Adjacent Topic: Campfire Tales 4

Referencing a personage from the third sector and inspired by a right arm I saw today at one of my neighborhood Starbuxes.

The man with the rifle told the girl with argyle socks that the man lying on the cot couldn’t feel anything below the rib cage.  The man with the rifle told the girl that he needed to step outside for thirty minutes and that she needed to watch the man on the cot.  If he stopped breathing or exhibited any sign of distress, the girl should press the bright blue button on the monitor that was hooked up to the man.

The man with the rifle told the girl that he would return as quickly as he could and that he was counting on her.  “He’s very important to me,” he explained.

The girl nodded.  As the man with the rifle opened the door of the dimly lit storage room, he wondered if that nod was made in acknowledgment.

When the girl with the argyle socks first noticed the man on the cot when they were in the rifle man’s truck, she stayed far away.  The man on the cot smelled different from anyone the girl had ever encountered.  She wasn’t sure if his smoky, basil-tinged odor was to be feared or ignored.  By the time she was tasked to pay attention to his vital signs, though, she had grown accustomed to it.  It had been dark in the truck, so the girl was unable to process fully his features.  After scanning the walls, she saw a panel of light switches on the side opposite of the door.

There were three knobs, each labeled, from left to right, with a symbol: fish, sun, fire.  The girl turned the fish knob first.  Nothing happened.  She then turned the sun knob.  Again, nothing happened.  She then tried the fire knob, slowly turning it clockwise.  The room brightened almost immediately with a bluish light.  The girl focused her attention back on the man on the cot, which was placed in the middle of the room and parallel to the door.   There was a pale orange blanket covering the lower half of the man; he was naked from the waist up.  The girl moved in closer and noticed that the man’s upper arms were covered in tattoos of very thin, red lines that encircled his bronzed flesh.  When the girl leaned in to look at them, the smoky basil scent became stronger, more concentrated.  She inhaled deeply, hovering over the man’s body, all six-foot-two-inches of it.

The smell was coming from the middle of his torso.   The girl bent foward, inching as near to his upper body as she could without touching him.   She looked at and then moved towards his clean-shaven face.  He had very long eyelashes.  The girl put her left index finger to the man’s nose and felt a faint flow of air.  He was still alive.   The girl exhaled and remembered how hungry she was and that the man with the rifle found her as she was rummaging through abandoned cars looking for food.

The girl with the argyle socks stood back up and set her eyes on the man’s right arm.  Under the glow of the blue light, it appeared to undulate.  It was a perfectly shaped arm.   The girl gently put her hands on it.  Barely touching the smooth skin, she moved her hands across lithe contours.   Her hunger sprang to action when her fingers convened at his elbow.   She got on her knees, clasped his arm, softly kissed the inside of his elbow, and sank her teeth into his flesh.  The girl thought she saw his eyelids flutter and then his feet flex.

When the man with the rifle came back inside the room, the pale orange blanket covered the other man’s entire body from the neck down.  The girl was kicking a football back and forth across one side of the room.

“What happened?”  the man with the rifle asked as he noticed that there were also dark stains on half of the blanket.  “Where did you get that football from?”

“I found it in the bag under the table,” the girl answered without stopping.

The man with the rifle cleared his voice and repeated his first question.  The girl told him she was hungry.

“You shouldn’t have left me alone with him.”

The man with the rifle lifted the blanket up and shook his head.  “I spared your life, took you with me when I could’ve left you to rot just like the rest of your kind, and you’ve—where is his right arm?!”

The girl with the argyle socks let the football bounce against the closest corner.  She didn’t go after it; instead, she lethargically went over to the table, sank to the floor, and reached behind the longer side of the blanket.  When she stood back up, she was holding what was left of the man’s arm in one hand and a machete in the other.

 

What I Saw when I wasn’t looking

When I was driving down the levels of the parking deck at work today, after rounding a corner, I saw two men, both probably at least fifty-five years old, that were talking to each other.  One of them was eating a lollipop.  That sight made my day.  I don’t recall ever having seen adult men eat a lollipop before (not counting celebrities).

