My trivia team won Bucky's Trivia hoolie this spring and now there are pictures of them on the web. (I was unable to participate.)
31 December, 2004
Zupans on the Go!
My trivia team won Bucky's Trivia hoolie this spring and now there are pictures of them on the web. (I was unable to participate.)
My trivia team won Bucky's Trivia hoolie this spring and now there are pictures of them on the web. (I was unable to participate.)
Sexy New Year's Resolutions
Courtesy of Anne Seamans. hehe I wrote "Seamans".
* Masturbate more - this one should be pretty easy
* Write an erotic letter or email (even if to yourself) - to myself? No problema!
* Compliment your lover on some element of his/her sexual technique - "Oh right hand, you sure can stroke like nobody's bidness!"
* Discover a new erogenous zone - now this one will take some looking into...
* Experiment with different condoms and pick a new favorite - Bummer. You don't need condoms when you make love with yourself.
* Try a different kind of vibrator (or at least a different speed!) - OK, I don't use vibrators. BUT(T), I can get an EverReady.
* Write down your erotic dreams - this I can handle.
* Look in the mirror and compliment your favorite physical traits - "My what a big tongue you have!"
* Pay attention to your sexual health - Good idea. Must get checked for STDs.
* Seek out more music and art, watch TV less - This is no problem as I don't watch TV much anyway.
* Masturbate in a different way (change positions, use fantasy material, etc) - Although I've been masturbating for over 20 years, it shouldn't be (gasp!) hard to find something new.
* Have sex somewhere new - Does masturbating somewhere new count?
* Share a favorite fantasy with your partner - I can only talk to my hands so much.
* Rent an erotic movie - Roger dat!
* Leave naughty voice mail for your partner - My hands don't have voice mail.
* Look for sex in nature (or architecture!) - National Geographic Channel, here I, um, come!
* Answer your kids' sex questions; buy them a book - No kids.
* Discover one new sex-related web site - You mean they have sex on the Internet?!
* Try a chat room, a dating service or a personal ad - Chat room? w/m/32 Um, I'll pass on the chat room thing but perhaps I'll put up a personal ad again.
* Wear something sexy to the office - I'm thinking that me in chaps would not go over well at work.
* Be naked - I hope Stevie and Becca won't mind if I resolve this one.
Courtesy of Anne Seamans. hehe I wrote "Seamans".
* Masturbate more - this one should be pretty easy
* Write an erotic letter or email (even if to yourself) - to myself? No problema!
* Compliment your lover on some element of his/her sexual technique - "Oh right hand, you sure can stroke like nobody's bidness!"
* Discover a new erogenous zone - now this one will take some looking into...
* Experiment with different condoms and pick a new favorite - Bummer. You don't need condoms when you make love with yourself.
* Try a different kind of vibrator (or at least a different speed!) - OK, I don't use vibrators. BUT(T), I can get an EverReady.
* Write down your erotic dreams - this I can handle.
* Look in the mirror and compliment your favorite physical traits - "My what a big tongue you have!"
* Pay attention to your sexual health - Good idea. Must get checked for STDs.
* Seek out more music and art, watch TV less - This is no problem as I don't watch TV much anyway.
* Masturbate in a different way (change positions, use fantasy material, etc) - Although I've been masturbating for over 20 years, it shouldn't be (gasp!) hard to find something new.
* Have sex somewhere new - Does masturbating somewhere new count?
* Share a favorite fantasy with your partner - I can only talk to my hands so much.
* Rent an erotic movie - Roger dat!
* Leave naughty voice mail for your partner - My hands don't have voice mail.
* Look for sex in nature (or architecture!) - National Geographic Channel, here I, um, come!
* Answer your kids' sex questions; buy them a book - No kids.
* Discover one new sex-related web site - You mean they have sex on the Internet?!
* Try a chat room, a dating service or a personal ad - Chat room? w/m/32 Um, I'll pass on the chat room thing but perhaps I'll put up a personal ad again.
* Wear something sexy to the office - I'm thinking that me in chaps would not go over well at work.
* Be naked - I hope Stevie and Becca won't mind if I resolve this one.
30 December, 2004
I Know
I was given some information this morning which made me really sad. It was told to me in confidence so I cannot share it here. Hopefully the information will be eventuated soon because I’d like to write about some of the implications. A lot of things in the air but they’ll land soon enough, I suppose.
I met up with The Dulcinea at lunchtime. I left work a little bit earlier than I had intended owing to the fact that it’s incredibly slow today and I just wanted to get out of there and speak my piece. So I got to J.T. Whitney’s a bit early. Looking around I didn’t see her so I took a seat at the bar and ordered some coffee. I was reading the new Isthmus when The Dulcinea came up from behind. I think I said “Hi. Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” I paid for my coffee and we moved to a deserted table by the pool table. (Table…table…table…) At the moment, I prefer to keep the details of the conversation in my head alone. But I will say a few things. Firstly, she was incredibly nice - much moreso than I deserved. Secondly, it was good to tell her face-to-face "I'm sorry". Not only did was I able to assuage my guilt but I was also able to do the right thing for the first time in a long time. We ended up talking for over an hour. It felt so good to (finally!) tell her things that I should have told her months ago. Questions asked and answered. I think it was good for both of us. We each walked out with a copy of the latest Onion in hand and laughing as we went. Looking up ready to part, I see that she extended her arms and so we hugged. It was the best hug I've had in ages. Maybe I'm not forgiven and may never will be but the hug gave me hope. Hope that perhaps she will be able to forgive me someday. Hope that I can be a better person. I think we both wanted to cry as we said our final parting words - I know I did. (Later...later...) I've never been any good at saying goodbye. I wasn't able to tell my dad goodbye so it felt comforting to be able to say it to someone whom I care about.
I got in my car, started it, and turned on the tapedeck. "Up Over Yonder" came on. I turned it up nice and loud. A little air drumming and I was off.
Heading out walking
Nobody by my side
If you see me
allow me to pass on by
I was given some information this morning which made me really sad. It was told to me in confidence so I cannot share it here. Hopefully the information will be eventuated soon because I’d like to write about some of the implications. A lot of things in the air but they’ll land soon enough, I suppose.
I met up with The Dulcinea at lunchtime. I left work a little bit earlier than I had intended owing to the fact that it’s incredibly slow today and I just wanted to get out of there and speak my piece. So I got to J.T. Whitney’s a bit early. Looking around I didn’t see her so I took a seat at the bar and ordered some coffee. I was reading the new Isthmus when The Dulcinea came up from behind. I think I said “Hi. Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” I paid for my coffee and we moved to a deserted table by the pool table. (Table…table…table…) At the moment, I prefer to keep the details of the conversation in my head alone. But I will say a few things. Firstly, she was incredibly nice - much moreso than I deserved. Secondly, it was good to tell her face-to-face "I'm sorry". Not only did was I able to assuage my guilt but I was also able to do the right thing for the first time in a long time. We ended up talking for over an hour. It felt so good to (finally!) tell her things that I should have told her months ago. Questions asked and answered. I think it was good for both of us. We each walked out with a copy of the latest Onion in hand and laughing as we went. Looking up ready to part, I see that she extended her arms and so we hugged. It was the best hug I've had in ages. Maybe I'm not forgiven and may never will be but the hug gave me hope. Hope that perhaps she will be able to forgive me someday. Hope that I can be a better person. I think we both wanted to cry as we said our final parting words - I know I did. (Later...later...) I've never been any good at saying goodbye. I wasn't able to tell my dad goodbye so it felt comforting to be able to say it to someone whom I care about.
I got in my car, started it, and turned on the tapedeck. "Up Over Yonder" came on. I turned it up nice and loud. A little air drumming and I was off.
Nobody by my side
If you see me
allow me to pass on by
”That’s Cool”
This morning it was “Single Girl” by 16 Horsepower. Granted, I have a Yankee accent but that just made the moments when I tried to sound Southern all the more humorous.
I read a piece saying that the death toll from the tsunami has reached 114,000. So I’m sitting here reading and thinking how dreadful the loss of life and destruction is when there a quote from Dubya: “"We will prevail over this destruction”. It just seems so…so…warlike. Yeah, there ‘s a bias on my part but I wondered why it didn’t read something like, “We will send food, aid, and medicine” blah blah blah. Where are words like “help” and “rebuild”? We Americans are not prevailing over any destruction because no tsunamis hit our coast. The object here is to help people who have had tragedy befall them, not fight a war. The only thing we Americans have to prevail over is our niggardliness. Do I buy the TiVo or give that money to Oxfam? Not a very tough decision for most of us, I’m afraid.
I’ve noticed something about myself recently. I think that it’s always been the case but I’m not always conscious of it. I’m referring to how I pick up other people’s phrases and ideas and use them. We all do it to an extent, I think. For instance, take the phrase “that’s cool”. It’s rather innocuous, isn’t it? Becca uses it all the time and now I’ve begun to use it. And so has Stevie. It is this generic phrase of approval.
Becca: “How was work today, Tim?”
Tim: “Well, I managed to get this stupid fucking NetMeeting to finally work after 2 days.”
Becca: “That’s cool.”
A variation including emphasis:
Becca: “How was your day, Tim?”
Tim: “Well, I helped a little old lady across the street and fed everyone in Sumatra.”
Becca: “That’s so cool!”
From The Dulcinea I got “not so much”. As in:
Becca: “Did you have a good day at work?”
Tim: “Mmm…not so much.”
The most recent addition to my vocabulary is “exsmurfly”, which I got from Marv and means “exactly”. This word (and its variations) has the added bonus of really annoying Pete. Exempli gratia:
Tim: “Since the orc is moving through my square, I get an attack of opportunity, right?”
