It has been a long time since we met, my Tender Lumplings, but as we have talked about before this blogging thing is harder than you would think. Then add in the busy bustle of the holidays and it is even harder. But never fear that I have forgotten you. I'll aways return. I'm like Frosty the Snowman. Remember what Santa said about him. "He may go away for nearly a year at a time and take the form of spring and summer rain. But you can be sure that when a good December wind blows in, he'll be back"
So anyway a few things have happened since we met last. The previously mentioned holidays for one or two things. Thanksgiving was nice and yummy. Very filling. And then the mad rush to Christmas. It seemed to blow by so fast this year. One minute I'm eating turkey and the next we are wadding up the old wrapping paper and getting ready to take the tree down. Still it was a good time and a good holiday.
There have been some things I wanted to talk about here. A few points that I wanted to make. But now I don't remember some of them and I really don't feel like getting into anything too deep. I mostly just wanted to assure my Lumplings that their humble host and narrator is here. If we don't meet again until the new year then let me say "Happy New Year" And next year I will try to be more regular with my posts.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Re-Inventing the harpsichord
I hope all my Tender Lumplings had a wonderful Halloween. I love that holiday. And I'm not talking about the costumes and candy and trick or treating. That is all silly stuff created for kids and I can frankly do with out kids. I like to think of Halloween in more or a sophisticated way. I like the Latino "Day of the Dead" ideas. Not evil, but a time for people to look at the darker side of themselves. It is a very complex time.
I didn't do much this Halloween. It was a quiet holiday and I kind of liked it that way. Seems to be a lot of stuff going on right now and I really just want a break. I won't bore you with the details but things are quite crazy right now. I don't know what to focus on and what to put on hold. I can't even decide what this entry of the blog is going to be about.
I recently heard the story of a man who's house was left untouched after a tornado passed through his town. His entire neighborhood was gone but his house stood, pristine, among the rubble. No doubt he celebrated this. He laughed and shouted and thanked God for sparing his home. A week later another storm comes and his house is struck by lightening twice. Between the fire and the water the house is destroyed.
Now, what are we to take from this? It seems almost too strange to be true. Could it be nature correcting an earlier mistake? Perhaps his house was supposed to have fallen to the tornado and was now being taken by another means to restore balance. Or was it Karma? He celebrated his good fortune in the face of his neighbor's loss. Was this new tragedy payback? He thanked God for saving his home from the tornado, so was he now blaming Satan for sending the lightening?
I do not believe in fate or destiny. I could never agree when my Mother would say that something would happen if "it was meant to be". But I don't think anyone can deny that we, as humans, just animals on this rock, are basically helpless to the overwhelming power of nature. And God, if he truly pays any attention to what happens here, having control over nature, is obviously of such magnificent power, cannot be understood. How can we even fathom with our puny minds something so vast and awesome as God. It would be like trying to explain the idea of the universe, or multiple universes, to and ant. We are so ignorant and insignificant that we can never expect to know the truth of what is really going on. Or what is reality. We cannot experience anything outside of our own minds and thus cannot know what exist outside our minds.
Philip K. Dick was not insane. His reality was as valid as any one's. Just because he was the only one to see or hear something doesn't mean it was any less real. The monsters may, according to others, only exist in your head but that makes then just as real as anything else you experience. And they can do just as much damage.
Well, my Tender Lumplings, I'm not sure how I got off on that subject but there you go. Sleep well, if you can, and I'll see you soon.
I didn't do much this Halloween. It was a quiet holiday and I kind of liked it that way. Seems to be a lot of stuff going on right now and I really just want a break. I won't bore you with the details but things are quite crazy right now. I don't know what to focus on and what to put on hold. I can't even decide what this entry of the blog is going to be about.
I recently heard the story of a man who's house was left untouched after a tornado passed through his town. His entire neighborhood was gone but his house stood, pristine, among the rubble. No doubt he celebrated this. He laughed and shouted and thanked God for sparing his home. A week later another storm comes and his house is struck by lightening twice. Between the fire and the water the house is destroyed.
Now, what are we to take from this? It seems almost too strange to be true. Could it be nature correcting an earlier mistake? Perhaps his house was supposed to have fallen to the tornado and was now being taken by another means to restore balance. Or was it Karma? He celebrated his good fortune in the face of his neighbor's loss. Was this new tragedy payback? He thanked God for saving his home from the tornado, so was he now blaming Satan for sending the lightening?
I do not believe in fate or destiny. I could never agree when my Mother would say that something would happen if "it was meant to be". But I don't think anyone can deny that we, as humans, just animals on this rock, are basically helpless to the overwhelming power of nature. And God, if he truly pays any attention to what happens here, having control over nature, is obviously of such magnificent power, cannot be understood. How can we even fathom with our puny minds something so vast and awesome as God. It would be like trying to explain the idea of the universe, or multiple universes, to and ant. We are so ignorant and insignificant that we can never expect to know the truth of what is really going on. Or what is reality. We cannot experience anything outside of our own minds and thus cannot know what exist outside our minds.
