Good Morning, Friends,
I see a red door and I want to paint it black, because it’s reasonable to do so. You can’t go off having a second empire-type house black as burned ravens with a red door. It looks at the very least like a gate to Hell, or a very angry monster. Scares off the neighbors, you know. Not that they were all that brave to begin with. It was foolishness, they thought to eachselves, why would anybody want to buy a house strait from the Addams Family? Well, I’m here to tell you that aside from a thing or two festering in the attic – this house has it all, including a whirlpool acid bath! What more can a guy ask for? Another bucket of black paint, I suppose.
And a chili dog. Can’t ever have enough chili dogs.
Woofles!
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Ramblin's
Good morning friends,
If nature were Narnia, Aslan would be having a lobster dinner tonight! However, I no longer resemble the big cat; my whiskers have whisked themselves away – frightened by me gesturing at them with a razor with spoon-like dullness. It was the personal hygiene version of the mob scene from Frankenstein – without the torches.
If ever he had to witness such a face-mangling debacle I bet ol’ Sweeny Todd would be turning in his pie.
In other news, I’m gonna call my absence “Summer Break”. Me Ma came out to visit, a great time as always. Got to cross Boston with a top hat full of books! How cool is that? The secret of me Ma is that she sees everything. The trick is trying to get her to tell me what she has seen. Usually asking “What do you see?” works pretty well, but I suspect she’ll soon notice that I’m always asking her that, especially in social settings and grocery stores. If I ever become a crazy old sage, or a mother (?) I hope my children will ask me my view of things while I’m feeling up avocados and checking the dates on the milk. Reason 231 why I don’t want kids…
If you’re in Boston, go see the Free Shakespeare in the park! If you’re not in Boston, come to Boston and see the Free Shakespeare in the park!
Tootles!
If nature were Narnia, Aslan would be having a lobster dinner tonight! However, I no longer resemble the big cat; my whiskers have whisked themselves away – frightened by me gesturing at them with a razor with spoon-like dullness. It was the personal hygiene version of the mob scene from Frankenstein – without the torches.
If ever he had to witness such a face-mangling debacle I bet ol’ Sweeny Todd would be turning in his pie.
In other news, I’m gonna call my absence “Summer Break”. Me Ma came out to visit, a great time as always. Got to cross Boston with a top hat full of books! How cool is that? The secret of me Ma is that she sees everything. The trick is trying to get her to tell me what she has seen. Usually asking “What do you see?” works pretty well, but I suspect she’ll soon notice that I’m always asking her that, especially in social settings and grocery stores. If I ever become a crazy old sage, or a mother (?) I hope my children will ask me my view of things while I’m feeling up avocados and checking the dates on the milk. Reason 231 why I don’t want kids…
If you’re in Boston, go see the Free Shakespeare in the park! If you’re not in Boston, come to Boston and see the Free Shakespeare in the park!
Tootles!
Monday, July 14, 2008
A Truthfull Account of a Fictional Encounter
A fellow in a jaunty, silver cap walked down the street in my neighborhood yesterday. He had a silk bag slung over his shoulder and played a harmonica as he walked. I could see the holes in the soles of his shoes.
As he passed, I noticed that he cast no shadow.
Sitting on the subway, the same man entered the car I was in and sat right across from me. He had put the harmonica away, but was still humming a happy little tune.
I looked him in the eyes, and his humming stopped as he broke out into a great smile.
“I know you,” he said, his voice like ripping paper.
“Well,” I replied. “You passed me on the street.”
“That’s right, that’s right!” He shouted, startling an old woman two seats away. “You’re the guy with the funny brown cap!”
Indeed I was. As a matter of fact, I was wearing it right then.
“The Street’s been buzzin’ about you,” he continued, “I had to take a little look for myself. Seems alright, white socks, black shoes ok. Do you have a harmonica?”
“With me?” This conversation was making me nervous.
“Yeah.”
“Two, actually”
“Good Man,” he exclaimed, standing. “Keep it up. Before I go, you got any questions for me?”
