New Decor

I don't know why the bamboo blinds would smell like mustard.

Large Gaps

Of all the emotions that can overwhelm when planning a funeral, it was most upsetting to learn that there were entire decades that the deceased went unphotographed.

She's Not There

Let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she acts and the color of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright

But not anymore.

Age of Consent

I always wanted to be the guy in the slate E-Class who surprised the surrounding traffic by having New Order playing from the speakers.

Just Another Sunday

Rough on the esteeem. Anonymous and glanced over all day. There was a record set for conversations interupted by others who didn't care whatsoever that I was there. When there was a task, though; then I was popular.

Not What I Had in Mind

The exam for composition class had a twist. It wasn't about writing, ironically. The professor thought it was a good idea to make a point about the importance of listening. He read a passage about a 19th century ball held in a northern city to celebrate the completion of a common green. The exam, it turns out, was to recreated the type of dancing described in the essay. Not what I had in mind when I paid tuition.


Knowing that the city can clear one's head, I sought out the proverbial nice cup of tea. There was a Starbucks right there so I took a shot. In line, I sorted the unfamiliar lurce in my wallet. Somehow, inexplicably, this was interpreted as an offer to pay for the items being purchased by the person ahead of me. There were terse words and everyone was frowning at me.

This was not how I imagined living as a student in London. Not at all.

The Morning Meeting

The first thing I realized is that I'd been fortunate, so far, to avoid the worst type of person in a corporate environment; the person with the One Job. Different from the multi-taskers and multiple hat-wearers I'm used to, this is the person who's job is the equivalent of planning an annual New Year's Eve party.

The second thing I realized is how insufferable these people can be on January 2nd.

Me and My Shadow

Washing Off the McMurray Dirt

It's a very fine dirt, coming, quite unintentionally, in both infield and outfield tints. It makes feature film-quality dust clouds as well as the fabled Fuller's Earth. Ever step, every bounce, every bat dropped on the way to first adds to the hazy orange fog. McMurray Dirt is like river silt, but I don't now how it might have made its way from the river.

The season wrapped up tonight in the hot July sun. We lost to one of those bar teams that often seem to string together enough hits to get it done. Always tough to lose in front of the women folk. Now, after the handshakes and the cans of beer, it's time to wash of the last twelve games.

It's still steamy after sundown and that makes it as a tough choice to go hotter or cooler in the shower. The cool water feels better and revives, but the hotter water opens more pores and releases that dusty dirt. No matter how much action you saw, the dirt got you.

It's necessary to take extra time in the shower. It's really all gotta come off. Leave to soap on a bit longer, enjoy that one more beer brought into the shower and finally rinse the whole thing away, inside and out.

Contentment in the Modern World

There was a time that man strove for his crops to grow. To cross the plains. To get out of that foxhole in France.

Man has sought to end war. To cure disease. To raise himself up.

Today, my profound sense of accomplishment and relief comes from successfully navigating the convoluded, non-intuitive menu structure of the Denon 2807 and getting the kitchen speakers activeted in time to do the dishes.

And to sound awesome for the mrs. in time for Rattle & Hum.

Blind Spot

You have to enter this with a certain type of disdain. That's one of the keys for surviving this episode, an episode that will play and replay for as long as you are who you are. It's a shame that the situation beats you back into considering survival first. That really crushes a lot of the fun. Fun was the reason you got into this in the first place, right?

So presume the worst initially, for it will help you arrive intact. Anything that allows you to presume anything other than the worst turns down the flame but won't ever make it cool to the touch.

When I Came Around the Corner . . .

. . . Bob Dylan was feeding the elephant.

Cool, Overcast, Rain Likely

Even though it was the weekend, I stayed indoors for the most part.

The Lost Art of Burrito Wrapping

All praise due for the tortilla artist. To be able to take all that good stuff and contain it in such a thin membrane is an undervalued artistic talent. To hold the burrito in one hand, allowing you to mouse with the other, and not have it fall apart or leak down you arm - that, my friend, is living.

