May 10, 2010
dear clusterflock
What do you expect?
comments
Leave a Reply
comments:
- Deron Bauman: It’s a start.
- Joel Bernstein: The first of many things, no doubt.
- Deron Bauman: I’ll pick him up at eight. He may not like the way I smell.
- Michael Smith: Joel’s Dream Date: Phantom Menace; Cat urine cologne; Deron.
- Joel Bernstein: For the record, if you pay to see this, you are no longer my friend.
- Deron Bauman: Meow.
- Joel Bernstein: This must be why I fuck so many cats.
- Michael Smith: Seems to me the experiment almost does itself.
- Casey Cichowicz: No. It is not possible. I can assure you.
- Joel Bernstein: Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes?
- LaurenH: I’m with those who say get that girl out of that household. The father has now very effectively...
- Rick Neece: Holee sh..!
- Rick Neece: Asian calligraphy, ‘cept instead of a brush, hot glass. The image of her controlling the glass and...
- Rick Neece: For the gull-wing, I’m sure it would knock me in the chin every time I opened it.
- Marco: Oh god yes.
I’ve finally got my mom using Twitter and she just said that yesterday the weather was in the sixties and sunny but today it’s snowing and just below thirty degrees. So, I expect I’ll need my industrial-strength boots if we’re going to hike behind her house like I’d like.
I expect that it’s the things I don’t expect that will be the most exciting.
In general, though, I guess I expect I’ll disappoint everyone I love. And it’s the coming to terms with that I expect will continue to be a challenge.
I expect that reason will prevail. I also expect that I will continue to be disappointed.
My previous statement edited by Michael Smith to be less depressing:
“We all feel like we disappoint those we love.” There.
I expect to continue to exceed the expectations of my harshest detractors.
I expect to hold unrealistic expectations.
I expect the good shit to happen when I’m not looking.
Humiliation and emotional pain. I’m pleasantly surprised when neither shows up.
I’m not sure whether I have expectations. I do have hopes and fears.
I expect an acceleration in the gap between intelligence and stupidity.
Yep.
Ain’t that the shits?
the drizzly ones.
I expect that the only reason people will address the trash island in the Pacific will be because ships can’t pass around it anymore.
Nothing, which is a lot.
The worst. Always the worst.
Also that I’ll be accused of being flip, as a result of the answer above.
Ana Moura performs “No Expectations”.
A little less elbow grease; a little more spackle.
Everything in the world to be easy for me. When it isn’t, I am confused.
but more importantly: “Everything in the world you could possibly imagine.”
That people will not take me at face value most of the time, since it seems obvious to me that there’s trickery going on.
Renner said spackle.
It seems obvious to me, too, Amae. About the trickery. It has been a disappointment to me that not everyone perceives this.
I wanted to write ‘disappointment,’ except that only occurs because I secretly expected the opposite.
I love Andrew’s response. It’s perfect.
I expect for the weather to sit directly in the little gap in my wardrobe where nothing is covering enough without being too heavy.
I recognize that I should expect nothing but goodness and light in this world. Hope. Joy. Love.
However, I experience things differently, at times.
This weekend with the in-laws, I chose to “experience” things as sadness and disappointment and frustration and obligation. Perspective: shut the fuck up and just “be”. After all, Iron Man 2 really did kick ass…especially if one were to wait for the after-credits.
In the near term, I expect cfs2 will be, as Cindy called last year’s clusterflockstock, “transcendent.” I expect it will not be transcendent in the same way, still, transcendent. I expect Silverthorne to be different than I have imagined, still, expectedly heavenly.
I expect “the gap between intelligence and stupidity,” for my part, to be fully realized for some of you, and for others, just more endearing. I expect to be tipsy toward the latter part of the evenings.
I expect the good shit to happen when I’m not looking. (I expect I’ll be in the other room and hear about it later, or not.) I expect when I’m in the other room, I’ll see, hear, feel something, I’ll forget to recount, that is just as good, if not amazing.
I expect I’ll pack sweaters and wear a jacket. Long pants. I’ll bring a pair of flip-flops, just in case I can wear them in the daytime.
When we leave, I expect to leave not wanting to, with a deep yearning for it to continue. I expect I’ll cry.
That’s the bitch about transcendence; even if you can pretty much count on it, you can’t count on it to be like it was.
I expect I’ll pack sweaters and wear a jacket. Long pants. I’ll bring a pair of flip-flops, just in case I can wear them in the daytime.
You and me both.
Michael will be traveling from scorching Sacramento. He’ll be the wimpiest, so everyone pack an extra sweater just for him.
Also, WISH HIM A HAPPY BIRTHDAY IF YOU HAVEN’T YET. He is 29 today.
Yes. We’ll be up near 100 here by the end of May. So I may enter a mild state of shock even if the temperature is mild and in the 60s. Just give me another beer and I should snap out of it.
Happy Birthday, Michael. Many happy returns! I’m looking forward to meeting you.
29. Hmm. 19 years ago. I can’t remember back that far.
At 29 I hit my first mid-life crisis and moved across the country to get away from who I was.
I think the last MLC was my third.
Happy Birthday, Dear Michael! Twenty-nine is wonderful. And your thirties will be even better. I’m drinking a toast to you and your bright future!
Oh, Danny. Would that everyone could expect only goodness and light.
Cindy gives the best 29th b’day toasts! I wish I could go back…
Danny, you remember you’re 29th! That was the year before the disastrous 30th birthday surprise party. Remember? You were happy, dammit. Remember?
Azur. Salmon Mediterranean style with roasted vegetables. A spicy red wine. Lovely.
Rioja.
happy birthday, Michael!
29 is a very good year.
See, I knew you remembered.
Thanks all. I look forward to seeing most of you at the end of the month.
I’ll bring this new fancy iPad my dear wife conspired to buy with the help of our moms.
Divine inspiration.
I always set myself up for a fall with my expectations – I’ve done it all my life. I mostly disappoint myself.
Hey Deron, I was just catching up on that article Kottke mentioned recently and there’s a paragraph that just about sums up your expectation:
Is this why you asked?
Hey Kelsey, sorry I just saw this. It wasn’t the impulse for the post or my response, but it definitely fits nicely.
I can’t believe nobody said “not the Spanish Inquisition!”
I’m not that sharp, Andrea — not unless I’m really on a roll.
Nobody expects The Spanish Inquisition!
“NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope, and nice red uniforms – Oh damn!”
I live my life in expectation of the Spanish Inquisition.
It’s that ‘almost’ fanatical devotion to the Pope that has always slayed me.
Almost is everything!
Now, old woman — you are accused of heresy on three counts — heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action — four counts. Do you confess?
I’m sorry, I must stop quoting this sketch!
Phil, perhaps you might sink down into a comfy chair and have a nip of gin. That’ll sort you.
[...] And more; I love all y’all. So big I could bust apart. [...]