tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54188762991883350142024-02-07T01:24:33.653-08:00Onyx SupersonicsIT'S A HARD WORLD, FULL OF SHARP ANGLES AND ROUGH EDGES. SO THE MOST IMPORTANT TALENT TO DEVELOP IS FLEXIBILITY.Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-64847810716718142272011-02-13T20:06:00.000-08:002011-04-30T20:34:17.334-07:00Rimbaud Tyler-Moore<ol class="statuses" id="timeline" style="color: #3c3940; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 6px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><li class="hentry u-OnyxSupersonics mine status" id="status_36534531523608576" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 0.5em; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 10px; position: relative; zoom: 1;"><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="status-content" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Who can turn the world on with her ~ jackals howling through the wilderness of thyme?</span></span></span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="status-content" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span></span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="status-content" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="entry-content" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Who can take a nothing day and suddenly make it seem ~ a season in hell?</span></span></span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Well it's you girl and you should know ~ "You'll remain a hyena!" exclaims the demon</span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">With each step and every little movement you show ~ her solitude is erotic mechanics</span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">You can have the world why don't you take ~ the vice that rises to heaven, beats me, drags me down, throws me along</span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Love is all around no need to fake ~ the terrible thrill of new loves on bloodstained soil</span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">You might just make it after all ~ to drink liquors strong as boiling metal, as my ancestors did around their fires</span></span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="status-body" style="display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 0px; overflow-x: visible; overflow-y: visible; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 425px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></li>
</ol>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-76956906459976132052011-01-21T23:33:00.000-08:002011-01-21T23:33:12.349-08:00Great List of 99-Cent Books for KindleCheck out P.T. Duck's catalog of bargain reads <a href="http://bit.ly/hUiJKf">HERE</a>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-34960174561497195682010-12-18T07:21:00.000-08:002010-12-18T07:22:21.633-08:00R.I.P. Don Van VlietFrom and essay by Lionel Rolfe, "Ape and Essence and Laura Huxley"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Along with my ex-wife Nigey Lennon, we were joined by Don Van Vliet, best known as the rock cult hero Captain Beefheart. We had been discussing drugs, the ‘60s and the high desert. Beefheart was talking about how people who live in the desert (where he was reared) are often far more eccentric than those who live on the L.A. side of the San Gabriel Mountains.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Once, as a young lad growing up in the desert, Beefheart had a part-time job selling</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> Electrolux vaccuum</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">cleaners in Pearblossom, which was not very far from Llano and Wrightwood, the desert and mountain communities that Huxley lived in. Beefheart explained it was known that the author lived in the desert, so when a tall, gangly customer came into the store where Beefheart was working, Beefheart recognized him immediately.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">Van Vliet remembered being impressed by how down-to-earth Huxley was. Huxley explained that his wife Maria had sent him out to look for a vacuum cleaner. Huxley asked Van Vliet if he could recommend one. Since Beefheart was selling Electroluxes</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">, it was, of course, an Electrolux that Huxley purchased. Then they talked a bit.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #eeeeee;">During the conversation at Denny's, Beefheart said that Huxley had seemed to him a man who was looking for something, that he was an eccentric among the eccentrics who inhabited the desert.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #555555; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><img src="http://www.beefheart.com/datharp/albums/boots/pics/dustsucker_front.jpg" /></span>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-41596415827942276722010-07-18T16:19:00.000-07:002010-07-18T16:22:59.790-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 7.18<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Chapters 1-16:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #aabbcc; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;"><a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8" style="color: #ddaa77;">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 17</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> All the lights were on inside the glass building, so it glowed in the canyon darkness as Matt and Mariko drove up to the guard gate.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The two guards inside the bungalow at the entrance to Ozawatech were immediately concerned by the late-night arrival, but they relaxed when they saw Mariko behind the wheel.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "<i>Konbawa, Ojosan. Nagai koto oai shimasendeshita</i><span style="font-style: normal;">," one of the guards said. (Good evening, little one. It’s been such a long time.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "<i>Mata aete ureshii way, Canto-san,</i><span style="font-style: normal;">" she replied. (I’m happy to see you again, too, Mr. Nortbert.) With the formalities dispensed, they switched to English and the other guard handed her a badge.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "As usual," he told her. "May I say we miss your presence?