Category: Uncategorized

Rootless – (Book Teaser)

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment 
Advisory: Language, locker-room banter, Germans, tobacco use. 
Smoking is bad folks.

Arthur

Carter watched the fly. It’s translucent wings granted rainbow chromaticism by the glow of his monitor.

In an instant the six legged nuisance was hovering inches from his face.

“I see you Art.”

The voice sounded tinny over the speakers.

“Very funny Greta.” So they’d moved on to flies.

The air was cold. He could feel it through his sweater.

The machine landed on the desk and did a little dance.

“Warum bin ich so fröhlich? So fröhlich …? So..” Greta was feeling matronly again.

Arthur Harrison Carter suppresed the urge to smash the tiny monstrosity.

He didn’t like the direction Halifax had taken.

“If I don’t finish this inventory then none of us are going home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“I bet Ted does.”

“You bet your ass Ted does.” Again it was tinny. Schroeder was taking the whole retro approach a bit too seriously.

Quirky. Halifax was certainly quirky.

“Wie heißt du? Du heißt …Beelz!” It was almost unintelligible through the ancient PA.

“Magst du?”

..BUZZ…BUZZ….BUZZ…

The robot was vibrating with pleasure. She’d programmed sounds.

“Beelz, einen schönen Namen!” The creepiness continued.

Arthur’s hand came down heavy. There was nothing but a funny sort of residue. Nothing at all reminiscent of the organic. Just fine silver dust. Gunpowder gray.

Art could hear Greta screaming. A smile stretched across his thin lips.

“Jesus Carter.”

“We’re all going to need Jesus before this is over.”

“I didn’t think you the religious sort.”

Arthur certainly wasn’t religious but there was something uncanny and unpleasant about the little impostor and Greta’s name choice.

“He is a monster!”

“Yea..an expensive monster. That was three thousand in parts and five hundred for two days labor. Karl is going to throw a fit.”

“I already explained that I won’t put up with creepy or annoying shit.”

“He’s going to fire you!” Greta screamed.

“He can’t fire me.”

“You are a cocky son of a bitch you know that?”

“The cockiest and sumofabitchiest somoabitch thank you kindly for the recommend!”

Arthur’s confidence wasn’t unwarranted. There was literally no one who could replace him. There just weren’t many neuroscientists, with high level security clearance, and a decade of software engineering experience.

“I dunno these Germans stick together. Especially when they want to screw with the English.”

“The Germans are opportunists and the English have something they want.” Thin cruel lips.

“Arschloch.”

“Yes, darling I am perfectly detestable. Now I think you have some steps to retrace. Tick tock.”

“You are a truly wicked cunt Art. Truly wicked.”

“Vielen dank.”

Shuttle

“Mongolian sky!” Art screamed.

“Mongolian sky in fucking deed my lad!” Ted rejoined.

Greta did not join in the ritual opting to fume in silent Teutonic fury.

The trio were standing beside a couple of gleaming silver eggs in the Gobi desert. Vast polished spheres that reflected a starry Eastern sky. Spheres that weren’t a joke like solar panels because they drank those stars. Sleepless, deathless, self-sustaining sentinels in a cold and lifeless void. It never ceased to be spooky.

“Anybody fancy a fag?” Carter asked pulling out a pack of Chungwa.

“I’d prefer morphine.” Ted said nonetheless drawing a death stick from the little red box.

Art watched Gretas long thin delicate fingers reach for a ciggy. She had beautiful hands. Her bright grey eyes shot him a withering look.

“Feuer.” She muttered.

Art pulled out a Zippo with a hula girl on it; lit his own cigarette, took a few puffs, and then with pained comic slowness extend the device to his flustered colleague.

She grabbed it, turned, and began walking off.

Ted was about to say something but Art’s hand shot up to restrain his shoulder.

“Don’t ruin it you pillock. Such a lovely thing.”

“O you are truly an evil prick…”

“She looks good in those jeans.”

“That she does. But you’re still an evil prick.”

“I think you’re looking for the word genius. I just got the only woman for a thousand miles to give me a butchers at her ass.”

“You didn’t plan this.”

