“In 1969, a 14-year-old Beatle fanatic named Jerry Levitan, armed with a reel-to-reel tape deck, snuck into John Lennon’s hotel room in Toronto and convinced John to do an interview about peace. 38 years later, Jerry has produced a film about it. Using the original interview recording as the soundtrack, director Josh Raskin has woven a visual narrative which tenderly romances Lennon’s every word in a cascading flood of multipronged animation. Raskin marries the terrifyingly genius pen work of James Braithwaite with masterful digital illustration by Alex Kurina, resulting in a spell-binding vessel for Lennon’s boundless wit, and timeless message...”

An indictment of the sedentary class, excerpted from an 1862 essay by Henry David Thoreau in The Atlantic…

I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least—and it is commonly more than that—sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. You may safely say, A penny for your thoughts, or a thousand pounds. When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them—as if the legs were made to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon—I…

(continued from scene one…)

ON SCREEN:

An empty document window. Letters are spilling forward like the crest of a rolling wave.

Unfocused. Unsatisfied. Underwhelmed.

But it was never as bleak as all that. In fact, it all sounded pretty cool. Building a cottage. Writing a script. Traveling the world. Then back to work. 100 hour weeks. $100,000 contracts. A day at the spa. A night in Vegas. All-nighters spaced between social preoccupations like the worn-out discs of a middle-age spine.

Unable to make meaningful decisions.

He grabs a sweating beer from his desk and downs the whole thing. It’s gonna be a long night.

After a the last sumptuous gulp, his fingers suddely spring to life again with a…

INT. TOWNHOUSE ANTECHAMBER – NIGHT

Forty-something guy in a suit is just getting home from work. It’s already dark, and the house is empty. First things first: a beer from the fridge. Next, a tug at the knot of his tie.

He checks his watch, then reaches back into the fridge and grabs another coldie, two peanut butter oatmeal bars and a jar of fresh Nutella.

INT. TOWNHOUSE LOFT

The room is massive. 12′ ceilings. A wall of shaded glass, leading out to a two-story terrace. The blinds are halfway drawn, and light from the city paints the room in two.

He places his dinner on a long glass desk. The monstrous display in front of him jumps back to…

2005 was a turning point of sorts; more sideways than forward, but welcome in every sense of the word. Writing became a very important priority, and it looks to remain so for quite some time. As I continue to explore the real reason I’m here, in this place, at this time, with ideas that are still begging for a place among the white pages of history, I’ve come to realize something important: thought itself is fleeting without action. In fact, when left alone to brood and fester, thought is the very essence of inertia, like a cold and unmoveable stone, tied to the ankle of every great idea you’ve ever had.

in afghan fields, the poppies blow
beneath the mountains, row on row
that mark our peace; and in the skies
the army, bravely singing, flies
scarce heard amid their guns below

we are the dead, short days ago
we lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
loved, and were loved, and now we lie
in afghan fields

take up our quarrel with the foe:
to you, from failing hands we throw
the torch, be yours to hold it high
if ye break faith with us who die
we shall not sleep, though poppies grow
in afghan fields

Math is truly a beautiful thing. It’s a simple and elegant truth that isn’t distracted by words or feelings, and at the same time, explains virtually everything we see and hear and feel. In some cases, it’s simplicity is downright brilliant, and in other cases, it’s brilliance is surprisingly simple. That’s not to suggest that math doesn’t have its inherent complexities — as well as some extremely unusual by-products — but deep at the heart of it all, there’s always some important underlying truth.

In the case of fractal geometry, that truth is inherently beautiful, both in its underlying mathematical functionality, and in its tremendous visual appeal. Every spiraling swirl you…

(this is an exerpt from a short story i wrote way back in high school, inspired by the appauling lack of creativity that’s left in the world)

I gaped, my mouth drawn wide by the magnificence of the building, and wondered why I had never been there before. The incessant sheet of rain falling aimlessly to the ground struck my face as I gazed at the gentle rainbow of light streaming in through the panes of stained glass. It was as if the light was being choked by the air outside, and was only allowed to travel freely once it passed through those coloured walls. Impatient as always, I shook off the spell and pushed open the building’s imperial…

my, how time flies…

may 7, 2005
may 28, 2005
june 7, 2005
june 14, 2005
june 15, 2005
june 15, 2005
june 21, 2005
june 23, 2005
june 29, 2005
august 12, 2005
august 17, 2005
august 31, 2005

on tonight’s program, we marvel at the incredible life of the fishfly. that’s right…the fishfly.

