Noir Card
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Finding Eternal Calm in a Chaotic World (Dante-ism)
Meditation.
-the action or practice of meditating: a life of meditation.
• a written or spoken discourse expressing considered thoughts on a subject: his later letters are intense meditations on man’s exploitation of his fellows.
ORIGIN Middle English: from Old French, from Latin meditatio(n-), from meditari (see meditate) .
We can practice meditation at any time and in many forms in our lives. Some of us practice it without realizing it.
I myself have been a longtime practitioner of something I like to call Dante-ism. It is an exercise in relaxation. The goal is to imagine a new level of hell for someone and through that visualization melt away the feelings of stress that you are currently experiencing. Dante probably imagined quite a few more levels than nine. I am sure he had to cut it short due to deadlines. I myself have blown way past double digit figures.
I find Dante-ism particularly effective while driving. Case in point. I find myself at a four-way stop sign waiting for a couple to exit the crosswalk when another car jumps their turn. I calmly let the tension go as I design a new level of hell for the driver; a time slightly less than eternity spent waiting for pedestrians at a crosswalk while an infinite stream of cars jump the gun. Not quite satisfied, an additional inspiration adds the coup de gras. The car stereo of the perpetrator will now be playing that one Rick Astley song (“ never gonna give you up …”*) in a loop. There are two dangers for you the designer when crafting these scenarios. The first is that you may visualize the imagery for too long forcing the drivers behind you to taylor a level of hell specifically for you. The second danger is that you run the risk of being stuck with that blasted song in your head the rest of the day.
I find Dante-ism to be especially calming in cases where a narrow escape from death has just occurred and the culprit is the carelessness of others. This experience is more common for those who commute to work but may also occur for those who actively participate in life as the role of an innocent pedestrian. The cases in this category that I am familiar with are usually attributed to someone not paying attention. The pedestrian scenario can provide more of a challenge when crafting a new level of hell if the perpetrator is sans automobile. In this case there is no vehicle with with which to imprison the guilty for all eternity and more imagination is required to craft the ultimate floor in your ever increasing high rise of hell.**
One may find that writers block is getting in the way crafting a sufficiently annoying level of hell. In such cases the afore mentioned cross walk scenario works well in a pinch. The idea of the guilty forever unable to cross an intersection can be quite calming. Throw in the video for that Rick Astley song in a loop on his smart phone and you have the ingredients for nirvana. Limit this scenario to cases where you have tried mightily but can not quite come up with an adequate scenario to achieve that state of calm that may be desperately required. Instead, use the opportunity to challenge your imagination. Bystanders can often be incorporated into the scene to help trap the perpetrator in time.
Creating the added annoyance factor is where ones imagination can be really be stretched. While I find it hard to fathom that someone would not find Rick Astley annoying, and neigh I say enjoyable, improbable events do occur in life and there is plenty of irritating songs out there to choose from. It is not important as to whether the perpetrator will find it maddening, it’s all about you . Remember meditation is a means to achieve personal growth and is meant to be a rewarding experience.
*I can’t bring myself to continue.
**Good band name by the way. I am thinking something in the Death Metal genre
On the Fourth Day Herbert Created Hills
It was the fourth day of creation and God, the creator, the big guy, the big girl or however you refer to him/her/it in your belief system, summoned one of the new aides, Herbert, to create hills.
“Herbert. Can I call you Herb?”
“Sure whatever floats your boat big guy.”
“Herb. I called you here to give you your purpose, the job that will be your responsibility and your’s alone.”
“Ooh, sounds exiting big guy. Drop it on me.”
“Drop it on you?”
“Yea it’s a saying”
“Not anymore it’s not.”
“Yea, It’s stupid. I don’t know who started it.”
“Pay attention Herb. Your job is to build hills.”
“Hills?”
“Yea here is an image as an example.”
“Wow, you showed it right on that bush. How did you do that?”
“A mere parlor trick. Now pay attention and study the example. You are
responsible for all the hills that will be built.”
“All of them? As in every one of them?”
“Of course. This world is just getting started so that is the only meaning.”
