Periodicals

Opening the shrink wrap of a bundle of Highlights for Children magazine I realized that my children would never have the gut busting thrill of getting a magazine in the mail. I mean, I know they exist but my children are part of that emerging YouTube generation where live TV hurts their heads and endless books are on tablets through things like RazKids and Epic.

I had to wait 6 to 8 weeks (an infinite amount of time to a child) for the first issue of ZooBooks. Do you remember Zoo Books?! They came with stickers and a tiger poster and the elephants issue is free but only if you order now! And, now as an adult, wow thanks guy for a free elephants issue that you already printed. Can someone do the math? Did they only print 11 for the normal bundle and then sucker us into the getting the full 12th (one per month) by having moms call with their credit cards NOW?!

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My main stay was Nickelodeon magazine. Rememebr that back in the go -go 90s you had to pay for Disney Channel and we didn't always have it. Mami would pick and choose from the cable bill like someone saying "Wait, one second. We did not get cheese on this burger and were charged for it!" But Nickelodeon was a basic channel and that way my jam.

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Note that Nickelodeon magazine covered a lot of stuff not on the channel including this mascot fuzzy dog named Zelda that went on comic book adventures. I remember one prank sheet they included about hotels where they included a sheet of paper you could leave in the drawer of a hotel room. You know, where the bible is, right? Then as you leave you put this diploma looking thing in there that had MadLib style blank sheets of paper on it for your family name and that because you were so awesome that that room now needed to be preserved, but you (the new guests) were welcome to breath the air. There was also a Thanksgiving bingo card they included once where they told us to put a piece of inedible gristle in one square. You know, tape it over with some scotch tape. 

I didn't get Nintendo Power because the budget to make that worthwhile was way beyond my reach. I had friends for that with endless NES and SNES games. No Disney Adventures as aforementioned I was a Nick stan. Mad Magazine too which I bought only at the Amigo supermarket and sometimes even Cracked which was trickier to find and because of that felt special regardless of how derivative it felt of Mad. All the back issues of Mad and Cracked stayed in a space above my closet next to shoeboxes of Magic cards. To flick through when the power went out or before bed.

Books I Should Have Read Already, Harry Potter and Sorcerer's Stone

People find this shocking but I don't read much fantasy. I do enjoy playing fantasy but reading it, not my jam. In college I read all of the Lord of the Rings books and I was permanently scarred by the endless songs in them! More than enough. 

So, when I tell people that I have never seen or read anything Harry Potter related its also a bit of a shock. Note that being "nerdy" or "geeky" is now the culture so why would I have missed out?* Unless I actively was avoiding it. Not everyone reads comics books but everyone has seen the MCU movies, right? Harry Potter has seven core books, major movie, a theme park, spin off movies, and a rabid madcap fanbase. First book came out in 1997 so I was in the exact demographic for this book  back in the 7th grade. What was I reading then? X Wing novels, dear readers. Loads of X-Wing novels by Aaron Alston, Michael Stackpole, etc.

Decades into the HP phenomenon this is all I know about HP

• That episode of The Office where they go to the lake and pick team names
• In college the music school had this both physical and cultural cloister to it. In a campus of brutalist structure here was a concrete, glass and, wood (Yes, wood) amalgam of cubes from a lonely quad. And music school kids called everyone else Muggles. "And that means, what?" I would ask to many puzzled looks. 
• A co-worker once told me she was Hufflepuff and this coworker is very cute so I was "Oh, let me do this Sorting Hat thing" and I so wanted Hufflepuff and then I got Gryffindor. Which at the time I was majorly bummed but now I get it. 
• Quidittch is a sport in the world akin to Blitzball or Calvinball that people have leagues for.
• JK Rowling is now canceled due to her virulent anti-trans stances**

 Note I also have this stubborn penchant of wanting to see/experience things in their original media before the adaptation. Never seen any of the movies, so perfect time to read those books? . Twenty three years later I am still awkward and just read it so, lets go. 

It's fun! Loads of nods to hackneyed tropes on wizards and witches that feel quite fresh and note this is me reading it twenty something years later, after its influence has taken. I mean Harry himself is flat as a sheet of paper*** but the world is something for sure! Feeling both present (the modern day notes o video games, real world locations, trains, and holidays) and also aged and classic it all feels like an "old past." Or something from a parallel world. Lore really carries the day here with the references to ancient tomes and creatures. I now finally get those Jelly Belly beans my son loves where some flavors are gross like booger. And the collectible cards in the Chocolate Frogs? What a nice touch. These are real world super heroes. I want to explore this world more. How do they gather unicorn hair? How do they make the wands from all the wood and fibers? I want to see the Hogwarts greenhouse. More lore! MORE!