“No but I seized an opportunity when I saw it. That’s as good as planned.”

Ted shook his head and laughed. It was quickly lost in the silence.

The two men had a hard time telling what was smoke and what was their breath. The fact that they could be out at all without gear was itself a pleasant break.

Temperatures in the Gobi were wild. It was good that they were here in the summer rather than the winter or fall. It could get to forty below Celsius during the cold months. Now it felt to be about 14 degrees.

“You know that it’s going to be a scorcher today.”

“You say that every night.”

“And you say that I say that every night.”

“The rituals complete then?”

“We are truly hermits, truly monks then?”

“Yes.”

“Then the ritual is complete.”

Greta was rounding the corner with stereotypical punctuality.

“I guess Wu is gonna be here in a tad.”

Sure enough after a few moments the three boffins heard a strange electric hum.

Ted cackled in faux mania as he climbed the little boat ladder.

“I really do hope we get those mad scientist goggles soon.” Art quipped.

“You guys are such dorks…”

“Ladies first darling.”

“Pervert.” She said smacking Art’s ass with a resounding slap.

He howled with pain and Ted’s mock laughter became real.

“How do you like being treated like meat.”

“Jeez.. try to give a girl a compliment.”

“You Anglos have such flat bony asses.” Greta remarked nursing her hand.

“Nah, that’s just ‘im love.” Ted called down from the hovercraft.

To Be Continued

 

Oddit # 15 – The Chesapeake Bay Story should be Common Knowledge

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

In this episode I discuss how hydrology should be common knowledge because of water’s central role in all our lives. I was very surprised by my own ignorance of the extent of pollution and the number of effects polluted water has on everything from ecology to economy.

The images that I use come from web searches. They (like the molecular sketch) seem to be of an educational nature and as used here fall under fair use as far as I understand it. Here are some links to the more involved graphics:
TinyURL.com/NYPAWatershedMaps
http://www.eniscuola.net/en/2016/11/0…

Content Creation – The Art and Ethic

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Introduction

I am still not entirely certain as to why I feel so abashed. I don’t want to write about my experiences. Even though one is told to write what one knows.

But I will let that reticence go now. There’s no reason not to share the philosophy behind what I am doing and why I am doing it.

I felt that it was bit too self involved. That the subjects people want to and need to read about are more broad and less localized. Things that happen on the macroscopic and not microscopic scale. Or more accurately the macro-cosmic and not microcosmic scale.

Yet do the two not inform each other? Is one not affected by the other? And what more interesting thing is there besides reality? The best stories no matter how wild usually have some deep root in real world phenomenon.

What more honest account of reality can be given than one’s own experiences recounted to the best of ones ability? Not only are these actual things which are happening in a time that is chronologically interesting to readers in this decade (and maybe decades to come); but they are things that are indicative of the state of the world at large. And if one must insist on externals they are informed by years of influence from classical literature, pop culture, philosophy, introspection, and great Michael Crichton thrillers.

There are shifts. Paradigms, would be the trendy plural of choice. These come from technology and unprecedented access to resources. They bring much boon and much misery.

Let’s look at film making and broadcasting. It used to be a very institutional thing. The costs of doing such a thing and the amount of equipment available regardless of money was prohibitive. So only people who were in the right place and at the right time and who were very serious about what they were doing had access to the means of media production.

Even the book (and that early predecessor to the blog), the pamphlet were tools reserved for a select few.

Yet now self publishing, producing vlogs, feature length films, and podcasts is easier than ever.

This leads to another trendy hisptery word. Namely: disruption.

I think it’s a good thing. Because of what I read in Michael Crichton’s autobiographical work Travels. Here’s how I remember it from all those years ago. It’s in there somewhere. Yes, in that book he recounts one of my favorite anecdotes. He was attending Harvard and found displeasure in one of his English classes. So he decided to do a bit of a trick. He handed in a Melville work as his own. Such an action didn’t receive the expected reprimand and potential expulsion that one would suspect. No it received a B -. Yes, Herman Melville would not have been an A student at Harvard in the 1960’s. Nor would he have been recognized as Melville a great author.

