A delightfully stretchy companion.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
WOW that's a long elastic
A jubilant mother is not an uncommon sight in our household. Here she is in her spacious loft studio, excited at my record blogging streak of TWO WHOLE DAYS!
I wanted to write about something interesting, but I've forgotten what it was, so I'll just mention that last night I dreamt about tricking my captors into swimming in an oatmeal ocean as I escaped into a conveniently located forest.
Brilliant, I know.
I wish I was one of those just intrinsically fascinating people; you know, the kind that let it slip that they are Christian scholars of the Yiddish Theater, or experts on the taxonomy of the Falkland Islands.
I think I'll try to learn Yiddish. It would be nice if my brain was hard-wired to understand space-time continuoms, metaphysics, or suitcase packing, but I'll just have to accept my mediocre understanding of such things and focus my energy on....twig dissections.
What is the title of this Boondoggle?*
So I'm lazy. Sorry about that.
In addition to actually imbibing sloth itself, I have this nasty habit of blurting out (if one can blurt in print) the fact. Any attempt to shield from my public my inner nature is thus foiled from the get-go (does anyone else have the desire to take a cue from Petco and recite: "Getgo. Where the Gets go." Or is that just me?), and pretending purity of heart and prolificicity** becomes an instant sham.
I must also enlist my vast storehouse of mental and physical--the existence of the latter unfortunately in heated dispute--capabilities to refrain from beginning every post or line with common phrases such as 'The thing is', 'anyway', etc. because such language cannot possibly coincide with my brave, self-sacrificing mission to convince America that I am as smart as I appear to be.
Perhaps this verbal dodderage that clutters the beginnings of each post is simply my manner of um-ing my way through the bullshit that one must sort through before the final gem of a post.
And now that we're there--
But wait. It's not as if I don't know what to write; contrary to my long held belief that good stories are like classroom acquaintances (they only call you once a year when they're out with croup and they need the Geometry problem sets), I've found that they're actually a lot more like my friend Devin. Namely, they aim to hug at all possible opportunities.
Maybe I'm just frightened. I like that word. It's so quaint. Someone who uses the word 'frightened' can't possibly have much to be afraid of, don't you think? Only people from, like, eighteenth century England used that word. Not like the rest of this post at all.
* Boondoggle n. v. 1. Work of little value done merely to keep or look busy. 2. to do such work.
Post title inspired (who am I kidding, directly stolen from) mother's reading, after which she exclaimed "What is the title of this Boondoggle?"
Neither of us knew the meaning of this word.
**Spellcheck (i.e. my mother) informs me that the word is actually 'proliferation'. And my imbecility comes out again in the form of (a) spelling mishaps and (b) the fact that I informed you of said spelling mishap.
In addition to actually imbibing sloth itself, I have this nasty habit of blurting out (if one can blurt in print) the fact. Any attempt to shield from my public my inner nature is thus foiled from the get-go (does anyone else have the desire to take a cue from Petco and recite: "Getgo. Where the Gets go." Or is that just me?), and pretending purity of heart and prolificicity** becomes an instant sham.
I must also enlist my vast storehouse of mental and physical--the existence of the latter unfortunately in heated dispute--capabilities to refrain from beginning every post or line with common phrases such as 'The thing is', 'anyway', etc. because such language cannot possibly coincide with my brave, self-sacrificing mission to convince America that I am as smart as I appear to be.
Perhaps this verbal dodderage that clutters the beginnings of each post is simply my manner of um-ing my way through the bullshit that one must sort through before the final gem of a post.
And now that we're there--
But wait. It's not as if I don't know what to write; contrary to my long held belief that good stories are like classroom acquaintances (they only call you once a year when they're out with croup and they need the Geometry problem sets), I've found that they're actually a lot more like my friend Devin. Namely, they aim to hug at all possible opportunities.
Maybe I'm just frightened. I like that word. It's so quaint. Someone who uses the word 'frightened' can't possibly have much to be afraid of, don't you think? Only people from, like, eighteenth century England used that word. Not like the rest of this post at all.
* Boondoggle n. v. 1. Work of little value done merely to keep or look busy. 2. to do such work.
Post title inspired (who am I kidding, directly stolen from) mother's reading, after which she exclaimed "What is the title of this Boondoggle?"
Neither of us knew the meaning of this word.
**Spellcheck (i.e. my mother) informs me that the word is actually 'proliferation'. And my imbecility comes out again in the form of (a) spelling mishaps and (b) the fact that I informed you of said spelling mishap.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
I'm a little hungry
I can't read what I'm typing, so if I misspell, misspeak, or misbehave I think forgiveness is in order. Why this sudden stroke of blindness? I have a MacBook Pro!!!! And the font is so tiny I can't read it and still haven't figured out how to MAKE IT BIGGER than that. Although I'm sure you're reading this just fine.
But it's okay because I get to be Andy Warhol!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Rampant Mongoose Storms Iceland!
Soon I will add photography and other unheard-of delicacies to this blog. Soon meaning in the next 39870 days. Or when I feel like it.
I was cataloging DVDs at work today and came across one called The Big Sheep.
Hmmm. One sheep or many?
And then I realized that it was called The Big Sleep.
And that was my day at work.
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