Philip K. Dick was not insane. His reality was as valid as any one's. Just because he was the only one to see or hear something doesn't mean it was any less real. The monsters may, according to others, only exist in your head but that makes then just as real as anything else you experience. And they can do just as much damage.
Well, my Tender Lumplings, I'm not sure how I got off on that subject but there you go. Sleep well, if you can, and I'll see you soon.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Return of the Power Trio
Blogging is hard work. Don't let anyone tell you any different. It's not like working on a road crew or hanging steel building a skyscraper. It's not as hard as being a plumber or a cop. But trying to come up with something to write about everyday, or even every few days, is pretty tough. Unless you are one of those losers who blogs everything they do no matter how trivial and mundane. But let's face it, that is pointless and a total waste of time. If all you have to do is sit there and write about who your Alphabits spelled out a rude and amusing word this morning or the funny face your cat made, well then you should just turn in your human race membership card and go away.
I'm not saying that anything I've put in this blog is a mind blowing revelation. I'm not in the business of shifting paradigms or redefining genres. I don't even know what most of those words mean.
Anyway, My Tender Lumplings, it has been a while since we last met. A lot has happened and much of it was worthy of it's own blog entry but I didn't manage to compose a single line. So here I will give a brief note to three of the top happenings:
The Dreams: Over several nights I dreamt of hauntings, towns that don't exist, a wonderful song that I couldn't remember when I awoke and various other strange things. The one that bothered me the most was the song. It was a really great song and would be a hit. If I could remember it.
The Car: I don't know if I've mentioned my project that I'm working on. I am trying to bring a 1986 Fiero back from the edge of life. It works but not at all well. I tried to drive it for the first time the other day and it wouldn't even back out of the drive.
The Craft: The holidays are coming and I am trying to develop some lovely items to sell to make some cash to buy more lovely items. I am devilishly clever and extremely talented, if I do say, so I'm sure it will all be a great success. I'm also selling beachfront property on the moon.
Until we meet again.
I'm not saying that anything I've put in this blog is a mind blowing revelation. I'm not in the business of shifting paradigms or redefining genres. I don't even know what most of those words mean.
Anyway, My Tender Lumplings, it has been a while since we last met. A lot has happened and much of it was worthy of it's own blog entry but I didn't manage to compose a single line. So here I will give a brief note to three of the top happenings:
The Dreams: Over several nights I dreamt of hauntings, towns that don't exist, a wonderful song that I couldn't remember when I awoke and various other strange things. The one that bothered me the most was the song. It was a really great song and would be a hit. If I could remember it.
The Car: I don't know if I've mentioned my project that I'm working on. I am trying to bring a 1986 Fiero back from the edge of life. It works but not at all well. I tried to drive it for the first time the other day and it wouldn't even back out of the drive.
The Craft: The holidays are coming and I am trying to develop some lovely items to sell to make some cash to buy more lovely items. I am devilishly clever and extremely talented, if I do say, so I'm sure it will all be a great success. I'm also selling beachfront property on the moon.
Until we meet again.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Do Not Opperate Heavy Machinery
Presented now a (very) brief overview of the operation of the Ditch Witch SK-650 mini skid steer.
The SK-650 is powered by a small diesel engine which both drives the treads and the hydraulic pump. To start the engine insert the key in the top right side of the control panel. Switch to the ON position and then rotate clockwise to the START position. Release the key when the engine starts. Do not hold the key in the START position for more than 20 seconds if the engine does not engage.
Driving the SK-650 is by means of two levers on the left side of the control panel. The left lever controls the left tread and the right lever controls the right tread. Pushing both forward moves the machine forward. Pull back to move in reverse. Moving only the left lever forward moves the machine to the right. Moving only the right lever moves the machine to the left. Moving both levers together in varying degrees allows the user to drive the machine fluidly.
The SK-650's main tool attachment is the scoop/loader. The control for this tool is a single joystick on the right side of the control panel. Pushing the joystick forward lowers the scoop. Pulling the joystick back raises the scoop. Push to the right to rotate the scoop bucket up. Push to the left to rotate the bucket down (empty).
When the work is complete rotate the key counter-clockwise to power down the machine.
The SK-650 is powered by a small diesel engine which both drives the treads and the hydraulic pump. To start the engine insert the key in the top right side of the control panel. Switch to the ON position and then rotate clockwise to the START position. Release the key when the engine starts. Do not hold the key in the START position for more than 20 seconds if the engine does not engage.
Driving the SK-650 is by means of two levers on the left side of the control panel. The left lever controls the left tread and the right lever controls the right tread. Pushing both forward moves the machine forward. Pull back to move in reverse. Moving only the left lever forward moves the machine to the right. Moving only the right lever moves the machine to the left. Moving both levers together in varying degrees allows the user to drive the machine fluidly.
The SK-650's main tool attachment is the scoop/loader. The control for this tool is a single joystick on the right side of the control panel. Pushing the joystick forward lowers the scoop. Pulling the joystick back raises the scoop. Push to the right to rotate the scoop bucket up. Push to the left to rotate the bucket down (empty).
