Monday, October 05, 2009

466. A Phenomenal Interview, More Like Casual Conversation with Mike Davis (Ecology of Fear, City of Quartz, and Human Environmental Writing)

Well, well, well, what can I say? Roadtrip Nation is changing my life. Surprise?! Perhaps not. Yesterday, Shannon and I had a totally outside-the-box interview with Mike Davis (most well known for Ecology of Fear, City of Quartz), and I am not exactly sure where to begin... and most certainly... this cannot... and will not end. Here goes my stream of consciousness: There's the beginning aspect of things, like here I am sitting at this neo-cool-looking house in a nice neighborhood within the noisy flight path of the San Diego airport, staring at THEE Mike Davis, like the one who wrote all those books, and is this MASSIVE name in environmental writing, the "MacArthur Genius Dude" and so many other accolades in which society acknowledges his ingeniousnessessessess, who by default combines issues of social and environmental change (when most of the university is used to divorcing such topics)... well to say in the least, we both agreed that the university is full of bullshxt theories all around, let alone pin-headed specialists who don't have much context in terms of what the hxll everyone else is doing outside of their narrow field of study. But here I am... here I am... having this casual conversation with Mike Davis.... And I'm just jittery inside thinking this CAN'T be happening, this is a special moment in my life right here and now. I worked very hard in my own self development to reach this moment to come to FULLY APPRECIATE and have the the ability to RELATE to the works of Mike Davis.... Pretty soon, Shannon and I came to realize that he's one of those MacArthur folks: not only his mind is a massive encyclopedia of the history of environment, history of science, history of social movements, and WHO KNOWS what else, but his mind has the capacity to SYNTHESIZE and ORGANIZE these concepts. He has the best of both types of intelligence. For me, I don't have much of an encyclopediac inventory, but I have synthetic capabilities.

I have probably met three or four of thos MacArthur Fellow types, and honestly, they have brushed me off as if I were a piece of snot or the unwanted overly eager graduate student mosquito they thought I was going to suck their blood.... but then to think that Mike Davis was so excited to meet me just as I was so eager to meet him! I think we both feel we're in this odd fringes region of the university--synthetic thinking doesn't have much of a place in academia anymore--and we're just kind of at the fringes, looking at this circus arena, this zoo, and trying to make sense of it, not only in academia, but the context of the university in society. We're both frustrated with the lack of history of science and science writing programs in southern California. Most of them are in northern California. We're both frustrated that the university has made such a huge effort to deny and strip the socioenvironmental context of scientific pursuit and human-environmental change. And a bonus, Mike feels that the Endangered Species Act is doing a major disservice at managing ecosystems at landscape scales. Okay... lots and lots... and lots in common... lots of literature sharing to do.

Gosh, I am just scratching the surface.

Mike Davis discussed quite a bit of his history--and his professional career. He claimed the job title as "activist" and Shannon and I were puzzled, like... that kind of job description doesn't exactly exist in today's world. He ended up marking "disobedient writer" in our quote book, and that seemed to make a lot more sense. Mike was born in Fontana (so was I), raised in San Diego in a "blue collar family" as he called it, and had difficulties... he had to stop high school for a while and join the work force. His experiences as a laborer had a profound impact on him and his thinking. Mike went into detail of his time working as a truck driver and laborer for a furniture company that distributed its goods all across America, and he had been directly exposed to issues that are mostly "behind the scenes" to the rest of our eyes. He never finished a Ph.D. in history at UCLA--not exactly sure why--but it doesn't even matter because he has had so many professorial appointments in so many types of departments over the years (Geography, History, American History, Architecture, Pioneer Mountaineering Writing Class, now "Creative Writing" at UCR, an odd appointment for him, because he's never taken a creative writing course, he's learned through self discipline, plus a career in the publishing industry in London? he describes himself teaching classes he knew nothing about initially... )--he essentially is Ph.D.ed but in a more informal way. I could say he's had more of a profound impact on several disciplines than most other professors.... So, he's done his part, I'd say. So, at one point, when he was doing this back-breaking labor in a furniture company (in his forties?) he had an appointment to teach urban planning for one day at week at UCLA, and it was a very bizarre experience he had. He was paid more for teaching an urban planning class at UCLA than he was for all his work in the furniture industry! First of all, he came to realize how manual and physical labor is highly undervalued in this American Society and how people in the university sit on their butts and not necessarily have real world experiences, create weird theories on how the world works, and they get paid much more. Mike doesn't mean to overly romanticize manual labor, but he felt that he was contributing much more to the world by moving a box from point A to point B than sitting in a classroom, telling stories to students. HE FELT THAT HE WAS A PART OF THE PROCESS, AND THAT HIS EFFORTS CONTRIBUTED TO EVERYONE ELSE'S EFFORTS. And that is a fundamental concern I have about the pursuit of science... and the role of science in society. THE REALITY IN THE OUTER WORLD versus THE REALITY IN THE UNIVERSITY are so dichotomized, so black and white... it's so traumatizing... I would just have to sit and laugh... no wonder why my Ph.D. question is "what's the point?"

That story was a huge moment for me. I look at my own life through the lens of Mike, and I see parallels, lots of parallels.... I was a high school geek who worked her xss off and went nuts at Del Taco cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors over a month. Manual labor had a profound impact on me. Why was my high school experience so dichotomized from real world work? How come real world manual labor only required me to exercise about 3% of what I had come to input in my brain? Why do I have high affinity for laboring fishermen and lesser affinity to math modeling, office-quarantined ocean-marine-biology teckies, the glorified scientists of society? Where has science gone? There are hardly any "naturalists" "outdoor field scientists" anymore, in ecology, evolution, AND the Earth Sciences. It's a dying breed, dying to tecky work and modelers who can barely have a grasp of reality. Computers have put science in the mental stone age.... Okay, same old stuff. Same old stuff. I'm preaching to the choir. But I've got a new choir member. Mike Davis and I agree... agree... agree....

Mike's affiliated with socialist groups / Marxism. I HATE being affiliated with ANY political group. I like to consider myself a BIOLOGIST figuring out the intrinsic, natural science underpinnings of human behavior and the constructs of society. Hence, this blog, this human society is biologically incorrect! I think that humans are completely detached from the notion of being biological creatures, detached from their local landscapes. I think political constructs are artificial, with no discrete boundaries. And my being a scientist, I don't like that. My take on America and many European countries is the concept of "degrees of freedom" and "degrees of constraint." Every country needs a socialist baseline of stability and degrees of freedom in order to invite an invitation to playful competition driving innovative change. If the basic needs of the vast majority of the population any society are not met--air, water, food, overall internal and environmental health, family, shelter, safety--then the society is by default UNSTABLE and is vulnerable to REVOLT/COLLAPSE. I think there needs to be a threshold of people who are impoverished to lead a revolt against those who have control of most of the resources. "When the rich are too rich and the poor are too poor, there is going to be rebellion." Good Earth material, amen. I remember the Wikipedia stating that perhaps the next ideal form of society is small-scale, decentralized, local systems. Everyone can know each other, treat each other well as an instrinsic checks-and-balances system, and that all transactions are local and attached to the regional landscape. This certainly makes sense to me!

Some other things we talked about. Since Mike is an "activist," the notion of having a "job" never really hit him until his forties, because before then, it was all about being an activist--changing things. Mike was involved a little bit in the riots in Isla Vista in the 1960s (burning of the banks) a bunch of rioting student surrounded by police throwing tear gas at people. Students would be revolting and surfing, and they would be crying while they were surfing because of the tear gas. It was a landscape unimaginable to me. Isla Vista is more like an MTV riot nowadays than a riot with the anti-war movement. Mike Davis said something profound--I am paraphrasing him--"Cross-generational discussions are very difficult to engage in. I don't know how anyone in my generation could even have the nerve to give the younger generation any advice on how to define their own roads to life, because of all the problems that we have contributed to and dumped upon the younger generation. Technically, I'm not supposed to be saying that, but that's why I'm here. Saying things that I'm not supposed to say." I'm shedding a tear. That's probably the coolest quote I have so far for Roadtrip Nation. Mike's just making me more determine to succeed. Mike said he's all about "Question Authority," just like my advisor Armand; he has that bumper sticker on his car. I thought it was weird, because he was and still is my authority, and I follow him around like a puppy dog. The bumper sticker somehow made me trust Armand even more.

Mike discussed a few progressive universities in Europe that are transforming their curriculum in which professors' lectures are taped, made free for all, and then graduate students would have small-scale discussions with groups. It would eliminate the problem of 600 students to 1 professor problem. I told him that this experience in the university is downright "demeaning," and I had to supposedly plee for a "learning disability" stating I could not funciton in these classes due to high anxiety. I think the environmental context created this anxiety, and as soon I was out of these service classes, then my grades went up.

Mike is actually kind of shy about "interviews." He's had the BBC England come to his house a few times so he could be the expert authority about Los Angeles. BBC England has created stereotypes of Los Angeles and California, and these stereotyping stories have not changed a bit over the last 20 years. He stated that French media is more edgy and progressive. Makes sense with Michel Gondry and all. Mike apologized a couple of times, "Sorry this isn't exactly the interview you were expecting, huh?" I classify this interview as "outside the box" along with Randy Olson--probably the two most impactive interviews Shannon and I have conducted.

