Thursday, May 29, 2003

"Night of the Shape": One of Electric Wizard's greatest tunes, and an amazing piece of music to write and/or think to.


H.P. Lovecraft: All his flaws and idiosyncrasies aside, one of the 20th century's greatest writers, and the perfect
author to read every night before bed.


Moving: Immense hassle that it is, it gives one the chance to sit in a room stripped of decoration and ruminate over
any number of things.


Paranoia: Horrifying, yet exhilarating. Spend several years reading strange books and removing yourself from the
company of others, add a window to peer out of periodically, and mix with an innate distrust of government and
virtually all other institutions, and you're on your way to becoming fast friends with non-clinical paranoia.


np: Electric Wizard, Dopethrone




Fuck this horribly typeset piece of shit "blog" thing. Ever since my ferret went nuts on the keyboard during my absence,
it's never looked right. I'm no perfectionist, but damn, poorly-set text is a nightmare (with certain exceptions- see Mark
Danielewski's intentionally typographically nightmarish novel House of Leaves).

I'll be living in Houston in two days. This fact still hasn't sunk in, really, and won't for a while, since for most of June
I'll be staying in Conroe. I refuse to commute from H-Town to my current job five days a week for chump change, especially
since this place is 99% likely to go under within a month. Unemployment line, here I fuckin' come.

Sounds like Ted and Sean are makin' it. Having recently read
Ted's post about the greatness of drinking beer, I wholeheartedly agree. Beer for breakfast is pretty good, though I
don't usually have any sort of breakfast at all, save perhaps cigarettes. I hope Ted runs his Unknown Armies game again
soon. That shit is bound to be good, and I only got to play one game!

More later, maybe, unless I actually get home and do the packing I'm supposed to. Yeah, right.

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

It looks like everything's in place for my novel, Axis Mundi Sum, to go to print in the near future. I hope I get a
set of galleys to look at before the text is sent to the printer, just so I can make sure everything looks all right. In all
honesty, I'm really nervous about this whole process, since it's the first time I've done it, I have few concrete ideas on
how to promote the book, and, naturally, I have doubts as to the quality and salesworthiness (is that a word?) of my work.
If I'm lucky, I'll sell a couple thousand copies and get reviews from quiet, far-flung corners of the literary world, which is
all I really want. Sure, I'd love to make enough to quit my day job, and I'd certainly like to get future novels published-
particularly Critical Hits, the one I'm working on now, but frankly, I've already achieved one of my life's goals just
by getting a novel published. I'd merely like to extend that dream to last a lifetime. I say lifetime because I'd like my work
to revert to the public domain no more than a decade after I leave this mortal coil.


My ferret, clever fellow that he is, escaped some time last night, and was found in my neighbors' garage, thank God. I had
no idea how he made his break, but after getting home, getting apprised of the situation, and stationing myself on the porch
for a cigarette, I saw him dart under my car! It was then that I discovered his escape route via the recently-vacated dryer connection.
When Jay moved out his washer and dryer, it left a gaping ferret-sized hole to the outside world, and Tim Finnegan promptly
investigated the hole's explorational possibilities. Now the laundry room is closed off, so I shouldn't have to worry. Christ, though,
I was horrified that he got out, since who knows what could have killed him. Now he's safe, though, and getting plenty of tasty
raisins.


Oh yeah: kim chee and beer mix strangely.

Friday, May 23, 2003


What's today? Today is the day that the Law of Fives is perfectly seen through the filter of the Gregorian calendar!

5/23/2003! 2+3=5 and 2+0+0+3=5!

It just gets better at 5:23 PM (I slept through the first occurance of 5:23 this morning.) Two moments when the
holiest number appears + # of fives in the date= FIVE!

Go nuts, fellow Discordians! HAIL ERIS! ALL HAIL DISCORDIA!

Thursday, May 22, 2003

Gnosticism and other weird strains of Christianity are, I think, the only things that have kept me fascinated with Christianity
since I stopped considering myself a 'Christian.' While I have yet to philosophize on Christ and all the strangeness that
surrounds him as thoroughly as I'd like, I still think that there's some truth to the notion of a messiah, if only because
mankind has consistently proven that its bad streak seems to grossly outweigh its good one, and therefore needs
some semblance of redemption. Of course, it could be several years of being surrounded by Christian dogma talking, but whatever the case, I simply cannot deny the value of the Christ-ideal.

Not to say that most of the people passing themselves off as Christians, especially in America, have anything to do with
my notions about ol' working-class Yeshua of Nazareth. No, fundamentalism does nothing but scare me- on several levels- and does absolutely for the virtues of scholarship and well-reasoned theological/philosophical thought, and I think that Christ would (or is, depending on what you believe) be quite depressed by how those who claim to dedicate their lives to him act. At least, that's what I like to think; one of my biggest unfounded fears is that the fundamentalists are right, and while I have no proof, or belief, that they're any more correct than I am, I still worry. Most of the time, I think it's old-fashioned religious guilt at work, but I cannot help but wonder am I right or am I wrong, and what will happen to me if I'm wrong?

