Dream Sequence

Why Can't I Have Normal Problems

2006-10-05T12:37:00.000-07:00

For the last couple of days, I have been unable to access my webpage or check my dream-sequence email. I can access every other webpage but mine. Everyone else can access mine. The webhost says I should check with my ISP, who says there's nothing wrong, I need to talk to my webhost.

Realistically, the email was more of an issue than the webpage, since I've already read most of the stuff I've written. In a worst case scenario, I could always hire someone to add to my webpage and then have them send me screen shots.

Finally, it turns out, the dream-sequence.net webpage is hosted in Hong Kong and there have been routing problems recently between Austrlia and Hong Kong. My web host, ICDsoft, migrated my page to a US server, and after the DNS caught up, my problem was solved.

Of course, that's not my only problem. I also have a bulge. Keep your mind out of the gutter. It's coming out of my belly button, like something from an alien movie. I used to have an innie, now I have an outie? What's up with that?

So off I go to the doctor, thinking that I've swallowed someone's finger or something. It turns out I have an umbilical hernia, and it's growing. What does that mean? More surgury. It's now large enough that when I wear a shirt, it sticks out like I have an extra nipple. I'm thinking I might need to start cutting holes in my shirts soon, or wearing maternity clothes or something. Anyway, the last time I was on a surgical waiting list, I waited two and a half years. That was for some pretty serious back surgery. This time, who knows? What if it keeps growing? What if people start playing ring toss on my tummy, or hanging their hats there when they walk into the house? What if some people don't think it's my tummy at all, but something else entirely? What if it really is an alien?

All I know is, with all this medical and computer stuff going on, my life is at least interesting...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Silent Miracles

2006-10-02T11:50:00.000-07:00

I don't necessarily believe in miracles, at least not in the classic sense of the term. I've never been accosted by a burning bush, the red sea has never parted for me, and when I take the role of David, Goliath usually kicks my ass. I won't say I haven't had my share of good luck in this lifetime, but I can't attribute much of it to miracles.

Last January, one of our friends gave dana and me a car. An old car, to be sure, but a car nonetheless. Since my driving experience is fairly limited, this was a great boon. Our current car was a manual, and I don't drive manual. This was an automatic. Thus when dana went into the hospital for surgery and she couldn't drive for six weeks, I was able to take up the slack. Driving on the left side of the street is still really odd, but I got used to it and the new car (I use the term loosely, both of the cars are old enough to vote) seemed a lot more powerful.

Yesterday, we took the car in for an overhaul, just to have it checked it, before we took a long drive up to the north side of the island. The list of what was wrong with it was was a third of a page long. The car was deemed unsafe, and had been unsafe for some time. We'd driven around in that car for two months. A car with failing brakes and steering, among other things. The mechanic who worked on it said it was a death trap and wasn't drivable, fixable or resellable. When he learned we'd been driving it around for two months, he said we were extremely lucky. He also said, it wouldn't have made it up to the trip north.

My initial impulse was to be depressed. I was stranded again, unless I sat down and learned to drive a manual (which after my back surgery, might be possible, now that I'm healed). But aside from that, we had a car when we needed it, for as long as we needed it, and during that time that we drove it around, and we did use it quite a lot, somehow, the car held up. We survived. We were lucky.

Was it a miracle that brought this car into our lives just when we needed it and took it out again before we died for the convenience? I guess I'll never know.

But I will say, I feel damned lucky to be alive.

Mind Over Matter

2006-09-30T04:03:00.000-07:00

For those of you who are following the continuing adventures of the building of the weight gym, I am happy to annouce that the project is now completed. I am so completely exhausted, the idea of lifting weights is about as appealing as doing a tax return, or having sex with a porcupine, two evils I'd hate to have to choose between.

I have often heard say, usually by women, that men don't read directions. This is possibly because men build more things like this than women do, and they realize that a good percentage of the time the instructions are completely wrong. This is because the instructions are written by OTHER men, sitting at their desks, laughing at the poor bozos who have to put stuff together after they've finished playing with our heads.

"I have a great idea. Let's put in an extra piece into the box, and not mention it anywhere in the instructions. We can list it, but not say where it goes. We can call it something cool like the universal pin configuration module. People will go nuts!"