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The second guard then handed Matt a badge – with his photograph on it. Surprised, he looked up to see a camera mounted on the guard gate. It had taken his picture when they drove up. He noticed he didn't really look like himself on the badge – he had a baffled expression on his face and his reddened eyes were surrounded by dark circles, like a raccoon's. But that wasn't the camera's fault, he thought to himself. He was a mess.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Mariko drove up the road and parked in the light that shone from Ozawatech's lobby. Matt followed her through the two-story tall glass doors that slid open at their approach.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Matt had expected to find a reception desk in the atrium, in the middle of the black and white marble tiled floor. But instead of a desk, there was massive a sculpture of dark steel and granite depicting what seemed to be the waving surface of a sheet, an immense boulder and a blade.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Mariko saw Matt was curious.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "It's called 'The Spirit of Ozawa,' she said. "That’s in English. In Japanese it's '<i>Jan Ken Pon</i><span style="font-style: normal;">.' "<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "What does that mean?" Matt asked.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Here you say: Scissors, paper, stone," she said. "But it's not a literal translation. It's what the game is called.<i> Jan Ken Pon</i><span style="font-style: normal;">."<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.rpswc.com/rock-paper-scissors-hand-game.jpg" /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Suddenly, one of the walls in the lobby lit up. It was a giant-screen TV and a beautiful blonde was seated at a reception desk.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Hello Mariko," the blonde said. "How wonderful to see you again."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Hello, Gabrielle," Mariko responded. "What a surprise."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Well, it may be midnight in Malibu, but it's 10 a.m. in Paris you know, so I'm handling reception from the Champs-Elysées office. What brings you out so late?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Oh, we couldn't sleep, and I wanted to show Matthew some of the new programs."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Marvelous that Matthew gets the tour," Gabrielle said. "Can we order you some dinner?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Not necessary, we've already eaten. We'll get going now. Ciao."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Ciao," Gabrielle said. The screen went dark and Matt and Mariko walked across the lobby and down the hall to the elevator.<o:p></o:p></div>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-80039586009013365122010-07-17T17:51:00.000-07:002010-07-17T17:51:28.498-07:00High News Haiku 14<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">I AM THE GOO</span><br />
<br />
Ha! Another cap!<br />
Didn't work before so what<br />
Makes you glrrg bbbbll gglumphhh<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.worldcorrespondents.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/07/bp-oil-spill-live-feed-july-11.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-32960812613735110982010-07-08T07:50:00.000-07:002010-07-08T11:08:06.819-07:00High News Haiku 13<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">I AM THE LOS ANGELES RIVER</span><br />
<br />
Ha! Did you hear that!<br />
They call me 'NAVIGABLE!!!!'<br />
What an absurd joke<br />
<br />
<img src="http://naturetrumps.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/headwaters.jpg" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-compton-creek-20100708,0,7714848.story">EPA Calls L.A. River 'Traditional Navigable Waters'</a>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-37611116813211893842010-07-05T16:18:00.000-07:002010-07-05T16:18:58.829-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 7.5<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 16</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Chapters 1-15:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;"><a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8" style="color: #ddaa77;">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The night air of Malibu Canyon rushed through the vents and into Matt and Mariko’s faces they zoomed down the winding road. They only saw a couple of dozen cars coming toward them in the opposite direction. Each one shut its high beams on approach. No one was behind them.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of heading down Sunset to PCH, Mariko had driven over the freeways to Malibu so she could try to see if anyone was following them before they hit the canyon road. Now it seemed they were in the clear. The walls of the canyon, with fossils from pre-historic times embedded into the layers of dirt that formed them, rose steeply on their right. A ravine plummeted down to a creek on their left. A coyote darted across the winding road ahead of them, visible for only a moment in their headlights before disappearing into the brush.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matt was going to ask why she was taking the long way. But he knew, so there was no point. He'd hoped that spending time alone with Mariko would clear his head so he could figure out how to deal with Ashton. But since those hopes were now gone, he thought he'd strike up some idle conversation.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So," he asked Mariko as she leaned slightly while steering around a curve. "How's class going?" They sometimes talked about her French lit courses.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Fine," she said.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What are you on?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"The Quarrel Between the Ancients and the Moderns," she told him. "Ever read about that?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"No," he said. "When was it?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Late 17th to early 18th. You'd like it. It started with a speech Charles Perrault gave at the Académie Française in 1686. He said the Académie should stop emphasizing Classicism and start accepting progress."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Hmm," Matt said. "I'm not sure whose side I'm on."