Barbelith Underground > Conversation

Oops. I wrote a novel. Two novels. I do loves me the sound of my voice. (In my defense, the 'hard' questions were compound questions!)

1. They say one of the signs of genius, actual Doogie Houser, sooperbrain genius, is being able to remember things that happened before you were 2 years old. For instance, I remember being bathed in the kitchen sink at my grandparents' house, and, very vaguely, laying in my crib with a feeling of consternation. I had those bootie pyjamas but my feet kept slipping up into the leg and I didn't like it. Now, don't be intimidated by my example, this is incredibly rare and my "genius" has not done much for me as an adult--in fact, I don't think I'm a genius at all, I think that theory is bunk. It just means that certain portions of my brain developed more quickly than normal. So, what is your earliest memory?

High fives all around, my fellow sooperbrain genius!

My earliest memory is of gazing up at my grandfather, right before he zipped me up in a bag. No, really! My parents had this baby carrier for me which zipped up to keep light out. So they'd be walking around the airport (they both worked for Pan Am, so we flew a lot for vacations) carrying me like I was a piece of carry-on luggage. (I do not recall whether or not I was ever passed through the x-ray machine.)

As for genius: intelligence isn't exactly overrated, but there is a certain amount of brains that seems to require a minimum amount of raw life experience to use properly. Many of my brilliant friends are just now figuring out how to use their smarts for good, instead of just using them to torture themselves.

2. What should Billy Corgan name his new pet snake? Feel free to cross-post your answers to his livejournal.

I can't think of a good 'funny' answer because I would want him to name it in honor of my dear departed snake. She was named Milo when I thought she was a boy and Kali when I found out she was a girl, so we've got all bases covered. (I miss muh snake

)

3. What sports or games are you good at?

I like sand volleyball--it's a sport that allows you lots of time to think about how you're going to hit the ball, so after only a couple of weeks of playing regularly you start looking like you really know what you're doing. I'm okay at chess. I'm good at pool. And for a while I was beginning to think I was good at poker, but I've endeavored to disbelieve that. It's a bad, bad idea to ever think, "I'm good at gambling!"

4. What were you like as a teenager? If you ARE a teenager, what were you like five years ago? Or, fuck it, what were you like five years ago and how are you different now?

(I'm 27, for the sake of reference.) My little brother died unexpectedly in bed when I was six, and my dad died unexpectedly in bed when I was 14, and my cousin died unexpectedly in bed when I was 16, so when I was a teenager I was a fatalistic little bastard, certain that my heart was going to explode any minute, with a bitter sense of humor, and standard issue post-junior-high atrophied self-esteem. A lot of the time I actually felt pretty happy, because I had given into the fatalism to the point that sudden heart explosions seemed natural and kind of funny. Five years ago, I was in pretty much the same boat, but I wasn't enjoying it as much: I wasn't interested in applying myself 'cause I figured my heart was going to explode any minute.

Now, I've gotten enough of a clue to recognize that (1) anyone can die at any time, and (2) my dad and cousin didn't take very good care of themselves--they were very unusually young, but they didn't particularly exercise or eat properly, they smoked, they drank more than they should have. I smoke sometimes, because I was dumb enough to try it when I was a fatalist, but I eat right and exercise and try to remain within sight of 'moderation' wrt alcohol. The point is, I've taken control of that particular Sword of Damocles (with the recognition that I might be fooling myself, but lineage-wise I'm as likely to make it to 80 as kick off at 40). This has lightened up my personality considerably: my long-term goals are vague, because they are new, but I am willing to say that I will do this in two years, this in 10 years, and this when I am 50. I won't have time to do everything I want to do, but leaving everything half-finished is better than never starting.

5. Your username leads one to believe that you are an extraoridnairily well-adjusted person. Have you planned your life "well"? For instance, do you have the kind of job you wanted five years ago? Social life? If so, what advice would you give those of us who are struggling, and if not, how are you trying to change?

I've only been Perfect Tommy for, hm... about a year and a half. Previously I was doubting thomas. The theory behind the name change is this: As doubting thomas, I can see both sides of most issues, and see how everyone is right and wrong to some degree, and that any action will be partially successful and partially a failure, and how every last one of my beliefs is subject to the same entropic doubt sanding it down. This is okay for dealing with people, because you can empathize with any worldview, but it's no good for getting anything done or changing anything, because everything is a shapeless grey mass suspended in a shapeless grey void. But as Perfect Tommy, I have just discovered the secret of the universe, and I know exactly what to do. Even if five minutes ago, I had also just discovered the secret of the universe, and it was the exact opposite of what I've just discovered, and I also knew exactly what to do. Instead of grey masses of wet cotton, we've got stained glass jackhammers flying everywhere crashing into each other--the effect is the same, because in either world nothing is true, everything is permitted, but the second is dynamic and active and makes horrible horrible mistakes which it then corrects as best it can, instead of making no mistakes because nothing happens.

