Yesterday was the first weekday on my vacation and a pretty satisfying day at that. Aside from my nose draining into my throat, all was well in the world. I got a haircut and beard trim, so I no longer look like I escaped from a hobo camp. I stopped at the Great Escape, which is always a pleasant experience for me. I drove to Elizabeth's work at 1pm, picked her up for lunch, and drove to Q-Doba, which I've warmed up to. We sat in the window while we ate. A bum walked by, as bums are known to do. As he walked by the window, he looked directly at two emo/hipster type guys, both wearing girl pants, looked at us, made effeminate hand gestures, and laughed at both as they passed.
Allow me to reiterate. A homeless man, a deaf homeless man as it were, still finds it in his heart to clown two hipsters. It may have been one of the most satisfying things I've experienced in quite some time. I laughed out loud.
And this is why I love living in the Weirdo Part of town. I am blessed with oddity on a daily basis. One of my favorite accounts came about six months ago, at least as my recollection serves. Elizabeth and I were walking home from something. I don't recall what. We were near our house when we heard a flute in the distance. This kid was sitting on his porch, looking really sullen, and angst ridden, and playing a flute. I had this magnificent vision that he was on the porch after an argument with his parents. In my head, it went like this:
Mom: Blah, Blah... you're grounded.
Boy: I hate you mom!
Then he storms outside and plays Aqualung and thinks about running away. I love the Highlands.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Brain Pudding
I woke up this morning at 7am, so I could do this on a bicycle. I made a litany of mistakes. I did not take water, thinking their would be ample opportunity for that on the trail. I did not wear any sunscreen. Sweat poured into my eyes, because I had no headgear. This was only aggravated by the sunburn I developed about half-way through; this trail has almost no shade for the entirety of the trip. Never let it be said that I'm a smart man.
I didn't arrive home until about 12:30pm. There was a wealth of errands that needed running today and I knew if I didn't ask to leave immediately, I would fall asleep for an indeterminate amount of time. So, after a shower, the wife and I headed to the mall, one of my least favorite places in earth. Four or so hours later, I arrived home.
My second wind had come. I had a little beer and proceeded to watch Southland Tales , while reading Final Crisis . I think I gave my brain scoliosis. Both the movie and the comic are batshit insane. Typifying either as esoteric does an injustice to the word. I'm not sure what Southland Tales was about. I didn't hate it, but I also didn't take much from it. Richard Kelly directed the movie and I can only imagine that it was a prank on Hollywood. Not only was the plot abstract and surreal, but it seemed to imply that efforts at renewable energy were a negative thing. This confuses and saddens me. I can only hope that Richard Kelly got it out of his system as The Box looks really interesting.
It's interesting to compare Southland Tales with Final Crisis, as the latter makes the former seem like Die Hard by comparison. Grant Morrison wrote it, which, for anyone that remains remotely familiar with comics should know, means that it made the concept of "insane" watered down. In a lot of ways Morrison is the real deal. When he wrote The Invisibles he actually tried to convince the public to have a 'wankathon', wherein everyone would masturbate at the same time everywhere on Earth as part of some sexual magic spell. I'm serious. DC was not particularly pleased with his use of the letters section.
That said, Final Crisis is some sort of surreal tribute to Jack Kirby's Fourth World , which I'm mostly unfamiliar with. I've read various things where Morrison explained that he wanted to create some sort of hyperactive comic, something that was so far removed from form and convention that it would be impossible to relate as a movie, and I'm fairly certain that he succeeded. Superman plugs a hole in the universe to stop Mandrakk, a vampiric Monitor (don't ask), from doing something rotten. I'm not sure what. And that's just part of it. If that doesn't send up giant WTF flags, I'm not sure what will.
And now my brain is off. I kind of just want to watch Full House or something like that, but I'm afraid that my perception, at least for the day, is tainted by hyper-fiction, beer, and the exhaustion of a 27.5 mile bike ride. At least I supposedly burned off some calories. That certainly doesn't hurt anything.
Incidentally, I thank my wife for showing me how html code works. Not only is she nicer looking than me, but she is smarter than I am, which doesn't say much. I am a lucky man.
I didn't arrive home until about 12:30pm. There was a wealth of errands that needed running today and I knew if I didn't ask to leave immediately, I would fall asleep for an indeterminate amount of time. So, after a shower, the wife and I headed to the mall, one of my least favorite places in earth. Four or so hours later, I arrived home.
My second wind had come. I had a little beer and proceeded to watch Southland Tales , while reading Final Crisis . I think I gave my brain scoliosis. Both the movie and the comic are batshit insane. Typifying either as esoteric does an injustice to the word. I'm not sure what Southland Tales was about. I didn't hate it, but I also didn't take much from it. Richard Kelly directed the movie and I can only imagine that it was a prank on Hollywood. Not only was the plot abstract and surreal, but it seemed to imply that efforts at renewable energy were a negative thing. This confuses and saddens me. I can only hope that Richard Kelly got it out of his system as The Box looks really interesting.
It's interesting to compare Southland Tales with Final Crisis, as the latter makes the former seem like Die Hard by comparison. Grant Morrison wrote it, which, for anyone that remains remotely familiar with comics should know, means that it made the concept of "insane" watered down. In a lot of ways Morrison is the real deal. When he wrote The Invisibles he actually tried to convince the public to have a 'wankathon', wherein everyone would masturbate at the same time everywhere on Earth as part of some sexual magic spell. I'm serious. DC was not particularly pleased with his use of the letters section.
