Garlic

May. 20th, 2020 03:34 pm
pjthompson: quotes (quotei)
Random quote of the day:

“Paranoia’s the garlic in life’s kitchen, right, you can never have too much.”

—Thomas Pynchon, Bleeding Edge



Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Key and Peele, Celine Dion, or Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

 

Watching

Nov. 30th, 2017 09:47 am
pjthompson: (Default)
Random quote of the day:

“Death watches. So if you have some happiness, conceal it. And when your heart is full, keep your mouth shut also.”

—Saul Bellow, Herzog



Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Lucy and Ethel, Justin Bieber, or the Kardashian Klan. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.
pjthompson: (Default)
So I was playing around on google (no, really, I wasn't searching for my own name) and quite by fluke and accident came across a short story published on a writers' site called Helium. "Taking the Bus" by Pj Thompson.

Nope, so not me. No periods after the initials. I thought I had that copyrighted. Alas, you can't copyright a name. No bio listed for this author with the story, either.

If he/she is PJ Thompson h/she is just as entitled to h/er/is name as me, but dang. Bad enough some damned businessman gobbled up pjthompson.com and somebody's sitting on pjthompson.net—now some writer is writing under PJ Thompson?

Having found that, I did a big more in-depth searching and found there's a P.J. Thompson who has done a great many academic articles in the biomed field. Not me, either. And one P. J. Thompson wrote The Poetry of Brecht. Not me, though I might have liked to have written that one. I digs me some Brecht. And some British guy writing travel blogs, somebody writing reviews at Amazon German, a poster on diet blogs, and someone commenting on [livejournal.com profile] hominysnark's blog...oh wait, that was me.

But the list of wannabe PJ Thompsons is endless. Mainly because the list of PJ Thompsons is endless. It's apparently a very common initial set, and I remember reading somewhere that Thompson is the 16th most common name in the United States.

As my uncle, Hunter S. Thompson, once said...Okay, so as far as I know, I'm not related to Hunter S. Thompson. Given his proclivity for booze and bizarreness, he certainly should belong in my family tree, but...no.

Anyway, back to Uncle Hunter: "Paranoia is just another word for ignorance."

There isn't enough ignorance on the interdweeb, not nearly enough.
pjthompson: (Default)
Random quote of the day:

"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face."

—Jim Butcher, Storm Front


Illustrated version. )
pjthompson: (Default)
You know the kind, where laying your head on the railroad track actually seems attractive. Off with her head—that's where all the trouble starts, so off with it! Too much thinking is a deadly thing. And that's what I was doing yesterday. Nearly killed me. I'm better now.

The thing is, when it's a too much thinking kind of day, the least thing can send the train careening down the wrong track. And sweet reason gets pulverized by the fast moving freight of worry and paranoia; no consolation is strong enough to stand against that rushing onslaught. "Run fast! Jump off the train!" Or lie down and let it roll over you.

But I've learned a thing or two in this process of living, and a day's derailment rarely turns into a downward spiral anymore. The train was back on track this morning and I didn't feel like laying my head on the track ahead of it.

An editor said she liked the world I'd created and wanted to see more; someone else who rejected the same novel spoke disparagingly of its "type." I didn't take that personally. I really didn't think she meant me personally, just the type of fiction I was writing. But it made me wonder why I'm writing what I'm writing. Those are only two opinions, no matter what position these people occupy in the publishing world. But I tortured myself with thinking, "Is it a trend? And which way is the trend trending? Am I obsolete before I've even finished the journey?" The wheels go round and round; the high, lonesome whistle sounds; clickity clack clickity clack.

I've been doing a storm of writing lately. Usually that's enough to ward off the whangdoodles of uncertainty. After so not wanting to write a few weeks back at the beginning of my chapter 14, it came barreling through me and practically wrote itself—a blessed feeling, rich and rare. Chapter 15 has been much the same. I've now passed the 56,000 word mark (SMF), really in the zone, feeling pretty durned good about things. But it's another one of those "types" of novels and I'm well aware of the prejudice against them out there in certain quarters. Why am I writing it? Because it needs to be written. And the momentum is such that we should be arriving in Kankakee, ladies and gentleman, by morning. If that makes some editors happy—good on me. If it makes others unhappy—such is the price of your ticket, ladies and gentleman. Don't blame the conductor.