I suppose I do have the 'career' I wanted, in that I'm going to school to get a math degree, 'cause what I really want to do is get paid to just think really hard. I'm not sure where I'll go with it: I might teach, I might go to grad school, I might try to cash in for a few years and be an actuary. I no longer believe that career defines you 100% (though, whatever percentage it defines you is probably hefty, so I hope to choose wisely).

My social life has improved dramatically--I ascribe part of that to my personality rewrite, and part to joining my school's speech and debate team for a couple of semesters. That taught me how to fake confidence in front of people, which leads to real confidence in front of people. (There are only three secrets of public speaking: learn to organize your thoughts, which comes with speaking practice; slow down, pauses are good, you don't have to fill the air completely with words; and, you are the only one who knows your heart is beating that fast.) I still revert to shyness out of laziness a lot, but speech taught me how to keep charm and wit and logic at the ready.

I love giving advice, because I like pointing out that I'm just making things up, which is the key secret of any advice I give: make stuff up and see if it works. The best single piece of advice I could give is to do something small, tiny, infinitesimal even, and use that momentum to do the next thing. I did not go from a chain-smoking slothful EverQuest-playing depressive to arrogant self-declared mathemagician and raconteur in one go: I did something trivial, then something else trivial, then something easy, then a few easy things, and when I looked back a year later I was 1200 miles away with a stunning new wardrobe and a hot genius girlfriend. It's not so much from planning as from recognizing that inertia is a powerful force, and you are not a bad person for being trapped by it, but you can escape from it by wriggling out in small steps and by frequent application of 'fake it till you make it.'

priya narma

04:18 / 28.08.03

questions and answers....The Q's questions were interesting and i am just now marvelling at the time it must have taken to come up with these and all the others. in anycase, here's what i've got for yinz.

1. You said in your PM to me that you didn't think anyone would be interested in your answers, and that you felt in over your head returning to Barbelith after an extended leave of absense. What, precisely, are you afraid of?

I actually meant that I used to have jitters over barbelith when I first visited. I originally felt out of depth here as so many of you lovely people are so well versed, well educated and eloquent. I was not so much afraid of anything. It just seemed like so much of what was being discussed was out of my immediate circle of knowledge.

That was two years ago. In that time I have lurked here and there and I realize that I don’t need to be a shrinking violet. I am a rather shy person IRL and I have been working on that as of late. I figure I might as well come out of my shell here on barbelith in an effort to remain consistent with my actions IRL.

2. Write an outline for a war movie that would result in an extremely unusual movie. Don't be bizaare or flippant, this is a serious question. You have no control over casting or anything, you're just the writer. Make me a pitch.

I am not sure how to do an outline for a film. But this is the story I want to tell:

This is a Vietnam war story coupled with a Khmer rouge story. It does not take place during either war but rather in the early 90’s. there is a u.s. military group that specializes in the search, retrieval and repatriation of soldiers that were KIA in any war that the united states had a part in. they have worked in Europe, south America, new guinea and southeast asia. in this film we have a 21 year old guy from nowhere, usa who joins the army to be a photographer. This guy has never been anywhere in his life and only joined the military to get out of the small town he lives in. after training his first duty station is with the group that I mentioned above.

Here are a few scenes that I have in my head (keep in mind that I am in no way a writer so this may all sound disjointed and boring):

First mission – entry into southeast asia via bangkock Thailand. The photographer is thrust into a world where money can buy you anything and everything and nothing seems off limits.
Vietnam – camp site in the middle of the jungle. There is a village nearby that supplies workers for the digs and surveys. There is the constant shadow of Vietnamese military there…the Americans are escorted everywhere, never allowed to get too out of hand. One night a generator is stolen from the military campsite. The photographer awakens to the sound of gunfire. The Vietnamese military has found the thief and executed him right there next to the camp.
Vietnamese jungle, site of the dig – bones are found and the site is identified as the area where a certain pilot crashed during the war. The photographer has to photograph the bone fragments. They are small. he holds the fragments in his hand and cries.
Cambodia – campsite near an area where the khmer rouge are active. A watch tower built of bamboo is visible over the hill…the photographer spends hours watching the gun toting Cambodian.
Cambodia – sitting on a small hill, drinking Cambodian beer, watching as bombs are being dropped in the distance. The khmer rouge are fighting and the photographer is hanging out watching the fireworks. This scene is surreal.
Cambodia - in a helicopter heading to a dig site…the khmer rouge fire at the helicopter. A bullet pierces the metal 6 inches from where the photographer is sitting.

