October 13, 2005
Cinnamon has finally succumbed.
The rodent era has ended.
Part of me is verily saddened by this; the gerbils stuck with us through the fire and through the years.
Part of me feels the lifting of a responsibility; with only one left it was only a matter of time before this one went away as well.
Argh. More despondency in a current time frame of total despondency. So, I guess it fits quite well.
Picking it up, I had a flash of monetary problems in my life and how welcome this boon would be at this time and place.
Hesitating, I found myself walking back into the store. The moral thing to do, I thought, would be to turn the bill into the office for retrieval by whoever had lost it.
The line to the service desk was long, unfortunately, since it gave me a lot of time to think about what I was doing.
Then I realized (due to the store policy of my second retail job) that the money would revert to the store and not to anybody else. Besides, how was somebody who claimed the loss to prove that they had dropped a fifty dollar bill outside the store?
So, I crumpled the bill in my fist, walked back outside and wondered what to do. I stood by my car for about 20 minutes searching for anyone that might be searching for something lost.
So I stashed the bill in my pocket and drove off.
Did I do the okay thing?
I mean, this is fifty bucks which somebody else could have been counting on to maintain the next several days of their life (of which feeling I know quite well lately). But who to turn it into? How to return to the rightful owner?
I have no idea. All I know right now is that I am $50 in the black which is something I wasn't a scant few hours ago.
But I can't let go of the questions this brought up.
October 12, 2005
My favorite song/poem of all time. Especially recently. Hook is: "Give Up". I want to do such, lately.....
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.....
Amid the noise and waste.
And remember what comfort there may be
In owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet and passive persons
Unless you are in need of sleep.
Rotate your tires.
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself
And heed well their advice,
Even though they be turkeys.
Know what to kiss.....and when!
Consider that two wrongs never make a right
But that three do.
Wherever possible, put people on hold.
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment
And despite the changing fortunes of time,
There is always a big future in computer maintenance.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Remember the Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle and mutilate.
If you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs,
Especially with those persons closest to you.
That lemon on your left, for instance.
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
Would scarcely get your feet wet.
Fall not in love therefore;
It will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth:
The birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan
And let not the sands of time
Get in your lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time call 606-4311;
Ask for "Ken."
Take heart amid the deepening gloom
That your dog is finally getting enough cheese.
And reflect that whatever misfortune may be your lot
It could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore, make peace with your god
Whatever you conceive him to be -
Hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises and urban renewal
The world continues to deteriorate.
You are a fluke
Of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not
The universe is laughing behind your back.
September 29, 2005
Chalk it up to that my life lately has been totally fucked up but I don't feel like sharing it with the world populace at large. The people closest to me know. If any of the rest of you really want to be apprised of the situation, just email me and I'll fill you in on ALL the details. Certainly more than you want to know. If not, then just continue reading here and you may glean some nonsense filler.
All this being said, there is no guarantee that my posting here tonight is an indication that it will be continued. I hope so, but......
For years I loved various vintages of Cotes du Rhone.
For years I thought that French wines were the best.
But now, after many attempts in the last couple of years, I finally give up.
Most bottles I get lately have dried out corks and a nasty turned taste. In fact, I tend to approach my first sip with a lot of trepidation.
Latest was opening a bottle of 2001 Haut de Domy. And it sucked.
Lately, Argentinian bottles and Chilean vintages are far more fetching to me.
I don't know if it is a conservative conspiracy to drop the value of old French wines ('Freedom' wine, anyone?) or what it is.
All I know is that I can't take it anymore.
Maybe my tastes have finally deteriorated to Thunderbird or MD. Hey - at least it'll be cheaper!
August 10, 2005
Kill me. Just kill me now.
In other news:
Dukes of Hazzard just pisses me off.
Kyle is recovering splendidly.
Things have been nuts.
The IRS is on the move again.
And the number one thing is that I was Secret Shopped at my part time gig and got a perfect score. I would normally be proud of such an event, but instead I feel merely that I have become a lifer. Once my name goes up on the plaque, I will have no outside life at all and will still be selling retail tobacco products when I am 70+ years old.
And I am back to Kill me. Just kill me now.
July 29, 2005
I suppose it should be big deal; after all, this is my extended family. However, most of them are folk that I would never have anything to do with in the normal events of daily life. Not that they aren't nice people, but their expectations of life are in a completely different realm than mine. In fact, in the past it's almost like several hills out of the hills of Kentucky were lifted in entirely and transplanted into SW Wisconsin; that is my family: bible thumping country folk that I have absolutely no ability to relate to.
Kind of sadly, though, I don't think this reunion is going to survive many more years - the older folk are not attending (either through lack of ability or death, including my dad who was my most immediate link to these people). Some part of me wants to keep the family spirit going.
But let's just say that my last name is Smith. Since my mother, my daughter and myself were the only ones there with that last name, it has already escaped beyond my purview. There were a host of others with relationships to the family but no other Smith's in the party.
What does that say about this particular reunion? Over? Yep.
July 21, 2005
I always forget how much I enjoyed this show until I actually sit down and watch it.
Humour, drama, character development, quirkiness...it is all there. And I love it.
I saw the pics of the vehicle tonight, too...it is a wonder he survived at all.
But I am proud of her...she has had an aversion to blood and gore and yucky stuff all her life, but she's putting her own fears in place and staying right my his side throughout this ordeal.
July 10, 2005
First, let me tell you how much I hate June bugs. For those outside of the midwest, I don't know if you experience these mindless beetles, but they are the stupidest, ugliest and most ridiculous creatures of creation. For reference, check http://www.pbase.com/shaun/image/30280226 or, for a more scientific bent: http://www.ces.ncsu.edu/gaston/Pests/junebug.html
Anyway, they are the stupidest creatures, always flying into walls or windows or my hair - in fact, the last two evenings, they have flown into my head where I find myself senselessly beating them off of my head wondering why, if it is July, they are still here. Dammit.
Next, I find myself as the token guy at my part time job. Not a huge surprise except that I just found out that I am the only guy that has ever been hired at this place. I was told I was the subject of some gossip already because of this and further, because I was cute! This is more than I can take. But, unfortunately, a woman came into the place yesterday and told me that it was good to see me behind the counter rather than "those miserable females that usually work here". She continued: " I mean, I love vaginas, but only my own, so thank god you are working today!".
I gave her my little Lord Fauntleroy bow and said thank you, but what else could I say?
I feel so....spotted? Used? I dunno...all I know is that I do not feel sexy in the slightest in my work garb, but somehow I am the poster-dude of the store now. Ugh.
Finally, (there's more to tell, but I just don't feel like writing any more), I have found my fav jeans at Target. I have long wondered why it was acceptable for women to wear 'flares' in the current decade but not men. And, I have to tell you, the old Levi's big bell button fly jeans were my garb back in the day. Now, at least, there is a slight leaning towards that end: Mossimo, at Target. The "old style boot cut" jeans are flared, with a button fly and they fit great. Almost like I remember 20 years ago. I'm happy. Plus, I found a pair on clearance today, for only 12 bucks, so the joy abounds. Life is for the little things, and this happens to be one of them.
More later, if I can remember....
June 27, 2005
I've ignored the blog page.
I've tried to write music to no avail...
In short, this has been just a nasty week for communication and/or creativity.
Thing will get better as I settle into a new reality.
What is a new reality? Is it an episodic representation of what should be happening? Or is really a quantum leap from one plane of existence to another?
For myself, it is both: The gestalt consists of the planetary and societal alignments with me dropping through the planes to wherever I end up...there is little choice in the matter.
Now, if I only knew exactly what I was talking about......
June 17, 2005
The shells swell up due to the moisture content, shred themselves into pulp in the tumultuous blades and then proceed to clog up every pipe under the sink. If my kids were normal and ate the whole seed shell and all, I wouldn't have had this problem. As it is, I will forever just throw them away and not try to grind them out of existence.
