I miss my cat, Ernie. I got Ernie when I was 2. He was named after Enie of Ernie & Bert in Sesame Street. You know, were they gay? They were gay weren't they. The first closeted gay puppets on TV. Crazy!
Anyway, I tortured Ernie. I used to squeeze his back until he snapped at me, and I would bug him until he would fight. I would blow in his ears until he couldn't stand it and flicked them repeatedly, figured out it was me and hissed. I tried to give him baths and force him into a bucket of cold water. I did all the mean things you would do to an animal that you loved. I'm sure I threw him too, but I never swung him by his tail, although I wouldn't have put it by me.
I loved my cat. He slept in my bed almost every night. If I opened the covers he would go down and nestle in my belly and I would curl around him, and he would purr purr purr. Sometimes he would sleep on my head. I would wake up and he would be lying curled up right on my ear with his tail under my nose like a moustache.
Ernie would come sit on my lap at the table and eat whatever food we gave him. He really didn't jump on top of the table or steal food, or beg, he just was interested enough in it that we gave him some. At a certain point we gave in and just started setting a place for him at the table. He seemed happy about that, and everyone else was pretty much into it too. I mean, it wasn't like he just ate meat. My mom would put a piece of lettuce on the table and he would eat that too.
For most of his life, he just got dry food and milk. He didn't always eat the milk, but the food seemed to work fine for him. His favorite food however was cantaloupe rind. We would put a cantaloupe rind down and he would lick it across the floor and back. Such a strange cat.
Ernie was a seal-point Siamese, and we did have him spayed, still, I think he had an uncommonly nice personality. Clearly he was capable of putting up with me.
My favorite story to tell is about the Moosheses. They were a family that lived across the streets, and they had 3 daughters, one of whom was my age. They were the kind of girls that played with Barbies. Girly girls.
One day, that little girl and I, after swimming, decided that we should introduce Ernie, my cat, to her poodle. Brilliant! So, she brought her poodle over to our backyard, and she, in her swimsuit, hoisted her poodle up, and I, in my swimsuit, hoisted Ernie up, and we made them kiss, rub noses, however you want to describe this insanely stupid act. Ernie, well, was not happy, and clawed his way up my bare chest, up my face, on to the top of my head, and lept far away. The poodle and the little girl left. So, being bloody, scared and abandoned, I went inside, crying to get help from my brothers, who were in the living room watching TV. Hearing my sobs, my brothers looked up at my bloody face and chest and said, "Wait 'til the commercial. Go in the kitchen and clean yourself off." Luckily my mom came home and they got in big trouble, I'm not sure, maybe I did too.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Amendment
I know why we all go to the library, and partly it's the free wifi, but I could always get that at a cafe, but it's the comfort, being surrounded by all those books, the friendliness of the unhip librarians, the traffic of people, all kinds of people - young old, brilliant, deranged - and nobody is there judging you, or at least no one has that job, because of course we judge each other, well or poorly, the mind does judge, we are all Gods children, good, bad, deserving, privileged, spoiled, trash, quality, crazy, solid. That we do. That we do.
Sometimes I look around and I think about the fact that we, all of us, will die. I think that because it's such an odd thing to realize, in this business of living. Beginning. Middle. End.
Sometimes I look around and I think about the fact that we, all of us, will die. I think that because it's such an odd thing to realize, in this business of living. Beginning. Middle. End.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Land of the Jobberworky - The Library
I live about 2 doors and a school down from the public library, and I don't have Internet at home so this is where I've been spending a lot of my time while unemployed. True, it's not the best place to network, unless you're planning on joining a grade school or the ranks of the crazy. I myself do not aspire to such lofty goals, nay, 'tis mere jobwork that I seek. There are ahost of distractions as well, and they also fall into the two aforementioned categories, crazy people and schoolchildren.
1. The other day, a guy with a runny nose and no kleenex, was reading so voraciously that he couldn't pause to wipe his nose, and so every few seconds, he cleared his throat, and Sniiiiiiiiiiiifffed his snot back up his nose.
2. Quietly, oh so quietly, schoolchildren play tag amidst the tables, stifling their giggles, oh but with whispery quietude running rapidly to and fro, and to, and fro, to fro, two fros, tofus.
3. Can one have an interesting conversation with oneself, loudly, in the library, if everyone is listening?
4. If you stand in front of the reference librarian and yell at them loudly, do you get a better response?
5. Should you bathe before you arrive at the library or should you postpone until next year? Even if you are a chain smoking bicyclist?
I love the library, free wifi, lotsa good books, videos, and pleasant and well informed librarians and staff. And it's all free. Amazing!
1. The other day, a guy with a runny nose and no kleenex, was reading so voraciously that he couldn't pause to wipe his nose, and so every few seconds, he cleared his throat, and Sniiiiiiiiiiiifffed his snot back up his nose.
2. Quietly, oh so quietly, schoolchildren play tag amidst the tables, stifling their giggles, oh but with whispery quietude running rapidly to and fro, and to, and fro, to fro, two fros, tofus.
3. Can one have an interesting conversation with oneself, loudly, in the library, if everyone is listening?
4. If you stand in front of the reference librarian and yell at them loudly, do you get a better response?
5. Should you bathe before you arrive at the library or should you postpone until next year? Even if you are a chain smoking bicyclist?
I love the library, free wifi, lotsa good books, videos, and pleasant and well informed librarians and staff. And it's all free. Amazing!
Monday, March 23, 2009
BSG - The End!
Well, I now have more time in my week, because Battlestar Galactica has finished, for good, and it was a very good story indeed. Written by Ronald D. Moore, older brother of Michael Moore, whom I went to gradeschool with in Chowchilla, it could have been a mere rehashing of a hackneyed set of characters and one-act plots. Instead, it sets itself apart with a strong unpredictable narrative, a complex set of characters and multiple intertwined plotlines. It is emblematic of that breed of serialized stories such as "The Wire" that have come to replace simple one-act sit-coms with their unchanging characters and laugh-tracks (I'm guessing that "Mad Men" also falls into this category). I forget the commentator who said it, but what's going on in TV right now rivals what's happening with the movies. I think the possibility of this serialized type of story is driving it. Why now? I don't know if it's technology per se but rather the specialization, financing, and audiences now being generated by cable television.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Only The Lonely
I got new contacts today, and I can see better than I've been able to see in about, oh, 15 years! I'm sitting in my favorite cafe, trying to doink out a blog entry. Still, contacts make you feel like you have something in your eye, because you have, in fact, on purpose, stuck something in your eye.
