Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, dogs, cats, roaches and other assorted creatures, we salute you.
There hasn't been very much going on at the martian hop recently. Sorry. Working to pay the bills. Living to work, and not quite working to live. Free time is rare and seems to be split between family, episodes of Futurama, Mario-cart and drawing. Live free or die.
Zmz
Here's Michael Stipe and R.E.M.:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=icGOLDJv08c
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Barsoooooooooooooooom!
Hello world. The movie adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs' John Carter character has come to the big screen at last. Schlocky pulp! We just watched the trailer for the film. Unfortunately there appear to be a lot of big boring battle scenes. Blame the influence of Peter Jackson's Lord of the [Potatoes]. But the Barsoomian creatures look fantastic! Rather, they look like a fantasy made palpable. Megan Fox, she ought to be in it. The bodacious princesses need to be feisty and unpredictable and, well, slutty. This is a must see, if only to pigeon-hole for not being the-good-kind-of-bad enough. Can't wait!
Links? In a web? That not make sense.
http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/john_carter/
Oh, to cap it all off, the lead role is played by a man named Kitsch.
Zmz
Links? In a web? That not make sense.
http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/john_carter/
Oh, to cap it all off, the lead role is played by a man named Kitsch.
Zmz
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
I'll ride that last train to heaven on rails of solid gold.
The term "spacey" is a funny one. It calls to mind the hypnotic, glazed stare of eyes that are attached to a brain in stasis. But having the ability to quiet the brain can be a very good thing. It's nice to shut off everything but life-support now and then and just drift through space. It takes some practice to get used to calming the brain. That organ is always firing off messages, which is habit forming. Taking the time to observe those messages and decide if they are useful or necessary can help with quieting: achieving spacey-ness.
What direction are we headed with this? Floating through space is sort of a directionless thing. It feels that way, anyhow. The distances are so vast. But does "spacey" require you to be unmoored? A celestial hobo? Even comets have paths determined by grave forces. No one thing is entirely unaffected by any other thing in the matrices of the uni- or multi-verse. Whatever THIS is. Matter is a matter of relationships, seen and unseen.
Celestial hoboes. I hope that the first non-Earthling visitors are these guys and gals. It would beat the pantaloons off any invading forces of imperialist swash-bucklers. The celestial hoboes are in the holy texts of many Earth religions. They are always shunned, misunderstood. The beings who visit Lot in the Old Testicle have a terrifying mystery about them. Certainly they stood seven feet tall hunched over, had beautiful, smooth slightly metallic-green skin and spacey ultra-violet eyes. And they must have sung in strange and beautiful harmonies of the wonder of a mind and spirit open to emptiness. Read "God's messengers" as "messengers from the heavens". They bring you peace, and love. Let them rest a bit in your hay-loft. Don't tell the authorities: the authorities do not enjoy chaos as a philosophy, only as a means to further their power. Celestial hoboes are only concerned with... the truth.
What direction are we headed with this? Floating through space is sort of a directionless thing. It feels that way, anyhow. The distances are so vast. But does "spacey" require you to be unmoored? A celestial hobo? Even comets have paths determined by grave forces. No one thing is entirely unaffected by any other thing in the matrices of the uni- or multi-verse. Whatever THIS is. Matter is a matter of relationships, seen and unseen.
Celestial hoboes. I hope that the first non-Earthling visitors are these guys and gals. It would beat the pantaloons off any invading forces of imperialist swash-bucklers. The celestial hoboes are in the holy texts of many Earth religions. They are always shunned, misunderstood. The beings who visit Lot in the Old Testicle have a terrifying mystery about them. Certainly they stood seven feet tall hunched over, had beautiful, smooth slightly metallic-green skin and spacey ultra-violet eyes. And they must have sung in strange and beautiful harmonies of the wonder of a mind and spirit open to emptiness. Read "God's messengers" as "messengers from the heavens". They bring you peace, and love. Let them rest a bit in your hay-loft. Don't tell the authorities: the authorities do not enjoy chaos as a philosophy, only as a means to further their power. Celestial hoboes are only concerned with... the truth.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
"joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea..."
Deadlimits, no, time-lines, no, wait, time limits. Yes. Life is one great big arbitrary time limit composed of a near infinite number of smaller arbitrary time limits for a huge variety of things we might do or have done.
There is a very limited period of time in which to write this post, but the end could come at any moment. So much depends on a great many factors that are entirely beyond control. We wait.
Wait? No, we write. We're up for the challenge. Why not? It's good practice for living. There may be no tomorrow; or there may be a tomorrow but "there will never be another tonight". Thank you to Canadian "Rock icon" Bryan Adams for the quote. Although the perpetually be-pimpled and pubescent songster is not the first place one would ordinarily turn for wisdom, sometimes how you look at a thing makes worlds of difference. Today we focused on the idea that today is the only one of its kind, never to be repeated, completely original. There may be days that are similar, but... well, you know. Time flows in the one direction for us, as far as we know. So, good or bad, there is hope in this thought. If today is absolutely miserable, it is only one day. If it is fantabulous, it becomes even more incredible when the realization of its unique wonderfantabulousness gets the consideration it deserves. "...Joy to you and me". Goodbye.