See that’s also the thing. People claim that education has declined. And it obviously has. But I think that education has never really guaranteed quality. The Melville story sealing it. Especially in the arts.

What I think matters most is the willingness to work hard and to hold yourself to objective standards. This will serve as a crucible for producing gold.

So yes disrupting industries that function on brownie points for running in this or that circle; or completing this or that training is a good thing.

But as with everything there is a downside.

Rampant amateurism is certainly an eye, ear, and soul sore. A market over saturated with authors, musicians, scholars, and folks of every stripe can often crush the spirit. How will I get noticed above the gold? How will I get noticed about the dreck?

Well, I think you will get noticed and a lot faster if you don’t worry about getting noticed. I am a firm believer of doing art or absolutely anything for arts or anythings sake.

Yes food on the table is important. But it will come if you keep going.

Here is why.

Saturation is just a wet and slick slip n slide to discovery. Basically people will mull over the good, the bad, and the ugly. We all have spare moments. We all have passions and we all browse.

Eventually you will be found and merit though it has often been buried does generally win out.

Yes, there may be some who like the writers of antiquity remain obscure until after their death. But today that is rare indeed. You see because of technology I really doubt that merit will go unnoticed.

Well I don’t doubt that merit will go unnoticed. I know that merit will go unnoticed if merit is merely a flicker or a one hit wonder. But with work ethic I am very confident that you will get noticed and eventually after learning some business skills materially rewarded.

Here is why. I am subscribed to many YouTube channels, I follow several blogs, and I am always reading new books, and looking for new films. I am doing so constantly. Because my favorites even the ones that are still living and producing can only produce so much. Production takes time. And in between the spaces of your competitors (I prefer to think of them as colleague) there you will find eyes, ears, and hearts ready to dance to your tune or to delve into you pages. I have paid for independent productions and have supported a podcaster with a monthly subscription. If you’re good and consistent folks like me; who are a lot like folks like you: Will support you.

So what is this all about? Well as you can see it is about encouragement. It is the introduction to a tale about how and why I decided to actively and diligently pursue content creation.

More to come soon….

Oddit # 14 – Platform Ethics ~ Google, YouTube, and the Marketplace of Ideas

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Companies like Google, Facebook, and Twitter are ubiquitous. They are ubiquitous to the point that they can almost be considered public utilities. These sites depend on user generated content to make money. As such their algorithms and practices should be set up to reward merit regardless of politics.

Op-Ed ~ Social Media, Privacy, Ethics and Alternatives

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

*This article is atypical of the journal and is an icebreaker between the Webmaster and audience.

Disclaimers

  • A real article on Social Media, it’s implications, and viable alternatives is forthcoming. This is merely the authors wish to extend an entertaining teaser using personal narrative.
  • This whole thing is embellished for effect any attempt to characterise the author using contents herein will be met with extreme rolling of the eyes.
  • Warning: There’s some salty language along with copious amounts of cringe and evidence of learning English through the BBC.

The Worlds Most Meandering Op-Ed

(For I must sing the song of Reed and recant for youthful folly!)

An Aside and introduction

Sometimes I frequent Unz.com. I got drawn to the site by one Fred Reed. Marine, journalist, and curmudgeon extraordinaire. I liked his style, his folksy wisdom, and his tendency to wax romantic about my homeland the South.

There’s a lot to the man and there’s a lot to his writing. Unz is merely a site that he is hosted through but I find it a pretty decent place to get updates on what’s going on in the world.

(If one has the stomach to weed through some of the racial silliness. I could give a damn if the Romans were bloody Eskimos. I never understood the need to define oneself through haploid group. I mean I like both Hendrix and Page.)

It’s difficult to agree with everything on the site. I suppose since I am writing publicly now; it is high time to state exactly what I am.

(Primarily so I don’t get confused with the communist, Nazi, terrorist sympathizer, chicken hawk that is: the designated niche bestowed upon anyone that raises their head even an inch above absolute anonymity.)

Trouble is it’s difficult to state exactly what one is. Politically I am someone who values the constitution from a somewhat originalists perspective. I am fairly skeptical about anything that deviates too far from the founding principles enshrined in the aforementioned document.

