ChrisRusso's Xanga

NaNoWriMoNo

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 01:06:50 GMT

It didn't really happen.

See, I made that Big Announcement that I was leaving off blogging in order to do some National Novel Writing Month writing. That was on November 3rd.

Somewhere around November 8th it was revealed to me that the little short essay that was due the following week was in actuality a 25-pager. I dropped everything to work on that puppy.

Two days after the 25-pager was due, another (albeit shorter) paper was due, so I had to buckle down and take care of that too.

Two days after that, our apartment flooded, courtesy of Hurricane Ida. Well-and-truly flooded this time, nearly six inches of water in our kitchen, our bedroom, our living room... We lost the bookcases, as particle board doesn't take kindly to be submerged--it turns into wet cardboard--but we saved almost all the books, and all the good bits of furniture. Thus the next two days were spent pulling out everything we own, ripping up sodden carpet, throwing out bookcases--with the help of over fourteen people from our church who showed up to help. (Yay for when the Body of Christ pulls together!)

For the past two-and-a-half weeks we've been living in my parents' basement, with everything we own either at my in-laws' or in my parent's garage. My parents have been wonderful in their generosity in helping us pull through this rough time, but it has not been conducive to novel-writing. With any luck we'll start to move back in--to our freshly re-insulated, re-carpeted apartment--by Sunday.

Thus, my NaNoWriMo didn't really happen. November's a rough time for students (and teachers) anyway. Perhaps I'll try again in January.

Nevertheless, I did promise y'all a bit of fiction when I got back, so here's a passage that I worked up during the chaos of this month...

###

You might, perhaps, think that Morris and Foster used their time wisely. Perhaps you imagine that they sailed the landyacht in a winding path, guaranteed to throw off any pursuit. Perhaps they found a hidden shelter to conceal their vehicle in. Perhaps they deliberately abandoned the vehicle, rigging it to sail on without them, while they crouched among the long grasses, virtually invisible.

The truth is that they did nothing of the sort. Morris can probably be excused for such a shortcoming: while the student's imagination was teeming and his instincts strong, he had no experience in evasion. His dazed mind and reeling emotions were having a hard enough time processing all that had happened in the last few hours. As for the one-legged old man, perhaps he did not have as strong a grasp of tactics as he himself believed. His only thought was to reach the nearest village post-office as quickly as possible and telegraph his report to the Fleet.

Whatever the reason, their flight continued in a straight line, unwavering, unerringly pointing towards Brighthall, following no road or path. The little landyacht plowed through the grasses, bumping up against hidden ruts. Its three wheels whined; its sails bulged and stretched. Above, the sky—grey as with a coming storm, with darker clouds scudding across—was a perfect hemisphere, an unbroken dome above the flat world.

Morris sat alone in the pilot's perch atop the square black hull. He squinted at the controls, but his eyes kept tearing. He had always ridden inside on the passenger bench-seats, screened from the wind, where the thoroughbraces helped to minimize the bouncing motion. And while the pilot's perch had a measure of padding, unlike the hard seats below, it was completely open to the wind. Morris understood now why coach pilots always wore goggles.

The thump of the passenger door opening was barely audible over the sound of the wheels; hands appeared on the roof edge, then Foster's head peered up. "How's the wind?"

"Still steady from the east," said Morris. "I haven't really had to do anything except hold the tiller still."

"Do you want me t'come up and take a turn? You've been at it for at least an hour now."

A desire to be out of the wind warred with concern for the old man, and Morris hesitated.

"Here," said Foster, and awkwardly clambered the rest of the way up to the perch, leaving his crutch below. He pulled himself up beside Morris. Morris moved to make room, but remained on the perch. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sound of the world rushing by.

"Willard should be safe, I think," the old man said suddenly.

"Willard?"

"My mate, the other operator. The one that ran for his ladylove. He should be safe enough. I don't know what the ships were doing, back in Brockhurst town, but they won't be bothering with simple folk. They'll fight soldiers, hang spies, or shoot down ships, but folk will be all right." He huffed through his broad nose. "Willard's ladylove would have been fine on her own. But had I a ladylove, I might have run back for her too."

