Sunday, October 29, 2006
items of interest from recent news
While this is just funny. . .
Meet the Antichrist
This should scare the fucking shit out of you. . .
How to steak an election by hacking the vote
That is all for now so please my dear reader, by all means you must simply go on about your day.
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Meet the Antichrist
This should scare the fucking shit out of you. . .
How to steak an election by hacking the vote
That is all for now so please my dear reader, by all means you must simply go on about your day.
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and the winner is. . .
for Best Costume. . .
. . . Edward Scissorhands.
This great victory was made possible by and with the loving support of his suburban sponsors, Peg the Avon lady and her beautiful daughter, Kim.
(I've talked for years about how much I'd like to do Winona. . . this wasn't quite what I had in mind.)
Great thanks and a big shout out to all the fine people at Live Oak Brewing Company for hosting another wonderful Halloween party. I do so love your suds.
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. . . Edward Scissorhands.
This great victory was made possible by and with the loving support of his suburban sponsors, Peg the Avon lady and her beautiful daughter, Kim.
(I've talked for years about how much I'd like to do Winona. . . this wasn't quite what I had in mind.)
Great thanks and a big shout out to all the fine people at Live Oak Brewing Company for hosting another wonderful Halloween party. I do so love your suds.
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Saturday, October 28, 2006
time stand still
Yeah right, like that's gonna happen.
"To pass an evening with a drink and a friend. . ." - Neil Peart
That is what I am trying to do right now.
Monday night I awoke from a nightmare with a jolt that to this day I do not recall. I only remember The Wife telling me on Tuesday how I suddenly sat up from sound sleep gripping the sheets, frightened and tense. She told me I said that I was fine and didn't want to talk about it. Almost as suddenly I lay back down, curled up in her comforting embrace and went back to sleep.
It was most likely a visit from you. After all, it was your birthday. You should have, would have been 40, you bastard.
Every other night this week has brought a visit from you in my dreams. Some are happy, some are sad, some are memory, some are fantasy. And always, you come with him. The two of you are inevitably and eternally intertwined by the choice you made.
So yeah, to some extent, I guess I am cursed to be a victim of your bad decisions.
So on this night, as The Wife and The Boy slumber, I find myself sitting outside in the cool darkness of autumn, sipping a single malt and smoking a Camel, trying to exercise and exorcise your demons.
The changing of the season brings with it changes of memory. Memories of fun in the sun give way to memories of new school years, both high school and college. The two of you were always there. You both still are.
It's kinda funny, ya know.
It is in some way cruelly ironic that I have spent more time with you in the year and a half or so after your deaths than I did in the last couple years of your tragically short lives.
The irony lies in the guilt I feel.
I can't help but to think all those thoughts of the times I coulda, woulda, should've called or something, just to say "hello" or to catch up and fill in the blank spaces in as we grew up and inevitably moved forward with our lives in somewhat divergent directions.
Could I have made a difference? If only I took a moment from my self-absorption and picked up the gawddamned phone could I, would I, be sitting here now drinking with you instead of drinking alone with your memories?
Or am I just blowing smoke out my ass right now?
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"To pass an evening with a drink and a friend. . ." - Neil Peart
That is what I am trying to do right now.
Monday night I awoke from a nightmare with a jolt that to this day I do not recall. I only remember The Wife telling me on Tuesday how I suddenly sat up from sound sleep gripping the sheets, frightened and tense. She told me I said that I was fine and didn't want to talk about it. Almost as suddenly I lay back down, curled up in her comforting embrace and went back to sleep.
It was most likely a visit from you. After all, it was your birthday. You should have, would have been 40, you bastard.
Every other night this week has brought a visit from you in my dreams. Some are happy, some are sad, some are memory, some are fantasy. And always, you come with him. The two of you are inevitably and eternally intertwined by the choice you made.
So yeah, to some extent, I guess I am cursed to be a victim of your bad decisions.
So on this night, as The Wife and The Boy slumber, I find myself sitting outside in the cool darkness of autumn, sipping a single malt and smoking a Camel, trying to exercise and exorcise your demons.
The changing of the season brings with it changes of memory. Memories of fun in the sun give way to memories of new school years, both high school and college. The two of you were always there. You both still are.