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Wait 'til you hear the whole thing before you choose sides," she told him. "Anyway, the Ancients _ the Classicists _ were against modernization because they believed the world of the antiquity was better than the one they lived in. Their theory was that man doesn't change, only the world does.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"But the Moderns said they were better off than the Ancient Greeks because they had inherited the traditions of the Classics, and could develop their own as well."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Sounds reasonable." <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"The Ancients _ Racine, La Bruyère and Boileau _ stood by their theory about the Classics being better. But the Moderns _ Perrault, Fontanelle and Bayle _ developed a theory that science and technology could change the nature of man, the world, and art and culture, too. They believed that artists' tools _ new oils for painting, new musical instruments, different styles of opera _ were changing culture. And so they were changing man's soul."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So who won?" Matt asked.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Nobody won right away," Mariko said. "It went on for 40 years. Then it became a war."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You're kidding," Matt said. "A real war?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"No, the Poetry War. It was actually called The Poetry War. Over a translation of Homer. The Ancients liked Homer just the way he was. But the Moderns wanted to do an update of the Illiad and the Odyssey. So they rewrote it, but in their version the Gods didn’t intervene. And the heroes acted more reasonably, less emotionally. Overall, they took out the metaphysical tone, turning the text into a kind of everyday living sort of thing."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Dumbing down," Matt said.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Yeah, maybe that's a fair equivalent," Mariko said. "But the Ancients didn't defend their position very well and the new translation was published."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"And that was that?" Matt asked.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Almost. The end came with an essay written in 1718 by the Abbé du Bos. It was called "Critical Reflections on Poetry and Painting."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Whose side was he on?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"His own, really," Mariko said. "He was an individualist."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So what did he say?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Believe it or not, his theory was: There's no accounting for taste."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Is that where they get that saying?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I don't know, maybe. That's probably not exactly what he said. His theory was that determining the value of an artist's work could only be done by looking at it and deciding if you liked it."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So that was it?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Yeah, that was the last word, really. So what do you think?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"About what?" Matt asked.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Well, does man change when the world changes? Is the Chumash Indian who rode his horse across the chaparral here 200 years ago the same as the guy who can fly the space shuttle into orbit? Or do these two guys have different kinds of souls?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"That's a good question," Matt said.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The BMW pulled into a driveway and started climbing a winding road passed a sign that said Ozowatech. Mariko turned to Matt.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Yeah," she said. "It IS a good question."<o:p></o:p></div><!--EndFragment-->Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-37081168590681752322010-06-22T06:01:00.000-07:002010-06-22T06:05:17.139-07:00High News Haiku 12<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">COUPE DU MONDE</span><br />
<br />
Ah, the French; they are<br />
The world's most complex athletes<br />
They defeat themselves<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.lequipe.fr/Medias/Football/201006/430x313/la-une-de-l-equipe-samedi-19-juin.jpg" /><br />
<br />
(Player Nicholas Anelka to Coach Raymond Domenech at half-time: "Go f--- yourself, you dirty son of a whore.")Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-8207413933900751792010-06-17T08:18:00.000-07:002010-06-17T21:40:42.275-07:00High News Haiku 11<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">THOMAS KINKADE'S DUI</span><br />
<br />
Shorry offisher<br />
You've seen my cheesy paintings?<br />
You'd be drinking, too<br />
<br />
<img src="http://lipna.files.wordpress.com/2008/01/thomas_kinkade_oil_painting.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-71387285152004992732010-06-14T17:56:00.000-07:002010-06-17T08:21:55.732-07:00High News Haiku 10<span style="color: cyan;"> I AM THE GOO</span><br />
<br />
"We will make this right"<br />
Ha! Stop it, Tony, stop it!<br />
You're cracking me up!<br />
<br />
<img src="http://assets.nydailynews.com/img/2010/06/03/alg_bp_hayward.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-78375073621915196962010-06-13T09:57:00.000-07:002010-06-13T09:59:13.921-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 6.13<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 15</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Chapters 1-14:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"> <a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Mariko kneeled on the bed, looking out over the freeway as the two streams of colors – yellow headlights going north, red taillights south – moved like two lava flows in opposite directions as the sky turned dark.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> Matt moved behind her, brushing her hair away from her neck and kissing her where the white silk of her collar touched her skin. He reached around to unbutton her blouse and rubbed her breasts.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Mmmmm," she said. "You're in the mood?