on the eve of world's end

a year ago today, I was in NY having a blast. now, having just returned from a wonderful week's stay there, I'm glad to be home for New Year's—just my baby & I.

so, I lied; so, sue me.

despite my post from last year, I flew Delta again. I think our pilot was Bette Davis from All About Eve: "fasten your seat belts; it's gonna be a bumpy night."

may I recommend...?

I just discovered that besides a good western, political thriller, or documentary, my favorite type of movie is the "quiet film." do you know The Station Agent?

...and this would be stage...?

still, we leave the water dripping in the bathroom sink; open the front door slowly when we get home from work; think we see him out of the corners of our eyes.

an intellectual review (or something)

a friend drunk-dialed me from New York tonight and mentioned that he loved my novelette and found parts of it "fascinating." I guess I should be okay with that.

December

recent TV ads have ruined Carol of the Bells for me—and, like, forever. I used to dig that tune—particularly, George Winston’s version, from his album December.

anniversary

a year ago today, I began a daily, 160-character, content-of-substance-&-import blog. today, I award myself a B+, although (or because) I didn't always succeed.

why? because.

that is the reason; why is not the reason, and the reason is not because. why? the simple reason is that we don't ask why is the reason? but what is the reason?

useless infotainment

so, Foster the People is named after singer-songwriter Mark Foster, and Ben Folds Five is named after singer-songwriter Ben Folds. have I missed anything else?!

past, present, no future

"what is it about booze that draws nostalgia near?", I just asked myself. then, I thought, it's that we forget the present when we drink—with no future thought.

Xgiving, Xmas, and then this

it's that time of year, my children—the time of year (or every four years) that I hear something every day that makes me shake my head more than the day before.

well, that's ONE way to deal with DPD.

"I have had a lot of issues with numbness/emotional flooding cycles, and keeping a whole orange in the freezer has helped me from spinning completely out of control on more than one occasion."

intermission

this Gem is your Gem forever.

a non-fan of The Star-Spangled Banner, I propose either Columbia, Gem of the Ocean; The Stars & Stripes Forever; or This Land Is Your Land to be our new anthem.

idea for the next Hollywood-film poster:

two people with big eyes, giant in-the-cloud heads, standing back to back, their legs spread wide so you can see 2 people on a beach in the same pose—creating a mirror-within-a-mirror effect.

Occupy the Bus

this is not an official study, and these folks are not a representative group, but none of the Occupy Seattle people I've seen get on the bus has paid his fare.

suck it, Steve Pool.

the weatherman tells me to tune in at 11 to learn when the rain will return. I got to musing: do folks still watch the news? isn't that why God invented Google?

the saddest day

we have to turn back the clocks tonight. after the last day of the softball season & the final out of the Fall Classic, it's the lowest time of the year for me.

Día de los muertos

Momo came home today. I thought it appropriate, considering it's Halloween and the Day of the Dead is almost upon us. time to build a shrine/make a sugar skull?

take it to the Rainbow Bridge.

Kübler-Ross left "self-destructive behavior" off of her admittedly incomplete Five Stages of Grief list; nearly two weeks after Momo, I haven't been a good boy.

TV mom

the clothes that TV mommies wear in commercials—undershirt, V-neck sweater, and boring slacks—seem to say, "mommy makes babies, but mommy doesn't make whoopie."

from a friend...

...re: Momo: "I just saw your blog; I'm very sorry for your loss. an exceptional cat is a great thing; their passing is all the more painful." thanks, pal Joey.

goodnight, Peach Boy.

no more family meetings or "hi, boys!" or "who's a boy with a face?" or Snoopy Vulture or stays at the Nut Hut—but then, no more discomfort or needles or pills.

a fantascene

Stranger: [to Me, who’s having a cig] you shouldn't smoke; it's bad for you.

