Monthly Archives: October 2011

The Truth About Gourdians

Gourdians are an earthy and generally shameless lot.

I’ve been absorbing (Gourdians don’t read, we absorb), with great interest, this recent bipedal hand wringing over the perceived violent and disgusting end that befalls some Gourdians. “Woe the lot of the poor Pumpkin Person,” they wail, “How awful to suffer the carving knife!” Well, I want to set the record straight; you couldn’t be more wrong. Here’s the deal.

The highest honor that can befall a Gourdian is to enter the proud ranks of The Jack. Few are chosen, but they are the finest of our race. The most unfortunate of Gourdians have only the ignoble future of rotting in cold, open fields: forgotten, ignored, made as mere mulch.

Those of us with more mathematical bent can enter the Brotherhood of Pi; and these are many, some canned, some fresh. Consumption by bipeds is a glorious end; certainly preferable to consumption by quads (consumption by hexes, or worse, is almost as bad as rotting). Certain of our citizens belong to other consumption sects: the Breads, the Cakes or the Cookies. Truly, any fodder status at least fulfills some useful station in life.

But to become a Jack is the ultimate goal of any Gourdian. Those few who make the grade and are selected go on to become the revered of our nation. Each selected by a biped who stooped down to claim one of us for their own. Each transformed into a unique magic creature to guard the bipedal demesnes. It is the highest calling of any Gourdian.

Gourdians Gather!

I’d also like to say a few words about, so called, Pumpkin Porn.

Here, too, the bipedal view may miss the mark when it comes to Gourdians. Remember that we’re born under open skies and live our lives naked under those same skies. For us, when you’re talking about the birds and bees, this is literally the case.

And if there’s one thing you can say about Gourdians, we’re an earthy species. We have no real concept of personal space or privacy; there’s just too many of us sucking on one vine (if you catch my drift).

So remember, for good luck, Carve a Jack! And kiss a Gourdian!


BB #1

Brain  Bubbles. If the name’s not immediately fully descriptive (especially when combined with previous post about seeking a new voice), I’ll explain another time. I’ve already written too much saying that much.

This is not particularly reflective of anything in particular; just ruminations about then and now.

More reflective of peculiar than particular!

Continue reading


Radio Silence

It may or may not be obvious there’s been a bit of radio silence recently. I find myself… stymied, and it has muted my muse. Part of it comes from looking around and being humbled by the amazing quality work given to the internet by so many. The interweb is a landscape of both common clay and veins of riches. I feel humbled by the task of contributing anything of worth.

I’m also stymied by the recognition that a large part of my repetoire—explaining things—is moot. Sites such as Wikipedia have amazing catalogs of information including great explanations (you can usually expect great explanations on Wikipedia). Special focus sites such as TV Tropes offer high-resolution catalogs of specific areas of knowledge. Much of my writing—going back decades—involves explaining things: BAT files, software applications, number bases, C programming. (I was one of those geeky guys who was drawing fortress plans and schematic diagrams since before high school. Diagrams and tech docs are an old friend.)

But it’s done so well at those major sites that I’m not sure I can add much. If nothing else, those sites have high visibility; I’m over here in left field. If I think I can write a better explanation than found at Wikipedia, then I should join and submit my work there. What I can do here, then, is explain things that are (a) somehow not Wiki-appropriate and (b) worth reading anyway.  Seems like a tough assignment. It suggests the content must be somehow optional. maybe specious, or even frivolous.

So I’ve been stymied; searching for a new approach.

And to tell the truth, I kinda haven’t been in the mood lately. The joy quotient has been unusually low on the real-time side: no joy in Mudville LLC, no Yin to my Yang, no fun in the sun. The Perceptual Annual Odometer clicked recently; no doubt a contributing factor. (I know it’s a little opaque. The blog is supposed to be about ideas, not my life. Bear with me for some murky lamenting.)

The outside stories, and the inside dreams, are still and always escape and solace. But the inside stories, the necessary new ones, have been elusive. And in being necessary they strengthen the stymie; they become duty. When play grows to duty it can be a lifetime career, hobby, obsession or burden. In all cases, it requires commitment.

There’s an old joke about the guy hitting his head with a hammer. When asked why he was doing such a painful thing, his reply was that it felt so good when he stopped. When I stopped writing… it felt good. Which suggests the writing somehow didn’t.

So let’s try this again.

When I damn well feel like it.

And have something to say.

See ya then.