“Where’s your shadow?” I winced as it tumbled from my mouth, too personal. Too personal by far. He gave me a wicked grin.
“Lost it in a poker game, Son. Take care.”
He stepped out of the car, the doors closing at his heels. The old woman he startled earlier glared out the window at him until we pulled from the station. I sat with my hat in my hands until my stop, and then I went to work.
As he passed, I noticed that he cast no shadow.
Sitting on the subway, the same man entered the car I was in and sat right across from me. He had put the harmonica away, but was still humming a happy little tune.
I looked him in the eyes, and his humming stopped as he broke out into a great smile.
“I know you,” he said, his voice like ripping paper.
“Well,” I replied. “You passed me on the street.”
“That’s right, that’s right!” He shouted, startling an old woman two seats away. “You’re the guy with the funny brown cap!”
Indeed I was. As a matter of fact, I was wearing it right then.
“The Street’s been buzzin’ about you,” he continued, “I had to take a little look for myself. Seems alright, white socks, black shoes ok. Do you have a harmonica?”
“With me?” This conversation was making me nervous.
“Yeah.”
“Two, actually”
“Good Man,” he exclaimed, standing. “Keep it up. Before I go, you got any questions for me?”
“Where’s your shadow?” I winced as it tumbled from my mouth, too personal. Too personal by far. He gave me a wicked grin.
“Lost it in a poker game, Son. Take care.”
He stepped out of the car, the doors closing at his heels. The old woman he startled earlier glared out the window at him until we pulled from the station. I sat with my hat in my hands until my stop, and then I went to work.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
LAh-May, not Lame
Gold Lame, Gold Lame…
Every time my alarm clock went off this was the first thought that went through my head. I'm not sure why, I think my dreams involved lettuce.
Last night, I realized that my evening had turned into a real-life version of the previous postings.
While there were no giant caterpillars or secret milk police, people and opportunities randomly came out, and soon I'd be deep in a conversation with a friend who I hadn't seen in months, all because I was trying to find a BoA in Central Square.
At lunch, the 23 enigma came up, and I tried to explain it to some coworkers. During the middle of it, I realized that it's a parable in wooga-wooga. Much like Jesus' Golden Rule and Wicca's Rule of three, the 23 enigma is a lesson in resonance, i.e. if I focus on something; it comes back to me magnified.
Why do unto others as you would do unto you? Taken as a simple way to behave in society. It's not such a firm idea. People might not wish to be treated the same way you do. What would happen if a masochist slapped you every time you saw him/her? How long would a Nymphomaniac be allowed in society if he/she tried to have sex with everything that lived?
These are crude and extreme examples, but illustrate the problem. However, by focusing on the way I wish to be treated, I can notice more clearly when that happens. Some might even argue (I'm looking at you, Wiccans) that what I do is given back to me in a greater amount than I give it. The 23 Enigma creates a bridge between these two trains of thought.
The 23E approaches this phenomenon as more of a psychiatry issue. If one focuses on anything, the number 23 or simply red cars, one will naturally notice when they appear, which will lead to more focus, which will make more appearances – not that there will actually be more 23s or red cars around, it will simply seem like it. However, this is where the existentialists (or anybody who loves the matrix) would jump in and state that since reality is simply one's personal experiences and truths, then actually there ARE more 23s and Red cars there.
So, are people actually treating me more in the way that I wish to be treated, or am I simply ignoring when it's not happening and focusing in on when it is? For me, the answer is "Yes."
Waffles!
Every time my alarm clock went off this was the first thought that went through my head. I'm not sure why, I think my dreams involved lettuce.
Last night, I realized that my evening had turned into a real-life version of the previous postings.
While there were no giant caterpillars or secret milk police, people and opportunities randomly came out, and soon I'd be deep in a conversation with a friend who I hadn't seen in months, all because I was trying to find a BoA in Central Square.
At lunch, the 23 enigma came up, and I tried to explain it to some coworkers. During the middle of it, I realized that it's a parable in wooga-wooga. Much like Jesus' Golden Rule and Wicca's Rule of three, the 23 enigma is a lesson in resonance, i.e. if I focus on something; it comes back to me magnified.