Marv: “Exsmurfly!”
The only variation that I can recall at the moment is “absosmurfinlutely” but there are more.
I spent a lot of time reading Singer’s book last night. I don’t necessarily agree with all of it. He is a Preference Utilitarian whereas I am not. Still, we arrive at a lot of the same conclusions despite traveling to them along different paths. Much of what makes his writing interesting is that he relates his ideas & arguments to the real world instead of staying in a world of abstraction. And so, if he’s talking about the morality of how to treat non-human animals, then he also talks about how non-human animals are currently being treated.
The greatest challenge he poses, at least so far, is that he denies the existence of supererogatory actions. (It’s fun to be reacquainted with all these terms from college philosophy courses that I’d forgotten.) “Supererogatory” actions are those that, if performed, are good but that it is not wrong not to do them. For Singer, we are obligated to be morally good and we are obligated to be as good as possible. By this he means not only the frequency of good actions we perform but also that we carry out our moral obligations to fullest extent possible. E.g. - he would say that we are morally obliged to help feed those suffering from starvation. But giving $5 to Oxfam if you are not destitute is not fulfilling your obligation because you are not giving enough. Singer thinks that one should give as much as you can - as much as makes your life as austere as possible but that you don’t slide into poverty yourself.
Of course, this sounds mighty extreme and quixotic to us (comparatively) well-heeled Americans. This position can be attacked on several fronts from whether or not we are obliged to give to the poor in the first place to whether giving until we can give no more to famine relief and neglecting other charities will really bring about the greatest good. Regardless, he makes a good point about the general nature of being charitable. As he remarked, a person is lauded for giving to charity but not castigated for not giving to charity. I think this is the rub. Wherever you fall in the debate on how much to give, I believe that the most immediate issue is whether you give or not. That’s what struck me the most. That we – I – should be giving.
Another thing that reading Singer’s book has brought to the fore of my mind (and hinted at above) is simply obligations themselves. So far, I’ve only read sections on treatment of non-human animals and the sanctity of human life. Later in the book are bits on living an ethical life more generally but I’ve been thinking of them all along.
This morning it was “Single Girl” by 16 Horsepower. Granted, I have a Yankee accent but that just made the moments when I tried to sound Southern all the more humorous.
I read a piece saying that the death toll from the tsunami has reached 114,000. So I’m sitting here reading and thinking how dreadful the loss of life and destruction is when there a quote from Dubya: “"We will prevail over this destruction”. It just seems so…so…warlike. Yeah, there ‘s a bias on my part but I wondered why it didn’t read something like, “We will send food, aid, and medicine” blah blah blah. Where are words like “help” and “rebuild”? We Americans are not prevailing over any destruction because no tsunamis hit our coast. The object here is to help people who have had tragedy befall them, not fight a war. The only thing we Americans have to prevail over is our niggardliness. Do I buy the TiVo or give that money to Oxfam? Not a very tough decision for most of us, I’m afraid.
I’ve noticed something about myself recently. I think that it’s always been the case but I’m not always conscious of it. I’m referring to how I pick up other people’s phrases and ideas and use them. We all do it to an extent, I think. For instance, take the phrase “that’s cool”. It’s rather innocuous, isn’t it? Becca uses it all the time and now I’ve begun to use it. And so has Stevie. It is this generic phrase of approval.
Becca: “How was work today, Tim?”
Tim: “Well, I managed to get this stupid fucking NetMeeting to finally work after 2 days.”
Becca: “That’s cool.”
A variation including emphasis:
Becca: “How was your day, Tim?”
Tim: “Well, I helped a little old lady across the street and fed everyone in Sumatra.”
Becca: “That’s so cool!”
From The Dulcinea I got “not so much”. As in:
Becca: “Did you have a good day at work?”
Tim: “Mmm…not so much.”
The most recent addition to my vocabulary is “exsmurfly”, which I got from Marv and means “exactly”. This word (and its variations) has the added bonus of really annoying Pete. Exempli gratia:
Tim: “Since the orc is moving through my square, I get an attack of opportunity, right?”
Marv: “Exsmurfly!”
The only variation that I can recall at the moment is “absosmurfinlutely” but there are more.
I spent a lot of time reading Singer’s book last night. I don’t necessarily agree with all of it. He is a Preference Utilitarian whereas I am not. Still, we arrive at a lot of the same conclusions despite traveling to them along different paths. Much of what makes his writing interesting is that he relates his ideas & arguments to the real world instead of staying in a world of abstraction. And so, if he’s talking about the morality of how to treat non-human animals, then he also talks about how non-human animals are currently being treated.
The greatest challenge he poses, at least so far, is that he denies the existence of supererogatory actions. (It’s fun to be reacquainted with all these terms from college philosophy courses that I’d forgotten.) “Supererogatory” actions are those that, if performed, are good but that it is not wrong not to do them. For Singer, we are obligated to be morally good and we are obligated to be as good as possible. By this he means not only the frequency of good actions we perform but also that we carry out our moral obligations to fullest extent possible. E.g. - he would say that we are morally obliged to help feed those suffering from starvation. But giving $5 to Oxfam if you are not destitute is not fulfilling your obligation because you are not giving enough. Singer thinks that one should give as much as you can - as much as makes your life as austere as possible but that you don’t slide into poverty yourself.
Of course, this sounds mighty extreme and quixotic to us (comparatively) well-heeled Americans. This position can be attacked on several fronts from whether or not we are obliged to give to the poor in the first place to whether giving until we can give no more to famine relief and neglecting other charities will really bring about the greatest good. Regardless, he makes a good point about the general nature of being charitable. As he remarked, a person is lauded for giving to charity but not castigated for not giving to charity. I think this is the rub. Wherever you fall in the debate on how much to give, I believe that the most immediate issue is whether you give or not. That’s what struck me the most. That we – I – should be giving.
Another thing that reading Singer’s book has brought to the fore of my mind (and hinted at above) is simply obligations themselves. So far, I’ve only read sections on treatment of non-human animals and the sanctity of human life. Later in the book are bits on living an ethical life more generally but I’ve been thinking of them all along.
29 December, 2004
I Am Not A Rake
But am I progressing?
When you list all the qualities that you despise
And you realize
You're describing yourself
And breaking someone up inside
Is your only source of pride
I spent most of today setting up a couple PCs for 2 users who start Monday. After I got the networking issues sussed, the imaging process took forever and a day. The second required installation of Websphere which took about 45 minutes in itself. And this was version 5.0 – 5.1 takes even longer.
Tomorrow afternoon I’ll be meeting up with The Dulcinea so I can eat some humble pie and right what I can. I’ve thought about what I’m going to say but I’ve decided I’ll just wing it. Since she agreed to see me, I think I can say that I’m not completely reviled.
TiVo has a high novelty factor but I haven’t used it. Not much of interest on TV. Well, excepting some stuff on BookTV this weekend. I’d rather write or read. I got a fair amount of reading done and am now halfway done with Singer’s book. It’s quite excellent. A lot of food for thought, lemme tell ya. Contemplating his essay on how people should be giving a helluva lot more to feed the hungry worldwide makes TiVo a non-starter. It was a plea for us to give of ourselves to near poverty. Now I’m reading about the sanctity of life and abortion.
Regardless of the topic, Singer is thought-provoking but his words are also lucid, easy reading. I find my own morals to be nearly always challenged. I’m constantly thinking and rethinking my own positions on issues, my justifications for my views. It’s a challenge and a pleasure.
It’s weird to feel so low yet receive praise. For instance a musician wrote me today: “…you are ‘for the record’ an interesting writer with a viewpoint just enough off kilter to keep one engaged with your thought…”. From Laura: “I want to respond to your last long letter, but I'm at work now and busy tonight so it might be a couple of days. I wish that you lived closer. I'd really enjoy meeting you face to face. I'm sure we'd talk for hours. The phone just doesn't do justice to the impression you get when talking with someone in person.”
Indeed it doesn’t. How lucky for the both of us.
But am I progressing?
And you realize
You're describing yourself
And breaking someone up inside
Is your only source of pride
Tomorrow afternoon I’ll be meeting up with The Dulcinea so I can eat some humble pie and right what I can. I’ve thought about what I’m going to say but I’ve decided I’ll just wing it. Since she agreed to see me, I think I can say that I’m not completely reviled.
TiVo has a high novelty factor but I haven’t used it. Not much of interest on TV. Well, excepting some stuff on BookTV this weekend. I’d rather write or read. I got a fair amount of reading done and am now halfway done with Singer’s book. It’s quite excellent. A lot of food for thought, lemme tell ya. Contemplating his essay on how people should be giving a helluva lot more to feed the hungry worldwide makes TiVo a non-starter. It was a plea for us to give of ourselves to near poverty. Now I’m reading about the sanctity of life and abortion.
Regardless of the topic, Singer is thought-provoking but his words are also lucid, easy reading. I find my own morals to be nearly always challenged. I’m constantly thinking and rethinking my own positions on issues, my justifications for my views. It’s a challenge and a pleasure.
It’s weird to feel so low yet receive praise. For instance a musician wrote me today: “…you are ‘for the record’ an interesting writer with a viewpoint just enough off kilter to keep one engaged with your thought…”. From Laura: “I want to respond to your last long letter, but I'm at work now and busy tonight so it might be a couple of days. I wish that you lived closer. I'd really enjoy meeting you face to face. I'm sure we'd talk for hours. The phone just doesn't do justice to the impression you get when talking with someone in person.”
Indeed it doesn’t. How lucky for the both of us.