Morris said nothing and squinted out at the grasslands, all gray in the cloud-light.

"What about you? You have someone back in town you care for?"

"Not really."

"A sweetheart waiting for you back home, then?"

Morris looked down. "There's this one girl. Leola. She's my classmate Keller's younger sister. But she's not my sweetheart."

"Oh? And why not?"

He didn't answer. Suddenly he found himself resenting this line of questioning. "She's just not," he said, hearing the bite to his voice. "She scarcely knows I exist. I don't have time for sweethearts right now."

Foster seemed a bit taken aback. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have pried. I wanted t'know my fellow traveler better."

"Do you now?" Morris snapped. A pause, and he added in a softer voice, "I'm sorry. It's nerves, I expect."

"Get below," said Foster kindly. "You'll feel better. I'll call if I need you."

It was a frightening thing, climbing down the side of the landyacht while the grasses rolled by. Morris's feet carefully felt for each rung, afraid to trust any weight to them until he was certain of his footing. When he was able to kick open the passenger door and swing himself inside, it was a relief: his ears rang with the absence of wind, and even the rattle and squeak of the wheels was muted.

He sat on the hard boards near the window, put his feet up on the bench, and hugged his body. The seat bounced against his tailbone. He sighed, put his head back, and tried not to think about Trothbridge and Keller and Leola, or about Father and home.

Chrisrusso is leaving Xanga...

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 01:25:37 GMT

...for a month.

I'm not quite participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), yet I am going to try to take this month to write more. I want to finish this novella I've been plinking away at for a year, and though I have no illusions that I'll finish it this month, It'd be nice to make some headway.

So I decided that all the energy and time I normally put into writing thoughtful blog entries and comments will, for 30 days, go into my fiction writing instead. So, starting today, I'm going to stop posting and commenting for a one-month period.

I'll miss you, Xanga, but it's for a good cause. I'll see you all on December 3rd, hopefully with a nice shiny new post.

Try not to break Xanga while I'm gone. *grin*

--C

Shadows

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 02:59:09 GMT

They rustled and hissed amongst themselves like restless leaves in the wind. One, bolder than the rest, tried to skitter past me.

I twisted Vanmoriel in my hands, three feet of gleaming steel scything through the dim light. The little shadow danced back, but not quick enough--half its dark substance sliced cleanly from itself. Its wail trembled out into the night.

They made no more escape attempts after that, but clustered tighter together, whispering. I had them cornered along the side of the house, behind the garbage cans.

What do you want with us? one shadow spat.

Vanmoriel's tip flicked out to point at the speaker. "You tried to enter my home," I said coldly. "Again."

They swirled together, agitated. Look, said one. We didn't mean much harm. It's just our nature.

"Yes," said I. "And this is my nature." I shifted the sword to my left hand; with my right, I fished a small glass bottle from my shirt pocket. With my teeth, I pulled out the cork.

No, they cried, no!

Half an hour later, my wife came home, to find me clearing a space on the shelf above my desk.

"Oh," she said, "Something new for your collection?"

"Yes," said I, placing the full bottle beside the jar of Fetch claws.

Airship Pirates

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 00:52:55 GMT

Happy Halloween, all!

Hallowe'en Poetry Challenge

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 19:33:06 GMT

Think of this as a mere continuation or counterpart to Saakara's masterful take on the subject. He has a better reading voice than I, I'm afraid. (Check out the Faeries poem especially.)

We should keep Saakara's original idea going. Record yourself reading some of your favorite scary poems and upload them!

"The Bells" by Edgar Allen Poe
(Rough one to read, there at the end--I need to work on my breath control.)

"Hallowe'en in a Suburb" by H.P. Lovecraft

"Vampire Sestina" by Neil Gaiman
(If you don't know what a sestina is, it's a bloody difficult-to-write form of poetry.)

"The Hidden Chamber" by Neil Gaiman

Let Saakara or I know when you've uploaded your own scary poetry recitations! If you can't think of any poems to read, I recommend "The Highwayman" by Noyes, "The Raven" by Poe, Donne's "The Apparition," or the Witches' song from Shakespeare's Macbeth.

