The minute he saw it on eBay he knew that the van with the porthole was a sure fire chick magnet. It was sexy boxy with full fender skirts that screamed style and danger, yet with a nautical theme and natural light - what gal wouldn't be impressed?! But other desperate dudes outbid him. He knew without the porthole van he was sunk, and was left to driving his crummy Datsun, which fostered the belief that he would never have sex in a vehicle, which actually turned out to be true.
How come keys don't have some kind of electronic name tag thingy that tells you what they go to? How many people in this world have keychains full of homeless keys they have no idea what they fit anymore? Like maybe a few billion? Well this is the Digital Age for cripes sake, why aren't our damn keys marked by now? Well?
August 3, 2010
Today went sideways at 5:45 AM when some car pulled into our property. The dogs alerted me to our visitors/intruders and I went out to investigate. A grizzled looking couple were parked down at our barn arguing in their ratty little car. As soon as they saw me, she slammed the accelerator down and shot out our driveway like a couple of potential criminals that had just been made. Jeez. It's two hours later, and nothing else has really happened, but with that kind of start, I'm inclined to think there might be further cosmic disturbances to come. You know? So I'm just sitting here sipping coffee, waiting.
August 4, 2010
Report: Nothing more untoward happened yesterday, but as you know, I was prepared in case it did, believe you me I had elaborate plans, no scenario left untouched, but nothing happened, so my preparations never really paid off, but of course would have, big time! had something gone down, but it didn't. Today I'm going planless, see how that goes.
There were only a few sheep left, but they were on the lookout.
August 6, 2010
I have observed a series of small events that culminated in providing an answer to a question that had been asked three days earlier, and one in which I had no answer for at the time. In three days, five distinct things happened, one leading to another, that resulted in my answer. That was neat to discover. But when I really thought about it, I realized that the initial component of the series of events had actually happened months before, and didn't manifest itself until three days ago, and wow, if I really thought about it, I could see years back to the original purchase of the thing and the decision that was made at the time to buy it, that would eventually spark the three days of events that I observed, bringing me here, with an answer to my question, and spawning yes, another question: Is life a series of Russian nesting dolls?
August 7, 2010
Doesn't fear of heights seem an innate thing? Why would we be born with a fear of heights? And for those who are afraid of heights, how do you mitigate that, because the fear is visceral, not intellectual. It's not like someone gives themselves the 'notion' that they're afraid of heights and can thus employ psychological tools to ameliorate the concept and its effects, no, when they truly are afraid of heights, it's their bodies that tell them they are afraid. So why would we be born with a fear of heights? Why would we be born with any kind of fears at all?
August 8, 2010
I saw an interview with a billionaire who has all the money he'll ever need, and yet he says he still worries about money. I thought that was pretty damn sad.
He started out constructing a simple shed but soon became so entranced with the geometry of the scaffolding that he never stopped putting up more. His obsession became an addiction, and depending on where one stood, mesmerizing. But eventually, squatters started living in the dense framework, the city revoked his shed permit, and his wife left him for an RV salesman who knew nothing about repetitive geometry, squatters or scaffolding. All of which begs the question: Are sheds evil?
August 10, 2010
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
How have Bush the moron and his henchmen escaped prison?
I mean, really.
And I love you.
August 11, 2010
Dumfounded, at a loss for words, I listened to this guy go on and on about exploits of the most implausible, fantastical kind, and when he was done telling his tales and asked for my thoughts, I could only shake my head. That's all I could do! I didn't even know where to start, what I could possibly say besides the obvious - You're nuts!; Good god, man!; and Are you serious?! Are you really serious?! He prodded me again, Well? I ended up telling him the truth: I'm at a loss for words, I said. He smiled like that sort of thing happens to him all the time.
August 12, 2010
All of our malamutes are shedding now. There's fur everywhere times three. None of the dogs particularly like being brushed and simply won't stand for it after a minute or two, so their undercoating can take months to naturally shed. Visitors wearing black are particularly vulnerable during this time. Maybe I should put a sign out front: Fashionistas beware.
August 13, 2010
Attention all television programming execs, I'm going to give you a great idea for a new, dedicated channel that could rewrite syndication. What about a channel that shows all of a television series from the first episode to the last, all the way through, one episode a day (not once a week), until the viewer has seen every episode of the entire series in chronological order. The schedule will run a different series every half hour or hour, all day long, every day, until that series is played out, only to be replaced with episode one of the next series. Make a big deal about the start of a new series, and hook your viewers from the beginning. Syndication at seven years gives a possible 182 shows. Shown at five episodes a week, that nine months of programming for an hour or a half hour time slot. Boom. Yes? All right then, my work is done here.
What if you had never tasted this kind of cookie before?
What if you did eat them and couldn't get the burned tasted out of your mouth?
How many would you have?
Would you save the rest?
Will you try again?
Will the next batch be any better or less burnt?
Has your reputation been affected?
Are people laughing with you or at you?
One sheet of cookies, so many questions.
August 15, 2010
I was in a good mood earlier, but not so much now. Been thinking. Serious business. Lots of questions. My good mood vanished in the process. Too bad, eh?