Some more quick asides

• Hagrid and Ron Weasely are my mans. I hope they don't die.
• While I chuckle at the name Slytherin (This is like Dick Dastardly), I do appreciate them as sort of this chaotic good like Esper in MTG.
• You go to Hogwarts for like umpteen years become this ace wizard/witch and then...what? Hermoine's parents are dentists, right. It seems like Hogwarts just created career academics. "Study hard, Potter. Then maybe you will get tenure."
• Ending is way too much a dues ex machina. Not even against the idea of someone swooping in and saving the day but the fade to black and then happy days that irks me. We spent five chapters setting up how shitty the Durdsleys were. Can we get a few more pages of the final battle?! 

I have the second book already tabbed so stay tuned!

*I have also never seen/read/watched any Dr. Who or Battlestar Galactica. Blog posts to come?!

**Quick aside and chain of rabbit hole...MTG Twitter is very vocal and like many Twitter cultures circular and insular with "celebrities." Many very vocal MTG Twitter folks are LGBTQ including numerous trans folks. So, that is where I learned about the cancelling JK Rowling and I will admit I have only cursorily scanned the issue but in support I will say all the HP books I got are from libraries or second hand. So, no royalties for her from me. 

***He does grow for sure just that he is more a vessel to keep the story going. 

Overheard While Watching Supergirl

"The Daxamites are powerful, but...they have a pronounced lead allergy. A well placed bullet and they are down" ***cocks gun***

Sure, but, isn't that true of like everyone? The allergy is what does them? Could I be a hero by poking them with pencils? Could they not invade the post industrial Rust Belt Midwest due to the high levels of background lead in again cities? I always knew the Great Lakes would be an excellent catastrophe refuge. 

A Horrible Habit

A horrible habit I developed in the late spring is this rollercoaster relationship with sleep and work. Around 4pm each day my boss and administration fire off projects to be completed. This is a witching hour where the mound of paperwork I need to take home feels olympic in scope. I've spent hours in the dusty building doing all the stuff I can't jam from home. Painting. Chasing this spiderweb. Counting cash and feeding the maw of payables.

4pm is also my bluesiest part of the day where its not that the day is over but we are hours away from starting another one just like it.  That's when it get something done. "Is this too hard to do?" I appreciate the sympathy but the answer is to make it work. The ends justifies the means.

By 8:30pm or 9pm I do unwind because I find 15 minutes to sleep in my children's beds while they watch video. I will often bring a book to read while they cruise Youtube before bed time stories but i rarely crack it. "I am just going to close my eyes for a bit"

Then in the living room is swoop into a nadir where the coach swallows me until I wake back at 11:30pm or midnight and shuffle PDFs to a from their digital homes. My wife has already gone to bed and these nights they smell of coffee and the wet smoke smell of a snuffed candle. I want to constantly pee and twitch my legs. And bat back emails to people. Can I text them now? Aren't you up? Where is that payroll form. I need it. You won't get paid. Why don't you want to be paid!? Are you secretly rich?

Its the summer. The kids can sleep in, but my daughter taps on my feet at 6am and says "Good Morning."

Movies I Should Have Seen Already: Uncut Gems

I too waited to see Uncut Gems until it came on Netflix because I am at the point in life where going to the movies requires the logistics of D Day. 

Do we have a sitter?

Are the kids in good enough moods? Should we give them their meds?

Is it worth it? Oh, shit! Do we have cash for the sitter!?

Is there anything you want to see? I'll see anything but up to you...

But when the movie began trending on Twitter it was a call to go watch it and be ever late to the party. This is how I win.

And the movie is good!  I'm a sucker for these 2 to 3 day odyssey type films but it is funny, paranoid, and tense. Its very anxious as layers upon layers are stacked onto the mutated get rich quick scheme run by Adam Saddlers Howard Ratner. And, yeah Sandler is amazing in the role making Howard someone who is slimy and selfish yet quite charming. He is Walter White without any of the cruelty and the actual hero of this tale.

Note this movie is a lot. It has mobsters, jewelers, basketball stars, fish, and enough low level street grifters to fill out the first few missions of any GTA game. It has Idina Menzel (the Frozen lady) in it for like 5 minutes and she is amazing in it. Kevin Garnett plays himself nearly 10 years in the past and it makes all the sense. I bet in a few years people will day this movie was based on real events. How this rock influence the NBA.