Yeah, People Come Up
I wish I could sing but, since I can’t, I’m thankful that no one heard me doing a bad imitation thereof in my car this morning. “People of the Sun” by Rage Against the Machine was crankin’. I haven’t got those guttural “uh!s” down yet. For instance, my favorite part of that song is: “Ya spine cracked for tobacco, oh I'm the Marlboro man, uh”. But my “uh” comes out sounding like I have Down’s Syndrome – you know, like Corky from Life Goes On. It makes me feel like I should be singing “Ob La Di, Ob La Da” instead. No Zack de La Rocha am I. But, hey, it’s all good. No one has to hear my awful attempt at singing and I get all fired up for work.
Last night I was reading my usual coterie of blogs which included The Dulcinea’s. I read something – don’t remember exactly what – and then something clicked in my head. A sudden sense of guilt, of shame lodged itself firmly in my head and heart. You try reading & writing about philosophy, about acting morally and such. It’s like I’d close my eyes and I’d see the Categorical Imperative in big, bold stern letters floating around the insides of my eyelids with this authoritative voice echoing, “Treat people as ends in themselves and never as means to ends…ends in themselves…ends in themselves…” I kinda feel like Rick in that episode of The Young Ones when he kills Neil and his conscience plagues him while he’s trying to sleep. “Rick…Rick…this is your conscience. You killed Neil…”
I was also being tired of feeling how I do. Tired of acting in opposition to what I really want. I keep having flashbacks to certain things my father did and find myself making the same mistakes he did. I should know better and I’ve spent a good chunk of my life trying to avoid making those same mistakes – trying to be unlike him. Didn’t Santayana have something addressing this?
It felt imperative that I not end 2004 in the ASSHOLE category. I was going to leave a comment on her blog but that wouldn’t be right. Then it was going to be an email but it too felt highly inappropriate. So I ended up writing her a letter. Better. But it occurs to me that saying what I’ve got say would be best done in person. So I emailed her asking if she could stand to be in my presence for a minute. I expect not so I’ve kept the letter ready for mailing. If you fuck up, you try to set things right. I fucked up and I have to try to set things right. I’ll meet you down there by the train…
Ooh! D20 for listen check! I just overheard a conversation in which a co-worker of mine revealed that he grew up with Gary Gygax’s kids and knows the guy. (Gygax is one of the co-creators of Dungeons & Dragons.)
I wish I could sing but, since I can’t, I’m thankful that no one heard me doing a bad imitation thereof in my car this morning. “People of the Sun” by Rage Against the Machine was crankin’. I haven’t got those guttural “uh!s” down yet. For instance, my favorite part of that song is: “Ya spine cracked for tobacco, oh I'm the Marlboro man, uh”. But my “uh” comes out sounding like I have Down’s Syndrome – you know, like Corky from Life Goes On. It makes me feel like I should be singing “Ob La Di, Ob La Da” instead. No Zack de La Rocha am I. But, hey, it’s all good. No one has to hear my awful attempt at singing and I get all fired up for work.
Last night I was reading my usual coterie of blogs which included The Dulcinea’s. I read something – don’t remember exactly what – and then something clicked in my head. A sudden sense of guilt, of shame lodged itself firmly in my head and heart. You try reading & writing about philosophy, about acting morally and such. It’s like I’d close my eyes and I’d see the Categorical Imperative in big, bold stern letters floating around the insides of my eyelids with this authoritative voice echoing, “Treat people as ends in themselves and never as means to ends…ends in themselves…ends in themselves…” I kinda feel like Rick in that episode of The Young Ones when he kills Neil and his conscience plagues him while he’s trying to sleep. “Rick…Rick…this is your conscience. You killed Neil…”
I was also being tired of feeling how I do. Tired of acting in opposition to what I really want. I keep having flashbacks to certain things my father did and find myself making the same mistakes he did. I should know better and I’ve spent a good chunk of my life trying to avoid making those same mistakes – trying to be unlike him. Didn’t Santayana have something addressing this?
It felt imperative that I not end 2004 in the ASSHOLE category. I was going to leave a comment on her blog but that wouldn’t be right. Then it was going to be an email but it too felt highly inappropriate. So I ended up writing her a letter. Better. But it occurs to me that saying what I’ve got say would be best done in person. So I emailed her asking if she could stand to be in my presence for a minute. I expect not so I’ve kept the letter ready for mailing. If you fuck up, you try to set things right. I fucked up and I have to try to set things right. I’ll meet you down there by the train…
Ooh! D20 for listen check! I just overheard a conversation in which a co-worker of mine revealed that he grew up with Gary Gygax’s kids and knows the guy. (Gygax is one of the co-creators of Dungeons & Dragons.)
28 December, 2004
Some Tunes
Some new tunes! Firstly, there's Hill County Revue by North Mississippi All-Stars. I read about a progressive rock band called Kopecky from Milwaukee that I wanna check out. They don't have any gigs listed but something will happen eventually. Right now I'm just psyched for the new PT album and to see them again.
OK, I'm off to read some more Singer and get all depressed about veal.
Some new tunes! Firstly, there's Hill County Revue by North Mississippi All-Stars. I read about a progressive rock band called Kopecky from Milwaukee that I wanna check out. They don't have any gigs listed but something will happen eventually. Right now I'm just psyched for the new PT album and to see them again.
OK, I'm off to read some more Singer and get all depressed about veal.
The Pr0n Revolution Will Be Televised
The Pr0n Revolution is here! We've got the 2 TiVos hooked up to our network. This means that they can download schedule info rather quickly. It also means we can transfer programs between the 2 very quickly. But the real bonus is that we can access media files on our computers via the TiVos and see/hear them on our TVs. For instance, as I type, Stevie is perusing some of his collection of nudie pictures that he stores on his PC on the TV in the den. In the near future we'll be able to access our blue movies and I can jack off while watching Au Pair Teenies on my big screen TV.
The Pr0n Revolution is here! We've got the 2 TiVos hooked up to our network. This means that they can download schedule info rather quickly. It also means we can transfer programs between the 2 very quickly. But the real bonus is that we can access media files on our computers via the TiVos and see/hear them on our TVs. For instance, as I type, Stevie is perusing some of his collection of nudie pictures that he stores on his PC on the TV in the den. In the near future we'll be able to access our blue movies and I can jack off while watching Au Pair Teenies on my big screen TV.
My Moral Capcity or Lack Thereof
Two and a half more hours of boredom.
I read some more of Singer’s book at lunch today. I must admit that I’m an old softy and that reading the part about calves raised for veal made my eyes water. I must also admit that I had no idea that it was a Wisconsin company that introduced modern veal-raising methods to this country in the early 1960s. Provimi, Inc. was headquartered in Watertown. As near as I can tell, they are no longer in business but there is a Provimi Road and the American Veal Association has an address on it. Singer makes a good case that the treatment of animals in factory farms is unethical and that eating products composed in part or in whole from animals from these farms is immoral. According to him, it’s a matter of speciesism, that is, humans tend to view humans as being inherently superior to non-human animals.
The thing that ran through my mind was this: Let’s grant Singer that factory farms are unethical and that eating food products from them is immoral. Let us also grant Singer that most people, at least in industrialized societies, are speciesists. What then are the effects? Well, besides the pain, suffering, and death of non-humans. What are the effects on us? Does eating Spam™ without regard to the plight of the animals whose flesh gets packed into the tins somehow degrade me, degrade my moral capacity?
Two and a half more hours of boredom.
I read some more of Singer’s book at lunch today. I must admit that I’m an old softy and that reading the part about calves raised for veal made my eyes water. I must also admit that I had no idea that it was a Wisconsin company that introduced modern veal-raising methods to this country in the early 1960s. Provimi, Inc. was headquartered in Watertown. As near as I can tell, they are no longer in business but there is a Provimi Road and the American Veal Association has an address on it. Singer makes a good case that the treatment of animals in factory farms is unethical and that eating products composed in part or in whole from animals from these farms is immoral. According to him, it’s a matter of speciesism, that is, humans tend to view humans as being inherently superior to non-human animals.
The thing that ran through my mind was this: Let’s grant Singer that factory farms are unethical and that eating food products from them is immoral. Let us also grant Singer that most people, at least in industrialized societies, are speciesists. What then are the effects? Well, besides the pain, suffering, and death of non-humans. What are the effects on us? Does eating Spam™ without regard to the plight of the animals whose flesh gets packed into the tins somehow degrade me, degrade my moral capacity?
Translation Complete
I’ve finished translating the Latin directions for the letterbox in Monona. It’s a bit rachitic but here it is:
”It begins by walking down the first footpath to the fish pond. Follow the path between two ponds. As the path splits, walk on the right. In a little while the path will again split. Stay on the right side of the path. Down 20 steps from the fork, look on the right for 5 large shagbark hickory trees in a worked field. It is near the fallen tree. The box is at the base.”
There’s at least a couple errors here but I think I’ve got it good enough to find the box.
I’ve finished translating the Latin directions for the letterbox in Monona. It’s a bit rachitic but here it is:
”It begins by walking down the first footpath to the fish pond. Follow the path between two ponds. As the path splits, walk on the right. In a little while the path will again split. Stay on the right side of the path. Down 20 steps from the fork, look on the right for 5 large shagbark hickory trees in a worked field. It is near the fallen tree. The box is at the base.”
There’s at least a couple errors here but I think I’ve got it good enough to find the box.
A Real Paine
Firstly I want to say that this chocolate croissant from TH is fucking tasty. I haven’t had one in a few days. While I bought one Friday for my drive down to Chicago, I got too lost in thought and forgot to eat it. Then I found myself on the exit ramp at Keeler with a homeless guy wandering from car to car. Since I covet chocolate so, I was going to give him some money but relaized that I had none as I’d forgotten to hit an ATM. So I gave my precious pastry to him. It was the Xmas season, after all.
