Friday, January 25, 2008
italia
You were wondering why Italy is the birthplace of opera and is known for being, shall we say, dramatic?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
special edition for javier, c. 1999
In the inescapable boredom of the Underwest, it was not unusual for college friends and I to spend a little more time than one can be proud about attempting to antagonize one another. Case in point:
THE TWELVE STEPS OF Catholics Anonymous (CA)
Step 1. We admitted we were powerless over Catholicism - that our lives had become un-enjoyable.
Step 2: We came to believe that a Power more reasonable than the Holy Catholic Church could restore us to sanity.
Step 3: We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of anyone but our priests, as we neither understand them, nor they us.
Step 4: We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Step 5: We admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being that our inventories were on a short list as we have few internalized morals.
Step 6: We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character, but decided being empty inside was too scary. Instead, we asked God to clarify contemporary definitions of sin.
Step 7: We humbly asked Him to remove these shortcomings, and replace them with more logical and fascinating ones.
Step 8: We made a list of all the persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all, even women and homosexuals.
Step 9: We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, even in public, except when to do so would injure them or others, carefully avoiding our former behaviors based on the notion that injuries brought by amends should always be indirect so no blame may be laid.
Step 10: We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it, and did not flog ourselves (even mentally) or seek absolution.
Step 11: We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understand him, praying only for knowledge of his will and the power to carry that out.
Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
"The only requirement for membership in CA is the desire to stop being Catholic."
THE TWELVE STEPS OF Catholics Anonymous (CA)
Step 1. We admitted we were powerless over Catholicism - that our lives had become un-enjoyable.
Step 2: We came to believe that a Power more reasonable than the Holy Catholic Church could restore us to sanity.
Step 3: We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of anyone but our priests, as we neither understand them, nor they us.
Step 4: We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Step 5: We admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being that our inventories were on a short list as we have few internalized morals.
Step 6: We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character, but decided being empty inside was too scary. Instead, we asked God to clarify contemporary definitions of sin.
Step 7: We humbly asked Him to remove these shortcomings, and replace them with more logical and fascinating ones.
Step 8: We made a list of all the persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all, even women and homosexuals.
Step 9: We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, even in public, except when to do so would injure them or others, carefully avoiding our former behaviors based on the notion that injuries brought by amends should always be indirect so no blame may be laid.
Step 10: We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it, and did not flog ourselves (even mentally) or seek absolution.
Step 11: We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understand him, praying only for knowledge of his will and the power to carry that out.
Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
"The only requirement for membership in CA is the desire to stop being Catholic."
way ahead of pirate curve, c.1999
Below is the Pirate Checklist. Check all those that apply:
- I find myself trying to make others walk planks.
- Raping and pillaging sounds ho-hum to me.
- ‘Argh’ finds its way into my vocabulary on a daily basis.
- I do not have friends, but hardies and maties.
- All I value is buried.
- ‘Bootie’ has multiple meanings for me, all of which are pleasing.
- All of my maps have at least one large, hand-drawn X on them.
- I keep dying my chin blue in hopes of it appearing as such a hued beard.
- Peg-legs and patched eyes are aesthetically appealing, even if the two combined on one individual seem like overkill.
- My best friend is a foul-mouthed parrot.
- When I look at clouds, I often see skulls, treasure chests, and the Queen’s Navy.
- I’ve fantasized about slicing that braggart in Old Bartelby’s Pub.
- I’m actually responsible for Queequeg’s tattoos.
- Men who don’t have both ears pierced I know to be both poor seamen and faint of heart.
- The people I care most about I caution to, “Be sure to have plenty o’ lime, or yew’ll be gettin’ the scurvy.”
- My Freudian slips usually involve large metal hooks, flesh, and gold.
- People who don’t make lewd jokes about shivering ‘timbers’ are no friends o’ moin.
- Land pisses me off.
leaving L.A. trip for Grandma Josie's funeral: found file
And here's what was apparently going through my mind as I sat dumbstruck at the first grandmother death:
The strangest thing about looking in the mirror isn’t frequently being disgruntled by our appearance, or that we may on occasion even find ourselves quite – almost unbelievably – beautiful.
Instead, the strange thing is looking at the face, the head with its bigness, seeing we are not children or featureless expressions of our true inner-selves, but contained. And, in fact, these containers can seem to bare no earthly semblance whatsoever to the _____ we carry. Not a one of them. Even looking down at my own body, it is not uncommon for me to be still amazed I have breasts, muscles, and this adult body – completely simply by way of having been born, and continuing.
The strangest thing about looking in the mirror isn’t frequently being disgruntled by our appearance, or that we may on occasion even find ourselves quite – almost unbelievably – beautiful.
