Sidewalk stories.
I have never been so happy to have stepped in dog shit, let me tell you.
It seemed particularly dark on my way home this evening. Though the moon was out, I didn't see many stars through the low cloud coverage. I decided to walk home, because I wanted to do some listening and thinking without dealing with public transportation. I also think I have to put money on my Chahlee Cahd and I don't want to.
As a result of the darkness, I made it a point to keep an eye on the trail/dark bushes/woodsy area/bike trail off to my right because why the hell not? I was fiddling with my ipod (yes, in spite of the fact that I think about things like looking into bushes or window refections to see if there are people around me, I still walk around at night with headphones on. I'm an idiot. I know. I'm glad we agree.) and keeping watch to my right when I placed my left foot squarely in.. something.
Unwilling to pause to examine what I may or may not have trod upon, I kept moving, scraping the bottom of my shoe against the ground at all kinds of funny angles and hoping I didn't get anything on my pants. This continued for a bit before I got to a slightly better lit part of the trail. At this point I saw there on the ground a dead bird, and recalled I had seen a few of them on this stretch of road on my way in.
Panic.
Remember that time I said I killed an ant in the kitchen and felt bad about it for a stupid amount of time afterwards? Well, I wasn't making that shit up. Today I fiddled around with a spider until I could get him on a piece of paper and relocate his ass to the little patch of green under the sign at school. I did the same with an ant, (though the jerk was carrying another ant in his mouth) and have done similar things with houseflies. The idea that I may have just set foot IN THE REMAINS OF A DEAD FUCKING BIRD really bugged me. Like a whooooole bunch.
Thankfully, though I had managed to get most of it off by limping around like an r-tard for a block or so, it was only poo.
Other adventures:
I was having the most fun with my umbrella until it flew down the sidewalk. I figured out how to spin it horizontally, like, superfast, guy, and then spin it the OTHER way additionally. NO JOKE. I got it going so fast this one time that I didn't even bother to change direction. Eventually the string broke and there it went! No one was hurt.
In fact, as I chased the thing down the road, I realized this was the second such incident I had while dicking (seriously spell check, "dicking" is clearly a word and I am totally spelling it right) around with an umbrella. The other one was when I was doing the thing where you extend it like a baton with a flick of your wrist. Apparently I'd over done this game in the past and the first time I tried it during this particular outing, the top of it shot down the sidewalk like a Churchill Downs thoroughbred.
You guys, this blog is really exciting.
***you can probably skip the next part***
This OTHER time I was out when it was raining HARD and raining HORIZONTALLY. I was trying to keep my already dog eared and useless metal pile of crap umbrella from turning inside out/impaling my eyeballs on it's spidery metal asshole tines when one bright red/half dead one came clattering down the street at me, motivated by wind and freedom. I ran to catch up with it. Forgetting my own feisty, futile mess for a moment, I grabbed the little guy and escorted him to a trash can. While doing this I realized I was being watched by an older bearded guy in a leather jacket. "Now I have two!" I told him, holding them up before shoving the red one in the bin.
He gave me a look, I went back to my stuff.
As an aside, it's hilarious to watch people fight with umbrellas. I understand this and am fine with occasionally being that person trying to reason with one while not getting hit by cars/rain/people/the umbrella and maintain composure. Try this next time while watching this dance: pretend the umbrella isn't there.
***THIRD UMBRELLA STORY ENDS NOW, you can start reading again, but it probably wont get any better***
Final sidewalk story:
I was out with my mom and my sister about a year ago while Mom was visiting over the weekend. It was still early, and I feel the need to mention we had not yet had anything to drink. We passed a bus stop on the corner of my (at the time "our") street where a few people were waiting. Almost immediately I noticed a mostly undamaged double level square shelf thing, unfinished, sitting there on the sidewalk apparently unattended. Understand that a good amount of furniture I've let into my apartment since living here has been items I've found on the sidewalk and deemed worthy of adoption. I live in Cambridge, so it's usually not much a of a stretch.
While my mother and sister continued on, I ambled up to the thing and picked it up. Within seconds a guy leapt from the line of waiting bus people and also picked it up. There we were, holding the thing between us, eyeballing each other warily. I wasn't exactly sure what was happening until he offered the following information: "That's mine."
Oh.
I have no idea why I did what I did next.
"Oh! It's beautiful!" I said, sounding probably more than a little insane. It absolutely was not beautiful, it was as boring a piece of furniture as has ever been made by human or machine in the history of furniture design, and for the next few minutes I tried so very hard to appear like I was simply taken with the objects natural charisma and HAD to find out more about it. NOT that I was about to make off with what I didn't REALIZE was someone else's stuff.
