Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Huh.
I saw a coworker crouching in their workstation today. Literally crouching, chair pushed aside. First was a kind of Prince Valiant pose, like a classic lunge position. The other was a crouch.
Chase Seen
Saw an odd thing the other day, while waiting curbside for my bus home: I saw a car chase! There were two vehicles: one was a convertible red BMW driven by two middle-aged men, and their pursuer was in a white Mini Cooper Turbo.
They caught my eye when I saw them sloppy-driving down 60th Street, weaving and zig-zagging. Then the BMW took a hard left (all skidding tires and what-not) and waited at the stop sign, with the Cooper hot on their tail.
The BMW guys were fairly serious in demeanor, weren't laughing it up or anything -- one of them looked like he was huffing and puffing, like he was scared. Not sure WHAT the deal was.
When the traffic let them, the BMW took off, with the Cooper right on them, honking and racing after them. I lost sight of them as they shot off toward Lake Shore Drive. No idea what it was all about.
This older woman was waiting there with me at the stop, and she said "Huh. I thought Mini Cooper drivers were supposed to be all mellow and stuff." and I said "I don't know; I think maybe they're secretly cauldrons of rage or something."
No idea what the heck was going on, but I wish I'd had a camcorder handy to record the weirdness, the stop-go car chase.
They caught my eye when I saw them sloppy-driving down 60th Street, weaving and zig-zagging. Then the BMW took a hard left (all skidding tires and what-not) and waited at the stop sign, with the Cooper hot on their tail.
The BMW guys were fairly serious in demeanor, weren't laughing it up or anything -- one of them looked like he was huffing and puffing, like he was scared. Not sure WHAT the deal was.
When the traffic let them, the BMW took off, with the Cooper right on them, honking and racing after them. I lost sight of them as they shot off toward Lake Shore Drive. No idea what it was all about.
This older woman was waiting there with me at the stop, and she said "Huh. I thought Mini Cooper drivers were supposed to be all mellow and stuff." and I said "I don't know; I think maybe they're secretly cauldrons of rage or something."
No idea what the heck was going on, but I wish I'd had a camcorder handy to record the weirdness, the stop-go car chase.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Awake. For now.
I'm wide awake right now, in the mournful moments of the night, right before bedtime. Some days, I feel like fragging Facebook (FB) and just being done with it. While I like seeing people I know doing their things, at other moments, it drives me bananas. The virtuality of it all is troubling and irritating -- people trying to outdo one another with pert status updates, or being all cryptic, that kind of thing. And people being BORING.
My God, yes. So fucking boring. I've fragged something like 17 people from my FB "friends" roster for various Crimes Against Dave. Hah! Some were never around, some were annoying, a few were hurtful, a few were irrelevant, a few made big mistakes with me. Auf. Auf. Auf. Auf. Those were the motivated Aufings. But now, I sometimes feel like just randomly Aufing people, just to mix things up a little. Not that I will, because I don't want to do that to anybody just out of caprice, don't want to be rude -- I'm far likelier to just vanish from the FB and be gone for awhile. Just because it's boring the hell out of me. I'd rather concentrate on where I'm at here and now than maintain a virtual presence. Not to be all curmudgeonly, but seriously. Yawnsville. I think I'm entertaining myself more on this blog these days, anyway.
I think a lot about "Impression Management" when I think about the FB, and how some people work very hard to portray themselves in a certain way. I just post stuff that interests me, that I think others might enjoy. Sometimes I get slagged for it, sometimes people like those things. For me, the FB is a communicative medium more than anything else -- but part of that means there needs to be a good signal-to-noise ratio, and I feel like there's precious little signal out there, just flatlines.
Like a bunch of people crammed in a room without having very much to say. Don't be boring. Please, please don't be boring. You don't want to do that, because I'll just disappear. And your world will be about 28% less fun than it was when I was in it. As I often say, I BRING the fun. I enjoy life, living, being, seeing, feeling -- all that stuff. I can find the fun almost anywhere. But if I'm the only one banging his cymbals together, well, that's less fun.
