people sharing bizarre things in normal atmospheres, even though that's what people truly long for. I don't feel like I have the stomach to be me sometimes, I have the reserve of a Bronte sisters' book character. It's like being a vampire and unable to stand the sight of blood. Sometimes it's like my mind shuts off and I can't not speak. mon intuition. ne devient-il pas comme le feu dans des mes os? It looks so much more sophisticated in French. I've taken necessary measures to begin sitting up straight. Because I've always wanted to.

*I should look back on that credit card moment and chastise myself knowing what I know now, but I can't.  I remember buying those winter clothes.  I still have some of them.  I bought them for the simple fact that I had the notion to do so.  It felt fucking great.

So...the people have spoken. No recounts, no chads neither pregnant nor hanging, the fate of the next four years has been decided and so far things have been pretty quiet. I trust we can all be civil human beings for the next four years, nothing dirty? "Float on" by Modest Mouse is a good post-election song to listen to. I recommend it for those of you who need soothing.

So I applied for this job that I really want and this is sort of the first time in my life that I have been under the stress that is potentially being rejected by the job market. Had a hott dream about a friend last night. I shall e-mail him tonite. As opposed to "tonight." I don't know. My life's being pretty interesting right now.

I'm having this real power struggle with my mother. I find myself trying to establish identity in the most minute ways. I am happy that this is happening naturally. I've come to draw a motherly affection for my tendency to be a very late bloomer, which is wierd to think of yourself somehow in a motherly way, I know. Surely I'm not the only one. Perhaps it is the Christ in me. Homework? What's that?? Senioritis this certainly is not. It's more like...how can I think about Petrarch when my future's hanging in the balance. We talked about censorship in class today and it occured to me that a lot of people's coolness is hanging in the balance if we get rid of censorship. Like, who will be there to say they're so deep compared to the rest of the world if there's nothing to gripe about? Who will we know to listen to, to be shocked by? How will controversial movies promote themselves now? How can one be edgy when there's no edge? Go against the grain when there's no grain? I've always said boundaries are where the freedom is. People are thick. I need to read this stupid book.

When I started contributing to this blog I was under the impression that I'd be able to use it as a development diary for an amazingly awesome game that would seal my name in the history of the internet. Unfortunately this magnum opus doesn't seem to want to show itself, so instead I'll have to write about my latest MAGS attempt.

The MAGS competition is a Monthly Adventure Game Studio competition to use Adventure Game Studio to create a game in one month (or actually 25 ish days) which will then be voted on by AGS forum users. Each month has different rules set by the previous month's winner.

My MAGS record is a little varied. My first attempt (bird theme) got canceled after a couple of days work. My second (inovation theme) made it to demo stage (i.e. completely unfinished but in a playable state). My third (Christmas theme) succeeded and won that month. In my fourth (retro theme) I discovered just how complicated writing a platform engine was and didn't get anywhere near finishing. Now I'm on my fifth with a stone age theme. So here's the plan: I'll try and get my game finished for the 25th of October so that I can enter it into the competition, but regardless of how long it takes to finish I'll write a few posts along the way detailing where I am with it.

For the moment here's a title and a depressing progress bar of sorts...

Erk the Caveman: Adventures in Stone Age Real Estate
Story: |||||||||| 100%
Background Art: |......... 10%
Character Art: |......... 10%
GUI and Item Art: .......... 0%
Scripting: .......... 0%

To read more detailed rules and to follow the progress of this month's MAGS go... here

Oh yeah, and please do drop by Ben's blog

Thinking about how we were able to improvise in that way got me to thinking about improvisation in a musical context, which is a whole different thing. Our ping-pong playing apparatus came about because we were 'making do' with what we had available to us, and would not have happened if we'd had a regulation ping-pong table. (Although I don't remember anybody having one in their home in those days.) But musical improvisation isn't just a case of simply 'making do' -- it's a process of discovery fed by individual initiative, and has always been vital to the growth of music.