So, then Mike and I came to the subject of writing. He said that he learned how to write in his thirties, and it was a very VERY painful process. He thinks that creative writing programs are a bit futile in terms of the concept of someone teaching someone else how to write--people train themselves. I agreed, but I stated that my goal is "to teach people to teach themselves." That I think teachers can do phenomenal things if they help students, encourage students to ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS, AND FRAME THEIR MINDS TOWARDS THE PROTOCOLS OF CURIOSITY, then teachers do have a service in shaping, influencing young writers. Many creative writing classes involve getting together in a circle and everyone reading their blurb and then critiquing, starting with the schmooze of "what I really like about your writing...." People are so into complimenting each other, and no one is willing to listen to an honest, harsh critique. Mike Davis had an ultimate metaphor for schmoozing fragile writer egoes: going to a construction site with a hazardous building situation HALF DONE, and then you start to critique, "What I really like about your project." Same thing with writing. Mike sees writing as a visual building block game, just as I see it! I'll give you my two cents, eh? Mike said that many undergrads at UCR are interested in science fiction, fiction, romance fiction. Most graduate students are interested in fiction. And if there's ANY nonfiction, it's MEMOIR. There's NO SCIENCE/ENVIRONMENTAL WRITING. No training about how to tap into your surroundings. Geeze goodness. Pathetic. Mike said when he was in his twenties (his students are mostly in their twenties), it was an outrageous, perhaps SELFISH notion to even consider writing a memoir. Who in the hxll has an interesting life? Mike--even in his sixties--is not even willing to touch on the notion of a memoir of his life.

We complained about how science/environmental writing was non-existent in southern California universities, let alone ANY history of science courses. But then, how can we train people to do science writing then their jobs are vanishing into the dark side? I told him my approach is that this society does not need science journalism per se, but this society will always need SCIENTISTS. And that the goal is to train scientists (with pertinent research topics) to become better storytellers at the interface of diverse audiences inside and outside the university. And Mike agreed that's the way to go. I have two endorsements for an experimental science/environmental writing course: Mike Davis and Randy Olson. I need one more official sponsorship and then I will go to Bruce Tiffney and Claudia Tyler and ask them if we can set this up. I'm not exactly ready yet. Mike's shaken my internal tree, I have to figure out where I'm at right now. Mike asked me whether jobs exist in "environmental media"? I said basically, NO. I'm going to have to fight for it. I'm going to have to convince people that this is a worthwhile scholarly pursuit. Good luck to me!

Mike's currently teaching a landscapes and writing course, in which he states it's very experimental. He was really excited to hear that I was interested in sitting in! Woohoo! He says it's an interesting crop of students. I think on one of the first days of class, Mike went into depth on the first geologic expeditions of the Grand Canyon (1850s? 1870s?) and how these three geologists (Powell, and two others... my meager memory) went through these amazing analyses of the region. They had to invent so much terminology just to describe what they were seeing, for example, the Great Unconformity. Mike discussed the evolution of the researchers' observations over time. How SCIENTIFIC ILLUSTRATION was MORE ACCURATE than PHOTOGRAPHY back in the day--the role of scientific illustration! And the emotional thrill of these adventures! Back in the day, the Grand Canyon was indeed the wild west for geology. But to re-experienc the thrill of exploration, no one has implanted any pre-existing perception of the land, and you are to craft your own conceptual understanding of the Grand Canyon from scrap? INSANE! Mike said that the writing/landscape course is like a geography course rehash, but with its own twist... but no one needs to know that!

Mike was kind of interested in my dad's background and I told him how my dad backdoored into the university. Everyone in the family was pretty geeky and academic oriented. My dad hated school period; he self trained himself in vegetation and climate through observations and experiences as a child in the San Gabriel Mountains and then in an accidental field trip, my father made some observations of the vegetation zonation and the professor's jaw dropped and the next week he was hired. My dad as an undergrad was pioneering in aerial photography analysis of the vegation of southern California. Pretty crazy stuff.

Mike Davis really loves the work and adventure of field scientists, but he also discussed how even these scientists have their own departmental pirrhanna situations. Ha! I would know. Mike also made a point in terms of a shift in his writing career--He received a large advance from a New York publishing house to discuss the Los Angeles riots, and he had several contacts that would make an amazing story discussing the social injustices in Los Angeles, but he came to this point realizing, why he should be the one who has the right to tell the story about the difficulties of these people's lives? Such heart-wrenching stories! And then he fell back to his true passions for SCIENCE. And that is when he not only explored social problems of Los Angeles but also the biophysical problems of the design of Los Angeles, and how the social and biophysical aspects intertwine.

There was lots of discussions of strange, exotic places all over the world. Mike is currently writing a teenage adventure thriller series on scientific expeditions to really whacko places with unthinkingable ecosystems. The things you're trying to conserve are the things that will kill you--poisonous snakes for example. In a certain way, Mike is publicizing certain regions of the world that receive very little attention. He's totally enamored with Greenland, east Greenland. He told me one place I need to see is Greenland. Strange--most people tell me to go to the tropics. There was a lot of discussion about the Enuit people and their relative isolation from the rest of the world. 100+ names for types of snow. Geeze. The aspect that stuck out of my mind is how the people were "craving for winter" not summer. Because in summer the bugs eat you alive. There are interesting dynamics with sled dogs--somewhat "brutal" relationships in terms of dominance hierarchies and maintaining pack order. You must keep the the dogs partly trained and partly feral to maintain social organizaiton among the dogs and their masters.... The list goes on.... What can I say? Mike Davis is a very well traveled man.

Mike had this idea of doing an "Environmental Impact Report" of Los Angeles. HA! I told him about the quote from Aldous Huxley, "The most populous City is but an agglomeration of wildernesses." Doing a complete local and global EIR impact of Los Angeles. Where all the food comes from, the materials, and where are they dumped out. That would be INSANE! Such a cool idea! I asked him if he was going to do that--he says his writing gigs come and go with his appointments. He seemed very excited at the topic, but perhaps at the moment a bit time strapped with alternative commitments. But GREAT IDEA! Ha! And in Question Reality, I was trying to write a summary report on humans on planet earth for the Decapodal Pogostickapoids! Same idea....

MAJOR DRIVER FOR POST APOCALYPTIC SCIENCE FICTION STORIES THAT STAY TRUE TO THE SCIENCE--IMAGINING "SUCCESSION" IN A CITY. THE FIRST MOUNTAIN LION THAT ROMPS THE STREETS. Does "nature come back" as is... or to what degree of alteration? We discussed that, post war, post disease, it's different. I told him about the issues of reforestation in Costa Rica, same principle, secondary types of communities returning to once originally rainforest, then abandoned pasture, agricultural landscape.

Mike and I discussed how American science has framed biology and evolution in a VERY POOR WAY. For example, "Organisms adapt to the environment, rather than organisms mold the environment. Organisms as a geophysical force on this planet." Hands down agreement. Secondly, as an aside, I told him I removed the words "nature" and "culture" from my vocabulary. I said those words created ambiguity and problems of discussion on clear ideas. He agreed, good move. And thirdly, I told him that American evolutionary biologists frame evolutionary studies from the the point of view of COMPETITION. Like some kind of capitalist version of evolutionary studies. And that Russian approaches to evolution have seen more of a SYMBIOTIC-COLLABORATIVE approach to evolution. Goes along with socialism quite well. Hence the evidence of social context for driving scientific frames of reference. Mike Davis gave me a Vernadsky (sp?) book to read "The Biosphere" a biogeochemical perspective, and then I told him about Andy Knoll's research paper on "the geological consequences of evolution."

Joke: "Men are linear. They can only do one thing at a time, whereas women are more multi-taskers." I heard this claim twice. I'm not too sure if I agree. I can multi-task when some things I do are automatic knowledge, but I don't necessarily agree all men are linear. Take for example, my dad. He can drive safely and look and describe all the trees around him--to the chagrin of my mother! And then there's a famous music composer--Chopin, I believe--who had the ability to tune and process 6 different conversations at a party all at once! I CAN'T DO THAT! That's overwhelming! Wish I could!

I think Mike Davis is science writing but BEYOND science writing. Science writing plus IMAGINATION. For example, science fiction that does justice to science--post apocalyptic stories and such. Man wiped out from the world, what would happen? As Seth said, "The bad news is the world is going to hxll. The good news is that the world will be a much better place afterwards!" That's good for me because I got this whole alternate reality fiction streak in me! Imagine succession, small to large. Reverse engineering, like playing jenga with an outcrop.

RANDOM FACTS: Mike said Wallace was one of the best self-trained scientists ever, but he went onto the spiritual side of things. Lots of British laborers, mechanics and craftsmen, supported and advocated for evolutionary theory. Used word epistemology several times. Mike's totally into igneus rocks and geomorphology. My fetish is for sedimentary rocks and fossils. Powell. Dutton. McPhee. Powell expeditions. Rediscovered emotions. Climate models and climate field scientists are in TWO SEPARATE UNIVERSES. He claims he doesn't write to change the world? Then what for? Yes he does, doesn't admit it! Polar Federation. Affiliates with landscape art and classical geology. Top rated science writers are at Science and Nature, but Science is mostly dry and NONEDITORIAL. Nature has more EDITORIAL. And the Lancelet is VERY EDITORIAL medical journal. Mike Davis is concerned about how the public has a perception of scientists but NO ONE HAS A GRASP OF THE BEHIND-THE-SCENE CULTURE OF SCIENCE. Mike Davis says that there is no frontier for science writing to educate the general public, but there is a frontier for science writing for political/social change. That's where I come in. Amen. Same for Miller McCune. That's why they're different! That should be exposed, how knowledge is not fixed and debated all the time! Old fashion geography where natural and social sciences meld together. Klamath, Siskiyous, Eocene. Self-trained scientists. Unified Interdisciplinary Scientists, not many of those anymore. Russian interpretation of evolution as cooperative survival. Anti endangered species act. I told Mike Davis my first paper was on SCALE AND METAPHOR as drivers for narrative in science and social-environmental change. Mike Davis added "metaphors that don't lose their meaning in simplification." That's the magic of great science writing. Darwin's metaphors are very powerful in our everyday lives. Wallace-Humboldt, founders of biogeography.