fish-fly
A noun
1 fish_fly, fish-fly
similar to but smaller than the dobsonfly; larvae are used as
fishing bait

Category Tree:
entity
╚object; physical_object
╚living_thing; animate_thing
╚organism; being
╚animal; animate_being; beast; brute; creature; fauna
╚invertebrate
╚arthropod
╚insect
╚neuropteron; neuropteran; neuropterous_insect
╚fish_fly

while the internet has yet to embrace this particular woodland creature, if you’ll indulge me for the next few minutes, it would be my absolute pleasure to introduce you all to the reigning king of insect love.…

one word: distraction.
three times a second.
everywhere.
and all of them, in some way, important.
it seems impossible sometimes.
making time to capture your thoughts.
what a simple pleasure that is:
having the freedom to write.
whenever you feel the need
to put down, on paper,
for decades and centuries to come,
the precise constitution of your mind
at a specific point in time,
at some a specific place,
in some specific way.
sometimes it’s a power cord.
sometimes, a cellphone.
sometimes, even an in-law.
whichever leash you’re wearing,
be sure it isn’t strong enough
to hold you back.
because the writer’s struggle isn’t one of words;
it’s one of ideas.

(the following is an exerpt from a script i wrote “way back in the day”, when i was still “working” with the swissies at that big investment bank…)

so…24 years later…it all comes down to this. looking back at a solid foundation of academics, family-life and social identify, everything seems good and right in the world. everything is as it very well should be. the world actually makes sense. and perhaps more importantly, your place in the world makes sense.

and then, one day, it happens. the world begins to shift…right there under your feet, ripping out the foundations it took you a whole lifetime to build. and you stand there…in your adolescence…in your mid-20s…in your middle-age, in…

One day, many years after the rise of modern man, life suddenly decided that it wanted “love” to be written down, once and for all. “But,” said life, “a writer needs great inspiration to create something so beautiful; and inspiration equally needs a writer’s gentle touch to bring its own subtle poetry into being.”

So life conspired to bring both of these elements into the world, in the hopes that they might someday meet, and together, explore the true meaning of the word “love” for one final time.

Whether and when they would meet was in no way certain. In fact, it was distinctly uncertain. But life wanted “love” to inspire, and “love” only inspires when it’s shared.

So one…

the same snow falls on everything.

it falls on the wealthy

it falls on the weak

it falls on the silent and begs them to speak

to speak…

about snow, and then nothing more

not money or power or wisdom or war

because, in the end

the same snow falls on everything.

(the following is a free-write from a brother of mine, first crafted in the white-hot fires of a surprisingly painful [and painfully surprising] breakup, then cooled and refined in the bitter-sweet bliss that is “the morning after”. if we’re lucky, his posts might become a fairly regular feature here at the rational post, but for now, i hope you enjoy his inagural contribution…)

GSPAN………Adaptive Subconscious

BLINK. I am intense. That is how my colleagues describe me as well as those who know me. I make decisions in the spur of the moment and learn from my experiences. I reflect, synthesize, and delve forward. I describe my feelings and vocalize my thoughts. I thank my friends for being a part of…

(another piece of early creative writing, first conceived during the intensely productive summer of 1998. once again, please pardon any excessive “linguistic enthusiasm”…)

man’s great intention

is every man inclined to greatness?
what sets apart the icons of humanity from the masses?
who provides the “average”
against which the hero’s rank is so often compared?
why do some realize their inherent genius
while others fail to even search?
could every man be as great as the greatest?
and if so, what of those rare and precious few
who’ve been so commendably erected
to the dizzying heights of perpetual praise?

so lucky is the brave stranger who chances to seek
that…

“universal darwinism” – life, evolved

“green eggs and ham” – dr. seuss, sesame street, and the first major revolution in child education

“petrosexuals” – the sexy side of oil

“shall we dance?” – interpersonal communication at its most basic

“mis-noam-er” – the truth about noam chomsky

“the value of value” – things are only worth what everyone says they’re worth

“schizengrűven” – my love hate relationship with volkswagen

“buyers and sellers” – two completely different species

“his story” – history is always written by the victorious. what ever happens to the other guy?

“channel surfing” – advertising as the driving force behind all conventional media content

“trading places” – the role of parents in today’s society as the single…