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NFL.com’s top ten TD dances.  I like number 6–Warren Sapp, what are you doing? But I love it!

~!~

I was walking around my room today about sunset, and I noticed the shadow that I cast against the floor under the door.  I decided to take a series of ballet-esque posed pix.  Below is the longest my legs will ever appear:

Click here and here for more of Fifth Position.

Click here for something a little Lovecraftian.

Dear lover, I am not pulling string out of my head; I’m just sitting here quietly like a blue wishbone, expecting my feet to hit the ground.

 

Transformers on a July 4th followed by celestial sparkles

I stumbled upon fireworks last year and enjoyed a view standing on a balcony in the parking lot of a church in Alpharetta.  Today, I watched Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen (Michael Bay, 2009) tonight and then went to the same church to watch fireworks.  I had lost interest in seeing the second Transformers film in the first weekend of its release, but I didn’t want to stay home on July 4th.  I was sufficiently entertained.  I laughed several times, ate a hot dog, and a box of Nestle Crunchies.

Product Placement & Branding (to the best of my memory): Mountain Dew, Budeweiser, Budweiser, Bad Boys, purple LG Lotus LX600 Sprint phone.

Now for some fireworks pictures:

Click here, here, here, and here for more.

Here’s the moon about sunset, after the movie ended.

Here’s the moon after the fireworks display.

 

NFL News: Teaching the rookies more than ball manipulation

For many young men across the You Ess of Ae, playing football on the professional level is the creme de la creme de la vie.  They love the sounds, the sights, and the smells of knocking the other guy down, stealing his ball, catching an uncatchable pass, and simply being a piece of an experience that few if any other aspect of existence could match.

Possibly with the exception of saving someone’s life (and not getting into any legal or ethical mess for having done so).

I was poking around at NFL.com and came across this summary about the Colorful Conclusion to the NFL’s rookie symposium.  Playing competitive sports on this level isn’t just a test of one’s athletic talent, capabilities, and threshold for pain.  If a teenaged baller exhibits remarkable skills, he’ll become, not surprisingly, the talk of the school district.  Depending on the population of his hometown, he could be the brightest star in the region.  Being recognized and praised by peers and neighbors is manageable.

Power that up to an exponent of three or five? It’s not going to be quite so manageable.  Remember when your parents told you to be on your best behavior when you are in public because anything stupid, inconsiderate, and impolite gesture or statement you made would reflect badly upon them? Being a professional athlete for a celebrated team is similar.  On or off the court or field, you are no longer representing just yourself.  Matt Ryan may only technically and literally be the quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons during practices, for special events, and on gameday, but whenever he is identified as the QB by a member of the community, he is not and cannot simply be Matt Ryan, graduate of Boston College and born under the sign of Taurus.

Therefore, anything that comes out of his mouth or emanates from his body language could easily be attributed to or associated with his team.  Of course, most of us football fans and the general public would not be so daft as to think that Matt Ryan isn’t entitled to his own thoughts and opinions.  Moreover, I believe that most fans would separate the actions of an individual player from that of his team.

Nevertheless, in that raised spotlight, intentions count for so very little.  One has to be very careful with what one says, and as the article indicates, make nice with the media and press.  One’s best friend, as a professional athlete, is the press.  If the journalists and bloggers think you’re a no-good, lousy shard of horseshite, you’ll be hardpressed to receive their forgiveness for having said something that was taken out of context or of being photographed doing some kid-unfriendly things.*

~!~

*Excepting cases where you had no idea there was a camera and even if you knew, you most certainly would not have allowed any photographs be put on the interweb.

 

No wonder the lights were out on 10th street

Part of a parking garage in Midtown Atlanta collapsed around lunch time.  No wonder the traffic lights on 10th street from Techwood to West Peachtree were on the blink as cops directed traffic.  And what do ya know?  The company that has a received a severe talking-to for its part in a walkway plopping-to-the-earth-below at the Atlanta Botanical Garden several months ago is going to get another lashing.  Click here for more info.