The only things I can think to write about are mundane. Really mundane. I mean, so mundane. I want to talk about trimming my finger nails, and how I might work at a tanning salon. Who the hell wants to hear about that? Yeah, it's good to write consistently in a blog, but you gotta have something worth reading.
I tell you what, I love swing dancing, and one of the most rewarding and difficult things to do is connect with your partner, which is why I now blues dance as well, because I have to work on connection. Connection is difficult. You have to play games in order to connect. If you can't figure out the game, and aren't willing to play, Zzzt! No connection.
The only things I can think to write about are mundane. Really mundane. I mean, so mundane. I want to talk about trimming my finger nails, and how I might work at a tanning salon. Who the hell wants to hear about that? Yeah, it's good to write consistently in a blog, but you gotta have something worth reading.
I tell you what, I love swing dancing, and one of the most rewarding and difficult things to do is connect with your partner, which is why I now blues dance as well, because I have to work on connection. Connection is difficult. You have to play games in order to connect. If you can't figure out the game, and aren't willing to play, Zzzt! No connection.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Vices
Here are a list of my current vices, just so I don't get confused and forget to indulge.
Okay, let's just say sex goes without saying, and as far as vices I think the Internet is really built on this one, so I'll just start in no particular order with #2, including subcategories.
TV
24 - Pure unadulterated adrenaline. It's my roommate's fault.
Battlestar Gallactica- The new series is co-written by Ronald D. Moore, who is the older brother of Michael Moore, who was in my grade in Chowchilla. That alone would get me to watch the show, but actually the Cyclons have gotten bigger, meaner, and in some cases, smokin' hot, 6 or 7, I forget?
Doctor Who (remixed) - I can't really believe this, but you can check out the new series at the library, and the special effects are pretty good, the emotional content and the weird ideas are so much better than anything you find anywhere else.
Mexican TV - girls & soccer. Need I say more?
Reading
Okay, just finished the last Harry Potter book, and uh, well, two days. So, yes, addicted. Haruki Murikami, some really cool blogs, and a subscription to Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine (which I'm still not totally comfortable reading in public) haven't helped matters.
Rice Cakes
This would be the natural kind, NOT the Quaker adulterated with corn kind. There are two brands that I like, one is from Belgium, and I can only find it in my local green grocer. They're rectangular, with rounded corners. The ones I like best have other grains, including spelt, and uh, another natural grain (not corn). The other ones are Lundberg. There are a few others, but for the money, Lundberg's are the best. There is definitely a politics of rice cakes going on. In safeway, the shelves are lined with Quakers cakes of crap, and there is one, maybe two rows of Lundberg at the verrrrry bottom. I think Quaker must pay for shelf space. The best way to eat them is either plain, or with some avocado smashed on top with freshly ground pepper and sea salt.
Peanut Butter (and jelly)
I figure that 15-20% of my current body is formed from the consumption of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. If there isn't bread, I resort to using flour tortillas to make pb&j burritos. If there isn't jelly, I use honey (and sometimes throw in banana or raisins). When I say "peanut butter" I mean ground peanuts and salt. Period. No GSM, organic is fine but not necessary. My favorite brand is Laura Scudders, surprisingly, but they use a particular kind of peanut that is distinctively good. No palm oil or any other crap is necessary.
I know somebody may ask "Well, how do you keep peanut butter from separating?" This is easy. All you have to do is mix it up, you can even shake it. I like to throw it up in the air with centrifical force so that it spins. For a safer alternative, spin it on a formica counter. After doing this several times until it's lost it's novelty, I put the jar upside down in the fridge. When you open it, viola! Mixed. Small price to pay for salmonella-free peanut-butter.
Chocolate
This includes chocolate donuts, Reese's PB Cups, and various forms of 'slutty' chocolate, as well as ice-cream, ice-cream sandwiches, and especially of course DARK chocolate. However, this does not include caramel or Oreo's or chocolate-like or substances described as "chocolaty" or crap like that. Some, but not all cakes and cookies fall under this category, but like fruit, supermarkets have figured out how to make pastries look exciting while extracting every ounce of good taste out of them.
Swing Dancing
It's important to break this one down. This includes lindy-hop, Charleston, Balboa, Shag, uh, and repeat. Dancing is addictive. Really.
Okay, let's just say sex goes without saying, and as far as vices I think the Internet is really built on this one, so I'll just start in no particular order with #2, including subcategories.
TV
24 - Pure unadulterated adrenaline. It's my roommate's fault.
Battlestar Gallactica- The new series is co-written by Ronald D. Moore, who is the older brother of Michael Moore, who was in my grade in Chowchilla. That alone would get me to watch the show, but actually the Cyclons have gotten bigger, meaner, and in some cases, smokin' hot, 6 or 7, I forget?
Doctor Who (remixed) - I can't really believe this, but you can check out the new series at the library, and the special effects are pretty good, the emotional content and the weird ideas are so much better than anything you find anywhere else.
Mexican TV - girls & soccer. Need I say more?
Reading
Okay, just finished the last Harry Potter book, and uh, well, two days. So, yes, addicted. Haruki Murikami, some really cool blogs, and a subscription to Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine (which I'm still not totally comfortable reading in public) haven't helped matters.
Rice Cakes
This would be the natural kind, NOT the Quaker adulterated with corn kind. There are two brands that I like, one is from Belgium, and I can only find it in my local green grocer. They're rectangular, with rounded corners. The ones I like best have other grains, including spelt, and uh, another natural grain (not corn). The other ones are Lundberg. There are a few others, but for the money, Lundberg's are the best. There is definitely a politics of rice cakes going on. In safeway, the shelves are lined with Quakers cakes of crap, and there is one, maybe two rows of Lundberg at the verrrrry bottom. I think Quaker must pay for shelf space. The best way to eat them is either plain, or with some avocado smashed on top with freshly ground pepper and sea salt.