A pox upon any faith or philosophy that makes a man doubt the validity of his own introspection.

np: Cathedral, "Astral Queen" (from Endtyme. This song forces one to make a journey across the plain/plane of the soul, and
for that it will always remain one of the best mellowing-out songs I've ever heard... even by Cathedral's own standards.)


Tuesday, May 20, 2003

I'm currently installing Deus Ex, which I've heard a lot of good things about recently- foremost
among them that it caters to paranoid mentalities such as my own. My only complaint, and hopefully
the game will render this statement null and void (ha! an unwitting reference to my novel there), is that
it's first-person. I'm an old-school third-person gamer, hence my general aversion to computer games
for the past several years, excepting The Longest Journey, which I barely started, and Grim
Fandango
, one of the best, most atmospheric games ever made.

I've never felt the Internet to be a place to discuss anything but inane shit and momentary pseudo-
intellectual notions, which is why you'll never see any gristly (yes, gristly, think Pound's notion
of "paideuma") personal material here. Not that anyone wants to, of course.

Monday, May 19, 2003


Wasted much of the day taking care of trivialities regarding my impending move. On the
way home, Sara and I saw that it was 104 degrees outside. I need not say more.

I could use a beer, but I'm too lazy to go buy any. I'm also out of gin, so maybe I'll have
to resort to (ugh) vodka and tonic with a little bitters. Or, perhaps, raki or Pernod on ice. We're
also out of bourbon, you see, so I have to fall back on the liquor we rarely drink.

The ball's rolling again with my new novel. I just hope it doesn't slow down anytime soon.
I'd like to have it finished by the end of the year, though given my usual work habits, that's
not too likely. Maybe if I push myself a little harder...

Saw Dogtown & Z-Boys this weekend, something I've been wanting to see for a while.
Very cool, even if you were never into skateboarding; certainly made me want to go buy a
deck and cruise around for the hell of it, just like I did twelve years ago. Good soundtrack,
too.

I think it's time for that vodka and tonic.

Friday, May 16, 2003


The new Matrix flick is worth your time, if only because its summer-blockbuster approach to basic
philosophical ideas is entertaining enough to make you and your friends jabber about it for a few
days. Alternately, it's worth your time if you're interested in how teenagers, armed with technology
I have yet to indulge in and cigarettes they're too young to legally smoke, act when forced to mill
around en masse in a relatively small space. But that depends on what theatre you go to, I reckon.

Be back later. Asshole coworker fucking w/ computer.

Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Electric Wizard, one of the best bands I've heard in the past two or three years, has
apparently broken up. I assume Jus Osborn, the guitarist/vocalist, wrote most of the
music, and I hope he doesn't give it up; songs like "Weird Tales," "...A Chosen Few,"
"Stone Magnet," and so on are phenomal experiences. Not just songs, but
experiences. Listen to "Weird Tales" after a few deep hits of good smoke, and you'll
know exactly what I mean- especially if you're into pulp fantasy and misanthropy.

Speaking of doomy, dense shit, Sleep's "Dopesmoker" (what most of us these days
know as "Jerusalem") is being re-released this month. Not content with 52 minutes
of Gnostic dirge, "Dopesmoker" will apparently be the original 65 minutes- ALL ONE
TRACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!

Work sucks more cock than San Francisco, as always. So does poverty.
At least I've got booze and tobacco to stave off hunger.

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

Beer and cigarettes, Jesus and technology: tonight's conversation
fuels/pieces. Excellent stuff.

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: one of the biggest influences on
my life, and something I hope to be playing soon.

Alan Moore: Genius. One day, maybe some poor schizophrenic
will look upon me as I do Mr. Moore.

Nasht and Kaman-Thah: Despite many efforts, I have yet to meet
and converse with them.

The intertwining of heart and brain: my ultimate goal.

Good night, world. Know this: I want nothing more than what you
have to offer.




Monday, May 12, 2003

We've finally got AC back, albeit temporarily. The final repairs should be done this week, but for the time being, I'm enjoying my freon fix.

This article and this one is about Jayson Blair, the NY Times journalist who recently got caught writing PURE FUCKING FICTION and
passing it off as reality. Despite a long record of being chided by his editors for mistakes and whatnot, the Times claims that they had no
idea that Blair was essentially a pathological liar, or just a lazy, unprincipled journalist, wielding a pen and the paper's finances.
Interesting story, but it makes me think. All right, this guy's a fucking fake, right, palgiarizing and making stuff up for the paper and lying about
his expenses. Not good. However, this is merely a blatant example of what happens EVERY DAMNED DAY. When editors and boards
prevent journalists from printing certain things, they're essentially doing the same thing Blair did: lying to the public. They're just omitting
things instead of fabricating them, which is simply a more subtle way of controlling what information reaches the public.


