Christopher Vera’s Mystic Nebula

Gary Gygax passes away at 69:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/03/04/obit.gygax.ap/index.html

Gary Gygax was a major influence for why I learned to read. When I was in the 6th grade, I stood in a bookstore staring at a strange book entitled “Monster Manual”. I picked it up and the first monster I turned to was the Trapper, with a picture of an off-balance fighter surprised to see the floor rising up to attack him. I was instantly hooked on AD&D. I still love it.

Dungeons and Dragons opened up a new way for geeks to socialize under the context of “gaming”. It tempted all but the most anti-social from their darkened hovels and into the light to spend time with others of their kind.

I’ll bet he and J.R.R. Tolkien are rolling up new characters right now. I’m ready to play back here on Earth. The Trapper is still my favorite monster. Let me tell you about the time my 3rd level thief pulled the lever of a magical machine and was transformed into a pseudo-dragon…

Just pulled down some new beats from the dark matter. Find them here.

The possibility of life on other planets appears high. The chances of us finding it (or them finding us) in an expanding universe seems very low. The poetic possibilities when contemplating this are infinite.

• http://www.ufocasebook.com/

• http://www.astrobiology.com/

• http://astrobiology.arc.nasa.gov/

• http://www.astrobio.net

This year at ConDor 2008, the Southland Poets of the Fantastic will host a speculative poetry workshop, 3-5pm Saturday March 1st. Multi-dimensional visitors welcome. A few of us plan to read. See you there!

The fundamental units of the Universe are its suns; its basic building blocks. Its galaxies are likened to cells in our bodies. Thus, its dark matter becomes flesh, unseen from inside. Its black holes are like cancer that feed oh, so slowly. Over billions and billions of billions of years. Yet its soul–yes its soul–is so human: Tragic, complex and unknowable.

It occurred to me in Italy as I stood before Michealangelo’s David, that we don’t go to see great works of art. We can find pictures of masterpieces in books and on postcards that are better lit, show more detail. Most of us have “seen” great works of art before.

Then why do we go to see them in real life?

I believe we go to stand great works of art not to merely make them a part of our brief lives, or to say that we saw them to our friends, but to make ourselves part of their history. So millenia from now, long after we are gone, in the ongoing life of the masterpiece, somehow we become part of its history. That like the great leaders and the untold millions before us, we too stood before the masterpiece and gazed upon it.

That we too became, in our own way, a part of history that although may never be recorded, can never be denied. Like Michaelangelo, I stood before David. I was there.

The masterpiece becomes our witness to these micro-histories in the making, repeating over and over for every person. May they have long memories.

From an Internet Cafe in Rome I sit and write this. The sounds of Roman streetlife drone outside: motorscooters, beeping taxis, an old lady shouting into a phone in Italiano. Lots of pictures, lots of food, lots and lots of €uro.

Its easy to understand if Romans in particular look at Americans as small children. To them, our culture is still an infant. Its easy for us to look at them as backwards or even a bit primitive. But this is a mistake that becomes clear when one realizes this city of Rome was old before most anything we can think of as civilized was old. The Romans are the caretakers of what we once were. Without their traditions handed down century after century, none of this, or us, might be here as we are now…

The Southland Poets of the Fantastic (SPF) met at Cabrillo National Monument in San Diego on December 8th, 2008.

I was 45 minutes late and missed the whole thing! Well, almost. The air was cold but clear and I could see a storm coming from miles out from the Pacific. Rays of sun burst through the clouds lighting giant spotlights of ocean. Beautiful.

I looked all over for my fellow SPFers. I found out later they were down at the tidepools - too far to walk to from the monument to go check. I spent my time learning more about Cabrillo’s trip and the tidepools from some brief films in their auditorium.

The park closed at 5pm. My ride wasn’t there to pick me up. It’s three miles from the monument back to the gate. I had to walk in the rain…in the dark…through the Roscrans Veteran’s Cemetery. The road was dark - there are no street lamps on the path. The rows of bleached markers rose from the earth like whales’ teeth.

The walk was peaceful: The wind, the water, the sound of the ocean crashing far below. The view of the harbor lights while I walked gave me the feeling I was descending from the sky on a stairway of vapor into the city.

I loved every minute of it. Can’t wait for the next one! If you are speculative poet looking for like-minded folk in Southern California, be sure to drop a note and say hi. And consider joining the SPF.

The Magee Park Poets will publish “Those Four Little Words”, one man’s perspective on abortion, in their 2007 Anthology.

A reading party for the anthology will take place on December 5th at the Dove Library in Carlsbad, CA. Contact the library for more details.

See you there!