Peanut Butter (and jelly)
I figure that 15-20% of my current body is formed from the consumption of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. If there isn't bread, I resort to using flour tortillas to make pb&j burritos. If there isn't jelly, I use honey (and sometimes throw in banana or raisins). When I say "peanut butter" I mean ground peanuts and salt. Period. No GSM, organic is fine but not necessary. My favorite brand is Laura Scudders, surprisingly, but they use a particular kind of peanut that is distinctively good. No palm oil or any other crap is necessary.
I know somebody may ask "Well, how do you keep peanut butter from separating?" This is easy. All you have to do is mix it up, you can even shake it. I like to throw it up in the air with centrifical force so that it spins. For a safer alternative, spin it on a formica counter. After doing this several times until it's lost it's novelty, I put the jar upside down in the fridge. When you open it, viola! Mixed. Small price to pay for salmonella-free peanut-butter.
Chocolate
This includes chocolate donuts, Reese's PB Cups, and various forms of 'slutty' chocolate, as well as ice-cream, ice-cream sandwiches, and especially of course DARK chocolate. However, this does not include caramel or Oreo's or chocolate-like or substances described as "chocolaty" or crap like that. Some, but not all cakes and cookies fall under this category, but like fruit, supermarkets have figured out how to make pastries look exciting while extracting every ounce of good taste out of them.
Swing Dancing
It's important to break this one down. This includes lindy-hop, Charleston, Balboa, Shag, uh, and repeat. Dancing is addictive. Really.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Sloppy Seconds
I used to try to start writing by throwing down a witty title. I like a good title! But then I would automatically start editing my writing so that it fit the title, and I can't write and edit at the same time, so now, no titles until I'm done. Just there, right there, I thought, oh perfect tile "Untitled", but I know better. What if I actually found a strand to write about? Then what? I'd have my title, and I couldn't create the focus on something else. No go. Nope. I know that little critic in my head is pacing impatiently behind his door. It's not his time. No, not yet.
I had a cup of tea with my English friend. All I texted her was "tea?" and I got back "Brilliant!" You can pretty much just throw down the word "tea" with English people and generate some positive energy. I've started using it as a pick-up line. It works with Asian chicks too. But you have to mean it. None of this herbal shit. You've got to mean tea, and tea is time, and time is a commitment. If you're having tea with a lady, you are willing to commit. That's it. Bottom line. Tea is not exactly an aphrodisiac, but it's the doorway to vulnerability. It can be at least. Okay, that title would be "tea" but I'm ditching that, because it's bullshit. Nobody likes to sit down and have coffee or tea. It's just, not, fun. People do it either to slow down the momentum or as a launch-point to what they really want, but if you just sit there and drink tea or coffee and talk without creating momentum to move somewhere else, you're lost.
I have nothing to say today, or nothing I want to say. Honesty. No. That's what I have to say. No. No I won't. No I don't want to. No, it's too hard. No, you can't make me. No, I don't think so. No, it's not the right time. No, I'm too tired. No, I'm too stressed out. No, tomorrow. No, I can't think straight. No, I'm ambivalent. No, I don't know you well enough. No, it's not important enough. No, I'll call back tomorrow. No, you just missed him. No, I don't have enough money. No, I don't have enough time. No, we've already discussed this. No.
I'm getting all my No's out where I can see them. It's like I'm pushing off time, as if I could save it for later, for when I'm ready. I'm never ready. My friend asked me to go kayaking and I said, "I'd like to say 'No' but I can't think of a good reason to." So he said, "Okay, let's go." And we went. Make no mistake. No is a decision often based on the misperception that you'll get a second chance. Time, at least for me, is linear. I have never gotten a second chance in my life, only another opportunity, and when I was smart, I took it.
Damn, I just wrote something good I needed to hear, and I can't think of a freakin' title. I hate that. Okay, how about a really bad title.
I had a cup of tea with my English friend. All I texted her was "tea?" and I got back "Brilliant!" You can pretty much just throw down the word "tea" with English people and generate some positive energy. I've started using it as a pick-up line. It works with Asian chicks too. But you have to mean it. None of this herbal shit. You've got to mean tea, and tea is time, and time is a commitment. If you're having tea with a lady, you are willing to commit. That's it. Bottom line. Tea is not exactly an aphrodisiac, but it's the doorway to vulnerability. It can be at least. Okay, that title would be "tea" but I'm ditching that, because it's bullshit. Nobody likes to sit down and have coffee or tea. It's just, not, fun. People do it either to slow down the momentum or as a launch-point to what they really want, but if you just sit there and drink tea or coffee and talk without creating momentum to move somewhere else, you're lost.
I have nothing to say today, or nothing I want to say. Honesty. No. That's what I have to say. No. No I won't. No I don't want to. No, it's too hard. No, you can't make me. No, I don't think so. No, it's not the right time. No, I'm too tired. No, I'm too stressed out. No, tomorrow. No, I can't think straight. No, I'm ambivalent. No, I don't know you well enough. No, it's not important enough. No, I'll call back tomorrow. No, you just missed him. No, I don't have enough money. No, I don't have enough time. No, we've already discussed this. No.
I'm getting all my No's out where I can see them. It's like I'm pushing off time, as if I could save it for later, for when I'm ready. I'm never ready. My friend asked me to go kayaking and I said, "I'd like to say 'No' but I can't think of a good reason to." So he said, "Okay, let's go." And we went. Make no mistake. No is a decision often based on the misperception that you'll get a second chance. Time, at least for me, is linear. I have never gotten a second chance in my life, only another opportunity, and when I was smart, I took it.
Damn, I just wrote something good I needed to hear, and I can't think of a freakin' title. I hate that. Okay, how about a really bad title.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Monday Morning TV Flogger
I often feel like I'm trying to get something out of TV that it just can't give. As my friend says, "More of what you don't need won't fill you up."