That being said I am also highly skeptical of our military adventures. So to hear a former Marine talk sense on the subject in sharp juxtaposition to Mssr McCain was all sorts of refreshing.

One of the reasons that I find his stance so refreshing is that I am absolutely appalled by how much we spend on the military. You know there’s talk of communism when it comes to having healthcare for those who can’t afford it, but there’s very little mention of it when it comes to empire building.

Funny thing is I used to be quite the little hawk. My grandfather who is also my guardian served in the National Guard. As such I am familiar with the PX and the commissary at the local highly secured gathering place for deplorables know as Fort Somesuch.

One time a number of years ago I stumbled upon some rather brilliant propaganda. I had a PS2 you see. And being 13 I had plenty of free time. While looking for chocolate nutella mix in the PX (It’s generally in the commissary. What a goober.) I noticed that there was a box of things. Games they were. SOCOM Navy Seals. The very first one. How brilliant!

I’d never played a military game before. In fact I’d been raised on symphonies and classical literature but there’s something about that testosterone spike around 13 that even the most genteel upbringing can’t weed out of a lad.

I had the thing bought for me. Played it through in about one sitting and thought that I’d join the bloody SEALs. Obviously that didn’t happen but it could have. There was a little pamphlet extolling the valorous virtues of the unit in the game box. (Bloody thrilling and convincing thing that game!)

The whole point of this aside is to explain how much of a hawk I was as a result of a mad desire to defend enlightenment principles through stealth warfare. (John Locke or death!)

Fortunately, when I was about sixteen I got sent to the Citadel summer camp in order to court the favor of some such honcho in the eventuality that the camp and my heretofore promising academic career would lead to attendance at that institution.

When in the camp I was introduced to chewing tobacco, secret bare-knuckle boxing, Led Zeppelin, and dancing with girls. Eventually through this enculturation I discovered marijuana.* My academics dropped. Not because of the grass mind you but because academics at academy is such piddling paper-mache crafting idiocy.

(*Just so I don’t get sued: There were no drugs on site. Those were something I discovered at prep school.)

I once got a squirrel high and I learned to play the guitar. That I think far outstrips any military accomplishment I might have otherwise had.

But the thing is my hawkishness. It lingered for a tad. Once during a camping trip with a friend, his father asked me an opinion on this or that foreign policy faux-pas. I believe I unironically stated that the United States had every right and duty to be the New Roman Empire. Sieg Heil! To use extreme prejudice in the pursuit of said goal. Jawohl!

Oorah!

What a dork.

(I was sixteen. Hush little quote miners. Be ye gone!)

Fortunately my literary and philosophic interests hadn’t been dampened by Oorah sentiments that even most military men (generally being decent fellows albeit with a bizarre obedience fetish) hadn’t picked up.

I read Bertrand Russell, Friedrich Nietzsche, Kant, all of them. And I came to the conclusion that life was about tabocco, women, and music.

Social Media

I was eighteen and like most other striplings in the aughts began airing my idiocy all over social media.

Fortunately like my jingoism my use of this dubious medium was severally curtailed when I realized it was cancer.

This whole article is overdue and was sparked by a fellow on a Fred Reed column on Unz linking me to a video on FB. (Dude reminds me of Hedberg.)

Facebook is most certainly cancer. I found this out 2007 – 2012. I think I quit round then coming back a few times like a weak-willed smoker.

I discovered its flaws through the feed. That most cancerous of portals. Where jingoism far beyond my adolescent visions of a red white and blue fourth Reich were forthcoming.

Nothing of value can be accomplished here! It’s bloody depressing to see these tender suburban airheads waxing on about this or that pretension to cause. They could barely write a coherent sentence. And they would correct my typos! With a haughty air! The bastards. If you don’t understand SVO then you have no busine…but I digress.

Fact is social media does have some use.

The video I was linked to on Unz was thoughtful despite the fact that I’m still not sure that Mssr Trump isn’t more easily manipulable than he would have us think.

So in this wired world how does one ethically use social media and communicate effectively without losing his wits?