When the work is complete rotate the key counter-clockwise to power down the machine.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Beware of Angels with knives.
I often dream of the same places over and over. I have for years. They never change and only a few of them have anything to do with real places. I've given some of them names. Among the usual places are The Motel, The Top Of The Mountain, The Forest, and a rather odd version of my hometown. I say odd because it is laid out just like my hometown but it is different in one major respect: there are people there. Oh, there are people in my hometown but not like they are in the dreams. The dream version of my town is bustling with activity. There are stores downtown, alot of them, and the people walk the streets going into the shops. The movie theater is still a movie theater and shows all the big movies. Down the street near the bridge is a really great toy store full of wonders. The opposite end of the street is mostly restaurants, not empty houses and one old Methodist church like in the real world.
Some day I'll draw out a map of the dream version of my hometown but that is for another day. Right now what I wanted to talk about is another of the places I dream about: The Top Of The Mountain.
Let me begin by saying this: nothing good ever happens on The Top Of The Mountain. The basic setting is an area at the top of some mountain possibly in a national park. There is a large parking area and an overlook. All pretty normal and harmless. Then there is the building. It looks like most of the little building one finds in parks. The sort of place that might have an information desk, some displays of local wildlife, a park map and maybe even a little theater showing a 6 minute movie about whatever civil war battle was fought near by. Sometimes, depending on the dream, this place has all those things too. But not always. When it does you can be sure the map will never show "you are here" and never, never watch the movie.
There is one feature of the building that is always present no matter what else is there and that is The Cave. Just inside the door of the building there is a ramp that goes down to the left. I assume this is to allow easy access for the wheelchair bound. There is a railing on one side and the ramp turns to the right after a bit. This is the entrance to The Cave. It is a sort of display or diorama. It is a natural opening in the side of the mountain and inside they have set up a scene depicting native American life or something. I'm not really sure because I can never really look directly into The Cave. I have learned, or at least the dream version of me has learned, not to even go down there. But there is something in The Cave. It is not good. It's large and white and can destroy anything it contacts. I don't think even your soul could escape it.
Last night I visited The Top Of The Mountain and the building. I was there with some friends and we were making some sort of movie or video. The building housed some shops and a small cafe. The ramp was there but I stayed away. When we were done with our movie and packing up, one of the crew, a man named Angel, pulled out a box cutter and started stabbing my friends. I ran out and saw another friend coming toward me from the parking lot. As he turned to go into the building I saw he had already been stabbed. His back was soaked with blood. I found my car and fled. A rather tamed night considering some things that have happened on The Top Of The Mountain.
Nothing good happens on The Top Of The Mountain.
Pray, my Tender Lumplings, that I never tell you about The Motel.
Some day I'll draw out a map of the dream version of my hometown but that is for another day. Right now what I wanted to talk about is another of the places I dream about: The Top Of The Mountain.
Let me begin by saying this: nothing good ever happens on The Top Of The Mountain. The basic setting is an area at the top of some mountain possibly in a national park. There is a large parking area and an overlook. All pretty normal and harmless. Then there is the building. It looks like most of the little building one finds in parks. The sort of place that might have an information desk, some displays of local wildlife, a park map and maybe even a little theater showing a 6 minute movie about whatever civil war battle was fought near by. Sometimes, depending on the dream, this place has all those things too. But not always. When it does you can be sure the map will never show "you are here" and never, never watch the movie.
There is one feature of the building that is always present no matter what else is there and that is The Cave. Just inside the door of the building there is a ramp that goes down to the left. I assume this is to allow easy access for the wheelchair bound. There is a railing on one side and the ramp turns to the right after a bit. This is the entrance to The Cave. It is a sort of display or diorama. It is a natural opening in the side of the mountain and inside they have set up a scene depicting native American life or something. I'm not really sure because I can never really look directly into The Cave. I have learned, or at least the dream version of me has learned, not to even go down there. But there is something in The Cave. It is not good. It's large and white and can destroy anything it contacts. I don't think even your soul could escape it.
Last night I visited The Top Of The Mountain and the building. I was there with some friends and we were making some sort of movie or video. The building housed some shops and a small cafe. The ramp was there but I stayed away. When we were done with our movie and packing up, one of the crew, a man named Angel, pulled out a box cutter and started stabbing my friends. I ran out and saw another friend coming toward me from the parking lot. As he turned to go into the building I saw he had already been stabbed. His back was soaked with blood. I found my car and fled. A rather tamed night considering some things that have happened on The Top Of The Mountain.
Nothing good happens on The Top Of The Mountain.
Pray, my Tender Lumplings, that I never tell you about The Motel.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Frog in the Fireplace
It is strange the way a small thing can upset your entire life. A butterfly flaps it wings and all that. My weekend was going along pretty well even if it wouldn't stop raining. We got a lot of work done. Our old house is almost ready to go back on the market. I even was having what may have been the beginnings of a spiritual awakening or sorts. But then it happened.