Turns out, I guess, that it was just biding its time.
Tonight I am at the kitchen sink cleaning up a bit (one of my main irritations in life is a cluttered and messy cooking area). While my back was turned to the dining area (not a formal dining room, just an area), I noticed out of my peripheral vision that the light in the room became perceptively more intense. I turned around and the light fixture above the table was on. It is dimmer switch that has to be rotated to function. I know I did not turn it on (4 100 watt bulbs in it - I would have noticed!) and I did detect the additional illumination when it happened.
I can't explain it. The light wasn't on when I went to the kitchen. It got turned on about 5 minutes later. I was home alone. I was 15 feet from the dimmer switch.
How would you interpret this?
June 16, 2005
[insert traveling music here]
Dum du da dum...
Oh, you're back? Okay. On with the post.
I get home tonight and find the freezer door slightly ajar. and the appliance itself humming away madly trying desperately to avert a disaster.
All that was really affected, however, was a package of venison cheddar bratwurst. It was thawed completely, being close to the door.
So that pretty much decided what was for dinner. I fought any attempt at ptomaine...cooked them with butter, onions and beer for 2 hours and then grilled them for about an hour to make sure that any traces of toxins were eradicated.
I have a digital camera, and could post a pic of the end result here, but I am more of a humanist than that.
Suffice it to say, I am eating them right now.
The flavour isn't bad, but I expect to be deceased before morning. Those of you who expect to gain some insurance money should be at the solicitor's office before 10. I'll call you if I happen to survive.
June 15, 2005
The drug test is what proved interesting once I got the appointment.
I'm at my real job today and suddenly craved a cup of coffee (not an unusual occurrence). So I popped across the street to one of the many coffee shops dispersed around the downtown district (I think I counted two on every block surrounding the capital building. The only thing missing so far is to have opposing Starbucks across the street from each other, but I am relatively assured that that day is soon forthcoming).
While there, I notice a biaggi that looks awfully tasty in the display case, so I order one of those as well. It was a choice between that and a BlackForest tart, but I thought the plain baked goodness outshone the overly sweetened pastry.
Taking my purchases back to my desk across the street, I was halfway through the bread when I realized that it was covered with poppy seeds. I knew it was seeded; the clerk even asked me if it was okay that it was seeded to which I acquiesced. But all of a sudden, a Seinfeld episode popped into my head (it is frightening how often that happens to me) about drug tests and poppy seeds (for those of you not in the know, various illicit substances are made from the poppy plant - it is for a good reason that the Wicked Witch of the West intones "Poppies will put them to sleep!").
But, since I figured that if there was any truth to it at all I was sunk anyway, I just finished the roll and coffee and headed to the drug testing rendevouz at 12:30.
There is something about urinating into a cup that is unlike any other action a human can partake of. I imagine it is quite a bit more difficult for women and I sympathize, but I was having my own bad time of it. In any event, I was successful other than filling the stupidly small plastic receptacle almost to overflowing (before managing to switch to the larger porcelain bowl underneath me) so that it was next to impossible to carry it out to the waiting technician without sloshing. At that point, I asked about the poppy theory and, while she agreed that such was possible, the potential was from years ago when the tests were a lot less accurate. She estimated that it would take the ingesting of over a pound of poppy seeds to trigger a positive in the tests. Which, if someone ate that kind of quantity, would indicate larger problems (both mentally as well as physically) than passing a drug screening.
Now the only thing holding me up from getting this job is the off chance that there is some residual chemical in laundry soap that will show up due to my continued use of it in my dishwasher. And if that happens, then I will cease to care. I have invested time and trouble into getting this extracurricular position but I'm not at all sure that I will happy with it once I am accepted anyway. But, if I do start working there, think of all the humorous fodder I will have for future blog entries. Now there's a perk I can live with!
June 14, 2005
This is a pet peeve of mine.
Years back (when I didn't have the responsibility I have now and when I had more energy than I have now) when I would test the mics, I would either sing some lyrics, recite a poem or read the upcoming events from the promo card the venue had laying around on the tables.
I know, 'Testing' gives a good indication of high end with the clipped 'tee' sound and the sibilant 'ess' sound, but the sound guys can certainly get the same levels from G.K. Chesterton's:
See the flying French depart
Like the bees of Bonaparte,
Swarming up with a most venomous vitality.
Over Baden and Bavaria,
And Brighton and Bulgaria,
Thus violating Belgian neutrality.
And rest assured that they will thank you for the change of pace.
June 13, 2005
Wal-mart is everything in a big box store that I oppose. No matter the PR commercials that are shown about what a wonderful place it is to work, I don't believe it.
Remember the "Buy American" campaign from years ago that Sam kicked off? Guess how many products on the shelves there are made in America anymore? Instead, how many products are produced on the shoulders of human misery (many products are made in China by a bevy of people who make $90 per month!)?
Not that they are alone in this, but they are the largest retailer in the world. If they were a country, their GDP would equal that of Saudi Arabia.
From American Independent Business Alliance (http://www.amiba.net/pressroom/walmart_hitting_wall_8.29.04.html):
"Wal-Mart is more than twice the size of its biggest global competitor, France's Carrefour SA. Blue-chip suppliers such as Procter & Gamble, Mattel Co. and Gillette Co. count on Wal-Mart as their most important customer. They tailor their output to Bentonville's requirements Â even to the point, in the case of one music label, of producing a sanitized version of a bestselling CD to earn a place on Wal-Mart's shelves."
Listen: The memory card I purchased measures approximately 3 inches by 2 inches. It was packed in a plastic bubble that measured around 18 inches by 12 inches. Why? I think it was strictly to reduce theft (hard to pocket that). And, lest you think it was the manufacturer on their own, I saw the same card at a competitor in a more normal 4X6 inch package, albeit for $10 USD more. I'm not sure is there is any correlation there, but it fits into my view of this retail behemoth.
When we walked out of the store, there was a huge flash of lightening directly overhead and a subsequent huge boom of thunder which caused many of the store's entering/exiting patrons to jump noticeably.
I turned to my kid and told her, "See? That is god telling me that I am never to shop here again!"
And I will not.
June 9, 2005
Since she's met her boyfriend, there is a lot less time to spend together, so this should be very enjoyable. Especially since it will be her last day of high school.
Oh my...am I already feeling the onset of 'empty nest syndrome"?
Nah...at the rate she's going, she won't be moving out until she's thirty. Even if she gets married and has kids, they'll end up living with me. Which will be nice for a while: taking care of the old curmudgeon. But then I won't be able to take it anymore, so I'll move to a more tropical clime where they will have to visit me in order for me to babysit the grandkids.
And it sure is fun to go through them and watch her squirm as I find pics from the years past that show her in what she believes to be an unflattering light.
Trouble is, she is able to watch me in a reciprocal way as I also find 'kodak moments' of myself that should have been buried years ago.
That is why cameras were invented to begin with: to embarrass those who's images are captured so their descendents can laugh uproariously at hair styles, attire, facial expressions and circumstances.
At least we don't have to sit still for 30 minutes or so for daguerreotypes to be created.
June 7, 2005
The very act of them being scattered would lend itself naturally to them being isolated, no? And vice versa?
Sorry for all the meteorological posts; I am obsessed and thwarted at the same time.
Doesn't that soon lead to complete insanity? I can hear it now:
"What made him snap in the McDonald's parking lot?"
"I hear it was lack of rain."
Now, I don't know if this is because Madison is an old holdout town from the 60's or if it is due to the nature of my long-hair style where they might decide that I'm 'one of them'. But I do seem to get approached more so than, say, your very attorney-esque person who happens to be standing 10 feet away.
