let the dead, die. i want to live!

i mean, i've only read one of his books, but given that it stands out as one of my favorites of all time and THAT because of how he could turn something so dry (history) into something so intense with his epic tone and sharp insight, i can't believe it's taken me so long to buy his book, Bench Press, about his personal experiences and insights into the world of body building. i'm very excited to read this book, if just to see if he can pull me in under his cloak again, to his world of simple, bared truths and haunting wisdom. of course, i do expect this to be a much different world than that of the horrors of colonialization in africa - the subject of his exterminate all the brutes. as a historian he delves into the origins of weight lifting and the evolving perceptions of the sport/lifestyle. from the back cover i read that his personal journey into this realm began with his encounter with a man particularly passionate about body building. and, as is natural when meeting someone that is particularly passionate about something, sven lindqvist's presuppositions about weightlifting were uprooted, from being that it was a selfish, arrogant sport to, who knows? that's why i'll read the book. but lindqvist mentions on the cover that as his strength began to mount, he began to dream intensely and regained old, buried memories. what else happened to him. how's he going to present this. i can't wait to hear his insights and compare them to mine, and as much, i can't wait to again be led through a book by his tone. i worry that it won't match the one on colonialization. i worry mostly because he was so good in exterminate all the butes because he didn't embellish anything at all. he simply recorded the facts and the publications. i've never read anything that would make me want to say that the book 'bared the truth' more than this book. damnit, i hate writing sometimes. blah. but so, colonialization was engrossing in and of itself, and he let it be. the history of weight-lifting? will it prove to have been interesting, or this time will he interject himself some more. i'm waiting.

subjects are never as interesting as people. it's great when two interesting ones run together. it's exciting.

....

a cigarette, outside, at night. a pretty boring, thoughtless night. then, some thought. it started with the normal humdrum about never having any ideas as a youngster about what i would be around this time of my life. hmm, that absense of idea kind of proving itself true perhaps? i am somewhat nothing. and then a thought; an old, recurring one, about me being satisfied had i just been born ages ago and just grown up on a farm, tended said farm, and taught my kids to tend said farm. you know, the kids of the first civilizations probably didn't read histories about browse and pick food societies and wish that they could have grown up suchly. but here i am, this modern day, wishing for an historical past, if you can forgive the redundancy.

so what's the difference in this modern day? i find i have wishes that are not particularly my own. i feel i've been bred to disire greatness. as if a human living and creating life is no longer to be deemed great. i'm to dream of being the star quarterback or the juxtaposing riddlest. a romantic at heart and a bear in the business realm. my society seems to say to be these things. is it for the survival of the human race, or the survival of my particular society that i'm given these dreams to strive for?

my best understanding of why civilizations were first formed was for the protection of the seeds which those joining the civilization had sewn. no sense planting a farm to have it harvested by a ragged group of marauders. not that i'm blaming the marauders for doing so, i just feel that once i've put forth the effort to grow food, i should own it. human civilization 101.

eventually, though, the maruaders banged their bullish heads against horse-mounted steel, and were forced to fall in stride, or stirrup, if you will forgive me. and now, we've jumped, though a relatively slow jump, to A.P. human civilizations. there then became many groups of farmers and herders. it could have ended there, couldn't have it? we'd taken a step closer to demanding life, and it was a large one. but, oh, what power we'd created, we'd contrived.

sure, things were well, but hmm, couldn't they be even a bit better? what stopped us from just surviving, when we could rule our lives as we'd previously been ruled by the thunder and the sun? we learned of power and ruthlessness from nature herself. she'd struck us down and we'd now do upon ourselves the same.

but lightening strikes fiercefully in order to return a balance to the clouds. why then, did humans strike? did farming, hence hoarding and coveting, create an imbalance? are we doomed if so, and if lightening strikes all the more thunderously from the greater the imbalance, will we stike down ourselves to extinction through thousands of years of mounting power as if like dark, gathering clouds?

but just dark thoughts on this black night spent reclining in front of a tv and snapping at a keyboard. just a dreary, dreamful aside, most likely the result of a lack of right dreaming as a child, or rather, more rationally, from a few drinks and a lack of distraction. or are my rationalizations daring a little too far and coming too wryfully close to the truth, as if in satanic jest?

ah, the questions mount, eh, fair listener?

mm, but how fair are you? have you become one that has decided that you will conform your dreams to society or that society should conform to your dreams? that is my main thought this evening. it may be two thoughts; it may be too philosophical or perhaps humdrum for you at the moment. but at my moment, where i'm back out to relight another time, i'm still quite comfortable in the darkness, although i now realize that's what it is. creature of habit i suppose. stay out in the cold for too many eons, you just might become cold-blooded. the dinosaurs did.

babe britney's hubby seen with ex-girlfriend!

never feeling inspired to load up on my dial-up connection at home and being lucky to get 10 minute customer-less stretches, as opposed to a year ago hour long ones, i just never end up writing anything and when i do, it's in such a rush (or, ironically - or is it expectedly - like right now, i get interrupted in the middle of sentences) that i can't have any fun while writing. so it's fallen out of favor.

but anyway, i have grand theft auto san andreas, but i only play it when anthony comes over. it's common for us to make a 6 hour day out of it. so here's a taste of how variable and unpredictable the game is.

i come out of an ammunation one day and start jogging up a hill in san fiero (san francisco) to grab a car when i hear all kinds of explosions behind me. i figured a cop had gotten into a shoot-out with some gang member and that the gunfire must have blown up a car and started a chain-reaction of other cars blowing up. but when i raced down to get into the action, there sat the charred wreckage of an airplane in the middle of the street.

you'll notice airplanes flying around above you fairly often, but this was my first experience with one crashing down into the street while i was around. well, i think i saw this happen at least once more before the event i'm about to relay took place.

so, anthony's on a mission on a large cargo boat and just slips by what we thought was the final opposition with almost no health left. to our dismay, our character is told to go to the front of the boat where (we're shown a cut-scene) some ninja swinging around a samurai sword is awaiting our challenge. anthony looks around for some health or armor pickups, but none are found. so he climbs these crates - back to where he started - and before he climbs down the other side, he looks up and we can see a red marker over the samurai-guy up in the cab? of the ship. all of the sudden, from out of the dark starry sky, a giant airplane barrels down and explodes directly into the mission's final boss, killing him and earning us mission-ending rewards. anthony and i told ourselves that that was definitely not supposed to happen and that the plane crashing into the guy was just rediculously dumb-luck coincidence, but i could hardly actually believe that. so i went to gamefaqs.com and looked up the mission to see if there was anything about a plane crash killing some boss. here's what i found:

    They will tell you to go kill Snakehead on the bridge.  Make your way back
to and up the hole you came down, and head over the boxes you haven't been
over yet.  There are a
few guys left - one in the doorway to the bridge area, and two more in the
stairwell.  When you reach the bridge, Snakehead tosses you a sword.  Lock
on with L1, and hit Circle.  If your muscles are still hign, you should
take him out with a swing or two.  Once he's out of the way, make your way
back to the hole in the deck, and head towards the refugees standing
near the railing.  They will lower all of you into boats, and this mission
is done. (LINK)

so, ...