Now, this Blair dude is obviously not the man to be reporting on what's happening in the world, because he utterly lacks ethics. But so do plenty
of other journalists and their bosses, who are beholden to any number of corporate and/or governmental interests. Like I said, they filter out
what comes across their desks at the behest of the powerful "boards and syndicates," to use Bill Burroughs' term, who have no interest
in actually informing people as to how the world works. Shareholders, editorial boards, whatever- they manipulate what you read and watch, and
then, when one of their lackeys gets caught lying through his teeth, they wash their hands of him and try to convince everyone that there are
only a few bad egges, like Blair, in the world of journalism. Never mind that newspapers routinely whitewash governmental and corporate misdeeds,
promote wars, and generally do their utmost to muddle the average man's understanding of world events. The media in general are about as unethical
as Jayson Blair- no, they're far more unethical, because they demand their employees to hold themselves to a standard that they themselves will
not. They, after all, are management, and everybody knows that it's never management that fucks up, just the workers.


Fuck 'em all, and fuck their lies.

Saturday, May 10, 2003


I wonder what life on Arrakis, the main focus of the Dune novels, would have been like if there had refrigeration, or if the Fremen could
have kept their water stored as ice.

It's almost a boon that it's so hot right now. It's making me think about things I usually take for granted.
Day two of the battle against heat. I stocked up on beer and bought tonic for gin and tonics, the quintessential alcoholic heat-killer. Word is that we'll get our AC fixed tomorrow. Until then, I've gotta monitor my ferret closely, lest he overheat.

Speaking of the ferret, he seems to have screwed up the word wrap feature on this thing, and I frankly don't know how to fix it. Damnation!
M\\\\?tttttttttttttttvfgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggguyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyypoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo












k,.]]]]]]]]]]































.//////////////////////oikfvvvvvvvvvvuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu72389dsss

I wonder how long Southerners have been drinking bourbon on the rocks. It would make sense that they've been doing it as long as possible, given the sticky heat that \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
m\kes the South




NOTE: I started this post four hours ago, then ended up shootin' the shit with Andy and then going to the bar. After that, we cruised around Spring, and I came home to find the above changes made to my post, courtesy of my ferret. I have opted to leave them as is. God bless that clever albino beast!

Friday, May 09, 2003


The bane of all Texans has struck my house. Naturally, it had to do so mere weeks before I move out, and because this horrible demon chose to show its face now, I will have to pay money to fight it. Money I do not have.

I am talking about the demise of my air conditioning. I have experienced, thankfully, few days in Texas without it, if you don't count time spent in my car, which hasn't had AC in years. Now, however, I am stricken, and probably for the entire weekend. I can handle it, I'm sure, but I'm more worried about my ferret, who is adverse to heat. Should the demon make any attempt upon Tim Finnegan's life, there will be dire consequences.

Get thee behind me, Satan!


I hate the word "blog." Not for what it means, of course, but for the way it sounds. It's almost too juvenile a term for the logging of one's thoughts and online finds, which is not necessarily an art- actually, far from it- but at least a potentially aesthetic sort of mnemonic tool-cum-research pattern. It's amazing how much shit you can find just by following a random string of hypertext, and how much those strings make you remember half-buried thoughts, websites, and so forth. No, "blog" doesn't cut it. I need to find another word.

This is a great place to read up on the lives of people like me, but not really that much like me. The proprietors are some old buddies from college, and, like me, they seems to be blundering their way through life with at least some nominal idea o what they want to do. Worth your time, chumps. So is this. And then there's good old Flatland Books, home of Flatland Magazine and a catalog of more weird books than you can imagine.

While you're at it, don't forget to celebrate idleness, which Kierkegaard said was not the root of all evil, but the only true good. He is, as he often tends to be, correct. If everone spent less time doing things, especially working, life would be worth living.

Thursday, May 08, 2003


Given the lighter-than-air nature of my body, it's a good thing that I have hundreds of gold krugerrands bolted to my bones. Otherwise, I'd float off like an untethered zeppelin.
Went to the Big Easy tonight with Scott, Andy, and Jessica. $5 pitchers of Lone Star go a long way toward convincing me to do things I'd otherwise not do. While there, I saw this bad-ass guitarist named Rick Lee (or so I recall him being named), an Asian who played better than any guitarist that followed him. He was cool, and I'm not even into the blues that much.

Before going to the Big Easy, I talked online with Katharine, who was the classiest chick I knew when I went to Mary Washington College for a year. She seems to be doing well, and while I probably sounded like an absolute jackass who'd had too many beers, I was very pleased to converse with her again, since it's been four years.

