Flash of Genius switches between 3 different genres, almost abruptly: documentary, psychological drama, and legal thriller. The ending is depressing in how it doesn’t deviate from what one would ordinarily expect, but it does reinforce the everyman quality of its hero/the prototypical inventor. The film is not without irony, that the subject’s popular recognition will come not only posthumously, but without his control.

“These foolish games…”

Logic, puzzles, overanalysis, indecision.

“…You were always crazy like that…”

Ruing, my new reply
Will be that I
Plead: I need you to explain why
We cannot again try.

“It's all been done before…”

This election needed to be between past and future, not between political parties. Unfortunately, both futures won their primaries; post-convention, the conflict is dominated by the past. Whoever wins will owe their victory to what they should have been fighting against.

There needs to be debate, but instead rich DC middleaged/oldfolk sit around a table after the feast, in candlelit darkness with the power out, arguing about what went wrong. There is the tragedy of our era. It’s not that things are changing; it’s that things have, and none of who need to realize do.

I’ve already recovered my key. All I can do is watch nostalgically as a 1-term inexperienced governor and a loquacious senator come to town.

[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“…I met a girl who sang the blues / And I asked her for some happy news / But she just smiled and turned away…”

I chose between true and love, and not only was it not my choice, not only didn’t I make it, but I chose wrong. I erred more than can be explained, and probably more than I can ever hope to be forgiven for. The realization of the flaws behind the tragedy doesn’t help the character who still feels the pain of having taken something alive and felt the life squeezed away.

“…I went down to the sacred store / Where I’d heard the music years before / But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

I have never been ambitious, content to merely do as I do and let things proceed as they proceed. Stoicism may be a trap, but it is a pleasant one; for there I had everything I ever wanted: lost, found, and regained- everything save time. And does one say to the victorious de Leon, but now what?

“…But not a word was spoken…”

Goodbye, truth: you are a glorious incarnation, but I am not yours, and weren’t ever. I tell people I’m a pathological liar. They still don’t believe me.

“…The three men I admire most…”

I am 3 people: who I was, who I became, and who I will be.

“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”

[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“…Helter-skelter in a summer swelter / The birds flew off…”

Out of the nest, into the air, and how sweet the whirlwind is in which my wings will spread.

“…We all got up to dance / Oh, but we never got the chance... ”

It will never be perfect, but I will show up and see what happens. Why not try; at the very least, I will have fun.

“…There we were all in one place / A generation lost…”

And I will get to share it. I will need you to know how sorry I am for what happened. How much I owe you, how much I promised myself, more than will genuinely be said. The guilt over how I chose my own insanity instead of supporting you is not something I think I will forgive myself for. My consolation will be in how you are a stronger person than I am, was, or will be.

“…With no time left to start again…”

With already everything I wanted, what will I go to? No matter what I find, what I will have left will have changed by the time I return. Yet I will go anyhow. With so much to do, and unable to go back, I will only close my eyes and run, and hopefully push through before out of air.

“…My hands were clenched in fists of rage…”

Friendship is a valuable commodity, to give trust that will allow one to trust, to grasp another’s hand in one’s own, and thereby will be led where one could not go alone. The right word will make truth beauty; the wrong word will reveal ugliness.

Friendship is a terrible power, especially for those who will not respect it.

“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”

[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“…Now for 10 years we’ve been on our own…”

One Monday in September everything changes.

“…A voice that came from you and me…”

My greatest fear is that the same thing that happened to me would happen to you, that as I crashed you would fall.

The fear is unfounded. You are strong, stronger than I am.

“…The courtroom was adjourned…”

I can’t go back. Independence is always important, but now it is everything I could have. I shun what I cannot do, until I only need what I can.

“…No verdict was returned…”

I’m still not completely sure what caused the beginning, nor the end. I’m honestly not sure what help you were. But for trying most genuinely, I thank you.

“…And we sang dirges in the dark…”

No one else can understand, no one else can hear. Mourning for a lost life leads to lyrics of madness. There is finally found independence- but the price is isolation.