I think I'm recuperated from my intellectual drunkedness from last night. I ended up talking to Mike Davis into the wee hours... 11pm.... I am so excited! His wife Alessandra is an art professor at Mesa City College who is doing hands-on art exhibit courses (museum studies) and his two twins are a riot. The boy loves rocks and the girl loves animals. They have their own taste for things!

I was really honored Mike said he would read "The Mountain's Last Flower" and give it an honest critique. I told him I was up for trading, and he asked me to read and honestly critique two chapters in Dead Cities. I teased him saying that this book is already "fixed" and "set in stone"! But no, what about an honest review? Who has given an honest review?! I'm SOOO excited!

Saturday, October 03, 2009

465. The Making of "The Mountain's Last Flower" (Novella) ::: THE FINAL DRAFT IN PEER REVIEW (With and Without Images) and SUMMARY STATEMENTS

Please see this PDF File for the FIRST FINAL DRAFT of "The Mountain's Last Flower" for Revision and Peer Review:

WITH IMAGES:
http://stokastika2.googlepages.com/mountainslastflowerFINAL1blurbWITHIM.pdf.
WITHOUT IMAGES:
http://stokastika2.googlepages.com/mountainslastflowerFINAL1blurbwoutim.pdf.

BELOW IS "SUMMARY STATEMENTS" which will be used for PITCHING the story to people: (1) tagline (2) summary (elevator pitch) (3) genre, proposed audiences (4) summary of my life--self glorifying deprecation of an autobiography (5) first paragraph/sections of writing.

(1) Tagline:
"The mountain’s coming down! The mountain’s coming down!!! Aren’t you going to get off?!"

(2) Summary (Quasi Elevator Pitch):
The Mountain’s Last Flower is a surrealistic, precautionary tale exploring the relationships between the personal and universal denials of Heisen the Scientist, a rather obsessive and reclusive botanist. He refuses to listen to the warning cries of Gonzo the panicky Child, who is frantically urging him to descend from the unstable, rumbling mountain. Now required to deal with major sacrifice, the Scientist must consider leaving his once secure home of a mountainside cabinshack and discontinuing his attendance to the endangered, neon-orange-petalled Neopentaspectavolus granelli, which has served as a profound source of fulfillment in his later years. Through the interplay of antagonistic dialogues, Heisen’s war of ideologies with Gonzo ultimately reveals that he is conducting warfare within himself, as his own suppressed, youthful instincts are conflicting with the implanted, conventional “rationalities” of adulthood. Yet is Heisen able to come to his senses in due time such as to escape the “erupting heartbeat” linked with “dragon’s shedding of the mountain’s skin”?


(3) Genre, Proposed Audience:
This novella embodies the genre of "literary fiction for social (human-environmental) change," as clearly defined by Dr. Barbara Kingsolver (The Bean Trees) and her initiative of acknowledging works of fiction devoted to themes of social responsibility (through the means of the Belwether Prize, http://www.belwetherprize.org). Predominant themes interlaced within The Mountain's Last Flower include conflicts of value systems, communication methods, and knowledge regimes of different environmental stakeholders, the exploration of relationships between individual/collective learning and behavior change, and why the divorce of knowledge acquisition ("science") and action ("advocacy") can lead to failed decision-making.

This very "meaty" piece of literature--a novel's worth of material surrealistically packaged into a "novellette"--is catered toward the next generation of scientists, scholars, and activists in the realm of business, non-profits, and politics, who are currently figuring out their identities, and their role in society concerning efforts towards sustainability, locally and globally. In addition, The Mountain's Last Flower is designed to question and challenge several conventional paradigms in the university and other sectors that have resorted to widespread denial and inertia in terms of their role in the larger picture of human-environmental problems. Since I have been agonizingly inspired by great works of literature I was forced to read in high school (Crime and Punishment, Hamlet, Lord of the Flies), I sincerely hope to impose "inspirational agony" to our next generation of intelligent youth through the means of The Mountain's Last Flower (Come on folks! It's not as incomprehensible as Shakespeare! And not as gloomy as Dostoyevski! And it's even shorter than Hemingway's Old Man and the Sea!).

(4) One Minute Salespitch of My Life:
Victoria Minnich, otherwise known as “Stokastika” (a seeker of order from chaos), is a Ph.D. student in Environmental Media / Environmental Science and Management at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Upon asking the question, “What is the definition of science when humans are a part of the experiment?” Victoria packed up her bags filled with knowledge and tools in the Life/Earth Sciences and Arts in order to venture down the rabbit hole of addressing complex human-environmental problems through multi-media storytelling, ranging from illustrated narrative fiction to documentary film-making.

Chronically asking the questions "What does it mean to be a next generation scientist?" and "What does it mean to be a next generation socially-and-environmentally-responsible storyteller?" Victoria dissolves any perceived boundaries between the sciences and the arts, luring these fields into new realms... of manifesting a more hopeful future.

(Wow, geez talk about book jacket foo foo! I hate all this self glorification, but this society is merciless in terms of my needing to promote myself. Even present myself as someone who I'm not. Well at least, it's someone I WANT to be. I guess THAT counts for something!)

(5) First Paragraph / Sections of Writing:

“Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.” –Sir Francis Bacon

Devotions:
The Mountain’s Last Flower was written in memory of my grandfather, John Ray Minnich. The creative wheels of this story began churning upon my first encounter with Duke and Dog in June of 2009 (then speeding up upon the incident of the 6.9 earthquake of Baja California in August of 2009). Thanks to Barry Spacks for challenging and encouraging me to write a poet’s story, not a straw man’s plight… and so this short tale has transformed into a novella, and it took me three months, not three weeks to write! Big hugs to Jeri Lyn and Steve for letting a troubled mind hibernate among the fruit trees and redwoods of Sebastopol, California. Much gratefulness to all of my blood-and-mind family for supporting—or putting up with—me through such an arduous journey of melding science and art. —September 2009

Part 1:
There was this old man by the name of Heisen who lived in a rather small, self-built cabinshack on a shrub-coated mountain, amidst a vast expanse of sparsely populated terrain, aways-away from any human-infested metropoliscapes. The cabinshack leaned against the somewhat steep, west-and-ocean-facing slope of the mountain, which was also bordered by a meagerly-fertile valley to the east, a village fairly near the base to the south, and a scanty continuation of the rugged range to the north. Despite his past-ripening age, Heisen maintained a lean and surprisingly agile form, giving him the capacity to construct this marginally functional, scraggly-shaped cabinshack, sufficient enough to shut out any high winds and mild rains. The old man’s untamed curly-grey-brown-hair-coupled-gruff-beard, horizontally-elongated, thick-lensed glasses, and gazelle-like defensive posture summed into an epitomized portrayal of a reclusive scholar of seemingly great intelligence—or bona fide geeky-ness in the least—as if he were a scientist of sorts.

And this man did in fact deem himself as a scientist. Heisen, the Scientist.

Friday, October 02, 2009

464. The Trauma of Two Days Ago ::: Valuation of My Soul Based on the Dollar Bill (Poem)

Unexpectedness disrupts my train of thought. I cry and write a poem and tell all my friends... and heal... and move on....

I had a superb interview for Roadtrip Nation a couple of days ago, but a few off-camera comments had subliminally sunk into the very depths of my psyche and even froze me up into a "funk." I then came to realize the comment that was bothering me to the nth degree, that was freezing me and destroying me. An academic stated how it was amazing how I could go through so much work and effort in my pursuits with Roadtrip Nation just to receive such a small grant. And that just pinched me... then pounded me.... POUNDED ME. There are very few programs I can commit to. There are very few programs that allow me to be an individual and CELEBRATE MY INDIVIDUALITY. There are few programs that allow me to FILL UP MY SOUL even if it involves a little bit of monetary debt! AND ROADTRIP NATION, IT IS! Do I want to go to my grave in debt in money or in debt in my soul? Best have neither, but my soul comes first in priorities. I already "died" when I was 17, so... yep... my soul is all I have left anyway. And a distinguished professor of all things challenged me to that notion.

That hurt very... very bad. If I waited for money to come my way... nothing will ever happen. I swear I am going to start catching lobster and save my soul; if this is the predominant mentality of the university, I can't deal with that anymore.

I can't be measured by a dollar bill. My work can't be measured by a dollar bill--while in process. If it is, I will never get anywhere in life and will be likely go to a "real" mental institute (though the university most certainly is a mental institute). I don't think I can deal with this academic world anymore. Some of them are going corporate in their heads as well! If he sees my efforts based on the dollar, then we are philosophically, intuitively, spiritually, and financially, maybe even rationally incompatible. No deal.

I have to recalibrate and remind myself of the professors and academics who really encourage and support me. My advisor Oran, my poetry-writer-pal Barry, my grad student buddy Julie, my undergrad inspirational fish biologist hearthrob thee-one-and-only-Milton, the list goes on. I have so much positive support who see me based on the merit of my ideas, rather than my efforts in dollars. Maybe I'm thrown off because I expected something very different from the academic I spoke to. Because of my expectations and perceptions of him were so different than the reality.

Just a few comments can throw a hurricane at me and shake up my entire neurological tree. My mind disintegrates when you wrap it up in dollar bills. So... I will wipe my xss with them instead.

I wrote an email to my friend, "But before then, I had a devastating conversation with an academic yesterday, in which he straight-up-in-the-face assigned my identity and pursuits and efforts according to the dollar bill, and I was punched with barbaric capitalism once again (did you know it costs one cent to breathe and one cent to have a creative thought pop into your head?) by someone I thought I wanted on my committee (uh... never mind!), and then I cried and called my dad and wrote a short and silly little poem that I wanted to share with you."