"Did you make it!?" I asked. There was no way he made it. He wasn't letting go of it, so after turning it a little and examining it from a few angles to complete the facade of my interest, I did. I stuck my hands in my pockets and made a stupid attempt at small talk, which consisted of my asking squeaky, rapid fire questions about where he got it, what it could be used for, what it was made out of and then bolting to catch up with Mom and Sis. They didn't ask why I was cackling like a lunatic when I came up behind them. I don't know how I feel about that.
This poor guy probably has a great story now, about how he was almost robbed by some crazy woman on speed.
**
Dear Trader Joes,
By the time the bananas you sell are able to be eaten, I have forgotten I have purchased one.
**
Let the insane tan-lines begin!!
Monday, May 20, 2013
Saturday, September 8, 2012
None of this makes any sense.
I spoke with Master Shifu about this show I heard about on Oprah where she gets like, someone to train a bunch of women in self defense and then has someone attack them on the street within a certain amount of time of the workshop. Most of the women didn't leave their house in sick anticipation of the attack. I was thinking how awesome it would be to be able to enlist that sort of scenario for a very high level test (in martial arts, duh) because that is, like, the best way to find out of this stuff works, right? He came back with, more or less: "Do you have any idea how much of a liability that would be? I mean, think about it." Then I thought about it. And, yes. Liability. Sure. Dread Pirate would wreck. Among others.
I guess it's a pretty great sign when you consider much of your student body and realize that they'd annihilate anyone who were to attack them on the street.
Qualifier: If you're a Kung Fu teacher, this is great.
I guess any kind of teacher would do, though.
I went to the beach a while ago and got pretty excellently sunburnt. Seriously. I spent a few weeks applying industrial amount of moisturizer and burn relief lotions, gazing warily at Yellow Face from behind drawn shades. Itching.
Also, when I went to the beach, I found out that I really enjoy the ocean. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out giant waves and getting dragged across the sea bottom. But I'm fine with that, because you never realize how much you love breathing until you can't. People seem too have this idea that they are in control of the universe (I just typed "unoverse".. the same??) but hey, guess what? you're not!!
If I ever were to celebrate the masturbatory fame of a biopic it would be called "Ma Fleur" and would be scored by The Cinematic Orchestra using the record of that name.
Went dancing with Excellent Friend Who I Don't Have A Name For Yet a little bit ago. I, uh, enjoy dancing. I think it's fun and I have a good time doing it. I fucking (excuse me) LOVE music, so.. it's basically the best.
People talk to me when I go out- people who I don't know. This last time, after a bunch of muddled noise and misunderstanding I figured out that this girl was telling me that I was the "most adorable thing she'd ever seen." Instead of asking if she had grown up in a box, I said "Thanks!"
Later, she rubbed her butt on me.
Naturally, if people think I'm above average in anything, particularly looks or charisma, I think there's something wrong with them. This is something I should have identified with my therapist, yes?
In other news:
When someone really cares about you and you tell them, or even behave in such a way that tells them you don't love them, or don't care about them, they act as though they have been stabbed. Would you ever actually stab someone? No? Okay. Then fucking behave yourself. Because Jesus.
.
I guess it's a pretty great sign when you consider much of your student body and realize that they'd annihilate anyone who were to attack them on the street.
Qualifier: If you're a Kung Fu teacher, this is great.
I guess any kind of teacher would do, though.
I went to the beach a while ago and got pretty excellently sunburnt. Seriously. I spent a few weeks applying industrial amount of moisturizer and burn relief lotions, gazing warily at Yellow Face from behind drawn shades. Itching.
Also, when I went to the beach, I found out that I really enjoy the ocean. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out giant waves and getting dragged across the sea bottom. But I'm fine with that, because you never realize how much you love breathing until you can't. People seem too have this idea that they are in control of the universe (I just typed "unoverse".. the same??) but hey, guess what? you're not!!
If I ever were to celebrate the masturbatory fame of a biopic it would be called "Ma Fleur" and would be scored by The Cinematic Orchestra using the record of that name.
Went dancing with Excellent Friend Who I Don't Have A Name For Yet a little bit ago. I, uh, enjoy dancing. I think it's fun and I have a good time doing it. I fucking (excuse me) LOVE music, so.. it's basically the best.
People talk to me when I go out- people who I don't know. This last time, after a bunch of muddled noise and misunderstanding I figured out that this girl was telling me that I was the "most adorable thing she'd ever seen." Instead of asking if she had grown up in a box, I said "Thanks!"
Later, she rubbed her butt on me.