Obviously, every type of music throughout history has had many instances of improvisation. Even in the era of Mozart's perfectly written and arranged musical pieces, conductors probably had to occasionally slap down an adventurous soloist, but modern music - especially jazz - has thrived on improvisation. You could even make a pretty good argument that jazz couldn't exist without it.

We probably all have our personal favorites from among an almost endless roster of innovative jazz artists, and I'm not going to even attempt to come up with any kind of list. But what I will do is focus on one type of jazz improvisation that I especially like, and point to a musician who was very, very good at it.

I've always found it very special when an accomplished instrumentalist takes a familiar, established standard and turns it on its ear, following a path that ranges far and wide while still keeping in touch with the basic melody. One of the best I've ever heard at that art -- just happened to also be named Art.

Art Pepper was one of the greats, an alto saxophonist who was a contemporary of Charlie Parker but had an entirely different musical signature. As one of the stalwarts of the 'West Coast Sound', he turned in several decades of brilliant performances, while repeatedly fighting drug problems -- and serving prison terms related to his addiction.

His life provides a fascinating story, one that I would encourage readers to pursue, but it is his music that remains his legacy. In the years before his death in 1982 he seemed to have conquered most of his demons and his music was better than ever. A good example of his improvisational genius is from that era. It's "There Will Never Be Another You," an old standard that Art turns into something magic.

The art of improvisation -- demonstrated by a master.

Amazon

So, I did what any aging punker would do to avoid the younger generation of torch carriers.

I went into the bar, knowing they couldn't follow. I drank a Guinness, ate some tacos and watched baseball on TV.

But, honestly, it wasn't all that bad. Reggie's Music Joint (the bar portion of this glorious establishment) had really good food, fantastic record titles embossed into the tables and an old-fashioned cigarette vending machine next to the bar (not that I smoke but I think everyone can agree seeing that kind of relic is worthy of appreciation).

And the show itself was phenomenal. Forgiving the place for it's strangely contured interior, where standing behind a pole or falling into a trash can is a real possibility, Reggie's Rock Club is a a guilty pleasure place, a hidden treasure where being young is only a pair of Chuck Taylors away. Smashed against the rail at the front of the stage, I was stepped on, spit on and punched.

11 years old now, she is...

she used to live with us...

she used to be this baby who would play with me...

i remember going in the crib with her...

sad...

she lives a city away now...

she was the closest thing to a little sister...

a little sister i always wished for...

she's now grown up...

so be it...

"Cozzy's Club!

Cozzy's Club!

Everyone wants to join Cozzy's Club!

If you're at home

Or in the pub

Everyone wants to join Cozzy's Club!"

Well it's back, new and improved, in the form of a web-site! I urge you to visit by clicking here.

15. My Art - Evil Frog - The frog represents the forces of global capitalism, the goggles are the dreams of hungry orphans. What does it all mean? Think, think and think again.  Your world will be changed forever.

14. Mr Burley in the Year 2007 - Mr Burley completes a fact file that lets us all in to his inner sanctuary.

13. St Helensian for Beginners - Lesson 3 - Can oo speak de Sint Hilens langoo-age? If not, read this, and it will help.

12. How Posh? - Just a small description on just how posh I is.

11. A FAB Tribute - The first appearance of number one Fireheart fan, Chester Spangleton.  That guy rocks!

10. The Sea.. see? - A Poem - A moving poem about the ocean. Can you hear the waves crashing against my heart?

9. Mr Quiff Says… - Don't mess with Mr Quiff, he's a nasty piece of work. But with a heart of gold and he loves his old mum.

8. Goot Crow Oz - The Evil Prince spreads his wanton destruction to our antipodean cousins. At this stage, he's virtually unstoppable.

7. Sheppity Yeppity Yep - Another Poem - So complex, yet so simple. Even I don't understand it.

6. She Shagged the FA - A conversation I once overheard showing the power of chinese whispers.

5. One was a stunner, one was a dog - A Brainteaser - A very very tricky brainteaser. Many tried to solve it but all failed. Have a read and post your theory on what the answer might be.