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Like you said," he answered, thinking about the Chinese finger-trap. "Maybe I need to relax."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "It's an idea worth considering."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> She turned and kissed him on the mouth, then lay back on the bed. He pulled the rest of her clothes off and massaged her feet, watching her body glow in the fading orange light of sunset that filtered through the tinted window. He kissed her, caressed her and licked her from bottom to top, then turned her over and moved from top to bottom. Then he lay on his back and pulled her on top of him. They made love. When it was over, she stayed in place, her thighs resting on his hips, her head on his shoulder.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "I hope your theory worked," he said.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "What theory?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "The finger-trap."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Oh."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "I'm pretty relaxed now."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Works for me.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> Mariko got out of the shower and put on the white terry cloth hotel bathrobe. She was drying her hair with a white towel when she came from the bathroom. Matt was standing by the window looking at the jewel box.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><a name='more'></a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> The room service tray had already arrived. Mariko walked over to it and started making herself a seafood crepe. She offered one to Matt.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Crab with wine sauce?" she asked.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Only if it's real crab," he said. She couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so she looked over at him and saw him holding the jewel box. Her eyes widened.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "How'd you get that?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "By default," he said, but wondered why she was so alarmed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> Mariko put down the crepe and the serving fork and took the jewel box from him. She pushed the dots in a combination, a tiny motor spun with a whir, and the box popped open.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> The box was lined with red satin. It held a circle of gray slate dotted with gold patterns.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "A 2604," she said. "Who knows you have this?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "A few people."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Who are they?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Not important."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Do you know what's stored on it?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "No."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> She thought for a moment.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "We're leaving," she said. She started picking up her clothes to get dressed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Wait a minute. You know what it is?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> "Fourteen gigabytes and a Hafferman anti-copy algorithm. I'm not surprised you're in trouble."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;"> Matt followed her out of the hotel room, down the elevator and to her car. He didn't ask where they were going as the car pulled out of the hotel, onto the boulevard, and then back on the freeway.</span><o:p></o:p></div></span>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-40888615412022646082010-06-06T14:27:00.000-07:002010-06-06T14:27:57.511-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 6.6<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 14</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">Chapters 1-13:</span> <a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving south from the test site under wisps of white clouds floating high in the sky, Matt didn't know if the hint he'd got from Phillipe would be enough for Ashton.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I'm not sure this gets me in the clear," he told Mariko.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You'll have to tell him it's all you can get for now," she said.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"But I know what he'll say. He'll want to be sure. He'll want more."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Well, you've anticipated his response. That's good. Now you can prepare yours."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"That's the problem. I don't know how. It's like one of those Chinese finger traps. The more I struggle with it, the worse this all seems."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mariko thought for a moment.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You've found your answer again."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"How's that?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"It's like a Chinese finger trap. What do you do to get out of a Chinese finger trap?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Actually, I forgot. I'm not sure I ever learned."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You relax," Mariko said. "You just relax."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://www.hotellink.co.uk/images/hotel-photos/us/us-022901e00.jpg" /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Standing at the back wall of the lobby of the Angeleno, Matt had the pay phone stuck between his shoulder and his ear, head tilted. He didn’t want to use his cell; he thought that Ashton could have technology capable of overriding any blocks he activated. His conversation was going as he'd expected.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"It's all I could get."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I need documents," Ashton shot back.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You didn't say anything about documents," Matt said. "I don't know if I can get them. You just asked me to find out. I did. At least, I gave you the best inside information I could get. Are we done?