I: [to Stranger, who smiles as if self-satisfied] so is offering unsolicited advice.

from The Great Infidels (1881)

"to those who passed sentence upon him [Giordano Bruno] said: 'it is with greater fear that ye pass this sentence upon me than I receive it.'"
–Robert Ingersoll

schoolhouse wreck

these are adjectives that are used as nouns—with verbs—in TV ads:
·    Engineering amazing
·    Expect fresh
·    Eat fresh
and what the fuck does "now more than ever" mean?

will wait till next year.

another year, another $190 million-plus dollars. the New York Yankees division-winning season is up in smoke. for some reason, I'm not too upset—nearly over it.

save the children? "fuck the children!"

as I walk about town, I watch for drivers, dog poo, pennies/other money on the ground, other pedestrians, and lately the corner kids who want me to stop & chat.

new drinking game

are you...? do you...? if you or someone you know... you won't see one low-
end late-night ad during any low-end late-night TV show that doesn't start like that.

they matter-matter-matter!

it's funny how they say none of the ballplayers' stats matter (they're thrown out the window) in the playoffs, but they won't stop mentioning them. they matter!

wonderful spam

lately, my Spam folder contains mail from sites that connect Asian, Black, and Christian singles. flattering, but—isn't spam supposed to be "smarter" than that?

an end-of-season confession

for the past several months, I've put $5 into a weekly pool whereby you draw a ball team and, if that team scores exactly 13 runs—in a win or loss—you get $150.

human-interest feedbag?

the local news—a bastion of provincialism. how are we to know the world doesn't revolve around us, when the news we're fed comes from a human-interest grab bag?

as luck would have it redux

on Tuesday, I found my second wallet of the year (this time on the bus), and a friend who lives near the findee offered to deliver it to him. how lucky is that?

Repugnicans

the GOP claim that raising the tax rate on the rich will create a class war reminds me of a bully who pushes two unwitting classmates together & yells, "fight!"

kids, don't try this at home.

the things you learn while socializing with an old pal—like, how he learned to steer with his knees from his mom, who put on her makeup while driving to church!

mind you, I'm just quoting.

soccer is a gentleman's game played by animals, rugby is an animal's game played by gentlemen, and American football is an animal's game played by animals. yep.

remembrance of thing past

"if we had wanted a memorial to 9/11, it would have been more appropriate to leave one of the giant shards of broken tower [at Ground Zero] untouched." I agree.

strange days, indeed

in ascending order, my three least favorite days of the year are the end of the softball season, the end of daylight savings time, and the day after the Series.

hold the £€ttu¢€!

one day, the kids I don't have will live in a world in which the Gov't that jumped out of bed with Big Tobacco long enough to sue them will prosecute Fast Food.

get-rich-quick

do the paid-programming powers sell enough weight belts, magic sunglasses, and smoothie machines that they can afford to clog the TV airwaves night after night?

king of Paine

Suzy says I should wear fireproof clothes to the air show, and I laugh. at the show, Phil tells me they've had lots of accidents recently. o, my prescient wife!

another "interesting ethical question"

if I comment to my friend on last night's game "without [getting] the express written consent" of the Office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, should I be looking over my shoulder?

for Felipe Alberto

meeting young ones makes me feel old. seeing friends of my own age does the same—except we've walked similar paths, over which the snow falls to dust us evenly.

nothing but a head

if I'm not dead by the time the first book is published for which the author used voice-recognition software instead of a pen, typewriter, or computer, kill me.

have you noticed?

month by month, my blog entries have decreased in number: 30 in January, 28 in February, 22 in April, 18 in May, 15 in June, 10 in July, and 9 so far in August.

buying the Farm

I'm thinking of buying a car so that I can have it insured through State Farm. then, I'll be able to save enough money that I can afford to buy myself a falcon!

one reason that I don't own a car

a Hyundai commercial states that "you can't change gas prices." hmm. I'd bet that we could have something to say about gas prices—say, if we stopped buying gas.

whisperings

this blog is a metaphor for my persona: content with working from behind the scenes, under the radar, slightly over the shoulder—like the proverbial Black Pope.

