Where the dead trees go to rest. Tonight some co-workers regaled me with tales of some of the crazier CA shenanigans over the years. Tales of open gunfire out front on Union Avenue translating into people inside (there are huge glass windows fronting our building) hitting the deck and hiding under their desks. Tales of a crazy man who lived on the fifth floor without anyone noticing for … weeks? Tales of another crazy man…
Have you guys ever read the Urban Dictionary entries for “Hotty Toddy”? This one’s funny: Contrary to popular misconception, hotty toddy is neither a fight song nor an attempt to trigger (pun intended) LSU fans’ suicide by shooting themselves (since they have reason enough to do so just by virtue of being LSU fans). Rather, it is a heartening cheer exchanged between Ole Miss Rebel fans to ensure that they are still sober enough to…
Woke up today and saw my new wireless mouse on the hardwood floor, belly-up, its battery plate beside it. Helpless. Wonder how it got on the floor.
I can’t imagine anything more … odd … than an old-poetry dump here at T&G, since I don’t write much poetry these days and poetry is one of those things that people either love or hate. (And most people lean toward the hate side.) But for whatever reason, I was combing through my e-mail drafts earlier today (*cough*boredom*cough*) and rediscovered all sorts of weird little blank verses I’d written over the past four years, and…
I knew, even as I was setting up this shot, that I was visually plagiarizing a much better photographer, MadMolecule, and I decided, rather than do anything truly original, that I’d just call it an homage and be done. [Project 365]
It’s late and I’ve had some leftover champagne, so surely I can be forgiven for waxing romantic about notions of life and creativity and love on all levels. I was reading a fairly depressing comment thread over at Salon the other day (depressing in that so many people want to dispense advice to an author who isn’t even asking for it) and this poem cropped up in it, like some little pearl ascending out of…
For Christmas, my friend Ashley gave me several bottles of flavored syrup for my coffee. I tried the caramel today. It was the shit. So I got hopped upon caffeine and took pictures of the bottles. 2009 sure is looking promising in the excitement department! Actually, Ashley gave me those socks in yesterday’s picture, too. Here’s to Ashley for making my P365 possible so far! [Project 365]
And I don’t feel any different. Except I have much cooler socks. So I’m back on the bandwagon again. Pretty excited, even though I’m lacking inspiration at the moment. It’ll come. It always does. It’s just that the start of a new year tends to piss me off more than it tends to inspire. This isn’t the Vanity365 I tried then aborted in the spring of 2008, although self-portraits aren’t off limits (obvs). This is…
Those of you with small pets or even tiny mobile children know what it’s like to be lying in bed and feel the familiar shift of the mattress and the soft, uneven plod of four limbs as they amble slowly and unsurely toward you. Right? Pretty standard stuff. I was lying in bed, on my stomach, this morning, just enjoying being prone in the sunshine, when I felt the mattress jar and those footsteps come…
Good god almighty, this morning I woke up with what may have taken the honor of being the worst headache I have ever had. I’ve thought that I had migraines before, but now I’m not so sure. It pulsed and pounded and sent me writhing all over the bed, opening the windows to let in cool air. Waves of nausea. The crush of light from the window. The inability to find a way to lie…
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