“Wow. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“Of course you can. I have supreme confidence in you and that’s coming from me, God. If I am behind you, you can’t go wrong.”
“Hey that is catchy. Can I use it?”
“Sure, why not. Many motivational speakers will make money off of it in the future.” Hmm I wonder if I can get royalties? , he thought.
“OK, big guy. I’ll give it my best shot. Where do I start?”
God replaced the image of a hill with a map. “Well, I was thinking of a place that will be named after St. Francis. I call it San Francisco.”
“Cool. I will drop some really nice hills on that.”
“Drop?”
“Sorry, I will create some really nice hills there.”
“Create? I am THE creator but I know what you mean.”
“OK, I will go forth and ‘hillafy.’”
“What? That is definitely not a saying.”
“No, but it can be one.”
“No, it can’t.”
“Very well. I’ll get right on it.”
“I will be back in a few hours to check on the results. If you do well, you will be doing the rest of the hills on this planet”
“Will do big guy.”
God went off to ponder his metaphorical navel* and decide who was going to be creating mountains.
Two hours had gone by and he had yet to decide. He had assigned the lake project, the tree project and had formulated the existence of blue navel lint but for mountains he was at a loss. He decided now would be a good time to check on Herbert.
God decided he would start at a place that eventually would become Chinatown. According to his map it should only be a 5 block walk up to what would be known as Knob Hill.
Much puffing later he had reached the top of the hill. Geez, That felt like 20 blocks. I have got to do more cardio, he thought. He turned to look back at the origin of his hike and was shocked to see how steep the climb had been. Well, I feel better about the shape I’m in but this isn’t a hill. It’s a mountain. I hope I can catch Herb before he can do more damage.
God turned to survey his surroundings and saw Herb making his way up the hill from the area that would be Pacific Heights. Herb arrived a few moments later huffing and puffing.
“Well, gasp, I’m, gasp, done.”
“What do you mean done?”
“I’m, gasp, done with, gasp, all the, gasp, hills for, gasp, this town.”
“Oh, um, good. I like what you’ve done with it. You have proven yourself worthy for a more difficult task however and I am promoting you. Your new title will be maker of mountains.”
“I quite like that,” replied Herb.
“I thought you would. It will make a good band name,” said God.
“Pardon?”
“Oh nothing,” said God.
“I want you to create something like this in this area.” He then displayed a new map image. “If I like what you have done there you will then move on to the continental divide.”
“With a name like that I presume it needs to be real big.”
“Yes, it should be but something tells me you will do just fine.”
* Great band name. Feel free to use it.
Catch Herbert’s next adventure.
Dawn of the Living Character Mash-up (Target Audience Characterpalooza)
I had just completed developing a new character for a series of books I was planning. I was quite proud of Zach and his bright shiny characteristics would appeal to a huge audience.
It was late and the braincells that had not been weeded out by reading, writing and drinking were telling me it was time to hit the sack. I knew enough not to argue, besides arguing with said brain cells would qualify me for a new room with really soft walls and some funky pajamas.
The following morning announced itself brightly and forced me to achieve consciousness. I have got to hang some blinds in that window, I thought. A hot shower and a cup of joe later I headed up to my writers nook anxious to let my character roam freely across the blank pages of my mind; no comment from the gallery please.
I took a seat in my writer’s chair*, powered up my laptop and opened up the notes file for Zach and stared at a blank ‘page’. I waited a few moments for the page to render itself but still nothing. No words, no stray commas, nothing. I double checked the laptop but it was fine. Unfortunately I had not bothered to back up my notes, Zach had disappeared.
It was as if the notes came together to create Zach and he walked off the page (or is it out of the file?). At that moment I heard screams off in the distance. Strange, I guess that’s what happened, I thought.
Well, he is relatively harmless. What could happen? The first rays of light that found him would kill him. That’s what happens to all vampires. Oops, not this one. He has an annoying habit of just sparkling in the sun. It was a surefire way to attract an audience of teenage girls. Vampires can be very romantic until the sun hits them. The whole ‘mass of putrid flesh’ thing is too grody for teenage girls to handle. Sparkling is much more fashionable.