Why do unto others as you would do unto you? Taken as a simple way to behave in society. It's not such a firm idea. People might not wish to be treated the same way you do. What would happen if a masochist slapped you every time you saw him/her? How long would a Nymphomaniac be allowed in society if he/she tried to have sex with everything that lived?
These are crude and extreme examples, but illustrate the problem. However, by focusing on the way I wish to be treated, I can notice more clearly when that happens. Some might even argue (I'm looking at you, Wiccans) that what I do is given back to me in a greater amount than I give it. The 23 Enigma creates a bridge between these two trains of thought.
The 23E approaches this phenomenon as more of a psychiatry issue. If one focuses on anything, the number 23 or simply red cars, one will naturally notice when they appear, which will lead to more focus, which will make more appearances – not that there will actually be more 23s or red cars around, it will simply seem like it. However, this is where the existentialists (or anybody who loves the matrix) would jump in and state that since reality is simply one's personal experiences and truths, then actually there ARE more 23s and Red cars there.
So, are people actually treating me more in the way that I wish to be treated, or am I simply ignoring when it's not happening and focusing in on when it is? For me, the answer is "Yes."
Waffles!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Three Days of Whiskey and Wine - 3: Ending
Alarm and cacophony awoke the couple on that Sunday. The Sun, nightcap still on its head, barely saw them leave their hovel and return to the woods where the great worm left them. Singing platitudes and making offerings, the couple re-entered the worm’s hole, and soon again knew no more.
The man was the first to awaken, alone and across the river. He wandered into a house of wise men, and listened to them speak about one another, laughing to himself when the wisest lost his temper.
The woman found herself near the home of the tall, quiet one. Hefting the umbrella she bought with his belongings, she went off to pay him a visit. He was drinking wine, in a great house, by himself. She joined him and laughter, loss of self and allergic reactions became reality for a little while. The quiet one quite liked the umbrella, and put it in the refrigerator for safe keeping. She put on some music and began to dance with a chair. Silliness overcame the both of them and they knew no more.
The man met a former fellow philosopher, and they spoke of the absence of time over coffee and strawberries. The combination left them giddy, and as they got up to leave, the friend stole the keys to a ride, and promptly left black marks behind as they sped through town. The trip was exhilarating; dodging Caterpillars and people, reaching speeds not reached since their younger days out west, they found themselves safe and in the woods in no time.
Inside the trunk of the car, the two discovered a package of corn nuts, a package of pistachios, a flask of whiskey and two types of juice. Leaving the ride behind (but taking the keys with them) they wandered further into the woods and had a picnic with their ill gotten gains.
The day passed.
The sky was reddening when the philosopher decided to leave the shaded woods. The ride came to life, and the philosopher was soon gone. The man wandered back to his hovel gently nipping at the flask of whiskey. He wondered where the woman was, there were great stories to tell. He nipped at the flask, nip… nip… nip. The whiskey was gone and the man knew no more.
And that’s the three days of whiskey and wine. I’ve got more if you want them, tell your friends to bring the Templeton.
The man was the first to awaken, alone and across the river. He wandered into a house of wise men, and listened to them speak about one another, laughing to himself when the wisest lost his temper.
The woman found herself near the home of the tall, quiet one. Hefting the umbrella she bought with his belongings, she went off to pay him a visit. He was drinking wine, in a great house, by himself. She joined him and laughter, loss of self and allergic reactions became reality for a little while. The quiet one quite liked the umbrella, and put it in the refrigerator for safe keeping. She put on some music and began to dance with a chair. Silliness overcame the both of them and they knew no more.
The man met a former fellow philosopher, and they spoke of the absence of time over coffee and strawberries. The combination left them giddy, and as they got up to leave, the friend stole the keys to a ride, and promptly left black marks behind as they sped through town. The trip was exhilarating; dodging Caterpillars and people, reaching speeds not reached since their younger days out west, they found themselves safe and in the woods in no time.