Movie steeps in the NYC culture of the Diamon District and I get the feeling many bit roles were played by non-actors just asked to play themselves. "Wanna make a few bucks? Here just say this to Adam, here. You know Adam, right?"

Also...I had no clue who Julia Fox was before this but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST  have you seen Julia Fox!? I am not one to swoon over celebrities (More of a girl next door or at the copier type person) since I realize they have teams of makeup artists, hair stylists, chefs, trainers, wardrobe fokks, etc to make them look all shiny and new but my goodness sometimes you need to ignore all that and buy the hype. And she, like Sandler, does well balancing the grift and charm of her character.

One thing I did not like was the score which is this angry Casio synth piece. Imagine a rolling boil and Moog synthesizer fucked and you get the score. And, look, I love ectronic music but considering the score is often lounder than the spoken words that sucks. I get this is part of the anxiety ( Reminds me of a horror movie soundtrack) but could they have dialed it down a bit. 

Go see it. Its on Netflix so no excuses!

Yelling

"Would you mind closing your windows? We can hear you screaming all the way down the street?"

This bolts a tiny catalyst of petty deep in my brain. "Oh sorry about that but no." Its 90 degrees out and being laid off trying to save money on utilities. 

"Well, it interrupts my day. Your poor kids. All you do is yell."

I have avoided neighbors. They are tiresome little things that all act as feudal lords of their tiny plot of land. Always mulching and having a mower. Then a trimmer and an edger.

"Well sorry Karen but THIS IS MY NORMAL LEVEL OF VOLUME. YOU CLOSE YOUR WINDOWS!"

I slam the door and my children they look up from tablets and coloring booms. "WOW! DADDY! WHAT HAPPENED?"

"NOTHING!"

"ITS

Moody Poem 1

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Tiki Bar

I have been reading much more fiction lately so here is a try at fiction. I write these while stuck on conference or Zoom calls.

_______________________________________________________________________

The local tiki bar opens at 3pm on Fridays to cater to an early crowd of suburban boomers and retirees. What had begun as small space set in a former paint store (splatters on the brick walls testament to this) had now become a beyond hip place that you need to take your grandma to and also first dates. The owner, trying to capitalize on the popularity, briefly indulged his original dream of an Italian restaurant and ordered his cook to prepare little bowls of meatballs. When fans pointed out the disconnect he made on glaze pork balls with minced garlic in a pineapple teriyaki glaze. But, that flopped so it returned to bar snacks and drinks. 

Jonas was the youngest person there at 3:15pm and felt impressive when he ordered something not on the menu. "The original daiquiri please. With the Appleton, please," and the bartender smiled and a couple two stools down shrugged and nodded before glancing back to their menus. This was as far as his expertise went on rum. And he had heard it from another customer. Its a trick he learned years ago, in the weird unfulfilled times after college and he overheard someone order a "Bud Light and Crown Royal shot."

"In order to be an expert all you need to know is more than the person you are talking to." That is what he learned from a coding guy in the basement of their shared office building.

"Is that how you solve all the tech stuff?"

To which the tech replied, Jonas never learned his name, "Well, I don't do that kind of stuff. But yeah."

His drink arrived in a fluted glass with slivers of lime pulp still floating on the top. The bartender has spiral cut a bit of lime rind and hung it off the rim. He sips on it and then pretends to be very busy on his phone. He checks the time and it is 3:27pm. He has already peaked in this indulgence with the off menu drink. Now it is just a matter of time to get until 4pm when he has to leave and be back in the office. 

The door opened to the patio outside and someone else from the office entered. This drained the already ebbing confidence from his body until it sunk into the  floorboards. 

It was Maria a sales person in line to be lead once Robert retired. She put away her phone into a baggy corduroy purse and then noticed him. They worked across offices but it wasn't a big company and nether a big space. 

"Hi. Tina tells me that you take your lunch late and now it makes sense." She didn't ask and took the seat next to him. "What is that?" she asked pointing at his drink.

"Oh, its a Daiquiri."

"Like at Senor Frogs?"

This is where having no confidence helped as he had no snobbery, "No, ha! Good one. No, its lime and sugar and rum. White rum. All in the right proportions and shaken with tons of ice."

"Its not on the menu," she said thumbing a copy of the dog eared bar guide.

"No, but they can make it. Just ask."

"Obviously. Is it good?"
And he slide the drink over and said, "Sure. want to try"

And, was that appropriate. Would she think he was weird. Trying to poison her? Drug her? What about germs? 

She did, take a tiny swig. Tipping her head forward to the bar from the far end where condensation was still unbroken. 

"Oh, that's good. I will have one also."