Today I had a dude roll up to me cackling with obvious mirth. I assume he then attempted to deliver the storyline that was amusing him so much, but I couldn't understand a thing he said. It was like he had a mouth full of cat litter - a crunchy indecipherable noise with an occasional spitting motion out of the corner of his mouth. I handed him the cigarette I had just lit up, told him I had to cruise and went back into the building. Hey - I figure it pays to be nice to these folk since chances are fairly good that I'll be joining their ranks one day.
June 5, 2005
None every materialized.
And yet, the WeatherChannel is still forecasting the potential for thunderstorms tonight.
I don't believe them at all anymore.
I either have to move or resign myself to never seeing another great weather upheaval again.
Or maybe it is me....my own internal electrical-magnetic infrastructure (Ha! you thought I was gonna say personality, didn't ya?) is keeping the cumulonimbus at bay and no matter where I move the same thing will happen.
Isn't that just like the typical American? To think the natural order of things is destined by their very presence? At least I have the ability to detect this in myself and can do some mental self-flagellation for some sort of penance.
I don't even like country music, but the song was "I'm the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A"
Why? I have no idea, but it was increasingly disturbing to me, for obvious reasons.
And then, I happened to look at the t-shirt I was wearing today. It is a very old t-shirt, which only reads: http://www.dealwithit.com
I always assumed that it was just funny since it is about 10 years old which dates back to before the internet was the wide open wasteland that it is today.
But for the first time, I thought I would check and see if that url resolves or not.
But actually, goes to http://www.gurl.com which is a site for older teenage females and, further, resolves to a page pertaining to dealing with unwanted sexual advances, factoids about the male physical (cough) attributes and other general information that your typical teenage girl might find mildly interesting.
I'm not sure why this would pile up today, but it seemed overly strange to me. After all, I am not the happiest girl in the whole U.S.A., nor am I curious about the rites of passage of your basic garden variety female teenager.
Thanks to whatever superior being exists that I am back to work (and some semblance of normalcy) tomorrow.
This was not good, since I knew I would need some of the items to be clean today and I certainly did not want to unload the thing and wash 'em by hand.
Knowing that regular dish soap would probably make a huge spewing bubble mess all over the kitchen if I tried that, I cast around for another alternative.
Laundry soap. Yeah.
About the same consistency as dishwasher soap. Contains bleach alternative for those nasty tomato based stains on the plastic wear. Worth a try, right?
My daughter raised an eyebrow at me as I came back from the laundry room with the jug in hand.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying laundry soap in the dishwasher. It will probably cause a cascade of soap bubbles to pile up all over the kitchen floor."
This caught her interest and she quickly ordered me to "Do It!".
And you know what? It worked. In fact, the glassware has less water-spot residue than usual. Things look to be as clean as always. The only thing missing is that 'fresh lemon scent' but I can live without that. I'm drinking coffee out of a mug that came out of the batch and there doesn't seem to be any lingering chemical taste. I suppose I'll know soon once I keel over, but in the meantime I'm tagging this one as a success.
June 3, 2005
And, for the most part, they are eminently enjoyable. For instance, 'Dogs of Babel', one of my favorites novels ever, came from that discarded collective.
Currently, I'm reading 'Bangkok Tattoo' by John Burdett which is, so far, quite excellent.
And I just ran across a line: one of the characters was talking about G.W.Bush and she says, "...he has to divide the world into good and evil because he can only count up to two."
I had to stop reading since I was sitting out on the deck laughing out loud bothering the neighbors.
Okay, so I had some beers and it probably seemed funnier than it really is, but really.....
When they left, he called "Nice to meet you, sir!"
I had to holler after them to "Don't call me sir!"
And then I wondered about that.
Formerly, men who reached my age accepted the moniker of 'sir' with grace and dignity. Like they had finally grown into the respectful salute this implies.
So why do I (and, I assume, most males of my generation) find some problem with being addressed as such?
It has to be part of the generation we grew up in: be young, don't be part of the 'establishment', etc.
I think I have to get over this, but at least some of the younger folk still adhere to the time respected norms. Good job, Adam...it is me that has a problem, here.
In other events, I had an interview today for the part time position I posted about earlier.
One word: grueling.
And, to be accepted, I have to go through at least a second interview, plus the urine test plus any other things they think up along the way to deter me from working there. I had to call Scee Elle immediately afterwards and do a primal scream in her ear just to get over it. Sorry about that, Scee, but it seemed necessary at the time!
It must be a good company, since they make it so difficult to get in there. So, I may have a new career looming far away from the world of computers, networks and whiny users! Whoo-Hoo!
June 2, 2005
But methinks it has taken its new role a mite overly seriously.
Got home today, turned the key off and nothing happened.
I know - you'd expect to turn the key on and have nothing happen, but this was the polar opposite.
An interesting dilemma to be sitting in your driveway and not be able to shut the automobile off.
So now it looks like I'll have to get several toggle switches and engage the ignition in a keyless fashion. At the rate this is going, I'll eventually have toggle switches stuck through anyplace that has room on the dash since I expect most of the electronics in the steering column to start dying soon. Blinker? Toggle. Wipers? Toggle.
The damn thing will look like a fighter jet. And still won't run right.
I know what you're saying: "why don't you just get a new car?"
'Cause it's personal now. I will not be thwarted by an inanimate rolling turd!
May 30, 2005
The weather cooperated, incredibly.
Guitarmanship lacked, but that was okay from all sides.
Thanks to all who added to the day.
Thanks to you who has been my friend, my supporter, my muse and my everything for so long.
You left before the jury decided that there was no metallic flavor in the pie...in fact, the jury gave their judgment with big grinning cool-whip covered faces.
I love you.
May 29, 2005
So, today, I need to walk up the street. Halfway there, it starts to rain.
At first, it was bothersome, but I soon rediscovered the joys of walking along with the smell of wet sidewalk and spring greenery hanging in the air. Eminently enjoyable.
Except the temperature dropped about 15 degrees at the same time. Not quite so pleasant as before, but, being the type of person who insists on perservering when smokes are in the offing, I plodded along.
On the way home, it started raining harder.
And then this guy pulls up alongside me wearing a polo shirt, white shorts and sandals riding a Schwinn single speed bike. He's breathing hard and starts to tell me that he rode all the way up to his bar just to find out it was closed. He said his name was Ernie. And he is openly and obviously leering at me! Now, this is a new one on me. Especially while walking along in the rain and cold. Luckily, I had a loose denim shirt on or he might have construed my chestal perkiness caused by the weather as an added invitation. I mean, I've had the look of interest, the nods and the flirting from both genders through the years, but I have never had a complete stranger approach me and ogle me so blatantly.
So, while he is raking me up and down with his hungry stare, I'm trying to steer the conversation into either a dead end or into something innocuous. No luck, so then I'm stuck trying to decide how to ditch this strangoid.
I mean,it isn't like he was all that creepy to look at or be around and he wasn't reaching over to try to fondle me or anything; it was just the penetrating stare.
"Oh, boy", I thought. "Is this another Dahmer or something?"
Anyway, he must have either taken the hint by my definite lack of interest or there was too much traffic on the road for him to do anything dastardly so he finally kicked up his pedals, called "See ya around" and pedalled off. I made sure he was down the road quite aways before turning onto my side street since I have no plans to see him around.
And the moral of the story, people, is that smoking will not only make you wet and cold, but will also attract the weirdos that are in the vicinity.
May 25, 2005
Totally without speech.
Another Seinfeld episode tonight that I have not seen before.
Did I just miss a whole season through year after year of reruns?
How is this possible?
And this one was pretty good.
Wonder if I can make this a trifecta tomorrow?
In other news updates, remember that dead fish along the sidewalk (if not, read several posts further down)?
Today it had a business card from a Realty company stuck underneath it. Not all the way, just the edge of the card was lodged under the back spine of the rotting aquatic beastie.