I found a tape in my car that I hadn’t listened to in a while. It starts with a little White Stripes and then proceeds with some Rage Against the Machine. By the time I got to work, I was crankin’ some Porcupine Tree. A fun song about an insane guy who killed his family, no less. Perfect music to start my workday if there ever was any. This Tull gig – October 3, 1995 Stockholm – is, not unlike the croissant, really good. One site I saw listed it as an audience recording but it’s a soundboard.
I found the little metal hoolie for my pin so I can wear it again. I got me a nice Thomas Paine pin on my shirt today. We’ll see if anyone asks who he is.
Firstly I want to say that this chocolate croissant from TH is fucking tasty. I haven’t had one in a few days. While I bought one Friday for my drive down to Chicago, I got too lost in thought and forgot to eat it. Then I found myself on the exit ramp at Keeler with a homeless guy wandering from car to car. Since I covet chocolate so, I was going to give him some money but relaized that I had none as I’d forgotten to hit an ATM. So I gave my precious pastry to him. It was the Xmas season, after all.
I found a tape in my car that I hadn’t listened to in a while. It starts with a little White Stripes and then proceeds with some Rage Against the Machine. By the time I got to work, I was crankin’ some Porcupine Tree. A fun song about an insane guy who killed his family, no less. Perfect music to start my workday if there ever was any. This Tull gig – October 3, 1995 Stockholm – is, not unlike the croissant, really good. One site I saw listed it as an audience recording but it’s a soundboard.
I found the little metal hoolie for my pin so I can wear it again. I got me a nice Thomas Paine pin on my shirt today. We’ll see if anyone asks who he is.
27 December, 2004
I Just Watched Oprah
Amy came over this evening and she and I traipsed around the neighborhood knocking on doors to solicit signatures. At the end of the day, we collecxted enough to boost her total to 22. Twenty are needed to get on the ballot. One house was occupied by a 75 year-old womyn who lived alone. Lemme tell ya, she talked our fucking ears off. People were friendly for the most part and Amy chatted with Jason across the street for a while. He and his wife are both police officers and he had some concerns and he expressed his desire to have Brenda Konkel out of office. After leaving his house, we came back here and chatted for a while before Amy went home.
Becca, Stevie, and I just finished watching today's episode of Oprah that Becca TiVo'd. I got not one, but 2 Tull shows today in the mail. The one from Stockholm is really great. The drums sound nice and raw.
I see that Tempest is coming to town! Well, Stoughton, actually, but close enough. I saw them last in 1996 at The Chamber and it was a fantastic show. Any band with a guy that plays a doubleneck electric mandolin is alright by me.
Crystal and I are going to catch cocktails this week. By the sound of her email, it sounds like she really could use a couple. And Lola has agreed to contribute to my zine. Finally, Miss Pamela and I are signed up for the Bondage for Beginners class. I am sooo gonna bring my camera for that.
Amy came over this evening and she and I traipsed around the neighborhood knocking on doors to solicit signatures. At the end of the day, we collecxted enough to boost her total to 22. Twenty are needed to get on the ballot. One house was occupied by a 75 year-old womyn who lived alone. Lemme tell ya, she talked our fucking ears off. People were friendly for the most part and Amy chatted with Jason across the street for a while. He and his wife are both police officers and he had some concerns and he expressed his desire to have Brenda Konkel out of office. After leaving his house, we came back here and chatted for a while before Amy went home.
Becca, Stevie, and I just finished watching today's episode of Oprah that Becca TiVo'd. I got not one, but 2 Tull shows today in the mail. The one from Stockholm is really great. The drums sound nice and raw.
I see that Tempest is coming to town! Well, Stoughton, actually, but close enough. I saw them last in 1996 at The Chamber and it was a fantastic show. Any band with a guy that plays a doubleneck electric mandolin is alright by me.
Crystal and I are going to catch cocktails this week. By the sound of her email, it sounds like she really could use a couple. And Lola has agreed to contribute to my zine. Finally, Miss Pamela and I are signed up for the Bondage for Beginners class. I am sooo gonna bring my camera for that.
I’m Gonna Meet My Neighbors
I saw a hoolie in the Chicago Reader about a show of Tim Vermeulen’s art based on Dante’s Inferno. The one painting show, The Pit, was really cool. Instead of Virgil & Dante, we get 2 boys. Check his work out.
Tonight I get to help Amy canvas my neighborhood for signatures so she can get her swarvy ass on the ballot. But before that, I have to endure another 2 and a half hours of boredom here. I emailed Lola asking if she’d be willing to contribute to my (now purely theoretical) zine. I enjoy her writing immensely so I hope she is amenable to it. I was going to ask The Dulcinea to write something for it but, at this point, I’m not overly keen on publishing a character assassination of myself. Then again, who knows? It could make for entertaining reading.
On my way home, I must stop at A Woman’s Touch to register for that class and perhaps buy me something. I should probably also grab some milk too for hot chocolate. As per my desire to add less coffee to my life, I drank 2 cups of tea last night instead of brewing a pot of java. A small step but doesn’t every journey begin with but a single one?
The Weather Channel is forecasting a high of 52 on Thursday. Holy biscuits! I’m seriously thinking of going to the Art Institute on Friday morning. I could catch the medieval exhibit and then get home in time for any New Year’s cheer. Perhaps I can convince Marv to come with me.
I saw a hoolie in the Chicago Reader about a show of Tim Vermeulen’s art based on Dante’s Inferno. The one painting show, The Pit, was really cool. Instead of Virgil & Dante, we get 2 boys. Check his work out.
Tonight I get to help Amy canvas my neighborhood for signatures so she can get her swarvy ass on the ballot. But before that, I have to endure another 2 and a half hours of boredom here. I emailed Lola asking if she’d be willing to contribute to my (now purely theoretical) zine. I enjoy her writing immensely so I hope she is amenable to it. I was going to ask The Dulcinea to write something for it but, at this point, I’m not overly keen on publishing a character assassination of myself. Then again, who knows? It could make for entertaining reading.
On my way home, I must stop at A Woman’s Touch to register for that class and perhaps buy me something. I should probably also grab some milk too for hot chocolate. As per my desire to add less coffee to my life, I drank 2 cups of tea last night instead of brewing a pot of java. A small step but doesn’t every journey begin with but a single one?
The Weather Channel is forecasting a high of 52 on Thursday. Holy biscuits! I’m seriously thinking of going to the Art Institute on Friday morning. I could catch the medieval exhibit and then get home in time for any New Year’s cheer. Perhaps I can convince Marv to come with me.
Damn TiVo
Stevie, Becca, and I hung out together last night. Those 2 tried to figure out the TiVos and succeeded, for the most part. Honestly, I still don’t know fuck about it. I do see that there’s a few things on BookTV next weekend that I’d like to TiVo. That Richard Dawkins reading is going to be replayed, a Cornel West speech is gonna be broadcast, and there’s part deux of a roundtable discussion about the Founding Fathers and the American Revolution. Ooooh! And there’s a debate featuring William Dembski v. Niall Shanks about intelligent design – go Niall!!! Crush Dembski, see him driven before you, and hear the lamentations of his women!
I sent Laura a much overdue email yesterday. In my last missive to her, I revealed some personal information which has sent us tacking the windy seas of sociology and metaphysics. I related to her the events of 1996/97 and explained their effects on me. Well, tried to, at any rate. In her reply she said that various bits of what I had written about are paramount in her mind and asked several questions. Since my little epiphany involved Immanual Kant’s moral philosophy & tradition, she asked about these things. And so I spent way too much space writing about my conception of the importance of tradition and my relationship to the 2nd Formulation of the Categorical Imperative yesterday. But, hey, she asked.
It was in this spirit that decided that I was just bored with The Life of Pi and decided to move onto something else. (If anyone wants a free copy of it, lemme know.) This something else happened to be Writings on an Ethical Life by Peter Singer. My autographed copy, to boot. Although I only got about 30 pages in, it was fascinating. I need to go back and re-read the bit about defaulting to a form of utilitarianism. He stated that any morality based on the concept of universalization, such as Kant’s, does not rest on a solid rational foundation. This captured my attention because that is part of what happened to me back in ’96/’97 – I began to feel the basis for an ethical life was underpinned by the notion of universalization.
Writing and reading about philosophy really jump started my mind. Have I been acting ethically? How can I act more ethically? I think that Singer would begin by advising me to become a vegetarian. The odds of this are highly unlikely so I’ll have to find alternate methods of achieving a higher level of morality. But I don’t think he’d find a fault with me acting all Kantian’n’stuff, at least not generally.
In other news, Here’s the video shot by those goofballs I met backstage at the Jethro Tull concert last month. There’s some concert footage and an interview with drummer, Big Boy Doane Perry. I see that drug companies have issued an amber alert for Michael Moore. Uh oh! Amy wants to know what I’m doing tonight. It looks like I won’t be going to the cinema after all.
Stevie, Becca, and I hung out together last night. Those 2 tried to figure out the TiVos and succeeded, for the most part. Honestly, I still don’t know fuck about it. I do see that there’s a few things on BookTV next weekend that I’d like to TiVo. That Richard Dawkins reading is going to be replayed, a Cornel West speech is gonna be broadcast, and there’s part deux of a roundtable discussion about the Founding Fathers and the American Revolution. Ooooh! And there’s a debate featuring William Dembski v. Niall Shanks about intelligent design – go Niall!!! Crush Dembski, see him driven before you, and hear the lamentations of his women!