I am not going to be
measured by a dollar bill.
I will be measured
by my growing soul.
And oh I know I have
a pretty soul.
Oh I know, cuz
you told me so.
Oh I know, cuz
you made it so.

463. The Making of "The Mountain's Last Flower" ::: A Tragic, Precautionary Tale (Novella, Major Project Summer 2009) IMAGE JUSTIFICATIONS

Since I was four years old, I had a knack for decorating my father's office, which is a professor's office. It then became some sort of hobby. It's kind of fun, I think I am making some kind of official profession now... decorating professors' offices with my cartoons and artwork!!! Environmental Media = Decorating Professors' Offices!

Yesterday, when I placed all my imagery from "The Mountain's Last Flower" (MLF) up on Blogger, I felt a strange, foreign void, as if I felt violated. At this moment in time, I think that void came from the notion that here I have been working... for three months on and off (one-point-five-months straight) on designing images and crafting MLF in writing... and then suddenly I just post all this hard work... FOR FREE... on blogger. Am I insane?! Well, according to the economic system, I am insane. I work very hard and get no pay. According to my soul, I am reviving it and patching it up. I am achieving internal As I told Shannon, when I croak, do I want to be in debt in money, or in debt in my soul? (Just to let you know, I like to use the word "soul" in the Plato Way--holistic, higher state of consciousness--not the Christian Way--your soul leaves your body and it goes to Heaven or Hxll) So, I decided to work on patching up my soul.... I think most people don't go to their cremation or mummification or bone box feeling like they did their soul any servicing. Welcome to most of America. Welcome to most of this world! But at least it's legal for me to be in monetary debt during schooling... so GO FOR IT! Replenish my soul! Whatever!

In order to avoid this sense of violation, I decided to establish a rule system. When my work is in the peer review process amidst my family and friends and colleagues around UCSB and the vicinity (and my hero-ine writers via snail mail), I will have my files up and easily accessible on the blog. But as soon as I send my work to literary agents and editors, then I will have to take my final draft down... but can still have rough-object items up... at no terrible cost!

The other realization I made is that it's actually "hard" to give people this story. I like to give people presents... but usually "happy" presents. But then again, this story is sad... sad, sad story... but my friend Shannon said, "I like sad stories... because they are real." Oh. Well, that makes one or two humans on this planet who like to confront reality. And it is a sad story about the death of a not-go-good-paradigm, so in a certain way, it's a happy story because it's a shocking celebration of the death of some form of denial ideology of scientists--thinking they can separate themselves from the system and deny they are "a part of the process"!

A BRIEF TIMELINE OF THE MOUNTAIN'S LAST FLOWER. Down the rabbithole of my summer... I guess you can say....

Early June: post writing "Catch Share," I was exposed to Duke and Dog, the concept flew to my head in a drive up to UCSB from San Diego; shared with my dad and Barry
Mid June: Barry Spacks provides advice and challenges me to writing a poet's story, develop compassion for my main character Heisen the Scientist
Mid July: Ray's Memorial, initializing and finalizing most of the illustrations of the story (1.5 weeks of solid 12-hour-per-day-work)
Mid August: Stall in work effort, first few pages reviewed by Hector, wrote first ten pages by the time of the AAAS Pacific Division Conference, powerpoint presentation received third place in science education division
Mid September: Amidst the chaos and inspiraton of Roadtrip Nation, I hunkered down and hid in Sebastopol to finish writing MLF within a little over a week, at least 6 hours a day of writing. It was brutal, but I was surrounded by the support and friendship and family of Jeri Lyn and Steve and Chris Lods and the small, charming town of Sebastopol!
Now (October): I realize finishing the story is just the beginning of the battle in terms of the writing and paperwork and discussion to follow....

Artist Techniques: Overall very primitie in the scope of complex machines... except for Photoshop. (1) white paper (2) fine point sharpie for sketching outlines (3) some pencil (4) scanner (5) photoshopping (for contrast, coloring in, adding further layers), also known as "microsurgery" on my characters (e.g. moving their eyes and noses and ears and mouthes around)

Major Influences of Art (for this project): Blue Bison (
http://www.bluebison.net/), Jeri lyn Dillin (http://www.dillindesign.com/), Michel Gondry (http://www.michelgondry.com/).

Overall Artistic Strategies:

Evolutionary brainwashing in terms of the CUTENESS proportions ::: big head and big eyes, small nose, small body, kind of big feet... the "alien baby" look... I am exceptionally vulnerable since I am a female (fortunately or unfortunately) ... oooh! cutie! cutie! cutie! I just wanna hug and snuggle bunny you!

Irreducible Complexity (Objective Minimalism):
In an obvious way, my artwork (illustration, cartoons) is "minimalist," (simplest possible, identifiable representation of reality) going along the lines of "artfully simplify, but nothing simpler." Another way of stating this technique is "irreducible complexity," simplifying a system to a point if one element is eliminated from the design, then the whole image or system falls apart, like some defunct, overheated, unraveling protein (or a flagellum of a single cell missing a major part).

Now a silly aside issue arises, since "irreducible complexity" applies to my artistic style, does this mean that my work relates to "intelligent design"? Intelligent Design theory states that there is evidence showing some intelligent being or god or whatever has designed reality and irreducible complexity is their staple concept. Honestly, I feel that irreducible complexity is a constructionist concept that belongs to evolutionary theory. It's just that evolutionary theory in America is "competition-oriented" in its mentality whereas other cultures are "cooperation-oriented" in which irreducible complexity most rightfully fits.

Why do I resort to minimalism, in which my dad feels it's "objective" and "universal"? Uh... well... my dad is the most biased human being on this planet... he's my DAD... but other than that... I resort to minimalism because I'M A GRADUATE STUDENT. I HAVE NO BUDGET. I HAVE TIME ISSUES. I HAVE RESOURCES ISSUES. I HAVE EFFICIENCY ISSUES. I don't have time to place anatomical details on the skin of Heisen the Scientist. I can only draw lines that embody his gestalt. In an idealist universe, I would have the manpower of Pixar Studios to animate MLF but... honestly... that's a long shot. When I write fiction, my mind has reached this state of alternate reality... and apparently, it takes a lot of manpower to manifest this form of reality into major motion pictures! Sigh. So, here I am, my brain... paper... pencil... photoshop... and a computer that's currently valued at $400. The Condition of GraduateStudentism is Making the Most of What You've Got! I'll also do my social networking, Roadtrip Nation Part; I intend to meet folks from Pixar and Dreamworks....

Initial Responses of My Artwork: Overall, very positive reviews!

In short, having a bitter, reclusive old geezer as the main character is a very difficult task indeed. But ironically, I already had about three professors tell me, based on the images of Heisen the Scientist, "Hey, that kind of looks like me!" Maybe it's a sign that I invented the universal (or stereotypical) professor cartoon! My father told me that the Scientist in the image seems a little bit "too appealing, too charming," based on my writing description of him, but just a tad. My friend Chris Lods from Sebastopol told me "Your images are unique. They have 'you' written all over them. Most artists mimic other people's work, but your style is your own deal, your own original identity." That's probably the nicest compliment I received from an artist. Barry Spacks looked at my images back in July and he admired the "consistency" of characters across the images. He also stated that my landscape drawing had a Japanese style to it... (whatever works!). Barry had fun with the images, trying to make funny tag lines for each cartoon, as if he were entering captions for The New Yorker weekly contest! A nice guy at the Santa Rosa Kinkos told me that he really enjoyed the "minimalism" of the drawings because most books have complex, multi-layered graphics, and oftentimes even cluttery and unaesthetic.

Another issue that was brought up to me (largely from my cousin-aunt Jeri Lyn) is that the whimsical lightness of my cartoons do not match very well with the darkness and heaviness of my writing style. Granted my artwork contrasts my writing style, but all the better?! Because my writing can be too dark? What? Do people want my stories to be complimented with evil demon goth images? It ruins it. Two extreme opposites can balance a story... potentially.... Strangely enough, I have received this input largely from females, and it seems that most males reading my story actually enjoy the accompaniment of whimsical pictures with my stories.

I am sure I will be getting more feedback on the illustration. Will add more commentary to this blog, soon enough!

Thursday, October 01, 2009

462. The Making of "The Mountain's Last Flower" ::: A Tragic, Precautionary Tale (Novella, Major Project Summer 2009) IMAGE PORTFOLIO


The Making of "The Mountain's Last Flower" Images that Made the Final Cut

The Making of "The Mountain's Last Flower" Images that Did Not Make the Final Cut

The Making of The Mountain's Last Flower: Rough Draft Images

Crafting a novella is a lot of work! It was about three months from the origins of the idea to the final completion (one month's of 8-hour-per-day work, with interruptions in between)! The least I can do is share the "behind the scenes" of the design of the illustrated novella, "The Mountain's Last Flower," which ended up being my predominant summer project. It takes several revisions in artwork (graphic design, illustration, cartoonwork) and writing in order to finally have enough confidence to share my work with the world! Please see the NEXT BLOG (463) in order to review a commentary of the artistic design process and initial feedback!

