The Strokes show was incredible. Phil and I danced our asses off. (I don’t dance.) They rocked every song from beginning to end. And the light show was pretty badass too. So I had a weekend fling with Nashville. I had forgotten all about its remarkable cleanliness (you have to admit, Memphis is kinda dirty … kinda real dirty) and how nice and countrified people are there. And how much better the thrift stores are.…
I know what’s going to happen when I go to Nashville and Murfreesboro. Seeing my friends and the places I’d grown to love is going to rekindle that homesickness I’m wrestling with and had decided to quash for good just a week or two ago. It’s what happened the last time I visited. October. I had nearly made peace with my geography then, and then a few days’ worth of Nashville spoiled the rest of…
Happy Friday (Thursday for me). Here’s a funny video I saw linked over at Pandagon. You have to scroll down a bit to get to the indie rock goodness. AppetizerHow many pillows and blankets do you sleep with?Two pillows, a sheet, a paper-thin comforter, and a blanket. SoupWhat are you currently “addicted” to?Complaining. SaladIf you could make a small change to your current routine or schedule that would make you just a little bit happier,…
I think I’ve broken my ankle. This week can’t end fast enough. If you were to take the notion of utter chaos and anarchy and cube it, you still would not be able to fathom the depths of the amazing fucked-upitude at work. It’s sucking out my soul, people, and it ain’t just me. The times the designers just look at each other and shake their heads in complete disbelief and confusion and desperation per…
Huck, you sneaky devil! Now everyone will know just how many great books I haven’t read and how pedestrian all my favorites are. And I had such a ruse going! OK, maybe I didn’t. [1] Name 5 of your favorite books 1. Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson. This book was assigned to me in a Women and Lit class and turned out to be my first foray into the Winterson world. Winterson’s dreamlike,…
I wrote a poem about work. It’s ridiculous, I know. But I figure sometimes abject horror and limitless frustration is best expressed through blank verse poetry. Especially when I can’t get into all the details on the blog. I’ve been so busy at work I have no idea what’s going on in the news. So I’m going to find out right … now. The important: There’s apparently video (uncovered by the AP!) of Bush being…
Whatever meager joyI had taken in youhas been sucked outand fed to the toothy beasts of profit and complication, my throat swollenwith nerves and angeras I dance a fool’s danceon dignity’s grave.
In his natural habitat, the hard-working man is almost always more comfortable in flannel. My pops turns 51 today. I called home to wish him a happy birthday and found out he was at work. If I could have three wishes, one of them would be early retirement and a hefty pension for him, so he could get away from that paper mill and pursue his Civil War re-enactment passion full-time. I can’t think of…
I have a work hangover. We all have days at work that make us re-evaluate our chosen career paths. Yesterday was the kind of day that made me re-evaluate my entire existence. For the first time since working at Sidelines, I came home exhausted from sitting at a desk all night. How do you get physically exhausted at a desk job? I’ll tell you: Sit on the edge of your seat for seven hours straight,…
Forgive my nerdiness for saying so, but I’ve had a productive day. Phil and I took the ferrets to the park to frolic, and explained to a couple of curious pot-smoking bums — one of whom said he was allergic to ferrets — all about little Felix and Gonz and their silly habits. Then Grandmaw came up to visit for a bit. She’s in town taking a class to update her AARP driver instructor status.…
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