Inside the trunk of the car, the two discovered a package of corn nuts, a package of pistachios, a flask of whiskey and two types of juice. Leaving the ride behind (but taking the keys with them) they wandered further into the woods and had a picnic with their ill gotten gains.
The day passed.
The sky was reddening when the philosopher decided to leave the shaded woods. The ride came to life, and the philosopher was soon gone. The man wandered back to his hovel gently nipping at the flask of whiskey. He wondered where the woman was, there were great stories to tell. He nipped at the flask, nip… nip… nip. The whiskey was gone and the man knew no more.
And that’s the three days of whiskey and wine. I’ve got more if you want them, tell your friends to bring the Templeton.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Three Days of Whiskey and Wine - 2: Lies
Half the day ceased to be before the three awoke. With a minimum amount of searching, the couple found food that the quiet one could eat. He could only eat non-living things, while in the couple the man preferred food that was alive, and the woman couldn't stand anything with legs.
Under the hot, hot, heat of the post-noonpoctalyptic sun, the tall quiet one became a mirage, promising his return as he melted into the sewers. The couple gathered the belongings he left behind; a corn cob pipe, an old silk hat, to lumps of coal and a button, and used them to barter for an umbrella. They then climbed atop a slow moving caterpillar as it ambled its way into town, and kissed chastely under the bumbershoot's shade.
The caterpillar decided to quit moving in front of a poster showing a lobster composing on a typewriter, a glass of whiskey in its claw. The couple went their separate ways at this point, she to find bleach sold by munchkins, he to escape the heat within a giant cow. Above them, the sky buzzed with the wings of giant mechanical insects. The hooded milk police were out, enforcing the practice of calcium absorption. This left the woman feeling distinctly ill at ease.
The couple found each other by the bronze artist – who, horrified at what his art had become, used himself as his greatest casting. When discovered, the city put him on display in a public park, near the library. The couple embraced, then noticed that they had drawn the attention of a man in a hood. Terrified, they raced for safety, dodging giant beetles and caterpillars, as the great mechanical moth (glowing red in the setting sun's light) cast its blazing glare about the city for the lovers.
The couple stopped before a massive anthill built up behind the glass tower where they had watched the sky explode the night before. The hooded police were frightened of the insects that stood as big as people, and would not come near – but the ants would capture and devour the couple too, if they discovered. They slowly dug into the dirt, covering each other to escape notice, and waited until the hooded ones became bored. Unfortunately for the couple, a giant worm appeared and swallowed them whole before the hunt was over. The world went dark, and the couple knew no more.
Miraculously, they lived. The worm left them soiled but unhurt, above ground in a wood not far from the couple's hovel. They washed, and ate, then passed wine between them as they laughed themselves to sleep with stories of their day.
Time passes, the stars encircle the sky. Day 2 weakens and slips away.
Under the hot, hot, heat of the post-noonpoctalyptic sun, the tall quiet one became a mirage, promising his return as he melted into the sewers. The couple gathered the belongings he left behind; a corn cob pipe, an old silk hat, to lumps of coal and a button, and used them to barter for an umbrella. They then climbed atop a slow moving caterpillar as it ambled its way into town, and kissed chastely under the bumbershoot's shade.
The caterpillar decided to quit moving in front of a poster showing a lobster composing on a typewriter, a glass of whiskey in its claw. The couple went their separate ways at this point, she to find bleach sold by munchkins, he to escape the heat within a giant cow. Above them, the sky buzzed with the wings of giant mechanical insects. The hooded milk police were out, enforcing the practice of calcium absorption. This left the woman feeling distinctly ill at ease.
The couple found each other by the bronze artist – who, horrified at what his art had become, used himself as his greatest casting. When discovered, the city put him on display in a public park, near the library. The couple embraced, then noticed that they had drawn the attention of a man in a hood. Terrified, they raced for safety, dodging giant beetles and caterpillars, as the great mechanical moth (glowing red in the setting sun's light) cast its blazing glare about the city for the lovers.
