The Crushing Weight of Continuity

I love the title for this post, but am having a terrible time discerning why. The story behind it is a common exerience i.e. driving for nine hours straight, and was meant to reveal why after long car trips wear people down. Words, however, escape me because I am extremely tired. The mental effort of keeping my car on the road robbed me of all my mental reserves. The state of continual focus on a scene of pavement, trucks, and skid marks took all my cognitive abilities except those of the sensory perceptions. Mental strength and endurance parallel physical attributes. Both must be exercised or they will be lost, and apparently I need more practice.

Story One:
There once was a boy who thought very little. As he lay on his bed, his mind raced across a field of nothing. He could stand, eat, listen, and sometimes follow simple directions.

One day, the boy woke to his mothers call.
His mother said, "Come." He came.
His mother said, "Eat." He ate.
His mother said, "Listen!" And he thought about it.
"Do I have too?"
His mother smiled. That was a beginning.

A few months later, the boy climbed into bed at night. His mother tucked him in and turned off the lights. As he lay under the sheets, his mind raced over fields of color.

Story Two:
There once was a boy who moved very little.
His father kindly kicked him off the couch and made him play something.
The boy moved more.

Gotta love short stories. Short short stories.

Ode to the Victors: Movement One

Arizona basketball fans mourn. Your vaulted team, favorites of many a sportscaster, were handed a crushing, season ending loss. No doubt you believed in Stoudamire and Frye, both brilliant players. With only a few minutes to go, you confidently assessed the game situation and declared your team victor.

At that time, I did too. But we were all wrong.

Miraculously, the Illini battled to the last basket. Deron Williams made threes; Luther Head stole inbound passes and finished strong. Yes, as the fat lady waltzed on stage, the Illini basketball team tripped, grappled, and drove her offstage with a flurry of shots. Much like the unconscious fat lady behind the curtains, Arizona was stunned.

Illini 90 - Arizona 89 in overtime.

Eat it.

The Weapons of Love

I was chilling in Borders Bookstore today, reading as much manga as I could fit in before my mother came to pick me up. Blade of the Immortal, King of Hell, Hellsing, Samurai and Executioner, and Berserk were all on the reading list. Even a cursory glance at my selections should reveal my personal preference of high action. Assassins, samurai, and knights all dwell within those excellent pages. Mother came, sadly, and we went to pick up my father at church. As mother and I pulled up, my father turned the lights off in his office, indicating that he saw us and would come out soon. As it was raining outside, mother and I sat in the car and waited. And waited. Well, we didn't wait very long, but when you expect someone to come out in five seconds, two minutes is an eternity. Mother was getting a little impatient, and began to inquire about my father whereabouts.

Allow me to transcibe our conversation.

Mother: Where could your Father be?
Me: I don't know. Maybe he was ambushed by assassins.
Mother: No...
Me: I'm serious! The assassins turned off the lights as we pulled up to hide the gruesome details.
Mother: Well, you better go in and check. Let me know how long it will take.
Me: How long what will take?
Mother: Defeating the assassins.
Me: Oh. That shouldn't take too long. I'll likely use a few knives and skillfully disable them.
Mother: Why don't you disable them with love?
Me: How do you kill someone with love?
Mother: Well, you just need to change them with your love.
Me: Like the difference between life and death change?
Mother: Go get your father.

As you can tell, I had assassins and violence on the brain. And remember the next time assassins attack, defeat them with love.

A Cloud of Mystery

Have you ever moved a piano? Knowing the way pianos are usually moved, you should remember if you had, but, for those who have never experienced the wonders of this particular physical labor, allow me to describe due process. Imagine getting six of your strongest friends stacked around this massive object. A few simple steps follow. First of all, with six people around the piano, the fastest anyone can move is a shuffle. Second, since pianos have enough handholds for two, the remaining four people do nothing and only serve to threaten the balance in the air. Then come stairs or any other obstacle presenting itself in the middle of the path to and from the moving truck. Amatur movers consider the move to be successful if the piano can only receive a single wound to the structure of the piano like, say, breaking off a leg, and five superficial injuries like scratches, dents, and scrapes. Getting off with no damage is more akin to a miracle. That is the way people believe pianos should be moved.

And people are crazy.

Suprising as it may sound, there is a better way! For many there is only one step: call a professional piano mover. What's that I hear? You want to know how to move a piano without all the hassle? If you follow this one simple rule, your next piano move will be 100 times easier. Never carry the piano. Carrying a piano is about the dumbest thing you can do. The only reason you pick up the piano is to set it on and off a set of wheels called a dolly. From there you roll it everywhere it needs to go. Yes, there's a reason pianos only have two handholds. Only two people are needed! Two people are fully capable of rolling most pianos around any obstales. Stairs? No problem. Outside porch flights are perfect for ramps. Inside stairs require the piano to be placed on a skide and then slide up the stairs, but never, ever, carried up the stairs.

Yesterday I moved thirty one pianos. My father and I are machines. We were setting up a steinway sale, and at one point my father calculated we moved a grand piano from the truck into the store and set it up, lire and all, in about ten minutes per piano. You too are capable of such feats. All you need is experience, equipment, and the ability to remember one rule. Never, under any circumstance, carry a piano.

The Soundings of a Glorified Crow

Under the gun.

It is my distinct pleasure to welcome the random viewer to my blog. Allow me to begin the obligatory introduction and explanation of myself and this site. My intentions are to inform the masses. Topics will range from discussions on life and philosophy to exciting descriptions of the mundane.

Who am I joking?

Actually, I am more like a solitary raven. Just one big beautiful bird squawking, garnering no respect, and commonly associated with the evil crow.

In reality, being associated with a crow isn't that bad. Most people classify crows as pests, and they probably are. However, animals are pests for two reasons. First, when animals flourish then they become pests. Second, if animals are intelligent and skirt around the common human conception animal stupidity. Crows are smart, more so then the rest of their feathered brethren and also numerous. With two strikes, crows cannot avoid humanities negative stereotype. If only we could look past labels to the real heart of the creature. Crows and their bigger, most likely dumber, cousin the raven rock and should be revered.

In short, I named the blog Ravens Haunt because ravens reign and haunt sounds nice.