Naturally, if people think I'm above average in anything, particularly looks or charisma, I think there's something wrong with them. This is something I should have identified with my therapist, yes?
In other news:
When someone really cares about you and you tell them, or even behave in such a way that tells them you don't love them, or don't care about them, they act as though they have been stabbed. Would you ever actually stab someone? No? Okay. Then fucking behave yourself. Because Jesus.
.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Why I Don't Teach Kids About Anything Other Than Kung Fu.
While looking through Netflix watchnow options, my brain just said this to me:
"Want dumb action flick. Don't want to feel too obligated to finish. Wait. Don't I have Road House? I have Road House! Thank. Fucking. God. I have Road House....!"
My brain also held a seminar on relationships and love on my way home yesterday. The seminar was given to a bunch of children.
"Okay, sit down, there's fine. Okay. Sit. Sit there. Yeap, right there's fine. Sit. Sit sit sit sit sit sit good jooooooooob! Okay, yeah you're fine there, and you're fine there, awesome. Nice work.
"Okay!
"So this talk is on relationships and how they sort of work, but will probably deteriorate into something totally different by the end. Everyone here has friends, right? You have family, some brothers or sisters, yeah. Good. Everyone here knows someone else to some level, right? Has anyone here ever been in love? You? You love your mom? Awesome, I bet she's great. Now, how do you feel when she's away from you for a long time? Not so good right? Yeah, you miss her when you go to school or she goes on a trip or something, I know. It sucks.
"When you love someone it's easy to miss them, right? It feels funny when they're gone, like somethings not..
"Oh wait! Who said that? You! What was that?
"Yes! It's like a part of you is missing. The idea's a little.. intense, I know- but who here agrees? Raise your hand, no need to speak up. Oh great, everyone here knows what it's like to miss someone you love. Like really miss someone- someone who's on a trip, or moved away. Does anyone know someone close to them who's died? Go ahead and raise your hand if you want..
"Okay, wow. So, uh, you miss them, right? Because they've gone somewhere you can't go, or you feel like you can't be close to them anymore because you can't see them. When someone leaves you though, really leaves you- who has died, or just, moved away, or disappears or whatever, it's different than say, mom going to the grocery store, or you going to school, right? Because in the past they have always come back, right?
"So what happens when they don't come back? Or they can't? Sure you miss them, but it really is like what we said before, like- some part of you isn't there.
"Why is that? I don't know.
"..
"Uh.. okay, so think of all the people you know, some of them are close to you, some of them aren't. Now think about that literally- place all the people you know around you, some close and some far away. I'm not talking about where they are in reality- like in the world. More like where they are in relation to, I don't know- your heart.
"Some people are close to you, right? Close to your heart. Close enough to really see you, really look right in your eyes and be right there with you.
"Lets pretend for a moment that all these people- your network of people you know, are all separated by poles of various sizes and lengths, but these poles are quite large at their base, where they begin at the individual. And lets pretend that whenever someone gets closer to you the tip of that pole penetrates an outer layer- then penetrates further as they get closer.
"Who here has like, a super-awesome-best friend? You? Okay! Cool. You guys hang out a lot? Yeah? You understand them, and you feel like when you're together you act as a unit? Like you're in it together and they look out for you and you look out for them. Like you share so much, so deeply that it's so simple to be a part of them, because they are right there with you, and you with them. It's totally amazing, right? You think about them a lot, and you are petty happy when you know that they are doing well. Even if you aren't with them physically, it's still alright if you know that they are alright.
"Some people are close like that, like parents who are very close to their children, close siblings, best friends, twins, or those lucky few who share a bond deeper than blood- the kind of bond made of lifetimes, stars, and many esoteric ideas.
"Those people are like, super-close. From where you are you can see the pores of their skin, each hair on their head. The pole which separates you isn't visible anymore, you are at their base. You see them and they see you. Anyone here know what that's like? Yeah? You have a twin? Awesome, that must be very special- don't lose track of them! Ha.
"Obviously in this scenario these arrangements can change, people come closer and get further away and time carries people to and from you, naturally, right? But mostly these people, they stay right there with you, moving a bit sometimes, but mostly keeping nearby.
"So, what happens when these people leave? When they die? If something happens to them? To you? When they just go away-- when they pull back so far you can't see them anymore?
"Uh.. well..
"It leaves a hole in you I guess. A big hole. So.. maybe that's why you feel like something's missing when they're gone. Like when they've really left and aren't coming back.
"But I guess something that's really important to remember is that even though they're gone, you are still able to share something very special. Because it leaves a hole in them, too."