Saturday, September 19, 2009

461. Untitled Shifting Baselines Syndrome + Information Overload Fiction Story


As usual, when I am exposed with too many stimuli for my brain to handle, it starts to collapse, cave in, and invent a bunch of novel, whacko story ideas... I just finished the first round final draft of The Mountain's Last Flower, and my mind is hunting for novel storyline structures, and most recently since I had accomplished my dream of finally meeting... and surf filming... and eating Mexican food with... my science-film-maker hero Dr. Randy Olson (for Roadtrip Nation), and since two nights ago I lost sleep because I finally watched "What the Bleep Do We Know?!!" after about 31 people independently told me to watch that film (including my first film production instructor Michael Hanrahan, interviewed writer-director Betsy Chasse in Washington yesterday for Roadtrip Nation)... so now I am in this ultimate, ape-chest-beating-ego-maniac mood of hunting and crafting the most radical storyline involving the Shifting Baselines Syndrome, in a more generic definition meaning: the structure and end result of your story is a product of its original premises (its boundaries in space, and time, and units of organization, that being one or several lines of data collection, either numerial, or the point of view(s) of a specific character). In a more simple definition, humans "forget" and disconnect in their ability to coordinate in space and in time. Humans have one ability to do well: transmit stories mostly in the symbolic language form, and incorporate this language into individuals memoiric repertoire. Two lines of information that humans are NOT well able to transmit are (1) visual/cognitive maps (2) emotions. So for example, I take a United States history class. I memorize the entire textbook like the Bible for my National Standard exams. BUT, I have no emotional affinity to any of the dead dudes, e.g. Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, etcetera, except for the ones that are alive or recently gone (Nixon, that grrrr... Reagan, that grrrr..., Bush that grrrr..., Clinton, eh? whatever cool enough) In addition, I really don't have much of a visual history of America in my mind whatsoever... except for VERY SMALL FRAGMENTS. A few cool images in the textbook, plus I watched that "Glory" civil war film with some hot dude in there that all 13-year old girls would get a hormonal kick out of. So... this FILM actually implanted emotions and some sense of visual experience of history, and suddenly my ability to remember has been heightened... ahemmm... interesting.... And the worst part about History Courses is that they focus on people in power and great wars and debates and inventions and plagues and blood and gore, etcetera. They don't focus too much on the lives and worlds of the common folk, and they ESPECIALLY DON'T FOCUS ON ECOLOGICAL HISTORY, how landscapes have changed and how humans have interacted with these landscapes. SO, OUR COLLECTIVE AMERICAN ECOLOGICAL HISTORY IS LIKE A GHOST and scientists are currently working on trying to collect data and work with historians, anthropologiss, and geologists to figure out a major gap in how we know and perceive history. Go Jared Diamond! Woohoo!

So, here ya go. A major problem in the entirety of the humanity. The ability to tell language-oriented stories without transmitting visual, nor emotional continuity amongst each other and to the next generation... except through films. And since Hollywood has become victim of a sell-sell-sell-your-soul capitalist system with exceptional technological capabilities, any form of emotions left in any human being has been desensitized and beaten out due to overexposure and information overload. EMOTIONAL DESENSITIZATION.... So now we have THE SHIFTING BASELINE SYNDROME + INFORMATION OVERLOAD. The speed of technology increasing the speed of the average human life to the point of being almost in a liquid state does not help in processing nor passing visual and emotional connectivity.

Having all this being said, how do I take this fundamental shifting baseline syndrome + information overload problem and package it in a thrilling, enticing, paradoxically hypocritically ironic storyline that would grab anyone's attention, from the drooling five year old kid to the bratty teenybopper to the skeptical academic to the cynical ol' hoagie next door?

AHA AHA AHA! PACKAGE THESE FUNDAMENTAL FLAWS OF HUMANITY INTO A SCIENCE FICTION STORY IN WHICH THIS "SHIFTING BASELINES DISEASE" HUMANS HAS BECOME THE PREMISE FOR THE FATAL FLAW OF AN ALIEN ECOSIOCRACY!!! SEE?! SEE?! NOW WE'RE GETTING SOMEWHERE....

I was telling my sister JenJen about the storyline in the car. Same for my cousin-aunt Jeri Lyn. It all started when I told my dad I wanted to write a short story (which end up being novellas) about the Shifting Baseline Syndrome. And then I had this conversation today with Jeri Lyn, who has been spending a LOT of effort in scanning old slides of our family (the Minnich family) and I told her that these never-seen-before photographs have really been opening my eyes and mean a lot to me. I told her that I have several files detailing family history information--particularly the timeline of my grandfather Ray, and that this information means so much to me that I like to use this information as the personal backbone and/or cartilage for the stories that I write. And then I told Jenny about this poem I wrote called "Two Generations Removed from the Land" detailing my relationship with my father and my grandfather, and how we all had this deep-rooted attachment to our environment/surroundings, but how it shifted and transcended over time (from farmer/geologist/adventurer to ecologist/climatologist/geologist/adventurer to still scientist/artist/political involvement) (my poetry professor Barry Spacks liked this poem in particular, so it gives me a little confidence umpity umph).

And then I told Jenny that I need to write this Shifting Baseline Story that has to be cross-generational, three generations, and it what has to be at stake is an environmental problem. But the setting would be a strange micro-earth-like-plane with aliens that are insect like, but are actually human derivatives (as displayed by their level of "intelligence"). I was thinking maybe it would be more like an asteroid belt that was just at the right point in which water could form and coagulate and essentially moss and weird biological scum was growing all over these fragmented asteroids. I'm not sure yet. But anyhow, there is this population of insect like-exo-skeleton-shaped creatures that have a very strong mutualist-oriented ecosiocracy (aka "society) on one of the largest asteroids and they had been able to co-exist together on the asteroid for hundreds, unaccountable as the story goes, but perhaps there was some kind of disease that went through the population and shrunk it to incredibly low numbers, such that certain individuals with certain mutational traits accidentally became prevalent. The trait was that they could communicate through symbols but could no longer successfully transmit visual nor emotional information, and so individuals could construct their own visual maps of the world and generate their own information, they had very poor ability to transmit visuals-emotions to others. Their symbolic language allowed them to pass on a vague sketchy history to the next generation and among their peers just to keep the ecosiocracy up and running, marginally running by unquestioned linear protocols in the passed on books, but without much nonlinear visionary history and projection into the future (kind of like American Culture minus Obama and my dad and me and a few other people as of right now). But then what happened is that amidst this collapsed, but then now expanding society (in which three generations typically live all at the same time, one around 30 "years" (for now, I'll change time units later), 60 years, and 90 years (then one passes on and the youngest reproduces aparthogenetically? (bad word, parthogenesis? what's that word? lemme consult an invertebrate zoology book). I like this cross-generationality stuff. It reminds me of the whole Alien movie series! So, all these creatures with this expanding mutation passed around (no external factors at the time to account for this "fatal flaw") are ultimately left-appendaged and right-brain dominant (I am reversing the roles of right and left handed so people pay attention).

But then what happens over time is that there is some UNDEFINED ENVIRONMENTAL PROBLEM (OR SUITE OF ENVIRONMENTAL PROBLEMS) that the alien society is creating for themselves on this habitable macro-asteroid through their expanding population that can only be "perceived" as a problem from a cross generational perspective because the onset of the problem is so slow and creeping from a single generations point of view. So, THERE IS THIS CUMULATIVE CROSS GENERAITONAL MUTATIONAL TRAIT THAT IS SETTING UP A POPULATION TO WIPE ITSELF OUT. THIS IS SOOO COOL!!! But when what happens is that amidst this still rather small population, another REVERSAL MUTATION HAPPENS within one character, and the onset of the disease to collapse the existing larger population, THIS MAN HAD SOME REGRESSIONAL ABILITY TO TAP INTO THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST, the emotional and visual information carried on from the ancestrally sustainable society. But the disease had distorted the memory of the past, and the man had to learn more of the history through the symbology left behind, amplifying his memories form lower vague resolution (Monety) to higher resolution, but never got very high. The collective emotion of the plague is extremely painful for one person to tap into, so he mostly blocked out visual-emotional continuity from the past and started gaining high resolution in his own life. Then he had a family and gave birth to a few kids. His son acquired the same mutation except his son close to when he was born was rapidly garnering the symbolic, visual, and emotional map of his father and integrated / interweaved his experiences very tightly with his father's. Both father and son had professions very closely tied with the nature of the asteroid, and they were in the fringes of the grid of the major dense population of their alien kind. And then the son made a family and had a daughter who passed on the gene, and so the daughter, as soon as she was born, was acquiring and synthesizing the collective visual-emotional-symbolic maps of her grandfather and father, in very high resolution, and she intertwined this regressive continuity with her present experiences. The grandfather gained experiences from the son and granddaughter, and the father gained continuity from his father and daughter. All three of them were the only right handed people in a left-handed-dominated society. Very frustrating logistcally. No one in the society thought much of it. It was the most intensive threesome of exchanged in which all three had a continual interweaving mental map of three lives (lots of information) that spanned 100 years, in which most all the others had mental maps (or memoiric movies of the landscape and people) for just 30 years. 30 years began decay of memory to a point of 60 years become a linear machine and 90 years a veteran living vegetable to keep around for the kids marginal comfort. (For some reason right now I am picturing this Dark City kind of landscape).