I'm half convinced that the same people who write these instructions, are the people who program viruses. They want us to suffer because they're stuck with a crappy job--which isn't at all our fault.

The other explanation for the poor directions is that they are translated from the original language into English by retarded adolescant parrots who don't speak either language. To this I say bullshit. They speak the language, they just have something against me. Me personally. They wrote these instructions, misdrew these pictures, just to get at me. It's probably some kind of karma thing, paying me back for the evil I've done in my life (of which there was plenty).

So ladies, if you want to know why men don't follow the directions, build more furniture and you'll understand.

As for me and working out, should I survive this ordeal (that is not a certain circumstance yet), I may one day feel strong enough to actually try my new weight gym.

East Meets West

2006-09-29T11:26:00.000-07:00

You've taken a wrong turn robo-dude...this is a fantasy story

To pose or not to pose...

2006-09-29T05:51:00.000-07:00

that is the question. Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of poser's bugs while allowing my writing career to languish, or delve into a new writing project and leave the graphics programs to the artists...and face it, I am no artist.

Is creating an image in poser art? If not, what is it? I'm working with images and textures created by others, putting them together and altering them. Load a backdrop, place a figure against it. Pose the figure. Load another figure and scale it. Pose it differently, perhaps apply a different texture. Use a texture set to make another figure into a copper statue. Make sure everything is posed, then light the scene. Sometimes I try ten or fifteen different light combinations, but again, most of these are predone by people who know what they are doing. I'm just picking the one that looks best. I'm changing the camera angle too. Zooming in and back, showing different bits... is it art? It's not science. Is making a collage art? Am I wasting my time? What of my writing career?

See, Poser is fun for me. I'm just playing around. Sometimes it's frustrating too, but it's frustrating fun. Writing is work. I have things I really NEED to work on. And if it was just writing, I would be fine, but then there's rewriting (and rewriting and rewriting, ad naseum), then editing, which might mean more rewriting. Then polishing. Then sending it off. There's dealing with cover artists (not always a great experience), and then promoting. Okay, I like talking about myself, but there is a limit and I can't have that. No limit I set would be good enough to promote my work.

I am not even trying to be professional or promote my poser work, though I have some ideas in the back of my head of some things I can do with it that might eventually lead to an income, but that aside, what am I really doing? Is it art? Is it a waste of time? Should I be doing other things?

To pose or not to pose, that is the question. It'll take a greater mind than mine to answer it.

Father and Son Outing

2006-09-28T10:43:00.000-07:00

But da...if yumuns never existed, where did all these statues come from?

Gazi Chachkas

2006-09-27T10:38:00.000-07:00

Chachkas: You're a pain in the neck.
Gazi: If you'd slow down, I wouldn't havta use my claws.
Chachkas: You COULD fly.
Gazi: Big, fat, hairy deal. Flyin' is easy.
Chachkas: You shouldn't take flying for granted. Some of us don't have wings.
Gazi: And some of us don't have massive jaws that can grind bone to dust.
Chachkas: That's what I mean. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. I'm a brave hunter, a vicious killer, a fearsome predator, and you...
Gazi: Yes? Yes?
Chachkas: You're a pain in the neck!

Art for the Graphically Impaired

2006-09-26T22:14:00.000-07:00

Ever play with colorforms? Those in my age group might well remember them, even though I haven't seen them in years. Essentially, you have a background upon which you place down flat, plastic figures that fit onto it, creating a scene. Update this about a thousand times, put it on a computer, make it 3D and you have poser, a program with enough free and inexpensive figures available that you don't have to make them yourself, you only have to add them to your scene and pose them.

The preceding paragraph is both true and misleading for several reasons. First, though you can plunk down figures, making them look natural is a lot harder. The real challenges with poser are image composition, lighting, camera angles, and the quality of your posing. Sure anyone can plunk down an image or two (especially me) and call it art, but there IS an art to poser, as those who are better than me and more familiar with the program can tell you. I've seen poser art and poser use. They are NOT the same thing.

That disclaimer aside, I've submerged myself in 3D graphic programs. I don't know how or why, but it happened. I guess it started when I found out that Poser 5.0 was available for free from a site called Content Paradise. While it's no longer free, it's still cheap, if I'm not mistaken. On the other hand, Daz3D has it's own simple 3D posing program called Daz Studio. It's free, the content pack is free and there is plenty of free stuff to keep you playing for ages.