"Want dumb action flick. Don't want to feel too obligated to finish. Wait. Don't I have Road House? I have Road House! Thank. Fucking. God. I have Road House....!"
My brain also held a seminar on relationships and love on my way home yesterday. The seminar was given to a bunch of children.
"Okay, sit down, there's fine. Okay. Sit. Sit there. Yeap, right there's fine. Sit. Sit sit sit sit sit sit good jooooooooob! Okay, yeah you're fine there, and you're fine there, awesome. Nice work.
"Okay!
"So this talk is on relationships and how they sort of work, but will probably deteriorate into something totally different by the end. Everyone here has friends, right? You have family, some brothers or sisters, yeah. Good. Everyone here knows someone else to some level, right? Has anyone here ever been in love? You? You love your mom? Awesome, I bet she's great. Now, how do you feel when she's away from you for a long time? Not so good right? Yeah, you miss her when you go to school or she goes on a trip or something, I know. It sucks.
"When you love someone it's easy to miss them, right? It feels funny when they're gone, like somethings not..
"Oh wait! Who said that? You! What was that?
"Yes! It's like a part of you is missing. The idea's a little.. intense, I know- but who here agrees? Raise your hand, no need to speak up. Oh great, everyone here knows what it's like to miss someone you love. Like really miss someone- someone who's on a trip, or moved away. Does anyone know someone close to them who's died? Go ahead and raise your hand if you want..
"Okay, wow. So, uh, you miss them, right? Because they've gone somewhere you can't go, or you feel like you can't be close to them anymore because you can't see them. When someone leaves you though, really leaves you- who has died, or just, moved away, or disappears or whatever, it's different than say, mom going to the grocery store, or you going to school, right? Because in the past they have always come back, right?
"So what happens when they don't come back? Or they can't? Sure you miss them, but it really is like what we said before, like- some part of you isn't there.
"Why is that? I don't know.
"..
"Uh.. okay, so think of all the people you know, some of them are close to you, some of them aren't. Now think about that literally- place all the people you know around you, some close and some far away. I'm not talking about where they are in reality- like in the world. More like where they are in relation to, I don't know- your heart.
"Some people are close to you, right? Close to your heart. Close enough to really see you, really look right in your eyes and be right there with you.
"Lets pretend for a moment that all these people- your network of people you know, are all separated by poles of various sizes and lengths, but these poles are quite large at their base, where they begin at the individual. And lets pretend that whenever someone gets closer to you the tip of that pole penetrates an outer layer- then penetrates further as they get closer.
"Who here has like, a super-awesome-best friend? You? Okay! Cool. You guys hang out a lot? Yeah? You understand them, and you feel like when you're together you act as a unit? Like you're in it together and they look out for you and you look out for them. Like you share so much, so deeply that it's so simple to be a part of them, because they are right there with you, and you with them. It's totally amazing, right? You think about them a lot, and you are petty happy when you know that they are doing well. Even if you aren't with them physically, it's still alright if you know that they are alright.
"Some people are close like that, like parents who are very close to their children, close siblings, best friends, twins, or those lucky few who share a bond deeper than blood- the kind of bond made of lifetimes, stars, and many esoteric ideas.
"Those people are like, super-close. From where you are you can see the pores of their skin, each hair on their head. The pole which separates you isn't visible anymore, you are at their base. You see them and they see you. Anyone here know what that's like? Yeah? You have a twin? Awesome, that must be very special- don't lose track of them! Ha.
"Obviously in this scenario these arrangements can change, people come closer and get further away and time carries people to and from you, naturally, right? But mostly these people, they stay right there with you, moving a bit sometimes, but mostly keeping nearby.
"So, what happens when these people leave? When they die? If something happens to them? To you? When they just go away-- when they pull back so far you can't see them anymore?
"Uh.. well..
"It leaves a hole in you I guess. A big hole. So.. maybe that's why you feel like something's missing when they're gone. Like when they've really left and aren't coming back.
"But I guess something that's really important to remember is that even though they're gone, you are still able to share something very special. Because it leaves a hole in them, too."
Thursday, July 19, 2012
I bet you think this blog is about you.. don't you..
I've been watching a frightening amount of peep show. Though after reading reviews of the show apparently that's normal. If you decide to start to watch it be warned: You will watch frightening amounts of it.
My mission:impossible game isn't any better in the summertime, by the way- I'm sure you were wondering when I was going to get back to you on that. Honestly I haven't been really looking- and I think the people on the Cambridge public transit aren't that interesting.