Did the card blow there and through some quirky circumstance get stuck that way? Or is this a new form of guerilla marketing from hungry real estate agents? If so, I doubt this method will do their bottom line much good...
Also, I drove to work with the sunroof open today. Beautiful morning.
Until I got into the parking lot where I normally park under a small tree growing at the edge of the macadam. A small bird took it upon itself at that moment to let loose with a dab of excrement which (you see this already, dontcha) fell through the damn sunroof right onto the lid of my travelmug of coffee.
Needless to say, I was caffeine lessened today.
May 24, 2005
Imagine my surprise tonight, then, to find an episode that I have never seen before!
I can now die complete.
Too bad it wasn't one of their best efforts...
May 23, 2005
And the questions are more ridiculous, personal and intense than any other job I have ever applied to! Keep in mind that this is a part time position for evenings and weekends and not exactly at a skill level that puts humankind in danger.
Here are some prime examples:
In the past five years, what is the total dollar amount of money or merchandise you have taken from all of your previous employers?
Have you been involved in any shoving matches or fistfights at work in the last two years?
Wow...does, say, 5 years ago count?
In previous jobs, how many days were you late for work in an average month?
So, are you looking for or eliminating potential employees?
In the past 30 days, have you used any illegal drug, such as LSD, marijuana, speed, crack, heroin, etc. while at work or away from work?
So, my question is: given the level of employment here, what are they looking for? Obviously, something above the 'dregs of society'? I dunno...it just seemed overly intrusive considering that it is unskilled labor that I was able to perform flawlessly 30 years ago.
Maybe I am just too sensitive....
May 21, 2005
The night evolved until we found ourselves at a dive bar that actually was playing some pretty good music.
One of the most hideous songs came on. "Islands in the Stream" - Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton.
I almost screamed like a girl.
I did plug my ears as best I could, told the folks I was with that I couldn't handle this and fled from the establishment. They were done drinking there anyway, so followed me out quickly. But it was unnerving that it took such a little thing to drive me out of a public venue (if this place could even be called a venue).
In other news....
There has been a dead fish and an uninflated black balloon on the sidewalk that I transverse everyday to get to work for a month now.
It has become somewhat reassuring that they are there everyday.
But still somewhat disturbing. Even the carrion fowl have neglected the free meal that the fish would provide. And the black balloon? Who the fuck knows?
I wonder daily how long these will stay there. Is there no sidewalk sweeping patrol that takes care of this stuff? Am I destined to slowly watch this fish deteriorate to nothingness? Should I pick up the balloon, stuff the fish into it and throw the whole baliwick away?
May 18, 2005
I am not participating. When queried as to why not, I respond with "Well, I smoke" and then shrug as if that should end the conversation. It usually does.
I did actually consider joining the pedalling throng but decided that without any preparation I would probably kick off from a heart attack halfway here and run off the bike path into the fringes of the lake where my body wouldn't be found until July.
But today, I saw the shallowest thing I have seen in a long time.
A guy pulled into the parking lot where I house my vehicle during the day, parked, pulled a bike out of the back of his Explorer and proceeded to nonchalantly crank his way the three blocks up the hill to downtown.
It is entirely possible that he was biking through downtown to somewhere else, but the circumstantial evidence shoots this theory down.
I'm not sure why. Resealing it is impossible and you can't shake it before pouring (well, you can, but it sloshes contents indiscriminately).
And there is one more most important downside to buying in this way: you need an old fashioned churchkey type can opener to access the interior of the container!
And I didn't have one anywhere in any of my utensil caches.
Oh, I had my swiss army knife which has a can opener on it, but it creates a small slit instead of the larger (and smoother pouring) triangular shaped puncture.
I finally had to go to the garage and rummage through the camping gear in a desperate gamble that I would have thrown one in there. Luckily, I had indeed had the forethought to do so.
Way too much activity and stress for early morn.
May 17, 2005
Tonight, I'm at the high school for my daughter's spring concert. 30 seconds after the concert was over, the fire alarms went off.
Let me just add here that it has been a very long time since I have had to deal with a fire drill in a primary education setting.
First thought was that the custodial staff pulled the alarm so they could get everyone out of there sooner so they could go home.
But the alarm didn't turn off; what an obnoxious noise it was, too! (I suppose it was designed that way, huh?)
Anyway, we all filed outta there just the way you are supposed to: no running or pushing, just calmly take yourself outside. Good thing the adults took at least that out of their own early years.
First sign of real trouble was a custodian holding open the doors to an alternative hallway yelling at people that they could also go that way, but to "Hurry up and get out of here!"
Once outside it was not long before the fire trucks showed up. And, I thought I was getting whiffs of smoke.
But I'm not sure what actually transpired...when I left, there were four fire trucks there and they showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.
Guess I have to watch the news tonight to find out.
My oldest might be happy, though, if she doesn't have school tomorrow; there, I imagine, might be the silver lining.
May 13, 2005
But after 2 this afternoon, I absolutely knew that I would wake up at some point with blocked QWERTY imprinted on my forehead.
I'll be lucky to make it through Comedy Central Stand Up this evening.
And here I was all set (this morning, anyway) to finally get to the studio to write a drum track or two for the new tunes.
Ah well....the weekend beckons.
May 11, 2005
So, I spend the next two hours in that parking lot ripping apart the dashboard trying to get at the starter switch. After being able to access it, I then can pull the wiring harness off the back of it and begin the journey called 'hot-wiring'. Audi doesn't make this easy.
Eventually, after another hour of cussing and sparking, I come up with the combination of jumper wires that finally gets it started. I feel like McGuiver! I drive home.
So now tonight, I have to cobble a starter button tapped into the electrical of the switch. The key will still be needed to get power to the right places (instead of the jumper wires), but then the button will crank the engine over.
This may actually fix my prior hard start problem as well. I can only hope for such a bonus...
May 9, 2005
But she is renting!
I applaud her efforts in making the most of her domain. And, tonight, she extolled the virtues of cutting away the large trees that threaten the very foundations of the apartment building where lives in.
But...when she walks, she doesn't swing her arms! There was a Seinfeld episode that latched onto this very thing which I always think of whenever I see her out in the yard. And it is disconcerting, to say the least.
It seems awkward...it seems unnatural.
How can a person walk with their arms hanging at their side like dead weight? Gawky - that's the word for it.
It takes all kinds in the world. I am accepting of them all (or, so I like to think), but....
May 6, 2005
So, I wait expectantly every winter for this time of the year - early spring when the cumulonimbus pile up to the stratosphere and release their magnificent energies for my personal enjoyment.
Imagine my disappointment annually, then, when these storms rage around me except in a radius of 2 miles centered on my residence!
Sure, it rains locally...sometimes very hard. And, from afar, I can hear the thunder and see the lightening creasing the darkening gloom.
But most of the time, the skies are much lighter here. Sometimes even (as tonight) sunny while the clouds bunched up in a circle around me.
Rainbows are popular in my skies. You'd think I was a CareBear or something. Sheesh.
May 5, 2005
As part of the festivities, we were supplying decadent chocolate from a local chocolatier and varied selections from a local wine shop. When I got to the venue, the sweets were there, but not the wine (much to my dismay!). Shortly, though, two cases of various vintages arrived and the theater patrons were anxiously awaiting the chance to slake their thirst.
But nobody thought to bring a corkscrew.
Luckily, I, as always, had my handy-dandy Swiss army knife in my pocket which has a small corkscrew as one of the required utensils. It is not, however, meant to be a serious means of broaching many bottles. I think I opened 22 bottles with it; not smoothly, either - to pop the cork with this thing, you have to twist it in, grasp the bottle with one hand as well as between your thighs and heave mightily. Even then, chances are good that the cork will break in half since the screw is much shorter than your standard garden variety suburban corkscrew - let alone the cork. I can categorically state that the new-fangled faux corks are much more difficult to pull!