I sent Laura a much overdue email yesterday. In my last missive to her, I revealed some personal information which has sent us tacking the windy seas of sociology and metaphysics. I related to her the events of 1996/97 and explained their effects on me. Well, tried to, at any rate. In her reply she said that various bits of what I had written about are paramount in her mind and asked several questions. Since my little epiphany involved Immanual Kant’s moral philosophy & tradition, she asked about these things. And so I spent way too much space writing about my conception of the importance of tradition and my relationship to the 2nd Formulation of the Categorical Imperative yesterday. But, hey, she asked.
It was in this spirit that decided that I was just bored with The Life of Pi and decided to move onto something else. (If anyone wants a free copy of it, lemme know.) This something else happened to be Writings on an Ethical Life by Peter Singer. My autographed copy, to boot. Although I only got about 30 pages in, it was fascinating. I need to go back and re-read the bit about defaulting to a form of utilitarianism. He stated that any morality based on the concept of universalization, such as Kant’s, does not rest on a solid rational foundation. This captured my attention because that is part of what happened to me back in ’96/’97 – I began to feel the basis for an ethical life was underpinned by the notion of universalization.
Writing and reading about philosophy really jump started my mind. Have I been acting ethically? How can I act more ethically? I think that Singer would begin by advising me to become a vegetarian. The odds of this are highly unlikely so I’ll have to find alternate methods of achieving a higher level of morality. But I don’t think he’d find a fault with me acting all Kantian’n’stuff, at least not generally.
In other news, Here’s the video shot by those goofballs I met backstage at the Jethro Tull concert last month. There’s some concert footage and an interview with drummer, Big Boy Doane Perry. I see that drug companies have issued an amber alert for Michael Moore. Uh oh! Amy wants to know what I’m doing tonight. It looks like I won’t be going to the cinema after all.
26 December, 2004
Keeping Up
If I had any worry that our household wasn’t keeping up with the Joneses, they have officially been laid to rest. Becca got the Tivo that Stevie and I bought for her on Thursday night and Stevie went and bought another one this afternoon. In fact, he bought a high-capacity one with a built-in DVD writer. And soon it’ll be hooked up to our network which will allow us to snag pictures, videos, and mp3s from our computers and play/view them on our TVs. We are now the stylin’ bachelor/bachelorette pad. Big screen TV, Tivo, wireless network, and a newly painted kitchen. Add in one pontoon boat and we’re in like Flynn.
I got home Thursday night to find Stevie and Becca in media res of cooking our Xmas dinner. I took over and saved the Hollandaise sauce which freed Stevie to light a fire. We busted out a couple bottles of vino and had dinner. Afterwards we opened our presents and continued drinking. Stevie got pretty loaded and began to tell us how much he loved us and that we were the best roommates he ever had. He proceeded to ask us for input on what to do to the house next. It’s been his thing the past few years to take his tax return and remodel some part of the house. For his next trick, he’s been contemplating redoing the basement or putting new siding on the house. Becca suggested putting a bidet in the master bath and Stevie was quite amenable to the idea. Since the return comes in February, we still have a month or more to decide.
As Becca started putting food away, Stevie and I talked about Pete. He felt bad for having kicked him out but it had to be done for his sanity. But he also wanted to reestablish ties with him and asked me if I knew Pete’s feelings on the matter. I told him that I didn’t think that would be a problem. The conversation turned round corners and I found myself telling him about my dad and some of the things I’ve written about him. I told him of my plans to go visit my grandmother and aunt’s graves and Stevie said that, if I were up for it, he’d be happy to accompany me on a wee roadtrip. Some real manly bonding. Or something.
The phone rang and it was for me. Pete was on the other end. After establishing that it was me, he handed it over to someone else who introduced himself as a deputy sheriff. Pete had gotten a DUI and needed a ride home or else spend the night in the pokey. I agreed to fetch his ass and lied to the officer by saying that I was sober as a judge. Luckily, the officer’s shift was ending and, since he lived on this side of town, he offered to drop Pete’s drunk ass over here. While waiting for them to arrive, Stevie disappeared out the back door. Becca and I thought he was just stepping out to get some more wood for the fire but, after several minutes, he hadn’t yet returned. I wandered around outside to see where the hell he’d gone off to but found no trace of him. He hadn’t worn a jacket and I wasn’t sure just how thick the ice was on the pond. Coming back inside, it wasn’t long before Officer Friendly arrived with Pete. I signed some paperwork and had him released into my custody. Part of this Faustian bargain was that Pete was my responsibility for the next 12 hours. I referred to him as “Detainee” the rest of the night as per the paperwork bearing my signature.
Pete and I then went out to look for Stevie again and eventually found him across the pond at a neighbor’s house. Once he returned, he shared a bowl with Pete and offered him some food. The two of them got along fine as I knew they would. I drank some more liqueur-laced coffee and then gave Pete a ride to the towing company where his house keys awaited. After dropping him off at home, I came back to my own and futzed around a bit before heading to bed.
I got a late start Xmas Eve but I made it to my brother’s place on time. Andy, Carl, and I hung out and watched the first half of the Packers game at their place. Carl and I then headed off to Elkie’s to watch the 2nd half. The place was populated with a few regulars but was otherwise empty. One guy at the corner of the bar was shitfaced. While watching the game, I heard a few thumps from his area. I looked over and found that he had knocked over his bottle 4 times in a row. After the last time, there was still just a bit left in it and the exasperated bartender, a hot Polish lass, poured the rest out on him. The guy started calling her a “fucking cunt” and the like. He was a regular and they knew one another well so nothing was made of his vulgarity. Andy joined us and the Packers proceeded to win. Then it was off to my mom’s.
Xmas Eve was pretty uneventful excepting the argument. My cousin, Sue, started talking to Rusty and asked if true love were possible. The whole thing took a tangent off to separation of church & state. This got Barb dragged in as she was a judge. Fortunately, she was adamant that the wall stand. Then things wound back to relationships. Sue has been dating a guy and their relationship recently became a long-distance one. Having been “burned” by her last boyfriend, I guess she’d become a little gun-shy, so to speak. She then asked me if I ever wanted to have kids. “Nope.” Did I ever want to get married? “Nope.” She then said that the only way she’d ever get married was to have kids and she seemed ambivalent about that, at best. And so it looks like my generation on my mom’s is to be the end of the line.
Xmas Day I went out to Cary to hang with The Don and Betty and her family. It was fun. There were younger children there and it was nice to watch then get all excited when they opened their gifts. Plus I got to shoot the shit with The Don. He told me a story about my dad. The two of them were watching my brother and cousin at my old house in Chicago while my mom & aunt went shopping. They went to visit the neighbor down the street and began drinking. Then they came back to my house and drank some more. Soon they were out on the lawn throwing a ball around. At the end of the day, my dad broke his clavicle and my uncle passed out on our front lawn. He concluded the story by saying, “It took me a long time to live that one down.” I stayed out there too long and ended up driving home that night.
Driving can be alright. I get some time to myself to think things over. On the way down, I thought myself into a depression but got out of it by playing “Up Over Yonder” by the North Mississippi All-Stars really loudly and singing. On the drive back I realized that I need to make some changes in my life, need to do some things to set my mind right. The proof won’t arrive until a year from now but I’ve got some plans.
First of all, there’s my health. I want to cut down on coffee and rehydrate myself. Drink more water. Second, I want to get myself tested for STDs. I kinda got into the habit of that after dating Miss M.D. but have fallen off the wagon. And now that I know that The Dulcinea was seeing other men while we were dating and having severely unprotected sex, it seems like a really good time to get tested. Finally, I could stand to lose some weight. 50-60lbs. Must eat better and exercise.
On the intellectual front, I need to finish The Life of Pi and get on to other books that have been in the pipeline for a while now. I want to read books about things that occupy my mind. There’s a couple classes I’d like to take too.
In the large miscellaneous category, there’s a host of things. I wanna do a show on WORT, do some travel, make a documentary, publish a zine, put up a web page, continue absorbing culture, and, perhaps, move. I’ll be a literacy volunteer too. Of course, I also need a new womyn. The Dulcinea thought I slept with everything that moved and another womyn told me that she thought I could get laid at will. While neither of these are true, they are also not true now.
If I had any worry that our household wasn’t keeping up with the Joneses, they have officially been laid to rest. Becca got the Tivo that Stevie and I bought for her on Thursday night and Stevie went and bought another one this afternoon. In fact, he bought a high-capacity one with a built-in DVD writer. And soon it’ll be hooked up to our network which will allow us to snag pictures, videos, and mp3s from our computers and play/view them on our TVs. We are now the stylin’ bachelor/bachelorette pad. Big screen TV, Tivo, wireless network, and a newly painted kitchen. Add in one pontoon boat and we’re in like Flynn.
I got home Thursday night to find Stevie and Becca in media res of cooking our Xmas dinner. I took over and saved the Hollandaise sauce which freed Stevie to light a fire. We busted out a couple bottles of vino and had dinner. Afterwards we opened our presents and continued drinking. Stevie got pretty loaded and began to tell us how much he loved us and that we were the best roommates he ever had. He proceeded to ask us for input on what to do to the house next. It’s been his thing the past few years to take his tax return and remodel some part of the house. For his next trick, he’s been contemplating redoing the basement or putting new siding on the house. Becca suggested putting a bidet in the master bath and Stevie was quite amenable to the idea. Since the return comes in February, we still have a month or more to decide.
As Becca started putting food away, Stevie and I talked about Pete. He felt bad for having kicked him out but it had to be done for his sanity. But he also wanted to reestablish ties with him and asked me if I knew Pete’s feelings on the matter. I told him that I didn’t think that would be a problem. The conversation turned round corners and I found myself telling him about my dad and some of the things I’ve written about him. I told him of my plans to go visit my grandmother and aunt’s graves and Stevie said that, if I were up for it, he’d be happy to accompany me on a wee roadtrip. Some real manly bonding. Or something.