“But how is FB unethical!?” Cries the bewildered herd! Mssr Zuckerberg is quite a pretty little Machiavelli. What with his blonde locks and Roman nose.

(I too have such a nose. You can’t call me antisemitic. It’s bloody Roman. I was told so by a preacher. Sieg heil! Roman Salute! Hail Caesar. Hail it all!)

I am not sure if it’s avarice or nebbish naivety but he certainly has allowed his company to become one of the biggest privacy abusing, right curtailing, Orwellian monstrosities of our time.

Say what you will about my youthful lust for a 21st century Pax Romana at least I didn’t help build Airstrip One.

I’ve made excuses for the Silicon Alinsky from day one. But I really couldn’t stomach it for long. Honestly though I still blame us for it.

How in the solemn all loving hell did we go from advising each other to never mention our own names, any kind of personal information, to banking online, and letting pimply coders sell our GPS coordinates to third parties. FB bloody knows what restaurant you are eating in and broadcasts it to whole sodding world if you don’t play the settings right!

Don’t give any information at all. Call yourself Lobster Steve and talk only about fluffy kittens….to….Bob Bobson is eating vermicelli at Dagos on Devine. I see that you like vermicelli would you like to download some coupons? Oh you’re near a Walgreen let me remind you about the hemorrhoids cream. Holy sodding hell that happened! I literally barely embellished.

And now the whole gang wants to start directing the conversation! You know I had some small sympathies for Cass Sunstein’s philosophy of nudging people in the right direction but this actual implementation of the thing is eldritch. Lovecraft himself couldn’t envision a thing more macabre not even in an isolation tank with Stephen King, Edgar Allan Poe, and a drawer full of amphetamines and LSD.

And it wants to draw me back in! The space age horror wants me! It wants to keep me forever! It uses my friends. They obey it and they sing to me in lilting tones of its virtues.

Come…come…share..like…community…friends….loook an old flame…she still care for you…do you remember Teddy…he’s such a good sort…maybe you should go camping again…ooo…look this activist on Unz has a really good video up on there come on get on and comment and liiiike….liiiiike…yes your friend was right..you are a luddit…join us in the twenty first century…you are so alone right now….you need us…we are central to everything…yesss..yesss…thats a good poppit…yes now just sign this here….a little infor there..and…

Sod off.

I have Minds.com

I have Mastodon

I have LBRY

I have Archive

I AM FOSS *Almost*

SUDO -R Bullshit

Eat me!

That’s the thing, that’s the answer, alternative media, alternative tech!

Not only is it geared for content sharing and discovery versus exploitation but it’s growing and implementing new technologies like blockchain.

Not only are you avoiding the ethical and privacy pitfalls of Google and Facebook but you’re also streamlining for discovering quality content.
Sure it’s going to take a while to get the same reach as our Orwellian familiars but every new user is a step in the right direction.

Join the rebellion!

Give me liberty or give me death!

(Hopefully this article gains me enough liberty karma to avoid the hell I deserve for being such a detestable little Caesar in my teens. O wait…I still have a YouTube…the shame…the shame….)

Oddit # 13 – Surviving Amazon in the Internet Age

On By Alex V. WeirIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

I am going to start making each little ‘podcast’ (going to upload them as audio files soon) as seperate posts. This is so as to make them more readily apparent to subscribers and wordpress browsers alike. Thanks for stopping by.

An op-ed on business paradigms in the 21st century.

Suggested Reading:
Links:

Lost and Found

On By Alex V. WeirIn Philosophy, Psychology, Technology, UncategorizedLeave a comment

I couldn’t believe that I’d lost it. I was sitting in my friends grunge rock kitchen and I couldn’t believe that I’d lost it. In aggregate it was at least a hundred pages. Yet the most hurtful thing was the seventy-seven pages of a manuscript that had seemed to write itself.

So how did I lose hours upon hours worth of work?

I’m a recent Linux convert. I started by letting my friend put Arch on my gaming laptop. I really liked it. I liked the control, the security, the performance, and the privacy. I was so thrilled by all of the above that I didn’t mind dealing with proprietary driver issues with my Broadcom WiFi.

