Los Angeles Sans Cars

Running on Empty from Ross Ching on Vimeo.


I often find myself dreaming of a world without cars. I'm not sure exactly what it would mean, in truth. But this is an awesome vision of how much space cars take up in our minds. It'd be amazing to see this with the streets slowly filling up with people, events, plants, etc.

Charlie Brown's Long Road To Insanity

In all the excitement of running around looking after my youngins, I forgot that this week is the anniversary of the first Peanuts strip. Please enjoy. I also include a classic sociopathic Lucy for your pleasure. Or hers, at least.

Hearing this, Charlie Brown begins plotting his vengeance.

"No seriously, sister. You need treatment."

Mega-Narrative Versus Crocosaurus

"I have references! Rawr!"

I love a lot of things about my kids. But one of the most amazing things about them is their ability to take elements that are supposed to be scripted (like movies and toys and such) and take them wildly off script. It is endlessly entertaining. Almost every day I need to stop whatever I am doing just to listen to the craziest story ever told. These stories frequently involve the same cast of characters. Crocosaurus, Crack-Bear, and Commander Taviri are a part of the core group. Other bit players come in and out, including Rainbow Baby and Bluke. The kids take turns being "in charge" of certain characters, and each kid can have a very different take on the backstory. It gets confusing.

I realize this takes a little explaining. (Especially Crack-Bear. I totally take the blame for that.) So let me do a little Dramatis Personae for you.

Crocosaurus is a crocodile toy, given to us years ago by a good friend. He is frequently involved with fighting bad guys and protecting others. He also watches babies. He's kind of a reptilian nanny beast. He's meaner when Arkaedi is in charge of him.

Crack-Bear is the bad guy. He was named after an unfortunate slip of the tongue by Papa. The bear had just shown up out of nowhere when we were living in a sketchy neighborhood, and I had no idea where he had wandered in from... so I told the kids that they could have the crack bear if I washed it. Viri of course named him Crack-Bear immediately, and my careless talk had created a nemesis for every other toy. Viri frequently tries to reform him, and make him good. According to Arkaedi, however, he should be sent away. That girl has no compassion.

Commander Taviri is the space faring warrior alter-ego of Taviri. He has a magic watch, a super ship, and many hundreds of powers and gadgets. He's basically a Silver Age Superman, he can do anything until the narrative requires a challenge.

In addition to these core stories, there are hundreds of little variants. Many of these are cars and trucks who need cared for or helped. Rainbow Baby is a stock car who frequently runs into trouble and needs to be saved. Bluke is another car in peril. (A "blue car," hence Bluke. Arkaedi was proud of that one.) The cars names are a source of contention for the kids. Arkaedi is a fan of pun based names, or colorful ones. So there is a Cocoa, a Mac...

I wish I could convey the endless variety that these games take. It's astounding. It's like a scene from Toy Story if Andy were simultaneously channeling every science fiction image, fairy story, and PBS cartoon ever made. It's wonderful.

I still feel a little bad about Crack-Bear. He's an okay guy, he just has a problem. If Commander Taviri spent less time fighting Evil and more time building planetary treatment facilities...

Occupy Away!

Old Jaded Jack

The whole occupation of Wall Street thing is making me sad. It reminds me of my age, my anger levels, and my own inability to have any faith anymore that people can turn things around.

Not that I believe that they can't, either. That would almost be easier. Nihilism would be a welcome escape, and escape is one option that I never choose. It's just that I no longer have the passionate belief that people will create a better society that I once had. I'm not sure where exactly that belief went; but I'd like it back.

Jack Kerouac became a bitter old man rather quickly after becoming famous. He avoided or rejected many of his old friends, and took to drinking and spouting conservative rhetoric instead of traveling and writing. Everything that fueled his earlier creative impulses seemed lost. He chose the escapist route. Or perhaps he just fell into it. Alcohol chose it for him.

I'm not that person. I'm not jaded. I'm still essentially a positive person. But my positivity has become focused. Instead of the broad, sweeping romanticism of my youth it's a scalpel of positive energy. I'm positive about my daily interactions. I'm enthusiastic about individuals in a way that the jaded Jacks of the world don't seem to be.

To cite an example: As I was walking through the store today, my mind was on a series of frustrations. I was angry and sad. And a woman cut me off, pulling her cart in front of me and stopping in confusion. She was an old woman, and I smiled at her. As much as the world in general was bothering me, I had nothing but affection for the face of this old woman standing in front of me. In a broad sense, I was upset at humanity. But this specific woman, how could I be mad at her? She was just an old lady trying to get her Sunday shopping done.

That's how I feel about the protests. I'm irritated by their futility, in the grand scheme. But you, individual protester- when I see your photo, I smile. I like you. I can't extrapolate that feeling to the broad movement, or our future as a species. But I can hope you turn out okay. I hope I don't become too jaded for that.

