Uncorked

In an effort to meet new, creative people, I went to a mixer hosted by Austin Creative Alliance at Uncorked, a wine bar on east 7th. The group was mostly theater people, but they were expanding their charter to include all kinds of creative media. I met some theater people and talked about the business of producing plays. One of the guys’ next projects was a show based on the concept of childhood and was gathering childhood stories centered around certain themes.

The wine was okay, but then it was the special happy hour wine. I was drinking a Shiraz called “Wooden Nickel” and was fairly accurate.

I also got a recommendation for an allergist, so bonus, I guess.

Borderlands

Today was a lazy Sunday during which I played Borderlands. I downloaded the Zombie Island expansion. Borderlands itself is a loose parody of Mad Max and the Zombie Island is a direct parody of Left 4 Dead. So if you ever need to waste post-apocalyptic hockey mask-wearing mutants who are also zombies, there’s a game for you.

Beard

I realize that though John Hodgman ruled in my favor and Nick may consider this some kind of victory, I have made inroads toward bearddom. That is, I haven’t shaved for a week or so.

As there is no one around to make out with who might protest, I see no reason to try this out, at least experimentally.

Since I can’t figure out how to force WordPress to gracefully clear a float, I need to add a bunch of extra words so the text doesn’t wrap funny.

And some more words.

Hopefully this is enough.

Nope, it wasn’t.

Oooh, gotta shave that neck stubble.

Geez.

Churlish

Woke up around 6:30 and couldn’t fall back asleep. So I started work. Bad mood most of the day. Little tolerance for bullshit. It’s interesting that when some physical vector gets tweaked it makes my emotions more accessible. It was really easy to feel annoyed or sarcastic or bemused because I didn’t have enough sleep.

El Camino

Obviously, Google Wave was meant to facilitate interactive fiction of the old school variety. So a while back I started an interactive story game called El Camino. Mostly as a diversion, something to put me in a narrative space. The story concerns a man racing across the Arizona highway in an El Camino. He has stolen…something…and is being pursued by persons unknown. Of course, nothing in that description is what it seems.

If you are interested in participating or just reading along, let me know and I will add you to the Wave. If you need a Google Wave invite, I got plenty of those too.

Megan Fox Dream

I remember walking through a hilly area near a creek, like someplace back in the Midwest. I was talking to Megan Fox, but she was someone else. That is, whoever does casting for my dreams selected Megan Fox to play this character. We were just getting to know each other and there was vague romantic interest. She mentioned that she had a contagious illness and soon she wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone. I asked if I could be added to the list of potential kissers.

We walked to an old farmhouse, looking for my friend Jake. We found only traces of him like his baseball cap wedged inside a door handle. A group of serious-looking college frat boys sat around the table in one room, staring at me. Somehow I realized that they weren’t really human and they had killed Jake.

I went into the kitchen to discover than the Megan Fox girl had been replaced by Jake’s wife, Jenny. She was sitting in a rocking chair, knitting, while a tea kettle started to boil. I urgently explained that we needed to leave the house as it was the home of vampires or demons or whatever the frat boys actually were. They had killed Jake. She already knew about this and calmly explained that we needed to stay because Jake’s ghost now haunted the place. We needed to help him seek vengeance.

Suddenly my old-fashioned cell phone started vibrating in my breast pocket. Then it started to burn. This was Jake warning us to run for our lives.

I woke up.

Milk

In an effort to narrow down what causes the horrible phlegm build-up I sometimes experience, I’m going to try eliminating dairy products entirely. From my diet, not from the planet (“We gotta nuke this cow pasture from orbit. Only way to be sure.”) I’m already lactose intolerant, but it seems like after I have a bowl of cereal, even with lactose-free milk, I get all congested.

So I picked up some soy milk and almond milk. I really dreaded this day as I figured soy milk would taste terrible. But it was okay. Or perhaps the Cookie Crisp covered the taste.

I still want to see an allergist to see if there is anything else I should be avoiding. I will also be looking into surgery to correct my deviated septum. Being able to breathe clearly through both nostrils would be nice.

Shall We Play a Game?

I have seven video game platforms. It’s a bit ridiculous, I know. Each one has games waiting for me to finish in some way.

Although I’ve enjoyed playing some of the latest hotness like Bayonetta and Borderlands, I find that they are like meals at fancy restaurants. Really enjoyable while it is happening, but I can’t see myself going back to the restaurant every night until I’ve tried everything on the menu.

I also find that I have a lower tolerance for games I did not buy. If I rented something, I have virtually no investment in the game and it is up to the creators and the power of their art to keep my attention. I never think, “Well, I spent $60 so I really ought to finish this.”

It’s actually been “old” games or retro-style games that have held my attention, especially point and click adventure games. I devoured Machinarium. I recently completed the amusing Ben There, Dan That and the sequel Time Gentlemen, Please! And thanks to Steam’s recent insane holiday sale ($5 for the entire Space Quest series?!), I will be awash in nostalgia for quite some time.

Bayonetta

If you are a British woman with sexy librarian glasses, a skin-tight bodysuit made from your own magical demon hair, and high heels that are also pistols, then I would like to invite you out to a nice dinner and perhaps a gallery opening. If you can take a break from slaughtering angels, that is.

Cold

I am no longer tolerant of the cold of my Midwestern heritage. Spoiled by the relative warmth of the American Southwest, the cold is an invader, a threat.

But when I was a child, I relished going out into the snow. I would stand as far up the snow-covered driveway as possible, bright red plastic boat sled pulled to my chest, and run towards the back yard. I’d launch myself into the air, land with a crunch in the snow, and slide at great speed down the slope of the yard towards the woods, seeing how long I could stay on before having to throw myself out of the way of the oncoming briars.

Then I would lie there and let the thick, perfect silence fill my ears like frozen cotton. The sky was an empty grey, unfinished. Only my puffs of breath hinted that the world existed at all.