Of course, I never do anything the easy way. I joined both sites, Daz3D and Content Paradise and as such, got a lot more graphics. In fact, I've spent over $200 US this week on stuff for the programs. By the way, I also downloaded Bryce 5.5 for free, when it was offered on Daz3D, a 3D program more geared toward scenary and background creation.

So far, my poser attempts have been modest, but I like some of the results. The picture at the top of this column is one of them. I included the lighting that I like best and the one that dana likes best, just because I can. It shows how much different proper lighting can make on a scene.

In the meantime, I'm downloading a tarantula and centipede graphic from Content Paradise. You never know when you'll need a bug...at least I don't.

So there you have it. If you don't see me posting as much, it's because I'm buried in graphics. Wish me luck!

The Wretched Human Sweat Ball

2006-09-25T04:24:00.000-07:00

In the next day or so, a new weight gym will be arriving. It was on sale at Paul's Warehouse, and it is something my stepson Lachlan has been asking for for a while now. As I need to get into shape too (silly term, actually...I'm in a shape...I'm round), it seemed that buying it was the thing to do. The question now becomes, "where do I put it?"

Logically it should be in the house. Keeping it at Paul's Warehouse doesn't do me much good. Nor will keeping it in the garage we don't have. But recently my stepson Callum has moved out, and as his room is now vacant vacant, it has become a delightful place to build a small gym. Please note, vacant does not mean empty.

You know how on television, when some kid dissappears and the parents leave their bedrooom just the way it was until their kids come home? How come those rooms are always neat and tidy. Callum's room looks like photos I've seen of World War 2. Scary. But it had to be cleaned out.

Actually, dana did much of that already, getting some garbage out of there and bagging a bunch of clothes to give to charity. What was left, however, was NOT pretty. Of particular note was the vomit stain from where the dog threw up, that managed to set. Okay, it's an old, worn carpet, so out it goes. Which means removing everything from the room so the carpet can be ripped up.

There we are, me and my stepson, dissassembling the bed, moving dressers and various odds and ends of furniture, trying to figure out what some things are, and then, it comes time to rip up the carpet. We have a pry bar...somewhere. While my stepson went to look for it, I picked up the hammer and went to work with the back end. He found it the moment I finished ripping up the carpet. It's a good thing he's here to help.

So now it's rolling up the carpet, carrying it outside. Mind you it's dark in Tasmania, a symptom we suffer every night. The light sensor outside the front decides it's time to go off, while' we're carry the carpet. Lachlan says, move around a little. So I wave. I wave again. I let go of my end of the carpet and jump up and down. I do a jig. I play football. Nice to have a light sensor. Finally it goes on, I heave up my end of the carpet again, and carry it down the narrow alleyway to the back.

By now, I'm just this side of dead. I'm sweating profusely, covered in grime (mostly dust) and barely able to move. Why am I doing this? So I can get a workout machine. Unfortunately, I just remembered how much I hate working out. I feel like I've worked out already. Then it occurs to me. I don't need an exercise machine. I just need to THINK I'm getting one, and I can get into shape. Maybe tomorrow, I can think I'm getting something else. Steve, we're moving, pack up these boxes. And I will. I'll be exhausted. Then I can learn we've changed our mind and I have to unpack them. Why the heck am I spending $400 on weights? Everything has weight. I can buy the book how to pick up girls and when I pick them up, that's weight. I can carry the car into town instead of driving. Why buy weights?

Is lifting weights in a machine intrinsically better than lifting other stuff? Lachlan assures me it is. For me, I'm going to wait on lifting weights, until I've healed from getting ready for them.

Tombraider Too

2006-09-21T21:38:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I'm a huge fan of the game Tombraider in all its incarnations. Please don't confuse this with being a fan of the movies, even if I would like to bend Angelina Jolie over a table. But that's besides the point.

I have a number of games on my computer (well, decidedly more than a number, or at least a very high number) and one of them is Tomb Raider 2, an old incarnation of the game and probably my least favorite.

Last night, I opened it up randomly, just clicking around, something I do when I'm tired. I loaded my old game and realized that I had started playing this game with dana, and never finished it. We were in the middle of a game we started more than a year ago. I guess we just moved onto other things.