That’s fine, I thought it’s not like he doesn’t have other limitations. As a vampire-zombie he will start decaying soon and no teenage girl will stick around long enough to be in danger. It’s a good thing I took that whole 50 shades of gray thing literally. He should be fairly easy to kill. An axe to the head and a stake to the heart should do the trick.
I gave the problem a bit more thought and found an additional flaw with that scenario. As a vampire-zombie-wizard he may be able to use magic to re-attach his head, as long he still has a wand and one of his hands. That can be overcome, I thought. He can still be killed, if in addition to removing the head and staking the heart his hands are also removed. That can’t be too difficult can it? No, definitely not a deal-breaker. The bigger problem is if he finds a broom and takes to the air. If that happens all bets are off.
This last thought put a damper on the whole ‘stop the character and save the local populace’ notion. I had run out of ideas and enthusiasm. It would be easier to
create a new character from scratch. This time I will have to rethink the whole vampire-zombie-wizard concept. Perhaps I went a little overboard trying to maximize the target audience. Now if I can just ignore the screams until Zach moves on to the next neighborhood. I hope he finds a broom.
*No , it’s nothing fancy, just a regular chair but since I would be writing it became my writers chair. It was parked in front of a desk. A writer’s desk. You can see where this is going.
I Want A New Drug (Jonesing for Broadband)
Living on the road for an extended time requires a decent place to stay. Corporate apartments are fine if you don’t have time to make other arrangements or the stretch your serving on the road is short. If you’re doing at least six months you want your digs to be nice. Nice is not covered by corporate housing. Corporate housing covers convenience.
I had found the place, not perfect but close. It was nice. Because it was nice I had to rent furniture and arrange connections to the real world. Getting a TV hookup turned out to be easy. The internet was another story. It was in high demand and the way I was being treated as a customer you would have thought it was a controlled substance.
“The soonest we can install is the 9th sir”
“January 9th, ok that works.”
“No sir, February 9th.”
“Are you serious?” Stupid me, stupid question. Yes they were, serious that is.
“Sorry, all of our appointments are booked up until then.”
“Well maybe you need to hire some more people”. They weren’t taking my business advice, go figure.
“Sorry sir. That is the soonest we can get to you”.
“Well ok.” They seemed to be the only internet provider* for my new building so what else could I do . Well, one thing I could do was not use the same company for television. Being a sports junky and avid , ok rabid, follower of my alma mater basketball program I would not be able to wait a month for TV.
Turns out that wouldn’t be a problem. The cable TV division of the same company was prompt and efficient and I had my basketball fix toot-sweet. My internet fix was another story and my addiction to that substance was revealing itself to be much more serious than I thought. I was like a junkie with an out-of-town dealer.**
I went online in the business center of my complex to see if I could do the deal quicker. The providers website said they could do it almost three weeks sooner. That was a good thing considering the guard that shuts down the business center in the evening was fast becoming a friend.
Missed meetings with the internet provider began to drive suspicions and undercurrents of doubt. The day of another scheduled appointment I called the provider for conformation and to tell them to call the leasing office to be let in. The internet provider was insisting that someone who lives at my residence needed to be there during the 8 hour window for the appointment. I was still waiting for them to ask If I was a cop.
“Sorry folks, I know it may come as a surprise but I work for a living. Something has to pay your fee.” The folks at my leasing office were more than welcome to let them in and be there during the entire time of the installation which much to no one’s surprise would not take more than an hour.
“Sorry sir, you or someone who lives there has to let us in”.
“So the people who provide the housing, the leasing office , are not good enough?”
“No sir”. Clever bastards, they must smell a shake down.
“Ok, then I will have to reschedule todays appointment for another time because , and I hope you’re sitting down, It will be inconvenient during my work day to not be at work that entire day”.
“Are you sure sir?”.
“Yes, I am pretty sure work is expecting me to show up at some point during the day. I have to reschedule”. Fortunately they had a four-hour window available the following Monday , just a few days later. Perhaps If I keep running this grift I can actually get them to show up first thing in the morning and get it done in an hour. Ok , who was on drugs now?
