Wednesday, January 25, 2006
on a lighter note
Okay, not really. I lied.
It's just that I'm starting to think that British dude is right.
In keeping with the whole gloomy death theme of the week. . .
One year ago today this whole fucked up mess began.
- sigh -
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It's just that I'm starting to think that British dude is right.
In keeping with the whole gloomy death theme of the week. . .
One year ago today this whole fucked up mess began.
- sigh -
all around me are familiar faces
worn out places
worn out faces
bright and early for the daily races
going no where
going no where
their tears are filling up their glasses
no expression
no expression
hide my head i wanna drown my sorrow
no tomorrow
no tomorrow
and i find i kind of funny
i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which i'm dying are the best i've ever had
i find it hard to tell you
i find it hard to take
when people run in circles its a very very
mad world
mad world
children waiting for the day they feel good
happy birthday
happy birthday
and i feel the way that every child should
sit and listen
sit and listen
went to school and i was very nervous
no one knew me
no one new me
hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
look right through me
look right through me
and i find i kind of funny
i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which i'm dying are the best i've ever had
i find it hard to tell you
i find it hard to take
when people run in circles its a very very
mad world
mad world
enlarging your world
mad world
- Gary Jules
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Tuesday, January 24, 2006
the only thing
Today is the funeral for my great aunt and uncle. They will be buried in a small town cemetary near many of my other relatives and ancestors: grandparents, great-grandparents, generations before. . . my brother. . . all together.
I have not been there since my grandfather died in 1998.
Thinking of that place always reminds me of something my grandfather said many, many years ago.
I was visiting Iowa over the summer, during a break between college semesters. One afternoon, my parents, my sister, my grandfather, and myself climbed into grandfather's big Oldsmobile (he was an Olds man) and drove the short distance to the cemetary. It was our not quite annual but as often as we could get there trip to visit the graves of our departed family members.
When we arrived, my grandfather became excited. He said there was something he couldn't wait to show us. We parked the car and walked a short distance. There before us, with my grandfather pointing and beaming with pride, was a large headstone. The headstone had both his and my grandmother's name inscribed. The only information missing was the date of death. He was very proud of it.
I remember my mother was aghast. I remember the whole scene as being morbid in a darkly comic way.
My grandfather explained in his matter of fact practical common sense tone, "Well, it's the only thing I've ever bought that I know for sure I'm gonna need some day."
Yep.
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I have not been there since my grandfather died in 1998.
Thinking of that place always reminds me of something my grandfather said many, many years ago.
I was visiting Iowa over the summer, during a break between college semesters. One afternoon, my parents, my sister, my grandfather, and myself climbed into grandfather's big Oldsmobile (he was an Olds man) and drove the short distance to the cemetary. It was our not quite annual but as often as we could get there trip to visit the graves of our departed family members.
When we arrived, my grandfather became excited. He said there was something he couldn't wait to show us. We parked the car and walked a short distance. There before us, with my grandfather pointing and beaming with pride, was a large headstone. The headstone had both his and my grandmother's name inscribed. The only information missing was the date of death. He was very proud of it.
I remember my mother was aghast. I remember the whole scene as being morbid in a darkly comic way.
My grandfather explained in his matter of fact practical common sense tone, "Well, it's the only thing I've ever bought that I know for sure I'm gonna need some day."
Yep.
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Monday, January 23, 2006
tragic
Lee Irl Bausman, 87, and his wife Laureen, 79, died on Friday, January 20, 2006.
Tragic.
They were killed in an automobile accident. Their car hit an ice patch while travelling home on a small rural highway on a cold and wintery Iowa day. Lee Irl lost control, and the car slipped and spun into oncoming traffic where it collided with another car.
Laureen was dead at the scene. Her death was a nearly instantaneous result of the crash. Lee Irl died a few hours later, at the emergency room of a local hospital. It is unknown at this time whether he retained any consciousness prior to his death.
Tragic.
In yet another example of life's bittersweet irony, the accident that claimed their lives occurred while Lee Irl was driving his wife home from a doctor's appointment, presumably with the intention of prolonging and extending life.