I suspect if I was still in Portland there would be plenty of people mission:impossibling their way around town. Once I saw very round ecstatic man pushing a wheelchair down St John's street. He was wearing what looked like a wrestling cape and a cowboy hat. I think he'd encountered a pot hole in the sidewalk just as I discovered him, which may have been why his walk appeared so jaunty. There was a big trash bag sitting in the wheelchair, full. If that isn't deserving of a mission:impossible theme I don't know what is.
I was in a car at the time, the person driving also saw him. He was real.
I encountered someone on the MBTA a few days ago- interacted with them. "Met" isn't really the right word. We interacted.
I had just made myself unique among the commuters, you see, and when you do things like this apparently it makes you more approachable.. just sos you know.
Here's how I did it:
It's no secret among those who practice "small talk" that it's been science-fiction hot out (I stole that term, but I don't remember from where) over the last four or five days. When I'd made my way into the stone-and-mold guts of the subway I found a woman sitting hunched over on one of the benches. I thought she was a yoga-person stretching out or something. She wasn't.
I didn't know what was wrong with her, but I figured the right thing to do was to try to find out and maybe be of some use. I couldn't get any information from her directly as she wasn't awake/conscious but looked deceptively well put together for someone passed out in the train station. I asked her a few times if she was alright, soft then loud, if she needed some water etc..When she finally unfolded herself, it was to sway and mumble that she was fine.
I know what alcohol looks like, what a few other drugs look like.. sort of what going-to-pass-out looks like.. I don't actually know what about-to-cry looks like.. her face was a kind of shifting mosaic of a number of these things. Among others, I'm sure.
I looked up and saw a bunch of people trying not to look at what was going on. I grilled an older gentleman for a bit to see if I could get him to get some water or someone more authorized to deal with this lady. He was nice enough to point towards the office where I could find such authorized types.
Cool.
So I got up and went over to find a T-person to help the lady out. Found about five of them hanging out in their little air conditioned box. When I began to tell them about the lady they all had a good laugh and sent one of their number out with me. He took his damned time getting out of his chair, strolled along behind me saying something about the woman having been there for a while etc.. swaggering, knees bowing in between veed-out feet and flopping arms, leaning back to accommodate a lifetime of empty calories and inactivity.
Fear not, fair Maiden! For I have journeyed a-far and returned hence with the finest the Commonwealth has to offer! Hip Hip!
He proceeded to dismiss me from my post as the woman's watcher, and went full bore into his rescue plan.. which, as far as I could tell, consisted of hassling the lady about when she was going to leave and reminding her that she'd been there for a few hours. I started to feel bad about not just getting her some water myself.
Here's where my helping this lady out made me more approachable:
I went back to waiting for the train which is when I became engaged in conversation with a guy who said he'd been watching the whole thing but, you know, more from, like, a social experiment point of view, because, you know, no one was doing anything, and it was, like, interesting to see how long that was going to go on. He asked me if I'd missed a train trying to help her. I hadn't, but I said I wouldn't have minded if I had. Because Jesus.
I didn't try very hard to hide my disgust. I think he was trying to seem interesting- some how above it all. We had a brief conversation during which I didn't actually say that he's part of the problem- this whole epidemic of people thinking someone else will take care of things. Not out loud anyway. I sat across from him on the train and we had broken conversation about homeless people and how they are often misdiagnosed as drunk instead of having a diabetic.. reaction or something. He did most of the talking.. I asked if he was in medicine.. he said his parents were but he'd messed himself up enough to know these things.
I indirectly watched him pull a tomato out of his bag and eat it like an apple.
Then I went home.
You know what isn't fun? Getting food poisoning on a plane.
Dear People in the Airport Bathroom Who Commented on the Noise of my Prolonged Vomiting,
Sorry for the inconvenience.
Did anyone else Aldoux Huxley on the 10th? Is that something that happens? Something people do?
My mission:impossible game isn't any better in the summertime, by the way- I'm sure you were wondering when I was going to get back to you on that. Honestly I haven't been really looking- and I think the people on the Cambridge public transit aren't that interesting.
I suspect if I was still in Portland there would be plenty of people mission:impossibling their way around town. Once I saw very round ecstatic man pushing a wheelchair down St John's street. He was wearing what looked like a wrestling cape and a cowboy hat. I think he'd encountered a pot hole in the sidewalk just as I discovered him, which may have been why his walk appeared so jaunty. There was a big trash bag sitting in the wheelchair, full. If that isn't deserving of a mission:impossible theme I don't know what is.
I was in a car at the time, the person driving also saw him. He was real.
I encountered someone on the MBTA a few days ago- interacted with them. "Met" isn't really the right word. We interacted.
I had just made myself unique among the commuters, you see, and when you do things like this apparently it makes you more approachable.. just sos you know.