The phone rang and it was for me. Pete was on the other end. After establishing that it was me, he handed it over to someone else who introduced himself as a deputy sheriff. Pete had gotten a DUI and needed a ride home or else spend the night in the pokey. I agreed to fetch his ass and lied to the officer by saying that I was sober as a judge. Luckily, the officer’s shift was ending and, since he lived on this side of town, he offered to drop Pete’s drunk ass over here. While waiting for them to arrive, Stevie disappeared out the back door. Becca and I thought he was just stepping out to get some more wood for the fire but, after several minutes, he hadn’t yet returned. I wandered around outside to see where the hell he’d gone off to but found no trace of him. He hadn’t worn a jacket and I wasn’t sure just how thick the ice was on the pond. Coming back inside, it wasn’t long before Officer Friendly arrived with Pete. I signed some paperwork and had him released into my custody. Part of this Faustian bargain was that Pete was my responsibility for the next 12 hours. I referred to him as “Detainee” the rest of the night as per the paperwork bearing my signature.
Pete and I then went out to look for Stevie again and eventually found him across the pond at a neighbor’s house. Once he returned, he shared a bowl with Pete and offered him some food. The two of them got along fine as I knew they would. I drank some more liqueur-laced coffee and then gave Pete a ride to the towing company where his house keys awaited. After dropping him off at home, I came back to my own and futzed around a bit before heading to bed.
I got a late start Xmas Eve but I made it to my brother’s place on time. Andy, Carl, and I hung out and watched the first half of the Packers game at their place. Carl and I then headed off to Elkie’s to watch the 2nd half. The place was populated with a few regulars but was otherwise empty. One guy at the corner of the bar was shitfaced. While watching the game, I heard a few thumps from his area. I looked over and found that he had knocked over his bottle 4 times in a row. After the last time, there was still just a bit left in it and the exasperated bartender, a hot Polish lass, poured the rest out on him. The guy started calling her a “fucking cunt” and the like. He was a regular and they knew one another well so nothing was made of his vulgarity. Andy joined us and the Packers proceeded to win. Then it was off to my mom’s.
Xmas Eve was pretty uneventful excepting the argument. My cousin, Sue, started talking to Rusty and asked if true love were possible. The whole thing took a tangent off to separation of church & state. This got Barb dragged in as she was a judge. Fortunately, she was adamant that the wall stand. Then things wound back to relationships. Sue has been dating a guy and their relationship recently became a long-distance one. Having been “burned” by her last boyfriend, I guess she’d become a little gun-shy, so to speak. She then asked me if I ever wanted to have kids. “Nope.” Did I ever want to get married? “Nope.” She then said that the only way she’d ever get married was to have kids and she seemed ambivalent about that, at best. And so it looks like my generation on my mom’s is to be the end of the line.
Xmas Day I went out to Cary to hang with The Don and Betty and her family. It was fun. There were younger children there and it was nice to watch then get all excited when they opened their gifts. Plus I got to shoot the shit with The Don. He told me a story about my dad. The two of them were watching my brother and cousin at my old house in Chicago while my mom & aunt went shopping. They went to visit the neighbor down the street and began drinking. Then they came back to my house and drank some more. Soon they were out on the lawn throwing a ball around. At the end of the day, my dad broke his clavicle and my uncle passed out on our front lawn. He concluded the story by saying, “It took me a long time to live that one down.” I stayed out there too long and ended up driving home that night.
Driving can be alright. I get some time to myself to think things over. On the way down, I thought myself into a depression but got out of it by playing “Up Over Yonder” by the North Mississippi All-Stars really loudly and singing. On the drive back I realized that I need to make some changes in my life, need to do some things to set my mind right. The proof won’t arrive until a year from now but I’ve got some plans.
First of all, there’s my health. I want to cut down on coffee and rehydrate myself. Drink more water. Second, I want to get myself tested for STDs. I kinda got into the habit of that after dating Miss M.D. but have fallen off the wagon. And now that I know that The Dulcinea was seeing other men while we were dating and having severely unprotected sex, it seems like a really good time to get tested. Finally, I could stand to lose some weight. 50-60lbs. Must eat better and exercise.
On the intellectual front, I need to finish The Life of Pi and get on to other books that have been in the pipeline for a while now. I want to read books about things that occupy my mind. There’s a couple classes I’d like to take too.
In the large miscellaneous category, there’s a host of things. I wanna do a show on WORT, do some travel, make a documentary, publish a zine, put up a web page, continue absorbing culture, and, perhaps, move. I’ll be a literacy volunteer too. Of course, I also need a new womyn. The Dulcinea thought I slept with everything that moved and another womyn told me that she thought I could get laid at will. While neither of these are true, they are also not true now.
25 December, 2004
Everybody Needs One
I have all this great new music in my collection and thought that I ought to make a mix CD for you. It didn’t take long for my brain box to realize that you’d never hear it. I stacked all those Doctor Who CDs up neatly in my room wondering how it was that I’d never given them to you.
Stevie mentioned you on Thursday night (more of which I’ll write about later) and I told him that whatever bonds we may have had had been riven in twain by me. He remarked that it was too bad as he liked you a lot. Becca then chimed in with her own, “Awww…yeah, that is too bad. She was really cool.” Stevie then asked if you could come over anyway to hang out.
This scene then mysteriously replayed itself yesterday at my brother’s apartment. I was talking with Andy as we were looking at some stuff he had downloaded. (His dad gave him a copy of the OED on CD-ROM. The whole shebang, not the Concise OED that I have.) and he asked about you. I told him what had transpired between us and he said that it was a shame because, even though he met you only the one time, he thought you were cool. My brother was in the other room but had overheard the conversation and asked, “You broke up with her? That’s too bad – she was really nice.”
OK, OK – I’ll have a scarlet A affixed to my coat and then hang out in the stocks on Sunday.
I have all this great new music in my collection and thought that I ought to make a mix CD for you. It didn’t take long for my brain box to realize that you’d never hear it. I stacked all those Doctor Who CDs up neatly in my room wondering how it was that I’d never given them to you.
Stevie mentioned you on Thursday night (more of which I’ll write about later) and I told him that whatever bonds we may have had had been riven in twain by me. He remarked that it was too bad as he liked you a lot. Becca then chimed in with her own, “Awww…yeah, that is too bad. She was really cool.” Stevie then asked if you could come over anyway to hang out.
This scene then mysteriously replayed itself yesterday at my brother’s apartment. I was talking with Andy as we were looking at some stuff he had downloaded. (His dad gave him a copy of the OED on CD-ROM. The whole shebang, not the Concise OED that I have.) and he asked about you. I told him what had transpired between us and he said that it was a shame because, even though he met you only the one time, he thought you were cool. My brother was in the other room but had overheard the conversation and asked, “You broke up with her? That’s too bad – she was really nice.”
OK, OK – I’ll have a scarlet A affixed to my coat and then hang out in the stocks on Sunday.
24 December, 2004
23 December, 2004
Dear Dad
Dear Dad,
I’ve been thinking of you lately. I’ll be heading down to Chicago for Xmas and will be seeing Don & Betty and no doubt you’ll be part of the conversation at some point. And with the end of 2004 just around the corner, I’ve been in a retrospective mood. I feel sad that my only memories of you from this year were your voice coming through a telephone and your ashes in a plastic bag.. I have to go back several years to find a happy memory of you. 1998, maybe. The problem is that my mind just can’t jump to particular memory like a CD player can skip to a track. Instead it fast-forwards through everything with all those memories in-between rearing their heads. One very irksome memory came to mind that I’d forgotten about. It happened shortly after Joni died. I went to visit you one weekend and, upon walking in the door, you were nowhere to be seen. I figured you were sleeping so I just grabbed something to drink and watched some TV until you awoke from your drunken stupor. After a while, you walked out of your bedroom. You were surprised to see me as you had forgotten that I’d told you I would be visiting. For my part, I was surprised that you were naked and that you refused to put on any clothes. To complete the amazing trifecta, you shit on the floor before you went back to bed. I suppose it’s only fair that I had to clean it up as you changed my diapers when I was young, right? Why it is that my mind is adamant on bringing this and like memories up from storage is beyond me. Being Christmas time, I’m trying to recall a happy Xmas memory but I can’t. Maybe something will come back to me but, for the moment, I have absolutely no memories of you from the holiday season happy or otherwise. Granted, we haven’t spent a Xmas together since 1985 but you’d think I’d be able to resurrect something from the corners of my cranium. What is wrong with me?
I don’t think I ever told you (why would I have?), but I wrote a poem about Grandpa B. Well, not really about him, more about his absence. It’s difficult to write about someone you’ve never met nor heard much about. So why exactly did you hate him so much? I know about the beatings…why was Gene able to make his peace with him while you weren’t? I’ve been thinking that I should make a trek to Iowa next year and visit Grandma B.’s grave. I don’t know exactly why. When was the last time I saw her? I think she died in 1985 and I probably saw her last in – what? – 1983? It might be a nice way to welcome in the spring – go on a little roadtrip and do some navel gazing upon a woman I barely knew. Put death in perspective and in its place to welcome the rebirth of life and all that stuff. Does that make any sense? OK. Onto other matters…
It’s a balmy 45 down in Natchitoches now. Cold for you, I know, but better than the single digits we have here. Colder than a witch’s tit in a brass brassiere! The woman I told you about in my last letter and I are no longer seeing one another. She sent me an email in which she relayed her desire to be let further into my circle of sympathies but I didn’t want her there. Quite honestly, I have no idea why she wanted to be let in. What did she want from someone whom she thought of as a childish, selfish, asshole who repeatedly told her that he didn’t want any emotional intimacy (or whatever you wanna call it) – why in the name of Jehovah did she persist? Every time I open myself up to a woman, I invariably am told how dark and ugly it is in there. It gets old quickly and it’s gotten so old that it’s become completely predictable. This woman is really smart and she figured it all out early on, which makes the whole ordeal even more perplexing.