Participants thus far:
Saakara
Myself
Jill Pole (Not a poetry reading, but the next best thing.)

Why I Love Atheists

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 17:28:37 GMT

"An atheist, like a Christian, holds that we can know whether or not there is a God. The Christian holds that we can know there is a God; the atheist, that we can know there is not." --Bertrand Russell

I really do love atheists, you know. Atheism, next to paganism, has to be my favorite non-Christian belief system.

Because at the heart of it, atheists care.

They think that it matters whether there is or isn't a God. They think that this question is important. And while they and I come to two very different answers to that question, we are kin in that we come to answers. In a world that tells us "all religions and belief systems are equally valid" or "it doesn't matter what you believe, as long as you're true to it," both atheists and theists scream "It matters!"

A prime illustration is G.K. Chesterton's little parable The Ball and the Cross, which I highly recommend. It tells the story of Turnbull, publisher and editor of an atheistic newspaper who tries to fight against the dominant "Christian" elements of Victorian England, and yet cannot get a rise out of the general public because no-one cares enough.

"It was in vain that he cried with an accusing energy that the Bishop of London was paid £12,000 a year for pretending to believe that the whale swallowed Jonah. It was in vain that he hung in conspicuous places the most thrilling scientific calculations about the width of the throat of a whale. Was it nothing to them all they that passed by? ...He had said the worst thing that could be said; and it seemed accepted and ignored like the ordinary second best of the politicians. Every day his blasphemies looked more glaring, and every day the dust lay thicker upon them."

After years of being so ignored, the first person who treats Turnbull's atheism with a "real respect and seriousness"--the first person to even read Turnbull's articles all the way through--is MacIan, a fiercely devout Catholic from the backwoods of Scotland, new to London and not yet jaded in matters of religious belief. ("What is the good of words if they aren't important enough to quarrel over?" he asks.) MacIan is so incensed by what he reads on the newsprint in Turnbull's window that he smashes the window, kicks his way into the office of The Atheist and challenges Turnbull to a duel, to which Turnbull enthusiastically agrees (thrilled at last to have someone who actually listens, someone who is actually angry with his ideas).

The two men are hampered in their efforts to fight their duel, however--firstly because duels are illegal, but also because every person they encounter tries to talk them out of it. "Religion is--a--too personal a matter... The most religious people are not those who talk about it," says one. "...You ought to be more broadminded," says another. And (while I won't spoil the ending for you), as the two men flee from place to place throughout England searching for a quiet place to have their duel, they find that they are quite coming to like each other.

It is that which I love about atheists. They think that these questions of reality or existence are worth fighting for, worth arguing over. They think that it matters whether God is or is not.

Those who tell me that every religion/belief system is the same, or that every religion/belief system is just as good as the others, are making a value claim. Because if it is true that all religions and belief systems are equally valid, it would only be true if they were equally worthless, equally meaningless. When one belief claims that the Good is found by detaching oneself from the needs and desires of the body, and another belief claims that the Good is found by plunging in and changing the world for the better, and another belief claims that the Good is found by isolating oneself from other people, how can they all be true? When one claims that God is pleased if we behave and follow his laws, and another claims that God is pleased if we admit that we haven't behaved and throw ourselves on his mercy, and another claims that God doesn't really care what we do, and another claims that God doesn't exist and we shouldn't be fixated on pleasing a nonexistent figment at the expense of humanity--how can these all be true? If all belief systems are equally valid, equally true, then "true" means little more than "what makes me happy." (And that in and of itself is a truth-claim.) If each religion and belief system is only as good as all the others, then they are meaningless, and the question of whether there is or is not such a thing as a god (and what God/gods are like if there is) simply isn't important enough to bother over.

But Atheism says, "God/gods/deity do not exist." It makes a clear statement regarding the validity of other belief structures; it uncategorically states that belief structures which contradict its own are wrong, because the universe cannot be contradictory (God cannot exist and not-exist at the same time). And by making such a claim, it places importance on the issue: the question of whether there is such a thing as a deity not only can be answered, but should.