Jonas had a penchant for falling in love with any person who paid any attention. He was not attracted to men but they were someone he wanted to be best buddies with. He heard other men his age had the same problem but it felt, at 32 and alone, this was isolated to just him. But, he was now in love with Maria and imagining a wholesome life together AND a primal fantasy. All because of this drink. That was it.

Cosas Que Mami Dice

Here is a list of Mami sayings to celeberate Mother's Day. These sound better in Spanish

"Blacker than an wolf's mouth" aka soemthing very dark

"Faster than a crow peels a peanut" aka very fast, lickety split.

"Little town, big bell" aka someone who is s gossip. Or someone who thinks they are a bigger deal then they are. The office snitch is little town, big bell

"That is a pretty cage for such an ugly bird." aka a fancy house or car for a bad person. Or someone flexing beyond their means.. Mami usually said that as she saw old men pulling up in convertibles.

"Everyting has a solution except death." aka we can figures this out. I find myself saying this ALL THE TIME as I get older and especially in the nightmare confluence of Corona and public education.

"Peaches and cream" or "shit eaters" aka both which mean rich snobs

"At night all cats are black" aka same difference or everything's the same or a wash. Also, why my mother insisted to always have black cars.

"It's guilty!" aka its filthy. Took me years to realize this was Mami trying to say filthy in her boozy thick accent.

"Shit like a tied up duck" If you got the runs and Mami is around then you are like a tird up duck. I think its a pate reference? I never asked about these. Just went with them.

That's Fine

I routinely check my blog metrics and notice the same bead of two lonely readers viewing each post. That is fine because I don't think I have anything particularly interesting to say. I often talk to myself because I consider it my form of prayer. Hash out the situation in my head. Say what I would say if I had all the money in the world. All the courage. All the time and insight. This blog is a digital version of that. Talk to myself. Making a note to remember something that fired enough synapses into my brain to merit recording for all to see.

I've mentioned this before but sometimes I worry that people will find this blog. Folks from work. Old contacts from high school. A friend of mine started a podcast and she had my on it. I didn't mention the blog but we mentioned my Twitter handle (@garikapc) on which there is a link to my blog.

Would someone find this blog and be aghast? Or laugh at its foolishness? I would be flooded with readers! But, still just two. Which is fine as this is all just prayer. Personal but in an open air way where hopes and fears go alfot. With mine they nestle into a tiny corner of an undulating digital scene filled with stories and information. People don't have much time for the grains and that's fine. 

Making Bread

Baking bread reminds me of Nelson Rafael Perez Perez. Thats my father. His mother and father were no relation but it is horrible branding. However, he embraced it. Had the name embossed on the knick knacks of 70s and 80s middle management. His padfolio with the leather and brass label etched with it. A marble based pens holder that lost its pens. 

When I bake bread I see these tchtotkes. The logos of all the banks he worked for. Santander faux torch. The Aguadilla Farm Credit unions 4 leaf stripped angular clover. I also see him. Sitting shirtless and in slacks on a Sunday afternoon listening to music in the stark black furniture of the living room. The hair on his chest is thick and curly and he wears charcoal grey slacks. This is lounging outfit with a Schiltz beer, soemthing quite exotic in Puerto Rico. My father would have loved Ikea. The mod-wod designs to further his 70s lifestyle magazine aesthetic.

The bread machine? That was a novelty. Bought at the first Sam's Club on the island in the labyrinth traffic jams of Bayamon. It had a cylinder shape the size of a five gallon paint pocket a clear done head. I thought it a bread microwave and asked him to make the braided croissants and pretzels from the insert cook book. But I just had to watch as it stirred with a whimpy paddle stirrer and then the pre programmed rises. "It will be ready overnight."

"Overnight?!" I reacted. The most exciting part was the hot glow of the electric coils that baked it. The finished loaf was the same domes shape and obtuse for slicing. The croissants? Mami just bought those at the same Sams Club.

After my father passed the bread machine collected dust. "Died of laughter," as mami would say. It sounds better in Spanish. My singing uncle then took it. Which was fine beacuse later, when my dog had puppies, they took one for a few months and then I decided to just take the dog back one day. Now I had the second generation. From what I know, over a decade since I've been to PR, he still makes the funky loads. Dog eared bread machine books bought lifetimes ago from the old Borders in Plaza. 

When I bake I think of my father and the cookery knick knacks left behind. His electric wok. The liquor cabinet with an already ancient and much depleted bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue. I know let my bread rise 3 or 4 times. To kill time. To give the kids soemthing to smack. "Hey, son? You bored. Here smash this." 