It's kinda funny, ya know.
It is in some way cruelly ironic that I have spent more time with you in the year and a half or so after your deaths than I did in the last couple years of your tragically short lives.
The irony lies in the guilt I feel.
I can't help but to think all those thoughts of the times I coulda, woulda, should've called or something, just to say "hello" or to catch up and fill in the blank spaces in as we grew up and inevitably moved forward with our lives in somewhat divergent directions.
Could I have made a difference? If only I took a moment from my self-absorption and picked up the gawddamned phone could I, would I, be sitting here now drinking with you instead of drinking alone with your memories?
Or am I just blowing smoke out my ass right now?
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Sunday, October 22, 2006
2 + 2 = 5 ?
Bush: ‘We’ve Never Been Stay The Course’
I love Big Brother!
Or perhaps in this case, this is more appropriate:
". . . it's not a lie if you believe it."
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I love Big Brother!
Or perhaps in this case, this is more appropriate:
". . . it's not a lie if you believe it."
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Friday, October 20, 2006
curious packaging
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
'tis the season
Yes, the season!
The promise in the year of election is at hand.
Three weeks from tonight, the Midterm Elections! Oh fraptuous joy!
No really. I mean that. I uh. . . honestly do.
I love the theater and the pagentry. I love the gnashing of teeth, wailing into the wind, and barking at the moon while banging on your chest!
Primate behavior, baby! Straight-up primate behavior. Like Jane fucking Goodall in the gawdamn'd freaking jungle. . . or wherever the fuck she was.
'tis truly The Greatest Show on Earth, the circus be damned.
That being said. . .
I love this story.
[Read it. Please do. Yes, I know there is the hassle of registering or watching an ad. Everybody wants to get their bread buttered.]
Admittedly the global implications are quite frightening. But give pause and take a moment to strip the story down to its bones.
It is a touching and heartwarming story about a pampered, arrogant, foolishly-stubborn boy who still desperately seeks to find glory and define his self-worth by succeeding, against all odds, Rocky style, where his father had previously failed.
We all know just how much that'll really show the Ol' Man.
This is a noble goal, unless of course you are the son of a bad man.
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The promise in the year of election is at hand.
Three weeks from tonight, the Midterm Elections! Oh fraptuous joy!
No really. I mean that. I uh. . . honestly do.
I love the theater and the pagentry. I love the gnashing of teeth, wailing into the wind, and barking at the moon while banging on your chest!
Primate behavior, baby! Straight-up primate behavior. Like Jane fucking Goodall in the gawdamn'd freaking jungle. . . or wherever the fuck she was.
'tis truly The Greatest Show on Earth, the circus be damned.
That being said. . .
I love this story.
[Read it. Please do. Yes, I know there is the hassle of registering or watching an ad. Everybody wants to get their bread buttered.]
Admittedly the global implications are quite frightening. But give pause and take a moment to strip the story down to its bones.
It is a touching and heartwarming story about a pampered, arrogant, foolishly-stubborn boy who still desperately seeks to find glory and define his self-worth by succeeding, against all odds, Rocky style, where his father had previously failed.
We all know just how much that'll really show the Ol' Man.
This is a noble goal, unless of course you are the son of a bad man.
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Monday, October 16, 2006
good weekend?
Sunday, October 15, 2006
so suddenly and completely in love
Friday, October 13, 2006
possibly best audio recordings ever
Wow! Just plain fucking Wow!
I did not think it possible, but thanks to a tip from a friend I have discovered the best thing ever!
Well, okay, maybe it's second or third. . . after um, you know, doing it. At least it's in the top ten.
It is much by obligation as by irrational compulsion that I share it with you now, my dear reader.
I did not think it possible to top the grandeur of this or the sheer sweet saccharine splendor of this.
I was wrong.
Check out this crazy shit.
I have another media hero.
Shooby dooby do. . .
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I did not think it possible, but thanks to a tip from a friend I have discovered the best thing ever!
Well, okay, maybe it's second or third. . . after um, you know, doing it. At least it's in the top ten.
It is much by obligation as by irrational compulsion that I share it with you now, my dear reader.
I did not think it possible to top the grandeur of this or the sheer sweet saccharine splendor of this.
I was wrong.
Check out this crazy shit.
