People, politics, civilizations, poems, philosophies POOF! They came and went like will-o-wisps. Like Jude, he began to feel obscure. Outdated and outmoded in a society of quickly rising, fast burning stars. Throw-away beauties and throw-away politics, and throw-away philosophy. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. But, that’s never how it went, not in the world according to Thomas. Hell, not in the world according to anybody. There was never reduction. Only production, and not even by the people who promoted the whole thing. It was shipped off, shipped out. Made cheaper, Made in China ®. Leaden toys, oil spills. Produce. Produce. Produce. It wasn’t a triangle, just a line. No starting, no stopping. Then what?

Then he’d move on. POOF! Another throw-away thought, another throw-away philosophy. It isn’t quite cynicism, though, he imagined. No, the cynics just say everything sucks. And it doesn’t all suck. There’s just no changing anything. Some new bills here, a new president there, but it’s all really the same. It’s not cynicism, but helplessness. Confusion. POOF! Another freedom gone, another Facebook private message made public. Another judge taking kickbacks for imprisoning children. His friends and coworkers branded him with a big scarlet A. Not that “A.” That one was for adultery, which had become another throw-away philosophy, another throw-away marriage, another throw-away wife POOF! No, this “A” was for apathy. But that wasn’t quite it either. The world according to Thomas had problems! The apathetic don’t admit to problems, why bother? No, not apathy. Something else. Then what?

Then he’d move on. POOF! Another throw-away debate. Another throw-away hung parliament. Another throw-away pundit. Pundits sure aren’t very punny. Another throw-away joke. The problem in the world according to Thomas was that people thought too much. Well, sort of. People thought about which angle would be best for Facebook and which friends could see what, and OH MY GOD, did you see what happened to Tiger Woods? Another throw-away news story. Another throw-away anchor. Take a swim with Edna, take a deep breath. Then what?

Then he’d move on. POOF! See, the will-o-wisps weren’t always so bad, just sometimes there were more, sometimes less. It’s their way, he supposed. Some of them true, some of them not. Everybody had them, he figured. Figured that’s what made him human. Somewhere deep, he felt it all would work out someway or other. Maybe never be the same as it used to be, but figured that’s okay too. The world according to Thomas had changed quite a bit as his memories flashed in and out of existence. Figured it always had. Always wood. Then POOF! He’d move on. Another throw-away blog. Another throw-away idea. Another throw-away story. POOF! There goes the world according to Thomas.

First of all, James Cameron has done something amazing here. There’s no denying the intense complexity of the world he’s created, and not just visually. The whole topography is intriguing, in that it is all at once vaguely familiar and entirely Seussical. From the impossibly tall, and twisty, trees, to the floating mountain ranges, to the vast canyons, every piece of the landscape is taken right from the great sights of our own Terra, only magnified and made somehow more grand on this alien world. Hats off to you, Cameron, for your vision here, and hats off for pulling off such a visually stunning film.

But, the story. Come on, now! Lets roll Dances With Wolves, Fern Gully, Things Fall Apart, and Mechwarrior all into one and call it new? What is this mess? Okay, so, the dastardly humans have showed up to strip mine this planet for “unobtanium” despite any consequences to the indigenous people. There are some scientist types who disagree with this, but they suck at being powerful until the marine shows up. In his wheelchair. There’s a huge twist. The warrior man has a handicap. Instead of hubris, it’s nonfunctional legs. Potaytoh, potahto, I say, when it comes to being a warrior. The scientist people can control genetically grown bodies that look like the aliens, which is a huge help in trying to learn their ways. Or, at least, it could be.

These bodies, or avatars, are really the most key aspect of the message this movie really is driving home. The whole environmental bit is part red-herring, part unifying bad-guy, but more on that in a bit. The humans really think they can become a part of the alien people if they look and talk like the same way. How much more insulting can you really be? I mean, there’s the old adage about the ducks, but does that really apply to people? If I put on a yarmulke, grow a long wispy beard, some curls, and wear a big hat, that doesn’t make me one bit Jewish. But, according to the movie, this should be enough to be accepted into Hasiddic circles. “But, COME ON! I LOOK LIKE YOU, OKAY?” This argument is flawed on so many levels, and to a point, the movie actually admits this, since the Na’vi reject the “sky people,” even in their Avatar forms, but that surely doesn’t stop them from trying the same thing again and a again. Just look at the mecha everywhere. The humans have no faith in their own form, and strive to find something to make themselves better, be that natural resources or surrogate bodies and augmentations.

Ultimately, the target of the humans isn’t nature, or environment. It’s Na’vi culture. This point seemed so blatantly obvious to me, but I still hear this whole guilt-ridden coalescence into, “Okay, James Cameron. We get it. We destroy the environment. We’re sorry.” It’s just absurd. The Na’vi are concerned with the environment because it is PART of their family, their culture, not because it’s what keeps them alive.