I miss my friends. Even friends of old, we maintain an ersatz association through the FB, but we're not really there. So, it's more like a bunch of ghosts crammed in a room, still without having very much to say. We hardly talk, anymore. There's just enough information trickling in that there's the feeling of being informed, without necessarily the need for active engagement.
Boring.
I want fun, fucking frolic, and fire, Friend!
My God, yes. So fucking boring. I've fragged something like 17 people from my FB "friends" roster for various Crimes Against Dave. Hah! Some were never around, some were annoying, a few were hurtful, a few were irrelevant, a few made big mistakes with me. Auf. Auf. Auf. Auf. Those were the motivated Aufings. But now, I sometimes feel like just randomly Aufing people, just to mix things up a little. Not that I will, because I don't want to do that to anybody just out of caprice, don't want to be rude -- I'm far likelier to just vanish from the FB and be gone for awhile. Just because it's boring the hell out of me. I'd rather concentrate on where I'm at here and now than maintain a virtual presence. Not to be all curmudgeonly, but seriously. Yawnsville. I think I'm entertaining myself more on this blog these days, anyway.
I think a lot about "Impression Management" when I think about the FB, and how some people work very hard to portray themselves in a certain way. I just post stuff that interests me, that I think others might enjoy. Sometimes I get slagged for it, sometimes people like those things. For me, the FB is a communicative medium more than anything else -- but part of that means there needs to be a good signal-to-noise ratio, and I feel like there's precious little signal out there, just flatlines.
*BWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*
Like a bunch of people crammed in a room without having very much to say. Don't be boring. Please, please don't be boring. You don't want to do that, because I'll just disappear. And your world will be about 28% less fun than it was when I was in it. As I often say, I BRING the fun. I enjoy life, living, being, seeing, feeling -- all that stuff. I can find the fun almost anywhere. But if I'm the only one banging his cymbals together, well, that's less fun.
I miss my friends. Even friends of old, we maintain an ersatz association through the FB, but we're not really there. So, it's more like a bunch of ghosts crammed in a room, still without having very much to say. We hardly talk, anymore. There's just enough information trickling in that there's the feeling of being informed, without necessarily the need for active engagement.
Boring.
*BWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*
I want fun, fucking frolic, and fire, Friend!
Music: Swervedriver, "Flawed"
I just stumbled on a Swervedriver song I'd never heard before. It's "Flawed" from 1991, part of an EP I never had.
It's a good tune, has all the stuff I need from Swervie -- namely, a nice, chunky wash of electric guitars. I saw them play their reunion tour in 2008 at Metro, and it was so worth it. They're not dynamic onstage, but they play fully rocking music that just envelopes you. I really hope their reunion tour brought them enough $ucce$$ that they can sling out a new album. Since they never got their due in the 90s, my hope is that they can perhaps bring their own brand of rock to the 21st century, where they properly belong.
Also, as a bonus, here's a studio recording of "She's Beside Herself." Just glow and flow! Awoooooooo!
And one more, a trippy one for my favorite planet, "Mars."
It's a good tune, has all the stuff I need from Swervie -- namely, a nice, chunky wash of electric guitars. I saw them play their reunion tour in 2008 at Metro, and it was so worth it. They're not dynamic onstage, but they play fully rocking music that just envelopes you. I really hope their reunion tour brought them enough $ucce$$ that they can sling out a new album. Since they never got their due in the 90s, my hope is that they can perhaps bring their own brand of rock to the 21st century, where they properly belong.
Also, as a bonus, here's a studio recording of "She's Beside Herself." Just glow and flow! Awoooooooo!
And one more, a trippy one for my favorite planet, "Mars."
Drink: Thank You Kindly
Another one from the back of my brain. I can't vouch for it fully, as it's been years. I may need to conduct retesting of these, for mixological rigor...