“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie... ”

[profile temporarily utilized for space]
“A long, long time ago / I can still remember / How that music used to make me smile…”

Once I lived a life and heard a song, and kept coming back to where I had been captivated by it. I learned its lyrics and taught them, finding meaning and poetry, and hidden meaning, and discovery, and a clever crescendo, epic and grand and unique. I found harmony, and it was pleasing.

“…I knew if I had my chance / That I could make those people dance…”

Ideas brewed in my head. I had a story to tell, but I didn’t yet understand it. In the meantime, characters and stories evolved without my control. Laslo Bleem was born.

“…I couldn’t take one more step…”

I had what I wanted, I was who I wanted, I did what I wanted. I had found my limit, within which things were perfect, and I was rising, like the sea seen arising endlessly over an endless horizon.

“…I can’t remember if I cried…”

I regretted the elm tree I didn’t climb, the roads not wandered, the heartfelt missive whose reply came after the moment passed. When did numbness cease, and pain awaken?

“…Well, I know that you’re in love…”

I once knew a girl who had flowing blonde hair and a light lilting laugh, who read Calvin & Hobbes, spoke Latin, sang Lobachevsky, appreciated poetry; who constructed abstract sculptures from discarded disks, who perched on rooftops, who ran in the autumn rain; who named herself after a Greek letter and a mathematical constant. She was Phi, she was perfect.

I never had a chance with her. I never will.

“…Bye-bye, Miss American Pie...”

“I was convinced an Obama/McCain campaign would be measurably different on almost all standards. And to watch it become Bush/Kerry, Bush/Gore, has been one of the most dissatisfying experiences.”
“That means it's not an Obama/McCain campaign. It's a Guys Who Work for Bush/Guys Who Work for Kerry campaign.”

The hardest part of any party is the planning.

“Partisan politics saps all the productivity out of debate.”
Partisan politics saps all the productivity out of production.

I’m not sure whether I’m looking for a campaign or a 1-shot.

Tigerlings!

“Some people will not tolerate such emotional honesty in communication. They would rather defend their dishonesty on the grounds that it might hurt others. Therefore, having rationalized their phoniness into nobility, they settle for superficial relationships.”

The question is not whether you would prefer I assent to your idea or say what I honestly feel, but what I do.

“Is it emotionally dishonest to then, instead of speaking, say nothing at all?”
“The cruelest lies are often told in silence.”

“Call earlier. People are worse negotiators when they’re asleep.”

The question is not whether I assent to your idea or say what I honestly feel, but which you would prefer.

Basking.

“Strumming my pain…”

Some things are bitter, fomenting up what surprisingly should have been expected, with a resonating distaste being brewed.

“…I heard he had a style / And so I came to see him to listen…”

Some things are sweet, heralding a day and a year and a lifetime in which a resonating joy can be exquisitely basked in, with sparkling eyes, akin minds, and a cool breeze on the cusp of summer and autumn.

“…Telling my whole life with his words…”

I need you to know this, that I know how special you are, that I trust you more than anyone else, more than I deserve. It’s not just that you’ve grown up; it’s that you enabled me to.

“…You guys sound great, awesome…”

Forcing the switch to new may indicate that facebook has lost touch with its audience, but at least they speak the same language.

“If ye got somethin' to say, stand fast and speak!”

The strategy with indecision is to be not making the most informed decision possible.

I just voted to register.

Making plans makes me nauseated.

“Most people were either “aah I hate storms” or “yay I like storms” or “I lived in Michigan”.”

Case by case.

“I wasn’t with her.”
There are ablatives, and ablatives.

“There seems to be some subtext.”
There is always subtext. And it’s always lava.
“The floor is lava. The floor is lava.”
<jumps off carpet>

As obvious as the reason why one double coffeeshops.

<climbs up banisters>
<leaps over railings>
I needed that exhilaration.

You remember the drug dealer from last summer? I figured out what his number is. Also, are there a pair of glasses there?

Cat as cat can: 1 forward, 2 back.

“My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why / I got out…”

Appreciation is the presence of an absence of a presence. It acknowledges that something is done which might not be done, something which another might not do, something that need not be acknowledged but is. For everyone has a choice for how they spend their time. The thankless task gets done because the doer enjoys it, not because of any degree of gratitude. It should be enough to receive satisfaction from oneself, from how the time was used; but when instead dissatisfaction turns to despair, with time not being spent how one would want, there can be a restoration by merely not not doing something.