Tragic.
The couple had just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. May we all have the good fortune to love and be loved for so long. There is some comfort in the knowledge that one was spared the inevitable and uncurable heartache of having to live for sometime without the other.
That small comfort does little now to ease the grieving of their family. But perhaps with time. . .
Tragic.
Sad dramas such as this doubtlessly unfold by the thousands on a daily basis. The vast majority pass unnoticed by the masses of humanity. If we even hear such sad news we are seldom touched by it because there is rarely a connection to our lives. People are born, people live and love, people die. Living the mundane minutae of our daily affairs isolates and insulates us from the lives of others. This is frequently as true of ones we hold dear as it is of the nameless faces we sometimes notice as we pass on the street, or most typically see looking with despair into the television camera.
Tragic.
While I recognize this issue, I am just like the rest of us in my oblivious ignorance of the affairs of others. I am only aware of an accident occuring on an obscure country road a thousand miles away because this one does touch my life.
Laureen Bausman was the sister of my maternal grandmother.
My mother is devastated by the sudden loss of her beloved aunt and uncle. Aunt Laureen was a pillar that supported my mother when her parents died in the 1990's. She had become very much a maternal figure to my mother.
I feel the numbing fog of shock and sorrow. And I feel some guilt. I feel guilt at allowing time and distance to separate me from the extended family with whom I spent many if not most of my idyllic Iowa childhood weekends.
Tragic.
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Tragic.
They were killed in an automobile accident. Their car hit an ice patch while travelling home on a small rural highway on a cold and wintery Iowa day. Lee Irl lost control, and the car slipped and spun into oncoming traffic where it collided with another car.
Laureen was dead at the scene. Her death was a nearly instantaneous result of the crash. Lee Irl died a few hours later, at the emergency room of a local hospital. It is unknown at this time whether he retained any consciousness prior to his death.
Tragic.
In yet another example of life's bittersweet irony, the accident that claimed their lives occurred while Lee Irl was driving his wife home from a doctor's appointment, presumably with the intention of prolonging and extending life.
Tragic.
The couple had just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. May we all have the good fortune to love and be loved for so long. There is some comfort in the knowledge that one was spared the inevitable and uncurable heartache of having to live for sometime without the other.
That small comfort does little now to ease the grieving of their family. But perhaps with time. . .
Tragic.
Sad dramas such as this doubtlessly unfold by the thousands on a daily basis. The vast majority pass unnoticed by the masses of humanity. If we even hear such sad news we are seldom touched by it because there is rarely a connection to our lives. People are born, people live and love, people die. Living the mundane minutae of our daily affairs isolates and insulates us from the lives of others. This is frequently as true of ones we hold dear as it is of the nameless faces we sometimes notice as we pass on the street, or most typically see looking with despair into the television camera.
Tragic.
While I recognize this issue, I am just like the rest of us in my oblivious ignorance of the affairs of others. I am only aware of an accident occuring on an obscure country road a thousand miles away because this one does touch my life.
Laureen Bausman was the sister of my maternal grandmother.
My mother is devastated by the sudden loss of her beloved aunt and uncle. Aunt Laureen was a pillar that supported my mother when her parents died in the 1990's. She had become very much a maternal figure to my mother.
I feel the numbing fog of shock and sorrow. And I feel some guilt. I feel guilt at allowing time and distance to separate me from the extended family with whom I spent many if not most of my idyllic Iowa childhood weekends.
Tragic.
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Sunday, January 22, 2006
culinary delight
The Wife, The Boy and I have just returned from a weekend trip to the Flatland to attend a wedding.
While there, we discovered the most perfect restaurant, ever.
Yes, yes, my dear reader, I sense your trepidation, I see the doubt in your furrowed brow. I too have no expectations to find such fine dining in such a place. So imagine my surprise, my sheer delight, when as I have stated, we discovered the most perfect restaurant ever.
The most perfect, and most pure.