Here's how I did it:
It's no secret among those who practice "small talk" that it's been science-fiction hot out (I stole that term, but I don't remember from where) over the last four or five days. When I'd made my way into the stone-and-mold guts of the subway I found a woman sitting hunched over on one of the benches. I thought she was a yoga-person stretching out or something. She wasn't.
I didn't know what was wrong with her, but I figured the right thing to do was to try to find out and maybe be of some use. I couldn't get any information from her directly as she wasn't awake/conscious but looked deceptively well put together for someone passed out in the train station. I asked her a few times if she was alright, soft then loud, if she needed some water etc..When she finally unfolded herself, it was to sway and mumble that she was fine.
I know what alcohol looks like, what a few other drugs look like.. sort of what going-to-pass-out looks like.. I don't actually know what about-to-cry looks like.. her face was a kind of shifting mosaic of a number of these things. Among others, I'm sure.
I looked up and saw a bunch of people trying not to look at what was going on. I grilled an older gentleman for a bit to see if I could get him to get some water or someone more authorized to deal with this lady. He was nice enough to point towards the office where I could find such authorized types.
Cool.
So I got up and went over to find a T-person to help the lady out. Found about five of them hanging out in their little air conditioned box. When I began to tell them about the lady they all had a good laugh and sent one of their number out with me. He took his damned time getting out of his chair, strolled along behind me saying something about the woman having been there for a while etc.. swaggering, knees bowing in between veed-out feet and flopping arms, leaning back to accommodate a lifetime of empty calories and inactivity.
Fear not, fair Maiden! For I have journeyed a-far and returned hence with the finest the Commonwealth has to offer! Hip Hip!
He proceeded to dismiss me from my post as the woman's watcher, and went full bore into his rescue plan.. which, as far as I could tell, consisted of hassling the lady about when she was going to leave and reminding her that she'd been there for a few hours. I started to feel bad about not just getting her some water myself.
Here's where my helping this lady out made me more approachable:
I went back to waiting for the train which is when I became engaged in conversation with a guy who said he'd been watching the whole thing but, you know, more from, like, a social experiment point of view, because, you know, no one was doing anything, and it was, like, interesting to see how long that was going to go on. He asked me if I'd missed a train trying to help her. I hadn't, but I said I wouldn't have minded if I had. Because Jesus.
I didn't try very hard to hide my disgust. I think he was trying to seem interesting- some how above it all. We had a brief conversation during which I didn't actually say that he's part of the problem- this whole epidemic of people thinking someone else will take care of things. Not out loud anyway. I sat across from him on the train and we had broken conversation about homeless people and how they are often misdiagnosed as drunk instead of having a diabetic.. reaction or something. He did most of the talking.. I asked if he was in medicine.. he said his parents were but he'd messed himself up enough to know these things.
I indirectly watched him pull a tomato out of his bag and eat it like an apple.
Then I went home.
You know what isn't fun? Getting food poisoning on a plane.
Dear People in the Airport Bathroom Who Commented on the Noise of my Prolonged Vomiting,
Sorry for the inconvenience.
Did anyone else Aldoux Huxley on the 10th? Is that something that happens? Something people do?
Friday, March 2, 2012
Talking: The Final Frontier.
I recently broke down and ordered a cheap mp3 player off the internet. It works fine, but it doesn't speak English so we don't really get along yet. It also doesn't appear to have any kind of brand, though I have come to know it as a "music stick". Unable to contact the maker directly to fix the problem, I found a site which sold the same item and e-mailed their support network to see if they could help me out. They asked me for my order number. I said I didn't have one because I hadn't bought the item from them directly but if they knew how to fix it could they please.. just.. tell.. me.. !!!
They wouldn't.
So I fished around in my mail box and found the site I got the thing from and mailed them my question.
When asked the appropriate key stroke sequence to change the language from Chinese to English I was sent two e-mails. The first one said they didn't have an answer yet but they would get one to me the following day.
How nice.
The second one was a shitty picture of the crap instructions that came with the item as well as this charming note:
Dear Lindsay,
Greeting from (place) support center.
Here is a easy diagrammatize attached at the bottom. Hope it can help you a lot. Any information that you may require, we shall be very pleased to forward to you.
Best regards!
K
My response.. almost:
Hi K,
Thank you for your note.
You see, I already received that very diagram in the package with the mp3 player music stick. You may notice that the layout of the actual keys on the stick and this diagram don't look anything alike, though in spite of this I believe I have figured out the basics of how to navigate the item. However, what I haven't figured out in the last few days is how to read Chinese, which is the language the player is using to communicate large pieces of information to me.