“…And I want to thank you…”

Online, this time, proceed:
Her saying she’d
Allay pushed ‘way ‘motions’ misdeed
I did, is what I need.

        
           

You can have the scratching post. Our cats were too dumb to use it.
It could be a very smart scratching post.

There will be another opportunity; wisdom is realizing it.

Either you do already know or they’re wrong.

Say what needs to be said.

“I already know this story and it’s still TMI.”

N degrees of knowing what you’re talking about.

Shoplifters are ugly people.

Last chance. You want to just go barhopping instead?
“Yes. Stripbarhopping. But I don’t have any singles.”
I’m prepared. <pulls out wad of $2 bills>

Twice the fun.

“Syncretism. It’s a good Hellenistic method.”
Actually, it’s a good Roman method. Because it’s a good Hellenistic method.

One dei’s as good as another.

It shouldn’t be this hard to get from Act 1 to 2.
Make it start.
Make it stop.

This is a bad week to be one of my appliances which beeps when it’s not working right.

There’s more than one way to have a 3-day Labor Day weekend.

In a previous Away Message, I explained my use of third person plural for indefinite singulars. Let third person singular also be used alternatively; as the gendered pronoun in place of a neuter indicates familiarity, so let a neuter used in place of a gendered indicates a diminutive.

In the instance of animals, the third singular has ambiguity: an animal has natural gender, but lacks the type of linguistic sentience which allows first or second singular forms without anthropomorphizing. Thus,, let the third singular neuter be used.

A neutered pet is just a double coincidence.

We’re going to get along quite well.

I’ll just animal shelter or see if anyone has any friends with cats. Actually, do you have any friends?
Um… with cats?

My rest has been unstressful, but it is time to push for recommence of my journey. But there departure is not immediate; until then, let there be time to dally with a Calypso.

We just bought cats the way we bought pants.

Get-together at my place 6pm, Improvised Shakespeare 8pm at Graham Chapel. Come for either or both.

We’re getting these, aren’t we?

Just want I always wanted, with vanilla bean cupcakes.

We’re getting these.

Restless.

Orange rolls, orange rolls, and rolling oranges.

Once when I was little, eating at CPK, I wanted an ice cream sundae for dessert. My parents consented, provided I shared it with my father. I agreed, only to discover that I was left only the dregs of hot fudge, with my father taking his portion first, claiming nearly all of the ice cream. The traumatic experience taught me early on how difficult sharing can be.

Sharing is still difficult.

The problem is that I’m in a mood where I want to talk less and do more.

Just a spectator.

He’s a tragic figure stuck in a comedy.

It was an on-again-off-again-on-again-off-again-on-again-off-again relationship.

An exit strategy isn’t needed if there’s never been entrance.

“More like in-again-out-again-in-again-out-again-in-again-out-again.”

“I bought a toothbrush…”

Toe the line.

“…At my bedside empty pocket, a foot without a sock…”

Fleeing, being confused
Inside your room,
I forgo echoing command to
Just tell me what to do.

“How many times have I done this…”

No poker, events full, a dearth of free stuff- but GenCon was nevertheless full of nothing but fun times. It’s not what you do, but who you do it with.

“…Ooh, solitude / Forever me and forever you…”

What were Jennifer Connelly’s parents thinking?

“Try it? A little nip. You won’t go to hell.”
Now try it with a straight face.

One day I’ll be able to call it the DUC with a straight face. Today, however, I can only go to Indiana.

One day I hope to find someone to who I can say, I’m lazy.

Insomnia vs. nausea

Things I will do to avoid doing laundry
2 weeks of NYTimes crosswords
Dust
Proselytize $2 bills
Index card dentistry
Not kill a fish
Enjoy some very nice August evenings on the Loop
Install Windows Vista

(Procrastination is trickier without Internet, but one way or the other it should be over soon.)

“I really wish I could talk to trees.”
You really wish trees could talk to you, I think.