So, I started this when it was still Monday morning. I'm sitting in my favorite cafe checking my email because that's a good thing to do on a Monday morning when you're unemployed in San Francisco, or maybe it's not such a good thing to do, but it's comforting.
I like reading. I like reading blogs, because it gives me hope that maybe a guy like me can actually do something meaningful with his life. Really, it's a tough sell.
I want to say something profound today, something that will save me from "the way things are" because I don't want to accept how fallible I am, how not good or hard-working, my bad decisions, and cowardliness. I want to find that hidden door that I can slip through, some second warriors body that's in deep freeze, that my mind was extracted from, and where it rightly belongs. I want to discover that switch that gets flipped, that scheme that they advertise on late-night TV that gives me rock-hard abs, and a real-estate empire. That's what I'm looking for. It's trouble. All roads lead to trouble.
Still, I am sitting here, blotto from watching too much late night TV, in my favorite cafe, having eaten a 7-layer sin bar, and the sun is out, my friends are about, and I am most likely going to make it through, despite my fear and anxiety.
God bless us, Everyone!
So, I started this when it was still Monday morning. I'm sitting in my favorite cafe checking my email because that's a good thing to do on a Monday morning when you're unemployed in San Francisco, or maybe it's not such a good thing to do, but it's comforting.
I like reading. I like reading blogs, because it gives me hope that maybe a guy like me can actually do something meaningful with his life. Really, it's a tough sell.
I want to say something profound today, something that will save me from "the way things are" because I don't want to accept how fallible I am, how not good or hard-working, my bad decisions, and cowardliness. I want to find that hidden door that I can slip through, some second warriors body that's in deep freeze, that my mind was extracted from, and where it rightly belongs. I want to discover that switch that gets flipped, that scheme that they advertise on late-night TV that gives me rock-hard abs, and a real-estate empire. That's what I'm looking for. It's trouble. All roads lead to trouble.
Still, I am sitting here, blotto from watching too much late night TV, in my favorite cafe, having eaten a 7-layer sin bar, and the sun is out, my friends are about, and I am most likely going to make it through, despite my fear and anxiety.
God bless us, Everyone!
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Bay Day & I love my Mom
I rode out in a kayak on the bay with my friend Chris. You look out at the bay from the shore and it appears peaceful, but there's a lot going on. I especially like the harbor seals, especially when they pop their heads up near you, and it's like the water is a blanket that they peak out from under.
I want to keep posting, so even though I have nothing to say today, I'm going to just write. Dammit. I'm just generally angry at the world. I'm mad at my friends for not returning my phone calls. I'm mad at San Francisco for being filled with smarter and more interesting people than myself. I'm mad at myself for squandering time, for not being X enough. This is bad, this is inane.
You know, one time my mom cooked a dinner that was horrible. Only once. What she did, was she was cooking a pot roast and instead of putting corn starch into the rue, she put baking soda, and it was disgusting. So, you know what we all did? Me, my mom, and my brothers and sisters stood around eating it, and making really disgusted comments and sounds about how horrible it tasted. "Ewe!", "Gross!", "Blech!" "Mom! How could you have done this?! This is the worstest meal you have ever ever made!" And that's how we ate our dinner that night. It was fun. My mom, who is an excellent cook, is an even better sport. We will never forget the night of the disgusting pot roast. I love my mom.
I want to keep posting, so even though I have nothing to say today, I'm going to just write. Dammit. I'm just generally angry at the world. I'm mad at my friends for not returning my phone calls. I'm mad at San Francisco for being filled with smarter and more interesting people than myself. I'm mad at myself for squandering time, for not being X enough. This is bad, this is inane.
You know, one time my mom cooked a dinner that was horrible. Only once. What she did, was she was cooking a pot roast and instead of putting corn starch into the rue, she put baking soda, and it was disgusting. So, you know what we all did? Me, my mom, and my brothers and sisters stood around eating it, and making really disgusted comments and sounds about how horrible it tasted. "Ewe!", "Gross!", "Blech!" "Mom! How could you have done this?! This is the worstest meal you have ever ever made!" And that's how we ate our dinner that night. It was fun. My mom, who is an excellent cook, is an even better sport. We will never forget the night of the disgusting pot roast. I love my mom.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Just Okay
Even though I'm not the greatest, I still really like myself, like a chocolate chip cookie, or a bike you've ridden for years. But I wanted to start writing so this is my 'just okay' post. The thing I've noticed about blogs I like to read is that:
1. They're short.
2. They're broken up as lists.
3. They're conversational, but not chatty or emoticonified.
4. Even abstract ideas are presented in a personal manner.
5. They're interesting to read. The writer has a unique but not contrived voice.
6. Relevant. I'm unemployed so I'm reading blogs about getting a job, or being unemployed, or career searching.
7. There's a focus, but there's deviation from the focus, so it's not a narrow focus, and it's not 2-3 unrelated focuses. The posts kinda' hang together. So, in a sense, the personality of the posts is consistent. [I guess I might say that the blogger has made a commitment to consistently blogging, so each post is close enough to the last that it's internally consistent. Yeah, the blog reflects a commitment.]
Okay, well, I'm unemployed, but so is everyone else, so let's nix that one. There are some really really good blogs and pages on finding employment, and I'll post some links that I really like, but I'm not going to post on the "slacker life" or some crap like that. That is just so freakin' pompous. WFT?! It's just taking advantage of the social safety net for leisure. I mean, it's important to come to terms with being unemployed, especially if you're over 6 months unemployed, in which case it's cause for reflection as well as strategizing, i.e. frugality.
Here are the things that I'm interested in that I might post about. One blog I read said that you should only have 1 blog, and I've potentially got 5. So, the topics are:
1. Transportation. I've been thinking about this for a long time, and it's about cars bikes and public transportation, and what needs to happen in order to move forward, and what doesn't freakin' work. Ever ever ever. And what is just goopy green envirosnobbish impractical drivel, and there is a LOT out there. I've even got some. It's like phlegm, but more abstract.