4. Pop Shop Plop - A Poem - It rhymes.

3. Sherby57 on TV 2: Sherby57 on TV Harder - The finest TV review column ever written. Well, in my opinion that is.

2. Bullseye Bollocks - Read it and know I'm right. It's rubbish.

1. Join ESA - Earth Song Anonymous - We have the occasional light-heared feature here at Sherby57, but sometimes we have to tackle gritty social issues. If you have a problem with "Earth Song" by Michael Jackson, then this is the post for you. Essential.

And that wraps up the voting for this month.  Until next time, don't do anything that I wouldn't do, you cheeky monkeys.

Disclaimer - This is an extremely self-indulgent feature and is a cynical attempt to recycle stuff that I have written in the past in the vain hope that someone will actually read them. Please feel free to slag off “Post From The Past” to your heart’s content.

No internet, No TV, No mode of entertainment, complete silence... and yet, one thing that was omnipotent there: Bliss

I was off to participate in the Navratri Advanced Course in the Art of Living Ashram in Bangalore. Somehow, I have always been sceptical of "Ashrams (Hermitage)" and "Sants (Saints)". It was taught to us right from childhood not to get swayed away by these so-called mahatmas. But, when my parents got involved, I knew it was different. So, when I got a chance this time to attend a 5-day course, I decided to go for it.

And I am so glad I made that decision. Those 5 days at the ashram were blissful, with a feeling of contentment and happiness washing all over you!! :) It felt so nice just to be there!! :)

Now, all the 5 days involved waking up at 6, reaching the Yagya shaala at 7 (sometimes at 6), do yoga and Sudarshan kriya (A patent of the founder, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ji, it is a kind of breathing exercise) for about 1.5 hours. You would get the break for breakfast after this for almost 2 hours. Would be needed to come back and then start meditation (Samadhi). After this would be lunch break of another 2 hours. In this, people would eat, rest or do service (Seva).

And then come back for a session on Srimad Bhaagvat. The swamiji who was taking the session was one of the most effective and powerful speakers I have seen and yet so simple! I would be very sleepy when I would come for his session and surprisingly, the moment he would start, I would go in a trance and sleep would disappear (This is quite surprising, since I cant concentrate for more than half an hour straight and am hardly mesmerised by any speaker). In that session, he would tell us about Ramayan, Mahabharat, Bhagavad Gita and also about our Vedas and Upanishads. And he would tell us how each one of these is so relevant in our lives today! Beautiful :)

After that, some more meditation, Rudra pooja and then Satsang followed by Gurudev's knowledge session! In between you would get an hours break for dinner. After which, we would go back to our rooms and sleep.

Now, for the most interesting part of the whole course: Maun!

Maun means Silence. So, we were supposed to observe silence for around 4 days, out of the 5 days! And initially, it was very very difficult. The talkative person that I am, it was a pain to actually keep silent. I have this obsessive need to always tell something at the time it happens... So usually, my family and Noobie are subject to my constant chatter all the time... Now, suddenly, you cant talk - not one word! You could only sing bhajans during Satsang, but not talk!

So, initially it was very difficult... I would try and make up for it by talking to myself in my head... That really dint help things much. So, for the first one day, I was very restless... But, then I would get so involved in seva, that I would stop noticing that I am really not talking!! :mrgreen:

My most favorite parts of the course were the knowledge sessions and seva. Knowledge sessions were very profound and interesting. They made you think. Think real hard about actual problems the mankind is facing these days. And how was it back in the days of yore! :)

And seva was the best amongst all. Ashram is one of the most operationally excellent places I have ever seen! To give you an example, on payroll, ashram has about 11 people in housing department and around 550 rooms in the Ashram. All these rooms are cleaned daily. Almost 10000 people eat in the kitchen, which includes people who stay in the Ashram and visitors. And yet, there are only 17 people employed in the kitchen.

So, who does it? How does it happen? How are all those rooms cleaned? How are all those people fed?