Talking while I still can; expecting Internet to die any moment now.

Hanging myself with cable. Despite empty promises otherwise, it will not be installed until a week after current connection is terminated. Should have limited access, but cell to contact until then.

Vengeance is a resource.

See Spot. See Spot get bitten to death by a disarticulated snake head.

Everyone should have a completely useless skill which they are superlative at.

When I was little, being fascinated by calendars, I was able to recognize a month’s general pattern (starting on day X with Z days) as being identical to month M of year Y.

This is the type of skill whose acquiring is too dependent on the wonder of childhood; not knowing what is and isn’t important to be learned, the forming brain learns to instinctively be able to recognize certain combinations. Certainly the smaller set of existing months aids, but growing older, it is less learning and more memorization.

Now I’m not even sure what year it is.

Thanksgiving : Christmas :: Tax-free : Rush

Some days you don’t get free frozen custard. Some days you get a free cookie instead.

Some days you get a free cupcake. Some days you have to steal another cupcake to pay someone back because they stole you a free cookie.

Some days you fall in love. Some days unrequited love of one is rewarded by requited love of another.

Some days the hours never last long enough. Some days the hours never come soon enough.

Some days they won’t let you back. Some days the lobster dies.

“…You can’t always get what you want…”

Sometimes, on Wednesday evenings, I would go to the Women's Building... and we'd talk.

We’ll be right back after this lobster.

We understand each other in a way you never could! We both watch Lost, both are Jewish, both lived in Umrath, both did W-S Wednesday afternoons, both hosted sleepovers, both secretly dated a troupemate half a semester younger, both started off freshman year so pure and innocent that we didn't even drink and then got progressively more evil with every passing semester...

Cashing out.

I made the switch. I gave up my $1 bills and switched to $2s.

META

How's your evening? Or alternatively, your ears?
“Not wet. Thinking about this band; they sound a little too country for me, though.”
Err on the side of not-listening-to-country. Your non-wet ears will thank you.

Saw Dark Knight. With Heath Ledger’s tragic real-life death, the Joker receives more attention than it might otherwise, but with the character of Two-Face also: the film is about the tragedy of villainry more than heroism.

I tend to like things I like.

I love it when you’re shameless.

Almost as good when I defined avuncular to someone asking what it meant after I used it in a sentence just before it popped up in the quiz, was when freerice defined playa=beach.

I may be a sellout, but I’m not an evil sellout.

Field of Dreams?
“Good movie.”
Just checking. It gets a lot of hate.
“Because of all the fantasy and fluff, I think?”
Because of Kevin Costner, I think. Even so, broken clock, twice a day. <pause> Eh, that’s not very fair.
“Yeah, he was good in Dances With Wolves.”
Broken clock, *twice* a day.

While I appreciate a hidden order to the universe, I don’t think that biorhythms would be satisfactory for me. Periodic cycles are too logical; subtraction from birth too simple. The process by which biorhythms would work does appeals: looking for coincidence of 3 factors, and applying that to events. However, I have found too much symbolism to constrain an order to only 3 factors.

No vacancy.

“1) If you could change one life-changing event in the life of someone important to you, would you?
2) Which do you think is easier to do: be friends for many years, or be life partners for many years?
3) Have you ever walked away from someone you considered a friend?
4) If you had to choose between telling the truth and hurting a friend or lying and making them happy, which would you choose?
5) Which would you rather hear: a truth which will hurt, or a comforting lie?”

The relationship is what we make it.

We each need the other to be comfortable to be comfortable.
“On the count of 3, let's both be comfortable, okay?”