2. Dating. Okay, this is the topic I am most likely to lie about. I'll do my best on this one.
3. Job/career crap. Being unemployed and how glamorous it is.
4. Spirituality.
5. Dancing.
Man, this is going to be tough. Okay, I'm going to stop here and try to see about formatting and putting some links in.
1. They're short.
2. They're broken up as lists.
3. They're conversational, but not chatty or emoticonified.
4. Even abstract ideas are presented in a personal manner.
5. They're interesting to read. The writer has a unique but not contrived voice.
6. Relevant. I'm unemployed so I'm reading blogs about getting a job, or being unemployed, or career searching.
7. There's a focus, but there's deviation from the focus, so it's not a narrow focus, and it's not 2-3 unrelated focuses. The posts kinda' hang together. So, in a sense, the personality of the posts is consistent. [I guess I might say that the blogger has made a commitment to consistently blogging, so each post is close enough to the last that it's internally consistent. Yeah, the blog reflects a commitment.]
Okay, well, I'm unemployed, but so is everyone else, so let's nix that one. There are some really really good blogs and pages on finding employment, and I'll post some links that I really like, but I'm not going to post on the "slacker life" or some crap like that. That is just so freakin' pompous. WFT?! It's just taking advantage of the social safety net for leisure. I mean, it's important to come to terms with being unemployed, especially if you're over 6 months unemployed, in which case it's cause for reflection as well as strategizing, i.e. frugality.
Here are the things that I'm interested in that I might post about. One blog I read said that you should only have 1 blog, and I've potentially got 5. So, the topics are:
1. Transportation. I've been thinking about this for a long time, and it's about cars bikes and public transportation, and what needs to happen in order to move forward, and what doesn't freakin' work. Ever ever ever. And what is just goopy green envirosnobbish impractical drivel, and there is a LOT out there. I've even got some. It's like phlegm, but more abstract.
2. Dating. Okay, this is the topic I am most likely to lie about. I'll do my best on this one.
3. Job/career crap. Being unemployed and how glamorous it is.
4. Spirituality.
5. Dancing.
Man, this is going to be tough. Okay, I'm going to stop here and try to see about formatting and putting some links in.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Facebook Changes Everything
Yep! I have a Facebook profile and I put a link to my blog on it. No more messing around. I need precision posts. No more peanut butter as 'deus ex machina' for my life's troubles. No more levitating rice cakes. No, no, too much pressure. I'm taking it down. No, no, better yet, I'm going to pretend to have taken it down, but I'm leaving it up, but I will lie to myself. Phew! Finally, I'm using denial as a positive force in my life.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
What Is The Most Imortant Thing?
I just returned from a 10-day silent Vipassana retreat up in Northfork near Yosemite. It really worried my conservative Catholic parents that I went on such a retreat. I think partly because I've been unemployed for so long, and partly because it probably seems like a cultish things to do. I can't blame them. It was kinda cultish despite its claims to nonsectarianism. There's just no 'God' so you don't have to have any metaphysical beliefs. Oh, wait, there's that reincarnation thing, and there's the thing about subatomic particles that your meditation transforms. Crap! Then there is the ritual of saying "Saaaaaaaaaaaaa-do" 3 times at the end of the teacher speaking on the DVD, which of course just means "well said.". But then again "Amen." just means "...and so be it." and "Catholic" means "universal". One hour of meditation each morning and one hour each night. I don't know that I have it in me. I'm not sure that enlightenment is worth it. That guy, Goenke, he sounds like a vampire too!
Still you cannot go unchanged after doing 10 hours of meditation a day for 10 days, not sleeping at night, and not talking to your peers. You are sore, tired, ecstatic, and hungry for company. I would say though, that it was more gruelling and had less of an immediate impact than I had hoped.
All that sitting still, it really made me want to take up yoga.
I went on the retreat as a last ditch effort to fix my head because I've been unemployed for four months and I'm starting to go crazy. It didn't keep me from going crazy. Unfortunately. So as my sanity slowly fades, the embers of my intelligence lighting up the night a little bit longer, I ask myself what I've got to hold onto.
Family?
Friends?
Peanut Butter?
TV?
Really, despite myself, I'm really enjoying my new refurbished laptop. It's an IBM X40 with Ubuntu 8.04 and XP dualboot. It rocks like hell, but doesn't make me happy, just satisfied. I hate to admit this, but I took off all the card games and put on the one true holy grail of videogames on it: Galaga!
Still you cannot go unchanged after doing 10 hours of meditation a day for 10 days, not sleeping at night, and not talking to your peers. You are sore, tired, ecstatic, and hungry for company. I would say though, that it was more gruelling and had less of an immediate impact than I had hoped.
All that sitting still, it really made me want to take up yoga.
I went on the retreat as a last ditch effort to fix my head because I've been unemployed for four months and I'm starting to go crazy. It didn't keep me from going crazy. Unfortunately. So as my sanity slowly fades, the embers of my intelligence lighting up the night a little bit longer, I ask myself what I've got to hold onto.
Family?
Friends?
Peanut Butter?
TV?
Really, despite myself, I'm really enjoying my new refurbished laptop. It's an IBM X40 with Ubuntu 8.04 and XP dualboot. It rocks like hell, but doesn't make me happy, just satisfied. I hate to admit this, but I took off all the card games and put on the one true holy grail of videogames on it: Galaga!
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
My Hero!
Well, I finally found the man I most admire. He is an African-American man who was an agriculturalist. His name is George Washington Carver, and he invented Peanut Butter (mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm), and over 300 other products that could be produced from the peanut plant. I've never seen a peanut plant. I think I'm going to get one.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The Week End
Okay, I finally swam, I did a five-or-five, that's five minutes or five laps, whichever comes first. Man that was refreshing!
Ben and Spence took a field trip down the hall because we were all just laying around feeling bored yesterday afternoon. Spence was unsurprisingly skittish, but Ben was unnervingly not. A number of people came up through the elevator and said "hi" to him, and I was a little worried so I kept calling him back, but he didn't come until I actually walked out next to him. I think he may be planning an escape.