Carl is doing OK. I’ll be heading over to his place tomorrow to watch the Vikings play the Packers. He’s currently seeking out a Vikings bar at which to watch it before we head over to mom’s. I presume he means me harm as, no doubt, a lone Packer fan wouldn’t stand a chance against a bar full of those crazy big city folks. On Saturday, we’re going to Ted’s house over in the old neighborhood and then Sue and I will go to Betty’s son’s place to meet up with her and Don. The first Xmas I can recall where I won’t be going out to Barrington. I can understand Carol not wanting to host anything with Harry gone, though. Then on Sunday my friends and I are going to play Dungeons & Dragons over at Chris’ place and wind down from the holiday. Another short work week follows and then it’s New Years. At the moment, I’m planning on spending it at a friend’s house out in the country and cooking up a bunch of soul food along with cocktailing.
Next year I become a volunteer adult literacy tutor – kinda sorta following in mom’s footsteps. I also need to do some job hunting as the position I’m at now looks to end by April. I hope to do some travel come summer, see some concerts, and the like. You know how I am – I take things as they come, for the most part. Ya know, maybe I’ll go visit grandma’s grave on the anniversary of your death. Kind of wrap all this family stuff together in one roadtrip. And isn’t Dorene buried there too? Actually, there’s a country ton of things I wanna do. Host a radio program, write a story – so many things. I’ve also decided to get more involved in politics. I’m helping a friend who’s running for a city council seat here in Madison but I’d also like to get involved with politics on the state level. I met a fellow atheist who is an active member of the Democratic Party of Wisconsin and he was quite inspirational. A lot of Christians in the country are really creeping me out, Dad. I’ve always been fascinated with Thomas Jefferson (BTW, thanks again for that 6 volume biography of him) and his conception of a Wall of Separation between church & state is sorely needed now. Part of it is to keep religion out of my life but I’m also firmly convinced that mixing the two leads to tyranny of some kind. It soils both. I mean, the Founding Fathers were well-aware of the bloodshed borne from their intermingling. I think the point of the First Amendment was to declare a Treaty of Westphalia before decades of war instead of after. I hope I find the motivation because it’s getting sadder all the time just sitting here on the sidelines watching it all happen. Anyway, 2005 should be an interesting year.
I’ll end by saying that it’s so strange to think you’ve been gone for 9 months now. Those weeks I spent in Louisiana this spring by myself stretched on forever, it seemed. My mantra was “This too shall pass” and shove a spoon up my ass sideways if it didn’t. I got home to Madison despite The Teamsters’ best efforts. And, while I think I’ve come to grips with your death for the most part, I’ve got a lot of learning to do. I figure that, if I learn about you, I’ll learn about myself. I spent some time last night looking at a picture of grandpa. Well, the only one I have. It’s the one with him and one of his 5 or 6 wives standing outside of a tent. So, he had half a dozen and you had 2, do you suppose I could handle even 1?
Alright Old Man, I’m outta here. I’ve got a lunch date with a couch & a fireplace. Until next year…
Much love,
Tim
Dear Dad,
I’ve been thinking of you lately. I’ll be heading down to Chicago for Xmas and will be seeing Don & Betty and no doubt you’ll be part of the conversation at some point. And with the end of 2004 just around the corner, I’ve been in a retrospective mood. I feel sad that my only memories of you from this year were your voice coming through a telephone and your ashes in a plastic bag.. I have to go back several years to find a happy memory of you. 1998, maybe. The problem is that my mind just can’t jump to particular memory like a CD player can skip to a track. Instead it fast-forwards through everything with all those memories in-between rearing their heads. One very irksome memory came to mind that I’d forgotten about. It happened shortly after Joni died. I went to visit you one weekend and, upon walking in the door, you were nowhere to be seen. I figured you were sleeping so I just grabbed something to drink and watched some TV until you awoke from your drunken stupor. After a while, you walked out of your bedroom. You were surprised to see me as you had forgotten that I’d told you I would be visiting. For my part, I was surprised that you were naked and that you refused to put on any clothes. To complete the amazing trifecta, you shit on the floor before you went back to bed. I suppose it’s only fair that I had to clean it up as you changed my diapers when I was young, right? Why it is that my mind is adamant on bringing this and like memories up from storage is beyond me. Being Christmas time, I’m trying to recall a happy Xmas memory but I can’t. Maybe something will come back to me but, for the moment, I have absolutely no memories of you from the holiday season happy or otherwise. Granted, we haven’t spent a Xmas together since 1985 but you’d think I’d be able to resurrect something from the corners of my cranium. What is wrong with me?
I don’t think I ever told you (why would I have?), but I wrote a poem about Grandpa B. Well, not really about him, more about his absence. It’s difficult to write about someone you’ve never met nor heard much about. So why exactly did you hate him so much? I know about the beatings…why was Gene able to make his peace with him while you weren’t? I’ve been thinking that I should make a trek to Iowa next year and visit Grandma B.’s grave. I don’t know exactly why. When was the last time I saw her? I think she died in 1985 and I probably saw her last in – what? – 1983? It might be a nice way to welcome in the spring – go on a little roadtrip and do some navel gazing upon a woman I barely knew. Put death in perspective and in its place to welcome the rebirth of life and all that stuff. Does that make any sense? OK. Onto other matters…
It’s a balmy 45 down in Natchitoches now. Cold for you, I know, but better than the single digits we have here. Colder than a witch’s tit in a brass brassiere! The woman I told you about in my last letter and I are no longer seeing one another. She sent me an email in which she relayed her desire to be let further into my circle of sympathies but I didn’t want her there. Quite honestly, I have no idea why she wanted to be let in. What did she want from someone whom she thought of as a childish, selfish, asshole who repeatedly told her that he didn’t want any emotional intimacy (or whatever you wanna call it) – why in the name of Jehovah did she persist? Every time I open myself up to a woman, I invariably am told how dark and ugly it is in there. It gets old quickly and it’s gotten so old that it’s become completely predictable. This woman is really smart and she figured it all out early on, which makes the whole ordeal even more perplexing.
Carl is doing OK. I’ll be heading over to his place tomorrow to watch the Vikings play the Packers. He’s currently seeking out a Vikings bar at which to watch it before we head over to mom’s. I presume he means me harm as, no doubt, a lone Packer fan wouldn’t stand a chance against a bar full of those crazy big city folks. On Saturday, we’re going to Ted’s house over in the old neighborhood and then Sue and I will go to Betty’s son’s place to meet up with her and Don. The first Xmas I can recall where I won’t be going out to Barrington. I can understand Carol not wanting to host anything with Harry gone, though. Then on Sunday my friends and I are going to play Dungeons & Dragons over at Chris’ place and wind down from the holiday. Another short work week follows and then it’s New Years. At the moment, I’m planning on spending it at a friend’s house out in the country and cooking up a bunch of soul food along with cocktailing.
Next year I become a volunteer adult literacy tutor – kinda sorta following in mom’s footsteps. I also need to do some job hunting as the position I’m at now looks to end by April. I hope to do some travel come summer, see some concerts, and the like. You know how I am – I take things as they come, for the most part. Ya know, maybe I’ll go visit grandma’s grave on the anniversary of your death. Kind of wrap all this family stuff together in one roadtrip. And isn’t Dorene buried there too? Actually, there’s a country ton of things I wanna do. Host a radio program, write a story – so many things. I’ve also decided to get more involved in politics. I’m helping a friend who’s running for a city council seat here in Madison but I’d also like to get involved with politics on the state level. I met a fellow atheist who is an active member of the Democratic Party of Wisconsin and he was quite inspirational. A lot of Christians in the country are really creeping me out, Dad. I’ve always been fascinated with Thomas Jefferson (BTW, thanks again for that 6 volume biography of him) and his conception of a Wall of Separation between church & state is sorely needed now. Part of it is to keep religion out of my life but I’m also firmly convinced that mixing the two leads to tyranny of some kind. It soils both. I mean, the Founding Fathers were well-aware of the bloodshed borne from their intermingling. I think the point of the First Amendment was to declare a Treaty of Westphalia before decades of war instead of after. I hope I find the motivation because it’s getting sadder all the time just sitting here on the sidelines watching it all happen. Anyway, 2005 should be an interesting year.
I’ll end by saying that it’s so strange to think you’ve been gone for 9 months now. Those weeks I spent in Louisiana this spring by myself stretched on forever, it seemed. My mantra was “This too shall pass” and shove a spoon up my ass sideways if it didn’t. I got home to Madison despite The Teamsters’ best efforts. And, while I think I’ve come to grips with your death for the most part, I’ve got a lot of learning to do. I figure that, if I learn about you, I’ll learn about myself. I spent some time last night looking at a picture of grandpa. Well, the only one I have. It’s the one with him and one of his 5 or 6 wives standing outside of a tent. So, he had half a dozen and you had 2, do you suppose I could handle even 1?
Alright Old Man, I’m outta here. I’ve got a lunch date with a couch & a fireplace. Until next year…
Much love,
Tim
Jigsaw Pieces
Work is deader than a doornail. The queue hasn’t changed since about 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon. But I’ve got some music and a couple episodes of The Next Life here along with some magazines.