I was sleeping somewhat peacefully. I had nodded off after reading for a while and my lovely wife was still up. Then she woke me with these words: "there is a frog in the fireplace". She had noticed the cat staring into the fireplace and then she saw why. A little tree frog stuck to the inside of the glass doors on the fireplace. It was so surreal. Especially to someone who had just regained consciousness.
So I had to get a plastic cup and scoop the little guy up and take him out. Everything turned out fine. But my sense of the world and how it works is forever damaged. I can't even look at the fireplace anymore with out wondering what sort or creature might crawl out of it next. I mean really, a frog? In the fireplace? How does that happen? What will it be next? I'll open the oven and find a giraffe. It wouldn't surprise me any less.
All in all not a bad weekend. It was way too short. It really flew by. And it was weird. Very, very weird. You know me, my Tender Lumplings, and that I am no stranger to weird. I love it. I thrive on it. But I cannot stress this enough: THERE WAS A FROG IN MY FIREPLACE!!!!
I was sleeping somewhat peacefully. I had nodded off after reading for a while and my lovely wife was still up. Then she woke me with these words: "there is a frog in the fireplace". She had noticed the cat staring into the fireplace and then she saw why. A little tree frog stuck to the inside of the glass doors on the fireplace. It was so surreal. Especially to someone who had just regained consciousness.
So I had to get a plastic cup and scoop the little guy up and take him out. Everything turned out fine. But my sense of the world and how it works is forever damaged. I can't even look at the fireplace anymore with out wondering what sort or creature might crawl out of it next. I mean really, a frog? In the fireplace? How does that happen? What will it be next? I'll open the oven and find a giraffe. It wouldn't surprise me any less.
All in all not a bad weekend. It was way too short. It really flew by. And it was weird. Very, very weird. You know me, my Tender Lumplings, and that I am no stranger to weird. I love it. I thrive on it. But I cannot stress this enough: THERE WAS A FROG IN MY FIREPLACE!!!!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
What would Harry Caray do?
I want a baseball. I don't know why. I don't play baseball. I don't even really like it. I find watching it on TV, or in person, about as thrilling as watching water drip onto a sponge. But still about 11:30 last night it hit me that I would like to have a baseball. A nice new white ball with bright red stitching. The brand doesn't matter although seeing "Rawlings" written across the sweet spot in blue script would be nice. I just want to hold it. Maybe toss it up in the air a few times. I wouldn't take it outside where it might get dirty. That would ruin it. I would toss it back and forth between my hands. Or sit it on the table next to me while I read.
I want a baseball.
I want a baseball.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Why
I ask you all now, why? And I hope you, my Tender Lumplings, will answer me honestly and without hesitation or fear of retribution. These are some things that just make me ponder why. Not really pet peeves, though they do aggravate me upon occasion. But mostly just things I don't understand.
Why, when you meet someone in a hallway or at a door, do you say that person's name? Even if it is some one you see everyday. Or may have even seen only a few moments before. Are we reminding that person of their name? Are we reminding ourselves? Or, most likely, are we assuring that person that we know their name? Why? I know Bob ( or Tom or Susan or whatever) and they know I know them. I don't need to say "Hey, Bob" every time I see Bob. I don't understand.
Why, if I'm holding a door open for someone, do they put out their hand to hold the door open. If I'm holding it open, I'm not gonna let go while they are halfway through. It is very disrespectful of someone to do that. Now if I'm going through a door and hold it briefly while some one else is coming through behind me, then they can, and should, grab the door. But if I'm just standing there holding the door, do not grab the door. I don't understand.
Ok, last one.
Why can't humans realize that love is good, war is bad and we are all in this together. And living together with tolerance, sympathy, understanding and rationality is the only way to get through.
Ok, so now, one more thing. Someone told me that reading my blog scared them. I'd be lying to say this doesn't please me at least a little. But it was never my intention to frighten anyone. I also can't promise it won't happen again. Just stick with me and we may all learn something.
Why, when you meet someone in a hallway or at a door, do you say that person's name? Even if it is some one you see everyday. Or may have even seen only a few moments before. Are we reminding that person of their name? Are we reminding ourselves? Or, most likely, are we assuring that person that we know their name? Why? I know Bob ( or Tom or Susan or whatever) and they know I know them. I don't need to say "Hey, Bob" every time I see Bob. I don't understand.
Why, if I'm holding a door open for someone, do they put out their hand to hold the door open. If I'm holding it open, I'm not gonna let go while they are halfway through. It is very disrespectful of someone to do that. Now if I'm going through a door and hold it briefly while some one else is coming through behind me, then they can, and should, grab the door. But if I'm just standing there holding the door, do not grab the door. I don't understand.
Ok, last one.
Why can't humans realize that love is good, war is bad and we are all in this together. And living together with tolerance, sympathy, understanding and rationality is the only way to get through.