My parents threatened to come up and see me this weekend, but luckily my brother, with their grandchildren, was just a little more appealing.
I can't figure out if there's air conditioning... Is there air conditioning? Strange question to ask in San Francisco, I know, but what with global warming and everything, I think it's a fair one. It's probaby next to the can opener.
Man, I'm tired. Okay, it's a Monday. Ooff!
Charlie
Ben and Spence took a field trip down the hall because we were all just laying around feeling bored yesterday afternoon. Spence was unsurprisingly skittish, but Ben was unnervingly not. A number of people came up through the elevator and said "hi" to him, and I was a little worried so I kept calling him back, but he didn't come until I actually walked out next to him. I think he may be planning an escape.
My parents threatened to come up and see me this weekend, but luckily my brother, with their grandchildren, was just a little more appealing.
I can't figure out if there's air conditioning... Is there air conditioning? Strange question to ask in San Francisco, I know, but what with global warming and everything, I think it's a fair one. It's probaby next to the can opener.
Man, I'm tired. Okay, it's a Monday. Ooff!
Charlie
Butt Lickin' Good!
Well, that's a semi-repulsive title, if I ever saw one, and it was inspired by Ben, the resident butt-licker extraordinaire.
More vomit from Spence. It must've happened after I left in the morning, so when I got back and stepped in it, it was pretty much all dried out and easy to clean, especially since it was on the rug. Phew! That's what I call good luck!
I have to confess that I've never used a dishwasher before, so I tried to set it up to run at 5pm today. We'll find out if it worked when I get home. I do like the idea of putting all the dishes in a drawer, closing it, coming back after work and having them all come out clean. I do something similar with my laundry sometimes. I throw the dirty laundry in a pile, and I'll pick it up a few days later only to discover, that even though it didn't get washed, lo and behold, it's magically clean. Sort of. More clean than it was. I think.
Yesterday morning I screwed up, and I guess I was half asleep, but while I was feeding the cats, I was just, I guess, hungry and it smelled pretty good, so I put a spoonful in my mouth. Yeah, well, it was weird, because I couldn't believe I did it, so I started laughing, only my mouth was full of whatever that stuff is, so I've got wet cat food spewing down my chin. So, I spit it out in the sink and I pretty much got it all out, you know, except for the gravy, which actually isn't too bad. Anyways, that was pretty much the most exciting thing that happened.
Well, I hope you all still respect me. That last part is a total lie, but it's the in thing these days, these kind of fictitious memoirs. I'm not sure where the beer went though.
Charlie
More vomit from Spence. It must've happened after I left in the morning, so when I got back and stepped in it, it was pretty much all dried out and easy to clean, especially since it was on the rug. Phew! That's what I call good luck!
I have to confess that I've never used a dishwasher before, so I tried to set it up to run at 5pm today. We'll find out if it worked when I get home. I do like the idea of putting all the dishes in a drawer, closing it, coming back after work and having them all come out clean. I do something similar with my laundry sometimes. I throw the dirty laundry in a pile, and I'll pick it up a few days later only to discover, that even though it didn't get washed, lo and behold, it's magically clean. Sort of. More clean than it was. I think.
Yesterday morning I screwed up, and I guess I was half asleep, but while I was feeding the cats, I was just, I guess, hungry and it smelled pretty good, so I put a spoonful in my mouth. Yeah, well, it was weird, because I couldn't believe I did it, so I started laughing, only my mouth was full of whatever that stuff is, so I've got wet cat food spewing down my chin. So, I spit it out in the sink and I pretty much got it all out, you know, except for the gravy, which actually isn't too bad. Anyways, that was pretty much the most exciting thing that happened.
Well, I hope you all still respect me. That last part is a total lie, but it's the in thing these days, these kind of fictitious memoirs. I'm not sure where the beer went though.
Charlie
Heavy Petting
Dinner was lamb stew over rice with an Suburban Loaf from Arizmendi. Livin' La Vida Loca! And the Green Can for the kitties.
Brian, a question: Is it possible to get sick of Chinese food? Let me know.
Okay, it was probably my fault for playing favorites, but I think Ben has fallen into a bit of a funk. Basically, I've been giving Spence the lion's share of attention. Not on purpose, but you put your hand out and the guy practically pets himself. Not Ben, noooo, he sits there on MY side of the bed and swishes his tail, waiting for me to come over and give him the royal treatment. Ben couldn't take it when Spence jumped up on the bed and walked right over him to pursue my attentions, so he threw a few punches. Luckily Spence is oblivious and barely noticed. Also, Ben is overeating. I think this has been going on for a while, but I'm pretty sure he's the one who is getting up in the middle of the night to polish off all the dry food. Plus, he's always a little peeved that I haven't done the kitty litter right away in the morning. I'm a little concerned about him and him, since he's got the girth of two. So, I started giving him more attention and I let him sit on my lap while I had my quiet time. When I left this morning, his motor was running, and he was trying to melt all over the floor in the morning sun. Still, I have to recommend therapy. For the cat.
Note to self: Keep Spence out of the bedroom during the pre-vomit period immediately following din-din. That's right, he did it in the bedroom next to the bed, after the Green Can with the candlestick (for all you Clue lovers out there). Anyway, I had the Resolve, so I knew what to do and how to do it. Plus, did I ever mention that I had a cat for 20 years? I've been dealing with cat stuff since I was five! FIVE, I'll have you know. He knew he had done wrong, he pretty much made himself scarce after that for, oh, about 2 minutes until he needed another good petting.
I've decided to put the cats to work around the apartment. With all that nice long hair, why not use them as dust mops? I'm thinking I'm going to hog-tie them, attach a handle and push them around the floor. Maybe I'll wet Ben down and do some regular mopping if we're feeling energetic. Then again, maybe I'll just lay around and watch them play with the vacuum. Whatever. In any case I'm going to have to clean up after the party.
Well, things are great here Brian, hope you're having a good time in the city formerly known as Peking.
Regards,
Charlie
Brian, a question: Is it possible to get sick of Chinese food? Let me know.