By "pure" I mean that the visionary entrepreneur who opened and operates this fine establishment has taken all the finest concepts and ingredients of gourmet cuisine and distilled them down to their two most basic and fundamental elements.
Like some sort of gastronomic alchemy resulting in pure 24 carrot gold.
Oooooooooh, tasty.
I think. I'm not 100% sure.
I think we found the most perfect restaurant, ever. But I am only about 98% sure.
It was closed when we went there. Damn. For now I can only imagine the sheer deliciousity that lies in wait on the other side of those locked doors.
And as I am quite positive there is always accuracy in signage, I trust that the star rating in the sign for the establishment is both honest and accurate.
Join me now, my dear reader, and share the anxious delight of my anticipation:
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While there, we discovered the most perfect restaurant, ever.
Yes, yes, my dear reader, I sense your trepidation, I see the doubt in your furrowed brow. I too have no expectations to find such fine dining in such a place. So imagine my surprise, my sheer delight, when as I have stated, we discovered the most perfect restaurant ever.
The most perfect, and most pure.
By "pure" I mean that the visionary entrepreneur who opened and operates this fine establishment has taken all the finest concepts and ingredients of gourmet cuisine and distilled them down to their two most basic and fundamental elements.
Like some sort of gastronomic alchemy resulting in pure 24 carrot gold.
Oooooooooh, tasty.
I think. I'm not 100% sure.
I think we found the most perfect restaurant, ever. But I am only about 98% sure.
It was closed when we went there. Damn. For now I can only imagine the sheer deliciousity that lies in wait on the other side of those locked doors.
And as I am quite positive there is always accuracy in signage, I trust that the star rating in the sign for the establishment is both honest and accurate.
Join me now, my dear reader, and share the anxious delight of my anticipation:
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Tuesday, January 17, 2006
fertile Irish
With all due respect to the Irishmen I have known. . .
Scientists in Ireland may have found the country's most fertile male. . .
There's a joke in there somewhere about him being the guy that's the most sober.
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Scientists in Ireland may have found the country's most fertile male. . .
There's a joke in there somewhere about him being the guy that's the most sober.
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Friday, January 13, 2006
non-duty day
Today is a non-duty day. That means I don't have to work. So I'm not going to. So there. Na na na na nah nah. Yeah sure, my dear reader, I hear your whiny complaints, "But it's only Friday, it's not the weekend yet. I have to work. . . "
Well I don't. So there.
You see my dear reader, as a professional educator and molder of young minds I have a contract with the medium urban school district that is my employer. My contract states I work 220 days a school year (which if you are curious, runs from July 1 - June 30). A glitch in the school calendar would have required me to work 223 days this year. As my district is to cheap to even give its teachers a raise this year, they obviously do not wish to pay me for those three extra days. Stingy bastards. Therefore, I was told I have to take three days off before the end of June, three non-duty days. As I am required to take them, they are at my discretion. I chose to take one today.
I chose today because today is also The Wife's last day of her vacation. She starts her fourth and final semester of RN school next week. So we have one last day of vacation fun before the drudgery and daily grind of the springtime semester really kicks up and off.
I got up early this morning, got The Boy up and dressed. As it's The Wife's last day of vacation, I played the part of good husband and afforded her the luxury of sleeping in this morning. I took The Boy to school. I spent a few moments gloatily chatting with my coworkers and then my day of fun began. I am proud to say that I am about two weeks into a so far successful resolution to knock off those extra holiday pounds. I have just completed an hour at the gym. My new (to me, even if it is refurbished) ipod (no, not an ipod, a "bripod") provided the perfect soundtrack of AC/DC, Anthrax, Iron Maiden, and Slayer to get my heart pounding and body moving.
I am now rewarding my diligence by rocking out with The Replacements (I love the bripod) while enjoying a giant cup of hot coffee, a cold Lone Star, and a fresh pack of Camel Lights at my favorite neighborhood coffee shop.
So basically, so far, this has been a perfect day. Would that somehow, someday I have the opportunity to begin every day in such a fashion. But as that opportunity will most likely never materialize I will just enjoy this one.