I have another media hero.
Shooby dooby do. . .
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from today's correspondence
Have you been talking with them, or just feeling a presence? 'Cause if they're talkin', there's a lot we'd all like to understand.
I've been talking, for the most part, they've just been mostly listening. Somehow, they do communicate if not quite speak. I see them in memories triggered by movie scenes and moments of song. They visit me in dreams as we relive old times and create new ones. Dreams of happier times with violently ugly ends, both in dream and in reality.|
Thursday, October 12, 2006
flannel shirt weather
Ahh. . . I must confess my dear reader, that sadly, while I do miss them terribly, part of me is reveling in the solitude of the first night of Autumn.
This morning, The Wife loaded The Boy and all of The Boy's Gear: a veritable pediatric ICU, all gently crammed into a 2006 Honda CRV. A sister-in law went along for the ride and for support with The Boy. The trio bravely journeyed out into the wilds of Texas, to their ancestral homeland.
Sometimes no news really is good news. They have travelled into a land still beyond the reach of cellphone towers. Only in case of emergency do I expect to hear the phone ring out from the old school landline call of a relative.
I have not been writing as frequently, yes, I both confess and apologize to you my dear reader.
The scene being set thusly. . .
Whil'I jus'a beggin' your forgiv'nss, guvnor. . .
Ah, so what. I am a blonde. Don't you wish you were me?
I have been simaltaneously relaxing and a rocking. Sitting outside in the cool damp of the night air. I have my guitar. I have beer. I have a fresh pack of smokes.
Admittedly, the latter two are not without memories of joyous youthful overindulgence tempered by their now recognized risks. We are all cursed by our own temptations.
But really now, my dear reader, who that walks amongst us dare claim to be a stronger man than Adam? I am still, calm, with neither expectation nor obligation; alone with my thoughts and myself for the first time in the months that I have been the joker king of this castle.
The first and therefore relatively mild "norther", as some of the locals still call them, loudly heralds the arrival of the autumn scene. It huffs if not quite puffs around me.
It is a beautiful night. . .
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This morning, The Wife loaded The Boy and all of The Boy's Gear: a veritable pediatric ICU, all gently crammed into a 2006 Honda CRV. A sister-in law went along for the ride and for support with The Boy. The trio bravely journeyed out into the wilds of Texas, to their ancestral homeland.
Sometimes no news really is good news. They have travelled into a land still beyond the reach of cellphone towers. Only in case of emergency do I expect to hear the phone ring out from the old school landline call of a relative.
I have not been writing as frequently, yes, I both confess and apologize to you my dear reader.
The scene being set thusly. . .
Whil'I jus'a beggin' your forgiv'nss, guvnor. . .
Ah, so what. I am a blonde. Don't you wish you were me?
I have been simaltaneously relaxing and a rocking. Sitting outside in the cool damp of the night air. I have my guitar. I have beer. I have a fresh pack of smokes.
Admittedly, the latter two are not without memories of joyous youthful overindulgence tempered by their now recognized risks. We are all cursed by our own temptations.
But really now, my dear reader, who that walks amongst us dare claim to be a stronger man than Adam? I am still, calm, with neither expectation nor obligation; alone with my thoughts and myself for the first time in the months that I have been the joker king of this castle.
The first and therefore relatively mild "norther", as some of the locals still call them, loudly heralds the arrival of the autumn scene. It huffs if not quite puffs around me.
It is a beautiful night. . .
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guilty as charged
Wait, what are we talking about?! We decided?! My best interest?! How can
you know, how can you say what my best interest is? What are you trying to
say? I'm crazy? When I went to your schools, I went to your churches, I
went to your institutional learning facilities. So how can you say that I'm
crazy?
They say they're gonna fix my brain
Alleviate my suffering and my pain
But by the time they fix my head
Mentally I'll be dead
I'm not crazy - institutionalized
You're the one who's crazy - institutionalized
You're driving me crazy - institutionalized
-- "Institutionalized", Suicidal Tendencies
BeliefWatch: Dead Zone
"Most interesting, people tend to view these spirits as protectors who may intervene to help in their daily lives. Forty-two percent in the Beliefnet survey said the souls protect the living by acting as guardian angels or spirit guides."
To the brothas. . .
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