Ordinary Beauty

There was a time when the lure of video gaming paid my rent. I managed one of the first large video game arcades in the world–a place of 24/7 video-game consumption.
This was back in the day–when a portable computer weighed 26 pounds and the processor was 8 MHz, so even the hottest machines were nothing by today’s norms.

We had juice with the local video game vendor, and always were the first to have the new games at our arcade. The newest games, the most games, and we were open day and night, serving inexpensive food and caffeine and sugar.

Myself, I was only ever moderately lured into the game vortex. But I watched as the more serious players plunked their quarters for hours, avoiding homework and homelife, while they analyzed and memorized the workings of the games, until they could “beat” them. I rather marveled at this, and generally respected it.

Gaming has sure changed since then. Arcade games are so much more sophisticated in their replication of real life. And of course, all this has moved into our homes. The Internet has added the possiblity of playing against other people all around the world, bringing together people who otherwise would never engage. The sociologist in me was intrigued to watch my nephew spend his vacation time and money on a face-to-face meet-up of an array of gamers who’d become friends through their online gaming, and who decided to get together in the flesh for the first time.
I have a special interest in watching my friend, Rolf Getty, catalyze an entirely new gaming twist. The early promos say: “Virtual pilots from around the world will have the opportunity to compete to win a spot on a TV reality show code-named ‘American Topgun Challenge.’”

But what it boils down to is, gamers of all ages and shapes, all around the globe will be competing weekly in a virtual world of fighter pilot missions, with the ultimate cream of them rising to the sky, where their joysticks will command big-ass fighter planes.

Contrary to the average game these days, the competition and the gaming in all this is about excellence, rather than mayhem and misogyny. Rolf’s initial inspirations for this entire project go back to the accomplishments of Dale “Snort” Snodgrass.

Once a world-class surfer and all-American swimmer, he went on to become one of the most accomplished U.S. Navy fighter pilots of the late 20th century. Sure, at its core, being a fighter pilot is about destruction. But there is a momunmental beauty in it, given the degree of skill and human excellance that any such pilot must have to succeed. Uh, to stay alive, actually.

So, I am interested to watch how this all rolls out. Rolf and Co. have a reality television show in the works, and weekly mission downloads for the gamers to master, and generally a pursuit of excellence in it all. Of course there’ll be hype to it, that’s how such things come about these days, but who knows, there really could come to be some sweet 8-year-old girl rise up through the flock of gamers, to soar with the likes of Snort.

My dead parents visit me in my dreams all the time. It’s nice, really. Odd, but nice to see them, nice to be with them.

It is odd. Typically, we are doing something ordinary together, like cleaning house or working on some other project. (Last night, we were cleaning up some old furniture in the house that someone was coming to buy.) And it’s present tense, something happening today. And there they are, mom and dad, chatting with each other and with me, and so on.

Usually, at some point I realize, they’re dead. Sometimes I even say to them, “But you’re dead.”

This has been going on ever since mom died. That was ten years ago. She’d come and be in my dreams, and dad would be there and everything would be going along like it used to when she was alive. Now that dad has died, too, it all just keeps going along as it has for fifty years–me, mom, dad–just doing life.

I like that they are in my dreams so much. It is comforting, and every once in awhile they transmit some “lesson”. However, most of the time it’s just normal occurance kind of stuff, and it is soothing to have them, and, especially on dad’s part, I feel like they are still looking after me.

A big thing that I’ve learned about death is that no-thing, no one is ever completely gone. I think I like that.

I am a geology whore. I love when a city is so obviously constructed from the materials of its environs.

I am waiting for Clark Kent to emerge from this building.

And this is where the Bad Guys get their just rewards.

Built of compressed dead sea creatures.

A bright life for the gentle set.

Providing the practical and less glamourous parts of life.

And when the systems and industries start to fail …

Just back from my first trip to St. Louis. The days were filled with fortuitious moments, including luck with the weather and random intersections with people and places. I had a great time. Met nice people, including my future in-laws. Purtin-near filled a gig with photographs.

St. Louis is VERY different from Seattle, and very different from anywhere I’ve been before. I’m always awed at how different one place can be from another. I mean, we’re all humans creating our little civilizations … what makes them so different? My friend Mary can put some answers on that, what with her geographic anthropology and all. Big clue in St. Louis — all the red brick (which is what is likely under this coat of blue paint, eh?)