Yeah yeah yeah, it may be somewhat contradictory for me to go straight from building my body up at the gym to tearing it back down with alcohol, caffeine, and nicotine, but I really don't give a fuck. Today is a non-duty day. I will not duty.
No sir, I will not.
Today's big plan? Hang out here till noon or so, enjoying the nothingness. Then home for a bit to play with The Boy and help pack his gear for an overnight trip home with The Nurse (and virtual aunt). She occassionally takes him home to visit her family. She has three boys of her own who totally love The Boy and play with him and crawl on him and run around him like all good wild young children do. He loves the excitement and he loves them. Plus, it provides a wonderful opportunity that The Wife and I cannot, he gets to interact and play with kids without disabilities.
Once The Boy is packed up and gone, The Wife and I have a date planned to spend the afternoon drinking strong margaritas and just generally hanging out enjoying each other's company.
From there? Who knows? A weekend that begins child free with strong margaritas has the potential to go almost anywhere.
Well, as Paul Westerberg sings, "I can't hardly wait."
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Well I don't. So there.
You see my dear reader, as a professional educator and molder of young minds I have a contract with the medium urban school district that is my employer. My contract states I work 220 days a school year (which if you are curious, runs from July 1 - June 30). A glitch in the school calendar would have required me to work 223 days this year. As my district is to cheap to even give its teachers a raise this year, they obviously do not wish to pay me for those three extra days. Stingy bastards. Therefore, I was told I have to take three days off before the end of June, three non-duty days. As I am required to take them, they are at my discretion. I chose to take one today.
I chose today because today is also The Wife's last day of her vacation. She starts her fourth and final semester of RN school next week. So we have one last day of vacation fun before the drudgery and daily grind of the springtime semester really kicks up and off.
I got up early this morning, got The Boy up and dressed. As it's The Wife's last day of vacation, I played the part of good husband and afforded her the luxury of sleeping in this morning. I took The Boy to school. I spent a few moments gloatily chatting with my coworkers and then my day of fun began. I am proud to say that I am about two weeks into a so far successful resolution to knock off those extra holiday pounds. I have just completed an hour at the gym. My new (to me, even if it is refurbished) ipod (no, not an ipod, a "bripod") provided the perfect soundtrack of AC/DC, Anthrax, Iron Maiden, and Slayer to get my heart pounding and body moving.
I am now rewarding my diligence by rocking out with The Replacements (I love the bripod) while enjoying a giant cup of hot coffee, a cold Lone Star, and a fresh pack of Camel Lights at my favorite neighborhood coffee shop.
So basically, so far, this has been a perfect day. Would that somehow, someday I have the opportunity to begin every day in such a fashion. But as that opportunity will most likely never materialize I will just enjoy this one.
Yeah yeah yeah, it may be somewhat contradictory for me to go straight from building my body up at the gym to tearing it back down with alcohol, caffeine, and nicotine, but I really don't give a fuck. Today is a non-duty day. I will not duty.
No sir, I will not.
Today's big plan? Hang out here till noon or so, enjoying the nothingness. Then home for a bit to play with The Boy and help pack his gear for an overnight trip home with The Nurse (and virtual aunt). She occassionally takes him home to visit her family. She has three boys of her own who totally love The Boy and play with him and crawl on him and run around him like all good wild young children do. He loves the excitement and he loves them. Plus, it provides a wonderful opportunity that The Wife and I cannot, he gets to interact and play with kids without disabilities.
Once The Boy is packed up and gone, The Wife and I have a date planned to spend the afternoon drinking strong margaritas and just generally hanging out enjoying each other's company.
From there? Who knows? A weekend that begins child free with strong margaritas has the potential to go almost anywhere.
Well, as Paul Westerberg sings, "I can't hardly wait."
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Monday, January 09, 2006
evil arrogant ignorant bastards
I say again, evil arrogant ignorant goat-fucking bastards.
This is really scary and just plain fucking wrong.
Not convinced, my dear reader?
Well then just read this (it's worth watching the brief ad if you are not a subscriber).