There is a very limited period of time in which to write this post, but the end could come at any moment. So much depends on a great many factors that are entirely beyond control. We wait.
Wait? No, we write. We're up for the challenge. Why not? It's good practice for living. There may be no tomorrow; or there may be a tomorrow but "there will never be another tonight". Thank you to Canadian "Rock icon" Bryan Adams for the quote. Although the perpetually be-pimpled and pubescent songster is not the first place one would ordinarily turn for wisdom, sometimes how you look at a thing makes worlds of difference. Today we focused on the idea that today is the only one of its kind, never to be repeated, completely original. There may be days that are similar, but... well, you know. Time flows in the one direction for us, as far as we know. So, good or bad, there is hope in this thought. If today is absolutely miserable, it is only one day. If it is fantabulous, it becomes even more incredible when the realization of its unique wonderfantabulousness gets the consideration it deserves. "...Joy to you and me". Goodbye.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
music of the spheres
Just a quick note before entering the chamber for rejuvenation. The tube was on and showing a programme about planets and the earthling occupation of searching for hospitable climes on other worlds. The soundtrack was stirring, strange, orchestral, ambient, and a whole lot of other great things. Where do we find music like this? The answer came from the tube as well. A documentary about Scott Walker and his music. Wild stuff. And the thing was produced by a guy named David Bowie. Neat-o.
Zmz
Zmz
Monday, February 13, 2012
100
Happy belated cent-notary, the martian hop!
I am making you a mixed album of songs about outer space, rockets and celestial bodies in celebration of a long and storied existence. Most, if not all of these songs will be written and performed by others. But they'll mean something special, being compiled by the martian hop staff. Doubtless, there will be something from the Flaming Lips' soundtrack "Christmas on Mars". David Bowie will probably sing about the spiders, but there's a chance the Space Oddity will make the cut too. That wacky old Sun Ra may appear as well. Any suggestions from "Shane" (read: "humanity at large") are more than welcome.
In other news, our writer has withdrawn its two-weeks notice. There will be sovereigns in the coffers for the little Dickens yet. The family will eat.
Time to go spacey.
Zmz
I am making you a mixed album of songs about outer space, rockets and celestial bodies in celebration of a long and storied existence. Most, if not all of these songs will be written and performed by others. But they'll mean something special, being compiled by the martian hop staff. Doubtless, there will be something from the Flaming Lips' soundtrack "Christmas on Mars". David Bowie will probably sing about the spiders, but there's a chance the Space Oddity will make the cut too. That wacky old Sun Ra may appear as well. Any suggestions from "Shane" (read: "humanity at large") are more than welcome.
In other news, our writer has withdrawn its two-weeks notice. There will be sovereigns in the coffers for the little Dickens yet. The family will eat.
Time to go spacey.
Zmz
Saturday, February 11, 2012
on a personal note
The martian hop has never been too concerned with the prospect of attracting a large audience. It would be content with a few lurkers producing a discussion here or there, or perhaps sharing an Earth recipe now and then. As it stands though, the numbers suggest we have a readership of two: our writer/editor and a being we will call "Shane" to respect his/her anonymity.
What this means, Shane, is that nobody cares but you. Were you a character in the Pentateuch, your lot would be you're Lot. Don't look back in anger. Onward, to the promised land: the future! But it would be nice if a fornicator, tax-evader, or uncle-fucker joined you in the task of muddling through. There is so much of humanity and its cultures to understand. Variety is the spice and Earth has pillars of the stuff.
Our writer recently gave its two weeks notice. It has no other prospects. Its family cannot afford it to be unemployed for very long, with a new baby on the way. Hopefully it will reconsider quitting. But the atmosphere at work is a bit toxic and our writer has a fairly weak constitution. What else will it do? The martian hop can barely scrape together enough cash for a gum-ball. Human culture is expensive.
Well Shane, that's about it from here for now. How are your Earth explorations going? When you're next in the vicinity, stop in at the 'hop. There's a great radio station we've been listening to avidly. CJNU, 107.9 FM nostalgia radio, "where everything old is new again". You can find them on the web. Thank you and good night.
What this means, Shane, is that nobody cares but you. Were you a character in the Pentateuch, your lot would be you're Lot. Don't look back in anger. Onward, to the promised land: the future! But it would be nice if a fornicator, tax-evader, or uncle-fucker joined you in the task of muddling through. There is so much of humanity and its cultures to understand. Variety is the spice and Earth has pillars of the stuff.
Our writer recently gave its two weeks notice. It has no other prospects. Its family cannot afford it to be unemployed for very long, with a new baby on the way. Hopefully it will reconsider quitting. But the atmosphere at work is a bit toxic and our writer has a fairly weak constitution. What else will it do? The martian hop can barely scrape together enough cash for a gum-ball. Human culture is expensive.
Well Shane, that's about it from here for now. How are your Earth explorations going? When you're next in the vicinity, stop in at the 'hop. There's a great radio station we've been listening to avidly. CJNU, 107.9 FM nostalgia radio, "where everything old is new again". You can find them on the web. Thank you and good night.
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