I just sent an email to Ralston telling him that I’d received his CD. I gave it a couple cursory spins yesterday while I was here at work and found “What Kind of Friend” to be an especially moving song. I definitely like what I hear so far and it will be a pleasure to actually be able to tell a musician directly, albeit via e-mail, how much I enjoyed his work and how much it means to me. When a song really moves me, when it gets under my skin, and becomes part of me, I often get this desire to thank the musician for having created the song. A lot of these musicians are, unfortunately, dead. For instance, I’ll never be able to thank Blind Willie Johnson for “Dark Was the Night (Cold Was the Ground)” or “Praise God I’m Satisfied”. And I’ll probably never meet the guys in Genesis to thank (or curse, as the case may be) for having given me an obsession that’s lasted about 22 years and who knows how much money – so far. “What Kind of Friend” is just one of those great songs. Even if I were to find the rest of the album to be for shite, I’d still keep the CD for just that one song and it’ll be fulfilling to be able to tell that song’s creator just what a fantastic job he did.
Last night I hit the sack early so I could settle underneath the covers and listen to the last two parts of The Next Life. That Rassilon guy is a real bastard! I made it through the penultimate episode and found myself getting excited about hearing the super finale whopper hoolie. So I go and fall asleep in the middle of it but I swear that I woke up and heard the end before falling asleep again. And I’d swear that the Daleks were involved. But that doesn’t make sense so I’ve got this theory that it was a dream. But I can’t be sure. Well, until I listen to it here shortly, that is. When I pulled it out of the CD player this morning, I looked at the big pile of CDs sitting atop it. All these Doctor Who episodes that I’ve listened to at night over the past several months have just been left there to gather dust. I can’t just throw them away. I suppose I’ll have to find a good home for the precious shiny dics.
Tonight Stevie, Becca, and I are going to eat dinner together and open gifts. Unsurprisingly I haven’t gotten Stevie anything yet. Maybe when I run out to East Towne tonight I’ll grab his something. He’s gonna paint the kitchen today – chianti or some such metrosexual color. Becca remarked to him that the kitchen should be painted brown and apparently he took the comment to heart. I whipped up a glaze for a ham last night. Stevie has a hardon for one and neither he nor Becca have to work today so it was my responsibility to throw together a glaze and give explicit cooking instructions. I basically told him, “Get some cloves and stick them in the ham then spread the jizz in the Pyrex measuring cup on top. From there, follow the directions on the ham’s label.”
Miss Pamela e-mailed me asking for some Latin to be translated for her next tattoo. I ended up giving her a little Latin lesson. But hey, I wanted to give her options so she could have the freshest tattoo around.
I listened to a mix CD that The Dulcinea gave me. Holy Christ is there a lot from Wilco’s AM on here! I’m glad I never gave her a copy of Anodyne, otherwise I’d be in deep shite. I’d been meaning to give her a copy of March 16-20 1992 but can’t remember if I ever did. Now I’ve put on another one and there’s more Wilco! Now I find myself wanting to hear that demo of “No Depression” with Jeff Tweedy doing backing vocals when he was all of 18 or 19.
I’m going to try to finish a letter to my dad that I started a couple of days ago. I began writing it while listening to, ironically enough, “Goldfish & Clowns” and will hopefully finish it listening to…”That’s Not the Issue”?
”There are vampires in the park, Mawgojzeta”
Work is deader than a doornail. The queue hasn’t changed since about 3 o’clock yesterday afternoon. But I’ve got some music and a couple episodes of The Next Life here along with some magazines.
I just sent an email to Ralston telling him that I’d received his CD. I gave it a couple cursory spins yesterday while I was here at work and found “What Kind of Friend” to be an especially moving song. I definitely like what I hear so far and it will be a pleasure to actually be able to tell a musician directly, albeit via e-mail, how much I enjoyed his work and how much it means to me. When a song really moves me, when it gets under my skin, and becomes part of me, I often get this desire to thank the musician for having created the song. A lot of these musicians are, unfortunately, dead. For instance, I’ll never be able to thank Blind Willie Johnson for “Dark Was the Night (Cold Was the Ground)” or “Praise God I’m Satisfied”. And I’ll probably never meet the guys in Genesis to thank (or curse, as the case may be) for having given me an obsession that’s lasted about 22 years and who knows how much money – so far. “What Kind of Friend” is just one of those great songs. Even if I were to find the rest of the album to be for shite, I’d still keep the CD for just that one song and it’ll be fulfilling to be able to tell that song’s creator just what a fantastic job he did.
Last night I hit the sack early so I could settle underneath the covers and listen to the last two parts of The Next Life. That Rassilon guy is a real bastard! I made it through the penultimate episode and found myself getting excited about hearing the super finale whopper hoolie. So I go and fall asleep in the middle of it but I swear that I woke up and heard the end before falling asleep again. And I’d swear that the Daleks were involved. But that doesn’t make sense so I’ve got this theory that it was a dream. But I can’t be sure. Well, until I listen to it here shortly, that is. When I pulled it out of the CD player this morning, I looked at the big pile of CDs sitting atop it. All these Doctor Who episodes that I’ve listened to at night over the past several months have just been left there to gather dust. I can’t just throw them away. I suppose I’ll have to find a good home for the precious shiny dics.
Tonight Stevie, Becca, and I are going to eat dinner together and open gifts. Unsurprisingly I haven’t gotten Stevie anything yet. Maybe when I run out to East Towne tonight I’ll grab his something. He’s gonna paint the kitchen today – chianti or some such metrosexual color. Becca remarked to him that the kitchen should be painted brown and apparently he took the comment to heart. I whipped up a glaze for a ham last night. Stevie has a hardon for one and neither he nor Becca have to work today so it was my responsibility to throw together a glaze and give explicit cooking instructions. I basically told him, “Get some cloves and stick them in the ham then spread the jizz in the Pyrex measuring cup on top. From there, follow the directions on the ham’s label.”
Miss Pamela e-mailed me asking for some Latin to be translated for her next tattoo. I ended up giving her a little Latin lesson. But hey, I wanted to give her options so she could have the freshest tattoo around.
I listened to a mix CD that The Dulcinea gave me. Holy Christ is there a lot from Wilco’s AM on here! I’m glad I never gave her a copy of Anodyne, otherwise I’d be in deep shite. I’d been meaning to give her a copy of March 16-20 1992 but can’t remember if I ever did. Now I’ve put on another one and there’s more Wilco! Now I find myself wanting to hear that demo of “No Depression” with Jeff Tweedy doing backing vocals when he was all of 18 or 19.
I’m going to try to finish a letter to my dad that I started a couple of days ago. I began writing it while listening to, ironically enough, “Goldfish & Clowns” and will hopefully finish it listening to…”That’s Not the Issue”?
”There are vampires in the park, Mawgojzeta”
22 December, 2004
A New Career?
Walking outside this morning, my warm breath clouded in the sharp and frosty morning. Having a smoky treat a little while ago, I just stood and watched the water vapor swirl atop Lake Monona. It was such a calm, peaceful scene that stood in contrast to all the traffic noise I heard behind me. Work is slow, as it to be expected.
Just I as proved my lack of ability with our new oven a couple days ago, I now find out that my proficiency with the calendar in Windows is lacking as of late. Miss Pamela wrote back to me about the Bondage for Beginners class saying that it was a Saturday and not during the middle of the week as I had surmised. Apparently I adjusted for the month but didn’t go to 2005. Ooops. I ended up doing my best (worst, probably) imitation of sex advice columnist. I can only guess at how to get a guy to become open to a little kink. Part of my response – and don’t ask how I mixed this in – concerned how I got to like “Ooops! I Did It Again” by Britney Spears. Well, how I got to like the song as done by Dick Thompson. So I use it as an analogy and now I can’t get the fucking chorus out of my head!
I put on this new album by Raslton, Carwreck Conversations, and I’m enjoying it. The first song, “What Kind of Friend”, is chilling. The sparse instrumentation, his lone, mournful voice – a really great song.
What kind of friend could I become
When the heart says kill and the soul says love?
What kind of friend could I become?
What kind of friend am I?
Steveie and I did some Xmas shopping yesterday and got Becca a TiVO. *Golem voice* Precious TiVO…. Personally, I don’t foresee me using it too much other than to record all the good speeches on BookTV that they show at two o’clock in the morning on Mondays.
OK, I’ve gotta go as NetMeeting is calling my name...
Walking outside this morning, my warm breath clouded in the sharp and frosty morning. Having a smoky treat a little while ago, I just stood and watched the water vapor swirl atop Lake Monona. It was such a calm, peaceful scene that stood in contrast to all the traffic noise I heard behind me. Work is slow, as it to be expected.
Just I as proved my lack of ability with our new oven a couple days ago, I now find out that my proficiency with the calendar in Windows is lacking as of late. Miss Pamela wrote back to me about the Bondage for Beginners class saying that it was a Saturday and not during the middle of the week as I had surmised. Apparently I adjusted for the month but didn’t go to 2005. Ooops. I ended up doing my best (worst, probably) imitation of sex advice columnist. I can only guess at how to get a guy to become open to a little kink. Part of my response – and don’t ask how I mixed this in – concerned how I got to like “Ooops! I Did It Again” by Britney Spears. Well, how I got to like the song as done by Dick Thompson. So I use it as an analogy and now I can’t get the fucking chorus out of my head!
I put on this new album by Raslton, Carwreck Conversations, and I’m enjoying it. The first song, “What Kind of Friend”, is chilling. The sparse instrumentation, his lone, mournful voice – a really great song.
When the heart says kill and the soul says love?
What kind of friend could I become?
What kind of friend am I?
Steveie and I did some Xmas shopping yesterday and got Becca a TiVO. *Golem voice* Precious TiVO…. Personally, I don’t foresee me using it too much other than to record all the good speeches on BookTV that they show at two o’clock in the morning on Mondays.
OK, I’ve gotta go as NetMeeting is calling my name...
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