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This is really scary and just plain fucking wrong.
Not convinced, my dear reader?
Well then just read this (it's worth watching the brief ad if you are not a subscriber).
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Saturday, January 07, 2006
christmas, part 3
Holy fucking shit! I don't fucking believe I forgot this.
Please my dear reader, allow me to yet again indulge your forgiveness, for I fear I must confess that I have been terribly remiss in my duties.
You see, my dear reader, (and I offer no excuses, only explanations) I was so caught up in my own personal jihad (probably a rather crass or insensitive word choice given the current subject matter, yet like you my dear reader, I too strive to find my way closer to Fine) against The Great Celebration of Commerce, that I sorrowfully neglected to share something with you.
So again, I offer humblest apologies.
Thanks to a friend, I have discovered a wonderful rant on the subject at hand. It was my intention to share this weeks ago.
It is a rant by an artist who works in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay.
Truly special, truly wonderful, not to be missed.
I proudly present:
Fuck Christmas
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Please my dear reader, allow me to yet again indulge your forgiveness, for I fear I must confess that I have been terribly remiss in my duties.
You see, my dear reader, (and I offer no excuses, only explanations) I was so caught up in my own personal jihad (probably a rather crass or insensitive word choice given the current subject matter, yet like you my dear reader, I too strive to find my way closer to Fine) against The Great Celebration of Commerce, that I sorrowfully neglected to share something with you.
So again, I offer humblest apologies.
Thanks to a friend, I have discovered a wonderful rant on the subject at hand. It was my intention to share this weeks ago.
It is a rant by an artist who works in profanity the way other artists might work in oils or clay.
Truly special, truly wonderful, not to be missed.
I proudly present:
Fuck Christmas
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festival of drunkeness
Ancients Rang In New Year with Dance, Beer
They drank to enter an altered state so that they might witness the epiphany of a deity
Really, like when The President talks to God?
Many ancient Egyptians marked the first month of the New Year by singing, dancing and drinking red beer until they passed out
Only the first month?
Pussies.
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They drank to enter an altered state so that they might witness the epiphany of a deity
Really, like when The President talks to God?
Many ancient Egyptians marked the first month of the New Year by singing, dancing and drinking red beer until they passed out
Only the first month?
Pussies.
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Tuesday, January 03, 2006
you may kiss the bride
. . . and so I did.
It's been two wonderful years, raise a toast to decades more to come!
Happy Anniversary!
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It's been two wonderful years, raise a toast to decades more to come!
Happy Anniversary!
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Monday, January 02, 2006
and a happy new year
(file under the ongoing perils of the Good Doctor Noyz)
The Holiday season ended yesterday as it began: falling down.
Not fallling down drunk, although alcohol was typically involved at some point in the story, but falling down nonetheless.
Yes it's shocking but true, I have been known to indulge in the consumption of alcohol. (He typed as he sipped from his heavily spiked with dark rum morning coffee. But don' gimme no shit, it's the last day of my vacation.)
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, whilst on a routine bicycle outing to meet the boys for a beer, (stone cold sober at the time) I found a previously undiscovered hole in a street near my home and went flying headfirst and ass-upwards over the handlebars. The whole experience left me looking something like this. (The photos were taken four days after the incident. Believe me, my dear reader, it looked much worse immediately afterwards.):
And while many a lesser man would have interpreted that as a sign of Divine Providence and limped sadly home, opportunities for spending an afternoon while bicycling to beer are not as frequent as they once were.
I am afterall, first and foremost, a family man. But family man or not, as I have stated, these opportunities are not to be missed.
I dusted myself off, jumped up and back on, and continued to meet the boys at the local coffeeshop and starting point.
Oh, and the look on the faces of the girls who worked there! Imagine your reaction if you looked up from behind the espresso machine and saw a road rolling filthy hippie missing huge chunks of skin and literally dripping blood from three of his four limbs walking into your establishment.
Priceless.
Jumping back to the present. . .