You may recall that this large piece of information was in my first note to you.
The song titles are in English. What it chooses to do with the songs, which order it will play them in, if it will play music at all or even if it decides to play the radio, this is all in Chinese. I have always meant to learn Chinese, though at this time all I can do is say "I don't know how to speak Chinese" and "where is the bathroom?" I can also say the word for "airplane, and "chicken." And I can count to ten. It is a beautiful language, but I can't speak it.
What I am looking for from you is a play by play of how many times I have to hit menu, enter, or next from when I turn it on in order to change the language setting to English.
Thank you,
Lindsay
I had this note fully constructed before I realized it probably wasn't the nicest thing to send. I'm actually kind of a jerk, turns out.
If I cannot pin down a Chinese speaking/reading friend in the next few days I might forward this on to friend-K.
Minus the first few paragraphs.
Maybe.
They wouldn't.
So I fished around in my mail box and found the site I got the thing from and mailed them my question.
When asked the appropriate key stroke sequence to change the language from Chinese to English I was sent two e-mails. The first one said they didn't have an answer yet but they would get one to me the following day.
How nice.
The second one was a shitty picture of the crap instructions that came with the item as well as this charming note:
Dear Lindsay,
Greeting from (place) support center.
Here is a easy diagrammatize attached at the bottom. Hope it can help you a lot. Any information that you may require, we shall be very pleased to forward to you.
Best regards!
K
My response.. almost:
Hi K,
Thank you for your note.
You see, I already received that very diagram in the package with the mp3 player music stick. You may notice that the layout of the actual keys on the stick and this diagram don't look anything alike, though in spite of this I believe I have figured out the basics of how to navigate the item. However, what I haven't figured out in the last few days is how to read Chinese, which is the language the player is using to communicate large pieces of information to me.
You may recall that this large piece of information was in my first note to you.
The song titles are in English. What it chooses to do with the songs, which order it will play them in, if it will play music at all or even if it decides to play the radio, this is all in Chinese. I have always meant to learn Chinese, though at this time all I can do is say "I don't know how to speak Chinese" and "where is the bathroom?" I can also say the word for "airplane, and "chicken." And I can count to ten. It is a beautiful language, but I can't speak it.
What I am looking for from you is a play by play of how many times I have to hit menu, enter, or next from when I turn it on in order to change the language setting to English.
Thank you,
Lindsay
I had this note fully constructed before I realized it probably wasn't the nicest thing to send. I'm actually kind of a jerk, turns out.
If I cannot pin down a Chinese speaking/reading friend in the next few days I might forward this on to friend-K.
Minus the first few paragraphs.
Maybe.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
These are apparently the days of miracle and wonder.
Though maybe only from a certain point of view.
There are few things I would like to have re-engineered in my life.
Here are some of them:
I would like to erase all memories of the surprising parts about the Star Wars movies from the seventies/eighties era.
I would like to have been there watching The Wizard of Oz when it went Technicolor for the first time with no previous assumption that color in movies was even possible.
I would have liked to have been a person sitting in on the unveiled recording of Rolling in the Deep.
I would have liked to have been present at Beethoven's fifth symphony.. and others.
I would have like to have seen Santana's Soul Sacrifice live at Woodstock.
..or been present for certain parts of Stop Making Sense.. or any number of live encounters of certain songs.. the first performance of Twist and Shout for example..
The important part would be not having the socio/psychological baggage which tells me that these things are good. I would want to be surprised. I would want to be told by some deep well of intuition that these noises are truly able to wind their fingers around my heart and squeeze gently.
I guess there are only a few places in a lifetime that create enough openness and respect for complete awe.
I've been in the presence of greatness. I've shaken hands with it, told jokes to it, grown up with some of it, may never meet other parts of it. So many things are great. So many people.
I've wept in the presence of greatness. I'm not going to tell you what it was. You will poke fun at me when next we meet. It was nothing so noble as falling to my knees in tears at the feet of the David, no, no.
I thought the thing was great at the time. I do not think the thing is great anymore. See how cool I am now?
I had a milder experience at A Silver Mt. Zion show. I'll never forget it. (See??)
I have a friend (I probably have a few with this quality, but I am thinking of one in particular now) who sees these wonderful things maybe more frequently than others.
There is a scene in Wall-E involving a fire extinguisher which is particularly beautiful. I saw the movie in the theater with him and I recall seeing him wipe tears from his eyes during this event. I think of him whenever I watch that clip, and sometimes I feel like I see what he saw. I live this idea through him though, it isn't mine.
Similarly, these ideas that are mine aren't yours.
Duh.