It is all done by people. people like u, me... anyone who visits Ashram and wants to do something for the people - wants to do seva! Seva or service could include anything from cutting vegetables to making prasad laddoos to cleaning the kitchen floor to washing the utensils to sweeping the road to picking the stones to wiping the toilet floors... It could be anything. And people who go there to do the course do it... and do it willingly. The best part about the ashram is that you are the king/queen of what you want to do - No one forces you to do anything. So people voluntarily work and make the ashram function!

I did most of those things while in the ashram and you would feel so satisfied and content at the end of it, that you would end up meditating a lot better!

All in all, a wonderful place, wonderful people, a wonderful experience and over and above that, a wonderful Guru that I have found in Sri Sri! :)

God bless us all! :)

Begitu pula Wali Songo, ketika menyiarkan Islam di Nusantara, menjadikan masjid sebagai pusat kegiatan dakwah. Ketika Falatehan mengusir Portugis dan mendirikan Jayakarta, dia pun membangun masjid. Masjid ini terletak di sebelah selatan Hotel Omni Batavia, antara Jl Kalibesar Barat dan Jl Roa Malaka, Jakarta Kota. Masjid ini dibakar oleh VOC letika menaklukkan Jayakarta.

Pada saat itu semua penduduk Jayakarta meninggalkan kota ke Jatinegara Kaum, Jakarta Timur. Di sini mereka membangun Masjid As-Shalafiah yang dijadikan sebagai markas untuk melawan penjajah. Masjid ini masih berdiri tegak, dan telah beberapa kali dilakukan perbaikan serta perluasan.

Penyebaran agama Islam di Jakarta terutama di bagian selatan Jayakarta -- telah dimulai sejak awal abad ke-15, sejak berdirinya Pesantren Quro di Karawang. Pesantren ini dibangun Syeikh Quro dari Kamboja, setelah beberapa lama tinggal di Timur Tengah.

Jadi, di mana masjid tertua di Jakarta? Sulit dipastikan. Yang jelas, ketika Islam menyebar di Jakarta, oleh Kerajaan Hindu yang kala itu berpusat di Galuh Pakuan (Bogor), para pengikutnya disebut kaum langgara. Karena, mereka menganut kepercayaan yang bertentangan dengan tradisi dan agama nenek moyang. Sedang tempat ibadah mereka disebut langgar.

Melacak masjid-masjid tua di Jakarta terdapat pula masjid yang dibangun oleh para tumenggung dari Mataram, pendatang dari Malabar (India), para imigran Hadramaut, keturunan Cina Islam dan kesultanan Banten.

Memasuki Jl Masjid I, Kampung Melayu Besar, Jakarta Selatan, misalnya, ada Masjid Al-Atiq. Masjid ini dipercaya peninggalan Sultan Maulana Hasanuddin, putra Syarif Hidayatullah. Menurut buku Masjid-masjid Bersejarah di Indonesia, masjid ini berdiri bertepatan dengan berdirinya masjid yang berada di Banten dan Karang Ampel (Jawa Tengah).

Seperti juga masjid-masjid tua lainnya, masjid ini telah beberapa kali direnovasi. Luas masjid sebelumnya dapat dilihat pada batas keempat tiang yang berdiri kokoh di dalamnya. Pada tahun 1619, ketika VOC berkuasa, keadaan masjid ini sangat memprihatinkan.

Ketika pengikut Pangeran Jayakarta tengah menelusuri Batavia melalui sungai Cikliwung dengan perahu, salah satu rombongan secara kebetulan melihat sebuah masjid yang tidak terpelihara, bahkan nyaris roboh. Sebagian dari mereka lantas memutuskan menetap di wilayah itu, sekaligus memperbaiki masjid.

Konon, masjid itu merupakan tempat persembunyian Si Pitung dan Ji'ih, jagoan Betawi yang terkenal membela rakyat kecil dan menentang kolonial Belanda setelah melarikan diri dari penjara Meester Cornelis (Jatinegara) pada 1890.