Ten hours later I am walking out of work on what was a shorter than usual work day to find umpteen messages on my voicemail. Several of which were whispering communiques from an employee of the internet provider and several were messages from the leasing company.
“..static ..static…Sir this is , garbled voice, from , garbled voice, to install your internet. I am on the way to your address”…
…“ Sir, this is so and so from the leasing office and we have your internet provider here. Is it ok to let them in?” …
“…static …garble garble, sir this is static garble garble from the internet provider. I am at the leasing office waiting to be let in.”
Strange, only the calls from the provider seem to be unintelligible. More importantly, why were they showing up for an appointment that was cancelled?
I had learned two things at this point. The first was that the installer knew the leasing office could let him in and the second was that the internet/communications company had a problem with communications. Ironic or moronic? You choose.
I got home to find out that I was still sans internet. I called the leasing office to let them know that I really meant it when I signed the access permission form and they didn’t have to call me. I then called the provider and promptly entered the mind numbing world of Kenny G as they put me on hold. Shortly afterwords I succumbed to a Kenny G induced coma, an altered state I recommend to no one. I woke up at the breakfast bar at 2 AM, thought it was a shame it was too early for breakfast and dragged myself to bed.
Monday morning arrived and the urge confirm the days appointment with the internet provider was met by the memories of an alto sax seeping from my brain and I thought better of it. I had heard more Kenny G in one lifetime than should be allowed by compassionate human beings.
Returning that evening from a long work day I was greeted by a service order confirming that I now had access to the internet. I fired up my computer and navigated my browser to Google for my first search “Overdose Therapy Kenny G” which returned the following results after dropping duplicates: “Lots of Heavy Metal, Three Power Chords, cranked up to 11.” With a promise to apologize to the neighbors, I walked over to the stereo and began the recovery process.
*Provider, that kinda sounds drug related. Well in America anyway.
**Hey, I have seen enough cop shows to know the lay of the land.
Spotlight; Dan Pawlowski
Hey It’s that guy from that thing…
Growing Up Catholic
I was raised Catholic in a Polish Neighborhood in Chicago. I also went to a parochial school of the Catholic variety. What occurred at the school was most of the major trauma that would shape the rest of my life.
I fell in love with reading from the minute I was exposed to the perils of Dick and Jane. That series soon lost its luster due to the thin plot lines and it was not long before I graduated to reading more sophisticated material. When my reading level had reached to two years beyond my grade I was inducted into the Great Books Club. It was a national program designed to encourage excellence in reading. The club was like any other book club in that its activities consisted of reading assigned selections and then analyzing them. What was unique is that the reading material was purposefully beyond the traditional level of its participants. I was a member in my first year of eligibility as a second grader and the next year as a third grader. I was looking forward to making it my fourth year.
Sister Leonard Ann* had been teaching fourth grade at my school since forever. She had actually taught my father and his brothers. I am not sure I ever heard a good story about her. She was a hateful soul from year 1 and by that I actually mean the first year after Christ died. She was that old. I think Jesus sensed she was on her way and feeling the futility of the future turned himself in.
I entered the fourth grade looking forward to the fifth grade. I just had to survive Sister Leonard Ann. It soon became apparent that for that to happen I had to have luck on my side. It also became apparent that I was not lucky.
I had heard about the sister’s teaching technique from my father and uncles but nothing can really prepare you for the book throwing, knuckle smacking and ear pulling she employed. Well nothing short of a 3 Stooges marathon in 3D. The one thing I had not heard about her was her ability to psychologically break a kid down. I soon became convinced she must have been used to interrogate prisoners during the wars. Yes its plural, I meant all wars.
It was after the first month of school that the Great Books Club members for the year would be announced. I expected this year to be no different. “.. Walter Praczek, Susan Shirzinski and Alan Vostek. Well congratulations children.” My face matched the writing paper on my brand new Big Chief Notebook, pale and blank. I had no idea why my name was not called and I was losing a battle to prevent tears from flowing. Glancing around the room the Sister’s shark like gaze fell upon me. “So tell me Mr. Szybinski. Why did you not make the club this year?” “I, uh, I don’t know.” Then the dam broke and I could see nothing through the refraction of the tears. A few moments but what seemed like hours later the Sister announced that I had indeed made the Club. I first felt relief but that quickly morphed into anger.