Book of the Month Club: Two Popular Books and A Crazy Poet

I have more time on my hands lately than I've had in years. Especially if I let that pile of laundry just sit there. Staring at me. Accusingly. This has resulted in some good and bad things. One of the good things is my reading list is actually getting read. Which is awesome. So I've decided to post the occasional update about it, in the form of this book of the month club style review. My reading list has always been supremely nerdy. Which is no great surprise. It leans towards science fiction, fantasy, and poetry. Although I'm not averse to reading something else that crosses my admittedly narrow field of vision, it is almost always one of these books on my desk. So, the three nerdy books of the month, in no particular order.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins was a great gym read. It's fast paced and exciting, and I read most of it while on the treadmill at the gym. Which is weird- dystopian young adult science fiction isn't an obvious choice for a book reading while running. But it makes sense, in a way. The book is about a scary future in which different towns have been subjugated by a central Capital city, and are forced to send two tributes to compete in the titular games. The games are essentially a gladiatorial where everyone fights, and the last person to survive wins. Not an original premise, but a well-executed one. It was a fun read. Apparently they are making a film, which is a shame. The protagonist will be turned into a generically hot girl. The character in the book is refreshing, realistic, and three dimensional. She seems like a real girl, given the situation in which she finds herself. I'm starting the second book in the trilogy soon.

Speaking of second books in a series, I'm also reading The Magician King, the second in a series by Lev Grossman. It is easy to describe this as a Harry Potter for adults, which is fair enough, though it doesn't do the book justice. It's really more of a book about how these escapist fantasies like Narnia and Harry Potter are a response to the psychological trauma of our society. And despite some excessive drama, the books are fantastic. The story centers around graduates of a magical school (featured in the first book) who are living in a Narnia-esque kingdom. The main character is a typical "smart outcast" stereotype, but the author writes with an amazing self awareness. It's a meta concept that could have easily become silly, but he makes it work. In a way I'm shocked at how popular this series is, but it's nice to see.

And of course, any of my reading lists would not be complete without the obligatory poetry rant. I've actually been catching up on quite a bit of poetry this month, including some Susan Howe, Robert Duncan, Charles Reznikoff, and others. But sitting on my desk is a collection of poetry that is simultaneously amazing and responsible for horrors in poetry: The Poetical Works of John Keats. It's no secret that most poetry is terrible. There a few reasons for this. One of which is the idea that poetry is simply prose narratives told slightly askew. One is that love of words is all a poet needs. But a major problem has been the inability of current generations to bring the energy and passion for language that people like Keats took for granted and translate it into a modern verse. Some try and succeed, of course. But most fail, because they can't effectively use the tool of language. When Keats writes with the particular rhyme and meter of his age, he was using the poetic vernacular of Romantics, the words of his society. He was experimenting, but within a framework that made the poems work. Poets today are either experimenting for the sake of experimenting, or using prose as though it is poetry. Keats was doing neither, though no one bothers to read him to remember that.

Space Mutiny: Demanding the Huge Basement Gets Furnished Or Else!

Thankfully I have something to watch when I eventually get tired of guarding children from monsters. As well as names for monsters!

The Horrible Awful Sleep Conundrum

I dread the evening routine at our house. Typically it involves brushing teeth and story time, and then lying in bed arguing with Taviri for hours. He is scared to be alone at night, so we usually stay with him until he falls asleep. This has been an easy enough thing in the past- there were days when he was asleep in ten or fifteen minutes, and we get up and go on with our day. Lately, however, it's been a problem. He does not want to sleep. He is scared of the closet, of the imaginary monsters. Tonight he told Jaime that he "feels like something is there, and I'm just barely getting away!" Of course he has to freak me out thoroughly in the process of keeping me up. The weird thing is that I'm not sure what to do. He isn't arguing to stay up, or get something. Even if I were inclined to just "give in" and do what he wants, there isn't anything to do! I can tell him his room is safe, but he stopped trusting anything he couldn't verify with experiment at age 3. And honestly in a world where Michelle Bachmann is considered a viable political candidate it feels disingenuous to tell him there are no monsters. This is a way in which having a sensible, matter of fact daughter cheers me up. Arkaedi is just as creative as he is-- her games are full of voices and characters and strange events. But she just deals with everything. There are, as she describes them, "monsters with no eyes" in her room. Cause for concern, sure. But nothing to miss a nap over. She is going to get to bed and cuddle her lemur, or pink Godzilla, and go to sleep. The monster will just have to accept that. Taviri is all histrionics. Arkaedi is business. I never thought that one thing I would really wish for would be for the kids to go to bed on time. I've become my mother. Except... I kind of believe him when he talks about the monsters. But like Arkaedi, I want a good eight hours of sleep before I have to deal with them.