Now that I have complexingly set up this whole scenario in which this mutant lineage has regressional abilities back 100+ years, and gives them much foresight progressionability much farther than the typical 30-year linear mutational type. So what happens is that all this time, in the 100 year expansion of this society, the grandfather, the father, and the daughter start to detect a most noticeable creepingly slow environmental problem that would ultimately lead to the doom of the society on this particular asteroid. At that point, the technology was rudimentary but still feasible enough to escape to isolation in another asteroid, but fundamentally these are mutual, sociable creatures. The issue is, though the past society was sustaining its existence on the asteroid, and though it left its instruction manuals for how to run the society, there were missing instruction manuals, and certain individuals with certain roleplays had to whimsically invent protocols on the spot to fill in for missing information. Some of these whimsical protocols ended up being "bad habits," expanding and spreading around, to like some kind of malignant tumor of society structure (much like the Office of Budget and Planning of UC Santa Barbara, given their caniving developments violating certain environmental codes). The "bad habits" may go around the notion of my father's Smokey the Bear fire suppression scenario, and this mutant lineage of three somehow saw the gradual negative shift of landscapes (requiring scientific, investigative scrutiny) that called to urgent attention in terms of leading to a massive wipeout conflagration (figurative or literal). The threesome had this INTERNAL ABILITY to be like GIS / GPS units in their heads and reconstruct movies of shifting landscapes in any point of the land where all three had been in the past, combined with struggling to input outsider information--translating existing symbolic code into visual and emotional continuity. The grandfather was quite old and could not do much physically, but the father and daughter came to realize within a matter of their own lifespan the wipeout would occur, and at first they decided to testify to the leaders of the society, without much luck because everyone has fallen into their rut, and it was very difficult to change people's habits. And then the threesome plus their more convinced family considered escaping with a rudimentary space-travel ship to another distant colony of aliens the grandfather had an echo memory of.... But then the daughter had this great idea, realizing that talking to these other parts of the colony was useless because their chit chat was sloppy and meaningless to them 20% direct visual and emotional meaning so most 80% of the symbols was filler chatter to nothingness. While the father and grandfather were making arrangements to fly to another asteroid, renovating the spaceship with technologically savvy relatives, the daughter was adamant and decided to make all the knowledge that all three of them had in their minds externalized into a visual and musically emotional, three-dimensional story in the art gallery, which is rarely used anymore, since most of the alienst are technically linear. And through this cinematic art display she was trying to show everyone the concern and allow them to simply see what the lineage of three could see.... an expanding technocratic society was losing its ability to transmit visually and emotionally... and everyone was so overwhelmed by this means of expression that they were shocked. The question is as to whether the story was compelling enough for the mutualist ecosiocracy to change its course of action, and whether the mutational lineage of three ultimately had to escape to the plan B faint echo fo another potential society on an asteroid. Post New York destructive universe like "I am Legend" with Will Smith.

The question is, what in the hxll do I call a story like this?! I NEED A TITLE!!!

Well, all y'all people out there gonna take this idea, go ahead and be my guest! It took a while for my mind to wrap around this idea. Imagine anyone else's head. I'm not to concerned about anyone stealing my ideas. All the better! I'd like to consider it SHARING!

Notes: Perceptual/Emotional Discontinuity across generations, vertically and horizontally, the only history remained in the landscapes, no one synthesized too much they were very linear, through the remains, the grandfather had to figure out the history of the past society and their ways of doing things to figure out the missing protocols in the failing operations of the society. I told my sister that environmental problems are fundamentally social problems and political problems. Given that, writing nonfiction narrative is walking a fine line of things. If I want to illustrate a universal concept, I would rather like to portray this concept in an adventurous fiction story, because not only I am sharing a concept or a structure, I am actually APPLYING the concept to a specific narrative! And I can write freely because I disguise reality into really dense, juicy fiction. AHA! I like it. I JUST STARTED THINKING ABOUT THE TRUMAN SHOW BUBBLE EFFECT AND THAT CHANCE GARDNER MOVIE. I THINK THAT ALSO NEEDS TO BE INCORPORATED INTO THE FILM. THERE IS AN EXPANDED TRUMAN SHOW BUBBLE AROUND THE MUTATED LINEAGE AND THE BUBBLE AROUND THE OTHER MUTATED PEOPLE WITHOUT TRANSCENDENT COLLECTIVE MEMORIES IS MUCH SMALLER AND MUCH MORE CHOPPY, MESSY, FRAGMENTED, PIECEMEALED, AS IF THEY WERE SURROUNDED BY SOME TANGLED BALL OF SNIPPED UP PARTLY ERASED YARN OR RUBBER BANDS.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

460. Poem "A Victory of Loss" Inspired by the MLPA (Marine Life Protection Act) Process


"A Victory of Loss" Prose Poem. PDF version found here: http://stokastika2.googlepages.com/victoryoflosspoem.pdf
The last time I spoke with a fisherman at the last FIN (Fisheries Information Network meeting), he told me that the FIN proposal was doing well in terms of advancing to the next round of the MLPA (Marine Life Protection Act) process, but at the same time, there was no reason for any of the meeting attendees to pat each other on the back, nor give each other a round of applause. In fact, everyone looked quite sullen, as if they were all at some funeral, or memorial. The fisherman then told me that the FIN's proposal success was great and dandy, but it only meant that fisheries-related stakeholders were allowed to pick their own poison for some form of collective suicide, or if not suicide, then a massive injury to the industry. And my being all metaphorical and poetic and being a hunter of paradoxes and ironies of life... I instantly saw value in this commentary... and voila! Why not write a prose poem about the subject matter?!!

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

458. Dramatic Changes at the Whereabouts of 207 Hillview Drive... Blog Entry (Book Volume) #3



Picasaweb Blurb: Two Year Photoessay of 207 Hillview Drive; Not Your Stereotypical Graduate Student Household! What can I say?! Too much change all at once. Karl's moving out. Tina's moving in. Kyle and Lisa are getting married. Bentley the Ambassador Dog and Beastly Jacumba are around, and cancel out the effects of peace, order, and chaos around the house (;-). I am ending my fellowship and am in the exciting, edgy media job market because UCSB played with my psychology for TAships long enough. Dxmn Governator! And I say it's about time I reflect! Time to honor the place that has housed me in a two year roller coaster change in my life!



Picasaweb Blurb: Two Year Photoessay of 207 Hillview Drive; Let's Go Fly a Kite! It was the great alignment of all the stars, all the planetary systems, the Milankovitch cycles, the El Ninos, the spring burns of the sage brush... and somehow all these elements of the universe aligned such that all housemates co-existed within the same house in the closest of proximities and were all free to take a break all at the same time... to merely and most wonderfully enjoy the flying of a unicorn horse kite at the nearby park, most eagerly contributed to 207 Hillview Drive by Karl's father (I think)? What a witty man! He must know that graduate students are simply adult bodies with kid minds. We just are five year old kids flying kites underneath all the showiness of academic red-tape-prestige. The university exists so we can fly kites, and somehow, ironically, the university doesn't give us a lot of time to do that! (Featuring Karl, Kyle, Lisa, Michaela, and Joe!)

457. Dramatic Changes at the Whereabouts of 207 Hillview Drive... Blog Entry (Book Volume) #2

Initial Advertisement for 207 Hillview Drive from UCSB's Community Housing Office (CHO) back in August of 2007.
Sketch agreement I signed in order to live in the house. A bit self-defeating because I was the only person who signed.
PDF Version of the Proposed New Housing Agreement:
http://stokastika2.googlepages.com/houseagreementlease207hillviewdrINTE.pdf
Kyle was concerned we as new and old housemates were "not on the same page," so I decided to consolidate and write up "the same page." New Housing / Lease Agreement I devised since we have no individual leases with the owner of the household. Written a couple of days ago, being reviewed by the housemateys. Tina is a new housemate coming in, and honestly I feel like the last year has been a bit unstable in which housemates have been coming in and out of this box with a roof as if a kid were suffering from diarrhea... way too many housemates coming in and running out in a short period of time. So now we can all have some common agreement and cover our own and each other's xsses. And so there.
I guess what we need now is a "signing party," and every time we have a new housemate, we'll have to have a signing party... might as well be fun... food and beer and might as well clean up the house around that time too....

456. Dramatic Changes at the Whereabouts of 207 Hillview Drive... Blog Entry (Book Volume) #1

Not exactly your stereotypical graduate student house... I could say that everyone's a bit too responsible... not enough late night keg parties... not enough abnoxious accumulation of random crxp over a period of a couple of decades, not enough dust, spiders, and overall lack of maintenance... not enough weed... but I live here and some serious changes are happening.

It sounds ironic... to think that I have been living at 207 Hillview Drive for almost two years... and so many things have happened... and I haven't devoted a SINGLE blog entry to 207 Hillview Drive! Though I'm scared to think that a Blog Entry would transform into a Book of Graduate Student Drama, like Ph.D. Comics Version a la Victoria... but I know, I know I must prohibit myself from "going there" because Graduate Student Drama as I have come to realize is not the center of the world's universe, though it is the center of our own academimicrocosmos universe.

Well, then, where do I start? How can I state "what has changed" when I haven't even stated "what is"?!! Okay, okay, like a good little scientist, I will provide a sketchy two-year geological record of 207 Hillview Drive of Goleta, California, from Victoria's frame of reference.

