Fig. 1: A geometric illustration of your host’s personality type I’ve got droopface, fresh from the dentist. Can’t wait to go back next month for the second round of fillings. I can’t really go out in public right now at the risk of drooling on myself or others, or else I’d go get my oil changed. So here I am, wasting my time and yours. Saturday night after work, Phil drove downtown and met me…
I gush about Jeanette Winterson a lot, I know. But I admire everything about her and her approach to life, which is decidedly deliberate and conscientious about everything, down to the damn sticks she picks up in her yard to make into Christmas decorations. Christmas is too good to waste on miserable shopping, endless guzzling, and frequent drunken collapses. Parties are great, and gifts are important, but it’s good to know what we are celebrating,…
It occurs to me that my sweeping generalization of photographers might be just a little unfair. So let me clarify. I don’t hate photographers; I wish I could do what they do. But my experiences throughout my life with photographers have taught me a valuable lesson: You can bank on the assumption that if you meet a photographer, he/she will turn out to be a jerk. A grumbly, grumpy, self-important jerk who can’t spell for…
It’s early. I just saw Phil off to work and Brandon, who drove up and stayed over last night, off to his interview with the CA. He’s trying for some techy web database job thing, and it would be really cool if he got it and moved to Memphis. Meanwhile, Cox is in D.C. interviewing for a job too. Cox, man, good luck! We’ve got a single-digit temperature wind chill outside right now. So I’m…
For Amber, my contribution to Tolstoy Tuesday: Act I This life, a dinner theatre for dead relatives, deserves better lighting and a script with clean line breaks,a protagonist who craves sex and solitude in equal doses:who won’t speak in strained metaphors when soliloquizingon the commute home from work.
I’m in a foul mood. Have been all day. It’s mostly related to money and not having enough to pay the rent or electricity/water on time. And being told that if I pay my rent two days late, I need to tack on a $70 late fee. Because it costs a lot to run a shitty apartment complex with maintenance people who leave giant toddler-sized holes in your ceiling for months on end. God, this…
For the dog that has everything … except nuts I went to the clinic with Phil today to walk dogs. (It was his weekend to work.) We made our way through the cages, taking each little pooch outside to the grassy median to do his/her business. Among them: a hyperactive Boston terrier, a sweet old daschund with mottled grey hair, a deaf King Charles spaniel, and an old, practically blind English bull terrier. And a…
About this time last year, Amber and I started getting weird anonymous posts on our blogs. I can’t remember the exact sequence of events, but I’m pretty sure they started on hers first. I probably replied snarkily to an anonymous comment at her place (I’d link, but The Phallic Pen has since been laid to rest), which served as an accidental invitation for the anonymous poster to come on over to my place and leave…
This morning, I’m dreaming: I’m at my great-grandmother’s house, walking on her patio out back, marveling at the trees, especially one whose branches form the outline of a skeleton, in repose, with an extraordinarily defined ribcage. And then somehow I find myself inside, though the interior of the house isn’t laid out like it is in reality, and I’m frantically trying to get someone to help me trim the ferrets’ nails and clean their ears…
You must be logged in to post a comment.