You may not actually catch your breath during some piece of music, or find it necessary to breath very slowly, deeply and carefully at "the scars of your love, they leave me breathless."
But you could, and that's the important part.
The warm surprise of wonder comes to everyone at some point. I refuse to believe there are people who don't experience this sort of thing. This mainly because I think the reason these things happen is because everyone experiences them. Does that make sense?
Fine.
A friend asked me if I'd found myself to be more sensitive lately, in regards to things you feel rather than see or hear. I told her I probably haven't been paying attention. I also havn't been listening to much good music lately on the level I would like.
This whole line of thinking is all probably coming from the fact that I just got a pair of good headphones and a (free!!) mp3 player to replace KaZaK. When I first plugged the puppy in, did I listen to the 5th? The 7th? Other "great" things? Bolero?
Nope. No cigar.
The first song I played?
Rhythm Nation.
Yup.
There are few things I would like to have re-engineered in my life.
Here are some of them:
I would like to erase all memories of the surprising parts about the Star Wars movies from the seventies/eighties era.
I would like to have been there watching The Wizard of Oz when it went Technicolor for the first time with no previous assumption that color in movies was even possible.
I would have liked to have been a person sitting in on the unveiled recording of Rolling in the Deep.
I would have liked to have been present at Beethoven's fifth symphony.. and others.
I would have like to have seen Santana's Soul Sacrifice live at Woodstock.
..or been present for certain parts of Stop Making Sense.. or any number of live encounters of certain songs.. the first performance of Twist and Shout for example..
The important part would be not having the socio/psychological baggage which tells me that these things are good. I would want to be surprised. I would want to be told by some deep well of intuition that these noises are truly able to wind their fingers around my heart and squeeze gently.
I guess there are only a few places in a lifetime that create enough openness and respect for complete awe.
I've been in the presence of greatness. I've shaken hands with it, told jokes to it, grown up with some of it, may never meet other parts of it. So many things are great. So many people.
I've wept in the presence of greatness. I'm not going to tell you what it was. You will poke fun at me when next we meet. It was nothing so noble as falling to my knees in tears at the feet of the David, no, no.
I thought the thing was great at the time. I do not think the thing is great anymore. See how cool I am now?
I had a milder experience at A Silver Mt. Zion show. I'll never forget it. (See??)
I have a friend (I probably have a few with this quality, but I am thinking of one in particular now) who sees these wonderful things maybe more frequently than others.
There is a scene in Wall-E involving a fire extinguisher which is particularly beautiful. I saw the movie in the theater with him and I recall seeing him wipe tears from his eyes during this event. I think of him whenever I watch that clip, and sometimes I feel like I see what he saw. I live this idea through him though, it isn't mine.
Similarly, these ideas that are mine aren't yours.
Duh.
You may not actually catch your breath during some piece of music, or find it necessary to breath very slowly, deeply and carefully at "the scars of your love, they leave me breathless."
But you could, and that's the important part.
The warm surprise of wonder comes to everyone at some point. I refuse to believe there are people who don't experience this sort of thing. This mainly because I think the reason these things happen is because everyone experiences them. Does that make sense?
Fine.
A friend asked me if I'd found myself to be more sensitive lately, in regards to things you feel rather than see or hear. I told her I probably haven't been paying attention. I also havn't been listening to much good music lately on the level I would like.
This whole line of thinking is all probably coming from the fact that I just got a pair of good headphones and a (free!!) mp3 player to replace KaZaK. When I first plugged the puppy in, did I listen to the 5th? The 7th? Other "great" things? Bolero?
Nope. No cigar.
The first song I played?
Rhythm Nation.
Yup.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
and we all shine on.
There will always be this: it will be the middle of the night when I can't sleep- and for some reason I MUST find out why Marilyn Manson gained so much weight in 2009.
I'm fairly optimistic sometimes. It's foolish.
I've been thinking a lot about John Lennon lately. Sensitive.
J visits and tells me I'm distant- it usually takes me a good 20-24 hours to get used to having him around when it's been so long between visits. Work, meeting, work. We get a few hours together anyway.. toss the baseball back and forth. Talk. Sit. Lean. Sigh.
I've been thinking a lot about knees lately.
Memory:
Bolero.
.
I'm fairly optimistic sometimes. It's foolish.
I've been thinking a lot about John Lennon lately. Sensitive.
J visits and tells me I'm distant- it usually takes me a good 20-24 hours to get used to having him around when it's been so long between visits. Work, meeting, work. We get a few hours together anyway.. toss the baseball back and forth. Talk. Sit. Lean. Sigh.
I've been thinking a lot about knees lately.
Memory:
Bolero.
.
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