**July 2007 --> Zaca fire. Rock Crabbing. Blue Horizoning.
**August 2007 --> Vic finishes Blue Horizons film program and considers finding a house to live in for fall quarter at UCSB. She wants to transfer to UCSB from UCRiverside for environmental media programming. She finds an advertisement through the Community Housing Office (CHO) for a $500 room for rent in a two-story house in Goleta. Vic meets Karl Rittger and Julie Ekstrom that day. Julie and I clicked; we're both interdisciplinary students. Karl was really cool. He studied climate. Both Julie and Karl were Brennies. Some other dude by the name of Kyle was going to live in the other room from Carnegie Mellon. Long-time friendship with Karl... since undergrad days of Brown University. Kyle studied climate and energy policy for his Ph.D. Kyle's girlfriend Lisa is a few blocks and a park away, along with big black grumpy megafauna labrador by the name of Onyx... and then later a pound rescule cairn terrier who looks like Mini Miss Einstein, more renowned as Mini or "The Pin." She's a work of fiction and a mystery of biological classification.
**September 2007 --> Vic thought she wasn't going to get the room. It's very competitive, but low and behold a week later Karl called me back and asked if I wanted the room. 207 Hillview Drive is 20 minute Drive from UCSB (a bit far!) amidst the avocado groves... not the beach... but the neighborhood is quiet, a family with three boys next door and a Weed Doctor and his family who ran for the Isla Vista district is our other neighbor (wow we have a politician right next door! that's a stereotypical grad student neighbor!), and there are really cool neighbors overall (families with little kids or high school students), park right down the street, like 50 meters away... the structure of the house is optimal::: communal rooms downstairs and private rooms upstairs, no lease with the owner, keeps the rent cheap, COOL! I'll take it
**Fall 2007 --> take film studies 183 with Drs. Janet Walker and Melinda Szaloky, discovered Godfrey Reggio and Phillip Glass; my life is a wreck, which department do I go for graduate school? Film and Media Studies? NO WAY Bren? NOT TOO SURE Media Arts Technology Department? COOL! Nancy Kawalek is VERY cool...
**November 2007 --> my grandmother Marion passes away, I find out in the morning, that day was shot
**December 2007 --> I have a good talk with Dr. Melack on a rainy friday afternoon after one of the first Environmental media Initiative Research Focus Group meetings, asking him where this is all going for Bren... he seemed like he was the only one around...
**December 2007-January 2008 --> I spend my entire Christmas Break writing "An Inconvenient Truth and the Relativism of Environmental Science"
**Winter 2008 --> I become closer with Julie and we have longer discussions about her research in governance and institutions with ocean management, text mining, etcetera // I schedule an appointment with Dr. Oran Young and describe to him my haywire graduate experience // I meet enough people around campus such that if Bren does not accept me into the school I will piss off a community of people who support me but are from other departments
**February 2008 --> I have a heart-to-heart talk with Dr. Steve Gaines and we spent quite a bit of time discussing An Inconvenient Truth, I got over my foofoo bullshxt from undergraduate days, the whole PISCO situation when the research was first started and I was a lost soul of an undergraduate becoming trampled by an academic machine that was just starting to crank; Dr. Gaines inspired me so much that I wrote my statement of purpose and application to Bren, he solidified my ideas... I'm thankful for that Friday afternoon talk, very windy, dreary Friday in a large office, fourth floor of the Marine Science Building, the ocean below
**April 2008 --> I get accepted into Bren, I say "oh shxt, now what?" I sign some Statement of Intent to Register form and then I felt stressed, I ate a piece of shxtty Rusty's Pizza alone in the car, I ate that crxp food because I was stressed; I went to Orientation and met a bunch of potential future Brennies
**April 2008 --> COMPASS Communications Conference, I met ThePsychopathicKoan (TPK) in the face though on the surface it was an ideal combination of science-art, became friends, went to the LA Times Book Festival and met Lulu Representatives, I was convinced to self publish, I was trained by TPK how to push buttons, manifest the reptile, stupid dress-up, Toastmasters
**May 2008 --> TPK said something profound in May and for a month I worked my xss off to finish up, compile, and print out Question Reality, Toastmasters
**June 2008 --> Question Reality is self-published, I volunteered in Photography / Videography for the Santa Barbara Writer's Conference; Pilot Writers Write-off Reality Show
**July 2008 --> Gap Fire, TPK had a tooth pulled and some implant done and since then he shoved me away, and my summer started to go to shxt... external hard drive crash, etcetera, first he smothered me and then he shoved me away
**August 2008 --> memorable birthday 27, Painted Cave, Ross Run $130 of clothes I need to burn, huge struggle, stuck because of the tumor of TPK, started going to Shelly Lowenkopf's writer workshops, wrote poem for The Myth of Sisyphus Part 2, started writing EOT (not now) but was interrupted by Ray's poor health and negligent TPK
**September 2008 --> Ray's health going down, I had a panic attack, wrote Black Wave of 101 Leg Squid poem (welcome to the university!); the TPK relationship was a sunken ship and all went down, I was going crazy for a while; rough relationship with an advisor culminated the day before the passing of my grandfather (November 2008), taking classes with Dr. Sam Sweet, evolutionary vertebrate morphology (need to follow up with the Adaptive Grid Model), committed to a job with Fisheries Stakeholder Meeting (FIN), Fisheries Information Network
**November 2008 --> Papu Ray passes away, I saw him the day before he passed, Jenny and Bub witnessed his passing; around this time, Dr. Michael Osborne gave me the "magic word" that will allow me to do cross-disciplinary academic research; it's called METAPHOR... wrote Matrix of Metaphors
**December 2008 --> I hid for a month and compiled two hundred and something references referring to scale and metaphor, I provided to Dr. Young and he was much less concerned about where I was heading; first FIN meeting and I met 30+ handsome hunk muscular, skin-parched fishermen with big boats and they are out on the ocean and catch fish and invertebrates and escape the insanity of society all together and I started to feel better about human beings and life in general; I talked to a particular dude named Jules who was very nice and we had some great conversations and interactions afterwards
**January 2009 --> applied for AAAS Mass Media Fellowship but that is close to moot because most traditional media is going to pot, started becoming inspired to write again EOT, but was interrupted, started meeting with a group Woven Atom (Lydia, Becca, Shannon, and me) but starting a literary journal for science and art is a bit ambitious and you'll end up being a slave to your creation, it was difficult to maintain a group
**Feburary 2009 --> AAAS conference, first prideful poster on EOT and adaptive storytelling in science and society, met John Bohannon and Katrien, and then afterwards had fun with Jules and life became even better...
**March 2009 --> published CHESS: The Poetry of Human-Environmental Change, under the advisorship of Dr. Barry Spacks... Barry's my hero and savior of the soul; had hard time scrounging for housemates... will stop around here... getting a bit close to the near future and that is scary because I don't feel happy with where I'm at...
**May 2009 --> wrote Catch Share, Jesusita Fire almost burns home of TPK (lots of self rejuvination through a sense of near death)
STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!

A Brief Geological History of Housemates

**Fall 2007 to Spring 2008 --> Julie, Karl, Kyle, and me; Julie moves out to go to Stanford for a post-doc, Lisa and Onyx and Mini are a few blocks away... they are integral part of the 207 Hillview family
**Summer 2008 --> Julie replaced by Joe and Michaela (Brennie graduate, very chill, bikers, snowboarders), Karl takes master bedroom and Joe and Michaela take Karl's former room by my room
**December 2008 --> Joe and Michaela move out and we are housemateless for THREE MONTHS! Fxck!
**March 2009 --> Gwaz (Brennie graduate) moves in, thank you thank you! very interested in environmental media, computer programming, environmental advertising via internet
**June 2009 --> Karl takes a temporary housing position up by Lake Tahoe somewhere up there (he's rich now, got a NASA fellowship!), and the room is rented out to Laurie (Chris Evelyn's g-friend, education masters degree) for the summer
**August 2009 --> Laurie moves out and Gwaz g-friend Tina proposes to move in, Kyle and Lisa are about to get married, and Karl said he's made a permanent move up to northern California; what?! what?! OMG!
**September 2009 --> I have a Roadtrip Nation internship and I found out that I can't make Kyle and Lisa's wedding because we have an interview with Laurie McLean, literary agent extraordinaire of San Francisco, California, so I decided to make a Photography Collection of the Brief Two Year History of 207 Hillview Drive!!! featuring some great shots of Kyle and Lisa! See associated blog!

455. Photo Assistant to Professional Photographer Mark Robert Halper in Wine Country (Santa Ynez Valley)

Photo Assistant to Professional Photographer Mark Robert Halper in Wine Country (Santa Ynez Valley)::: Vic's Ultimate Photography Experience Thus Far

Check out http://studiomark.com!!!

I learned so much about photography in merely four days! I have acquired a heightened sensitivity for lighting and my sense of composition has radically changed as well.... And perhaps I have barely scratched the surface....

Here are some comments made in my journal entry:

Vic’s Radical Shift in Perception; Radical Shift in Approach to Photography
I was in my little box of know-how with photography… and then I was hired as a Photo Assistant to Mark Robert Halper… and talk about… getting thrown OUTSIDE THE BOX and establishing a new sense of direction and passion on the next level of photography/videography!!! Geez! This internship made my summer; it made me feel like I accomplished something tremendous this summer…. I just find it fascinating how I meet so many people every single day and I learn so little from most of them and then I encounter one character and I endure a drastic metamorphosis through the eyes and mind of one individual… and this individual happens to be Mark Robert Halper….

This experience to me embodied a rapid evolution in my life and my perception of the world around me, particularly through the lens of photography (and by default, film); I told several people that I had a year’s worth of photography training (e.g. through an educational institution) in four days, just through observation and acquiring some form of autonomic-autopilot maneuvering of lighting equipment for Mark (supposedly a very simple system of a light kit), observing the decisions he was making for each scene and each subject / specimen of interest.

Key Words: Mark Robert Halper, photography, surrealism, dream-like photography, Santa Ynez Valley, wine country, workflow of photography, dodging and burning, Craigslist, equipment list, need to improve my own equipment list

Thursday, July 16, 2009

454. "The Fish" By Elizabeth Bishop, A Highly Influential Poem

The Fish
By Elizabeth Bishop

I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn't fight.
He hadn't fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
[[complex emotion]]
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
[[animal --> human metaphor]]
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper: [[animal --> human metaphor]]
shapes like full-blown roses [[animal --> plant metaphor]]
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled and barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
[[animal --> plant metaphor]]
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
--the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly--
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
[[animal --> animal metaphor]]
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony. [[animal --> plant metaphor]]
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil [[animal --> human technology metaphor]]
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass. [[animal --> human technology metaphor]]
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
--It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
--if you could call it a lip
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line, [[animal-human relationships, gas chamber 5x]]
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons [[human technology --> human ornament metaphor]]
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
[[animal --> human emotion metaphor]]
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels--until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go. [[complex emotion]][[simultaneous triumph of capture and letting go, you go girl!]]

(And besides, no one wants to keep a fish full of parasites.)