And to put things in a completely different perspective, I was almost run down in the parking lot of Costco the other day. In fact, I was run down in the parking lot of Costco. The inattentive woman in the Mercedes who was wheeling around a car waiting for a parking space hit my purse rather than my hip and sent the purse careening rather than my body—but it was a matter of inches. She refused to roll down her window, but that's okay. I enunciated very carefully. I'm sure she read my lips quite well before stepping on the gas and high-tailing it out of there.

I'm really glad I'm not really the Anna Karenina type. I'm really glad my last moments on the planet were not spent in the parking lot of Costco. Although who knows what the future holds? A friend of mine always used to say, "Irony is the leading cause of death in this country." I never quite understood what he meant, but I understood it well in that Costco parking lot the other night. I'd envisioned a somewhat more picturesque ending: perhaps reclining on a divan, coughing demurely between bouts of belting out a Puccini aria.

But life rarely gives you what you want in exactly the form you want it. Even your death.

Sometimes the scenery out the window is nice, though.
pjthompson: (Default)
(No, not ferrets. They're cool.)


Oh me. Here's the quote from the quote file which I forgot to add to this the first time around:

"Gain not base gains; base gains are the same as losses."

—Hesiod



So late Sunday/early Monday my car got broken into for the second time in two weeks—down in the bowels of our "security" garage. Two weeks ago they broke the lock on the driver's side and got in—but my car is old and crummy and I don't keep anything of value in it. All they got was the garage door opener. Of course, since I only have public liability and property damage on my car, the insurance company will not be reimbursing me for the cost of having the door lock repaired.

Yuri, our post-Soviet manager, reset the garage door code and fixed the "security building" lobby door which wouldn't lock and was, presumably, how the thief got in. How they got into the garage the second time is a matter of some debate, but no guessing as to how they got in my car: through the same driver's side lock. Then they popped the hood release inside and stole my old battery out of my car. I won't be reimbursed for the new battery I bought, either.

1. Perhaps the fellow at the Union 76 who replaced my battery is right and "they" have stolen the old battery because they know I'll have to replace it with a new one and they'll return some day soon and steal the new battery as well.

2. My car and one other that was broken into two weeks ago don't have car alarms. Easy marks. And my car is the first one in the garage leading from the lobby. So maybe it was just a target of opportunity.

3. It's personal—someone inside the building with easy access to the garage directing spite towards me.

You know, I'm trying hard not to be paranoid, but there are some indications that it might be personal. And Yuri likes this idea. He was speculating as much himself yesterday. "Inside job, Pamela." Of course, if it's an inside job and personal spite that lets him and the owner theoretically off the hook as far as liability for lousy security is concerned. That may account for some of his liking, but it also plays in well with Yuri's inherent sense of melodrama.

The only neighbors in the entire 30-apartment complex that I have had problems with live directly upstairs from me and they've recently received an eviction. They have until the end of the month to clear out. She works and holds down a steady job, maintains a discernible pattern—but there is not discernible pattern to Boyfriend's comings and goings. And Yuri told me he caught Boyfriend vandalizing apartment property once already and the Girlfriend broke the lease because, well, Boyfriend wasn't on the lease. He moved in afterwards without clearing it with the manager/owner first. That and the vandalism are a large part of why they're being evicted—but not the whole story. They've been a very noisy pair, often on weeknights late at night. Many have complained and for the last 4 months or so they've been fairly quiet. But I am not one of the people who complained.