But we got them all out and I am now lauded as a hero with my coworkers.
And, as an extra added bonus, the play was quite good. It had a bit of everything...some pathos, a lot of laughter ("You are my friend - I wouldn't care if you fuck your cat!"), a great leading lady who had the Mae West persona down cold ("When choosing between two evils, I pick the one I haven't tried yet") and even a boob shot a la Janet Jackson (though I think this wardrobe malfunction was a planned event).
All in all, a well rounded and enjoyable evening.
Not the best of things to discover first thing in the morning.
It made it through a lot over the last 3 years...being terrorized by the cat at times, living through the fire and being forced into a gay relationship due to the amorous attentions bestowed on it by the other male gerbil (since they are caged, does that mean I was condoning penitentiary love?).
I expect the other one to pine away and go soon now as well since his roommate/lover is deceased. And I refuse to procure a replacement...no more rodents!
May 4, 2005
He said he was from Kirby Vacuum and he held a small Dustbuster size vacuum in his hand.
Now, first of all, I didn't know that any vacuum manufacturers were still selling door to door. Secondly, Kirby, being the defacto standard of bulletproof sucking machinery didn't seem the sort of company that would deign to sell a wimpy little version of itself.
I politely declined the free shampoo (of the carpet, of course) and cleaning of one room to prove their worth and sent the amiable lad on his way.
Question: Could this possibly be legit?
Where I live, door-to-door political activists are expected and even encouraged. But the Jehovah's Witnesses and the Vacuum/Fuller Brush sales types are viewed down the end of the nose as being nuisancy at best.
Ah well, it's not like anyone could abscond with much if he was, indeed, casing the joint. Besides, I already broke into my place once today...what are the chances of a second break-in on the same day?
Today, I stop at home after work and gather some postal-bound documents. I know have to be quick to ensure that I make the last pickup time. I have the car key in my hand - it is separate and an extra dating from the days when I had to lock the car while running since it wouldn't restart easily - and I close the door to the apartment. As I hear the snick of the lock, I realize that my other keys are laying on the table just inside the door.
"Oh, damn!" I chide myself.
But, I have to run to get to the drop box, so I do.
Upon my return, I spent the next 30 minutes breaking into my place. I had the garage door opener, so I was able to access my domain that far. But the door to the house proper was locked.
Interestingly enough, I have 6 different key rings laying in my toolbox in the garage. So I tried them all and discovered that not only won't they open the door to the house, but I have absolutely no idea what any of these keys fit.
I finally was able to jimmy the door lock with a knife blade and get in.
If I was a professional, I would have been able to get into the place in about...oh....three seconds or so. I think I'd better investigate a better deadbolt or something.
I wait expectantly for this wretched week to be completed.
May 3, 2005
2) No matter how many times you hear paternal terms like 'Founding Fathers' or hear our current leader extolling his 'compassionate conservatism', the government doesn't really care anything about you, what your life is like or what kind of problems you face on a day to day basis.
3) All right, I actually already knew #2, but it has recently been reiterated.
4) Bad things don't always necessarily happen in threes. Quite often, they can erupt in a barrage of multiples of threes!
5) Audis might be a prime example of fine German engineering, but they are still a major bitch to work on.
6) ZabaSearch.com is an extremely frightening example of personal information retrieval gone mad.
7) Life dies...and then you suck.
May 2, 2005
So, with my private internalized audience sucking in its collective breath with disbelief, I actually put the entire palm of my left hand on the fucking burner. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been a problem, but I had neglected to turn the burner off in the first place!
I am such a complete moron. And now a moron without any distinguishing left palm print characteristics.
I should just be shot and hung up in the shed to dry.
Four hours later, a book is finished, no additional sleep was enjoyed and it is now time to arise.
This is going to be a very long day, indeed.
May 1, 2005
Anyway, while we were sitting there enjoying our libations and listening to the collection of Celtic musicians wail out their one and only song (which lasts for hours...musicians come and go but the song stays the same), two women walked in. They were obviously dressed for a night out so it was surprising that they walked into this place. They found seats at the bar and a couple minutes later my friend starts laughing and tells me to turn around and take a look.
Well, while sitting, one of the woman's jeans had ridden halfway down her ass. I realize that this is considered hip and trendy if the girl is wearing a thong and this one wasn't!! So much for high fashion in Madison.
We started joking and I interjected that maybe she was a plumber since she had the look down. We continued to comment (discretely, of course) and wound up the evening not too much later.
The problem is that the phrase 'Plumber in a thong' stuck in my head and I cannot clear it from rumbling around in my subconscious. If you say the words right, they make a pretty good syncopated rhythmic structure. So, of course, I had to write a songs about it.
But, I'm stuck. I got the first verse and the chorus done, but have nowhere to go with it from here. Meanwhile, the damn phrase is stuck like a phono needle on a scratched 45 in my lower cognitive functions.
I guess I have to keep working on it or go crazy trying.
April 30, 2005
They show a public domain horror (read: slasher) film that are consistently grade 'D' with horrible dialogue, bad acting, uninspiring locations and, in general, really fake blood. The only thing it has going for it, really, is that it is uncut (which they can do, I expect, due to its being on the local cable access channel).
But it has become a ritual for me to watch; waiting expectantly for what it might be.
And it is never even the classics such as 'The Blob' or 'The Swamp Thing'. It is always some flick that spent a maximum of 4 hours released to theatres before it was pulled by the producers who were embarrassed and were afraid of their reputations being impugned (thus making it harder to make millions down the road).
So why do I wait to watch this twaddle?
I'm not sure, but it is becoming more and more apparent to me that I need to get out more. Or at least turn my mind to more pursuits of stimuli rather than delve to the depths of inanity.
Speaking of which, though, I did try that tonight. I was revamping the donges website since it has needed a facelift for a long time. I ran into some problems with my server host. So, even though it looks good (or at least better than it did) locally, I have yet to determine if it functions at all publicly.
See, now....that's why I wait for the Saturday Night Frights. At least it is something consistently bad that I can count on week after week after week. Oooo...see ya later. I have just enough time to fill the wineglass and pop the popcorn before it starts. Turn down the lights back there! I am about to be in the midst of mediocrity...
April 29, 2005
And to smoke an entire pack of Dunhill menthols.
And to eat a 24oz. bag of Virginia peanuts.
Why, you may ask?
I dunno. It just seems like the thing to do at this point. I saw the psychiatrist today to confirm my medication needs and all seems good. I have a shitload of stuff to do tomorrow including going into work early.
But tonight? Nothing at all going on except reading and relaxing (and drinking and smoking).
The laundry will wait until the morn as will cleaning the abode...
An escape is what it is...no thoughts are able to crawl up through the tendrils of intoxication that would bother me overmuch.
And maybe...just maybe....I can draw on enough cognition after 5 or 6 to write a tune or two. Not that I will be able to read the scrawled lyrical notations when I finally emerge from my stupor.
Wish me luck.
Hopefully, I won't keep up a running monologue at various inebriated points throughout the night. If I do....I apologize now.
April 27, 2005
Several glasses of Tamas Barbera (stolen at a close out price for the last bottle!) along with 50mg of Trazodone hasn't helped.
The bathroom really needs cleaning, so I should take this opportunity to do that.
But I guess I'll be surfing porn all night...
Sometimes I procrastinate (some of you are shouting "No way!", I know). To the point that when I finally get around to doing something, it takes thrice the time it would have ordinarily taken. I offer balancing the checkbook as a prime example. Checks themselves wouldn't be so bad....it is the little receipts from the ATM machines and the checkcard purchases that create the problem. Do I have all of them? Can I even read the faded barely-legible-when-printed gas station pay at the pump slips of thermal paper? So, then, have to go online to check balances and each transaction to make sure that it is properly notated. I also spent over an hour shredding documents which, if I would have done it as I went through each day, wouldn't have taken any time at all. And then, with a cheap shredder, if you try to rush it, it gets jammed along the edges so there is time wasted digging out globs of curled up paper shreds that seem to have developed a patina of glue as soon as they hit the blades.