This is already way too long for an outline…but this is it. This is the movie I want to make. I am not sure if I did a good job making it sound like a war movie or not. all I know is that the story focuses on one person who is forced to relive the wars in Vietnam and cambodia by having to revisit scenes of death and having to clean up the mess with his bare hands. In a lot of ways this is an anti war story. It would show just how traumatic it is to have to pick up the pieces so long after the fact…how the land reluctantly gives up the dead, and how mission after mission of this sort can result in an almost post traumatic stress disorder due a war that ended before the photographer had even been born.

And if you are wondering…this story is semi-biographical.

3. Have you ever seen something really horrible take place firsthand? If yes, are you comfortable telling us about it? If yes, please, do so.

I have thankfully never had to witness anything horrible or horrific. i realize this may sound like a cop out but i truly have never witnessed anything remotely horrible first hand. sorry.

4. I have a fishbowl full of stones--like, one of those round goldfish bowls. I got it for some purpose, but now I have no idea what it was. My house is full of junk like that. Do you have a lot of clutter of neat/interesting/purposeless objects in your home? If so, tell us about some of them. If not, why not?

My house is stuffed to the gills with clutter. I can’t seem to throw anything away. I could go room by room naming off the various things that fill my space that some people might find interesting….in the den I have a brick from the Hanoi Hilton that my husband brought back from Vietnam and a vase of seashells and drift wood from the beaches of Hawaii…I think it’s taken me 15 years to fill that vase. In the dining room I have a lot of marble and jade things that were brought back from southeast asia. in the living room there is a 30 long aquarium full of animal bones that my husband and i found in the woods near our house (a near perfect deer skull in the center), a dead luna moth that I found in my yard, Vietnamese marble eggs and spider plants. My bedroom is filled with antique camera equipment, some of it working, most of it not. I also have a huge collection of convenience store toys and candies…I don’t know why I have them but they are fun…a rocket ship full of jaw breakers, the world’s largest gum ball, a shark stuffed animal with a belly full of shark tooth shaped gum, a monkey wearing a backpack full of banana candies…the list could go on and on…….

5. I've observed that there are two kinds of people in the world: those utterly freaked out by bugs,a nd those not. I thought I was in the second group until a katydid mysteriously appeared in my house and divebombed my head for two days--since shooing it out the window, I've learned that it's considered good luck to have a katydid in your house and I really should've hung onto him, maybe kept him in my fishbowl with a bit of screen over the top. But I's probably have starved him to death, and that hardly seems like a luck-inducing process. Anyway, which sort of person are you? Do you enjoy squashing cockroaches and so on, or do you cower at the sight of an earwig?

I absolutely love bugs. I’m not the least bit afraid of them nor do I like to squash them. I tend to like to watch them and make up pet names for them. I live in the cut as my ‘city’ friends like to say and I have an abundance of spiders (all named boris and charlotte…right now I have three charlottes spinning webs above my washing machine), centipedes (these are all called penelopede), moths, woolybears, bees, wasps and beetles. The cats love to play with them all…I just like to watch them. Last year we had locusts all summer. I guess they only hatch every 7 years or something like that. They were so noisy it sounded like a hundred people were in the woods with star trek phasers. It was a bizarre noise…really annoying but cool in a way. We collected them in a jar one day, I think we had about 70, then released them on the deck so we could sit and watch what they did. It was pretty neat.

I grew up in Hawaii where the state bug should probably be the cockroach. And I don’t mean those little palmetto bugs that most people are used to. Hawaii cockroaches are those huge, flying things that like to dive bomb you and get stuck in your hair. I love them. I hate the sound they make when they fly past your head, though.

I didn’t know that katydids bring good luck to a house. Back home geckos are the luck bringers. They come out every evening at sunset and sit high in the corners of the rooms and make kissing noises at people. as a child I had a pet parakeet. She didn’t whistle or talk or anything like that but she did make gecko noises.

Let's not argue