just off the top of my head

here are 7 more words you can use instead of "amazing": remarkable, astonishing, wonderful, fascinating, incredible, scintillating, fantastic, and unbelievable.

putting the F in FedEx

dear FedEx, where the F are you? you're keeping me from a shower, shave, and my laundry! have you learned nothing from Kramer's run-in with the Plaza Cable guy?

let's make a deal.

here's an idea for commercial advertisers: I agree to let you track my purchases, if you stop broadcasting ads into my home for products of yours I already own.

brothers–(and-sisters)–in-arms

nothing bonds a group like setting off to unknown lands to wage war with an unknown foe. of course, I refer to my softball team's trek to Portland last weekend.

if my math is correct...

one lesson I've learned—and which seems to be very difficult to learn—is that near-future matters we fret & fuss over aren't worth fussing over 90% of the time.

priorities part deux

as a manager, when I say that I'd rather lose a softball game than that my players either become injured or don't have a good time, I could not be more serious.

what I like

I'm watching Police Story. hooker Tina Louise says to copper James Farentino, "you're not all cop, are you?" he tells her, "nobody's all anything." I like that.

11–7 part deux

our team had a good season. with an 11–7 record, we finished in 5th place, out of 15 teams—and were the 5th-to-last team to exit the playoffs. math is so funny.

taking a Stand

so, at the library the other day, I picked up—just barely picked up—a copy of Stephen King's The Stand: the thing weighs 4 lbs. this is why God invented Kindle.

softball lesson #1

one thing I learned this year is that as a manager it's not always easy to implement rules—such as the Substitutes Rule—that you enact as a league commissioner.

11–7

you learn new things—about yourself, about your team—after a long softball campaign. if you'll give me a day or two, I'm sure I can come up with a few of these.

the Mayor of West Farms

after I'd complained of something irking me "when I do this," a wise man once said, "it bothers you when you do this? so, don't do this." a wise man, my father.

some substance, little import

a body that's at rest tends to stay at rest, while a body that's in motion tends to stay in motion—unless the body has to stop & wait at a red light, of course.

4th of Ju–what-now?

maybe it's 'cause he's now 81 years old & doesn't give a rat's back pocket, but my feline friend is remarkably blasé about all these firework-related goings-on.

vice-issitudes

I often wondered about folks whom I'd see smoking at 9 AM (isn't that kind of early for a puff, friend?), until I started to do the same thing myself. ah, life!

Brawl at Dahl redux

I've been keeping a low, dark profile in anticipation of Saturday's perennial and classic "civil war" doubleheader against our sister beer-league-softball team.

happy belated day-off to me.

regarding my previous post: when I said that I was taking Wednesday (my birthday) off, I didn’t think that it would mean taking Thursday thru Saturday off, too!

taking the day off

don't ask me when it started—because I don't recall whether or not it was a conscious decision—but I've not worked (i.e., gone to work) on my birthday in years.

a 44th time

it's that time of year, and the body recalls it and reminds you of it via sight, smell, feel—the time at which your birthday coincides with the summer solstice.

I am they.

show me a man who doesn't feel guilty about taking 20-plus-minute showers, and I'll show you a man who skips a shower twice a week every week. (I am those men.)

here's something you don't hear anymore:

"keep the pack." you heard it a lot on TV and what-not after World War II. with cigarette prices being what they are now, you probably won't ever hear it again.

when in doubt...

...go with your gut. as a softball coach, I give my players the benefit of the doubt and strive to follow this rule—as well as "never change your first answer."

"I dood it!"

once—just once!—I wish that a pol (see Weiner, Edwards) would cop to his crime. can you imagine? "against the advice of counsel, I'm here to say that I did it."

