zimdog's z-word series: zymurgy

a wonderful branch of applied chemistry that deals with the fermentation process (as used in wine-making and brewing)


In comparison to my first z-word entry (zyzzyva), it has been my experience that zymurgy is more often the last word in English-language dictionaries.

It has also been my experience that the product of zymurgy tastes much better than zyzzyva.

Random phone pics

The theme of this post is R.I.P. old phone. Luke (my bro-in-law) fell asleep on the beach (as most of us do). And then, along came a mini-tsunami > salt water in mee phone. Now that's what I call Bell Atlantic, yo.

After drying out for a good day, 'twould turn on, but 'twouldn't really operate in the ways a useful cell phone might, so i got numbers out of it and e-mailed the best of the best pictures I'd taken with it during its operational dayz. I wouldn't say it was the best camera in the world, but every once in a while, a camera phone'll do just fine.


Lightfall


Murph Dogg

toohl

Vancouvinter

Zom!Org!!

Arno's Luck

Caputi vision

Helioecho

Key West Dennis

Lazy Dayz

Hallowed-Green

As we did last year, Emily and I Halloweened at the Fetish Factory Ball. For the occassion, I transformed into ...
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Green Man, a hallowed product of Nature who acts as liaison for the Earth in this age of technological darkness.

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Here, Green Man has gained the balance of Nature, which he wears for all to see:

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Here, Green Man harnesses free radicals to bring light to a dark room:

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On his left, a fitting sidekick: Britney Spears from the VMAs.

On his right, an unnamed galactic princess.

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His entourage:

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It is told in legend that Green Man altered a substantial segment of the human consciousness that night. Nonetheless, he was mortal. As all of Nature's offspring do, Green Man was confronted by the twilight of his existence.

These pictures testify that, confronted by Fate, Green Man looked into its gaze and smiled--just another sojourner in this life--willing to relinquish control of his body mass so he could assume some other form of cosmic energy.

The transformation began around his mouth (where vodka-tonic had moistened his skin).

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Britney quickened the process.

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And from out of the skin of green, the zimdog was reborn into this cruel world.

holy click power, zimdog

I believe I've entered a fractal of what I once knew as reality. As I often do on October 26, 2007 (in the old spacetime), I was reading up on cat history when I double-clicked the name Driscoll (for no reason other than to see it highlighted all-at-once as a distraction from reading the article on cats). Suddenly, I had a new browser up with information about Driscoll, TX. I suppose the browser takes a guess at the context of the word and gives me some information based on that guess--be it a definition, a potential city name, etc.

In most cases, the response (driven by Answers.com) returned valid information, but not in my virgin experience. Double-clicking "Driscoll" gave me weather information for Driscoll, TX, which is wholely irrelevant to Dr. Driscoll, some scientist guy who compared the DNA of wildcats with that of domesticated cats. In later double-clix-perimentation however, I did get a valid definition for "human" and a brief description of what "Neolithic" implies.

So from now on, I dare you to double-click yourself silly all over the Internerd, cuz you never know what might pop up. It could be expected precipitations for a city you've never heard of.

PS edit- Unpon further consideration, I think it is the New York Times online that offers this research tool--and I have not, in fact, strayed from the reality I've known all this life.

zimdog's z-word series

I was doin' a little web-surfin' (Whoa, dude. Gnarley virus fast-approaching on my nine, homie!) when I learned of the word "Zemblanity" (linked from Cosmopoetica's 10.16.07 entry; use my link if you wanna know what Zemblanity means, because that's not the word I'm focused on over here at the chew toy.)



Well, it got me thinking about z-words. Having a z-name, I've always been interested in the letter "Z." I mean, I have to be interested. Most of my life I've been at the end of lists and last in lines. Only two people in C.D. East High's Class of 1997 got diplomas after me: V. Zorkic and T. Zoellner.





Oh, woe is me and all that. The point is, z-words are cool az, yo. Here's one I like because it was the final word in the dictionary at my parents' house (a.k.a. the dictionary I used all through public school):


zyzzyva [ziz-uh-vuh] - any of various South American weevils of the genus Zyzzyva, often destructive to plants.



Even Wikipedia's entry on zyzzyva mentions it being the last word in many dictionaries. Also in that entry is a link to a starfish (?) Genus Zyzzyzus, which is an even cooler word--because it sounds like a Dr. Seuss creature.