Sometimes I wish I wasn't such an idiot.
April 26, 2005
Now there is a way to tell what kind of office moron YOU are. Just take the test here.
This, strangely enough, worked perfectly for me. The type of office moron I am is:
I'll smoke you a kipper, because you'll be back for breakfast. You're the cult television show quoting, user account deleting, soap loathing IT Manager.
Something in your childhood has made you the way you are. You've been hired to provide a service to everyone else in the office - you make the computers run, and you make them run well. You've streamlined everything; you've removed all the viruses and installed all the firewalls. The only trouble - the only hole in your veneer of digital perfection - is the way you laugh at everyone.
If someone doesn't know UNIX, you laugh at them. If they lose their password, they laugh at them. If they visit a website using Microsoft Internet Explorer and their computer succumbs to an Internet worm, you laugh. Then you take a swig of your Coke, and with another hearty chuckle tell all your friends on IRC about the idiots you have to deal with.
Maybe it makes you feel better about yourself, although let's face it, you don't need help in that department. You're great, you. Fantastic like burning cool. If only those luddite office fools would let you play Unreal Tournament in peace.
Which Office Moron Are You?
Rum and Monkey: jamming your photocopier one tray at a time.
April 25, 2005
~ ~ ~
Recent favorite blog here. Very short, informative and to the point.
~ ~ ~
Just this morning it was discovered that I have lost 10 pounds sometime in the last month (I obviously don't check my weight very often). Came about by my putting on a pair of khaki casual trousers which promptly fell to my knees. Not that I am in shape by any stretch of the imagination, but something has changed. Strange, cause the jeans still seem to fit fine. I guess I have to start drinking more and get them calories up.
April 23, 2005
Oh, how I hate the full moon. The thoghts that flit unconclusively through my mind with no resolution, reminding me of the many times I have contemplated the position in the night sky...and my own postion in the world. No Venus am I, but I always seem to occupy a space somewhat to the west of the lunascape. At least in my own mind.
Oh, how I hate people who start their paragraphs with 'Oh'. Must be some sort of stupid poetic thingie or something....
April 22, 2005
April 21, 2005
Well, now there are better ones.
Read words of wisdom set to beautific landscapes.
Words such as:
"Doubt. In the battle between you and the world, bet on the world."
"Laziness. Success is a journey not a destination. So stop running."
"Meetings. None of us is as dumb as all of us."
And many many more.
Check 'em out here!
Unbelievable. And yet, believable.
Has our language been distorted so horrendously that learned scholars are unable to decipher cryptic gibberish from cryptic plausibility?
For full story, click here.
April 20, 2005
Designed to modify Earth's orbit, the populace of the world should jump on July 20, 2006 at 11:39:13 GMT.
For folk like me, in the midwest of the US, that is 5:39:13 - yep, 5:39 in the morning!
All you need is a concrete surface, a decent chronometer (plus the alarm clock to get your ass out of bed) and the motivation to jump.
Talk about a way to bring the disparate peoples of the globe together at last.
Together we can.....
For details, check here.
Just click on the link associated with the title of this entry, or click here.
If you have kept up with current events at all, you know that we are dangerously close to peak oil production and can expect some drastic changes in our society because of it. This web site documents all the further implications inherent with the decline of petroleum.
While he may be a doomsooth, it is difficult to not read through the information presented and not be sobered (or panicked!) by his perception of the challenges facing us in our all too near future.
DoomSooth...now there's a band name!
April 19, 2005
Interesting read on a different outlook on love. A lot I agree with....a lot, also, that I disagree with. Unfortunately, some that I want to disparage, but cannot 'cause I don't believe it and I'm an incurable romantic at heart.
But, different in it's take on life and love....
Great site, full of information on how You can beat "The Man" at his own game.
I plan on a full inspection of the site, myself....
In the words of Larry Roth:
"The debt and work cycle is an ingenious tool of subjugation. Make people think they need all these things, then they must have a job, and they give up control of their lives. It's as simple as that. We live in one of the most free countries in the world, but we fix it so we are not free at all. "
April 18, 2005
April 17, 2005
Another Sunday with nothing accomplished.
Not that I didn't have the time or the concern...I just didn't have the motivation.
Although I did a couple loads of laundry and also cleared out part of the garage for the perpetual automobile maintanence that is going to be a part of my life for the forseeable future, I spent the majority of the day sitting and reading.
Actually, not a bad way to spend a nice day....sitting on the deck, sipping on a malt and barley beverage and (to all outward appearances) vegetating.
I might be on to something...I feel relaxed, calm, placid and ready to start the week.
Now, if only I can kick the energy levels up a notch or two come tomorrow morning....
April 16, 2005
Incredibly, I won individual high score with a 201. I have never bowled like that before which was evidenced by the substantially lower score the second game. Our team (the kids, myself and one of the staff writers at Isthmus) won high team score as well. Got some nice gift certificates out of the deal.
April 15, 2005
Horrible cartoons that are inspired by actual Spam Subject Lines.
Hilarious, especially about 10 minutes later.
I finally got my taxes done last night and, as expected, I owe thousands.
However, I owe less than half of what I had been anticipating.
Strangely enough, even though I am still between the proverbial hard place and... um... er.... another hard place (?!) I feel much better.
Maybe it was the final accomplishment of getting the damn things done but I think it is the old feeling that 'things are never as bad as they seem'. Kinda like expecting to have your arm cut off in the alfalfa thresher and then only ending up losing both of your opposable thumbs instead.
April 13, 2005
I mean, if I can't come up with an original idea or two a day, I might as well just give up.
But that would be redundant...the giving up thingie, I mean. Done that already and, even though I don't like it now and wouldn't go back, at the time it was a pretty acceptable way to live. At that point in my life you coulda come up to me and whacked me alongside my head with an omelette pan and I would have bobbed and weaved my way back upright like a blow-up punching bag.
Most likely with a dopey smile on my face.
Not now, though. If you were to do the same thing to me now, I would crash to the floor taking as much breakable stuff down with me and, even if I was still conscious, I would not get back up. But you can bet I would have an attorney on your ass pretty quick for walloping me in the first place.
Since I can't win the lottery yet need large amounts of cash, that would be one way to help the coffers.
In fact, I might just start selling tickets to do just that. Now if I could just find that omelette pan...
April 12, 2005
Except for the 5% reference....
we have advanced a long way from the time Revolver came out:
Let me tell you how it will be
There's one for you, nineteen for me
Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
Should five per cent appear too small
Be thankful I don't take it all
Cause I'm the taxman, yeah I'm the taxman
If you drive a car, I'll tax the street,
If you try to sit, I'll tax your seat.
If you get too cold I'll tax the heat,
If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet.
Don't ask me what I want it for
If you don't want to pay some more
Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
Now my advice for those who die
Declare the pennies on your eyes
Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
And you're working for no one but me.
p.s. - anybody know a good tax attorney?
April 11, 2005
Doesn't work very well.
After a couple of UV's on the rocks, I thought it would be a good idea to take a walk...clear my head...figure out the future...fight the despondency...sweep up the cobwebs...tear loose from the doldrums...decide on a course of action....well, you get the idea.
Problem is, after a couple of vodkas, walks tend to get a bit downgraded. The wind was whipping up my hair, slapping it into my face with annoying regularity like sapling branches. The streetlights in these parts are sparse, so there were only occasional pools of dim light like gas lanterns in a Jack The Ripper biographical 1940's vintage B&W flick. I found myself wandering aimlessly (let's not even go into the metaphor about my own life that phrase brings to mind) and decided I should just wander on home.