Ok, so now, one more thing. Someone told me that reading my blog scared them. I'd be lying to say this doesn't please me at least a little. But it was never my intention to frighten anyone. I also can't promise it won't happen again. Just stick with me and we may all learn something.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Emotions In Motion
Well, my Tender Lumplings, I, your humble narrator, had some bad business to deal with. My uncle passed away after being ill for quite some time. I hadn't seen him in a long long time. He was quite a character and the family and many many other will miss him.
No, generally, I don't do funerals. I just send a card and flowers and that's that. But in this case I attempted to make an exception. There were several cousins and 2nd cousins and old family friends I had not seen for even longer than it had been since I saw my uncle. Some of his kids had moved north years ago. So I went to see them and be seen. I was nice, but strange.
I was standing there talking to someone I hadn't seen since she was about 10 or 11. She is now the mother of two young boys. And I realized that I didn't really know any of these people. They are family and I love them immensely but I just don't know who they are. And I know for a fact that they have no clue as to who I am.
I didn't really grow up with them. They lived in another town and we saw each other a few times a year but back then it wasn't a big deal. But so much has happened in the last couple of decades. I am not the person I was back then. There really is no reason for me to think they have changed as much as I have but I can't know they haven't.
Take my cousin I mentioned above. Last time I saw her she was about 10 years old and, as far as i know, just a regular kid. Now she is 28 with two kids and a few tattoos. I don't know what happened in those 18 years. Does she like country music? Did she watch the Olympics? I don't know. And the same thing goes for all of them. It's just a strange feeling to love someone because they are family but otherwise have very little emotion toward them because you don't know them. How does that work? It's not like they are strangers, I've known them for forty years. But then again they are. How can you love someone that you don't even know if you like?
I would like to know them. Under different circumstances I would have loved to talk to them and find out about their lives now. But that is hard to do in the depressing air of a wake. Maybe now that a certain amount of contact has been established I can start learning. The beauty of email and the Internet and things like Facebook is how they make miles disappear.
So, I left before the actual funeral service. I just couldn't be there for that. The only other person there that I felt I still knew, other than my Mom and Dad and Brother, was my uncle. And I couldn't stand the thought of watching him be put in the ground. I hate that. I never want that done with me someday. I left and came home to ponder all this and my changing views of how I relate to others. How I effect them and how I am affected. Is it bad that I'm growing more and more detached from just about every other human? There are maybe 5 people I care anything about and of those only about 3 I want to be around.
Of course you, my Tender Lumplings, are the exception. I love you all with a boundless emotion that knows no bounds. Well, it wouldn't be boundless otherwise now would it?
No, generally, I don't do funerals. I just send a card and flowers and that's that. But in this case I attempted to make an exception. There were several cousins and 2nd cousins and old family friends I had not seen for even longer than it had been since I saw my uncle. Some of his kids had moved north years ago. So I went to see them and be seen. I was nice, but strange.
I was standing there talking to someone I hadn't seen since she was about 10 or 11. She is now the mother of two young boys. And I realized that I didn't really know any of these people. They are family and I love them immensely but I just don't know who they are. And I know for a fact that they have no clue as to who I am.
I didn't really grow up with them. They lived in another town and we saw each other a few times a year but back then it wasn't a big deal. But so much has happened in the last couple of decades. I am not the person I was back then. There really is no reason for me to think they have changed as much as I have but I can't know they haven't.
Take my cousin I mentioned above. Last time I saw her she was about 10 years old and, as far as i know, just a regular kid. Now she is 28 with two kids and a few tattoos. I don't know what happened in those 18 years. Does she like country music? Did she watch the Olympics? I don't know. And the same thing goes for all of them. It's just a strange feeling to love someone because they are family but otherwise have very little emotion toward them because you don't know them. How does that work? It's not like they are strangers, I've known them for forty years. But then again they are. How can you love someone that you don't even know if you like?
I would like to know them. Under different circumstances I would have loved to talk to them and find out about their lives now. But that is hard to do in the depressing air of a wake. Maybe now that a certain amount of contact has been established I can start learning. The beauty of email and the Internet and things like Facebook is how they make miles disappear.
So, I left before the actual funeral service. I just couldn't be there for that. The only other person there that I felt I still knew, other than my Mom and Dad and Brother, was my uncle. And I couldn't stand the thought of watching him be put in the ground. I hate that. I never want that done with me someday. I left and came home to ponder all this and my changing views of how I relate to others. How I effect them and how I am affected. Is it bad that I'm growing more and more detached from just about every other human? There are maybe 5 people I care anything about and of those only about 3 I want to be around.
Of course you, my Tender Lumplings, are the exception. I love you all with a boundless emotion that knows no bounds. Well, it wouldn't be boundless otherwise now would it?
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Jesus Tree
Well, a lot has happened since we last spoke, my Tender Lumplings. I have been to the heights of mans achievements and felt the bitter sting of defeat. I have been weightless with euphoria and struck motionless by the pain of despair. What could have taken me through such extremes of the human condition? How did I come to experience the aphelion and perihelion of life's orbit? This I cannot answer other than to say it is but the whim of the Gods.