Okay, it was probably my fault for playing favorites, but I think Ben has fallen into a bit of a funk. Basically, I've been giving Spence the lion's share of attention. Not on purpose, but you put your hand out and the guy practically pets himself. Not Ben, noooo, he sits there on MY side of the bed and swishes his tail, waiting for me to come over and give him the royal treatment. Ben couldn't take it when Spence jumped up on the bed and walked right over him to pursue my attentions, so he threw a few punches. Luckily Spence is oblivious and barely noticed. Also, Ben is overeating. I think this has been going on for a while, but I'm pretty sure he's the one who is getting up in the middle of the night to polish off all the dry food. Plus, he's always a little peeved that I haven't done the kitty litter right away in the morning. I'm a little concerned about him and him, since he's got the girth of two. So, I started giving him more attention and I let him sit on my lap while I had my quiet time. When I left this morning, his motor was running, and he was trying to melt all over the floor in the morning sun. Still, I have to recommend therapy. For the cat.
Note to self: Keep Spence out of the bedroom during the pre-vomit period immediately following din-din. That's right, he did it in the bedroom next to the bed, after the Green Can with the candlestick (for all you Clue lovers out there). Anyway, I had the Resolve, so I knew what to do and how to do it. Plus, did I ever mention that I had a cat for 20 years? I've been dealing with cat stuff since I was five! FIVE, I'll have you know. He knew he had done wrong, he pretty much made himself scarce after that for, oh, about 2 minutes until he needed another good petting.
I've decided to put the cats to work around the apartment. With all that nice long hair, why not use them as dust mops? I'm thinking I'm going to hog-tie them, attach a handle and push them around the floor. Maybe I'll wet Ben down and do some regular mopping if we're feeling energetic. Then again, maybe I'll just lay around and watch them play with the vacuum. Whatever. In any case I'm going to have to clean up after the party.
Well, things are great here Brian, hope you're having a good time in the city formerly known as Peking.
Regards,
Charlie
Night of the Living Dead
Found my belt!
Where is the damn can opener? How's a bachelor supposed to eat without a can opener?
Cats are actually zombies in disguise. They just want to eat your brains, or destroy them, or distract you to no end so you can't think and it rots away slowly into a big gob of snuggly goo. Last night they continued their sleep deprivation experiments. About every hour or so Spencer would tickle my face with his whiskers or purr in my ear, or jump on the bed just above my head. I never knew that snuggling could be so anxiety producing. I think Spencers job was to perform the experiments while Ben sat at the end of the bed taking notes. I may just close the bedroom door tonight, although I'm a little worried about the possible percussive repercussions.
As it is, by my calculations, it takes me almost twice as long to get anything done at the Fawkes home. I mean, something as simple as brushing teeth:
1. Pet cat.
2. Wash hands.
3. Pick cat up off sink and deposit in bedroom.
4. Other cat rubs on leg, must pet.
5. First cat gives snide look and flicks tail.
6. Pet first cat again.
7. Wash hands.
8. Begin brushing teeth.
Luckily I've begun practicing an ancient mental discipline. Every time I get into one of these seemingly difficult positions I ask myself this one simple question that, like a machete, cuts a path through the vines of kitty morass, clears the way, and propels me onward toward my destiny: "What would Brian Fawkes do?"
Spencer has a potentially serious self-esteem problem, and it's a good thing that he's kept cloistered. If any other cat (aside from our good friend Ben) heard such a frail squeeky voice coming out of this Adonis, well I guess we'd find out what it sounds like to hear a cat guffaw. The first time I heard it, I thought the cat could mew in falsetto. Nay, dear reader, 'tis a big cat carrying a small voice. Please don't tell him I said that. It would break his heart. I'm sure of it.
I almost went into the pool last night. I think I'll almost go in again tonight. Seriously, once you're up on floor 11, it's hard to get back down.
Regards,
Charlie
Where is the damn can opener? How's a bachelor supposed to eat without a can opener?
Cats are actually zombies in disguise. They just want to eat your brains, or destroy them, or distract you to no end so you can't think and it rots away slowly into a big gob of snuggly goo. Last night they continued their sleep deprivation experiments. About every hour or so Spencer would tickle my face with his whiskers or purr in my ear, or jump on the bed just above my head. I never knew that snuggling could be so anxiety producing. I think Spencers job was to perform the experiments while Ben sat at the end of the bed taking notes. I may just close the bedroom door tonight, although I'm a little worried about the possible percussive repercussions.
As it is, by my calculations, it takes me almost twice as long to get anything done at the Fawkes home. I mean, something as simple as brushing teeth:
1. Pet cat.
2. Wash hands.
3. Pick cat up off sink and deposit in bedroom.
4. Other cat rubs on leg, must pet.
5. First cat gives snide look and flicks tail.
6. Pet first cat again.
7. Wash hands.
8. Begin brushing teeth.
Luckily I've begun practicing an ancient mental discipline. Every time I get into one of these seemingly difficult positions I ask myself this one simple question that, like a machete, cuts a path through the vines of kitty morass, clears the way, and propels me onward toward my destiny: "What would Brian Fawkes do?"
Spencer has a potentially serious self-esteem problem, and it's a good thing that he's kept cloistered. If any other cat (aside from our good friend Ben) heard such a frail squeeky voice coming out of this Adonis, well I guess we'd find out what it sounds like to hear a cat guffaw. The first time I heard it, I thought the cat could mew in falsetto. Nay, dear reader, 'tis a big cat carrying a small voice. Please don't tell him I said that. It would break his heart. I'm sure of it.
I almost went into the pool last night. I think I'll almost go in again tonight. Seriously, once you're up on floor 11, it's hard to get back down.
Regards,
Charlie
First Night
7:23pm Arrival
I peer through the door, in the twilight 2 pairs of feline eyes peer back at me; fear, trepidation, curiosity. I enter, doff my cap, and rest for a moment. I had intended to arrive much earlier but was waylaid due to classified spy work I perform for the homeland security department. I had three more loads to bring up. By the time I opened the door for the fourth time, I get a look from Ben that says, "Oh, you again.", and Spencer is too busy to greet. Clearly I am hired help, and they are becoming impatient.