August 16, 2010
It's been so hot this Summer, the song birds have been battling between species (other birds, wasps and squirrels) for the use of a large concrete bird bath that's on our porch, so I hung up another water source on a dead birch tree at the opposite end of our yard for the overflow. Before I was even done filling it, nuthatches were already perching on the rim and drinking. If I may be so presumptuous as to speak on behalf of our local fauna, we can't wait for Fall.
August 17, 2010
If you were walking along the street and found a CD or DVD in an unmarked case, would you take it home and put it in your computer to see what was on it? Or would you be cautious, fearing a virus or a prank, and leave the disc right where you saw it because there's no way you're going to introduce an unknown into your computer? Curious or cautious, which would you be?
I don't care what era you did it in, how much you had to drink, what the peer pressure was like or how goofy you and your buddies were trying to be, a party hat is one of the silliest things a man can wear on his head. I'm sorry if the truth hurts.
August 20, 2010
I listened to a politician extol the "pleasures of power". It seemed a very pimp-like thing to say. So I looked up this guy's voting record. Basically, he was a bought and sold shill who took huge amounts of money from vested self-interest corporations to do their bidding. And he did, vote after vote, time after time. Even the newspapers in his district howl at his blatant prostitution, which makes my pimp-like reference uncanny, eh? Still, some people.
August 21, 2010
These two cubs came to "visit" a friend of ours the other day. Frankly, there is really no good time to have bears visit you, and hang out at your house, in your yard, lounging in the shade like it's a bear spa. You know?
August 22, 2010
For those of you still interested in my rocket ride this year, I must inform you that we're still building it. Turns out, rockets are tricky business; it's got all these parts. Plus, you want it to go straight when it's launched. That's a slippery slope. Of course, I'm making it sound way more technical than it is, mostly for dramatic effect. But that's the sum, chums. All right then, everybody's up to speed, vroom vroom. More to come.
August 23, 2010
A self-revealing moment showed that a frustration I had been having was due to a specific goal of mine, and that this frustration was completely in keeping with that goal, something I intellectually understood, but that meant accepting the frustration as a "good" thing, and that I should be "happy" that I was frustrated. Can you imagine?! Well, the frustration has now passed and it was exactly what I assumed it to be, and I am further toward my goal because of it, and let's face it, I'm a better man for having handled the frustration of my frustration, when I was frustrated the most, in the middle of being totally frustrated. Did that make sense?
August 24, 2010
I'm in the grocery store when a woman walks up to me and says, You don't know me, and I'm sorry for bothering you, but might I ask: Are you an artist? I thought she was a tourist and was going to ask for directions. Uh... When I didn't respond immediately, she added, You carry yourself like an artist, which didn't help me in determining what the heck was going on. By the time I had decided that yes, I am an artist, and told her so, she was already walking away down the aisle. And just how does an artist carry themselves so that one stranger could walk up to another stranger and declare that? Hmm.
August 25, 2010
I was accused of being cryptic. Of course, I couldn't confirm or deny that without risking my mystery. Perhaps I shrugged. I can't remember. The things I have to do.
August 26, 2010
One year ago, I was in a fertile creative period, and here again, I find myself repeating that delicious phenomenon. Since I barely know what month it is, the fact that I can correlate back to a year ago shows how productive and remarkable a period that was. And is being again. Work is going gooooood. How often does one get to say that?! No average mortal me! Ha!
Your life is a field of potential. What you manifest in this undefined landscape is up to you.
August 28, 2010
Overheard in the grocery store line:
Guy 1: The Chinese are the smartest people in the world.
Guy 2: Can't argue with you there.
Guy 1: It's a fact that every single Chinese person is smarter than any Canadian.
Guy 2: I didn't know that. So are we that dumb or are they that smart?
Guy 1: What? How should I know? These are the facts, Larry. Let's stick with the facts, ok?
Larry: Yeah, but-
Guy 1: Facts, Larry, hard proof. Your question, whatever it was, no proof. End of discussion.
August 29, 2010
This is kind of a semi-related non-sequitur with no point whatsoever, but I ended up following Guy 1 and Larry out to the car lot where we both happened to be parked in the same row. Frankly, I was pretty surprised when they walked over to a gorgeous, verrrrry expensive, pale blue Bentley and put their groceries in the trunk. A Bentley! And it was Larry's! Or at least he had the keys, and he drove it away, and the license plate said Larry 2. I dunno, the picture didn't fit the frame.
August 30, 2010
It's been a little bit of Alice In Wonderland here lately. I have been down the rabbit hole working hard enough for long enough that just this morning I noticed the grass in the yard was high enough to qualify as a vacant lot. Waaait, didn't I just mow that? When did I mow that? What month is this? I look around and notice that my surroundings have all gotten....hoarier. Jeez. But there will be no immediate sprucing here, I still have more work to do. At least that's what the Cheshire Cat said. Ta.
August 31, 2010
I was going to shred some files but first sorted them out. I put the pile of ones I wanted to shred, over here, and over there, the ones I didn't want to eliminate. (Can you tell what's coming?) The phone rang, I answered it, finished the call and went back to my piles, wrongly picking up the papers I wanted to keep, and started feeding them into the terrifying grinding metal jaws of shred. Shear shear, chomp chomp... Half a pile later, something in the stack catches my eye...waaait a minute...Damn! DAMN!