...this must be Belgium.

when you don't work—and, by extension, sleep—regular hours, Friday can feel like Tuesday can feel like Monday. consequently, Saturday & Sunday lose their sheen.

oh, say, can you change the anthem?

the one thing I appreciate about our American anthem is that it doesn't mention any god. otherwise, I could do without the blood, brio, and bombast of the tune.

a Markov the times

last night—in the bathroom of the Comet Tavern—I saw a sticker for a band called NonZeroSum. bands have officially run out of decent names. what's next: Theory?

the agony of defeated purpose

I've noted (and am guilty of it, too) that when callers leave a message that they want you to return immediately, they tend to ramble—delaying your quick reply.

where's Bluto, when you need him?

I love the summer, when people stay outdoors longer and enjoy a fine evening with friends. what I do not love is when one of them decides to break out a guitar.

the coach–Comm-Ish

you know, I think I finally have got the hang of this beer league–softball co-Commissioner business. team manager and co-Commish, simultaneously? not a problem.

how it works redux

the trickiest part of a daily blog post of no more—or fewer—than 160 characters on "matters of substance & import" is the daily bit (meaning the "matters" bit).

cheezy bullshit

sorry, "Papa John," or whatever the fuck your name is, but do we really need a six-cheese pizza? personally, I’ve lost the cheese taste after the second cheese.

fear the 'Foot.

besides wanting to be a wolfman in my youth—and speaking of Spokane—I wanted to form a team to hunt Bigfoot. now, I'm not so sure I'd have the balls to do that.

does not rhyme with cocaine

I was recently in Spokane, the hometown of many of my Seattle friends, and it helped me understand exactly where they're coming from—figuratively and literally.

say it ain't so, yo!

film producer and local softballer Stan "Staniel Adams" Mastalerz has been arrested for defacing the Space Needle to promote a local film! free the Mastalerz 1!

fung ku, panda!

so, the SIFF (Seattle International Film Festival) includes Kung Fu Panda 2 in its lineup. oy, vey! thankfully, my buddy Matt Wilkins' film—Marrow—made the cut.

but, in time...

you ask if I plan to write another book; if I'm still writing stories; if I've written anything new, anything lately. my short reply? other than on my blog, no.

keepin' us honest

it's a good sign when your softball team loses in a laugher—takes a drubbing, has its collective ass handed to it—but then comes back to snatch a win in Game 2.

workin' 9 to 5

what's the statute of limitations on illegal distribution of a sexual-harassment industrial video—one that features me, the Dabney Coleman of industrial videos?

on any given Sunday

pinched neck nerve. busted pinky. sore hammy. strained calf. bad back. two injured knees. a softball coach has to face these types of thing on any given Sunday.

good plan

I'm glad I have my $19.99 all-you-can-text phone plan: over the past week, I've sent and received 571 SMS messages—an average of 82/day!—for a total of $114.20.

stylish, but cheap

those Imported from Detroit ads (Chrysler) make the car look so stylish & expensive! then they say it's available for $199/month, which kinda cheapens the deal.

trapped

trapped in your home = your softball teammate falling asleep on your couch + the girlfriend who came to pick up said teammate also falling asleep on said couch.

the ISL co–Comm-Ish

if you're wondering about my 2-day blog hiatus, I've been overwhelmed with work—not at my job, but with the goings-on of the Seattle Industrial Softball League.

congratulations, Dan & Susie!

it must be a good, fun, happy wedding when it's cold and raining all weekend and yet no one complains about the temperature, the weather, or the 7-hour ride up!

Mome alone

poor monkey bastard seems to know when we're leaving the house for more than 24 hours. strangely quiet, he follows us around "supervising"—and always underfoot.

thespianism

when I hear a monologue of the type that was given by Don Ameche in Heaven Can Wait or Mickey Shaughnessy in The Marrying Kind, I regret having given up acting.