9:06 wake up before alarm
9:11 be invited to Cardinals game
12:25: accidentally take workphone on lunch
1:15 have a rude customer overhear you unprofessionally talking about them
1:16 take a break
1:31 mail a letter to ex-gf
2:00 receive mentoring from Dr. Cox’s cousin
3:02 receive free tickets to a comedy show
3:18 help an undeserving customer
3:58 help a clueless customer
4:49 help a customer despite technical difficulties
5:32 help appreciative customer
7:36 arrive in the 2nd inning
7:55 crave pizza
8:00 find toasted ravioli, Asian Stir Fry, and quesadillas- but no pizza.
8:05 crave toasted ravioli
8:10 find pizza, but no toasted ravioli
8:15 just get nachos instead
9:00 leave in the 6th inning
9:18 talk about customers on the walk back
9:19 be approached by appreciative customer
9:20 have date try to set you up with appreciative customer
9:45 start telling about day
11:37 finish telling about day
11:38 realize that it’s not over yet

“I think sometimes there are perfectly normal-seeming days where we wake up one person and go to bed another.”
I really wish go to bed could take a second object there. I guess it can, like a future form to to bed, meaning to seduce. It's too profound a statement to not have clever wordplay.

It should eventually get there.

“A quick swoop in to mention K[] just enough to agitate me (if I were as easily agitated as she last recalls me) and then Oh Whoops I Have To Go To Bed.”
<payoff on the syntax joke>

It has the hindquarters of a goat, the forequarters of a lion, dragon wings, 3 heads, and a degree in anthropology. It enjoys long walks on the beach, non-smokers, and is chaotic evil.

Free Ted Drewes makes a day that much better.

“I like the aesthetic of it even beyond its prank value”
I like the aesthetic of it because of its prank value.

Punchline

Did you send it to Z[], or did he send it to you?
“I saw it first.”
The correct answer was, we sent it to each other simultaneously. That's okay, we'll practice. You'll get it next time.

Find a theory to fit the evidence.

Item: a box of 3 condoms
1) Of a type sold at the bookstore.
2) The box was empty.
3) The box was sealed.

Location: on top of a stack of notebooks
4) On the opposite side of the store from where condoms are kept.
5) The notebooks were behind a shoulder-high display which blocked sight from the customer service desk.

Time: Saturday afternoon
6) After the last night of an ArtSci weekend.
7) During intersession.

Miscellaneous: 8) Condoms are distributed for free in the dorms.

“han”
…shot first?
…gover?
…d over the key to the safe, and nobody gets hurt?
…kering for some biscuits?
…ukkah coincides with Christmas this year?
…dcuff me, officer; I've been a very bad girl?

“I don't believe in your dreams giving you meaning and insight you don't already know.”
You're talking to one who likes hidden order as well as crypticness.
“Yeah, you and the other INTP I used to know. We had *so* many arguments about dream interpretation. But she is a bitch and can't even put on a swimsuit top the right way. So I win this argument.”

There’s more than 1 way to wear a bikini.

I probably can't put on a swimsuit top the right way either.
“You don't know how to put on a swimsuit top.”
Right. Therefore I'm going to lose this argument.

Brick by brick

Things aren’t changing. Foremost, I am not moving. For that I have obtained many new things, prominent among which is a computer, the requited Eco. Which, being without novelty, continues Away Messages just when I ready refreshed self-discovery. So, appropriately enough, it is time for familiarity.

Youtube is my napster.

Elegant Exception
The only time it might be appropriate to use the word elegant in describing a woman one is interested in is if she is a pianist.

I was thinking, you could tell them I got AIDS. And then they’ll ask how, and you can say from my gf. And then they’ll ask if they can see a picture of her, and you can be, well, actually…
I just said that you ran over a dog.
Yeah, that works too.

With my steps retracted to the point of despair, SludgeFest ‘08 had a happier ending- realizing my camera was missing, I am able to find it intact before further rain where I had unwittingly dropped it in the mud.

“Is this the place that I've been dreaming of…”

Umrath and destruction.

“…Oh simple thing, where have you gone…”

“Who remembers when it all began…”

Orange has become fully ingrained in fashion, foreshadowed by last year in Italy and prior avant garde individuality. With the world painted through no effort of my own, what need I to do; what *am* I to do? And yet, gratifyingly, with the world tending to itself, in a place where it was 2500 years ago, there is actually internal optimism.

“…Before the whole world was in our hands / Out here in no man's land…”

Astronomy
Bathing
Clue
Driving
Enemies
Fluorescent lights
Gemstones
Hugs
Indigo
Jeopardy
Kaleidoscope
Love
Mazes
Newspaper
Obama
Pasta
Quotations
Russian Roulette
Soap Operas
Time travel
Utilitarianism
Virginity
Waffles
Xerox machines
Youth
Zero

It’s easier to say 26 things than 1.