It gives the bread a mealy airy bite that is different from the dense shell of his bread machine better. Ill say mine is better if only because of the process.

Some Fictional Swords

This was meant to be a Top Ten listicle type thing but then it ran out of gas. I realized that it was more certain poses or people with swords. So tweaked it a bit for some riveting content.

If you read this list and it sends you into a flight of fury then I am sorry. I had no clue there was a sword lobby. Thought that maybe it had died around World War 1. All that said, here are some cool swords I can elaborate on.

Crysknife from Dune

I once had an ex girlfriend try to read Dune and she read the first sentence and immediately put it back on the shelf. Its a sci-fi lovers science fiction that is a space opera with not a ton of fun. That doesn't mean they are bad, but you think you are going to get Star Wars and instead you get a dusty Hamlet except here they talk about the geopolitics of medieval Denmark. You like world building? Then Dune is your book. And, yes I am very excited for the new movie. And, yes, I know the 1984 one is awful. And, also yes, the varying sequels all have ups and downs and suffer from new Star Wars syndrome where everyone is connected.

But crysknifes are bad ass. Made from the tooth of a fallen sandworm, which is akin to a god. A knife made from god parts!! Infinetly sharp and "if it is drawn it must draw blood."  I do not dig the biological look to it. The yellowed body and hive like aspect of all the holes. Feels like a shit load of angry bees is going to come out of it.

Source: https://dune.fandom.com/wiki/Crysknife

Brotherhood Sword from Final Fantasy X

I originated the fake rule that I have told to a handful of friends (Which means, of course, you live by it) that all boys must go through a pro-wrestling phase. A related one is that your favorite Final Fantasy is likely whichever one you played during your formative years. 13 to 16 years of age I would say. For me that was Final Fantasy X.

And before we get to the hardware....I am not getting into some argument about which one is the best. Because I have only played a few and that is one fandom I do not mess with. Like, when we go to the local game store sometimes there are guys playing Card Fight Vanguard and I am not fucking with that crew. They have cards with power levels in five figures. Same for any Sacramento King fans. Those are HARD people.

Source: SquareSoft

But Final Fantasy X was that one for me so here we go. I love this goofy thing which has a lovely name of Brotherhood and bestowing it on someone shows that fraternity. The fish hook tip at the end (which I would assume, in real life, is woefully impractical. It will literally hook onto things and ruin your flow), the bubbling blue water in the body, and the little handkerchief flourish at the end all give it some steampunk water world vibes. Which is how i would describe the first few hours of FInal Fantasy X.


The Diamond Sword From Minecraft

Maybe its because you have to build the Diamond Sword yourself? Or maybe its because there is nothing stronger than it in game. There is no secret super duper platinum sword. All you can do is enhance it with magic but at a base level there is nothing stronger. But there is something very strong and EARNED about getting this bad boy. Which is hilarious considering how it looks and the frantic cartoony nature of the game's combat but this thing feels incredibly powerful. When you have the diamond sword you have gotten somewhere in the game regardless of any achievement the game tells you. Full diamond gear? That is God mode.

Source: Mojang, Microsoft

Darth Maul's Lightsaber From Phantom Menace

Ok, hear me out. Unless you were there in 1999 it is very easy to dismiss the HYPE for The Phantom Menace especially twenty something years later after endless (and mostly well deserved derision). But, it was so cool. A new Star Wars. Who is that? What is going to happen. And why does that guy have a lightsaber WITH TWO BLADES!?!? That fight in the Naboo corridors was wonderful and the visuals make it. And that double edged lightsaber is part of that. Disclaimer: I know that the "old" Stat Wars is gone and the "new" Star Wars has new canon where Darth Maul survived and becomes this key villain in all these shows and books, etc. And, that is great. Go with that. He still has that awesome sword.

Source: Lucasfilm, Disney

Stay sharp, folks!

Fleeting Time

Today I went for a walk. To further cheat death and guarantee I'm around

Longer to pay off my car

Write "From hells heart I stab at thee" on the

final check. Laugh a bit longer at memes shared by my crush. That report from work

The Pantiloni Landscaping account. Copy is

my passion. We got it. 

I take supplements. GNC is essential.

Fish oil and zinc and vitamin c

Longer to see the films soon to be leaked 

on the web. Those poor actors.

I'll fit in college pants again I've drug around every move. Cedar chest crammed with them.

On the walk, I moved the fallen branches of 

Scotch Pine away from the foot path. Twisted boughs from the trail into some strangers backyard. "There." I said. "Safe" Attaboy.

"Damnit." Stranger said. "Not again."