Have you ever tried to start a game like Tombraider in the middle? You have no idea where you are, where you're going, or what you're trying to accomplish. Fortunately, living my life has prepared me for that sort of thing, as I often have no idea where I am, where I'm going or what I'm trying to accomplish.

It seems I live life blundering around, moving from one thing to the next, without any rhyme or reason. No plan. No direction. I do thing one, then thing two, but neither seem connected in any way, as if my life were a series of sound bites that weren't at all related to either me or each other. I don't know if other people live like this, but I have to tell you, it's an odd feeling.

Of course, in my life there is relatively little chance of me being attacked by leopards in a catacomb, and I can't save the game in before I enter a hard part. Nor do I get infinite lives.

I think life needs a game save feature. You're about to start a new job you're not quite sure about, so you save your life. That's it...your'e saved. If it doesn't work, you can just go back and continue from before you took the job. If you don't do well enough on the job, or you make some mistakes, you can start over and redo it. This is exactly what life needs...at least my life. And a pause button. It needs that too.

Unfortunately, real life isn't like a game. You don't get to do over the stupid things you do, except in your mind where they never change. If you're anything like me, you go over your past with a fine tooth comb and say, wow, how could I have been that stupid. I must have been dreaming.

So, I've decided, I'm only going to play games from now on. I can save my progress, mistakes don't really matter, and eventually, if I work hard enough, I can succeed.

And on my tombstone, I'll have the words "Here lies Steve Lazarowitz....game over".

On My Last Leg

2006-09-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

I have a friend who's been walking since he's been six months old...he's exhausted! Okay it wasn't funny, but at the moment, I feel as if I've been walking that long. Now I'm not in the best shape of my life, but it's not completely my fault.

A couple of years ago I hurt my back, after which I waited two and a half years to have surgery. During that time, I couldn't walk far at all, and when I did, I spent two days recovering. As a result, I got out of shape. Today I walked at least a couple of miles, and I feel like I've crossed the Sahara barefoot. My feet are swollen, my thighs ache, and my calves are so cramped they're mooing.

There was a time when I could walk great distances without batting a toe. These days, I walk like an extra from Night of the Living Dead. It's not a pretty picture, even if it's pretty accurate.

I'm driving a lot too. Driving isn't really hard, unless you've moved from America to Australia and suddenly you're not only upside down, you're on both the wrong side of the car and the street. You have to keep telling yourself, "keep left!" If you don't, you'll end up turning into the wrong lane.

So I can't drive and I can't walk. Last time I went to the doctor, he asked me if I exercise. I said, sure. I spend all day walking from the computer to the refrigerator. I wish I was like those old yellow pages ads...let your fingers do the walking. With as much typing as I do, I'd be in shape in no time.

Getting Back Into It

2006-09-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

It's been a pretty long time since I've written as a writer. Oh, I've put out a few articles here and there. I've done a bit of editing, even addeded to a novel...but that's not what I'm talking about. Writers write, and I, for the most part, haven't been. That's one of the reasons this blog exists. To help me order my thoughts about writing as both an art form and a career, two entirely different playfields.

Writing, in and of itself, is only a small part of the job. There's also promotion, editing, proofreading, submitting and, worst of all, waiting--lots and lots of waiting. Probably the part I hate the most.

People don't realize what a tough gig writers have. I'm not complaining, mind you. I'm simply trying to psyche myself up to climb back on the bicycle after I'd fallen...off the face of a cliff. It's really really hard to mount a bicycle with broken legs.

So here I am about to throw myself back into an arena where sales and exposure mean as much as the actual act of writing. For me, it's a scary place to be, but if I want to do accomplish my goals, it's where I have to place myself.

Wish me luck, everyone, I'm going in!

Paddy's Last Ride

2006-09-18T00:23:00.000-07:00

I can still picture her, in the car, head out the window, ears flopping in the breeze. Paddy was a bitch, but she was our bitch. She was our pet dog, man's name and all. She loved us and we loved her. Okay, she loved us more when we were eating, but still....

A couple of days ago, Paddy breathed her last breath. I have never had to wait out a sick pet's passing before and it's not an experience I'm anxious to repeat. Every corner of the house reminds me of her, because I've tripped over her in all of them. Every corner where her dog hair held conventions (she used to shed enough to knit another dog), reminds me that she is not with us anymore. When I open the bedroom door in the morning, Paddy is not waiting to greet me. When I rustle my bag of potato chips, she doesn't come running. The house seems much bigger without her, and the world much smaller.

