daydream

Enough of this consciousness and the seeping wounds from outrageous fortune. Today, I just want to be the lichen on a stone, gripping a spot that I love in a place where anyone can see. Unquestionable. There. Full.

Inverted Survival

I cannot tell you how often it is that I seem to do things the "wrong" way first, and then the "right" way. I'm not talking about simple mistakes here. I'm talking about life-altering events. The order of Being. Shit like that.


Graduate college, get a job, get married, have kids... the standard order of things, yes? I don't do that. I ended up with: have kids, graduate college, get married. I even made a pattern of sorts out of it. Kid, college, married, college, kid, divorce...

Anyway.

I also noticed that just about every single damn game I've ever played (the ones that require some sort of controller), I start to play without realizing something is wrong. Then suddenly I go the wrong way, adjust it, go the wrong way again, adjust it. You'd think after 15 minutes of fucking up I'd learn the right way to get around, but no. It's ridiculous. I kept trying and trying, like a bat on acid, spinning without meaning to and jerking my character this way and that, to get around. UNTIL, that is, one fine day when I realized that most games come with an Invert-Y option. Once I invert the Y-axis of the game, I'm golden. I actually move the right way the FIRST time without having to correct myself.

Interesting sidenote: I can learn how to use either regular or inverted X-axis controls very easily. Almost instantly. But for some reason the Y-axis, the ups and downs of things, is stuck in my brain as a non-negotiable factor. Sort of interesting if you think of human patterning on the outside. We have a left and a right side, which could almost be flipped without noticing [click]...












but flip someone's top with their bottom, and...


we'll just leave that joke out.



I remember reading something about how our brains process information. Horizontal stripes versus vertical stripes, and how that relates to aposematic coloring in snakes. I also remember reading something about how cameras autofocus, and problems with vertical or horizontal blinds. I decided to refresh my memory, if possible, with the wonders of Google.


There is an interesting article referenced here [click]. One line from the abstract reads, "Vertical tracking was found to be inferior to horizontal tracking at all age levels."



Another article [click] links vertical meridians to athleticism: "non-athletes had better vertical movement perception limits." Here's a shocker: I'm no athlete. Could my Y-Inverted hand-eye processing actually be because my vertical perception is stronger than usual? Hmmmm. Perhaps?


As for cameras, the autofocus [click] has issues with horizontal things. "Passive autofocus systems usually react to vertical detail," which means they are somewhat unable to distinguish what's going on with horizontal detail. Unless you flip them sideways. Hmmmm... I wonder how difficult it would be for me to adjust my axis if I was playing a game on my side. Worth an attempt, perhaps? Perhaps.










I am also noticing (in my search frenzy) that there are varying amounts of horizontal vision (degrees from the median line) required for driver licensing from state to state. Some states require 100 degrees, while others require 140 degrees. No mention of degrees from a vertical median, which I find somewhat interesting. I mean, yes it is obvious that we live in a more-or-less horizontal plane, but shouldn't there be some sort of minimum range, vertically speaking? Oh wait! Kentucky requires 25 degrees above and below the object of fixation. The only state to mention it (as presented with this website [click], anyway).


I would like, in any case, to call other Y-Invert-Functioning people to attention. What is it about us (assuming I'm not the only one) that makes regular Y-axis functioning so difficult? Sure, we're great at Flight Simulation games, but why can't we just flip to the "regular" Y-axis program like other people? What is it about us that makes us so unable to flip our hand-eye coordination to play the way other people can?


This seems to be a moderate disability. Hey- the way video games and other automated, controller-based tools are taking over the planet, it just might be relevant! But what do I call it? I'm tall, so if I say that I'm vertically challenged, it won't make sense. If I say longitudinally challenged, I sound like a wayward explorer of the middle ages. Slightly more accurate, but far from what I'm trying to imply. A thesaurus could be useful, but did you know that if you look up "vertically" in the online thesaurus.com, you get "horizontally" as a synonym?! Au contraire! I'm at a loss.

This whole experience is leaving me with a yen to visit an optometrist for kicks.


Anyway. In my continual inability to play a game without the Y-axis inverted (most recently attempted when playing on the Xbox with one of my developing gametes), I decided it was a metaphor for my life, in general. Everything is set up backwards, and I have to assert my own way of acting in order for anything to make sense. Once I realize things can be (and are, once I flip the switch) my way...












the game is mine.

oh, really.

I write like
Cory Doctorow

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Verushka.

Verushka.




I have been waiting more than a month to get my photos.
The photos of me and my Verushka.
She is not a baby.
She is not even a mammal.
She is a joyful mover- a vehicle.


Verushka.



I let someone OTHER than me take photos of me with my Verushka on the day I drove her for the first time. Just before she became a Verushka. And I haven't seen the photos yet (she said gruffly). That was in May.


After I took her home, and before she had a name, I brought her out to meet my-friend-who-was-to-help-me-namestorm (like brainstorm). Our namestorming session ended rather quickly, more or less before it even began; thwarting a long evening of binge drinking and rancid calls of supposed dubbing (no doubt accompanied by many a cackle), her first suggestion was a name she loved- Verushka....



So why did I go with Verushka?






Verushka.

Say it aloud.
Go on-

Verushka.



The phonetics are in the cream of the crop alongside galoshes and squelch.



Then (and then!) there is the supposed etymology.
A word related to verity, very, and Vera... as in truth with a capital T, and faith.

Do you not feel yourself a fan of Truth?
What skeptic would say no?
And as you blow down the interstate at 75 (AKA 90) mph, do you not proceed only because you have some underlying faith in your vehicle?


Verushka.