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Not hardly, kid. These deals have a paper trail. There are memos, draft contracts. As we speak, the attorneys for all the executives are cutting buy-out deals and their stock packages. I need some of that to show my, uh, partners in this project."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"You just asked me to keep my eyes open. You made this sound like it would be easy."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"So, it's not easy," Ashton snapped. "You're a tough guy. You like a challenge. This should make things more interesting for you. Get me what I need."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I don't know if I can. And I'm not sure I want to."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I think you can. And I think you want to. Look at it this way: You make some easy money. And then we're even."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"What do you mean we're even? I don't owe you anything."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Let's put our cards on the table, then. I arrange financing for a lot of these movies you've been working on around town. If you don't want to get fired off every set, then, yes, you do owe me something."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matt had suspected as much, but because Ashton hadn't brought it up, he hadn't fully considered the possibility and its consequences. So he decided to stall for time by adopting the strategy he'd charted with Mariko.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"This has taken some of my time and a lot of my energy. After that burglary at my girlfriend's house and the shooting in Santa Monica, I figure Yamura's place is being watched and mine might be too. I'm at the Angeleno off Sunset at the 405. I need you to check me in. I'm going to stay here until this is all over."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Fine. Give me a minute to call the front desk. Take the run of the hotel, order anything you need. Just get me some paper on this deal by tomorrow."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ashton hung up before Matt could say thanks or goodbye. Or what he really wanted to say, which was: Kiss my ass.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matt and Mariko had to wait along the wall in the hotel corridor while a wedding party passed, a crowd of well-dressed people filing into a nearby banquet room. The last in the line was a kilted bagpipe player, blasting a lilting melody over the droning low notes.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-13579635563980418132010-06-01T13:19:00.000-07:002010-06-01T13:24:13.782-07:00High News Haiku 9<span style="color: cyan;">I AM THE GOO</span><br />
<br />
Ha! I can't be stopped!<br />
I'm spewing into the Gulf<br />
You see me from space!<br />
<br />
<img src="http://image3.examiner.com/images/blog/replicate/EXID5738/images/NASAOilLatest.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-2388682674112521082010-05-30T19:10:00.000-07:002010-05-30T19:10:15.112-07:00High News Haiku 8<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">I AM THE GOO</span><br />
<br />
You think I'll stay put?<br />
You punched a hole in my roof!<br />
I'm here for revenge!<br />
<br />
<img src="http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/5/25/1274743330764/BP-faces-criticism-over-t-006.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-28135898186183210692010-05-30T07:08:00.000-07:002010-05-30T07:10:25.494-07:00High News Haiku 7<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">I AM THE GOO</span><br />
<br />
You cannot stop me<br />
With your top-kill, cones, pipes<br />
Now I coat your coast<br />
<br />
<img src="http://media.oregonlive.com/news_impact/photo/bp-oil-spill-gulf-of-mexico-governor-jindal-louisiana-c1ef43ff0f158c8f_large.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-42606555391134794792010-05-25T06:48:00.000-07:002010-05-25T06:48:39.952-07:00High News Haiku 6<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">I AM THE GOO</span><br />
<br />
You sucked me up from<br />
Under the floor of the sea<br />
Now clean up the mess<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.oneinchpunch.net/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/crude-oil-spill-clear-up.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-70665799633976534532010-05-22T22:50:00.000-07:002010-05-23T13:56:23.220-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 5.22<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 13</span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Chapters 1-12:</span> <a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The shining silver cube stood about the size of a small house, surrounded by a set of nine white parabolic discs, one larger than the rest. A blue haze hung over the mountains in the distance beyond. Other than that there was nothing but the alkaline sands of the dry desert lakebed in view.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Several men in white lab coats were moving from disc to disc. A voice over the loudspeaker announced: "Clear the area." The men all walked away. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The loudspeaker voice then counted down: "One minute warning." Then: "Ten second warning: Then: "Three ... two ... one."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> A red laser beam shot in a circle from disc to disc, then – amplified and concentrated by the main disc – bore into the cube, instantly and silently. Only a moment later, there was a loud click as the laser shut down. A hole about six-feet in diameter had been cut through the middle of the cube.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Cheers, applause, hoots and hollers broke out from a crowd of about 100 standing behind Matt and Mariko, who had front row seats on the bleachers. Some of the engineers, probably the ones who had worked the hardest on the project, shouted "Yee-Haw!" and "Hot Damn!" and threw their hard hats into the air. Then the technicians, politicians and executives started filing down from the observation deck to a reception area off to the right, under the control tower. A group of black musicians on a makeshift stage started playing a conga-driven hard rock beat, chanting the name of Yamura's company _ "Ozawa! Ozawa! Ozawa!" _ over the pulsing rhythm.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Well," Yamura turned to Matt. "What do you think now? No poetry in corporate life?