Instead, the strange thing is looking at the face, the head with its bigness, seeing we are not children or featureless expressions of our true inner-selves, but contained. And, in fact, these containers can seem to bare no earthly semblance whatsoever to the _____ we carry. Not a one of them. Even looking down at my own body, it is not uncommon for me to be still amazed I have breasts, muscles, and this adult body – completely simply by way of having been born, and continuing.
summer rain '06: found file
As I'm transferring a bit around here for my smashing new laptop, whose name remains tbd, this was found:
I feel absolutely today like I should be at sea, head wrapped in seal skin, staring out over a grayness so vast it’s difficult to see where sea and sky separate and the whole of the world seems in danger of evaporation. I should be out, solo, on a Viking ship, red sails full in the wind – one haunted with the floating smirks of those who delivered the first or the best hugs, curses, lullabies, tricks. Waves would slap the sides of the ship and we’d sit listening, content yet wondering, eager for the end of time - eager to see all that will be before the sun runs out.
I feel absolutely today like I should be at sea, head wrapped in seal skin, staring out over a grayness so vast it’s difficult to see where sea and sky separate and the whole of the world seems in danger of evaporation. I should be out, solo, on a Viking ship, red sails full in the wind – one haunted with the floating smirks of those who delivered the first or the best hugs, curses, lullabies, tricks. Waves would slap the sides of the ship and we’d sit listening, content yet wondering, eager for the end of time - eager to see all that will be before the sun runs out.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
feelings - the real
Two new emotionally tailored terms have been developed today in exchanges with dear Arielski:
- Underwest - n. American region commonly referred to as The Midwest, but better conveying personal sentiments. Ex: I am flying back to the Underwest for sheer love of Mother. (Germ-Anglish - Untervest.)
- Budslothers - n. largest population of Americans, drinkers of Budweiser, better conveying personal sentiments; non-appreciators of any poetry aside from that of Maya Angelou, de-valuers of history; people comfortable with any of Bush's policies, ever, yet likely still more intelligent than Bush yet known to Bushites as, "[his] awesome, totally expendable population." (See also: military state, Ancient Rome, Third Reich.)
-ump Day
That's a capital hyphen.
Our coat closet has B.O. - or, more likely, someone who's placed a coat inside does. I went to grab my cellphone from my coat pocket, and it was so rank in there I may have swooned. If I didn't, then the fumes altered my brain chemistry enough that I distinctly thought I experienced a swoon.
I daren't attempt a rescue. Does anyone know the rate of stench dissipation in a closed space? (It's not air-tight. There's a good inch at the bottom of the door, and likely a 1/4" at the top, with periodic airings via door openings.) Should I just skip lunch?
But hey, I also found my favorite unrecognized female historical figure of the week. Ya, she's Mary Anning. She dealt in dinosaurs. There be love.
There also be terror in the horrible aesthetic sense of almost every other website 'dedicated' to her. (Note: tributes are more effective, people, when they aren't visually repugnant in their pastel-ity. Jesus, did someone blow up Barbie?)(OK, that would be awesome. If you did, then here's some Wiggle Room [trial version].)
Our coat closet has B.O. - or, more likely, someone who's placed a coat inside does. I went to grab my cellphone from my coat pocket, and it was so rank in there I may have swooned. If I didn't, then the fumes altered my brain chemistry enough that I distinctly thought I experienced a swoon.
I daren't attempt a rescue. Does anyone know the rate of stench dissipation in a closed space? (It's not air-tight. There's a good inch at the bottom of the door, and likely a 1/4" at the top, with periodic airings via door openings.) Should I just skip lunch?
But hey, I also found my favorite unrecognized female historical figure of the week. Ya, she's Mary Anning. She dealt in dinosaurs. There be love.
There also be terror in the horrible aesthetic sense of almost every other website 'dedicated' to her. (Note: tributes are more effective, people, when they aren't visually repugnant in their pastel-ity. Jesus, did someone blow up Barbie?)(OK, that would be awesome. If you did, then here's some Wiggle Room [trial version].)
atypical morning
After waking from a dream where my mother turns out to have decided not to tell me that I had a baby when I was three years old, the morning didn't seem off to a particularly stellar start.
But then I got a seat on the subway. That's right - on the L, in the morning rush. I know! (Granted, this was after two people pushing me out of the way to get on the first train, which never has happened, despite the fact that I'd been there longer, having just missed the previous train. Where is your Commuter Etiquette, W'burgers? Where is your shame?) But the seat. Yes.
Getting off the train, there was an unusually high number of cops supervising the platform. I looked at the one by the nearest stairs, doing a quick body language check to see if I should perhaps consider another path, and got a bit more reassurance than expected or necessary.
Cop: An angel walks before me.
Me: Dude. [Begins skirting a bit in approach to stairs.]
Cop: You look like, "They know not what they do."