In the last week or so I have successfully repaired my car but broke another bit of it in the process. This other bit I also fixed but only after some time spent pissed about having broken it in the first place. I have spent fairly substantial amounts of money recently and have only a little to show for it. I have been laid low by physical pain that both invigorated and debilitated me.
And the other night while walking my dog I saw a face in the bark of a tree in my backyard. The play of light and shadow upon the rough surface of the giant silver maple took on the form of the human visage. At first I couldn't tell if it was the face of Jesus or the Unibomber. I was really hoping for Jesus, mostly because of the potential for monetary gain. "Come one and all! For the mere price of only five American dollars you can see the amazing Jesus Tree!" T-Shirt sales alone would be unbelievable.
But sadly it was not to be. The face really didn't look like anyone. Just a face with no bottom lip and a lazy eye. Not like the swirling pattern in my bathroom tile that clearly displays the face of Adolf Hitler. Or the snarling ape that looked back at me from the faux burl walnut trim on the dash of my Mom's Delta 88 Olds.
I can't even begin to describe the dreams of late. My slumbering mind has out done itself with the images and themes it has been producing. There was one in which I truly believe I did travel, physically, to another location. If my wife had rolled over at that moment she would have found the left side of the bed empty. Well, there may have been a cat there but not me. I could feel the grass between my fingers. I was there. I had to be. At least in that one it was a nice place to be. I usually wouldn't wish my worst enemy into the places I dream about. I have been dreaming those sort of dream alot lately too. But I'm used to it now. Mostly. But I never know what is coming next.
So now I'll just sit back and wait for that package to arrive. It is going to be fun.
In the last week or so I have successfully repaired my car but broke another bit of it in the process. This other bit I also fixed but only after some time spent pissed about having broken it in the first place. I have spent fairly substantial amounts of money recently and have only a little to show for it. I have been laid low by physical pain that both invigorated and debilitated me.
And the other night while walking my dog I saw a face in the bark of a tree in my backyard. The play of light and shadow upon the rough surface of the giant silver maple took on the form of the human visage. At first I couldn't tell if it was the face of Jesus or the Unibomber. I was really hoping for Jesus, mostly because of the potential for monetary gain. "Come one and all! For the mere price of only five American dollars you can see the amazing Jesus Tree!" T-Shirt sales alone would be unbelievable.
But sadly it was not to be. The face really didn't look like anyone. Just a face with no bottom lip and a lazy eye. Not like the swirling pattern in my bathroom tile that clearly displays the face of Adolf Hitler. Or the snarling ape that looked back at me from the faux burl walnut trim on the dash of my Mom's Delta 88 Olds.
I can't even begin to describe the dreams of late. My slumbering mind has out done itself with the images and themes it has been producing. There was one in which I truly believe I did travel, physically, to another location. If my wife had rolled over at that moment she would have found the left side of the bed empty. Well, there may have been a cat there but not me. I could feel the grass between my fingers. I was there. I had to be. At least in that one it was a nice place to be. I usually wouldn't wish my worst enemy into the places I dream about. I have been dreaming those sort of dream alot lately too. But I'm used to it now. Mostly. But I never know what is coming next.
So now I'll just sit back and wait for that package to arrive. It is going to be fun.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Doo Wacka Doo
Sometimes I wish there were more than just one of me. I have all these ideas of things I want to do but the problem is A: not enough time to do them and 2: I'm kind of lazy. So I need either more time or some extra me's to help. I've looked into the time thing. It's really hard to get around or at least bend the laws of science and nature. It can be done with enough power but that is a whole other problem. Generating energy is simple but extremely laborious and time consuming. I direct you back to point 2 above, I'm lazy and anything laborious and time consuming is pretty much right out.
So how do you make more time with out working at it? First you have to ask this question: Do you want more time or just better use of the available time? I'm not sure how to make more time. Can you insert extra minutes? If so, how many? One new minute per existing five? Sure, that would work. An extra 12 minutes an hour would be great. But that would take some pondering to figure out.
Slowing down time would work only if you didn't slow down with it. If you could work at full speed while the rest of existence passed in half or quarter time. You could get a lot done but only if you can get past the lure of using this power to become a super hero or villain. Guess which one I would choose.
That leaves me with only the option of create more copies of me to get things done. I figure if one lazy me can get some stuff done over time, then a whole bunch should get a lot done. The technology is there to do this. The big problem is I have a suspicion that I'm really not gonna like these guys. I love me, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I would be very fond of another me. And would it be suicide if I killed one of them?
What it all boils down to is that I have a bunch of stuff I want to do and I don't have the time or will to get it done. I just have to get my ass up and get going.
So how do you make more time with out working at it? First you have to ask this question: Do you want more time or just better use of the available time? I'm not sure how to make more time. Can you insert extra minutes? If so, how many? One new minute per existing five? Sure, that would work. An extra 12 minutes an hour would be great. But that would take some pondering to figure out.