Famous Verushkas?
Daughter of a Count and Countess in Germany, her father becoming a member in the German Resistance after witnessing Jewish children beaten and killed... and who was executed for attempting to assassinate Hitler, she grew from homeless child into a world-famous actress and model, Veruschka [click]. Almost a Verushka.

She has been photographed as wood, rather splendidly mongering textures for someone or other [click].

Richard Avedon photographed her with a wild, whip-like braid [click]. Eh.


She worked with Dali.
Yes, Salvador.
The two of them are in the composition of a photo by Beard.
I don't like that photo so much, and it strikes me as less artistic when it should be more, so no link.

And in one of her self-portraits [click], she prowls.






Verushka.
Say it aloud.

For a few of the reasons listed above (and not for this one [click]), I kept it.



Consider the name explained.

Myth as Inspiration

I am not a fan of religious texts, no big surprise there. I am, however, a huge fan of mythology. Most of the subjects in my paintings have been renditions of myth or legend. This is the year of my rebirth, or something otherwise as destructive/creative/cathartic, and I am in the process of setting up a room in the house to rekindle my art... surviving has left me without many supplies or much time on my hands, but the drive to create burbles underneath the sea of responsibility unsquelched.

Here are some other renditions of myth that inspire me, found by the age-old method of averting one's eyes, opening a book and pointing. One of them may pique my interest enough to generate the obsession necessary for an acceptable final product. We shall see.


Point number one: Prajapati
"Originally an abstraction allied to the smith god Visvakarma and signifying creative ability... the gods and demons are his children...."


Point number two: Lono and Laka
Lono is something of a brute, with wild mood swings, who kills his unfaithful wife but then feels bad about it and throws a party in her honor every year. Nice.
Laka, sister of this upstanding brute, is the goddess of the woodlands.


Point number three: Yeng-Wang-Yeh
King of the underworld, deciding who was reincarnated and who went to which part of hell.

Others have been inspired...

Prajapati the four-headed, a tribute... not my style but okayyyy...


Hunter S. had this idea that he was Lono returned, when he hit the shores of Hawai'i.


There we go... now THIS is more my style.



A nice smattering of dieties to start my studies, in any sense.

Updates to follow.

Fugue.

Bach is for watching, if not being.

red no.3

It was bound to occur, right?

I have just ripped a chunk off the palm of my hand in the process of opening the window wider to allow for a breeze.


That is all.

and more red...

Yes, it was stupid of me to shove my hand deep inside the blender without taking off the blade attachment to clean it. I deserved that injury. It was the type of borderline dumbass move where one begins to wonder- well, was it even unplugged?
(Yes, of course- what do you think I am: stupid?)

But opening the Jack's Special salsa container? There is no reason why they should design a lid that would slice into the skin of my thumb deeper than a metal blender blade sliced into my finger 10 minutes earlier. None.


At least the fireworks didn't end in bloodshed like everything else decided to. Rah rah, siss boom bah, et cetera.



Nonsequitur: Now I am enjoying Jon MacNair's illustrations.



They speak to me, in a sense. Very nice inkwork.


Back to the summer- I have a complaint or three.
The rest of the summer is lacking festivities. I dislike summer as it is, but now it is onto the endless procession of hazy hot and humid, all making me yearn for that dry, crisp, cool that only something as wonderful as the next equinox could bring.

In the mean time- ice cubes. Limeade. Thinking of caves and victories.

Creature from the Red Lagoon

What a friggin' forntight. Really.

Remember the adorable feline I took in, who had bilateral conjunctivitis and a distended belly?

Well, HE is doing just fine. He weighs 2+ pounds after 3 weeks (up from 1 pound 2 ounces) and is basically a furry little killer, in training. His maladies have cleared and it seems like his health will actually be good enough on his 3rd visit to the veterinarian to receive some immunizations. Finally.

I, on the other hand- My arms are ripped to shreds, being chewed on by the cat-in-training. Also, guess who has conjunctivitis now? I have conjunctivitis now! One of my eyes was even stuck shut one morning- just like the cat when we found him/he found us. Could this get any more ridiculous?

Answer: YES!

To make life even more fun, I suddenly have no access to any of my finances (thanks to MOVING and missing the necessary mailings to know some old unresolved debt of mine had gone to court). Fun fun fun. Could this get any more ridiculous?

Answer: YES!

My eldest gamete is completely- a)incorrigible, b)brainless, or c)both a + b. After an entire school year of antics including truancy (gasp!) and runaway status, I had to sign her up for Summer School (mortification). Week one, day 1- she is there. Week one, day two- she is there. Week one day three- I get a call from the school saying she is absent. How many absences before you're kicked out of summer school? TWO.

Could this get any more ridiculous?

DON'T ASK.
The answer is always, always, always: yes.
If it isn't, you're dead.


I usually don't vent about the details of my life so much, but as I have been absent for some time when I was intending to post regularly, I figure an explanation is due.

And, as the details of my life really don't allow for much socializing, what with the swollen, weeping eyeball, and the incorrigible teen, and the lack of any way to get money for drinks or gasoline for to feed my joyful mover (car), I've been a little bit disgruntled.

Good news: I hadn't deposited my most recent paycheck when my account trouble began, so I could pay my rent, and my bills, on time; unsweetened, frozen coffee drinks are in my daily life at no additional cost to me; I have acquired a washer and dryer that function even though the hot water hookup is the only one that works; there is endless free entertainment just a block from my home, a library, a museum, and if I get desperate enough, the train station.


I can count many small victories, and just keep trekking. Because of the good news, despite the fact that my eye is red along with my checking balance, life is good.


Onward.


P.S.
Some anomalous entries may follow as I test the phone-updating option with this blog.