This Lunar Disposition

Just another mood swing. The way these things go, though, it's less a swing than it is one of those things you see at the amusement park. You know, the big boat things that swing up to the one side, then back up the other, higher and higher, until finally, you're upside down and your change is falling out of your pocket and maybe you drop your camera, but it's okay for now because there's a wire-mesh roof on your boat, but when you flip back right-side up, you're going to be sorry, because that expensive digital camera is going to come crashing back down on someone's skull with a vengeance, and from that day forward, everything it snaps will look slightly solarized, with a strange aura-like halo around it.

Misanthropy. It doesn't take much to slam me into a miserable mood right now, and it's just an awful feeling. I'll be perfect, better than perfect even... Happy, conversational, witty, whatever, and then, with the slightest tugging at the trigger, the hammer comes down, and, to press the metaphor a little too much, the hollowpoint bullet of my happiness blasts a hole in the nearest passerby, and I'm left feeling empty, spent, and stinking slightly of gunpowder.

For some reason, it just struck me as odd that, in this day and age, our primary weapons should _still_ be set into motion by one or more contained and directed explosions. I'd have expected something more sophisticated from the 21st century. How about you?

Eating: i had some pizza at the ballpark. It was shit. I had peanuts with it. They were pretty good.
Drinking: Had a little tea to get the taste of shitty pizza out of my mouth.
Listening: A dull roar in my left ear that gets worse as I get older. Assemblage 23 carrying through the walls from the next room.
Thinking: Fuck you. I already said. Gah. I've got to be in LA next week for E3. I wonder if I'll have time to see anyone or if I'll be stuck feeling like a tourist in my own old stomping grounds. Time will tell.

Dave Eggers is smart

"What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand. What matters is that the Flaming Lips's new album is ravishing and I've listened to it a thousand times already, sometimes for days on end, and it enriches me and makes me want to save people. What matters is that it will stand forever, long after any narrow-hearted curmudgeons have forgotten their appearance on goddamn 90210. What matters is not the perception, nor the fashion, not who's up and who's down, but what someone has done and if they meant it. What matters is that you want to see and make and do, on as grand a scale as you want, regardless of what the tiny voices of tiny people say. Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me, and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a fuckload of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes."

Fair enough, I suppose

After all, I've always been a little on the eschatological side.



The final book of Narnia, you're a sometimes disturbing story about the end of the world and the beginning of a new one. Your characters include an evil monkey, a misguided donkey, stubborn dwarves and all the human characters from the previous books. You manage to be heartbreaking and beautiful at once.


Find out which Chronicles of Narnia book you are.