Things I learned today:

Marlon Brando’s name written in Chinese is

It’s pronounced, “ma-long bai-lan-du,” which translates as “Horse Dragon White Orchid Degree.”

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~!~

Gary Cooper is

It’s pronounced, “jia-lee gu-buo.”  It means roughly, “Wealthy Prophet Ancient Tree.”

~!~

~!~

Paul Newman is

It’s pronounced, “bao-luo niu-man.”  It means roughly, “Include Button Neverending.”

 

Off Topic: Today’s Verse 27

But first.  I saw Vernon Jones AGAIN!  I was at lunch at a Midtown cafe and in walks Vernon Jones and a friend.   Today marks the fifth time I’ve seen him in public in three years.

~!~

Inspired by real events–or should I say, “real stimuli.”

Truthfully, I

im spinning….
inside
the fever rush so enchanting now
thick with too much intelligence
progress reports stacked up on high
twice-told means to a means
the pain has spread to the other shore
and isnt this what you really wanted
always wanted
but nobody else accepted the generosity
to act like a black hole where confessions and lies and all other things confirmed or denied
could be buried

Truthfully, II

im sinking
besides,
the miniatures entrust, burgeoning wiles
wired with too many fortifications
a relapse is bound to occur
fairly tailored confidences,
their remains have spilled across the kitchen floor
but this isnt what you counted on
never counted on
that someone else could replicate the elation
to revive the soul above where ordinances and spies and all other things broken apart like flour
would be buried ever after

–yiqi 26 june 09 6:56 pm

 

I Slept through the Whole game

and still managed to beat you and your sorry arse-bottom teammates.

This morning at around 3 AM, I got up to use the loo.  While I was fully awake during that procedure, I was still more than half-asleep before I got out of bed.  I remember my eyelids were open, there was also some blinking, but I was still asleep.  It felt like an immaterial part of me was blinking her eyes while the flesh-and-blood of me was still sleeping.   To my knowledge, I do not sleepwalk or sleep-hit or sleep-go-about-pedestrian-activities.  Aside from falling asleep on my hands every now and then (and causing very disconcerting numbness), I do not have to deal with sleep disorders.

According to SleepEducation.com, 17% of children and 4% of adults suffer from sleepwalking, alternatively called somnambulism.  Talking in one’s sleep isn’t that uncommon.  You probably have either talked in your own sleep before or heard the person next to you do it.  Eating while one is asleep happens too.  Some people have sex while they’re asleep.  What about playing sports?  Could a person participate in (nonsexual) athletic activity while asleep?

Have you or anyone you know ever been asleep while shooting a three-pointer,  making a touchdown pass, hitting a homerun, or getting a futbol or hockey puck passed a goalie?  If people can operate motor vehicles while they’re asleep…striking out batters surely can’t be implausible.  Making an interception and dunking a ball may be more difficult.

 

Coach Balls of Carter Fury

I originally planned on watching Cops tonight but decided to watch Balls of Fury (Robert Ben Grant, 2007) instead.  Much laughing and admiring of Maggie Q occurred.  My favorite line from the entire film was James Hong saying, “Maggie, your temper dishonors my Happy Mu Shu Palace.”  Click here for more memorable lines.  Click here for an interview of Maggie Q talking about being self-conscious about her great shape.  The ping-pong instructors she mentions? These are they.  If you aren’t familiar with Miss Maggie Quigley, I suggest you look her up.*

By the time the film and special features were seen, Cops was over, so then I watched Coach Carter (Thomas Carter, 2005), which is based on one portion of the life of a real man.

