I went to my left-hand pants pocket today for keys. I didn’t have any and I always have keys there, always.
Keys are tied to strings that are tied to items that are tied to life. Keys to the Car, the house, work. Funny, the blip of panic I felt, realizing that I had no keys. No keys! Nothing tying me to anything, anywhere. Then, followed autonomy from sticky things: bills, leases, and contracts. From panic to tranquility in one half-second. Wonderful.
Bobby pins. I love them. I pick them up, like dimes on the floor. Irresistible. Thinking that they have been embedded in the hair of some woman, somewhere, thrills me. I picked one up yesterday in the hospital elevator, stuck it in my left-hand pants pocket. Fantastical, then soothing - this bobby pin in my pocket. I’ll put it with all the others in my collection. Each one connected with someone else, unknown, but somewhere. Fastened to imagination. Fastened to life.
29.7.09
20.7.09
I'm reposting this because I think it's funny,...still.
Instructions For the Operation Of a Clothespin
(A) Spring Type Clothespins
1. Grasp clothespin by the open end(the end that’s shaped like a V) between your thumb(if you do not have a thumb one can be purchased at your local Home Depot) and your forefinger.
2. Squeeze the clothespin ends together causing the opposite end of the clothespin to open(At this point we recommend using extreme caution. Clothespins are not toys, the open, spring-loaded end could come in contact with unattended body parts and cause severe discomfort. Keep all children, pets, and baby unicorns away from open clothespins). Aim away from face.
3. Place open clothespin over clothing article and pinning apparatus(We strongly encourage using certified clothes line cable in any clothes hanging situation. Poorly anchored or weak clothes line cable could result in clothing falling from dangerous heights; creating a hazard by landing on and/or covering up important items such as car keys or the entrance to a really cool cave.). Wait 5-7 minutes after eating before pinning clothing to a clothes line. Do not hang clothing while you are on fire.
4. Remove fingers from the clothespin releasing the spring tension onto the clothing and cable(release speed is critical during this step; releasing to fast could result in a loud SNAP sound startling nearby wildlife and/or napping grandparents. Releasing the clothespin too slowly could result in finger fatigue and cramping - the leading cause of accidents during the picking of noses, ears, and kickball teammates.). Practice responsible clothes pinning; avoid using clothespins while under the influence of alcohol or hallucinogens.
(B)Friction Type Clothespins
1. Place clothespin over clothing and clothesline. Enjoy!
(A) Spring Type Clothespins
1. Grasp clothespin by the open end(the end that’s shaped like a V) between your thumb(if you do not have a thumb one can be purchased at your local Home Depot) and your forefinger.
2. Squeeze the clothespin ends together causing the opposite end of the clothespin to open(At this point we recommend using extreme caution. Clothespins are not toys, the open, spring-loaded end could come in contact with unattended body parts and cause severe discomfort. Keep all children, pets, and baby unicorns away from open clothespins). Aim away from face.
3. Place open clothespin over clothing article and pinning apparatus(We strongly encourage using certified clothes line cable in any clothes hanging situation. Poorly anchored or weak clothes line cable could result in clothing falling from dangerous heights; creating a hazard by landing on and/or covering up important items such as car keys or the entrance to a really cool cave.). Wait 5-7 minutes after eating before pinning clothing to a clothes line. Do not hang clothing while you are on fire.
4. Remove fingers from the clothespin releasing the spring tension onto the clothing and cable(release speed is critical during this step; releasing to fast could result in a loud SNAP sound startling nearby wildlife and/or napping grandparents. Releasing the clothespin too slowly could result in finger fatigue and cramping - the leading cause of accidents during the picking of noses, ears, and kickball teammates.). Practice responsible clothes pinning; avoid using clothespins while under the influence of alcohol or hallucinogens.
(B)Friction Type Clothespins
1. Place clothespin over clothing and clothesline. Enjoy!
18.7.09
Exerpt.
During the following summer, while he was picking up his mail in the lobby, Ron met Marie, a new tenant moving into the apartment directly above his, into apartment 4. He was instantly frozen with delight and ferocity when she came gliding through the lobby door. Marie was a vibrant and shining woman, to Ron she was the apex of emotion and desire, never had he been so struck by another’s presence. She was a slim woman with fair skin, light freckles on her nose, and auburn hair that was drawn back in a pony tail. She had refined features which made her appear ‘expensive’ to Ron, but her mild demeanor told otherwise.