"causally connectible"

I'm into serendipity, coincidence, synchronicity. so I enjoyed seeing these randomly generated letters on the license plate of a car a cutie was driving: "UQT".

spirit of America

say what you will, but there's nothing like sitting down—be it in the evening or morning—and rolling up your own nice, natural, additive-free-tobacco cigarette.

out like a lamb

I heard some street noise today I hadn't heard in a while: the sounds of joy—kids screaming, basketballs bouncing, people laughing & calling out to one another.

damn, dude.

here's an addendum to my never-change-your-first-answer rule: never change your first answer, unless your first answer is completely and utterly fucking stupid.

realiterally?

the next time anyone says "I literally had to..." or "it was literally...," I'm going to ask the person, "when you say 'literally,' do you mean that literally?"

priorities

when your softball team wins two close games against two lesser-division teams, don't give Coach shit for missing a bachelor party to be 100% for the next game.

Marwencol

a documentary I just saw on TV won myriad best-doc awards, but I wonder if it wasn't the subject matter—not any technical aspect—of the film that merits a kudo.

sleepwalking

I just woke up from a four-&-a-half–hour "nap." the dream that I had while "napping" seemed more real to me than the way that I feel now, which is drunk-groggy.

the Man in the Yellow Hat

it occurs (and has occurred) to me that it's nigh impossible to post something "of substance & import" on this blog every day. I am not the freakin' Dalai Lama.

happy boitday to da Oit!

happy Earthday to you./

happy Earthday to you./

happy Earthday, dear planet./

happy Earthday to you.

and many more! I'm sure no one else has come up with that.

literally, amazing!

I thought up what seemed like a good drinking game: take a sip when they say "amazing" on American Idol. bad idea: 6 minutes in, I'm being hauled off the floor.

F-N M's

leave it to the M's to win—and win big—when no one's paying attention because of the NBA & NHL playoffs—not to mention every other goddamned who-cares ballgame.

buzzed texting is drunk texting.

thankfully, I've never been accused of "sexting," but I'm afraid that I am guilty of what I call "textual harassment"—that, or TUI: texting under the influence.

pregame jittering

sitting here; poring over tomorrow's Opening Day lineups; not knowing what to do with myself, otherwise—knees bouncing, drinking yesterday's coffee and smoking.

the great Neanderthal novel

I wonder who wrote the first work of fiction that was intended for popular consumption. what caveman scribbled the first words and said, "you should read this"?

the wisdom of Yogi

I read that Berra used to keep a steak in his mitt, both to protect the palm of his hand and to pound the meat for his wife. (those last six words sound dirty.)

why I missed the batting cages

dear bus driver,

what is wrong with you? if you miss a scheduled stop time, it should be because you're late—not early. and the next time you're early, wait up!

the Sports Hater

Friday night, an M's game; Saturday afternoon, a Sounders match; and Sunday, a softball tournament. (can you blame a gal for taking two days off from blogging?)

"stop whining!" (who, me?)

what's worse: two wheelchairs on one bus, or a bratty little kid crying on the bus? (at least, it isn't a bratty little kid crying in a wheelchair on said bus.)

Unicorns, Scrub-Jays, and Ratz—oh, my!

I fear my posts "of substance & import" will be taking a backseat the next few weeks to musings on the upcoming Industrial Softball League season. my apologies.

to the break o' dawn

sorry for not posting last night; I was up till the early morn' typing up, formatting, and e-mailing the 2011 Industrial League Softball schedule—a work of art.

get your own damn bus.

on my bus today, not one but two wheelchairs are loaded within stops of each other. what're the chances of that happening? (why can't they wheel down the Hill?)

hunkering down

the time for taking practice cuts & infield drills is over. now we hunker down for the live fire that awaits us & use what we have learned to vanquish our foes.

softball roolz

rule #1: the night before the game, the player will abstain from indulging in debauchery & other lascivious activity. rule #2: the player will follow the rules.

the return of Space Mantis; or, welcome back, Trotter

I reconnected with an old friend & teammate at the batting cages today. he wants to rejoin the team & is willing to "keep the bench warm & the beer cold." nice.