So while I disagree with their answer, I love atheists for answering. I respect and admire their stance. Because, in answering, they acknowledge the importance of the question--which is far more than most people do.

Blood

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 12:01:20 GMT

"But why does it bleed?" asked Einar, his hand half-raised as though to touch the frame.

Death did not smile, but there was a hint of wryness about her cold black eyes. Why does anything bleed?

"Because it is wounded. Or if it is giving birth."

Just so. Death would not come near the painting: she lingered back while Einar pressed closer. The blood is the life, Once-mortal.

Einar reached out then, his hand almost brushing the canvas surface, where pale oils traced an elegant female form. The red was a shocking splash against that wan face, the blood oozing up through the paint, dripping slowly down like tears.

"It is... she is very beautiful."

Death said nothing, only watched.

"So is she birthing, or is she wounded?" He turned, and his bright blue eyes seem slightly dazed.

Ultimately they are the same, said Death. Remember what your Hemingway said about creating his art. He said all you must do is sit down and--

"--Open a vein," Einar finished quietly.

Hindu Blessings and The Law of Love

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 17:47:05 GMT

Several years back, at the church I attended during college, one of their sponsored missionaries asked if he could organize a brief little missions trip. Not a month-long, nor even a week-long, but only for a day: this missionary's mission field was Jackson Heights, Queens, an hour away. He wanted a couple of us to understand the rich multiculturalism of the area. He had the eight of us hand out foreign-language tracts on the subway station. He explained to us some of the difficulty of explaining Christianity to, say, a Muslim mindset. But the highlight of the trip was when he had us visit two temples and a mosque, not as evangelists, but merely as visitors.

We were actually turned away from the first two houses of worship. The mosque was not entertaining visitors at that time, and at the first Hindu temple we visited the gods were "having lunch." By the time we reached the second temple, however, lunch was over, and we were welcomed inside.

I don't know if you've ever been inside a Hindu temple, but this place was beautiful. You came into this big room where large statues stood against the far wall: Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. All along the other walls, and all along these balconies looking down into this room, were statues of other gods (or of avatars of the main three): I recognized Krishna and Ganesh, but many of the others I did not know. In one corner of the gallery there was this sort of phallic rock that you were supposed to pour milk over; in another, this really stunning mural depicting he birth of Krishna.

The priest was very kind; he showed us all around the place, explaining his faith as best he could despite a limited mastery of English. There were times when I had to help him explain, drawing from what I remembered from my Comp Religion class: he was having a hard time articulating that all the Hindu gods are believed to be aspects of the divine force, the Brahman.

After showing us around, he offered us some fruit which the gods had just finished "eating." (Apparently when the gods eat something, they only eat its essence, and when they're done humans can eat what's left. I could feel my fellow Christians sort of freeze in place, the wheels turning. What was that Paul said about food sacrificed to idols? Seeing our hesitation, the priest offered to bless us: still nine Christians hesitated, all but shrinking back. Would that be right? Shouldn't we stay away from having someone pray to other gods for us, as good Christians?

Then Artie Martin, the leader of my church's men's group, stepped up with a big smile. "Sure," he said.

The priest annointed Artie's forehead with some reddish sort of oil and prayed over him in a language I couldn't understand. Artie kept his head bowed respectfully until the priest was done. Then he said, "Thank you so much. And, may I bless you in return?" When the priest assented, Artie laid hands on him and prayed aloud to Jesus, asking that God would watch over the old man's life, that he would come to know how much God loved him. The priest seemed a little quizzical, but thanked Artie for his blessing, and renewed his offer of fruit. Artie cheerfully took a banana.

That always struck me, even years later. When the rest of us cringed back, wondering what was right and what was wrong to do, Artie reacted in love. He accepted the blessing of what is, from Christianity's perspective, a false god--in order to show our God's love in return. Artie demonstrated the Law of Love.