Why had the bitch humiliated me? Well, I would have thought, “bitch”, if I used the word. The vocabulary of a nine-year-old Catholic schoolboy in 1970 Chicago generally did not consist of the word bitch. The only word I had at my disposal was wench. A strange word for a nine year old boy but I read a lot. Maybe it was Nathaniel Hawthorne. The author did not matter; the point was she was a wench.
That experience has stayed with me all of my life but time has helped smooth that wound over. I had told this story to my mother a few years back and she was surprised I did not tell her and dad, “Your father would have marched right over to that school and straightened her out.” I bet he would have. I would have loved to have seen it. I had never considered telling my parents at the time. The “good” Sister was a nun and an authority figure and I just figured I had done something wrong. The experience now is pretty much just a story to tell although from time to time I find when something good happens I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. I guess this experience is not done with me or I it. I sense the need for a cathartic book in my future.
*The name has been changed to protect the innocent (me).
Airline Delay Jeopardy.
“Welcome to Airline Delay Jeopardy the game that costs you time , patience and maybe a few years of your life.
“Lets welcome our next contestant Dan. He is an engineer from Colorado. Welcome to Airline Delay Jeopardy Dan.”
“Thanks Alex but they know who I am, I was just here.”
“Oh contraire Dan. It may look like the same set as our other game “Airline Fee Jeopardy” but the stakes are quite different. You will be risking your precious time , patience and perhaps your entire trip.”
“I suppose you want me to be excited about that also Alex?”
“ Of course Dan. What could be more invigorating than the apprehension you feel from your first flight delay to finally boarding, perhaps hours and even days in the future.”
“Yea , be still my beating heart Alex”.
“Are you ready to play Dan?”
“ Do I have a choice Alex?”
“No , No you don’t Dan so put on your big boy pants and lets play “Airline Delay Jeopardy.”
“Um, yeah they’re on, my pants that is. Oh yea, lets play”.
“Now you’re talking Dan. So pick a category.”
“Lets go with “What Else Could Go Wrong “ for 50 Alex.”
“Good Choice Dan.”
“It’s the only category Alex.”
“Yes but none the less, here is your question”. “Dan you are traveling from Washington Dulles and your plane has changed gates. What obstacles await you”
“The new gate is not near a bar Alex?”
“Funny Dan but that is not the correct form or answer. Remember to answer in the form of a question.
The correct answer Dan would be “What is to get to the new gate you must either go back through security or take a shuttle that will take you to the new gate. Once you get there you will find that the gate assignment has been changed back to the original gate. I hope you like shuttle busses Dan”.
“But I am not going to DC Alex.”
“Well lets face it, your final destination is a crapshoot Dan.”
“Quickly choose your next question Dan, we have more people to delay.”
“God forbid I get in the way of that Alex. I will choose , hmm, how about the next question in the same category for 100 Alex.”
“I sense sarcasm Dan.”
“Who me? Of course not, it’s more closer to smarminess”.
“Dan you are flying out of Kansas City. What exciting reason for a delay could be headed your way?”
“Your definition of exciting is different from mine Alex so I have no clue.”
“ Now you’re not even trying Dan.”
“Yea I’m sorry Alex, when it comes to airport delays I’m an underachiever.”
“Well Dan in this case your delay is due to your plane has no potable water. You can’t go anywhere when your bathrooms are out-of-order Dan.”
“Apparently you also have a different definition of potable Alex, unless you are traveling with your dog.”
“Now that you mention it Dan, it really is more smarminess than sarcasm. Choose your last question Dan. “
“Oh goody Alex. I choose……the next question for 150.”
“Dan you are traveling from Denver to Kansas City ,what uncomfortable situation could you be in?” “Well Alex, the fact that we are finally following my flight plan tells me that I am in for another delay. I hope it’s just a slight one”
“Well Dan you would be kind of, sort of, wrong. When you get to the airport you discover that your plane has changed gates. This in itself is just a minor inconvenience. When you get to the gate you find out that the plane has been delayed by 15 minutes.”