Last night, when riding home from an afternoon of biking and beer with the boys, I had another incident. Granted, I spent much of the time tempting fate and taunting Eris by making jokes about my previous misadventure and recent prediliction for falling off my bicycle.
Or just falling while near it, as was the case when walking home from a tailgate party festivities in October because I lacked the balance to steady myself while riding. Thanks a whole fucking lot for that Spew and Sloth. Damn you bastards for controlling my mind with your not so subtle peer pressure and multiple deliciously evil Russian Quaaludes at a long favorite watering hole. It is true, some hills are just too steep to climb. My shoulder still hurts.
Jumping back again to the relative present and continue with where I left off before my Russian Quaalude confession. . .
Do not, my dear reader, I repeat do not, taunt or trifle with the heart and affairs of the beloved Goddess Eris.
'cause she will fuck you.
And not in the fun way.
More in the "bend over and grab your ankles, here comes a stack of unlubed tuna cans" type of way.
After riding around without incident all afternoon, joking as I went past every pothole, obstacle and potential hazard. . .
As I am literally feet from being safely home, turning into the driveway, I can see the door. . .
I turn through this. . .
I feel my back wheel begin to slide. I think, "Holy fuck, and I'm so damn close to home. I almost made it."
I wind up flat on my ass staring up at the sky and looking like this. . .
Sweet merciful crap.
May we all have a 2006 free from falling.
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The Holiday season ended yesterday as it began: falling down.
Not fallling down drunk, although alcohol was typically involved at some point in the story, but falling down nonetheless.
Yes it's shocking but true, I have been known to indulge in the consumption of alcohol. (He typed as he sipped from his heavily spiked with dark rum morning coffee. But don' gimme no shit, it's the last day of my vacation.)
The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, whilst on a routine bicycle outing to meet the boys for a beer, (stone cold sober at the time) I found a previously undiscovered hole in a street near my home and went flying headfirst and ass-upwards over the handlebars. The whole experience left me looking something like this. (The photos were taken four days after the incident. Believe me, my dear reader, it looked much worse immediately afterwards.):
And while many a lesser man would have interpreted that as a sign of Divine Providence and limped sadly home, opportunities for spending an afternoon while bicycling to beer are not as frequent as they once were.
I am afterall, first and foremost, a family man. But family man or not, as I have stated, these opportunities are not to be missed.
I dusted myself off, jumped up and back on, and continued to meet the boys at the local coffeeshop and starting point.
Oh, and the look on the faces of the girls who worked there! Imagine your reaction if you looked up from behind the espresso machine and saw a road rolling filthy hippie missing huge chunks of skin and literally dripping blood from three of his four limbs walking into your establishment.
Priceless.
Jumping back to the present. . .
Last night, when riding home from an afternoon of biking and beer with the boys, I had another incident. Granted, I spent much of the time tempting fate and taunting Eris by making jokes about my previous misadventure and recent prediliction for falling off my bicycle.
Or just falling while near it, as was the case when walking home from a tailgate party festivities in October because I lacked the balance to steady myself while riding. Thanks a whole fucking lot for that Spew and Sloth. Damn you bastards for controlling my mind with your not so subtle peer pressure and multiple deliciously evil Russian Quaaludes at a long favorite watering hole. It is true, some hills are just too steep to climb. My shoulder still hurts.
Jumping back again to the relative present and continue with where I left off before my Russian Quaalude confession. . .
Do not, my dear reader, I repeat do not, taunt or trifle with the heart and affairs of the beloved Goddess Eris.
'cause she will fuck you.
And not in the fun way.
More in the "bend over and grab your ankles, here comes a stack of unlubed tuna cans" type of way.
After riding around without incident all afternoon, joking as I went past every pothole, obstacle and potential hazard. . .
As I am literally feet from being safely home, turning into the driveway, I can see the door. . .
I turn through this. . .
I feel my back wheel begin to slide. I think, "Holy fuck, and I'm so damn close to home. I almost made it."
I wind up flat on my ass staring up at the sky and looking like this. . .
Sweet merciful crap.
May we all have a 2006 free from falling.
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