As time went on I decided to go full Linux and banish Windows 10 from my HP desktop. I am not normally a purist but Win 10 slow performance on a machine it came pre-installed with, as well as its standard issue Spyware-like features, turned me into a Linux zealot.

I did miss playing Chaos Theory and having the capacity to install Halo PC and other gaming gems on my machine. But nostalgia is a small price to pay for having a computer that works like it should.

As I grew increasingly annoyed with Windows and Silicon Valley in general I couldn’t wait to distance myself from politically correct, self-righteous, intrusive, proprietary nonsense.

So it was that I got into a mad rush to rid myself of Windows. I thought I’d put a less esoteric version of Linux onto my desktop then was on my laptop. Since I’m a Lunduke fan I opted for openSUSE over Mint which I had a copy of (thanks to a friend who’d installed it on a desktop I’m going to donate to a Luddite.)

Yes. The expression though trite is true. The expression being “Haste makes waste.” I loaded the openSUSE leap 42.3 ISO onto my trusty USB 3 Gorilla. The thing has upwards of sixty gigs. I was mighty ticked when for whatever reason the ISO kept complaining about not having enough space! The ISO was 4 gigs!

Then after some Discord sessions with my techie friend I realized that I wasn’t formatting properly. Something I would have realized on my own if I had only slowed down.

In fact if I had only slowed down and taken a deep breath life would be substantially better. I would still have my work.

What happened was that I formatted a drive that contained files that I didn’t realize had been cut rather than copied. So the original files were gone from my primary computer, they were gone from the USB to which they had been cut, and they were gone from the HP desktop which was purged of Redmond Spyware along with everything else.

Because I got busy with research, music, and studying Java I didn’t revisit my main writing project for days.

My friend needed help moving a washer and dryer. I arrived at his house and since he wasn’t back yet with the truck I pulled out my laptop to get some much delayed writing done.

As I clicked around my file,s and tried various USBs, the realization that I had royally screwed up slowly dawned on me.

So why am I sharing this tale of typical Bohemian absent-mindedness?

Well for one, I would enjoy reading something like this. I’m a writer so obviously I like stories and I like to tell stories even more. It’s good practice to write most anything. I have to stay sharp! But furthermore there is a realization I had as I was sitting there staring at my friends stark little kitchen clock that I feel is worth sharing.

This post is called Lost and Found and I did find something. I found that I wasn’t particularly worried. Despite the fact that I had lost hours upon hours of work, and probably some rather original ideas, and turns of phrase that I might not be able to replicate; I felt at peace.

I felt at peace because a fact that I knew; the fact of perishability; of the eventually loss of everything; was realized. I had realized it before but this particular iteration of realization was a bit mystic.

Perhaps it was the unexpected loss in the unexpected place but I felt a certain gnosis.

Even my favorite greats like Michael Crichton and Bach may eventually be forgotten. The thousands upon thousands of copies of their works may fade away. The millions upon millions of people who have read Crichton and listened to Bach will certainly perish. So of what consequence is it that I lost a good start to a novel?

However great Bach and Crichton may be at what they do, and however much I fancied the first seventy pages of my novel; these things aren’t irreplaceable. Sure they are irreplaceable, ‘as they are’, as in there is no such thing as an exact facsimile. But something like it will recur again.

And since most of what I’d written is still fresh in my mind; perhaps as I rewrite, it will all largely still be there, and perhaps it will turn out even better. Such is the beauty of iterating and why I chose it as the name of a podcast.

So, the big Find is that despite everything being perishable, it is still unique and worthwhile, and more hearteningly, renewable.

Maybe I’ve been listening to too much Alan Watts but I find a certain reassuring Zen quality about this realization.

Thanks for reading.

Keeping the Flame

On By Alex V. WeirIn Philosophy, Psychology, UncategorizedLeave a comment

It’s interesting that the McGregor/Mayweather fight happened just now. It’s interesting for me because it is one of those things that falls into place. They happen all the time but I never cease to be amazed when they do. There seems to be a symmetry to things.

Say what you will about coincidence. Nine times out of ten I will probably agree with you but I must be honest that there’s a superstition in me.

I am twenty eight. Not old but not young.