“So I was right Alex.”
“Dan haven’t you learned by now? It’s the old bait and switch. Once you get on the plane , runway delays will cause it to increase to 40 minutes.”
“Well that is still not too bad.”
“Your a half full kind of guy aren’t you Dan. There is one more part to this answer. There is no cool air flowing through the cabin and your plane is waiting with the sun shining on your side of the plane and from what I hear you’re a human furnace.”
“Oh swell Alex. That’s sarcasm by the way. I am having a hard time trying to fill the glass on this one Alex.”
“Let me help you with that Dan. This is a great chance to enjoy a sauna that you would normally pay for.”
“ I am paying for it Alex. Believe me , I’m paying for it.”
I Still Miss Him (Charles Bronson)
It was 18 years ago today that my Dad passed away. He was on my mind all day and this evening. Perhaps that is why I could not sleep and now find my self pounding away at my keyboard (it sounds better than clicking away on my laptop doesn’t it). In memory of him I am republishing a post from my old site that I wrote for fathers day last year. I hope you enjoy it.
Charles Bronson
I was really alone for the first time in my life. I was living in Maryland while doing a student coop for the Bureau of Census. Eighteen hundred miles from my family and a girlfriend and renting a room from a total stranger. I found myself channel surfing one evening and stumbled upon an old Charles Bronson movie from his early days. When he appeared on screen I was taken aback by how much he resembled my father when he was young. It must have been a Charles Bronson marathon because later on I caught a more recent movie of his and damn if he did not mirror my father in later life also. I missed him than as much as I do now. Thinking about him now I realize that much like Charles Bronson’s characters my dad was an old school man. The archetype of the strong silent hero. He was not a man of words but of action. Of course his actions were a little more sedate then vigilante justice , well except for the time he popped out of the family station wagon with his shotgun to confront some neighborhood vandals , but just as important none the less.
I can probably count on both hands the number of times I remember that he told me he loved me. The number of times he showed me however would take a super computer to calculate. The only regret I have involves something I told him when he was helping me move to DC after college. I thought I was grown up enough not to be called Danny anymore and I kindly asked him to call me Dan or Daniel. I wish I would have kept my mouth shut. I would let him call me anything he wants to just to have him back. I have gradually tried let the guilt go as time has gone by, besides that doesn’t seem the kind of thing that Charles Bronson would have let bother him and my dad continued to show me how to live , how to love and how to battle through life.
I am still a little repentant these days and actually like it when people call me Danny. I would like to continue writing this but well there seems to be something in my eye. Instead I will raise a glass of Scotch. To Casey and Charles Bronson.
Ode To The Vanishing Record Store (reprise for Record Store Day)
Record stores, To me they were magical. Just their names cast spells of joy , angst and love all at once. Kief’s Records and Tapes, Waxie Maxie’s, Penguin Feather Records, Paul’s Records and Tapes, Twist and Shout. The list is endless. Unfortunately the digital age may spell the demise of these places and that’s too bad. They were great places to learn about new bands and argue the important questions in life. Who was more significant to the punk movement , The Sex Pistols or The Ramones? Passersby would offer “you don’t know what you’re talking about because you didn’t even mention The Stooges“. Which power trio had the best drummer, Rush or ELP (Emerson , Lake and Palmer)? Or which guitarist really was God, Eric Clapton or Jimmy Page? I of course would toss in “You didn’t even mention Stevie Ray Vaughn or Jimmie Hendrix you boobs”. Try having these arguments while downloading from iTunes.
No matter the name or the layout they all had one thing in common. They had this mysterious aura about them. I am not sure if it was the smell, which often was of incense ,or just the knowledge that you were about to discover something new and mind-blowing. To me they also felt foreboding. Perhaps that’s because my introduction to music stores occurred during the seventies when many of them doubled as a “head shop”. Go ask you parents what that is. God I’m old. So if you are lucky to still have a music store ( CD/Records) around and not just a section of Walmart because you really can’t discover anything there except a new kind of fungus, visit it and spend some money there before it’s too late. I gotta go, Twist and Shout is calling me.