False fall where cold winds shimmer the ponds of water on the sidewalk

"I'm spent," gurgles the drowned grass. No more room the water takes over the dips in the trail. This valley is now a lake. For the fleeting time being.

Fish Story

One hobby I've had since childhood is aquarium keeping. Note that how active a fish keeper I am depends on the circumstances. Which, I guess, is true for anything but what I want to emphasize is the going to college is a killer for the hobby. Renting or moving three states over also jacks it up. And each time you strike your tank and reset you face the start up cost. Tank, filters, substrate, chemicals, patience, and fish.

To give some bonafides to my fish keeping I want to write about my evolution. From a single gallon unfiltered fish bowl* to then 10 gallons and 20 gallons. Ive never gone bigger due to the aforementioned. Moving tends to strain relationships in ways reserved for assembling Ikea furniture. Moving a fish tank? With the soaking weight of the substrate and water? You better be either swole, clever, or blessed with a patient (and hopefully swole and/or clever) bud. My father in law has a long neglected 50 gallon tank that is more filth than water. In its ever decreasing depths lurks a monster plecostomus the length of my forearm. Plecos (as is easier to refer to the miscellaneous species by the generic) are those "tank cleaning" fish. And that is a bold face lie because plecos do not clean your tank (they don't eat algae or poop) and are inherently messy fucking monsters. They grow to the size of the tank until, like the basement monster here, all the they can do is barrel roll in what is now a coffin of many errors.

Gaze upon my works and despair

Source

That said, I made that mistake because getting a tiny one inch pleco and turning it into a monster is a common fish keeping mistake. So is getting live bearer swordtails, mollies, or guppies that have dozens of fry gobbled by their parents. I grew about three generations before the cannibalism, not all the bad genetic cross breeding,** wiped them out.

As I learned about the fish I leveled up into caring about the tank. No more plain beige river stone but instead living substrate like black sand. This stuff comes in sealed bags with water and living bacteria. Perfect for plants. All the anxiety of gardening above ground but now do that underwater. And then success is when they get so large you need to prune them back. I got some broad leaf sword plant to flower! It had an anthurium flower look with a pale white flower and a scaly and swarthy stamen.  Marimo moss balls like green Star Trek tribbles. I don't go cheap an buy the ones that are tennis balls wrapped in moss. Eventually they grow too big and blister open so its a coiled carpet of moss on the bottom of the tank.

I have tiger barbs the size of half dollar coins that I've nursed for five years and at the peak of fish keeping I had three tanks. And a commitment to half water changes each week.

Now, I no longer have that energy. I condensed my two 20 gallon tanks into one, especially after the light hood failed on another. And it looks pretty good with a thick jungle vibe that hides the archway of my mopani wood. Got cory cats (my favorite fish) and snails to for a vertically designed tank. Wasting nothing, and to keep the good biological bacteria going, I have three HOB filters on the back of it making for a way overfiltered and densely planted/living system. For the unitaited this is equivalent to hooking up three Xboxes to make one SUPER Xbox albeit...its still just an Xbox. But you never have to delete any data!

Merging the two tanks brought a dozen or so assassin snails into the now solo tank.

What a poetic incongruity! Assassin snail! I bought six tiny ones from RMS Aquaculture*** two years ago to neutralize a plague of pesky pond snails.And, they've grown into giant (well for a snail) helical terrors.

Im going to wreck it

Source

Because, in the new tank I came across two hollowed out husks for my nerite snails! Nerite's being "good" snails bought to actally eat algae and general shuck off film from the tank. They are the secret to a great aquarium. And they are expensive, like $5 a pop for something the size of a chick pea. Here was $10 left to squander, dispatched from their life too early.

First thought? They just died naturally. But then I saw six assassin's rugby scrum style piled on top of a hapless nerite! The bastards are ganging up on the "good" snails! I had become an ecological terrorist. God letting loose the satanic serpent in the garden.

The combined tank had few pond snails so the assassins must have shucked those and then, in hungry rage, "chased" down the nerites to hollow them out.

I spent minutes (Its a small tank) knocking assassins off the stalks of plants. On top is where the nerites like the graze on the biological film of the leaves. Get down, you bastards. I will be back in...a couple of hours. I  also crushed some smaller assassins in between my fingers. But while it felt satisfying with pond snails, here I wanted to cry. Sorry, boys. But, you left me no choice. Of course, in their snail voices, they would counter me saying what idiot would not expect this. Assassin is in our name. We EAT other snails. Fuck, you snails. SQUISH!

Is anyone in the market for an assassin snail?