So, the story may have been weak, and the vast majority of people who talk about it take it as a little more clever Wall-E type chastisement, but what James Cameron created in the world of Pandora transcends all the problems the movie does have. While Jake Sully and the other characters might be entirely translucent, but the world is extremely rich and full of magic that we haven’t seen before. Quite frankly, the plot and characters only existed because Hollywood wouldn’t make a 3D movie of a simple tour around the world of Pandora, which would have been just as exciting in my opinion.

So, before you jump up on your high-horse and decry the movie as shallow, take a step back and actually LOOK at what Cameron has to show you. You might be surprised at how effectively he communicates to you through your eyes. 4 out of 5 cnidarian soul tree seeds.

Wow. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt has temporarily stopped acquiring manuscripts. Their editors aren’t buying books.

She linked to this article over at Publisher’s Weekly. If you don’t want to read the article (Come on. It’s short.), the key line is “PW has learned that Houghton Mifflin Harcourt has asked its editors to stop buying books.”

I’m a big fan of books. I read a lot of them. I buy a lot more of them. Some day, I would like to write one or two. I’ve been watching the publication industry for a while, because I would like to get into it in some capacity, and I have never heard of a publisher putting an entire hold on buying books. Spokespeople at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt are saying that the move isn’t indicative of anything too sinister, but how can it not? While I’m sure the publisher has a vast store of manuscripts it has purchased not (yet) published, but if a publisher stops buying books, it creates a stagnation in thought.

Think about it: no new books are coming in, so new books will stop going out, and while there are tons of books out there, and no one could ever read them all, publication of new and ever-improving ideas is a must for the development of culture, philosophy, or really any other facet of life. This move by Houghton Mifflin really has me concerned, even if it is being called a “temporary” situation. This is a dangerous precedent for them to have set.

First, I moved this blog from tylerfontaine.com over to here, at my shiny, new, name-matching domain. That’s pretty exciting for me, as I’ve been trying to get a Thursday’s Child domain for a while now.

Secondly, I built a blog for my wonderful lady friend, and should go visit Kreestone at Smalltown Dinosaur. There’s no content there yet, but she’s working on that. I ended up being pretty happy with the design, but any comments or suggestions are always welcome.

Thirdly, I created a new more professionally oriented blog over at my other domain. The idea will be to focus on literary criticism, rhetoric, and the like. I’ll be posting some papers I’ve written and my thoughts on the subjects. I’m also working on getting some people together to start a new project, in which the wide reading habits of scholars everywhere can input their analyses on whatever books they have read. Using tags and categories, I hope to be able to track thematic situations across genres, epochs, and cultures. It would be an interesting study if I can get the manpower behind it.

I’m going to actually make an attempt to get back into this blogging thing, including picking back up on Twittering and commenting on all of your blogs again, like I used to. Sorry for the impromptu hiatus, but I really needed it.

Knowledge is a burden, Wisdom a curse.
Alone I sit with thy infernal words
In veins you course and havoc wreak, like swords
in diabolic plots, the blades which verse

Destined to be buried in men’s live hearts,
And then, our lives to flotsam changed
Adrift in death’s dark sea. Wisdom imparts
Useless thoughts for our now brackish, estranged,

Encumbered souls. The words Wisdom doth speak
Unto the weary dead do sound as a
Folly. ‘E speaks with words of life which wreak
Havoc to we, the freshly dead. Give way

O Wisdom, leave us now to die in peace
Floating here, we sailors find our release.

In other news, I’ve been working on my application to attend Oxford for the Spring semester of 2009. To be completely frank, the very idea creates in me a giddy anticipation of the adventures (quests?) the trip will hold for me. At the very same time, that idea creates in me a nearly debilitating fear and trepidation that I’m nearly unable to work on the application process at all.

The last time I was considering doing this was just last year. I was thinking about going to Oxford this past fall semester, and following that trip up with a semester in Russia during this semester. I wussed out. As it turned out, though, what with all the crazy stuff that went on with my head, it’s probably a good thing that I didn’t end up going then.

As far as what I’ll do if I get in, I already know because I had to pick classes and things as part of the application process. For those of you who don’t already know, the British do things a bit differently in their university system than we do here in the states. I had to pick a seminar track, and a primary and secondary tutorial. The seminars are like typical lectures, given by a number of different faculty members at Wycliffe Hall. The tutorials are just that: one-on-one meetings with faculty to discuss readings, go over papers, etc. The style is largely self-motivated, because you only meet with your tutor once a week, and you have to make sure to get your assignments done in the meantime.

Looking at all the many different tutorials they offer, I decided on these, under the English Language and Literature seminar track. Primary Tutorial: Linguistic Theory; Secondary Tutorial: Old Norse Literature (which will be entirely in Old Norse, which they’ll teach us how to read); Alternate Primary (in case I can’t get into it): The History and Use of the English Language; Alternate Secondary: Old English Literature (Again, it’ll be in Old English, which they’ll teach us).

Those may or may not sound at all interesting to you all in the vast internets, but I can’t wait. ‘Course I’ve got to get myself accepted first. Wish me luck, and please forgive me if my next post is some ramblings as I try to straighten out my application essay.

