"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am vast. I contain multitudes." -Walt Whitman
Friday, April 23, 2004
rub me raw
things i had last week that i don't have this week: 10 grand, trust, and long hair.
things i have this week that i didn't have last week: a krispy kreme t-shirt, courtesy of mark.
spring mix cd's go out next week.
Monday, April 12, 2004
oops . . . wrong planet
the good parts of today: my angel (as always); my favorite classical composition in 5.1 surround sound (mussorgsky's pictures at an exhibition); an incredibly good, incredibly easy dinner (taco skillet with tossed salad & dogfish head 90 minute ale).
the stupid part of today: i bought some of those store-brand semi-disposable resealable tupperwarish containers from the local supermarket. as i packed up tonight's leftovers, i noticed the lid reads "caution: contents may be hot."
i bought these containers.
i did this.
from the supermarket. in a five-pack.
do you realize the implication here?
apparently, the braintrust at supermarket, inc., thinks that i, their clientele, are so freaking stupid that i'm going to:
1. purchase their tupperwareish container,
2. stuff it full of my leftovers,
3. stick it in the microwave and nuke it up,
4. take it out of my own freaking microwave and NOT REALIZE THAT IT'S HOT!!!
this terrifies me. because i know it costs money to put that warning on the lid, and supermarket, inc., wouldn't have done it without good cause. like someone burning themselves with their own leftovers taken out of their own microwave. because they didn't realize it was disposable plastic and not an asbestos-lined nuclear-grade leftover container. these are the same people we can thank for the "open other end' message on the bottom of the pepperidge farm three-layer cake box.
shouldn't these people just be left to demonstrate darwin's survival of the fittest theory and leave more cake for the rest of us? my point of view is that, if some doofus burns themselves taking leftovers out of the micro and, in the dance of pain, cracks his head open on the microwave stand and bleeds out - then, hey, you, out of the deep end of the gene pool!
but then i think about it: the person most likely to reach these leftovers first is my stepdaughter, mouse. we went strawberry picking about five years back. she knew two days in advance that we were going strawberry picking. we drove to the farm, where a big hand-made sign read "U PIK STRAWBERRYS". we parked in the mud and traipsed through the soggy field to the strawberry patch, stretching out for a hundred yards in all directions. mouse looked down, and in a moment of beautiful, sincere, child-like wonder mixed with generation-next oblivion, exclaimed in all honestly, "look! strawberries!"
i think i realize the target audience for these warning labels now.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
1. sincere thanks to all for their comments on my brother.
2. there's still time and room to suggest spring songs, although i strongly suspect this mix will pale in comparison to scott's.
3. i'm frightened that mouse is trying to have another baby - and a test-tube baby at that. i found a canister of powder clearly, nay unabashedly, labeled 'baby formula'! apparently all you have to do these days is add water! with the process made this easy, we'll be seriously overpopulated in no time. (not to mention the strain on my house, wallet, and nerves.) the kicker is this: the label also reads 'now with iron.' that explains why these kids are so damned rough on things: they're made of friggin' metal!
4. an associate recently blew any romantic potential he had with a new girl. while flipping through her photo album, he came across (in his words) 'a severe hotty.' 'wow,' he asked her, 'who is that?'
'that's me. two years ago.'
'damn, you were hot back then.'
can you feel the chill descend?
so i'm going to invent an implant for guys, similar to that antiskip chip in portable cd players. the chip delays the output from reaching the speakers for 20 or 30 seconds, so if the output contains an error, the internal processors can fix it and smooth it over. the implant i want to make will do the same thing for guys, so when a guy says, 'damn, you were hot back then,' it comes out the mouth as 'damn, you've always been beautiful, haven't you?'
i suspect sugarv will be my first customer.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
why i blog, part 4 (or thereabouts)
somewhere along the way, i've mentioned that one reason for maintaining this blog is to have a record for my kids, so that they might know me and my life better. to put things in perspective: my children live 50 miles away, with their mother. my daughter has not seen my parents or any other member of my family in over five years. my son has never met any member of my family, including his paternal grandparents.
so, for the record, today is the day i learned my oldest brother has a disease for which there is presently no known cure.
in one of those ironic little twists, it is the same disease that eventually killed angel's dad.
my city was gone
there are worse things, i suppose, than having your ancestral home turned into a bed and breakfast. "ancestral" may be stretching it a bit. george washington's great-great-grandfather, augustine warner, had this home built on the severn river in virginia. it eventually passed out of the warner-lewis family line. in 1946 angel's grandfather 'pops' bought the home and raised beef cattle there.
the current owners have a home full full of history. barring a visit from angel, however, there are memories within warner hall's walls and grounds that they may never know.
the bull named cuddles that grazed there.
augustine warner's ghost, who would sit on the porch visible here and rock back and forth on evenings when the air was still.
the majestic porch fronting the home was the site of mischievious boys who pushed their cousin to the grass below, only to suffer the wrath of their vigilant grandmother, who made them stand at the edge before pushing them off herself.
a certain little girl loved to swing circles around the light posts out front, and to bump down the center staircase with her cousin. and to just sit there with her uncle.
a certain uncle would don a gorilla mask and peek in through the windows at night - after turning off the power - and frighten the ladies of the family. then he'd turn the power back on and return from 'the bathroom,' wondering at the commotion around him.
clandestine visits to the forbidden warner-lewis graveyard.
there were picnics and holidays there.
the chickens that were so decidely unwilling to give up their eggs that each morning sisters would fight over who had to gather them.
the horses who could be called back to the stables by holding up an apple with a bite taken out, to release the scent.
the mansion several times, both before and after pops owned it. eventually he sold it and moved to a smaller estate. the house has changed. the home remains.
Friday, April 02, 2004
tunes in bloom
update: i'm now committed to creating four cds and one child named "sugar." let's hope it's a girl. (thanks, v!)