I’ll just jump right in to the analysis.  Ken Carter (Samuel L. Jackson) takes a job as the new basketball coach for Richmond High’s Oilers.  He is serious about living by respect and breaking out of the limitations of one’s socio-economic status.  Excelling on the court and performing just as well in the classroom are mandates too.  Before Coach Carter can worry about whipping the players into top athletic shape or even worry about how well they are or are not doing in their classes, he’ll have to get the boys to treat each other with a lot more maturity and patience (the film opens with the pre-Carter Oilers playing against St. Francis; it’s clear that the Richmond players can’t get along very well with one another).  Considering the way in which the film introduces and develops the main characters and balances the basketball and non-basketball scenes, I could’ve been watching a “teacher film” with basketball as a motif.

One of my friends highly recommended the film to me (on account of the b-ball), but I just wasn’t all that amazed.  As spectacle, it’s certainly satisfactory (the regional finals against St. Francis is dramatically and aesthetically superior to the other half-dozen game-play sequences).  I just didn’t find the basketball to be so compelling.  The thematic elements of the film not linked to the sport are much more thought-provoking.  Specifically, Timo Cruz (Rick Gonzalez) wants to be part of a family and to have a kind of camaradiere that he knows he cannot have with his cousin Renny (Vincent Laresca).  Kenyon Stone (Rob Brown), one of the scholastically healthier players, is conflicted about becoming a father.  There is one particular scene that pointedly depicts his apprehension with the whole concept.  He is with his girlfriend Kyra (Ashanti) and her cousin’s son.  Kenyon is getting this firsthand look at what domesticity will be like and it’s apparent that he’s neither confident nor enthusiastic about it.  Subsequent scenes that revisit this subject contain just a pungent whiff of Just-Say-N0-T0-Horny-Teenage-Guys.

As the film progresses, I keep wondering to myself why Carter accepted the job in the first place.   He certainly wants to perform a miracle but not necessarily of the competitive sport type.  During the board meeting scene, he actually spells it out: “I took this job to effect change in the lives of” these players.  Given his motive and the socio-political messages of Don’t Have (Unprotected) Teenage Sex, Don’t Become a Bad Statistic, Don’t Live Up to Their Stereotypes, and Go to College, the basketball could’ve been switched with any other sport (team or solo), writing, singing, dancing, any performing or fine art (remember Dangerous Minds and Sister Act 2?).  As long as the students need to be taught a thing or two about believing in oneself, respect, and conviction, you’d have baked the same cake.  Garnishes would be different and there may not be any nuts.

Product Placement & Branding:  LeBron James (in conversation), Kobe Bryant (in conversation); Pepsi, Advil, Gatorade, Band-Aid, Chapstick, Bob Costas, Polaroid, Ben & Jerry’s, MSN, Olympus, Pom Wonderful, Spalding, Coca-Cola, and SoBe.

~!~

*Not too many men and women to whom I’ve brought up her name would agree with me that elle est tres belle, except for one.  He’s a super fan, who for reasons I cannot fathom, has not seen Naked Weapon.  I offered to give him my copy, but after seeing this wee bit clip, I think I’m going to keep it.  Camp, corn, cheese, oui, mais…

 

NFL News: Mike, Matt, Michael, Oh yes

I’m referring to Atlanta Falcons head coach Mike Smith, quarterback Matt Ryan, and running back Michael Turner.

Click here to watch an interview with the coach as he reflects on progress and more progress.

For everyone in Atlanta, Michael Turner, wide receiver Brian Finneran and quarterback DJ Shockley will be signing their names at the PGA Store in Duluth on Saturday from noon to 2pm.  Click here for more information.

 

Adjacent Topic: Campfire Tales 3

A little bit from the second.

“You want to what?”

“Play chess,” she said.  “We have to play chess right now.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I want some strawberries…so we have to play chess.”

I raised my eyebrows again.

“I’m allergic to strawberries…mildy allergic.”

She’s an odd one, but this topped the list.  Flustered, she put her hands on her hips, sighed out loud and explained for the fifth time that she could eat strawberries if she wanted to but then she’d have to endure severe stomach pain and numbness of the limbs and face for about three hours.  Playing chess was a much less uncomfortable substitute.

“Besides,” she added.  “Maybe this time I’ll let you win.”