The Playful Anarchist podcast, with Asher Black (Anarcast #5, AsherCast #5). Asher talks about the Mel Gibson film Edge of Darkness and the shoe section at Burlington Coat Factory (an anarchy of fashion). Music by Paul Berget (Recercar) on the Magnatune Label. Opinions: solely those of Asher Black. Trying some editing (removal of pauses and silences, lead and trailing music).
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The Playful Anarchist podcast, with Asher Black (Anarcast #2, AsherCast #2). One form of playful anarchy is doing something non-political or that precludes the artificiality of political speech, such as replacing it with truth in the form of fiction. Reading of original fiction by Asher Black. Story is copyright 2009 by Asher Black.
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Asher Black began reading, writing, and getting into trouble when he was very young. His first science fiction story – a satire on one of the young peers who’d been taunting him – received a summary “F” from his teacher and doomed him to be interested in literature from that time forward. Tossing him Tolkien’s books only encouraged him and he was eventually discovered in the library after hours studying Robert’s Graves’ The White Goddess and other such obviously subversive material.
In the couple of decades since then, he’s published poems, articles, editorials, reviews, edited a few minor publications of a similarly “unsavory” nature, and is currently writing short stories.
Any wishing to consort with his ilk can contact him here
[This bio is compiled from various negative reviews of Asher]
Asher Black is an enigma, but observation *will* reveal certain things about him. For example, on the most basic, surface level, it is evident that mine host is a talker first, and a writer second. In fact, he is currently exploring technology that will turn spoken words into written ones, enabling him to conflate talking and writing. Anyone who has spent any time with him at all knows that he loves to hold forth, and discuss, and discurse, and argue, and incite, and bewilder, and instruct, and persuade, and cajole, both in person and in print. And that he does these things most brilliantly after midnight.
Observed a bit more attentively, Asher reveals further a tendency toward devious thought, and an inclination to the heretical. Moreover, he rather likes these qualities about himself. The latter trait arises, perhaps, from the fact that he will listen as intently as he will hold forth, and if he perceives himself to have been wrong about something, he changes his position immediately to be right. (This, however, is a more speculative observation, and so let us return to the traits of Asher’s that pure attention reveals.) He is unafraid of the dark, can think about and act upon several ideas simultaneously, and smokes, not absent-mindedly or efficiently, but ritually (and please put your Freud away. Sometimes a pipe is just a pipe. Now, cigars, on the other hand…definitely Freudian. Just think about it.).
Asher was heard to remark recently, “I like my food like most things: delicate yet hearty.” This remark is germaine here because it points to another trait of Asher’s which it is impossible not to observe: he is an epicure of the old school, or at least an assiduous student thereof. In tobacco, food, clothing, and so on and so on, Asher knows what he likes, and what he likes are fine things.
Asher demonstrates an unmistakeable facility in writing, with a tendency toward the Romantic (heretical?). He has written editorials, poems, stories, and other, less easily classified works, some of which he has displayed for the delectation of Haunt residents. A far wider audience is indicated, in the opinion of this humble scrivener.
Asher Black has lived in many places, been and done many things, worn and still simultaneously wears many hats. Asher has also, at times, quite drastically changed his appearance, and (in keeping with his motto) changed organizations, beliefs, and relationships. Certain things, however, have remained constant. Asher is currently:
These things seem unlikely to change, since Asher can’t help but do them wherever he goes, in whatever capacity he works or lives, and however he appears. And if one looks closely, Asher has always written, published, or taught, in part, to persuade. So naturally, he has been many times a salesman, business owner, founder and/or leader of enterprises and organizations, and has appeared (on occasion, in one shape or another) before a microphone, in the lens of a camera, and under a public spotlight.
He has sometimes been told to turn off his mind or keep quiet (which, for Asher, are the same thing). But one day, he looked at himself and said (along with Happy Harry Hardon), “So be it.” He has sometimes been called arrogant or foolish for not taking the advice, but Asher long ago found himself unable to be ashamed (again, very much like the Eat me, Beat me Lady). One could even refer to this web site as though it were a nude portrait — “Asher Unashamed”.
In a previous version of AsherNet, I answered the question, “What the Hell is this?”