Jesus of Nazareth told the story of a Jewish man beated by robbers and left for dead on the side of the road. Two of his fellow countrymen passed by: a Jewish priest and a Levite, both religious men, both respected. Both crossed over to the other side of the road. Why did they do this? Recently the members of my Bible study were trying to get into their heads, come up with possible motivations. Perhaps the priest needed to be at a religious gathering. Perhaps they were both afraid that the man was already dead, and that by touching him they would make themselves ritually unclean. From a religious standpoint, there are plenty of justifications for not stopping to help a man on the side of the road. Yet the one who finally stopped to help--a Samaritan, a half-breed, one who followed a faith that was basically a perversion of Judaism--ignored all such justifications and boundaries of ethnicity and religion. The Good Samaritan followed the Law of Love, which always places people first before all else save God--the law which outranks concerns of ritual or cleanliness.

When asked to sum up the Jewish Law--a thousand rules regarding ritual, hygeine, government, and society--Jesus boiled them down to two: love God, love your neighbor. Loving your neighbor will often be inconvenient, costly, and risky. But Jesus put people before his own needs--going without sleep to care for them, going out of his way to help them, and ultimately giving his life to rescue them. If we as Christians claim to be followers of Jesus, we must follow his example of sacrificial loving.

Even if that means eating an idol-sacrificed banana or two.

Fox News, Subjective Viewpoints, and Postmodernism

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 19:46:54 GMT

Really, I wouldn't think that "Fox News has bias" is worth blogging about.

See, I thought we were in a postmodern era here. And if there's one thing that postmoderns believe, it's that nothing--no viewpoint, no article, no sentence--is without bias. See, the subjectivist viewpoint of knowledge holds that knowledge and reality are shaped by language. In other words, the type of language we use to describe something shapes our perceptual reality regarding that something. It's in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, and you've got some African-American guy pulling stuff out of a water-gutted store: is he "scavenging" "supplies" or is he "looting" "merchandise?" A man in Afghanistan stands with an AK-47: is he a "freedom fighter" or a "terrorist?" A man wins a close election: does he "steal" the election or does he "win" the election or does he "push through to victory" in the election? In this understanding of reality, our individual reality is shaped by the language we use to describe it.

And don't go thinking there's neutral language, either--according to this theory, no language is truly neutral. Sure, you can speak about the issue in a cold and detached tone, eliminating words with an obvious emotional appeal--but that in and of itself is a stance, is a bias. Detached and clinical language is not necessarily neutral, but has its own subtleties of meaning--if your significant other referred to what you do as "copulation" rather than "making love," tell me there isn't a layer of meaning there.

So really, in this age where postmodern/subjectivist understanding of reality is the reigning paradigm, it makes little to no sense to complain about a news organization's bias. It's like a "No, duh!" sort of statement, because every news organization staffed by humans is going to have a bias. Sure, Fox's leanings are far more blatant than others'--far more blatant and loud, they almost don't even try to appear objective--but the others are not wholly exempt from the same problem.

Let's take some sample passages:

Fox (from "Dems: Health Bill under $900B"): House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's drive to put the federal government in the business of selling health insurance got a major boost Tuesday with a new report that showed the cost of a health reform bill that included the so-called "public option" could be less expensive than the $900 billion projected by the Obama administration. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO), reporting back on the cost of two-of-three House scenarios, pegged the cost of a health reform package that included a robust government-run insurance program at $871 billion, less than the initial $1 trillion projected price tag.
(Loaded language: "drive" "in the business of selling health insurance" "less expensive" "so-called" "robust") (Notice what they focus on--this projected price will be "less expensive" but still expensive, still including large government programs which the anticipated audience will react to. The language is clearly quite negative. These are not the plain facts--this is an interpretation of those facts.)

CNN (from "Dems Trim Health Bill to $871B"): A preliminary estimate from the Congressional Budget Office projects that the House Democrats' health care plan that includes a public option would cost $871 billion over 10 years, according to two Democratic sources. CBO also found that the Democrats' bill reduces the deficit in the first 10 years. This new CBO estimate, which aides caution is not final, is significantly less than the $1.1 trillion price tag of the original House bill that passed out of three committees this summer. More importantly, it comes under the $900 billion cap set by President Obama in his joint address to Congress last month.
(Loaded language: "that includes a public option" [as opposed to "included the so-called public option"] "reduces the deficit" "significantly less" "more importantly" "under") (Notice what they focus on: they frame this estimate in very positive light, portraying it as a vast reduction [as opposed to "less expensive"], mentioning things the previous article didn't mention [such as deficit reduction]. The language is very positive. This, too, is an interpretation of the facts.)