Took me a while to get my bearings, but I finally made it. Thought about just laying on the roof of the car in the driveway, but figured that would only hurt it's starting abilities in the morning so I declined the self-invitation.
Sure...and they say that a brisk walk does good for both mental and physical health.
I suppose they never took vodka into account.....
I want this title for myself.
Imagine...being elected by your peers (most of whom, it seems, have at least as much chance to win) to be crowned the biggest moron in your burg.
I think the guys who knocked themselves out with their car doors actually should have shared the winning crown, but I wasn't asked for my vote.
April 10, 2005
And, of course, I awoke at 4:00am to the rampant rampage of redundant ruminations floating endlessly through my cerebral cortex. The short movements into an almost somnabulant state thereafter actually consisted of very vibrant dreams.
I wouldn't think that a single 24 hour period would be enough to totally disrupt the medication's course...should be more of a gradual in-out sort of thing. But I guess I am wrong in that.
So, stoke me up, Mr. Pharmacist! I am coming home again!
at least for now....more's the pity......
April 9, 2005
Like MadLibs, but with the sole purpose of developing your own personal evil plan! Enjoy and revel in the dark side! Bwahahahahaha...
Your objective is simple: Soul Accumulation.
Your motive is a little bit more complex: Hatred for all mankind
To begin your plan, you must first seduce a wealthy heiress. This will cause the world to sense a grave disturbance in the force, unsettled by your arrival. Who is this ripe bastard? Where did they come from? And why do they look so good as a brain in a jar?
Next, you must seize control of the Moon (ooh, tides!). This will all be done from a island of mu, a mysterious place of unrivaled dark glory. Upon seeing this, the world will gibber like madmen, as countless hordes of computer programmers hasten to do your every bidding.
Finally, you must reveal to the world your great supernatural forces, bringing about an end to sanity. Your name shall become synonymous with the spice girls, and no man will ever again dare sabotage your music career. Everyone will bow before your extraordinary charisma, and the world will have no choice but to restore your credit rating.
April 8, 2005
April 5, 2005
Started fine this morning.
Failed to start after work.
Had to get a jump to get home, but, once I got home and turned it off and attempted to restart it, it fired up just fine.
I believe it is possessed.
Or, at the very least, cantankerous.
It is the main vehicle now, so I'd better get used to it. At least I now have something to do on weekends again! WooHoo!
April 4, 2005
I don't know why; it might be just from lazing around all day yesterday or it might be a start again with some changes. I am hopeful for the latter so I am going to try to continue working on that premise and help make it happen.
I need to be doing more than the bare minimum while spending the rest of my non-employer related time staring stupidly at the monitor screen or glancing glumly at an unplayed (and probably out of tune) guitar or being morose just 'cause it feels better than any alternative I can think of.
This isn't a life. I'm not even sure it qualifies as an existence, unless rotted stumps can really be said to exist.
So I shall grab this small boon and try to run with it. It is only a beginning and yet...it is a beginning.
i don't, since i had already read both of them.
it was such a gorgeous day and i should have been raking leaves to the curb or working on the vehicle. i did, however, sit outside to read much of the time. oooooo!
perhaps it was what i was needing but i think it was, instead, a means of escaping without resorting to a tumbler full of vodka at 10 in the morning.
certainly better for me with no hangover this morning but i do hurt from just sitting so long. ah well...always a trade-off.
or maybe....just maybe....it was due to the time change. yeah.
i knew if i looked hard enough, i could find a rationalization that would be easy to live with!
April 2, 2005
It would have been nice to have the money to procure more tickets to more of these fantastic obscure films.
Actually, it would have been nice to just have the ass to be able to sit through more of these films comfortably!
It was great. Last night, there was "Godfather of Green Bay" through which I laughed harder than I have for a very long time, especially in a darkened theatre. After that was a deeply disturbing, morose film, "It's all gone Pete Tong" about a DJ who loses his hearing, falls into all the depravities of life and finally uses his situation to finally find himself. Good flick, except that it became a feel good movie with a happy ending. And I was looking for something to cheer me up!
Today was a collection of short films with connections to Wisconsin. I took the kids to it and, although there were a couple that were disappointing, most of them were funny or thought provoking or just strange.
A good time had by all.
March 31, 2005
2) 70 degrees F on Tuesday. Thunderstorms last night. 40 degrees today.
3) The question as to why, when the power went out last night, did only some of my clocks begin their incessant blinking and demanding to be reset while others took no notice of the loss of sustenance (and no, they had no battery backup).
4) The mild doppelbock hangover I have after too many of them while attempting to work on taxes last night. Yes, I know - taxes and alcohol don't mix. But you haven't seen my taxes. And I'm hoping I can use it as a ploy: "I forgot to fill in that line due to inebriation". Doubtful that it will work. The irs has no sense of humour.
March 29, 2005
Time for Capital Brewery's Blonde Doppelbock. Only comes around once a year, but...good god - is it worth it!
For those of you not in the South Central Wisconsin area, I can only say.....Good! More for me! Nyah, Nyah, Nyah!
Especially since it is such a short lived season, I have to try to stock up so my stash lasts at least until July 4th. Anything after that, and it starts to get a bit old and skunky. So, you can imagine, it is a carefully thought out and planned purchasing event. The spreadsheets are legion from January onwards. Until, finally, now. The sweet taste of liquor store conquest.
Ahhhh...the tastes of summer. In March.
March 28, 2005
Do they really think people would be stupid enough to take this little tiny pill and shove it up their ass? Or crush it into powder and snort it? Or -
Oh...wait.....I guess I can see their point, after all.
A letter telling me that I was already Pre-Approved to borrow money. Even in my current catatonic state, I laughed uproariously. Which doesn't happen too often lately.
Did these folk even bother to check my credit report?
I'm sure the interest was probably at 847% or something outrageous, but still....
I'm almost tempted to take them up on it so I can shortly drag them into the impending legal battles as well just to wake them up.
I will now begin what I set out to do initially - to try to capture the idiocies of the human condition and use my naturally cynical outlook for the appropriate commentary.
While it won't be any more productive with regard to the grand scheme of things, it should prove to be a tad bit more fun!
And any emotional outpourings will be relegated either to songwriting or to my therapist (sometimes both the same thing), where they belonged in the first place.
p.s. still don't have the guydonges.com web site up yet...argh!
March 24, 2005
Ah, well....after being up then down so many times, it is kinda in the nature of The Ear Of Donges to be in flux.
And, considering events of late, it is conforming to my personality as well.
There's a sodden thought....
March 19, 2005
Sometimes I can surprise myself with my visionary abilities, since I stocked up yesterday on all the ingredients to make my world famous Pennsylvania style Chicken Noodle Soup. So I don't have to run out in the external nasty environment to make it. Already simmering for the last hour, I plan on being completely sickened by the smell of bubbling broth by dinnertime.
Thankfully, I have a kid who really enjoys the stuff and is looking forward to turning a friend onto it at their sleepover here tonight. Might be a bad move, since this friend's parents own a restaurant to which I will inevitably be compared. Hmmm...better go add some more sage to the mix....
March 18, 2005
Bene Gesserit Litany Against Fear
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
March 17, 2005
March 16, 2005
Actually, once sleep finally came about 2 hours after I went to bed, I slept all the way through until the alarm. No ruminating at 3:30, which is a relief. Obsessing over trivia in the early morning hours is far worse, to my mind, than having a Sheena Easton song running endlessly in a mental loop...and that has happened.
And another day of adventure and chaos dawns...
March 14, 2005
It is distilled four times so it is very smooth. It is carbon filtered. It was a gold medal winner at the 2004 San Fransisco World Spirits Competition. It is made in a sister state, so you can support the somewhat local economy. It is made out of corn instead of the more expensive potatoes or barley, so it helps midwest farmers and is cheaper to produce. Which leads me to the number one reason why I like this vodka:
It is just as good as Absolut or Skyy, but it costs almost exactly half the price.