And now... Rush. "Lakeside Park" is a fantastic song.

np: Rush, Caress of Steel

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

V-E-N-O-fucking-M!

Venom fucking rules. "Witching Hour," "In Nomine Satanas," "Black Metal," "Angel Dust," "Bursting Out," "Possessed," "At War With Satan"... CAN YOU GET ANY BETTER THAN THAT? CAN YOU?

I THINK NOT!

np: Venom, In Leage With Satan

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

Cranks, while sometimes creepy, are what makes the world go 'round. Really, what fun is life and the philosophies it spawns without some highly weird people to go against the grain by promoting bizarre theories? Would religions be interesting without hermits, stylites, and heretics? Would science be interesting without phrenology or the notion of the Hollow Earth? For every "legitimate" discovery man makes, we make a dozen others that might prove delusional, unsubstantiated, or simply too weird for society to accept, and it's those ideas that make life really fascinating. Not to denigrate the advancements that have created everyday life as we know it, but let's be honest, even particle physics doesn't seem as appealing as a quiet guy who spends a decade working on a 2000-page dissertation about the secret life of angels, complete with footnotes dictated by heavenly powers.

Yeah, cranks- who, to be fair, may actually know what's going on, but just don't have any number of certain factors behind them- are the intriguing soul of the intellectual world.

Saturday, May 03, 2003

Dude, this is the funniest shit on the net, and I owe my brother for showing it to me. I'm gonna go download an IRC client when I get home.

X-Men 2 was cool. Not completely in line with the comics, naturally, but definitely enjoyable. Too little Colossus, but the setup for the next flick is pretty damned cool. Chances are you won't catch it unless you read X-Men back in the late '80s or so, but even if that's the case I think it'll make for a cool third movie.

By the way, unless you actually give a shit about trying to look hip, don't waste your time going to the Proletariat on Richmond. Their cheap Lone Stars aren't enough to bring me back to that poorly laid-out, red-walled joint anytime soon. At least I went there for the right reasons.

I use the word "cool" too much when I post.

Friday, May 02, 2003

Check this out for a good laugh.

How the hell am I going to promote my book? I'm trying to tell everyone I meet to tell everyone they meet to buy it, but I suspect that'll only go so far. I need about $250 so I can buy a bunch of copies and send them to random people, magazines, and so forth. I also need people to write reviews for websites, especially Slashdot, RPG.net, and other sites pandering to geeks, which my book does.

Tonight I'm going to see X-Men 2, which, even if it sucks, will innately be superior to the first one because it has none other than Nightcrawler, the greatest X-Man ever to grace the four-color page. After that, I believe I'm trekking downtown to celebrate my friend Danielle's birthday. It's gonna be a long night, made even longer by having to get up tomorrow morning and come to work at 8 AM.

Time for a cigarette. While I'm away, ponder synesthesia. I know nothing about it, so I'm leaving it up to you. Also: if you like Alan Moore, read his two-issue comic "The Courtyard." If you're a Lovecraft fan, it'll be an even cooler experience.

Thursday, May 01, 2003

Voivod kicked ass.

Despite the sound cutting out halfway through their second song, Quebec's finest export kicked a lot of ass. They didn't play "Invisible Planet," alas, but hell, it was worth the price of admission. I also got a spiffy t-shirt, opting for clothing over beer. Snake, the vocalist, is funny as hell to watch on stage, and Piggy, the guitarist, played this weird guitar made out of what appeared to be aluminum tubing. The drummer, Away, struck me as looking a lot like a less aged, heavy metal version of William Gibson, a comparison I'm sure Away would get a laugh out of.

I met Jason Newsted, who wandered around the crowd during the sonic blackout. He wasn't signing autographs, which I thought was cool, and he talked to everyone who approached him, myself included. I gave him all the information about my novel, and told him that I figured he and the rest of Voivod would enjoy it, given the themes they deal with. He asked me how old I was (I'm 23, if you didn't know) and, upon finding out, told me I was already on my way to doing fine in life. Everyone always tells me that I'm ahead of the curve, given that I'm only 23 and I've got a novel coming out, and I tend to just shrug off those kinds of remarks. Coming from Jason Newsted, though, it sounded completely different, and seeing as how he's making a living doing what he loves, it's pretty heartening.

So here I sit, at a job that might vanish into thin air within a month. It's May Day, which the assholes here in America have decided should be dedicated as a "National Day of Prayer" and "Law Day" simultaneously. God forbid the working class, whose day this should be, gets to say "fuck you, boss" in solidarity all over the world. No, May Day's for the commies. We've got Labor Day. Fuck, why did I come to work today?

I hope Voivod reads my novel, and I hope the working class finally gets its shit together, stops working, and tells all the bosses, managers, scabs, scissorbills, and plutocratic assholes that WORK IS FOR CHUMPS.