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Still a little groggy and trying to catch up with what he had just seen, Matt struggled with a response.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Can we go look?" he asked Yamura.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Let's," Yamura said. Mariko followed them across the cracked surface of the lakebed over to the cube.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "A perfect circle,'' Matt said, looking at the hole in the cube.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "We'll have to get it bigger, of course,'' Yamura said.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Why?" Matt asked. "It looks like it could blast apart anything that you needed to."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Not necessarily," Yamura said. "It's supposed to be a space-based anti-meteor defense. Meteors – or even some comets – get pretty big, you know."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I've read about this," Matt said. Then he thought for a moment, and smiled. "But, say, if need be, you could point it back at Earth if you wanted to take out, say, Tehran. Or Pyongyang. Or Tripoli."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Yes, that's what they say," Yamura said. "But really, we started working on it after Shoemaker-Levy hit Jupiter. That comet had only been sighted a couple years before. There was a reason to revive some of the "Star Wars" technology, you know, space-based laser defenses, and point them away from the Earth instead of toward it. I've worked on this 15 years. Who knows, maybe it'll save the world one day."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "And if it doesn't?" Matt said. "Or if it destroys a city instead?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Well, I guess either way, I'll have done my job. And I'll have to live or die with whatever results I've produced, even if the consequences are unintended."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Matt turned back to the cube and recited:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i>"Pour us your poison, it is soothing<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i> While this fire burns our brains, we go<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i> Into the abyss, Heaven or Hell, how amusing<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i> To find the new, what we don't know."</i><span style="font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Yamura tilted his head.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Ah, Baudelaire," he said. "Sublime."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "You know it?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "The last lines of 'Death' from 'Flowers of Evil.' One of my favorites," Yamura said, then turned as a man in a white shirt and bright print tie approached them, small clouds of light dust kicking up around each of his footsteps. "A Frenchman," Yamura announced. "This is appropriate."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Mr. Yamura," said the engineer. "Nice to see you."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Nice to see you too, Philippe," Yamura said. "We were just talking about Baudelaire with Matt here, Mariko's boyfriend. Learn any Baudelaire?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "In high school," Philippe said. "We didn't do Baudelaire at the college of mining. Mariko's new boyfriend?" he asked, shaking Matt's hand. "Hello Mariko," he said to her. "You're a lucky guy," he continued, turning back to Matt.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I know," Matt said. "Thanks."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Yamura touched Matt's shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "See you at the buffet," he said, turning to walk off. "I've got to, you know, shmooze." <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Mariko had already started her conversation with Philippe.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I never see you at the house anymore," she said, a fake pout on her lipsticked mouth.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Phillipe was flirting back.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Not that I didn't want to," he said. "You're stunning in white. <i>Yurei,</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> they say? A ghost? A spirit?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "That drives men wild," she replied. "To their doom, smashed up on the rocks. Like the sirens."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Yes, I remember. It just that with all this – business, you know, I've been back and forth between Beverly Hills and Toulouse."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "The merger?" she asked. Matt saw what she was doing, and stayed silent. But he wondered what the "ghost" talk was all about.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I guess it's an open secret, but I've been in so deep" – Philippe put both hands next to his eyes, signifying horse-blinders – "I don't know what's going on in the outside world."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Oh, I've heard," she said. "Ozawa wants to buy Mayanada for this project, so they hired my dad from them. But they could also go with PRT, if their technology is stronger. Didn't you work for PRT?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Consulting. Just consulting."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Either way. It looks like my dad will head the project for Ozawa, whichever way it goes. You'll be on board?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "That's why I'm here."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I'm thirsty," Mariko said. "Let's get some of that champagne at the buffet before it's all gone."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The three of them headed toward the tables, where a stiff, steady breeze was lifting the bottom of the long white tablecloths to show cheap wooden sawhorses underneath. Waiters in hard hats pulled bottles from ice-filled buckets and poured champagne for Matt, Mariko and Philippe. The golden liquid in their crystal glasses sparkled under the desert sun.