However, I was stupid enough to go upstairs a couple of times to have talks with them about noise, thinking we could work this out as adults. But hey, they aren't adults. And Boyfriend often retaliated after these talks with even more noise. Until Yuri put the squeeze on them—which I'm sure Boyfriend felt was my doing. Boyfriend is a spud—an immature little spud who can't take responsibility for his own actions so he's got to strike out at someone. I may be paranoid, but I can't help feeling like something of a target.

On the upside, they'll be gone by the 1st. On the downside, that gives him 2-1/2 more weeks to hit me again if he's so inclined. On the other downside, it may not be him and this may not be personal.

Sigh. This feels like such a morass. I should move out of this apartment complex because it's been sliding slowly downhill, but. . . I'm $200 under market and not likely to get a comparable apartment on the Westside. For the first time in years I've actually been able to do something other than scrape by. This year I actually got to do some fun stuff. Right now the hassle/benefit scale is swinging up and down quite a bit. It's hard to know what to do. But if the problem isn't solved when Girlfriend and Boyfriend move out, the slow attrition rate on my car may tip the scale into negative balance. Only time will tell and I'm relatively helpless here. All I can do is pray—and look into getting a car alarm.

I also wanted to say something about how we tend to romanticize thieves in fiction.

When I pulled today's quote out of the quote file I thought it appropriate to what I'd gone through and had to laugh. Sometimes the synchronicity of my random quote file is just too funny. I illustrate the quotes and put them up on the bulletin board at work every day and folks like it enough that when I'm not here they complain to my office mate that there aren't any new quotes. I enjoy finding images, sometimes ironic juxtapositions, sometimes appropriate to theme. So today I was using google to find images relating to thieves.

I found all kinds of images, all right, many from the fantasy genre, and almost all of them portraying thieves as romantic anti-heroes; slightly bad boys with hidden hearts of gold; or else lovable rapscallions—always up to mischief, but dashing and handsome.

Furthermore, their victims are always portrayed as fat, complacent partridges just waiting to be plucked; or semi-greedy rich folk who deserve what they get. Unless, of course, our thieves are thieves of the heart, and then their marks are beautiful young women fainting longingly into their larcenous arms.

To repeat: thieves are people who get on in this world by victimizing others. Mostly they are venal little creeps—stupid, uneducated people who have only ever found one way of making themselves feel superior than others. By ripping them off, putting one over on the straight folks. I know because my family encompasses one or two of these venal little creeps and trust me, there isn't a damned thing romantic about them. They're bone-lazy and mean spirited and slimy.

There are other levels of thieves who aren't stupid, but not in the "boost a car battery league." They may have started out with petty larceny when they were thirteen or fourteen, but soon graduated to higher levels with a grander scale of victimization. Some of them are con artists. Some of them even have MBAs. But the basic personality type is the same no matter what level of thievery, what level of education, we're talking about. They are all venal little creeps who make themselves feel superior by victimizing others.

And most of those victims are not partridges, not greedy rich folk (who often have much better security systems in place). Mostly, they're just averaging working stiffs living from one pay check to the next, getting their car batteries ripped off, or having their pension plans suddenly disappear because the company big boys decided to use it to build themselves mansions on six continents. Although I will make a slight concession on the fainting young women bit. Some women are stupid enough to buy into the romantic thief archetype and believe that their victimizing, unemployed, bastard Boyfriends are naughty rapscallions, dangerous in an exciting way, but underneath it all have hearts of gold. Even after he causes them to get evicted from their apartment.

If I ever, ever write a romantic thief character in any of my fiction I am hereby authorizing all my writer and non-writer friends to rear up on their haunches and slug me good and hard.

There is nothing romantic about thieves.
pjthompson: (Default)
Mood: ranty
Music: "Beyond the Invisible" by Enigma

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," said Franklin D. Roosevelt.

One other thing we should probably fear is complacency. Our own. The nation's. Accepting the will of Our Glorious Leaders that they know better for us.