As he stood there with mail in hand, she walked in with a basket full of folded clothes, smiled, and said hello. He was speechless and fully aware that his mouth was propped open with astonishment, though he could do nothing about it. He managed a cordial greeting, then she introduced herself. Sweat felt as though it was about to drip from his hand as he extended it for a handshake. He hadn’t thought it through well, and placed the hand back at his side when he realized that both of hers were occupied with the laundry basket.
Several seconds passed before Ronald became aware of his gawky posture and in an effort to rectify the awkwardness of their meeting he magnanimously offered to help her carry a few things inside. Marie agreed, stating that she would need help with her desk and box spring. Ron knew that keeping his hands busy with this task would help to allay his nervous and trepid thoughts about her, allowing him to carry on a decent conversation, much in the same way that occupying his mind with math helped him curb a bouncing knee or tapping pencil.
Moving the desk was effortless, while they moved it across the lobby floor Ron imagined that rather than moving a desk together, the two of them were sitting across from one another at a small table, at a small coffee shop, in Italy. He managed to carry the box spring into her apartment on his own and proceeded to pick items out of the trailer and move them in until there were no items left to pick. This was his chivalrous way of letting her know that he was smitten by her, this was Ron’s way of buying Marie flowers.
As he stood there with mail in hand, she walked in with a basket full of folded clothes, smiled, and said hello. He was speechless and fully aware that his mouth was propped open with astonishment, though he could do nothing about it. He managed a cordial greeting, then she introduced herself. Sweat felt as though it was about to drip from his hand as he extended it for a handshake. He hadn’t thought it through well, and placed the hand back at his side when he realized that both of hers were occupied with the laundry basket.
Several seconds passed before Ronald became aware of his gawky posture and in an effort to rectify the awkwardness of their meeting he magnanimously offered to help her carry a few things inside. Marie agreed, stating that she would need help with her desk and box spring. Ron knew that keeping his hands busy with this task would help to allay his nervous and trepid thoughts about her, allowing him to carry on a decent conversation, much in the same way that occupying his mind with math helped him curb a bouncing knee or tapping pencil.
Moving the desk was effortless, while they moved it across the lobby floor Ron imagined that rather than moving a desk together, the two of them were sitting across from one another at a small table, at a small coffee shop, in Italy. He managed to carry the box spring into her apartment on his own and proceeded to pick items out of the trailer and move them in until there were no items left to pick. This was his chivalrous way of letting her know that he was smitten by her, this was Ron’s way of buying Marie flowers.
14.7.09
Return to the Infrared Life
Along with my return to the hum-drums of Infrared Thermography comes the dreaded return of the 'airy whistle'. This morning I was entertained with the likes of "We Built This City" by Starship. True to form, i was only privy to two phrases from the chorus for much of the morning.
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city on rock and roooooooooooll
...
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city
and so on.
To relive my agitation from last year with me, please read on...
13.8.08
Rattle and Whistle
It may be true that you will learn to despise any person after you’ve spent enough time with them. Reason is thrown to the wayside in that moment of hate when you have finally reached a breaking point with your unavoidable companion. You even contemplate murder, or at least imagine an unfortunate workplace accident, alien abduction, or spontaneous combustion. We’ve all had this happen, no matter how nice you are.
My morning routine is beginning to try me. I’m working on the road, spending most of my waking moments with one man, my boss, essentially. He is charismatic at the outset, funny, jolly, even fascinating at times. Now, however, after weeks with him and only him, my toleration is begging for rest. He’ll show up at my hotel door, 7.30am, bright and bubbly. I on the other hand, am grim, groggy; bracing myself for his cheery morning comment and shit eating grin. His words annoy me for no good reason.
We eat breakfast.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
We drive to the AFB.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
I begin to wake up. I begin to be more cordial.
We arrive at the AFB hospital
The song that was last playing on the radio of our rental car as we park at the hospital becomes the absolute bane of my workday.
He whistles it.
It’s not even a whistle, it’s that feeble, airy, seemingly unobtrusive, half whistle. It’s weak and in my ear for the duration of the morning. I’ll try to defer him by singing a catchy tune of my own, or by whistling like any decent person whistles.