8:00 I quickly rifled through the book of instructions, the few chapter headings that stood out, like "Vomit" and "Kitty Litter" did not bode well. Turning to page 29, I find the section on food. Blue in the morning, green at night. Gravy. Rinse. I got it right. Spencer at the wet food. Ben did not. At first, I was proud of Spencer...
8:17 I hear a hideous chugging coming from under the kitchen table. If the cat were a car, it would have been trying to start, but just turning over and over. Spence vomits up all the food he just ate under the kitchen table (thank GOD it's on the floor and not the rug). I flip through the pages to Vomit, Chapter 7, page 43- blue bottle, paper towels, wipe wipe. When Brian proposed paying me for staying in his tony condo, I demured. How could I accept recompense for living in this swank urban retreat? I'll tell you how!!
8:30 I begin putting away my groceries. Man does not live on Wine and Brie alone. It's a spectator sport. Ben, perched on the stove, and Spencer on the table, judge my form. I think I got a 5.5. I'll work on it.
I skip dinner. I'm too damn tired. I unpack. I walk around trying to find simple things that ought to be in obvious places, but which I can't find anywhere. I begin leafing through Brian's novella- "Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About My Condo, But Were Afraid to Ask".
9:21 I take a break and sit on the sofa. Seizing the opportunity to shed on my clothing, Ben lobs himself deftly onto my lap. The rest of the evening is a blurr but I wind up in bed. How I got there, I'm not sure.
12:43am I awaken, briefly, to find Spencer measuring my head while Ben holds me down. I'm not sure, maybe they're prepping me for brain surgery. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.
5:34 I beat my alarm. Yes! I win! Wait, oh, what a drag. I need more sleep. I force myself to lay there. I lay there. I lay there some more. Continuing to lay there, I begin to think,... I hear an electronic beeping.
6:00 It's the alarm. I lay there. I force myself to get up. Oh joy! Ben and Spence are just soooooooo happy to see me. I think they're starving. Little do I suspect that I've been remiss in my duties and forgot to empty the litter box last night. Darnit! Never again!
6-6:30 CENSORED by Homeland Security.
6:30 I feed the cats. As soon as they're through eating, they take off. Ben harvests the last vestiges of warm emanating from the bed. Spencer is underneath working on his plans to take over the world through belly rubs.
7:00 I eat. Where is the measuring cup?! Where is a bowl?! Where are the spoons?! Where is the tea pot?! Oh my god! There's no tea pot!
7:15 Dressing. I forgot my belt at home!
7:30 Where is the car?! Where is the kitty poo recycling can?! I forgot my hat. I forgot my wallet. How do you back out of here? Oh man, how am I going to get the car back in. Argh! This is so relaxing I could just kill myself.
I peer through the door, in the twilight 2 pairs of feline eyes peer back at me; fear, trepidation, curiosity. I enter, doff my cap, and rest for a moment. I had intended to arrive much earlier but was waylaid due to classified spy work I perform for the homeland security department. I had three more loads to bring up. By the time I opened the door for the fourth time, I get a look from Ben that says, "Oh, you again.", and Spencer is too busy to greet. Clearly I am hired help, and they are becoming impatient.
8:00 I quickly rifled through the book of instructions, the few chapter headings that stood out, like "Vomit" and "Kitty Litter" did not bode well. Turning to page 29, I find the section on food. Blue in the morning, green at night. Gravy. Rinse. I got it right. Spencer at the wet food. Ben did not. At first, I was proud of Spencer...
8:17 I hear a hideous chugging coming from under the kitchen table. If the cat were a car, it would have been trying to start, but just turning over and over. Spence vomits up all the food he just ate under the kitchen table (thank GOD it's on the floor and not the rug). I flip through the pages to Vomit, Chapter 7, page 43- blue bottle, paper towels, wipe wipe. When Brian proposed paying me for staying in his tony condo, I demured. How could I accept recompense for living in this swank urban retreat? I'll tell you how!!
8:30 I begin putting away my groceries. Man does not live on Wine and Brie alone. It's a spectator sport. Ben, perched on the stove, and Spencer on the table, judge my form. I think I got a 5.5. I'll work on it.
I skip dinner. I'm too damn tired. I unpack. I walk around trying to find simple things that ought to be in obvious places, but which I can't find anywhere. I begin leafing through Brian's novella- "Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About My Condo, But Were Afraid to Ask".
9:21 I take a break and sit on the sofa. Seizing the opportunity to shed on my clothing, Ben lobs himself deftly onto my lap. The rest of the evening is a blurr but I wind up in bed. How I got there, I'm not sure.
12:43am I awaken, briefly, to find Spencer measuring my head while Ben holds me down. I'm not sure, maybe they're prepping me for brain surgery. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.
5:34 I beat my alarm. Yes! I win! Wait, oh, what a drag. I need more sleep. I force myself to lay there. I lay there. I lay there some more. Continuing to lay there, I begin to think,... I hear an electronic beeping.
6:00 It's the alarm. I lay there. I force myself to get up. Oh joy! Ben and Spence are just soooooooo happy to see me. I think they're starving. Little do I suspect that I've been remiss in my duties and forgot to empty the litter box last night. Darnit! Never again!
6-6:30 CENSORED by Homeland Security.
6:30 I feed the cats. As soon as they're through eating, they take off. Ben harvests the last vestiges of warm emanating from the bed. Spencer is underneath working on his plans to take over the world through belly rubs.
7:00 I eat. Where is the measuring cup?! Where is a bowl?! Where are the spoons?! Where is the tea pot?! Oh my god! There's no tea pot!
7:15 Dressing. I forgot my belt at home!
7:30 Where is the car?! Where is the kitty poo recycling can?! I forgot my hat. I forgot my wallet. How do you back out of here? Oh man, how am I going to get the car back in. Argh! This is so relaxing I could just kill myself.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Why this blog?
This blog started out as a republishing of all the fridge cleaning emails I sent, because people at work enjoyed reading them so much and I was afraid that they would all disappear in email hell. We'll see what I go on to say.
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