This position makes me wonder about what I can still accomplish. Is there an age limit for brilliance?

Not that I want to do anything remarkable necessarily; but I want to enjoy life and make something worthwhile. Does this become more difficult with age?

Perhaps.

I have stumbled across articles that talk about a peak time, a ripeness, in the twenties that is most conducive to explosive creativity. Have I missed it?

Mayweather’s victory against a man ten years his junior suggests that maybe I haven’t.

Am I being groundlessly optimistic? Didn’t Mayweather hone his skills in his youth? Isn’t his brilliance, his fire, simply a well preserved product from that youth?

To me it seems that the answer is yes and no. And fortunately it also seems to me that the answer doesn’t much matter.

Yes, boxing is a skill that is best developed in youth. The energy and endurance necessary to build formidable skills and to recover from injury are a young man’s game. But, even though this is the case. Mayweather did not let himself get old.

What do I mean by that? It’s a bizarre statement isn’t it. How can Mayweather keep himself from staying old?

Well of course in terms of telomeres and the like he has aged. Though this is true, though he has aged, he hasn’t let himself get old.

I don’t want to be one of those new sorts of people who use euphemisms. So I won’t. Yes, we get old. Yes, Mayweather is getting old. Age happens and it isn’t a bad thing. However there are various ways of getting old. Among the ways of getting old is the method of not getting old.

What Mayweather did was fastidious maintenance. That’s why his skills and his passion didn’t get old. They got honed.

This should be encouraging for everyone. Because everyone has a skill. As you grow older you develop skills and life experiences. While it is best to notice which way they are going as early as possible and then capitalize on that huge burst of energy in the twenties it’s not necessarily a tragedy not to.

You can always do maintenance and as you do maintenance you’ll notice that your machine whatever that machine is will improve and will become easier to improve.

I don’t think that the answer to whether or not Mayweather’s skills came from capitalizing on youthful energy matters for most people. This is the case because most people aren’t athletes that compete in a blood-sport. Therefore a robust frame that recovers quickly from grievous injury isn’t a necessity.

I highly doubt given a reasonable amount of intellectual, physical, and creative effort that even at forty your brain is significantly less creative or innovative than at twenty. In fact you might have gained some wisdom you didn’t realize.

The reason for this post is to suggest the art of keeping the flame. I notice that there’s something a bit odd, a bit amiss in our society; it’s the fact that people grow listless. They just decide to get old. With all of our vast resources this is a travesty.

I’m not here to be judgmental. This post is meant to encourage people. I’ve been meaning to write it for a long time. And as I said at the beginning what a fortuitous event it is that an older man triumphs against a younger man.

I am not actually somebody that cares much for sports in general. While I do keep up a robust exercise regimen and consider myself an outdoors-man I don’t follow sports. I tune in to UFC commentary or matches only once in a blue moon. Yet maybe I should do so more because as has been evidenced by this article and many others sports can be rather instructive.

So let this little bit of sports history serve to instruct you to keep the flame.

(Coming soon: tips on keeping the flame.)

The Sketch of Sam Monroe

On By Alex V. WeirIn Uncategorized1 Comment

The Green Cathedral

The whole place had a bizarre sort of sentience.

We filed down a path lined with gnarled roots and dense vegetation. The smell of damp earth pervaded humid air. Fireflies lent mystic luminescence to the primeval scene. Every now and then bits of stone, arranged in vaguely intelligent patterns, would make us pause and ponder. Until a shove informed that we must troop on.

Sam’s tan baseball cap bobbed prosaically, just feet from my line of sight, intermittently obscuring my view of a darkness that was surprising for mid day. The canopy was thick, stretching some hundred feet above,vaulting cathedral like, assuring the sun dared not defile an eternal vesper.

The hush among us Americans was certainly church like, much to the amusement of our guides, who laughed and sang in a mix of Portuguese and Arawak.

I could tell that Chuck was much annoyed by the insouciance of the natives.

He was a true believer. With his shaggy hair, ginger beard, pale blue eyes, and antiquely rounded spectacles, he could pass for a head freshly plucked from Haight Ashbury. An effect which I found humorous, given that he was younger than me, and I could barely vouch for being birthed in the eighties.