This is an online story, an endlessly developing one. It is also an interactive story, one involving a community as well as a personality. In some ways this is close to the tradition of the online journal (see links). It can also be likened to a kind of open-air expressionism. The ‘notes’ for this story, in all their various forms… poems, tales, letters, jottings, virtual books, rooms, doors, corridors, icons, colors, fonts, layout, structure, reveal the plot, the setting, the theme, and the characters – including the protagonist. You’ve heard it said that the medium is the message. The form of speech communicates as much as speech per se. Every aspect of this multiverse of personality is a contribution to the story. The reactions to these notes, as they take shape, have ranged from praise to ridicule to bewilderment. These reactions too, are sometimes part of the story.
When asked to write a term paper in college on the Vietnam Invasion, James borrowed the title from Pat Benetar’s Love is a Battlefield. His theme was a line from the lyrics… “No promises, no demands” as it expresses the lack of clear objectives in the conflict. When asked to explain the relevance of an 80’s power pop song to a 60’s conflict for which a wealth of musical commentary already exists, James sang out his reply: “Believe me, believe me, I can’t tell you why.” When ordered to leave the class, he continued, “You’re making me go, then making me stay. Why do you hurt me so bad? It would help me to know, do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you’ve had?” At that point security had to be called. James turned the tables by enlisting the guards as background singers with the simple persuasive words, “all together on the chorus!” and the class emptied of frantic students as they went on for several minutes with “love is a battlefield… love is a battlefield… love is a…”
Incidentally, Jamie once showed me the above Benetar photo, which he keeps in his wallet as inspiration for his own musical endeavours. When asked why it was so powerful for him, he merely responded, “Always lead with your nipple.”
Note: this is actually part of a game Asher invented called, rather uninventively, The Musical Insult Game.
Epoch isn’t too bad, but it’s bad enough. The sci-fi unreality isn’t really a problem. It’s the unreality of all the other stuff – from the diplomacy to the way operations work in the field. That stuff is tongue-in-cheek some of the time, but the rest of the time it is just silly. The premise was certainly interesting, though not much different than, say, The Abyss, except that it’s on land. The are the usual stereotypes – bumbling ambassadors (who are indeed sometimes bumbling, just in different ways – this isn’t social commentary), mindless trigger-happy grunts (ok, that’s not too far off, either), a fundamentalist (hmmm. Guess he was kind of spot on, as well), the peace-loving scientist (one word… Oppenheimer), and the tough but soft in the middle uniformed love interest (’bout had enough of those). Then there’s the bewildered presentation of the Chinese. Clearly written by someone who knows nothing about them. There is too much shadow, gas, and too many sparks inside the “torus” – the mysterious (think ‘monolith’ from 2001) stone funnel that rose from below bedrock and stretched to the sky, hovering just above ground. And there’s the usual destruction of the great machine, complete with the getaway of our two reasonable heroes amid lots of camera shaking and rocks falling. And lo… he’s cured and she’s finally able to conceive. Ick! This is the B-side ot a B movie. It would be a decent comic book, but isn’t worth a DVD.
Iggy Goes Down . . . Well… another film by Camus. [Doesn't deserve it's own post.]
Ya know, the talking heads are going on (yes, I listened briefly) about the 21 people trampled to death in a Chicago nightclub. Not a soul is asking whether the savages who walked on people’s faces should be punished.
I hope for their sake, they find the people resonsible for the dog mutilation in Oklahoma before someone like me does. I’m afraid there wouldn’t be enough left to pull dental records if I caught up w. them.
I caved and watched TV today. Disappointing as usual. Besides hearing about the “threat from (fill in whoever we want to make war upon)” – everywhere the *threat*, the *danger* – it was the television version of Shawshank Redemption. Those pieces of shit canned the words “We’ll dance around it like wild Injuns” in favor of “We’ll dance around it”. Protecting us from any characters that we’d find too repugnant, they bowdlerized the thing.
Also, found this on the 2600 site. I love it when the state goes out of its way to exhibit all the signs of statist totalitarianism. Might as well be out with what it really is. Stalin would be laughing in his grave, if he could.
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