On the Volcano's Wall

When the shadow of the grasshopper falls across the trial of the field mouse on green and slimy grass as a red sun rises above the western horizon silhouetting a gaunt and tautly muscled Indian warrior perched with bow and arrow locked and aimed straight at you it's time for another martini.

Sign of My Times

Charming stranger enters the room not at any one's
Insistence but from the suggestion of one deemed
Trustworthy and credible.

Alone sometimes and other times surrounded there
Lingers fear and uncertainty about which courses
Of action are right and which ones lead down a
Pathway you said you'd travel so long as you had your mind.

Risk averse and easy to please I'm find myself
Accompanied when I leave home guarded against the
Modern times and all their splendor.

Poor Timing

TNT runs Cast Away the day I put her on a plane.

Holy Widor!

Toccata in F Major, it's not your everyday Postlude

They Tell Me it Was 50 Today

I tell them that it arrived in time to avert disaster.

Unable to Illustrate

The car club took a road trip to a bridge. This bridge spanned two halves of a town, crossing a narrow but deep and turbulent part of the river between two rock-cliff shores. The span was not long but was so important to the people on either side, they had been perpetually improving and 'fancy-ing' it up for well over 100 years.

The traffic span above was an overbuilt, boxed girder design hanging just above the churn of the river. The mostly-submerged pedestrian span was still the original wood structure. Built entirely on land, then lowered into the river beneath the traffic lanes, it's still never leaked; the wood being partially preserved by the cold water.

The lower pedestrian crossing was more that just a walkway, it included a museum dedicated to the efforts to build the bridge and unite the region. The interior lacquer was still shiny and the wood details were still tight, even around the windows. The whole thing creaked a bit but in a charming way as opposed to a scary way. It was like being in the lower decks of a large wooden sailing ship.

In the middle of the submerged wooden span, the passageway opened to a wide column that extended down nearly to the river bed. In that space was a multi-level, vertical structure that rotated slowly, powered by the river's current. Visitors descended the four levels of the drum-like structure via a staircase that wrapped around the outside. Once inside, random flights of stairs between exhibits returned people back to the top level. This rotating drum housed most of the exhibits and, for all the engineering and construction achievement, the single most impressive (and quite unexplainable) feature was the lowest level. This section was filled with body-temperature water that was breathable by humans but did not restrict movement. Being submerged was much like being bathed in a warm light, yet is was liquid floor to ceiling. By the time you climbed the back to the top, you were dry.

At first, the layout was very confusing but, after realizing I had left a personal item in a lower level, I was able to find my way around like I'd been there before. All through the various sections, there were all manner of visitors. Some people were just going through the motions like it was their 15th visit to Mount Rushmore. Others were lingering and having longer discussions, treating it like it was a community center. There were people there from other nations and some of them physically succumbed to the experience. Something about the experience hit them in an adverse way.

I wasn't even looking for a car club that day. The car I was driving wasn't mine as it was somewhat ratty around the edges. In spite of the off-chance of how it unfolded, now I can't wait for the chance to get back to the bridge.

How'd I Get to Now?

What if I was on that bridge? What if I didn't make it out of the Cannon River?

What if the Summer of Love was in 1965 or 1970 instead of 1967? What if Johnson hadn't escalated the war? What if the Nazis hadn't overrun Poland in 1939?

What if Ferdinand hadn't made it on that boat out of Liverpool?

What are the chances that I'm here now?

Ask the Man from Ulm

The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.

Albert Einstein

A Takeaway From Jack's Recommendation

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man."

George Bernard Shaw

SRSLY

Hunkered Down

Minus 10, minus 20. It's not without precedent, but you've got to be wary. Layers, hydration; all important. It's tough, but we do it, because we've actually got it good compared to the day you could be having.

Pillows for the Brain

Every pile of gray matter needs an occasional vacation from all the din of life.

Me Too

via PostSecret