Not The Way it Ought to Be

But surely that’s not the norm,
Families taking such vile form,
Sisters at 6 years old to mourn?
Children going to bed with nothing to keep warm?

Surely that’s not the way it ought to be.
There’s a father who promises love unconditionally
Whether or not the dishes are done; see,
For Him, it’s ok just to be.

With all the hate, all rage and pain
With our other Father, we can regain
The life we’ve lost to our parents vain
And selfish with all their arguments inane.

Surely that’s not the way it ought to be.
A family who’s decree
Is pain and sadness confuses me,
I don’t understand how could we
As a people allow such travesty?

No support, no love, living alone
As children, when their parents are grown
Who, in their age, really should have known
A child needs reassurance, just throw them a bone

Surely that’s not how it ought to be.
Mimetic ghosts chasing, the children flee
Lost in their sanguine-filled sea
Surely, that’s not how it ought to be.

If only they knew about God’s love
The father whose mercy rains from above
The one who came down as a dove
And through ultimate sacrifice of

His son, He’s set us free.
Surely that’s the way it ought to be.
Wrapped in a warm blankee,
Ear to ear, smiling in glee

That there’s nothing to fear.
Sons and daughters near
To our Father who’s ear
A prayer never doesn’t hear.

Surely that’s the way it ought to be.
Brothers, sisters, mothers, daughters as holy family.
Surely that’s the way it ought to be.

The title, weighing in at a substantial ten words, really gives a fairly concise explanation of what the book addresses. The book takes the reader on a journey through the memories of its author, Christian George, as he begins putting together the pieces of his life, and weaving a tapestry of faith-centered messages.

George has led a life of travel, having been on many a pilgrimage to pertinent places in the Bible and in the history of the Christian faith. He has also traversed the globe on several mission trips. These experiences, along with some personal medical issues, marriage, and long talks with good friends, have given George some insights that the less world-savvy individual might not be able to grasp. That is, at least, the attitude which seems to run the course of the entire book.

George shares his thoughts on why people feel a need to be connected, ways in which people seek out that connection, and things in his life that have made him feel both connected and completely isolated. His stories are straight from the pages of his past, and each one ultimately reveals a spiritual truth, or a piece of the nature of God. From the mundane lunch-room jitters of talking to a girl for the first time, to the extraordinary grief of emergency room visits, everything, it seems, has a deep spiritual purpose, but he expounds on the story itself more than on its meaning of application.

That was a major theme running through the book: exposition of the circumstances and events with little depth into the spiritual truth he’s trying to outline in that specific chapter. At times, George tries so hard to stretch his situations to fit their theme, I found myself getting lost in the narrative. The narratives, also, seemed at times strained, and the language forced in an attempt to try to sensationalize a feeling or event.

Overall, the book begins to say some great things about Christianity, relationships, personal hardships, missions, community, faith, travel, and the list goes on. The list continues, but the outline is only of the second order, without much meat for each topic. While there were chapters on each of the three aspects of the title, the chapters were each self-contained units, and there wasn’t a sense of cohesiveness through them in regard to the expectations derived from the title: intimacy, community, and eternity.

Sex, Sushi, and Salvation is George’s third book. I expect he will continue writing and publishing, and while I think this book leaves some depth to be desired, George is certainly on the track to becoming a top-notch Christian Life writer. I give this book 2.5 out of 5 stars.

There were a few times that I didn’t have anything to say, or forgot to post until way late into the night, but you know, these things happen sometimes. I feel accomplished. Each word I type gives me a sense of glee to know that I actually finished something that I started. And I met all sorts of wonderful new people! I hope you all who started hanging around here will continue to do so. I’ll keep reading all of your lovely blogs because I thought they were so good.

Tomorrow is the big Conference day, and when it’s over, I’ll tell you all about what a mess it was putting it together, but for now, I’ve really got to get on this paper that I’m presenting for it tomorrow. I’ve been pouring over this poem for hours on end, and I’m making headway, but it’s fairly slow going. Things are, however, beginning to fall into place mentally, though; I’ve just got to start getting those ideas out of my head, off of my book and notebook, and into a word processor. After that? No sweat. 5-7 pages should just fall right out. I mean, I’ve done more prep work for this paper than I’ve done in a long time.

Also, I’ll post the paper here after a few months if I can’t get any takers for publication. The title is “Counting the Stars: A New Critical approach to Sir Philip Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella Sonnet 5.” If you’re interested, I can send it to you when I finish it, just comment and ask me.

Congratulations everyone for a job well done!

P.S. As a bonus, here’s the poem itself:

It is most true, that eyes are formed to serve
The, inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebels to Nature, strive for their own smart.
It is most true, what we call Cupid’s dart,
An image is, which for ourselves we carve;
And, fools, adore in temple of our heart,
Till that good god make Church and churchmen starve.
True, that true beauty virtue is indeed,
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed;
True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,
And should in soul up to our country move;
True; and yet true, that I must Stella love.

Enjoy!