ayeamspartacus: (Default)
Having been raised in an Evangelical Christian household with an unquestioning belief in the supernatural, I would have to say The Exorcist was the most frightening movie I have ever seen. It hits on a primal level if you have one of the two religious backgrounds that connect to that mythos. (The other would be Catholic.) I'm not a big fan of that movie, but I have to say it is the only movie I have ever seen that made me uneasy. In fact, a minister when I was a child saying that every time the movie was shown, demons were released from hell, probably didn't help. That's ridiculous of course, but it stuck with me. Besides, any good Evangelical should know that demons and Satan are not in hell at this time, or at least not confined there. Satan is the Prince of the Powers of the Air, after all. :)
ayeamspartacus: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]
Well, a lot of important things were written on them.  But you have to be able to read ancient languages like Sumerian and Hebrew to fully appreciate a good tablet. 

ayeamspartacus: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]Spart is a son of a beach. Definitely.

I love water - and be it lake or ocean, I love the beach. Especially an ocean beach. Some of my best childhood memories are of going to the beach, and to this day I am an excellent swimmer.

My mother was a surfer girl from Camarillo, California, and she had me in the water before I could walk. My love of the ocean is tied up with my better memories of her. The feel of hot sand on my bare feet, the smell of salt water, and the sound of waves crashing are a better combination than any drug or drink I've ever had.

Our culture almost took this love away from me when I hit about 13 or so and realized I was fat. I still managed to make it to the beach, even if it was wearing a T-shirt. Now that I'm in my 30s and married, it doesn't bother me so much and I can go to the beach without worrying a lot about how I look. Although I still like as much privacy as possible.

I always feel at home in the water, more graceful than I can ever be on land. I've never been bothered by deep water, strong currents, or thoughts of what animals might be sharing the water. When I was boy, that meant I was prone to take foolish chances - like proving I could make it from a swimming beach at Lake Murray to the island across the way. I've grown wiser as I've gotten older, but I still love a good, long swim. (And I really like a swim by moonlight, when it can be arranged without risking arrest by an overzealous park ranger.)

A lake or ocean is a wilderness. Going into the water is just like hiking in the woods. You must always be aware of your surroundings and careful to respect them. Other than that, have fun!

I'm hoping we'll be able to take our Thanksgiving trip to South Padre this year.

And yes, I'm a Pisces, in case you couldn't tell.

ayeamspartacus: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd] I always liked "Sleeping Beauty."

As a boy, I could appreciate it from the perspective of the prince, especially in the Disney movie, where he must battle a dragon to get to her. It just seemed like the kind of thing a prince ought to be doing. Fighting dragons to save princesses (or anyone, for that matter) is part of the princely job description in a fairy tale setting. The true love part was nice too, but as an adult I find it kind of contrived. We need some more backstory on why the prince loves her.

I also liked the aspect of the three good witches (or fairies, I don't remember which, but I think I always thought of them as witches) blessing the baby girl with various positive attributes at her christening, and then the evil one crashing the party and cursing her, partly out of spite. Something about that resonated with me at a mythic level for some reason.

At the other end of the spectrum, I hated Snow White for some reason. It made me depressed and the Disney movie made me afraid of apples for several months.

ayeamspartacus: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd] First a serious answer. I want to be cremated and my wife keep my ashes. If she remarries or gets serious with someone, it's okay to put them in storage. If there's no one to pass them down to, scatter them over the ocean before you die.

Now, the rest of the story.

I've always said, if I get filthy, stinking, nasty, disgusting rich, there will be a proviso in the will to inherit my billions, boys and girls.

I want to be stuffed and mounted when I die (in the taxidermy sense, you pervs) and given to my heir.

The heir will be required to display me prominently in his or her home or they lose the fortune.

They can dress me up in funny costumes, pose me, whatever. I don't care. But I have to be displayed for all to see!

"Him? That's crazy uncle Spart. I have to display him or we're living under a bridge. Doesn't stop me from putting him in a tutu with a sword in one hand and a French horn in the other though! Jeeves, bring me another martini!"

ayeamspartacus: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]I have two very early memories.

1. This is probably the first thing I consciously remember. I was in a walker, going around my grandparents' house at the family ranch. I was less than two, maybe less than 1, I don't know. We were living there right after coming to Oklahoma from California and before that Hawaii. So I was tooling around in the walker on the hardwood floors. It was about dusk. My grandmother had placed a fake red rose in a vase on one of the coffee tables. I rolled up on it, and it remember it was very red and filled me with absolute dread. I remember the fear. To this day, I have idea why it scared me. My parents claim I picked up the walker and ran away crying to my father.

So, I actually ran before I walked.

2. My next earliest memory is actually of a nightmare. In the house at Lone Grove, we had a TV set up on makeshift shelves held up by cinderblocks. My parents had bought this evil-looking statuette of a brahma bull that they placed under the TV. Now, I don't remember this, but apparently one night I was checking out the bull with wide-eyed curiosity and a little bit of fear. My dad couldn't help it, he reached out and grabbed me while roaring. Like I said, I don't remember it. But I do remember a vivid nightmare of that bull statuette coming to life and chasing me around the house, roaring.

My father has since quite seriously apologized for scaring me like that as a toddler, once I mentioned that dream memory offhand a few years ago.

Funny, the things we do that affect children without even thinking about them. I have to admit, I would be tempted to do the same thing...


ayeamspartacus: (Default)

January 2013

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