Thank You Kindly
1 shot Cointreau
1 shot Campari
1 shot Amaretto
2 dashes of Bitters
1 slice of lemon
Pour into a Collins glass and serve over ice and stir a bit and garnish with a slice of lemon.
Thank You Kindly
1 shot Cointreau
1 shot Campari
1 shot Amaretto
2 dashes of Bitters
1 slice of lemon
Pour into a Collins glass and serve over ice and stir a bit and garnish with a slice of lemon.
Drink: Stinking Vicar
The Stinking Vicar was a drink recipe I made from around 2005, maybe 2006, in my first bloggy-blog, one of a half-dozen or more recipes I had there. Sadly, the original formulas are lost to time and space, since I immolated that blog in '06, but here is my rough memory of this one -- keep in mind that I'm drawing from memory, here...
Stinking Vicar
1 shot Cointreau
1 shot Triple Sec
1 bottle Chinotto
3 dashes Bitters
1 maraschino cherry
Pour Cointreau and Triple Sec in a Collins glass over ice. Then pour a bottle of Chinotto over it, and add Bitters. Gently stir. Garnish with a red maraschino cherry.
Stinking Vicar
1 shot Cointreau
1 shot Triple Sec
1 bottle Chinotto
3 dashes Bitters
1 maraschino cherry
Pour Cointreau and Triple Sec in a Collins glass over ice. Then pour a bottle of Chinotto over it, and add Bitters. Gently stir. Garnish with a red maraschino cherry.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Feet Under Me
I got my feet under me again, after the blues this afternoon. I sorted out a writing problem that I'd been wrestling with (that always leaves me feeling frustrated and talentless), so that improved my mood immeasurably.
Kick-splash, kick-splash.
Kick-splash, kick-splash.
Suckage
I'm really bummed out right now. Sigh. Just a lot on my plate (and I'm juggling the plate upon which it's all on, to boot). It's weird, because I'm less stressed day-to-day than I was even a couple of years ago, but I've got far more to wrestle with now than I did, too. I think it's because I know where I want to be, and what I want to do, but it's just incredibly difficult to get there, and so I get daunted and broody sometimes. It's like walking up to the ocean and looking at that matchless mass of wavy blue and thinking "No problem; I'm gonna swim right across it." And I've swum out far enough that there's no shore in sight, and I can feel a charlie horse in my calves and I'm thinking "Oh, shit. Now what am I gonna do?" The ocean doesn't care if you drown in it or not.
Against the depth and breadth of that incredible apathy, it's hard to reckon with the smallness of your will, the paucity of your dreams. And then I think of my little boys in that stormy water, looking at me from their little raft that is our shared world, thinking that I'm Superman, knowing that there's nothing their Daddy can't do, and I don't want to let them down. My little guys. I want to make the best world I possibly can for them. I won't fail them. I may fail myself, but I won't fail them. My little guys. They're my whole life; they're my everything.
I'm tearing up as I type this, just thinking of them. I told B1 and B2 this morning that I was going to make it all right -- that I needed time to sort it all out, but that I would make it better.
Sigh. Deep breath, kick-splash, kick-splash, kick-splash.
Against the depth and breadth of that incredible apathy, it's hard to reckon with the smallness of your will, the paucity of your dreams. And then I think of my little boys in that stormy water, looking at me from their little raft that is our shared world, thinking that I'm Superman, knowing that there's nothing their Daddy can't do, and I don't want to let them down. My little guys. I want to make the best world I possibly can for them. I won't fail them. I may fail myself, but I won't fail them. My little guys. They're my whole life; they're my everything.
I'm tearing up as I type this, just thinking of them. I told B1 and B2 this morning that I was going to make it all right -- that I needed time to sort it all out, but that I would make it better.