But I guess I should qualify it after all.
What I meant to say was "Don't you hate people that enthusiastically ask "How was your weekend?
Let's just say, fer instance, that you just had a really bad weekend. A weekend that is in the running for one of the worst. Okay, the ultimate weekend in suck. The worst, shittiest and most disgustingly vile weekend that you have ever had or ever hope to encounter in your all-too-brief span of existence on this global cesspool we live on.
You know, one of those.
How do you answer? Do you go into a rant like the above? Absolutely not, 'cause they don't want to hear it. And if they do want to hear it, you shouldn't be talking to them anyway, the creepy nosy little bastards.
In fact, they don't even want to hear "not so good" or "crappy" or even a mild "could have been better". What they want is for you to exude positronic emotions and gush about how great it was and all the things you did and how wonderful life is. Probably so they can live vicariously through you since their weekend was also for crap.
But of course you can't do that (see above paragraph on how bad your weekend actually was) so you are reduced to mono-syllabic utterances like "eh" while wobbling your hand idiotically in front of your face. Or a quick gloss-over: "Okay, how was yours?". Which is actually the best way to do it since it puts the onus back on them so they can scramble around trying to decide how best to answer you!
March 13, 2005
© 2005 - Guy Donges
The speedometer was approaching 65 and the target was still a mile up the road. This was gonna be easy. After all, he'd been slowly killing himself for years, hadn't he? The cigarettes which he couldn't quit, the booze, the unprotected sex. One quick moment into the rock wall and it would be finally over. He'd even made sure the wall was far enough off the highway so that any debris would never be able to make it back to impede the progress or safety of travelers behind. Considerate asshole.
Five years is a long time but it sure didn't feel like it at this point. Five years, when compressed into this incomprehensible emotional morass he felt himself in now was a blink. A flash. A flash – that was a good one. How 'bout a boom? Or a smack? Ha!
The 'wet duck syndrome' is what everyone called his ability to let adversity roll off his back. “Nothing ever seems to get you down” they would always say. It was a point of pride for him that he was sooo mature and sooo above the lowly mortals who let things like anger, sadness and despair get in the way of their happy life. When, actually, all he really did was ignore. Anger? Repress it. Sadness? A happy face on the world made the day better. The divorce so long ago was proof of that. So stoic, nobody ever knew how much of a failure he felt. Instead, it was portrayed as a positive moving-on-with-the-next-phase-of-life event. Idiot.
70 now. At this rate he should be able to hit at least 95 before impact. Glancing down at the speedometer, he noticed that his seatbelt was on. Talk about force of habit. That would be fitting, though, wouldn't it? End up maimed but alive. Shithead. He unbuckled the belt and ignored the warning dinging from under the dash. Should have pulled that fuse along with the one for the airbag.
He turned up the radio to drown out the irritating chime. Talk radio. Change stations. Commercials. Change stations. Country. Seemed to fit the mood, but change stations quickly. Although he disliked country music, he thought the stereotype of it being downer music was wrong. Rock had its own share of tuneage celebrating the idiocies of being human. Should have burned a cd of favorites to bring along. Finally settled on the classic rock station, even though he was sick to death of most of their playlist. Had been sick of them 20 years ago and they hadn't gotten better with time. That was okay. Neither had he.
The job loss had been harder to take. Economy tanking. Not able to move because of the kids. Can't find anything. Suck it up and work as a contractor for the company that just fired your ass. No security. No benefits. But at least it was money coming in. Should have hired a financial manager to ensure that he took enough out for the taxes. The IRS has no sense of humor.
Hitting 75. His palms were getting sweaty. Should have brought a napkin or something. He wiped the moisture off on his jeans leg. Knees shaking. Should have taken a Valium or something but it had been years since he knew anyone who sold anything illicit. A couple of shots would have done it, but he hadn't driven after alcohol since the DUI. Another self-deprecating snort.
The fire hadn't helped his mood or his finances any. Sure, he had renter's insurance – it was cheap enough – but there are always things that slip through the cracks that you have to replace. Not that his belongings meant all that much except for the guitars. Still living like a bohemian after all these years. Mismatched furniture, cheap shelving units. It would have been better if the place had just burned to the ground and he could have just collected the insurance money and started over. But smoke damage is cleanable, so he got most of the same crap back. Worse shape than initially, to be sure, since vinyl veneered pressboard entertainment centers don't take kindly to more than one assembly/disassembly process. At least it hadn't collapsed under its own weight yet.
Wow. Up to 82. Who'd have thought that this little four-cylinder could handle this? At least the hounding creditors wouldn't be getting this back unless they had one helluva hot glue gun. Turns out that buying this had been another mistake although it had seemed reasonable at the time. Looked like he had found a job but it had a 90 minute commute; it wouldn't have worked to drive that old gas hog van at 3 miles per gallon. Too bad the job fell through after all. Should have waited for final confirmation.
The final straw was the breakup with the great love of his life. What finally ended it was not a huge dramatic scene where he could see himself as the victim again. Instead, it was the slow slipping away of love and togetherness. So preoccupied with the day to day problems, he had forgotten (again) what was truly important. A walking lesson in repetitive history. But god, how he loved her. The highs were so high and the lows so non-existent that it proved to him the true existence of soul mates. He should have been more attentive. But now after so much time he wasn't sure anymore if he loved her or the idea of loving her and the remembrance of the incredible happiness high. Was it just clinging to what once was? The wet duck would have known what to do but it had died a while back of overindulgence. In any event, they had gone through this too many times for her ever to trust his stability again. Shit, even he couldn't trust his stability anymore.
90 now. The granite surface looming overhead sheared straight and plumb to the ground. Would be a clean impact. The force should throw him through the windshield and flatten his skull on the smooth sheer rock.
91 Wonder if it will hurt?
92 and going up. But what if he doesn't get thrown but instead is impaled on the steering column to wait in agony for the police to get there? What if there really is an omnipotent superior being and this is not his day to die? What if reincarnation really is true and a lingering vegetative state is somehow tied up in what he's supposed to learn in life this time around? What if reincarnation really is true and he comes back as a salamander? Should have left a note.
A note? Didn't leave a note. How will anyone have any idea what drove him to this final act of desperation? And she'll never know how much he loved her and will always believe that it was the ending of them that caused this. When it was really the culmination of many things over many years. Can't do this now. Can fix this. Can get past the current problems and get life back on track again.
I Can't Fucking Do This!
He slammed on the brakes just as the road curved to the left; just where he had planned on plunging through to the bluff. As the highway guard rail rushed up he twisted the wheel to try to force the impact to the side of the car and hopefully stay on the road. For a brief moment, it almost worked but then the natural force of physics took over and started the car skidding then breaking free and tumbling end over end spewing bits of body and glass all over the tar-filled-crack decorated asphalt surface. Funny what is noticed at the weirdest of times, but as he careened over two thankfully empty lanes into the boulder strewn median strip, he read the word 'Lost?' written sometime in tar by some orange vested maintenance clown.
* * * *
Patrolman Caulkins was writing up the accident report and looked up to see the paramedics push the gurney with the zipped up body bag to the back of the ambulance. It had taken 3 hours to cut the poor sap loose from the tangled mess that used to be a small SUV. Why the airbags didn't deploy was for someone else to figure out. No seat belts, either. Why he hadn't been thrown out of the vehicle was anybody's guess. Might have been better this time if he would have been 'cause he had had no chance inside.
He took a bite of his tuna on wheat and chewed thoughtfully. For sure the dude had been going way too fast. But the curve wasn't all that sharp. He probably had had a lot to live for. The guy shoulda been more careful, that's all.
He took the last bite of sandwich, put the cruiser in gear and slowly pulled away behind the ambulance.