Slowing down time would work only if you didn't slow down with it. If you could work at full speed while the rest of existence passed in half or quarter time. You could get a lot done but only if you can get past the lure of using this power to become a super hero or villain. Guess which one I would choose.
That leaves me with only the option of create more copies of me to get things done. I figure if one lazy me can get some stuff done over time, then a whole bunch should get a lot done. The technology is there to do this. The big problem is I have a suspicion that I'm really not gonna like these guys. I love me, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I would be very fond of another me. And would it be suicide if I killed one of them?
What it all boils down to is that I have a bunch of stuff I want to do and I don't have the time or will to get it done. I just have to get my ass up and get going.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Stings and Gasoline
Well, it’s been several days since we last met. I bet you were all worried. “What happen?” you were saying. “Where is he? I hope he is ok.” I can just see you now, huddled together at the coffee shop. Your rushed whispers passing over the table like the hot winds of the Sahara, swirling the foam on the top of your half-caf non-fat latte. But never you fear my tender lumplings for I am quite fine. Merely busy with the trappings of life.
I must confess I have had some misfortune befall me. Whilst mowing my quite capacious lawn I trod on a nest of despicable little beasts know at the common Eastern Yellowjacket. An especially foul little hornet who felt the need to sting me for disturbing them. You can be assured of there imminent demise. With in hours I will fight them again and, in the words of the Dark Lord himself they “will loose, everything.”
So, other than that nasty business most things have been fine. You find me healthy and mostly happy. I could complain but what good could come of it. Until we meet again…
I must confess I have had some misfortune befall me. Whilst mowing my quite capacious lawn I trod on a nest of despicable little beasts know at the common Eastern Yellowjacket. An especially foul little hornet who felt the need to sting me for disturbing them. You can be assured of there imminent demise. With in hours I will fight them again and, in the words of the Dark Lord himself they “will loose, everything.”
So, other than that nasty business most things have been fine. You find me healthy and mostly happy. I could complain but what good could come of it. Until we meet again…
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Raindrops Keep Falling On My Dog
My dog doesn't like to do her "business" in the rain. It's not that she minds getting wet. No, she would stand there in the rain and get soaked to the bone and not flinch. There is something else going on. When it is raining, even just a light sprinkle, she will just stand there and stare off into the distance. She is mesmerized by the sound or something. I just don't get it. You can lead her to her favorite spot in the yard and she still will not pee. We always end up coming back in the house soaked having not done anything. If it rains for several days in a row, she will hold it. It's truly infuriating and amazing at the same time.
It's basic biology. You have to do that stuff. Regardless of being a dog, human, or three toed sloth, you have to do what you have to do. It's what makes us all equal. Movie star, dope, astronaut, Pope. Christian, Jew, Taoist, it doesn't matter. Everybody has to drop trou every now and then.
Except my dog. She's some kind of super being. All Hail Piper!
It's basic biology. You have to do that stuff. Regardless of being a dog, human, or three toed sloth, you have to do what you have to do. It's what makes us all equal. Movie star, dope, astronaut, Pope. Christian, Jew, Taoist, it doesn't matter. Everybody has to drop trou every now and then.
Except my dog. She's some kind of super being. All Hail Piper!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
One diet Cuba Libra please
One of the things I wanted to do with this blog is share some of the strange dreams I have. I mean why should I be the only one to suffer through these nightly freak shows. I should spread my psychoses with the rest of you . And, maybe, you will start to get an idea of why I am the way I am.
This being said, the topic of this entry is the dream I had last night. Now it is very mild compared to some of the visions I've had. I don't want to scare you too bad right off the bat. I won't shove you into the deep end of my parasomnistic pool. I can barely tread those waters myself.
DREAM #1
I am at the home in which I grew up. A quaint little house in a tiny mountain town. My family is there. We have just had dinner and my Dad is in the kitchen doing the dishes with help from our guest: the late Cuban sonero Ibrahim Ferrer. They are talking about nothing in particular while Dad washes and Don Ferrer is drying. (note: I use the latino term of respect "Don" to refer to Senor Ferrer, but my Dad's given name is also Don.) I am in my bedroom trying to get it ready for Senor Ferrer who will be sleeping there. I will be on the couch in the living room. There is a problem though. Senor Ferrer can't sleep without a pink nightlight in the room. And our nightlight has a blown bulb. My Mom is near panic and I am worried the mini mart, the only store open at this hour in our small town, will not have a replacement bulb.
Then I woke up.
Make of these dreams what you will. I have long ago stopped trying to decipher them. It would may me even more insane.
This being said, the topic of this entry is the dream I had last night. Now it is very mild compared to some of the visions I've had. I don't want to scare you too bad right off the bat. I won't shove you into the deep end of my parasomnistic pool. I can barely tread those waters myself.