Yahoo News (from "House Dems Trim Health Bill..."): House Democrats are aiming to scale back the cost of their health care bill to well below President Barack Obama's preferred price tag by giving the government a strong hand in selling insurance in competition with the private market. Obama has sought to spend no more than $900 billion over a 10-year period. The initial cost of the House bill was more than $1 trillion. On Tuesday, House Democratic leaders received a new cost estimate of $871 billion from congressional budget umpires who measured a robust version of a so-called public option for health insurance, according to a Democratic aide. The figures were preliminary because no final decision on the design of the public plan had been made, said the aide, who requested anonymity in discussing the bill because the deliberations were private.
(Loaded language: "scale back" "well below" "selling insurance in competition with the private market" "sought" "robust") (Side note: you can tell that both CNN and Yahoo are pulling heavily from the same AP reporter, in that several of their phrases are exactly the same) (Notice their focus: on the government insurance being in competition with private markets rather than "being in the business of selling health insurance." They make it sound, again, like this bill reduction is a vast difference rather than being a slight alteration--which is, again, an interpretation.)

MSNBC (from "House Dems Trim Health Bill...): House Democrats are aiming to scale back the cost of their health care bill to well below President Barack Obama's preferred price tag by giving the government a strong hand in selling insurance in competition with the private market. Obama has sought to spend no more than $900 billion over a 10-year period. The initial cost of the House bill was more than $1 trillion. On Tuesday, House Democratic leaders received a new cost estimate of $871 billion from congressional budget umpires who measured a robust version of a so-called public option for health insurance, according to a Democratic aide.The figures were preliminary because no final decision on the design of the public plan had been made, said the aide, who requested anonymity in discussing the bill because the deliberations were private.
(Oh look. IT'S EXACTLY THE SAME BLOODY AP STORY! Word for word! By the Nine Hells, you'd think these news agencies would rely on the AP a little less here.) (Same comments as above.)

I'm not defending Fox here. I just want to inject a little perspective into the whole mess.

No matter what news agency you read or listen to, you're getting bias. You may only recognize this bias when it conflicts with your own bias regarding the reported events, but you're still getting it even when you don't notice. You get an interpretation of the events described, not merely a recounting of the facts. Indeed, the subjective understanding of reality would question even if a mere fact-recounting is even possible--your bias bleeds through in your choice of words. If it's a human writing an article, there'll be bias in the article. (And that includes this blog post.)

Of course there are understandings of reality that believe an objective viewpoint is possible. The Ontological understanding of reality is one (what some call the "formalist," "metaphysical" or "neo-Aristotelian" stance). They believe that language is seperate from reality, that reality is fixed. Or the Objectivist understanding of reality (also called "experiential," often associated with Descartes) which believes in such a thing as "unbiased observation" and situates knowledge in the sensory experience. Both of these paradigms, however, are out of vogue--old news--so 1800s. And really we can't expect the majority of people (except walking talking anachronisms like myself) to hold such views, right?
[/sarcasm]

My point being, if you're going to denounce a news source as being biased, and you say this as though news sources should NOT be biased, I hope you realize that by extention you're questioning the whole of the current zeitgeist. (Which is fine by me--I fight daily against the zeitgeist. Just be aware of the implications of what you're saying.)

What To Do During A Flood

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 12:28:55 GMT

This weekend, my wife and I found ourselves in a flood situation. Not one, but two nor'easters came whipping down, just at the new moon when the tides are high anyway. The water was overflowing the canals and coming first into the street, then into our driveway, then into our mudroom, and looked like it was going to flood our apartment.

Clearly, there was only one thing to do.

That is, of course, to get a remote-controlled pirate ship and sail it down the street.