Me: You've got me there. [And we have stairs.]
I'm assuming the fact that I was bundled nella mode 'Inuit' left only my face as a definable shape, and that most of that bundling was eggshell/feathery white, had more to do with this impression of said officer's. Wings? Halo? Under my Northface, and I do mean my North Face.
Then crossing the street, an old man was almost pacing me despite pulling a massive wheeled suitcase. The peripheral eyeball noticed he had, however, gotten stuck on the curb. The deeply (self-)ingrained from childhood "Help those who are weaker" kicked in, so I halted and turned. Eye contact - point blank. Up came his suitcase, but he was so pleased to see someone had been willing to help him, that I was showered with praise. I walked off translating all this into a whelming sentiment of, "Being not a complete asshole made his day. That's nice."
And then I came into work.
But then I got a seat on the subway. That's right - on the L, in the morning rush. I know! (Granted, this was after two people pushing me out of the way to get on the first train, which never has happened, despite the fact that I'd been there longer, having just missed the previous train. Where is your Commuter Etiquette, W'burgers? Where is your shame?) But the seat. Yes.
Getting off the train, there was an unusually high number of cops supervising the platform. I looked at the one by the nearest stairs, doing a quick body language check to see if I should perhaps consider another path, and got a bit more reassurance than expected or necessary.
Cop: An angel walks before me.
Me: Dude. [Begins skirting a bit in approach to stairs.]
Cop: You look like, "They know not what they do."
Me: You've got me there. [And we have stairs.]
I'm assuming the fact that I was bundled nella mode 'Inuit' left only my face as a definable shape, and that most of that bundling was eggshell/feathery white, had more to do with this impression of said officer's. Wings? Halo? Under my Northface, and I do mean my North Face.
Then crossing the street, an old man was almost pacing me despite pulling a massive wheeled suitcase. The peripheral eyeball noticed he had, however, gotten stuck on the curb. The deeply (self-)ingrained from childhood "Help those who are weaker" kicked in, so I halted and turned. Eye contact - point blank. Up came his suitcase, but he was so pleased to see someone had been willing to help him, that I was showered with praise. I walked off translating all this into a whelming sentiment of, "Being not a complete asshole made his day. That's nice."
And then I came into work.
Friday, January 11, 2008
fortunate influx of friendness
However many times it happens, I remain un-condition-able when it comes to leaving behind doggie bags. In light of this self knowledge, when JB handed me his manuscript the other night at dinner, I said, "Please, REMIND ME, like make sure, that I take this when we leave."
"Just put it in your bag."
"It won't fit."
"Put it on top."
"It won't matter. Trust me." But I put it on top, with him saying he'd remind me.
[Fast-forward two hours.]
I sit straight up on the couch as a few of us are sitting around talking. Heads turn, startled.
"The manuscript."
"No. You couldn't have. It was right on top. You had it in your hand."
"But had to put it down to get my coat on and button it!"
"Maybe you left it at the dry cleaners?"
"No. I don't remember carrying it at all. Dear god."
I call the restaurant. A guy with a thick French accent answers, so that narrows it down to every guy who works there. My forced-calm and guilt-laden voice begins, "Hi. This is D. We were in there just a bit ago..."
"I remember you."
"...and I left a manuscript on the table."
"Yes, it is [audible effort to make 'h' sound] 'Heroes.'"
"Yes! Can someone pick it up tomorrow?"
"Yes, sweetheart, it is okay..." [continuing French scheduling details]
KR offered to, and did in fact, pick it up.
That was yesterday.
This morning, I was nearly into work and realized I'd forgotten my cell phone. There are only a few things I fear ever leaving behind .
Worst Possible Thing to Leave Behind: a baby, particularly on a car roof (I've done it with [virgin] drinks - so leaving a virgin human is at least a possibility).
Leaving behind my cellphone is not far behind, in terms of freak-out factor.
An email was sent out. KR responded, and - bless her - brought Pearl to me.
All is well, and I am thankful for so much and many.
:)
"Just put it in your bag."
"It won't fit."
"Put it on top."
"It won't matter. Trust me." But I put it on top, with him saying he'd remind me.
[Fast-forward two hours.]
I sit straight up on the couch as a few of us are sitting around talking. Heads turn, startled.
"The manuscript."
"No. You couldn't have. It was right on top. You had it in your hand."
"But had to put it down to get my coat on and button it!"
"Maybe you left it at the dry cleaners?"
"No. I don't remember carrying it at all. Dear god."
I call the restaurant. A guy with a thick French accent answers, so that narrows it down to every guy who works there. My forced-calm and guilt-laden voice begins, "Hi. This is D. We were in there just a bit ago..."
"I remember you."
"...and I left a manuscript on the table."
"Yes, it is [audible effort to make 'h' sound] 'Heroes.'"