*It was actually a cube. It was meant for hamsters. Or hermit crabs. Really just a plastic cube with a slit top for air.
**Copies of copies of copies of copies. Ever have a professor in college who gave you pamphlets of "their" textbook. The unpublished one? Or the out of print book of which they have the only dog eared copy in the state? My fish were like that.
***Its big and has a TON of fish but there is no joy. Eeveryone who works there I swear is just minutes away from bugging out for a smoke break. A store with joy locally in the NEO is Pet's General. That is the truth.

A Play on Homeschooling

Life lessons while homeschooling


Me: What is the theme of this story?
Son: Um...oh! To not trust strangers!
Me: Yes!
Son: Yeah, like you should only trust people who are friendly. Like your mom, dad, teacher. Or a police office.
Me: Oh, yeah, but...never trust the police.
Son: Wait...why
Me: ... ***how to explain institutionalized racism, a de-emphasis on community policing, polarized social dynamics, poverty, and the allure of power to a 6 year old*** Well...never talk to the police unless I'm there. Or you are in mortal danger.
Son: Yeah, or if you are lost.
Me: Yes...or that

On Minor Inconveniences

I imagine the cells in my laptops battery to be hexagonal honeycombs interlaced with lithium and nickle. And a few have flickered out and begun to wean away the light from their neighbors. The battery is a Light Brite clown plucked of a few red bulbs on its nose. Its just bad enough. Askew but functional like the door to the patio that is swollen from the faulty weather stripping. You have the shoulder the life out of it to close. I can never be unplugged for more than 40 minutes. I carry a 10 pound semi portable desktop around with me with less a lifespan than a mayfly.
The minor annoyances of privilege come forward during this time of plague and quarantine. I hate myself for them but they remain. I confess them in my journal, where no one is sure to read them.

"Dear Diary, today the motor on the electric pencil sharpener died. I had to dig through the junk drawer to find the manual one I had from senior year figure drawing. I had no clue we had so many markers. And packets of seed. And half dried glue. Now I need to go back out to the trash."

"Dear Diary, today in the work Slack chat no one gave a like to my meme."

"Dear Diary, I am afraid they are realizing at work how I can be replaced. I never expected it, but I never expected the plague."

"Dear Diary, the fish tank begun to leak and I lost it. No one saw it but I said a Nancy Kerrigan "WHY ME!?" to the barbs and cory cats living in there.

"Dear Diary, today I wrote in a voice that is hard to separate from my own. It remind me of the most cutting feedback I ever heard. "When I read your story, all I can think of is the college fitness center. And this shouldn't be the case. Your story shouldn't be so insular. Parasitic.'"

I try to follow the advice but everything comes as a caricature. Remember, parasitic. So a confident man is indubitably a player. The kind of guy who sharks pool halls and want to wager on the second of your friendly games. "Never fall for that," told me one of my mom's steady boyfriends as we left the pool hall. "Only play with people you know."

How have my character changed? Im not sure I have, yet.

Something Scary, The Lighthouse

Spend enough time in Twitter and you find digital gangs of the like-minded. If you ever spent time on a message board in the 90s or 2000s then its like that but only centralized through effort. 

There is NBA Twitter, which is undefeated.

There is Mil/NatSec Twitter, which is humanistic and self depreciating.

There is MTG Twitter, at odds with its varying factions like some nerdy Balkans.

There is film twitter which is where I get most of my movie recommendations.

So when I saw The Lighthouse on Amazob Prine I had to say, let's go! I liked The Witch and Hereditary.

I won't be poetic and get right to saying yeah this is a good movie. Well acted with an uncomfortable intimacy that romanticizes nothing about the situation. Neat movie to reflect on during these plague times when we have time to watch and write blogs. Amazing verisimilitude even to how it is shot in some wonky aspect ratio used by camera in the old Instagram  app icon. This is a film geek's movie. Which I am not (I just dabble in all meaning I'm a C+ in hobbies) but I can appreciate the touches.

Is it spooky? Eh not really save for a very unnerving scene with the sole female role in the movie. Its a spiraling sense of woe and anxiety which is nice when so many lingering shots on the buildings spiral staircase. A rare story open to interpretation but also quite clear in what happens. Innocuous things have a malignancy to them. A seagull. A mermaid figurine. The nightly toast.

Sometimes things are good beacuse they are just entertaining and fun. This film is good because its a good story albeit not sure you will find any sort of them/allegory. The statement is that they made it.

Oh and HARK! And, monkey punch!

Fake News 1

"Please make sure to remove any contact lenses. Wear your glasses, if you need them." This came from the friendly security guard at the Corning test lab. She pulled a pen from a loop around her arm and gave it to me to sign the release.