Ada juga Masjid Al-Alam di Marunda, Cilincing, Jakarta Utara, yang dibangun para prajurit Mataram ketika menyerang Batavia-nya JP Coen pada 1628-1629.

Ketika prajuti-prajurit Mataram mendarat di pantai Marunda mereka bersembunyi dan memugar masjid, yang telah ada sebelumnya itu, sambil mengatur siasat perlawanan terhadap Belanda. Dengan demikian masjid itu telah memainkan peranan penting sebagai tempat penggemblengan mental para gerilyawan Kerajaan Matam.

Mengingat sejarahnya itu, tidak heran kalau pada masa revolusi fisik 1945, dari masjid tersebut dikumandangkan semangat jihad fi sabillah oleh para ulama dan pejuang. Sehingga, daerah Marunda sangat dibanggakan dalam perjuangan RI mempertahankan kemerdekaan, karena menjadi ajang pertempuran antara pejuang dan NICA (Belanda).

Para tentara Mataram, sekalipun gagal merebut Batavia, banyak yang menetap di Jakarta. Mereka mengusir VOC dengan cara lain, dengan mendirikan masjid-massjid, sekaligus tempat pembinaan mental agama dan mengobarkan semangat menentang penjajahan. Di antara masjid yang dibangun para tumenggung Mataram, selain Al-Alam, adalah Masjid Al-Mansyur di Kampung Sawah, Kelurahan Tambora, Jakarta Barat, dan Masjid Al-Makmur di Tanah Abang, Jakarta Pusat.

Masjid Al-Mansyur dibangun keturunan Pangeran Tjakrajaya dari Mataram pada 1717. Masjid ini oleh KH Moh Mansyur, keturunan pendiri masjid, diperluas pada 25 Sya'ban 1356 Hijriah (1957). Nama Mansyur hingga sekarang diabadikan untuk nama masjid tersebut. Seperti juga dilakukan pendahulu-pendahulunya, oleh KH Moh Mansyur, ulama yang dikenal luas di Betawi, masjid ini sekaligus dijadikan pula sebagai tempat penggemblengan para jamaah tentang cinta Tanah Air dan kewajiban membelanya.

Tanpa merasa takut terhadap ancaman Belanda, pada masa revolusi fisik di masjid ini dikibarkan Sang Saka Merah Putih. Tidak heran kalau masjid ini pernah ditembaki NICA. KH Mansyur sendiri digiring ke markas polisi Belanda. Saat diinterogasi dengan tegas ia mengatakan, ''Setiap bangsa memiliki bendera sendiri, seperti juga bangsa Belanda.''

Kawasan Glodok yang selalu ingar bingar juga banyak memiliki masjid tua. Di Jl Pengukiran II, terdapat Masjid Al-Anshor yang didirikan oleh para pendatang dari Malabar pada 1648. Ada lagi Masjid Kampung Baru yang didirikan pada 1748 yang kini hanya tersisa beberapa bangunan aslinya. Masih terdapat puluhan lagi masjid tua di Jakarta yang ikut berperan dalam penyebaran Islam dan mempertahankan kemerdekaan.

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Orange is one of the best colors in the autumn garden.

It will have to sustain us through the winter.

Fortunately, we never get tired of looking at it.

Today as we contemplated the clusters of tiny fruit, illuminated by the eastern sun, we remembered how as a child we used to play under a tree — in our memories, at least, the bark was silver and peeling, like a birch — which like the firethorn possessed similar berries that we used to collect in a bucket and give to our mother, knowing that orange was her favorite color. One day, however, we came home from school and were dismayed to find the tree gone — we now suspect it was a mountain ash (sorbus aucuporia) — in its place only a stump, some flecks of sawdust and a few scattered berries in the lawn. We gathered up the last of these and presented them to our mother who, with tears in her eyes, explained that the tree had been diseased — you could see the vein of rot even in the stump — and had to be cut down; only later would I understand her reluctance to ever replace it with a new one.

-- The Gay Recluse, September 30, 2007