That said, Final Crisis is some sort of surreal tribute to Jack Kirby's Fourth World , which I'm mostly unfamiliar with. I've read various things where Morrison explained that he wanted to create some sort of hyperactive comic, something that was so far removed from form and convention that it would be impossible to relate as a movie, and I'm fairly certain that he succeeded. Superman plugs a hole in the universe to stop Mandrakk, a vampiric Monitor (don't ask), from doing something rotten. I'm not sure what. And that's just part of it. If that doesn't send up giant WTF flags, I'm not sure what will.
And now my brain is off. I kind of just want to watch Full House or something like that, but I'm afraid that my perception, at least for the day, is tainted by hyper-fiction, beer, and the exhaustion of a 27.5 mile bike ride. At least I supposedly burned off some calories. That certainly doesn't hurt anything.
Incidentally, I thank my wife for showing me how html code works. Not only is she nicer looking than me, but she is smarter than I am, which doesn't say much. I am a lucky man.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
You Win Again Skynet/An Ode to Shawn Doss
So I found an article on how having a beer gut is apparently trendy in Brooklyn right now. I found it here: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/13/fashion/13POTBELLY.html?_r=3&scp=1&sq=hip%20to%20be%20round&st=cse?no_interstitial
But this link looks like shit. And that's a serious indictment. I'd like to put something clever in the link field and then you click on something that says "Hell Yeah!" or something sassy like that, because I want to sound sassy. But the interweb and by extension, computers hate me. They do. Don't think that they don't, because I know that someone reading this is. I should not have to spend two hours trying to figure out how to be e-clever, but apparently blogger thinks I should. So I suppose from here forward, I get to post cumbersome links, that are 100% sassy free. This causes much sadness in my world. I guess that ought to tell you where my head is.
In regards to this article though, I'm pretty excited. I've finally made it. I'm going to poor beer into ice cream and eat it for lunch. I'm going to melt my weight set down into an iron lung, because breathing is so 2008. I'm going to model myself after Shawn Doss, a kid I went to school with. Shawn exclusively wore sweat clothes. He was the Don of the Magic the Gathering set. He bullied his grandmother (Me-Maw) into giving up her SSI money so he could afford the best cards. I mean, that Black Lotus isn't going to buy itself now is it?
I have it on good authority that Shawn had a tape that only had 'Highway to the Dangerzone' on it, over and over again. Apparently his number one hobby aside from terrorizing his grandmother out of her money was to pound down bowls of chili and rock Kenny Loggins. For Shawn, consuming chili in mass quantity was the highway to the dangerzone. This has the unfortunate effect of making us all consider what exactly the dangerzone itself is. I'd rather not speculate myself.
So here's to Shawn Doss. The coolest guy in Brooklyn right now. Suck on that Sonic Youth.
But this link looks like shit. And that's a serious indictment. I'd like to put something clever in the link field and then you click on something that says "Hell Yeah!" or something sassy like that, because I want to sound sassy. But the interweb and by extension, computers hate me. They do. Don't think that they don't, because I know that someone reading this is. I should not have to spend two hours trying to figure out how to be e-clever, but apparently blogger thinks I should. So I suppose from here forward, I get to post cumbersome links, that are 100% sassy free. This causes much sadness in my world. I guess that ought to tell you where my head is.
In regards to this article though, I'm pretty excited. I've finally made it. I'm going to poor beer into ice cream and eat it for lunch. I'm going to melt my weight set down into an iron lung, because breathing is so 2008. I'm going to model myself after Shawn Doss, a kid I went to school with. Shawn exclusively wore sweat clothes. He was the Don of the Magic the Gathering set. He bullied his grandmother (Me-Maw) into giving up her SSI money so he could afford the best cards. I mean, that Black Lotus isn't going to buy itself now is it?
I have it on good authority that Shawn had a tape that only had 'Highway to the Dangerzone' on it, over and over again. Apparently his number one hobby aside from terrorizing his grandmother out of her money was to pound down bowls of chili and rock Kenny Loggins. For Shawn, consuming chili in mass quantity was the highway to the dangerzone. This has the unfortunate effect of making us all consider what exactly the dangerzone itself is. I'd rather not speculate myself.
So here's to Shawn Doss. The coolest guy in Brooklyn right now. Suck on that Sonic Youth.
Friday, August 14, 2009
RadioShaq
Dear Shaquille O'Neal
Radioshack will soon change its name to 'The Shack'. I can't be certain why they think this is a good idea, unless they just want to bewilder their patrons. But you know, 'Radio' isn't a cool buzz word or anything, so you know, make it more extreme. What will they think of next?
I see this as an opportunity for you to become a spokesperson. I feel like the ads write themselves. The shot opens with you (Shaq) with your back to the camera, perusing a number of fine electronics items sold at the Shack. You are wearing your basketball Jersey and you are sweaty. An employee walks over and hands you a towel. You turn to face the camera and say "after a long day of hooping, I just have to go to the Shack." Then you give a thumbs up to the camera as you buy an iPod and a 1/8' to 1/4 adapter for your home stereo.
Carpe Diem, Shaq. That next Fu-Schnickens record won't bankroll itself.
Your pal,
-syd
Radioshack will soon change its name to 'The Shack'. I can't be certain why they think this is a good idea, unless they just want to bewilder their patrons. But you know, 'Radio' isn't a cool buzz word or anything, so you know, make it more extreme. What will they think of next?
I see this as an opportunity for you to become a spokesperson. I feel like the ads write themselves. The shot opens with you (Shaq) with your back to the camera, perusing a number of fine electronics items sold at the Shack. You are wearing your basketball Jersey and you are sweaty. An employee walks over and hands you a towel. You turn to face the camera and say "after a long day of hooping, I just have to go to the Shack." Then you give a thumbs up to the camera as you buy an iPod and a 1/8' to 1/4 adapter for your home stereo.
Carpe Diem, Shaq. That next Fu-Schnickens record won't bankroll itself.
Your pal,
-syd
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