Author: ChrisKnight

So, I’m sitting here in Atlanta. We’re at DragonCon, and are supremely happy to be out of Tampa for the weekend. (Well, Nan and I are. Mel is in limbo at the momemt.) Nan is in the shower, and Mel and I are watching the Weather Channel to see how bad of a beating Florida is taking from hurricane Frances. Up pops a commercial for a new commerative coin. It is made in tribute to the World Trade Center and the as of yet unbuilt Freedom Tower. One of the ‘features’ of this coin is that it was made from silver recovered from a vault in the trade center. The world trade center has been a favorite target of terrorists because it was a huge symbol of the economic power that the US has wielded over other countries. The target is hit, thousands die, and silver recovered (probably from one of the very banks used to fincancially force the will of the US on other countries) and it is used for a collector’s coin.

I can’t imagine a coin more bathed in blood than this one. I wonder if they are only making 30 pieces of this particular silver?

ESP has many meanings. The two most scientific descriptions of this would be:
“Something of which a Human can percieve but is not detectable with the ‘Five Senses’.”
Or, the expanded version “Something of which a Human can percieve but is not detectable with modern scientific apparatus.” When ESP appears in television or books, it is often accompanied with the trappings of mysticism. I suppose that is only natural, for as Aurther C Clark said, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” The truth is that we just haven’t learned the mechanism, and therefore we can’t devise equipment to detect the presense of such activity.

For me, ESP means doing something incredible to impress dates. 🙂

From 1994 to 1995 I lived in a second floor apartment in a converted victorian in San Francisco. For a few months there was a guy living below me named Trevor. Trevor liked to listen to very loud music. So loud that when my room mate Robin would go down and kick his door Trevor wouldn’t even hear it. Trevor’s ears were for shit. His mind, on the other hand, could hear whispers.

One night the music was loud and I was tired. I started to think about how if the music didn’t quiet down soon I was going to have to go down there, and I wasn’t going to kick on the door. Silence. The music was turned off. I’m sure I dnd’t even think about it that first time. But then, every time I would find myself thinking about my threshold before I was going to go down there the music would silence. It never failed, either to work or to impress dates.

I never did ask Trevor about the timing of his turning off his music. It was never at the same time, but it was always when I thought about my annoyance. I just kind of took the situation for granted. Silly me.

boiled in lead – no passenger lyrics
From the album songs from the gypsy

Walkin’ down an empty street in a city I don’t know
Whistlin something catchy as I make my way through snow.
Ain’t got no gloves so I keep my hands balled up in fists;
I’m tryin’ not to think how it all came down to this.
I been searching for a sparrow in a city full of wrens
I been asking for the cost so I can make amends
I been waiting for the questions so my answers will make sense
I been looking for the way home but the snow is much too dense.
They said “Why are you here?” I said, “I’m doin’ time
Cause I’m willing to break laws but I won’t commit no crime.”
If there’s more to making choices than luck and happenstance,
I hope I do it right next time I get the chance.
This city seems so cold, and it isn’t just the wind.
I would be easy to say, “I’m here because I sinned.”
I’m here because someday someone will need a ride
And I’ll throw away my drink and say, “The coach awaits outside.”

Listening to this album on a loop day after day on the way to and from work built me up for the move to Tampa. I wonder if it works in reverse?