We were shameless hipsters, everyone of us. Despite my studied avoidance of facial hair and engineered unkemptness, I must confess that my very dedication to being a square was itself filthy avante-garde hipsterism. I am ashamed.

Like all trendy fools trekking through a place we had no business in, we were after the Vine.

The whole expedition had been birthed after a smoke session. A ritual of psychedelic transcendence punctuated by an obsessive review of Mckenna recordings and dick jokes.

The Fibonacci Five

Sam had dramatically called for a pause. He then ran to our grungy kitchen (which served as his studio) to fetch his sketchpad. A pretty frequent occurrence.

“The inspired artist!” We cried in unison.

We were our own religion you see. The Fibonacci Five. A church built on pretension and a deep misunderstanding of mathematics.

We weren’t expecting much.

The last masterpiece had featured a surprised looking penguin floating past the horse head nebula, and sporting an erection.

Our da Vince had seemed legitimately surprised when we’d informed him, ‘Penguins don’t have dicks, Sam.’

This time though he really took a while. Our normal silence during his fifteen minute stretches of ruining a perfectly innocent bit of paper, was broken by heavy sighs and passive aggressive bong rips.

At the end of two hours we were so catatonic that Graham asked Lucas to pull Graham’s cigarettes from Graham’s pocket. Locomotion was apparently a chore too great. Stoned in the truest sense I suppose.

It was our rule that no one speak, or halt the process, of anyone under the influence of the ‘Divine Flame.’

Finally, after the course of three toxic hours, Sam rose anticlimactically to his feet from the dusty wood panel floor, and traversing the brief distance to the couch handed me his sketch.

My eyes widened. I held the thing for some minutes. I looked at Sam who was beaming, the deep browns of his eyes dancing with pride.

“Jesus, pass it along will you Alan.” Chuck demanded.

“Hold on a fucking minute you spectacular shit.” I exploded. “This is..this is…fucking good Sam..”

Chuck snatched the thing out of my hand almost tearing it. I had half a mind to sock him and nearly did.

I was not a head. Not for years. Panic attacks had made whiskey my substance of choice. Fortunately for Sam, my vice produced poor aim, and I broke my knuckle on a support beam of our rustic Bohemian lodgings. Though I wouldn’t know of the fracture for a few days.

Chuck was too enraptured to notice my attempt. He sat there staring at it next to Graham, who would have been annoyed had he not been asleep.

“Alright pass it on hog fuck,” Lucas said with calm vehemence in his characteristic mellow tenor.

“Dude, it’s like I’m there.”

“Right?” I said.

“Right…” we all assented.

“Well Sam what the hell is it? You made a photograph with your hands just there. Of something in the jungle. Something wild.”

“You guys know not to question: ‘The Flame‘… just abide. Just mellow.”

“Mellow your ass, fuck-wit, and cut the flame shit, it is s a tool not a thing. Expound the process!”

“HASTILY!” We bellowed stamping our feet.

Graham started awake at this sudden outburst. He started awake and began to scream in a bizarre falsetto.

We were momentarily taken aback. Then having regained our composure, started laughing, as Graham continued to scream.

I threw a fresh tumbler of Jim Beam in his face.

“Relax you nancy…Or at least you’d better, Jim’s expensive.”

“You guys, holy shit, holy shit, I saw a Jaguar.”

“The Jags in the garage Graham. Candy nose Graham. Cause you ran my dads car off the road Graham. You’d better be fucking screaming at seeing a Jag, Graham.” Lucas said wryly.

“What good’s a car untested? …and besides,” he said rising to his lanky six feet six inches.

A height made more comically prodigious by wildly curling locks of sandy hair.

“…and besides I saw a cat, a jungle cat. Black like midnight in the wildest place!”

We all froze. We all knew.

We all knew that Graham had not seen the picture.

”A jungle cat you say?” Sam queried in an unsettling tone with an equally unsettling smirk.

There was something not native to his character; the way he held himself just now.

Lucas wordlessly passed the sketch to Graham.

Who held it momentarily before he began convulsing.

More To Come