DREAM #1
I am at the home in which I grew up. A quaint little house in a tiny mountain town. My family is there. We have just had dinner and my Dad is in the kitchen doing the dishes with help from our guest: the late Cuban sonero Ibrahim Ferrer. They are talking about nothing in particular while Dad washes and Don Ferrer is drying. (note: I use the latino term of respect "Don" to refer to Senor Ferrer, but my Dad's given name is also Don.) I am in my bedroom trying to get it ready for Senor Ferrer who will be sleeping there. I will be on the couch in the living room. There is a problem though. Senor Ferrer can't sleep without a pink nightlight in the room. And our nightlight has a blown bulb. My Mom is near panic and I am worried the mini mart, the only store open at this hour in our small town, will not have a replacement bulb.
Then I woke up.
Make of these dreams what you will. I have long ago stopped trying to decipher them. It would may me even more insane.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Almost...but not quite.
This weekend was strange. I had a few things I wanted to get done. Then it decided it was gonna rain, so I had to put some of them off. But then it didn't rain. So I did the things anyway. I thought I had it all done correctly but then something went wrong.
The rain caused other problems I still haven't fixed. And the stuff I did do made me sore and when you add to that the rain making my sinus's hurt, well, I had to stay home from work today. And didn't get anything done.
So, the whole point of all this boils down to this: I really wanted to take my Fiero for a trip around the block. That's not so much. Just a couple of minutes out on the "open" road. But it didn't happen. Oh, well, maybe soon.
I think it's time to write a song.
The rain caused other problems I still haven't fixed. And the stuff I did do made me sore and when you add to that the rain making my sinus's hurt, well, I had to stay home from work today. And didn't get anything done.
So, the whole point of all this boils down to this: I really wanted to take my Fiero for a trip around the block. That's not so much. Just a couple of minutes out on the "open" road. But it didn't happen. Oh, well, maybe soon.
I think it's time to write a song.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Thursday
"It must be Thursday. I've never gotten the hang of Thursdays." - Arthur Dent
Very well spoken Mr. Dent Arthur Dent. I feel the same way. Thursday has always been that odd day that is not quite Friday but much closer than Wednesday. Most days have a definite purpose. Mondays suck. Wednesdays are hump day. Friday is what everyone looks forward too. And the weekends are just great. But Tuesday and Thursday, well, they are just sort of there. I guess Tuesday is the worst. At least on a Thursday you are close enough to the weekend that you can have a glimmer of hope. It's not Friday but you can see it just over there.
I went to see the movie MOON last night. I highly recommend it.
Very well spoken Mr. Dent Arthur Dent. I feel the same way. Thursday has always been that odd day that is not quite Friday but much closer than Wednesday. Most days have a definite purpose. Mondays suck. Wednesdays are hump day. Friday is what everyone looks forward too. And the weekends are just great. But Tuesday and Thursday, well, they are just sort of there. I guess Tuesday is the worst. At least on a Thursday you are close enough to the weekend that you can have a glimmer of hope. It's not Friday but you can see it just over there.
I went to see the movie MOON last night. I highly recommend it.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Mowing
I've said it before and I'll say it again: as long as there are teenagers in the world a gown man should never have to mow his own yard. Why else do people have kids anyway if not to provide them with cheap labor. And if you don't have a teenager of your own you can rent one from a neighbor. Just be careful asking to borrow some guy's 16 year old daughter. This plan works better when it kid is a male but even then you should be careful how you word the request. Still about 20 bucks a week (and a cheap nudie magazine will get you a month's worth of service) is a small price to pay to not have to fight the ever losing battle of yard work.
Most of you who know me well are already acquainted with how I feel about being outdoors. I'm sure to devote an entire rant to that subject someday but for now just know I am not a fan of nature. If the gods had wanted man to live out side then caves would not been invented. So the whole idea of spending hours keeping my lawn immaculate is ridiculous. I mow when I have to but that is it. To me the yard is just someplace for the dog to poop. It's not a showpiece or a garden spot. It is a toilet.
On a more happy note, I got all the new brakes for my Fiero. So I can finally start putting those on this weekend and maybe even drive it around the block. I'm happy.
Most of you who know me well are already acquainted with how I feel about being outdoors. I'm sure to devote an entire rant to that subject someday but for now just know I am not a fan of nature. If the gods had wanted man to live out side then caves would not been invented. So the whole idea of spending hours keeping my lawn immaculate is ridiculous. I mow when I have to but that is it. To me the yard is just someplace for the dog to poop. It's not a showpiece or a garden spot. It is a toilet.
On a more happy note, I got all the new brakes for my Fiero. So I can finally start putting those on this weekend and maybe even drive it around the block. I'm happy.
Monday, July 20, 2009
A night in the Kingsbury Run
In the mid 1930's there was a series of murders in Cleveland, Ohio. Most of the bodies were discovered in an area known as the Kingsbury Run. It was a terrible place, befitting the terrible things that happened there. The killer was never caught and due to the nasty things he did to his victims he was nicknamed "The Torso Killer".
Despite the dark subject that inspired the title of this blog. I'll try not to make my entries too dreary. But I can't promise anything.
s
Despite the dark subject that inspired the title of this blog. I'll try not to make my entries too dreary. But I can't promise anything.
s
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