"an interesting ethical question"

a tweaker once gave me a hockey jersey. I gave it to a friend, then asked for it back, so that I could gift it to another friend (a hockey fan). was that wrong?

crazy hand jive

a variation on a theme: today, I saw a bicyclist use her left hand—upraised and crooked at the elbow—to signal a left turn. I didn't know people still did that.

hang up & chew.

dear pedestrian,
please do me a favor and pay attention as you walk—meaning, look up from your phone occasionally, jaywalk intelligently, and stay out of my way.

I witness

I have an uncanny gift for recognizing faces—especially of well-known actors in little-known, early-career roles. Suzy says that I'd be hell in a witness chair.

"to everything—turn, turn, turn..."

dear driver,

please do us both a favor and signal if you're going to turn. they've yet to invent the car—or the pedestrian—that can read your mind or intention.

espresso love's lost.

my coffee gal raised prices another $0.25; my doppio now costs $2.50. does she know I go only for her amiability—that better, cheaper espresso is 2 blocks away?

updos & downtalk

in the future—when we hold our Aughts parties—we'll remember our guys and their unfortunate Sleestak hairdos, as well as our gals and their down-talking growls.

"goodbye, soldier!"

when Tina Turner said, "we don't need another hero," did she mean we don't need another sandwich? ('cause, as we all know, a hero ain't nothin' but a sandwich.)

nephalism redux

that ride on the wagon I'd mentioned earlier turned out to be bumpier than expected. I've fallen off at least twice—with every intention of jumping back aboard.

save the date!

want to draw crowds in support of the failing cinema? make romantic comedies. a lady on a first date might go—if only to delay a visit to her lame date's house.

need-to-know

running a softball team would be far easier if I disseminated only the necessary info. some day, I'll learn that too much info can be worse than no info at all.

Wiley the Wise

today, I gave my standard never-change-your-first-answer advice to a friend's teenage son, who's taking a final exam. his reply: "oh, no, man! I never do that!"

"everybody look what's going down..."

I change the channel from depressing Japanese-tragedy news to Three's Company, and what do I get? "save the life of a child. sponsor a child through ChildFund."

shaken & stirred

earthquakes terrify me, but only in the intervals between them. the last one I experienced (in 2001) was not scary; I was too stunned—and unnerved—to be scared.

why 6 is my lucky number

June is my birth month; other than song #2, song #6 is the best song on a vinyl LP; and God created Man (allegedly) on Day 6. c’mon, what more do I have to say?

ex–native New Yorker

have you been to New York lately? NYC in 2010 is what Los Angeles was in 1989: virtually empty of natives. when I lived in LA, everyone was from somewhere else.

"force equals Ma."

the things you remember from teachers: sure, Mr. Haffner taught us that
F = ma; but, he also said, "never change your first answer," which I haven't done since.

seen thru a glass, darkly

when I was a kid, I spoke as a kid, I understood as a kid, I thought as a kid; but, when I became a man, I put away kid-like things. damn, I miss my skateboard.

notes of a nephalist

it's time to hop on the water wagon, to get realistic & teetolastic. (the time, expense, and psycho-/physiological aspects of boozing outweigh the social ones.)

smudge

on ESPN yesterday, one announcer had an ashen cross on his forehead. how, exactly, is this less crazy-looking than any ritual we might mock in another religion?

Scrub-Jay herding

someone compared managing a softball team to cat herding; but that's not my experience. for me, it's more like running Sunday School—which is the same thing....

a.k.a. the ethic of reciprocity

searching the Golden Rule online yields the Yoruba "one going to take a pointed stick to pinch a baby bird should first try it on himself to feel how it hurts."

He doesn't even hate the Devil.

did anyone catch the Devil on SNL last night? he reminded us that God does not hate fags—as some "Christian" military-funeral protesters might have you believe.

