Happy Halloween From Kate And @Isoban

"Sweetie Got Away" digital art by Christopher Butler, aka Isoban

When Rintrah caught a dragonet, his thought

To train it like a falcon seemed ideal

(When one depends on just the souls one's caught

To feed one's family every single meal

Some help is much appreciated). So

When Gamory showed little talent for

The task it was appointed, Rintrah's woe

Shook all the fires of hell, until Rintror

(His youngest daughter) tugged his pantleg, said

"It's pretty. May I keep him? Do say yes!"

"All right, but pull its wings off." "Ew! It bled

All over me!" "Well, leave them on, I guess,"

Quoth Rintrah. Then the darn thing burst out, free

(And Happy Halloween from Chris and me)!

Thoughts During The Mac Tonnies Memorial Skype-Up

They're real, and talking up there on my screen!

Our pre-Mac pasts, our shared experience,

And now our future plans -- we share the cream

Of what he brought and started. In a sense

We've brought him back. Excitement's not the word

(I wonder what I'm doing 'mongst them, though,

These giants of imagination -- heard

For real the first time on a day I know

Is hard for all of us. Oh, how did these

Rare beings enter my life and my heart,

Chris, Rita, Josh and Mark, and more who, please,

I'll count as mine forevermore? Our start

In sorrow's blossomed in a way

Not even he'd imagine -- so hooray!

In Which I Wish Atlantis FSM Speed (And Pay No Attention To The Tears)

Few things on earth excite me like a launch
Of big tin cans of people into space.
And often many tissues, for to staunch
My tears are needed; I screw up my face
And cry in pride and awe (and jealousy).
Today's was diff'rent, though; there's only two
More shuttle missions left, then we will be
A-paying fares to Russia. I am blue
E'en as I wonder with dear IsoBan
How can the generation who first tried
Not join me in deploring this odd con,
This bait-and-switch. Manned space travel has died
In my homeland, and with it my pastime:
"Winos For Souyeuz" won't be fun to rhyme.

SESTINA SATURDAY: In Which I Try To Answer @IsoBan's Question

So far as we know well, we've just one life
Apiece, and while there's room for lots of change,
And impetus for more out in the stars,
We're somewhat governed, still, by what our past
Has made of us. That's not to say a plan
Cannot be radical; just takes resolve.

Excited as I am by your resolve
(It's something I have shared), I think your life
May have a shape unlike that which you plan
In thinking once again of school. A change
Is good but not for its own sake. Your past
Mayhap has shown your own path to the stars.

We want to take our people to the stars
In one form or another. We resolve
A future for our species, though its past
Persuades some it's unworthy. Still, for life
As Earth has made it to go on and change
Beyond the Sun's lifespan, we need a plan.

As Constellation was quite a flawed plan,
But was the one we had beneath these stars,
And hasn't been replaced so much by change
As for some place-held promises, resolve
To keep to NASA's mission's threatened. Life
Demands that we who want more, shed the past.

But much of who we are comes from that past,
Our talents and our strengths -- surely our plan
Must needs incorporate these; one's whole life
Informs one's mission, whether to the stars
Or to a city park as ash. Resolve
With me to stay true to this through this change.

Is what you do now not of value? Change
Perhaps its focus, but respect your past,
What you have done and longed for. Your resolve
Will stay strong if you honor that. I plan
As you do, too, to redirect; the stars
Call to us with a strength beyond mere life.

But know as life calls on you now to change
And chase the stars directly, that your past,
Your friends, support your plan and your resolve.

Sestinator's note: To hear the other end of this conversation, check out this AudioBoo of my friend Chris Butler's (aka @IsoBan).

In Which I Prepare For #BrainHackWithDrums

I've had me one fine soporific day

That could lead to a listless, hopeless night.

To free myself from ennui's bitter sway

A weapon I'll turn loose for this, my fight.

The Jedi, IsoBan, says music is

A way to hack your brain, and this is true.

The cobwebs being thick, I'm choosing this:

A lot of great drum music, shared with you

On Blip.fm. So tune in if you please,

For Buddy Rich, Jon Bonham, Cozy Powell,

Some gamelan and Ondekoza. Jeez!

So much to choose from I am like to howl!

So pound those skins, boys, shake me from my trance

And look the other way; I might just dance.