But she led a good life, Paddy did, and she was happy with us, most of the time. If we didn't take her with us when we went places, she'd sulk. She loved to ride in the car.

Two days ago, my son Lachlan and I placed her in the boot and drove her to the vet for burial. Paddy's last ride, and she wasn't even alive to enjoy it.

But there are the memories of other drives, happier times, that keep me going. And somewhere, in some other time/space, Paddy isn't dead, or maybe isn't even a dog. Maybe she's a human and I'm her dog, in a parallel universe that bears no further speculation. Perhaps if she were human, she'd still be a bitch, but she'd still be our bitch, somehow...at least that's how I like to think of her.

I won't write about Paddy again for a long time, but I leave her with this parting words.

I hope the afterlife provides you with all the car rides your doggie heart desires.

Sick of Being Sick

2006-09-14T10:08:00.000-07:00

I'm sick. My wife is sick. My dog is sick and spending the night at the vets. I'm so sick of being sick, I'm sick.

So I wrote an issue of Sahara Ice to cheer myself up. It won't be up for a week or two yet. In the meantime, you can read the current issue at Fallen Angel reviews at http://fallenangelreviews.com/Sahara%20Ice/SaharaIce-TheBiggestSpookOfAll.htm

If you haven't read Sahara Ice, you don't know what you're missing. Here is what some of the reviewers have to say.

This is the best column I've ever written... Steve Lazarowitz
A triumph! Not to be missed! S. Lazarowitz
An amazingly canny representation of the human psyche... S R Lazarowitz

The critics are unanimous. You will be too!

Book and Game Heaven

2006-09-11T11:45:00.000-07:00

As anyone who has read my profile already knows I enjoy reading and playing computer/video games...some of them anyway.

Today I received 2 books in the mail and an activation code for a game I bought, via email. I may have a lot of things on my mind, but at least my distractions are keeping up with me.

The books are from SFSITE ( http://www.sfsite.com ), a fantasy/sci-fi book review site I've been writing for for some time. The first book, Angelos by Robina Williams is the sequel to Jerome and the Seraph, which I quite enjoyed. I'm anxious to get into it.

Along with Angelos, I received a hardcover copy of Wolf Hunting by Jane Lindskold, the author who completed the last two Roger Zelazny novels after his untimely death--both excellent. I had met Ms. Linskold at a Worldcon, and I am happy to see her career has taken off. I'm also anxious to see how she writes on her own. Naturally, I have to review both of these books, a small price to pay, considering the price of new books these days.

Which brings me to the game, Solsuite 2006, a solitaire compliation I've played before. I could have easily gotten a "broken" copy, but the truth is, this is such a great game, and they're only charging twenty bucks for it. I like to support the companies that put out games I love, so I spent the money and I'm happy I did. A lot of people don't have a conscience about such things, but I do. Go figure.

Anyway, if you love solitaire, you have to check out Solsuite at http://www.solsuite.com . This game is well worth the money.

Blogging Again

2006-09-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

I have a love hate relationship with blogging. I love to share myself, my thoughts, my day with the world...I'd just like to do it without expending any energy. I'm not lazy, but my energy is diffused rather than focused, unless I'm writing a book, or working on some new project, in which case I'm very focused. But blogging doesn't last long enough to capture me complelely, so it becomes a task. This is the third blog I've started on different sites. They last a while and then they peter out. I'm hoping to keep this going longer.

It's spring in Tasmania, and my wife is healing from surgery, pretty much directly after I healed from my surgery. Not too much more fun than being cut open for fun and profit. I hate that my surgery had to be back surgery. I'd have prefered something cool...having a third eye installed on my forehead...getting a unicorn horn...maybe a pair of wings. I'd even have been happy having a secret compartment installed, so I could hide stuff from enemy agents in case I'm caught.

As you can see, I'm not quite sane, which is good, because A) sanity is highly overrated and B) if this world is sane (and I've seen the world), I'd rather be crazy. Just a personal preference.

Anyway, I do hope I keep up with this blog, rather than leave it and let it grow mold. There is nothing worse than a moldy blog.