Overheard in San Francisco today: "The buses travel in threes, like nuns." I thought that was a lovely bit of accidental anthropomorphism; it sparked an image in my head of missionary buses, spreading the Word of the Leaky Gasket and the Coming of the Great Oil Change. Protected by divinity, a perambulating trinity, from here unto eternity.

I'm in the midst of my Time Away from Second Life. I've done this twice before, when the drama gets to be too much, or things have started to seem less special. It's remarkable that, even in a virtual space, surrounded by the impossible, even the extraordinary can deliquesce into the quotidian.

I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, and I'm still able to poke my head in to get information for Second Life Insider, but no socialization for me. It always eats up my time until there's nothing else to do but get into bed. I'm busier than I've ever been, and while that's a welcome change in some ways, I've found that if I'm not careful, things will quickly devolve into mere existence -- hurrying to keep up with the breakneck speed of Life for its own sake, rather than enjoying the journey.

It's that, in fact, which has kept me from posting to this blog on a regular basis -- not enough time, or at least, the perceived value of blogging is outweighed by the obvious value of Real Life work and spending time with my pup. Yet I see the ongoing blogging-level communication and want to be a part of it, so I'll try to keep up!

Glass of milk
Standing in between extinction in the cold
and explosive radiating growth
-- 'Mammal', They Might Be Giants

Just interviewed Eric Rice/Spin Martin for On the Inside

I gotta say, Eric Rice is a living example of self-realization. He's basically doing what he wants, working how he wants, being creative and progressive, on his own terms -- and getting paid to do it. I want his career! It was a great interview, and it'll go up sometime next week.

In Other News, I'm debating whether or not to keep this blog active. As you all know, I post here pretty infrequently, and of varying quality. False modesty aside, I do think I've posted some nice bits here, but maybe I'll just move it all over to something else and go from there... any ideas, anyone?

They call me free
But I call me a fool
-- "Free", Train

New Post Here

Pathetic greeting! Lame excuse for being away for so long, followed by equally absurd promise to never do it again.

Patently obvious observation of life. Painful and juvenile joke. Pointless and unnecessary explication of said joke, with pop culture references thrown in. Continued explication. Continued explication. Continued explication. Explication ad nauseam.

Too-long-deferred wrap-up. Ridiculous attempt at soundbite-ish final comment.

This song's just six words long
This song's just six words long
This song's just six words long
This song's just six words long
-- (This Song's Just) Six Words Long, "Weird Al" Yankovic

Now I really CAN bark in your ear!

The wondrous and vivacious Intellagirl Tully has, in a moment of senselessness, interviewed me for her podcast, the Intellacast! Go check it out here!

I hope to return to regular blogging soon, where I will offer my viewpoint on Pop Tarts. Deathless prose, on the next Akela Show!

And when they ask who's giving the rides I feel as if I promised I'd look out For all the lonely souls who still go home without When the shoulder upstairs gets cold If he had his way we'd all be old

And he's got nerve
Asking this Lolita nation to bow and serve
-- "We Love You Carol and Allison", Game Theory

Happy Horny Werewolf Day!

I want you all to know I had nothing to do with any of this, despite what the villagers with torches and pitchforks want you to believe.

St. Valentine's day, too, I couldn't care less about. I'm all about the Love all the time! I don't need The Man to tell me when to respond to a female's estrus cycle! And the last time I saw a winged baby shooting arrows into people I ate the ever-livin' Hades outta him.

The irony? I was rewarded for that by my choice of willing female wolfettes, by a grateful populace. It was non-stop howl THAT weekend, lemme tell you.

By what about the rest of you? Do you enjoy the Hallmark Holiday? And if you do, can I have one of those little candy hearts?

You make me feel
You are so real
You are to me
You make me feel I could step out of Time
-- "Step Out of Time", Jane Child

First rule of Squid Club: DON'T TALK ABOUT SQUID CLUB

This post is about my least favorite critter in the world: the Squid, Giant or Otherwise.

Okay. Okay. *deep, calming breaths* Seriously. Who needs all those legs? I can just barely handle the octopus with their 8 legs, but squid have 10! That's like... 4 more! But perhaps I'm being too reactionary. Maybe they evolved them in response to a pressing need to... what? Stir a lot of cake batter all at once? Massage a bunch of clients? Play both sides of a tennis match? Come on, Nature, there's no good gods-damned reason for this aberration of all that is Holy and Yummy!

"But Akela!" you say, "As one of Nature's creatures yourself, and one that, by all accounts, is widely feared and misunderstood, shouldn't you be more sympathetic to your fellow living beings?" Well, to that, I reply: How the hell did you get in my house? Secondly, get that thing out of your mouth. Thirdly, nice shoes... what're those, Jimmy Choo? Fourthly, can you scratch this itch between my shoulderblades? I just can't reach it. **leg spasms**

Okay. What were we talking about? Oh, yes, sympathy for a fellow beastie. Well, Margaret Friggin' Mead, I point you toward Exhibit A:
I mean, come ON! You can't seriously expect me to cuddle up to this thing like we're fellow Mensa members!

What in the Hell of the Telemarketers is going on here? WHO NEEDS ARMS THAT LONG? I'm thinking evolution went something like this:

"Hey, check me out, I'm this really horrible, hatchet-headed monstrosity with no discernable sensory organs! If people see me, they're likely to run in one direction for at least 10 minutes, and man am I hungry! No respectable fish, crab, or realistically edible animal is going to come anywhere near me. How will I eat? Hey, I know! *makes attempt to snap in sudden epiphany, but fails because of its nightmarish lack of bones* I'll slowly, over hundreds of years, develop in such a way that my arms will stretch out so far from my freakish body that no one will even know they belong to me! Sweet! My prey will wander into my clutches as unaware and innocent as a newborn lamb, a mammal with which I can't possibly know anything because we inhabit two completely different and separate worlds, but you catch my drift, invisible listener! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

"...

"Crap. How will I get it to my mouth?"

Whoa, I almost started to feel sorry for the benighted thing. I gotta nip that in the bud right now. Oh, and by the way, BEAKS? Why in the howling madness do they need beaks? I'm just barely able to entertain the idea that avians descended from reptiles... do I really need to see a connection between birds and squid? Imagine, if you will, this scene:

EXTERIOR, DAY: A barnacle-encrusted galleon plies its way through the choppy waters just off the coast of an island nation, a fearsome pirate captain at the helm. He's everything you expect in a scary buccaneer: wild beard, eyepatch, pegleg, and on his shoulder, echoing his every utterance, his beloved pet squid.

BLACKGOATEE
Avast, ye scurvy dogs! I'll keelhaul the lot o' ye if'n ye don't get this miserable wreck of a ship hightailin' toward clearer waters! Strike sail and set out for the Africas! What say ye, Polly?

POLLY
(muffled clacking)

BLACKGOATEE
(face in palm) Arr.

So, to sum up: Fewer legs are better. Bones are good. Beaks belong on birds. And for the love of all that is decent, have a freakin' FACE, people.

I'd like to be
Under the sea
In an Octopus's Garden, in the shade... AAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHHHNONONONONONONOGETITAWAYFROMMEEEEEEEEEEEE
"Octopus's Garden", The Beatles (modified version)

BAROOOOOOO

Why does RL keep getting in the way of my blogging? Here it is, 2007, and I've not touched this space since last year! Bad wolfie, no cookie! Has anyone missed me? Does anyone care? Should I just abandon this altogether?

But sometimes you gotta do that kinda thing
When love breaks down like a turd in the rain
Even for my baby
Who always called me Daddy when she came
-- "Baby", The Billy Nayer Show