Percolating

I may have to write something about zombies. I talk about them all the time. And Steve is, I think, just the slightest bit sick of hearing it (as are, I imagine, any of the people with whom I come into contact on any sort of regular basis). There are lots of folks talking about zombies right now. There's that new book about Elizabeth Bennett battling them. There's the neoconservatives' worst nightmare. There are discussions about higher education funding (disenfranchised bitches that they are) for zombies. And there are several zombie movies rumored to be in the works (which I can't remember right now because it's late and I am percolating but they were in Entertainment Weekly, if you'd like to check for yourself. Yes. I read Entertainment Weekly. You would too if you had this big a crush on Lisa Schwarzbaum).

Anyway. Something neat-o may or may not be going on here. All these bloodless copies, just sort of wandering around... lusting for replication, craving originary flesh, destructive in their longing. It's kinda intriguing, in a percolating sort of way. I hesitate to start seriously thinking about this project for a few reasons:
1) I am supposed to be writing something else with dear Jason. It is my foray into poli-comm--a consideration of Clintonian globalization and rhetorical tectonics, and he will murder me if I get any more distracted.
2) It would mean that I would be studying something that I love, and that makes me nervous. Sometimes, when I make what I love into work, it starts to suck. And what would I do without my "Dawn of the Dead" writer's block fallback?
3) Zombies are the term a la mode. And fads go fast.
4) There would be more talking about zombies, and I might lose friends.

On the other hand, there are also some reasons that this might be a good idea:
1) Dude. They're everywhere.
2) I mean, they might even be right BEHIND YOU.
3) Sorry. Settle down.
4) The bloodless copy, mythologized and pop culturized, rapidly replicating through book, movie, and website? Producing and living off of fear-of-fear/comedy-of-fear/fear-as-comedy/comedy-as-fear... It's almost like a virus, mutating and mutable and addictive... Um. I seem to recall some one or other talking about links between the fascination, the product, and the viral.

Quote of the Day

"Tragic heroes always moan when the gods take an interest in them, but it's the people the gods ignore who get the really tough deals" (Terry Pratchett Mort 5).

If you feel your goat being gotten

Dogs of Snow

Dear weather.com,

Well-played, friend. I may or may not have thrown down the gauntlet to you yesterday. And, in response, you may or may not have taken that gauntlet up. With a vengeance. Now, we are being told to expect 6-10 inches of accumulation today.

Just one quick note, weather.com: it's March. You know... March--the beginning of spring, the blooming of brave flowers, the easing of temperatures, the gorgeous promise of sun-kissed summer days and mild, long summer dusks? I mean, there's no judgment here or anything. Just trying to help you out. Help me help you, weather.com. Help me help you.

Tell you what. I'll make you a deal... If you see fit to call off your dogs of snow, I promise I will be much less flippant in my future addresses to you. Let's be friends again, weather.com. Friends who listen to "Endless Love" in the dark and don't send snowy smackdowns to each other just because we can.

Sincerely,
james

Ominous weather reports

Lurk around every page on the web. I am sitting at home, watching "Pride and Prejudice," eating Oreos, recovering from whatever long-lasting mystery illness this is that I have, and thinking about snow in MARCH.

I was talking to a friend earlier today, who said that he is amused by my choice to blame weather.com for the meteorological ills visited upon this city. And, I'll admit, it is maybe a strange way to direct my anger. I mean, I went to Ash Wednesday service and got all ashed up (because I do so love that service--it is a good moment in the Christian calendar, filled with redemption and grace and earthiness and re-memory). I sit (because I like the Buddhist idea of practicing things--practicing debate by doing debate, practicing sweeping by doing sweeping, practicing forgiveness by doing forgiveness, practicing practice by doing practice). I talk to the Goddess (because I think she is angry at being almost-erased, and I think she answers many questions the traditional christian church would otherwise like to ignore).

Along those same lines, I blame weather.com for the weather. If we are talking post-structuralist physics here (and, really people, when it comes to weather, we are), I might as well look to the web-site as the site-of-invention. They say we'll have snow, and maybe we will. They say the groundhog saw his shadow, and maybe he did. They say spring is a distant, forgotten future, and perhaps it is. But here's the thing--we buy it. We grant them the burden of proof... and they are more than willing to carry it. So, along with all the neat-o graphics and the various color-coded cloud schemes and the Local Alerts for Bayside, we grant them the power to shape our tomorrow morning. And, to me, that's faith.

So here's to you, weather.com. Bring it.