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://www.julieholmes.co.uk/images/champagne_glasses.jpg" /></div>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-46248647945240481152010-05-15T12:09:00.000-07:002010-05-15T12:11:38.717-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 5.15<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 12</span> <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Chapters 1-11: <a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Mariko's white BMW sped across the narrow highway as the sun rose. Matt was still recovering from his bruises from the day before and groggy from his second 5 a.m. wake-up in a row. The early morning drive into the high desert, the sticky sweet scent of the sage blooming on the side of the road – it was just like the morning before. How could things have gone so out of control so fast? He asked himself if this was normal life in the real world. Then he remembered his high school days, college finals and the bleak three years at the telecommunications plant.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> High school in Auburn was unremarkable, except for getting suspended for insubordination after refusing to run an extra lap and pushing back when the gym teacher pushed him. So was community college, except there wasn't even a fight with the gym teacher to look back on. Just the basic courses, the French he'd always wanted to learn, plus the credits he needed in electronics for a job at Voxtel, one of the only games in town, the telecommunications equipment company where his dad worked.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Because he could read a schematic, he eventually set up test benches for the new equipment, did the quality control checks, compiled the printouts and filed them in a report to his department head. It was a living, he eventually decided, but not much of a life. Two years went by, punctuated only by an occasional date, mostly with girls that family friends thought would be good for him. Some were with women he met while he was taking the family Doberman, Alex, for a run in the park. None had anything to offer beyond a quiet life in town and another 30 years of setting up tests for telephone equipment.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> One day a film crew came up from Hollywood, a couple of guys with a Japanese production company making a video for Voxtel stockholders. They were filming Matt while he ran a test. He got to talking with them, and they told him there were hundreds of jobs for electricians on film sets around Los Angeles. They even gave him the name of an employment agency that could set him up with assignments.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> It was just the excuse he'd been looking for.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
His dad was furious and wouldn't speak to him as he packed up to leave. His stepmother and her daughter, his half-sister, said goodbye, without much emotion invested. He rented a cheap apartment off Melrose, bounced from job to job on low-budget films and the occasional porn video, and met Mariko one night when he saw she was reading Rimbaud's <i>A Season in Hell a</i>t the back of the Black Cat Café.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i>"Jadis, si je me souviens bien, ma vie était un grand festin oú tous les vins coulaient et tous les femmes dansaient,"</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> he recited from his college French course. They had a couple of dinners together before things got more serious. For the first time since he was a kid, there were things about a woman that he didn't understand and he wanted to be with her until he did, and maybe even after that. Then, for the past month, he realized he wasn't spending any time in his apartment, just hanging out at her house while her dad was in Japan. Was this love? Whatever it was, he'd never been happier.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> He watched her as she turned toward the dry lakebed where the space shuttle used to land, passing a series of Quonset huts on their left. She grew up in Beverly Hills, with her father shuttling back and forth across the Pacific. Her mother, too, until she'd had enough and just stayed in Tokyo one day. So with her father on business most of the time, Mariko had spent the last couple of years on her own, finishing high school, nightclubbing, knocking about, a couple of semesters of French at UCLA, but mostly shopping, going to the gym and wasting time. Until now. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> She looked over to see Matt was dozing off again. He wasn't like the other guys she dated in high school or college – they were all striving for something. But in his escape from the grind of his test bench, he'd already found it. She knew what it was, too – the freedom from that grind. But she also knew that freedom is hard to find, but it is always harder to deal with afterward.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> And that would be Matt's challenge. And she knew he'd struggle with it, that he'd be afraid any choice he'd make would find him feeling trapped again. And she knew once he'd found a path to follow, it might be one without her.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> She knew all this without saying it. And she was confident he didn't understand as much about himself as she did. And she thought if she gave voice to her ideas he might get defensive.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> She also knew this about Matt: He might look pretty tough, but his life had been pretty sheltered in a small-town way up until now. And the last few years of staying on her own had given her some insights and strengths for dealing with people and situations that she'd learned to use to her advantage.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Which she was about to do right now.<o:p></o:p></div>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-10479422948307525472010-05-12T07:23:00.001-07:002010-05-12T07:23:48.533-07:00High News Haiku 5<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">GREEK MYTHOLOGY</span><br />
<br />
Delphi's oracle<br />
Predicted money troubles<br />
But no one listened<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.marketoracle.co.uk/images/delphi_site.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-58976313994316094592010-05-11T07:22:00.001-07:002010-05-11T07:22:59.475-07:00Dirty Haiku Series – The Seven Continents<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">EUROPE</span><br />