Even at the novel’s beginning, the character I most hated was the narrator, being not Stoically objective enough. It is the Greek Chorus, delivering a letter and bringing news and sharing common observations; wanting to be the star, it must settle for directing. “Atonement” is not its story, no matter how much it wants it to be.

Unreliability of witnesses adds a new dimension: is better to lie, or to tell something that seems to be true from one's perspective but isn't. Having lied, for what reason should truth later be told? The WW2 flight (with the scenestealing Nettle and Mace) is laced with lying to survive, although ironically as it turns out.

Even though I have seen it before elsewhere (Odyssey, Eco, Scrubs, myself), the conceit is good to see again.

(Sorry it took so long.)

There is something grand about the elegant process by which single becomes plural, especially with shiny machines full of options, colors, and a glorious efficient speed. Even tending to a jammed machine is a talent, with such satisfaction when one can cancel a call to the paramedics because of CPR performed.

Shredding, however, I despise. If copying is creation, shredding is destruction, a violent process cynically testifying to misanthropy, opting for ruin over recycling.

Every job I have had has involved copy machines in some way, to my delight, would that this streak continue to repeat.

Every Friday.

“I’m only happy when it rains…”

“Would you like me to make a list of all the people who don't like you?”

I’m somewhat surprised, trying to list pet peeves, how few actions I loathe.

Do you know who his daughter is?
Rashida Jones?
Yeah!
You totally did not expect me to get that.
No!

Did you see M[]’s desk?
“The Swedish fish?”
Yeah. Did you see the note?
“Note?”
It explained how I was inspired by the sea lion show, and figured we could use some positive reinforcement whenever we shelve a cart, or find an invoice, or balance a ball on our nose.
“I’ve already had 8.”
Then I guess you’re really good at balancing balls on your nose. <pause> I didn’t even mean that.

“He said, “Reese’s Pieces, Swedish Fish…”

The Platonic Ideal of a Fish is Swedish.

While watching the sea lion show, I realized that what Trade really could use is more positive reinforcement. So, you can give us one of these now, whenever one of us files an inovoice, or shelves a cart, or balances a ball on our nose.

What happened to Pythagoras?

Go fourth and conquer.

No, I really hate that guy.

Pasta types should not be blended.

It’s a combination of customer service and protect the country.

“Are you a terrorist?”
What type of answer are you expecting?

“Cheeseburger in Paradise: I think it is *actually* about cheeseburgers. It is the one song that is not about love *or* drugs that I have encountered. Prove me wrong.”
Thermonuclear war is a big third category.
“Name me a couple about that.”
99 Luftballoons, We Didn't Start the Fire.

Sex, drugs, and rock & roll.

“Is Forever Young about drugs or sex?”
Thermonuclear war.
“I guess that makes sense. Maybe.”
I'm not even kidding. I would have said thermonuclear war no matter what song you mentioned. But, it is.

“It knows its lines / It’s well rehearsed…”

Discovering that a song that I enjoy is really about drugs, in a how-did-I-not-see-that-before kind of way, keeps me up at night.

“…Dream on…”

“Everytime that I look in the mirror…”
Dreaming of someone who’s dreaming of me.
“…The past is gone…”
Dreaming of someone who’s dreaming of who I’m dreaming of.
“…Got to lose to know how to win…”
Dreaming of someone who’s dreaming of who I dreamt of.
“…All the things come back…”
Dreaming of someone who I dreamt of.
“…Dream on…”

Loyalty is stronger than obligation. Ideals are bigger than people. Self-identity cannot be constrained by others; it bursts out in a battle of defiance, with the caliber of strength usually reserved for mid-epic digressions. Someone else can point out aesthetic, but it can only be recognized as a means and an end. Questions get asked, games get played. No matter what democracy tries to do, the Constitution will remain.

Deep down I think I might be an optimist.

<smiles>

“A working class hero is something to be…”

I play scrabble like I play poker.

Photo finish.