The couple stopped before a massive anthill built up behind the glass tower where they had watched the sky explode the night before. The hooded police were frightened of the insects that stood as big as people, and would not come near – but the ants would capture and devour the couple too, if they discovered. They slowly dug into the dirt, covering each other to escape notice, and waited until the hooded ones became bored. Unfortunately for the couple, a giant worm appeared and swallowed them whole before the hunt was over. The world went dark, and the couple knew no more.
Miraculously, they lived. The worm left them soiled but unhurt, above ground in a wood not far from the couple's hovel. They washed, and ate, then passed wine between them as they laughed themselves to sleep with stories of their day.
Time passes, the stars encircle the sky. Day 2 weakens and slips away.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Three Days of Whiskey and Wine - 1: The Truth
Pull up a chair kids, and pass that Templeton. I got a story to tell you.
You see the sky Friday night? This is what life was like, 3 days of laughter and sneezes, all weekend long in this ancient city.
The tall, quiet fellow rode into town against the sun as the happy couple scavenged for food along the dumpsters. They could have done better, but the man was antsy, agitated. He kept muttering “Outta time, outta time.” They’ve been out of time for a long time now, but the man hadn’t seemed to figure it out yet.
The quiet one found them as they gathered his scraps and together they climbed the glass tower to watch the sky as it darkened and exploded with color. The three were suitably impressed and passed between them fermented liquids of questionable origin. The tall and quiet one declined his companions’ offer of nourishment.
Once the sky quieted down, the three scampered to the couple’s hovel. Standing on the roof, they howled and danced under the moonless night to the cracking and popping of their bones and distant explosions. Rum flowed like urine. Eventually, they tired of such ecstasy and spoke to one another about the nature of heroes and kings until sleep nibbled them to a deeper sort of unknowing.
Time continued to slip by as the first day came to an end.
You see the sky Friday night? This is what life was like, 3 days of laughter and sneezes, all weekend long in this ancient city.
The tall, quiet fellow rode into town against the sun as the happy couple scavenged for food along the dumpsters. They could have done better, but the man was antsy, agitated. He kept muttering “Outta time, outta time.” They’ve been out of time for a long time now, but the man hadn’t seemed to figure it out yet.
The quiet one found them as they gathered his scraps and together they climbed the glass tower to watch the sky as it darkened and exploded with color. The three were suitably impressed and passed between them fermented liquids of questionable origin. The tall and quiet one declined his companions’ offer of nourishment.
Once the sky quieted down, the three scampered to the couple’s hovel. Standing on the roof, they howled and danced under the moonless night to the cracking and popping of their bones and distant explosions. Rum flowed like urine. Eventually, they tired of such ecstasy and spoke to one another about the nature of heroes and kings until sleep nibbled them to a deeper sort of unknowing.
Time continued to slip by as the first day came to an end.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Where's the Myqueie?
Hello friends,
I'm sorry for my quiet.
This week Time and I have been at each other's throats. Probably has something to do with deadlines, but if so, I missed the memo.
Dream and I, however, have become the best of drinking buddies. Don't know what's up with that, but as long as I don't end up hung in a closet, I'm enjoying the ride.
Waffles!
I'm sorry for my quiet.
This week Time and I have been at each other's throats. Probably has something to do with deadlines, but if so, I missed the memo.
Dream and I, however, have become the best of drinking buddies. Don't know what's up with that, but as long as I don't end up hung in a closet, I'm enjoying the ride.
Waffles!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Choir Tripping
10 years ago today, I found myself in England. Soon I was eating black pudding and fish and chips! Soon, I was spitting on the pastor who ended up marrying me. Soon, I saw my first July 4th parade that had nothing to do with America’s liberation from England.
This was the largest city I had ever been to. This is where I realized how hard living as an actor would be, but also how glorious it would be to live like one. This is one of the many places in my life where I can say “it all started here.”
Waffles!
This was the largest city I had ever been to. This is where I realized how hard living as an actor would be, but also how glorious it would be to live like one. This is one of the many places in my life where I can say “it all started here.”
Waffles!
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