In Which A Conversation Is Continued

A Twittering, sad panda showed me this,

To use the net and be depressed are linked,

This work suggests. I follow there my bliss,

Though sometimes am made sad, to be succinct

(As sonnets and as tweets require). But, see,

Depression far predates computers in

Both human and in pers'nal history.

A stigma still exists, a taint of sin

Still hovers over mouseclicks done instead

Of "real life." But on this point I've got news:

That life is life, in body or in head

No matter how you spend the time. I choose

To pass a lot of time with those I've not

Met in the flesh; I gloat at what I've got.

SESTINA SATURDAY: Performing Art

"The Smoking Chap" - speed painting by Chris Butler, aka Isoban

I watch it all begin with just a line,

Then more, from which will soon emerge a shape.

A face appears! Then as he adds some shade

And fine detail, there bubbles up a word,

Perhaps a name: The Smoking Chap! What verse

Can I create to catch this painting's tone?

An ugly face, say all, which sets the tone

As this chap comes to life. With ev'ry line

More tufts of hair and wrinkles show (in verse:

The flow of time is speeded on). My shade

Is there to follow Chris's hand; the word

I want is "telepresence." More takes shape.

O that a world like ours now holds its shape,

So real, though so much of it has the tone

Of fantasy! The ether bears my word

To he who draws; he answers. A new line

Appears upon his screen and there's a shade

Of character there now to haunt my verse.

We live now in a wholly sci-fi 'verse.

Our daily world has taken on a shape

Which leaves both Verne and Wells off in the shade.

No one imagined one day that his tone

Of voice as he makes ev'ry brand-new line

Could be shared with so many, and each word.

Some still believe it started with a Word,

This world; they quote in turn each Bible verse

As though it had that power. Not my line,

Such thinking, though I watched as Chris did shape

A Fremen next by my request. In tone

It owed much to Leone's cowboy shade...

Now migraine-haunted I lie in the shade

Of my cool room; unbidden comes the word

"Sestina," all-commanding in the tone

Of this, my smoking muse, demanding verse

To celebrate his strange birth, taking shape

From Chris's hand to my uncertain line.

A line and then another, thought and shade

Bring forth a shape and then a hail of word

To form a verse whose tone is veiled in smoke.

Sestinator's note: Today's sestina was largely inspired by a most unusual experience I shared with a few friends earlier this week. The creator of the speed painting which appears above executed it live via his Ustream channel. He -- and we -- enjoyed it so much that we're going to do it all again sometime this weekend. If you would like to join us, keep an eye on Isoban's Twitter feed for the announcement and follow the link. Join our painting peanut gallery!

In Which Metamorphic Snack Food Is Discovered

Approximately 3:15 p.m.

(That's Central Time) o'er there in Bowling Green

(Kentucky) - is the milieu from which stems

A mystery that's got us in a keen

Debate over a most disturbing claim.

A paranormal candy bar? Some scoff

And say that CGI is what's to blame.

('Twas my first thought, I must admit), but off

The record, yes, there's something much awry

With that conclusion. This is snack food schist!

Its foliation stuns the keenest eye.

How geologic wonders in our midst

Can manifest in snacks, we've not been told.

Perhaps time travel? Or it's just real old?

In Which, In All Seriousness, I Do In Fact Rejoice With Chris Butler At His Creation

At last we reach the day in which SkyNet
First comes to life. Of course it's IsoBan,
Called Valian, who built it. Now we'll get
What's coming to us, once he turns it on.
We can't say we weren't warned; he's shared with us
The IsoCore 9000's ev'ry pang
Towards birthing. Now it's far too late to fuss.
He says it boots up fast; we all can hang
Who trust it not. Just hear his "Muhaha!"
As IsoCore doth reach out for the web.
I hope it won't absorb its master. Ah,
I'm proud with him but how soon pride can ebb,
Warped into fear, misunderstanding, and
A frenzied panic spreading o'er the land...

Happy Birthday, IsoBan!

His illustrations stun me ev'ry time
I mosey to his blog to see what's new;
Chris Butler's not yet reached his artist's prime.
But fine art isn't all that he can do -
Go listen to him. He's another wise
And thoughtful voice on matters we find strange.
I'm liking what I'm seeing through his eyes,
And, too, participating in his range
Of Google Waves. His birthday is today,
A Monday, but if there is anyone
Who can transcend that, it is he, I'll say.
So go forth, IsoBan, and have some fun.
Then please continue opening up minds
With thoughtful questions and intriguing finds.