"Yes! Can someone pick it up tomorrow?"
"Yes, sweetheart, it is okay..." [continuing French scheduling details]
KR offered to, and did in fact, pick it up.
That was yesterday.
This morning, I was nearly into work and realized I'd forgotten my cell phone. There are only a few things I fear ever leaving behind .
Worst Possible Thing to Leave Behind: a baby, particularly on a car roof (I've done it with [virgin] drinks - so leaving a virgin human is at least a possibility).
Leaving behind my cellphone is not far behind, in terms of freak-out factor.
An email was sent out. KR responded, and - bless her - brought Pearl to me.
All is well, and I am thankful for so much and many.
:)
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
have some scents, over there, little further please
This morning as I was getting off the train, this woman starts flapping her arms and complaining loudly, "Damn. Somebody got on some of that Stink Perfume!"
I like to imagine this as the new Britney Spears scent, in a shiny, pink bottle with glitter.
(I know it's not necessary, but...)
I like to imagine this as the new Britney Spears scent, in a shiny, pink bottle with glitter.
(I know it's not necessary, but...)
Thursday, January 03, 2008
wording con-choice
Oh.
Yes.
I was just documenting something at work and wrote, "...will not be allowed via the client's back-end."
...as in back-end development, which doesn't really sound much better, dooo eet?
Yes.
I was just documenting something at work and wrote, "...will not be allowed via the client's back-end."
...as in back-end development, which doesn't really sound much better, dooo eet?
serious advertising fun
Yes, I work in a field of high turnover and higher inter-agency incest - advertising.
With this in mind, I have just proposed (in my office) the creation of a sort of fantasy football league of our past employees.
It's called "adding value." Yep, that's what I've just done.
With this in mind, I have just proposed (in my office) the creation of a sort of fantasy football league of our past employees.
It's called "adding value." Yep, that's what I've just done.
verbilination
Or verbalienation.
Anywho, I'm entertaining myself with two of my favorite sites - this one which is the bastard child of a site of godlike importance.
Anywho, I'm entertaining myself with two of my favorite sites - this one which is the bastard child of a site of godlike importance.
hangover edge or lack thereof
Four of us brunched together, three were hungover. One of us hoped to amuse the group. (Don't you love how the past tense of 'to hope' intrinsically implies failure?)
item #1:
JS mentioned her parents are having issues at their home with wolves. MG exclaimed her parents are now, too, because while wolves had been hunted in France they had simply gone to Italy but have returned - making these sound like vacationing wolves. So, here's my comment (of which I am obviously still proud) that fell nearly flat to my dearly hungovers gathered together.
"Yes, the wolves came back to France and were all like, 'Ciaooooooooooooowww.'"
[ba da bing!]
item #2:
We were discussing this year's theme for our home's third annual Most Depressing Day of the Year Party.
me: Should we dress only as our favorite people who also committed suicide, or include people we're most happy committed suicide?
[Blank stares. AP pokes her grits.]
nearly unintelligible voice of friend: What do you mean? Like what?
me: Like I love Virginia Woolf and will ever be sad she is gone, but am glad Hitler killed himself.
JS: You could combine them.
[Silence, during which certainly almost no consideration was given to the notion.]
me: Ya, put rocks in my pockets, wear an ugly little mustache and walk around with 'A Reich of One's Own.' [Happy Fragle muppet face!][Return of blank stares.]
And that's why we shouldn't drink.
But we're totally having our party. And drinking. Probably a lot.
But I'm also probably still working my joke into the invites. (Hold your applause.)
item #1:
JS mentioned her parents are having issues at their home with wolves. MG exclaimed her parents are now, too, because while wolves had been hunted in France they had simply gone to Italy but have returned - making these sound like vacationing wolves. So, here's my comment (of which I am obviously still proud) that fell nearly flat to my dearly hungovers gathered together.
"Yes, the wolves came back to France and were all like, 'Ciaooooooooooooowww.'"
[ba da bing!]
item #2:
We were discussing this year's theme for our home's third annual Most Depressing Day of the Year Party.
me: Should we dress only as our favorite people who also committed suicide, or include people we're most happy committed suicide?
[Blank stares. AP pokes her grits.]
nearly unintelligible voice of friend: What do you mean? Like what?
me: Like I love Virginia Woolf and will ever be sad she is gone, but am glad Hitler killed himself.
JS: You could combine them.
[Silence, during which certainly almost no consideration was given to the notion.]
me: Ya, put rocks in my pockets, wear an ugly little mustache and walk around with 'A Reich of One's Own.' [Happy Fragle muppet face!][Return of blank stares.]
And that's why we shouldn't drink.
But we're totally having our party. And drinking. Probably a lot.
But I'm also probably still working my joke into the invites. (Hold your applause.)
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