<br />
On the train to Rome<br />
Carla did me with her lips<br />
Pisa's tower leans<br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.toursonline.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/leaning-tower-of-pisa.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-67917631571634410132010-05-10T05:12:00.000-07:002010-05-10T05:27:43.023-07:00Matt & Mariko - A Serialized Novel - 5.10<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; line-height: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Chapters 1-10</span> - <a href="http://bit.ly/bP2JR8">http://bit.ly/bP2JR8</a></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">CHAPTER 11</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> Mariko drove Matt back to her house, silently most of the way. Matt was exhausted and even though he knew she was waiting for him to tell her what had happened, he couldn't muster the strength.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "It's about my father, isn't it?" she asked as they pulled into the circular driveway.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> He looked at her but didn't answer for a moment. She stopped the car.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "There's a lot going on," he said. He offered nothing more.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Let's go for a swim," she said. "My dad's not home."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> The butler had gone home for the night. They went up to her room, took their clothes off and wrapped towels around themselves. Then they walked back down the curved staircase, across the marble floor of the entry and out the sliding glass door of the living room, into the cool night air of the back yard. Mariko turned on the pool light and they both dived naked into the glowing turquoise water.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> They glided together back and forth across the length of the pool as the rippling light cast a crazy dancing pattern above them on the walls of the house. The black sky showed its brightest lights, thanks to the wind of the night before that had blown the air clear. The Big Dipper was easily visible. Venus and Mars burned brightly near the moon. Mariko climbed out on the steps from the shallow end and Matt followed her. He put her towel around her shoulders and kissed her neck.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Don't," she said. She turned to him. "What did the guy in the Jaguar want?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> Matt wrapped his towel around his waist and they sat down on two wire mesh lawn chairs, facing each other.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "He wants to know what your dad's doing with a merger deal," he told her.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Mariko looked at the pool, the light from the glowing blue water bouncing across her face.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I thought so," she said. "I was expecting something like this. Are you in trouble over it?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Could be."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "What are you going to do?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Don't know yet. What do you think I should tell him?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Tell him what he wants to hear."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "I would if I knew."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> She studied him for a moment. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "Should we talk to your dad?" he asked.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "No, that could make things even more complicated for you. I have a better idea."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "What's that?"<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> "He made his proposition seem so innocent. I think you should respond in an innocent manner. I think I know how. Let me sleep on it. But we're going to have to wake up early."<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> He followed her back into the house and upstairs. They got into bed naked and wrapped their arms and legs around each other. He kissed the jet black hair on the top of her head and then they were both asleep. It had been a long day.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
</div>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-50323701690088911562010-05-08T15:11:00.000-07:002010-05-08T15:13:45.753-07:00High News Haiku 4<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">DODGER DIVORCE</span><br />
<br />
How will Jamie spend<br />
Six hundred K every month?<br />
Plastic surgery<br />
<br />
<img src="http://graneyandthepig.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/mccourts.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-61217310164670810492010-05-08T02:53:00.000-07:002010-05-08T02:56:48.325-07:00High News Haiku 3<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">ARIZONA</span><br />
<br />
Tired, hungry, poor?<br />
We need your cheap labor but<br />
Enough is enough<br />
<br />
<img src="http://webpages.scu.edu/ftp/ddamrow/illegal%20immigrants2.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-83218356878655227642010-05-08T02:44:00.000-07:002010-05-11T11:27:36.400-07:00High News Haiku 2<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">BP-URPLE</span><br />
<br />
Not drill, baby, drill<br />
But explode, baby, explode<br />
<em>"Smoke on the water"</em><br />
<br />
<img src="http://www.treehugger.com/gulf-oil-spills.jpg" />Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418876299188335014.post-47145724547841512292010-05-08T02:32:00.000-07:002010-05-08T15:13:21.412-07:00High News Haiku<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #228822; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 15px;">EYJAFUALLAJOKU</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #228822; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Check it out, Europe</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">Think you are better than me?</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">You can kiss my ash</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 15px;"><img src="http://tomsastroblog.com/images/volcano041610C.jpg" /></span></span>Onyx Supersonicshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16906677842480253216noreply@blogger.com0