I was innocently logging on to yahoo this morning when I see the news headline, "U.S. Mulling How to Delay Nov. Vote in Case of Attack." I went on to read the article, detailing how Tom Ridge, Homeland Security Head, is trying to get Congress to pass a bill that will allow the federal government to suspend federal elections any time they feel there is a threat:

[broken link]

I suddenly flashed on all those tin horn dictators in various parts of the world who always make it a habit of declaring martial law and suspending national elections just before declaring themselves President For Life.

After I read this article I read an account from the Houston Chronicle of a writer who'd scribbled a piece of dialogue in the margin of a crossword puzzle he was working on a plane, "I know this must be some kind of bomb":

http://www.chron.com/cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/editorial/outlook/2660471

A panicky passenger reported him to the stewardess and when they landed he was hauled into the local Homeland Security Office and questioned hostilely by several federal and local police. Even when he showed them the novel in question on his laptop he was made to tell them the entire plot of the novel and told he was going to be placed on the Homeland Security watch list.

Excuse me???? Placed on the watch list, guaranteed hasslement at every airport he goes to from now on, because he scribbled a piece of dialogue in the margin of a crossword puzzle, even after he proved it was part of a novel???

Something deeply scary is happening here. And it isn't Al Qaida. The bigger threat to our liberty and way of life are the folks currently in the White House. Ultra-conservatives are always going on and on about how much they love this country and what it stands for. Well, what exactly is it that they love if not the Bill of Rights and the Constitution? Those documents are the corner stones of all those liberties we complacently take for granted, but Mr. Bush and his cronies routinely trample all the hell over those.

Al Qaida wants to destroy America, and this is the surest route to that end: make us so afraid that we destroy ourselves and all the things we stand for. Listen to the voices of people around the world. They will tell you that they didn't always approve of what America did, but they respected our rule of law. They looked to us as an example of what could exist in this world—a country in which no one man was above the law. They were fully cognizant of the injustices that existed here, that the rule of law sometimes ground slowly and inefficiently, and that sometimes horrible miscarriages occurred. But even our enemies had to acknowledge that we got it right a lot of the time, and that even if injustices occurred we had mechanisms in place that allowed us, sometimes, to right those wrongs.

That's what Al Qaida hates. That's what Osama and his crew want to destroy. Because as long as any kind of hope exists that men can do better in this world, it makes it much more difficult for them to become tin horn dictators in their own right. As long as hearts and minds have some kind of counter-example, tin horn dictators have a much harder time of selling their line, "My way is the only way."

But this administration has played right into their hands. Their abuses have crushed hope and erased those counter-examples in the minds of people all around the world. They have played on the fears of the American people and made us small and weak, cowering under the covers in the dark. They have tried to make us believe that their way is the only way.

They want the ability to suspend elections. If that doesn't put the fear in people, I don't know what will. Perhaps the Bush Administration truly believes what they're saying, that if Al Qaida launches an attack during the election it will seriously disrupt our country's democratic process. Or perhaps the Bush Administration believes that a terrorist attack just before or on election day could have the result that it did in Spain, of throwing them out of office in a landslide.

Personally, I think it's just as likely to have the opposite effect, that people will vote with their fear. A terrorist act just before the election could easily swing people to vote for Bush in a landslide. We need to keep our Strong and Glorious Leader at the helm in times of crisis.

We are prone to manipulation whatever way you decide to slice the cake.

But I've come to believe that this administration is as seriously paranoid about Us, their legal opposition, as we are about Them. I think they'll do just about anything to stay in office as long as they can keep at least the illusion of legality. They can't persuade the Supreme Court to put them into office again, that would be too obvious, so what about...

Because George Bush, after all, believes that he received a mandate. Not from the electorate, but from God. He believes he is pope-like in his channel to God, doing God's will, guided by God's hand, damned near infallible. If something whispers in his ear that suspending the elections would be in the best interests of the country because the country is confused and doesn't have as strong a pipeline to God as he does, what's to stop him? If Tom Ridge gets his way, that is, and gets the Republican-controlled Congress to pass that handy little bill which allows the feds to do it.

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