This poem is NOT A STANDARD FISH STORY. Fish story being (1) corporate dude in suit and tie goes out fishing on a pond on a lazy weekend day (2) fishermen catching a great white shark or any other MobyDickish big fish or whale story. This story demonstrates more complexity of emotion, compassion and triumph all at the same, time, a moment of capture, but then finally letting the fish go. Many metaphors are animal --> human domain. Some metaphors are comparing animal --> animal (or plant).

I suppose I like this poem because I am having very similar experiences, and I feel I have an chest-beating ego that can do a better job than this poem, I am working on a fisherman-fish dialogue story as we speak, exploring metaphor, translation, and complex-simultaneously conflicting emotions as I was inspired by Samuel Beckett's minimalism. Though this poem is metaphorically layered, metaphorically rich, I feel that if there are so many metaphors, the metaphors should construct a patterned layer. The poet reaches out for random metaphors, some from fish to plant, some from fish to other animals, like birds, and even comparing fish parts to human pieces of technology, though they are colorful, they are random, and the lump sum of random metaphors may build emotion but not necessary leap into an alternative universe. I prefer more consistency in metaphorical construction. And? I think Jules would like the poem as well.

453. Collecting Poems I Would Like to Send for Publication::: Starting with "The Can Collectors" and "Death of Anonymous Meaning"

Based on Blog 451, with the help of Barry Spacks and my new friend Bahareh, I was able to revise and blob together two poems into one. Please see PDF version here:
http://stokastika2.googlepages.com/deathofanonymousmeaning.pdf. I currently am not satisfied with the lines "Some endlife metamorphoses are pathetically metaphorical, yet starkingly true" but perhaps it serves as a good transition. It's too reflexive to me. I don't like writing about my writing. Is it a bit snobbish?!

Apparently, I accidentally made up a new word--a neologism--called "starkingly" for me, naturally from the word "stark" but usually the term "strikingly" is used. I felt like my best Chinese friend Talei for a moment. Upon learning English she accidentally invented new words--and I declared to our group that if Talei invented a new English word, then English must have desperately needed this word, for she is one who needs to fully express herself.

Barry acknowledged that I gave him two very strong poems, with very NOT STRONG endings--they were more "transitional lines" that beckoned more. He also discussed on how you can tell when people are "faking it" in their writing or "adding filler lines" in their writing (Ernest Hemingway saying), and it was amazing, Barry knows me so well he went straight to my filler lines even I MYSELF didn't even feel good about adding them, and he slashed 'em up, deemed one of them cliche (thanks, I thought so too!) the line "All my knowns foreign once again, can I catch-hold, renew once again?" Generates friction. For "Endlife Metamorphoses," the poem ended on transition lines "Nevertheless downright mentally incomprehensible," which beckoned more, but couldn't be a punchline ending. *Dope.* "We have to foster this poem to its fullest growth, potential. Read other poems for nourishment, more DNA material." / Death of Anonymous Meaning had a style transition, at first from solid poem to more song lyrics, too choppy, doesn't work. I agree.

Barry and Bahareh are "blessings" (hey, I don't like using religiously affiliated words) such that for me to transition from being in an experience, and then to take the barfings of an experience and translate it into thinking as a "poet" and only seeing this as a "poem for the sake of a poem," I would have to distance myself at least a few months, even a few years, to acquire a distanced perception of my byproducts. Barry declared, "I am a poet. First and foremost is the poem for the sake of poem," and right then and there, he could distance himself from me as a person going through an experience, and demonstrate his compassion through the form of a poem. As a result, I think Barry's essentially a psychologist as well.

The Can Collectors. Upon looking more closely, you might be able to detect a can of Coors Light tangled in a mat of ephemerally invasive species of kelp decorating a lobster trap of Mission Bay. Fishermen collect cans, literally and figuratively!
The Can Collectors. Black and white.

On one impulsive early Saturday afternoon, as I was trying to escape Santa Barbara, I had a strange experience, within a few minutes of time, in which I thought was so absurd, that I was able to document the experience and instantly emailed Barry my poem. He had an "elated" response through email. He recommended I removed two lines that severed the "proximity" of the poem. Maybe I have an ability to paint pictures and "summarize incomprehensibility" in the minimalist of ways. Lovely day. PDF is here: http://stokastika2.googlepages.com/thecancollectors.pdf.

I guess, what I would like to do is compile at least 12 poems (6 bare minimum) that I feel good about publishing, and then I'll send them off to contests and such. You can't force it. Otherwise, I'll just post them or link them to this blog for people's viewing, and as soon as I submit the poems, I'll take this blog down temporarily until I hear back. Lovely strategy, eh? YA!

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

452. Photographic Collection: Celebration of Papu Ray's Memorial and the Minnich Family, 2009, 2008, 2003 (Literature Discussion Leaked In)


Photographic Collection from Ray's Memorial (Riverside and Mount Baldy, California, July 12, 2009, as well as Ray's 96th Birthday in Corona July 2008 and a happy summer back in 2003.


The Blurb that I Wrote in Picasaweb:
Ever since my grandfather Ray's passing, I felt like a strong current in my mind and life had stopped flowing, a string of attachment to this world had been cut. But it's funny; though Ray has metamorphosed into new life and planetary cycles, the past flows of this mental river of Ray never seemed erased--perhaps now even more vibrant than ever. [Paradoxically chopped up, severaged, and reconverging into a new order] I returned to Riverside shielded by video cameras, digital cameras, voice recorders... knowing that this familiar home is somewhat foreign, now that one major character in my life has been removed... or altered into another state. Through loss, or perhaps, strange transformations (for me), I feel I have gained new, stronger currents... more closeness to my family than I had ever detected in myself before. Anyhow, the least I can do is construct a collage of the memorial and highlighted past adventures, which reflects a heightened consciousness and appreciation of family, as well as acknowledgment of inevitable change.


I emailed several of my family members--I don't have everyone's email, but whatever emails I could scrounge for--and I sent a long email to my aunt Jeri Lyn in Sebastopol. She vamped up her website http://www.dillindesign.com, and I can't wait to tell Barry Spacks about her work!!! Jeri Lyn had this funny line concerning her life-long moodswings as well as her attempts to differentiate "nothingness" and "pointlessness." That's SOOO funny. SOOO Beckettsonian, and something I SOOO get. My Ph.D. question is "What's the point?" in the first place.

I'm glad I performed this task of photo compilations. I feel I have delved deeper into the psyche of my grandfather Ray, preparing me for writing an upcoming story, "The Mountain's Last Flower," concerning the story of a scientist with a troubled history with personal walls and universal walls of perception and action. And due to these internal walls and borders and failure to address them and break them down, he defied his own childlike commonsense and his adult antirationality took his own life. The main character is not a mirror of Papu Ray, but certain elements mimick his circumstances, especially in terms of retroactivity of perception of the condition of his son John--the retroactive diagnosis of Asburgers.

Well, shxtso! I'm ruining the story! I better write it SOONER than LATER! Okay, I'll shut up now. I invented the story on the fly in a car drive, and through my conversations with Barry Spacks, I discovered I was crafting a character that summed my fundamental troubled relationship with science and scientists, as well as my attempts to understand the inner world of Ray. It was all very subconscious creativity... now taken into full blown consciousness. I am actually kind of shocked at myself.

Barry Spacks mentioned two things to me and the class. He noted in one of my poems in which "my writing became smarter than my own self," which I agree. And we also talked about the IMPORTANCE OF READING versus THE IMPORTANCE OF EXPERIENCE. I argued that if I spent most of my life reading litrary classics, then reading would become my experience, and then there is no possibility of injecting novel input to the field of literature. And if I lived a life strictly of experience (without being well-read), then I can be majorly detached from the gestalt of human history (except for the stories told by people in real life). My combination of life is (1) experience, mostly with mountain and ocean boys and chics (2) reading scientific literature, being taught scientific ideas (3) barfing everything out in literature-art mode (4) retroactively being informed that I sound like Samuel Beckett. I told Barry that we have to unplug ourselves from the Matrix to bring new ideas into the matrix. If we read strictly classic literature, the field would be self contained, and the likelihood of anything new coming out of younger generations is close to minimal--especially if experience constitutes of being locked up in a classroom for 20 years (so I raise my hand, claiming to be victim of that). And then I argued, another horrible part about modern experience is that most of it is INDIRECT, as opposed to DIRECT. If you ask someone, "how did you spend your day?" they discuss the news they watched and this movie star did that, and that pro athlete took this type of dope, but did not talk about their own personal lives or experiences, like I talked with my neighbor about the tides and had an adventure up in the mountain and worked all day trying to make a gadget to improve fuel efficiency for my car. I could not write a glorious piece on tennis (for another person baseball), because I feel insulted that this society has come to glorify the most absurd sport of swinging at a ball to hit over the net with a stick of high surface area. Professional tennis players get paid more than teachers, etcetera. Society has made absurdity a CONVENTION. Granted sports is all about exercise of primal aspects of our brain, like socially acceptable forms of competition beside bloody warfare, but to make it the centrality of entertainment?! Come flipping on! I would rather go in my backyard with my friends and figure out, and invent a new sport. That would be more self amusing. And to think the psychological damage tennis was for the entire family, and so many familes who's mommies and daddies who want their little kids to become the next Venus Williams or Roger Federer. Like flipping whatever. Okay, okay. I'll shut up. The point is, I would be mortified to write a more rudimentary memoir of my life simply because the first 19 years of it, I was trapped, drowning in a largely consumerist mentality, largely consumerist society, physically and mentally. By the time I entered CCS, I started carving out a universe of my own. I was 19 years old, and that's when I felt like I was born, when my "self" and my "surroundings" was born to its truer state of consciousness. Right now I'm in a fiction phase in which I construct alternative fictional realities based on oversimplification of components of the current universe I live in, and through this fictional universe--I seek to discover new and greater truths about the world we currently live in. Tadah!