So the idea is to throw a z-word on the ol' chew toy every once in a while. This entry's z-word is zyzzyva (in case you forgot already, or in case I put you to zzzzzzzzzzz...).

Birthday day (and the day after)

It began with soul food in Harlem: - southern fried chicken (the best I've ever had) - cornbread stuffing (which I've never had before, but I now consider the best kind of stuffing) - mac & cheese - collard greens.

Then, Emily and I went to MOMA, which was cool. We saw a lot of famous stuff (Van Gogh's Starry Night, for instance). And I got to see some Magrittes.

This was one I saw at the NY MOMA:






This one I saw in August at the MOMA in San Francisco:

I like Rene Magritte because he calls it like it isn't:

Yes, Rene. That's not a pipe--and you haven't been smoking it.

Enough spoonfed art though. On to dinner, which came much later in the day--and was perfect. Yuengling's Lord Chesterfield Ale and massive pizza slices from Koronet:



Alex (the guy hiding underneath his slice of pizza) goes to Columbia, so he knew of a cozy dinner spot where we could enjoy these most delicious treats (that were most detrimental to our health).

To liven ourselves up a bit, we went hiking the next morning. Alex and his wife Alana took us pick-a-nicking at Bear Mountain north of the city.




The whole area was beautiful, and no, we didn't see any bears, which makes me wonder what's in a name? Can the name Bear Mountain really do it justice?

Personally, I feel that Nature's gems need not carry such names--for Nature's beauty by any other name ... is the distant cousin of beauty (or something).

Either that, or it's not really a pipe.

Daily Show déjà vu

The day after hanging with Jon Stewart & Co., Emily was able to score more tickets for yet another day at The Daily Show. I guess the first experience was no once-and-done miracle (as my last post may have suggested; also, my apologies to God for idolizing a receipt.)

On the way to The Daily Show for day dos, I stopped at Colbert's joint long enough to snap this crappy picture. Check out the white van. That's a whole lotta "ing."

The Daily Show and The Colbert Report are recorded very close to each other. From Colbert's studio, we made a left onto West 54th Street, and in doing so, we could already behold hints of this hideous sight two blocks down:



Emily wanted to go down one block and take a right. I ignored her pleas by getting in line for the Daily Show. Turns out we got there earlier than the day before, which means I got an even lower number than the day before.

I LIYKE!!! Does this make me a loser?

Guilty.

Building on what I'd learned the day before, I brainstormed a question for Jon Stewart. When he first comes out, he takes a few questions from the audience. Well, the second go-round, I wanted to be one of the askers--because the day before, people asked really dumb questions. (No lie ... someone asked Jon his birthday.) Therefore, it was up to me to bring an important question that Jon would respect as an artist, but also as an educated man.

So when he started taking questions, I raised my hand. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of calling on someone behind me. I don't remember her question, but it was probably a bold inquiry about his favorite color.

I wasn't worried though. Day one, not many people asked questions so I thought for sure I'd get my chance. Each time he sought a new question, I raised my hand, and each time I looked more like a pathetic loser for not getting called on. The rub-in lie in God making me sit there and listen to the other attempts at clever inquiry. Eventually, Jon Stewart grew weary of participating in "dumbass time," so he got things rolling. Thus concludes the sad story of how I didn't get to ask my question.

The show was fun that night. Day two's audience had more energy than day one's. Also, John Oliver did a hilarious correspondence report "live" from Dickensian England.

After the show, Emily and I went to the House of Brews (our usual spot after a taping of the Daily Show). Our second night there, 'twas an Oktoberfest special in effect, so we got these two magnum mugs for uber-cheap (by NYC standards) and we gave cheers for another successful day as audience members.

Quite the birthday eve.

Yes? Oh, alright, alright. I'll tell you what my question was for Jon Stewart. While other people's questions were stupid-boring, I was aiming more for stupid-humorous. Personally, I think Jon would've chuckled a bit.

Me: Yes, Jon. I was here yesterday for your interview with Ted Koppel.

Jon: Oh, okay, yes?

Me: Well, during the interview, I realized you had interviewed Ted Koppel several times before, but I was curious about something. Have you ever interviewed Ted Koppel ... on weed?

LAUGHTER ALL AROUND!!!

Me: And two quick follow-ups. What shit was Koppel smokin', and where can I score some?

MORE LAUGHTER FOLLOWED BY COPIOUS APPLAUSE!!!

Good Lord, I'm funny.