"and on the eighth day..."

the Beatles were on to something with "Eight Days a Week." weekends are for relaxing, not for cleaning up around the house. (for that, we'd need an eighth day.)

orange pekoe

if only I had a blue cat (and they do make 'em in blue), I could wear my Navy pea coat without first having to de-fur it, which I have to do with an orange cat.

do-over

tattoos are like bankruptcy in that they might be for others, but not for me. (I'm not interested in things that cannot be undone, bells that cannot be unrung.)

but only at times

at times—as now, when I'm reading Thomas Frank's The Wrecking Crew: How Conservatives Rule—I wonder why I bother to vote, when others pull the political levers.

blogging while asleep

last night’s dream featured me blogging while watching street-corner buskers: one, a Spanish-pop acoustic guitarist; the others, an iPod-playing electronic duo.

how to get fired

about 15 years ago, in a meeting at work, the founder of the company used the cliché, "there is no 'I' in 'team'." my reply? "no, but there is a 'u' in 'fuck'."

universal truth

how's this for a mindbender? "our universe is the only known example of a universe in the Universe." thanks to Neil DeGrasse Tyson, from NOVA scienceNOW on PBS.

might've been, schmight've been

why regret what never was or might've been? it'd be like resenting your friends, whom you met at your backup school, instead of the school you wanted to attend.

that's cold.

cold weather keeps fools moving, so that they're less likely to stop to mess with you; if they do stop to mess with you, the extra layers will soften the blows.

amazing, literally

logically, I do appreciate something being "literally amazing." but it means little when everything is "amazing" and this is "literally" (and incorrectly) that.

#1 might be more difficult.

staying away from Facebook for one day is a bit like making #2: you still have to face getting back on the pot by the end of the day, by which time it's harder.

together, alone

sometimes, I want to be alone with my thoughts; then, I find out that my thoughts would rather spend that time on their own (they suggest that I go to the bar).

baked goods

once, in L.A., absolutely baked out of my mind, I said: "you will find the answer to it all, then you will die"—meaning that we learn too late how to live life.

de Baboo hay...

if the Bible says that "thou [man] shalt eat the herb of the field; in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread," why aren't there more Christian vegetarians?

I'm wit dem Dems!

I am liking this recent walkout by Wisconsin Democrats, this mini-rebellion! they've taken pages from two books—one each by Egyptian protesters & the Tea Party.

modern techmology

riddle me this: do these stupid-moron TV-news reporters really need those handheld mics? it seems to me that the technology would be there to make 'em obsolete.

to tell a story

I think I know why I watch the same films over & over again when they come on TV: it's the storytelling gene—a drive to memorize scenes for sharing with others.

play time (almost)

it's begun—softball talk, that is. our preseason starts April 10, with Opening Day the following weekend (April 16). also begun: smack-talking, as it should be.

from the findee...

"lost my wallet last night. checked email; some nice guy had found it, found me on FB. now I have my wallet, with all my cash n junk back. thank you, universe!"

lost & found

as luck would have it, I found a wallet just as I left work & stepped off the curb. by luck, I mean that of the owner, who'll get his wallet soon, in one piece.

throwin' a clock out the window

I know it's 'cause I'm aging and days are cascading into weeks, months, etc., but I was dreading Christmas just 4 months ago, and suddenly it's Valentine's Day.

especially memorable

guess the one day of the year I make it a point not to drink. believe it or not, it's the day of my birthday. why? I want it to be special, unique, memorable...

not a good thing

all this talk about Mubarak finally having stepped down seems to ignore (naïvely?) that the man has handed over the reins of power to the military—a good thing?

gayborhood?

what do the media mean by community? do they mean neighborhood? who, what, or where is my community? if there's a gay community, am I in the straight community?

thoughtlessness

oh, my god, my thought, my thought, my thought! I promise you, I had one. my thought, a thought, my kingdom for a thought! now I know how Bill Shakespeare felt.

not-so-magic mirror

the kids'-TV episode of PBS's Pioneers of Television series reminds me of how bummed out I'd be when they didn't say my name in the Magic Mirror on Romper Room.

Furrsday birthday

I think yesterday was (or today is) my cat's birthday. that would make Momotarō Shimizu Davenport Marrero a 16-year-old Scottish Fold. happy birthday, Momo-san.