No dice.
“WHISTLE LIKE A MAN, YOU TURD!” I utter in my head.
The worst part?
The worst part is that it’s never the entire song. In fact, it’s not even close to the entire chorus! It’s one part of it, over and over again. Nonsensical parts of the chorus spliced together, made into a death march chant. “whooh whowhooooooo, whooah, whoooooooooooo”
A small list is building inside of my mind now of songs that are ruined forever as a direct result of this phenomenon.
Today, at lunch in the cafeteria, we watched coverage of the Olympic Games.
….
Do you have any idea at what speed the Olympic theme music can become annoying?
Imagine hearing it continuously on a loop for nearly an hour and a half after your lunch break.
Now, instead of hearing noble trumpets blasting it in perfect tune, replace it with a dry, pathetic, reaching for life ‘whrrrrroooooaaah’.
Add the tooth-gnashing intensity of 1,000 mosquitoes hovering around your head.
I wanted to jam #2 pencils into my ears.
“Whooo WHOO wh whoo wha wha wha, wh wh wh wh WH wh whwhWHWHwh wh whooooooaaaahh”
Again.
And again.
And Again.
I now harbor the same hate for the Olympic theme music that the Menards employees harbor for the cheery, banjo driven “SAVE BIG MONEY AT MENAAAAARDS!” theme music that plays every 45 seconds in their stores.
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city on rock and roooooooooooll
...
We built this city
We built this city
We built this city
and so on.
To relive my agitation from last year with me, please read on...
13.8.08
Rattle and Whistle
It may be true that you will learn to despise any person after you’ve spent enough time with them. Reason is thrown to the wayside in that moment of hate when you have finally reached a breaking point with your unavoidable companion. You even contemplate murder, or at least imagine an unfortunate workplace accident, alien abduction, or spontaneous combustion. We’ve all had this happen, no matter how nice you are.
My morning routine is beginning to try me. I’m working on the road, spending most of my waking moments with one man, my boss, essentially. He is charismatic at the outset, funny, jolly, even fascinating at times. Now, however, after weeks with him and only him, my toleration is begging for rest. He’ll show up at my hotel door, 7.30am, bright and bubbly. I on the other hand, am grim, groggy; bracing myself for his cheery morning comment and shit eating grin. His words annoy me for no good reason.
We eat breakfast.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
We drive to the AFB.
I ignore as many conversation starting comments as I can muster without distinct insolence.
I begin to wake up. I begin to be more cordial.
We arrive at the AFB hospital
The song that was last playing on the radio of our rental car as we park at the hospital becomes the absolute bane of my workday.
He whistles it.
It’s not even a whistle, it’s that feeble, airy, seemingly unobtrusive, half whistle. It’s weak and in my ear for the duration of the morning. I’ll try to defer him by singing a catchy tune of my own, or by whistling like any decent person whistles.
No dice.
“WHISTLE LIKE A MAN, YOU TURD!” I utter in my head.
The worst part?
The worst part is that it’s never the entire song. In fact, it’s not even close to the entire chorus! It’s one part of it, over and over again. Nonsensical parts of the chorus spliced together, made into a death march chant. “whooh whowhooooooo, whooah, whoooooooooooo”
A small list is building inside of my mind now of songs that are ruined forever as a direct result of this phenomenon.
Today, at lunch in the cafeteria, we watched coverage of the Olympic Games.
….
Do you have any idea at what speed the Olympic theme music can become annoying?
Imagine hearing it continuously on a loop for nearly an hour and a half after your lunch break.
Now, instead of hearing noble trumpets blasting it in perfect tune, replace it with a dry, pathetic, reaching for life ‘whrrrrroooooaaah’.
Add the tooth-gnashing intensity of 1,000 mosquitoes hovering around your head.
I wanted to jam #2 pencils into my ears.
“Whooo WHOO wh whoo wha wha wha, wh wh wh wh WH wh whwhWHWHwh wh whooooooaaaahh”
Again.
And again.
And Again.
I now harbor the same hate for the Olympic theme music that the Menards employees harbor for the cheery, banjo driven “SAVE BIG MONEY AT MENAAAAARDS!” theme music that plays every 45 seconds in their stores.
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