Sigh. Deep breath, kick-splash, kick-splash, kick-splash.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Updates
B1 is 4'6", weighs 70 lbs. B2 weighs 38 lbs. and is 3'6.5." I can (barely) hold aloft both of the boys at the same time!
I managed a bravura toe-stubbing performance this morning, nailing four of my left toes at one magical punting of a piece of furniture (not deliberately, naturally).
My boys still love Seamus and Shamrock, the twin shamrock sock puppets. I did those this morning and both of them just loved'em, were talking to them and playing with them, showing them things, feeding'em Legos and what-not. It's so cute how much they love those. The power of puppets cannot be denied!
I'm still working on the screenplay, driving myself crazy with that, trying to plot it out to perfection, getting it to fire off like a string of firecrackers. I had dreams about it last night, a good sign, like my subconscious working on it and all.
I managed a bravura toe-stubbing performance this morning, nailing four of my left toes at one magical punting of a piece of furniture (not deliberately, naturally).
My boys still love Seamus and Shamrock, the twin shamrock sock puppets. I did those this morning and both of them just loved'em, were talking to them and playing with them, showing them things, feeding'em Legos and what-not. It's so cute how much they love those. The power of puppets cannot be denied!
I'm still working on the screenplay, driving myself crazy with that, trying to plot it out to perfection, getting it to fire off like a string of firecrackers. I had dreams about it last night, a good sign, like my subconscious working on it and all.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Mayday
Happy May Day! First day of May, what can you say?
Big storms flew through here last night, but didn't linger -- Chicago-style, they just blasted through here and were gone in a jiffy.
Big storms flew through here last night, but didn't linger -- Chicago-style, they just blasted through here and were gone in a jiffy.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Unfocused
I'm fidgety and unfocused today. I don't know what it is. I'm just squirmy and scruffy and unsettled. I didn't shave most of this week, so it looks like I'm trying to grow a beard. That might be a funny thing to surprise my family with in July, when I take the boys to North Carolina.
This weekend has another soccer game for B1, and likely registering B2 for soccer in the fall. I persuaded Exene to let B1 not take a fourth season of soccer, as he could give a rat's ass about it, but B2 will be a natural for it, for sure. Exene has that Teutonic fitness mentality that makes me tired just to think of it. I imagine Hitlerian newsreels like this playing in her head when she contemplates athletics, and I try to insulate the boys from the worst of that impulse, telling B1 "It's okay if you don't want to do an activity. Don't just do it because you think you're supposed to; do it because you want to." Which, I'm sure Exene sees as me subverting her Master Plan for Die Kindern, but I'm really just wanting them to enjoy their childhoods -- I value unstructured time highly, think it's a vital component for kids. Lord knows when adulthood comes around, one finds the fuck structured out of one's life!
Anyway, I'm going to sew up the plot for the screenplay upon revision, make sure everything hits when it's supposed to, that it flows well, all that good stuff.
Beyond that, nothing planned. Weather permitting, I may take the boys biking. We'll see.
This weekend has another soccer game for B1, and likely registering B2 for soccer in the fall. I persuaded Exene to let B1 not take a fourth season of soccer, as he could give a rat's ass about it, but B2 will be a natural for it, for sure. Exene has that Teutonic fitness mentality that makes me tired just to think of it. I imagine Hitlerian newsreels like this playing in her head when she contemplates athletics, and I try to insulate the boys from the worst of that impulse, telling B1 "It's okay if you don't want to do an activity. Don't just do it because you think you're supposed to; do it because you want to." Which, I'm sure Exene sees as me subverting her Master Plan for Die Kindern, but I'm really just wanting them to enjoy their childhoods -- I value unstructured time highly, think it's a vital component for kids. Lord knows when adulthood comes around, one finds the fuck structured out of one's life!
Anyway, I'm going to sew up the plot for the screenplay upon revision, make sure everything hits when it's supposed to, that it flows well, all that good stuff.
Beyond that, nothing planned. Weather permitting, I may take the boys biking. We'll see.
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