For the Newbies
As I approach my third anniversary with y’all (still a little more than a month away), I thought I might offer the newer members a trip down my memory lane. Deron has many times queried Sheila for helps and hints on fashion. I’m not sure, but my comment, buried here, may have been my first appearance.
I Should Kick Myself
The entry into the garage. We had new siding put on the house three…four? years ago. At the time, they also put in new garage doors with openers, new windows in the media room (a 10′x25′ room on the south side of the house). Why I didn’t include this door in the deal is a mystery to me. I remember thinking, “Ooo, this is too much money.” But, honestly, what would another three or four hundred dollars have done to the loan, lien on the house over the course of fifteen years?
Nevermind the decaying concrete ruined by ten years of throwing “snow-melt” on top of it, that now needs to be ripped out and replaced. “All in good time,” I keep thinking. “All in good time.” And then there’s the landscaping. Oh, fuck it. The shoemaker’s kids go without shoes.
Roly Poly
You can always count on me.
dear clusterflock
Is it only the internal compass that points true north?
Hey bitches
From here.
For Andrew (ala Sheila)
Thinking about grief, thinking about my brother.
Largely why I was hated in high school
Phil once asked somthing like “is there a photo of yourself you wouldn’t show someone?” This would be it, if I were showing it. The dude on the left was my neighbor to the north of our house in the background. We shared a driveway.
First impression…
Are George and Diane just a little tipsy?
from the comments
I own stuff I wish I didn’t and resist owning stuff that I love.
Oh, Phil! Yes. I intend to change that equation, soon.
paraphrased quote out of context
Journalist: “The journey from Santo Domingo to Port Au Prince which normally takes five hours took twelve because there was so much traffic.”
Larry: “Aid coming in?”
Journalist: “I saw a lot of journalists, not much food and water.”
Clustersource
Without thinking, comment: What’s the first thing you think when you see…
VC?
dear clusterflock
It is soooooo cold…
Zaha Hadid
Deron? (Signage excepted.)
Avatar
Was awesome, y’all.
Christmas Memory: bb guns
One Christmas, my brother and I got Daisy bb guns. We wanted them bad. We couldn’t wait to shoot them, but it was mid-winter in Rockford. Daddy set us up a stack of boxes packed with newspaper in the basement with a target stapled to the side. It wasn’t long before we bored of straight shootin’ and opted up for tricks. We went upstairs, stole Mom’s hand-mirror off her vanity, and commenced fancy-shootin’ backwards Annie Oakley style. My brother’s first shot riccocheted off the blocks of the basement wall and hit my brother in the back of his head. Didn’t hurt him. Didn’t break the skin. But how he howled. It stung! We could have put an eye out!
I invite all clusterflockers/readers near and far to tell us a Christmas story over the next few days. It would be the best gift we could give each other.
2,000 frames per second
Where I Am Today…
50,168
I finished NaNoWriMo a day early. From this month spent writing everyday whatever came to mind as fast as I could type, I hope to have new posts to remembery and RICK ruminating and some “artful” submissions to some places some of us frequent. I ran the marathon, y’all! I could just bust out bawlin’.
Slaybell Slapdown
Faun Do
Two months growth! I’d hoped for something more. Happy Halloween, Y’all.
God Tweets His Prodigal
Formerly En Route Six-Sixty-Six, edited for possible submission someplace. I should have seen it before I sent it anywhere.
Forgive me, mine belov’d. It was mine DNA, or mine slip of tongue when speaking incarnation.What corrupt dipthong brought long thine feet at birth? Thine bifurcate toes fore’er en pointe? Thine short calves and thighmeat cantilevered upon high-broughten heels? Misbegotten one! Thine knees could not kneel even if so thou wisht. For all thine affliction, thou art gifted with music and rich shenanigans. I lov’st thou even when thine tests upon me tax me to the maximum. Still, I lov’st thou more than all who claimest to follow me. Thou wouldst play back mine faults in nasty acts. Thou art my greatest making. Leader of the leftmost! The side I’ll cast down one day hence. Why canst thou do what I sayeth? Stubborn kid! Devil! Ye gods! Thou makest me mad! Yield, beast! Yield! Look what thou hast made me do! Gomorrah’s now a smoking hole! When I said, “Let there be faun!” I meant “fawn.” Now we have…what? This shitty history? WTF?
First Birthday
Trying to Pull it Together
Andrew posted this.
Kelsey posted this.
In a comment on Kelsey’s post, Andrew said this:
I miss being in a culture of ideas like I once was. I certainly was writing more vibrantly and found myself engaging very challenging material. I have less opportunity for that than I did. Then continued with: Or have I only given myself less opportunity for it?
Andrew, I would only challenge your statement (couched in the knowledge that you know, on many occasions, challenging ideas are broached here on the ‘flock) by saying that your writing (and your speech, on occasion) here is vibrant. All the time. Rigorous thought and writing, I think, is present, too. I think, I think you miss the construct of “the classroom situation?” Where ideas, in reading, in discussion, are presented in a formal way?
I do more writing here, than I ever did on my own. (Once again, I suppose, a construct. Here, the continuing conversation is the base.) I was once barely exposed, in an evening Lit Crit class at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, to Derrida and Eagleton (Heddiger and Goethe). At the end of the class, I wanted more. I’ve only pursued it in small ways, since. (If I won the Lottery and could live and do anything I wanted, I would take classes, with the express desire to see/hear the ideas of the past and ponder and wonder and think rigorously with no part of my “mind” given away to the “making of a living.”)
(Feel free to pull out your microphone and speak.)
Beneath the Fourth Lens
Dr. Jan Schall, Curator of Contemporary Art, led Amanda Mae, Danny and me on a very personal tour of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. What a passionate tour it was. Our many conversations over the weekend spun ’round it time and again.
Thank you Dr. Jan!
Dear Clusterflock
When have you laughed out loud in a completely inappropriate moment?