"Oh, I don't wear contact lenses," I say.

"Great. When the tests are very aggressive tiny shards can still fly off."

It's Dr. Betty Gallo job at the Corning plant to push the latest glass to its limits. A new Pyrex glass shaped like Betty Boop? 

"That was us! Well we just used a demo royalty free cat at first but we proved we could do it. All those angles."

Dr. Gallo walks me down a catwalk over a regular din of thuds and partial shatters. Every so often its a "dung--crink" She even wear a lab coat over a hot pink blazer. No shoulder pads, however.

She still has a hint of loopy Minnesota accent in her, testament to a previous life there including a gig at 3M fibers.

Today is a Smash Day. Dr. Gallo and her team are researchers so most days are spreadsheets and models. But on a Smash day (They happen every 6 months) people can let all frustrations go unhinged.

Her team is bouncing new glass wares off varying surfaces to test durability. Break patterns. Chipping. "It's a supply chain issue. Cost too. We make a funny pattern on the glass like say paint it and everything is thrown off."

When loading the rockets for Apollo missions NASA accounts for everything to the weight of the freeze dried ice cream. One more set of dehydrated eggs and could the launch be sent on a collision course. Same for the glass. "Add soemthing obvious to you measuring dish like say a handle and we have all sorts of angles," said Dr. Gallo. We had just reached the armory.

Baseball bat, wooden.

"Beacuse now it can break different where it lands and how. Can the handle reverberate that shocks back into the glass?"

Cricket bat. In Upstate NY?

"Oh watch out this can be heavy"

20 pbs sledgehammer

She has it all. Ball bearings and rubber bands. Hammers with wooden and synthetics shafts a Dremmel drill.

Collapsible batons like police use. The "shiinnnnk" noise they make on opening is beyond satisfying.

"Everything but guns," she smiles and closes the now empty closet. "That needs some more control"

Being Cold

I've spent more time along and freezing in last 4 weeks then in my entire life. The freezing part? That was hard for the first 18 years or so. Alone? I've always been ok riding solo. That's easy for me to say as big, fat passes as white guy. But never were both factors so together as in the recent stay at home situation. I'm in the downstairs basement office with no heat except the ornery, overweight cat. She curls into a blob on the Ikea chair and wheezes, putting out low grade BTUs.

But, predominantly, I'm alone in my office. My building. The walls here have bent from years of seesaw temperatures. It takes forever for water to dry after sweeping it through with a mop. The floors stay slick and dangerous with dappled slow drying water. 

There are varying degrees of cold. 

There is the sudden chill. That one wakes you up as you feel it creep up your spine and to the top of your head. The nagging chill from the bottom of your feet as it cuts through your socks and under the tongue of your sneakers. That is the worse as its cold enough to slow everything down but not enough to kill you. It makes me miss keystrokes as I scrunch the sleeves of my sweater as high as they go over my wrists. Press my hand against furniture and it saps whatever warmth Ive built. Errantly graze a brass door knob and feel it sickle through skin. Rime forms in standing water and the drip drop noises sound thicker.

A True Story

This is a true story. This happened. In the 11th grade. I've changed names to protect the affected.

In this plague I often check my privilege.

I have food. Health insurance. Internet. Vehicles. A job. An office to be solitary in while I work. I worry about nothing save my A1C. My boredom.

My privilege is also education. Bless be my 11th grade AP biology teacher, Mrs. Manilla.

From her I learned early the difference between a virus and a bacteria. She staged a debate where we had to argue of viruses were truly alive as they were nothing but packets of genetic material. No cells. No Golgi apparatus. 

But here is the story...we were learning about reproduction. The real dry stuff, don't worry. X and Y chromosomes. Blastulas and what not.

And Mrs. Manilla told us how seven was mostly water and sugar. "Glucose. For the sperm cells to use as energy"

Then Mariela raises her hand.

Few words. Mariela was the sort of high school character they come up in movies. Gorgeous. Intelligent, in every AP class our school could muster. Even AP French. She was trilingual! She played sports, volleyball and softball. Student council. Was she made in a lab and released on all places my high school in Guaynabo, Puerto Rico?

And she says "Then why does it taste salty?"

To which Mrs. Minilla replied "Because taste buds are on your tongue. Not the throat."

Then the class went on as if nothing but you could launch a Titan missile with the kinetic energy stored from everyone trying not to scream laugh. Poor Mariela. She didn't deserve it. She was legitimately and sincerely amazing.  Just bad timing. She recovered. See all the aforementioned.

We don't deserve our teachers. That's for sure.