2010 so far»
In place of a bunch of emo-y words, here’s a metaphor »
If you wish to make a blog from scratch, you must first invent the universe.
In place of a bunch of emo-y words, here’s a metaphor »
The other day I saw a Cedar Waxwing. Actually, about eight of them, feasting on the berries of a nearby tree. A-anne saw them the day before, and got a picture:
I wanted to get my own, but could not find my zoom lens. I had to settle for the camera in my Mind.
Later that very same day—so much later it was actually night—I saw a screech owl up in another nearby tree. I can’t do the normal owl call, so I got its attention by making high pitched fart sounds. It was really cute, until it clawed my eyes out. (That’s how this story would have ended if I didn’t stop making those sounds!)
Today I finally got my money’s worth from the all-day Saturday pass ($2 for unlimited bus rides).

Actually, I had an idea once, when I was driving all up and down the Olympic Peninsula. I’d be out in the middle of nowhere, and there’d be a bus stop sign there. Western Washington has a whole mess of different local, county, and community bus systems, so I wanted to see how far I could get, starting in downtown Seattle. I could get pretty far into the Peninsula, for sure, and heading north and east I could probably get close to the Cascades.
I had this awesome dream (for once), and was totally bummed-ass-out when I woke up from it. In it, I typed some random text into this Orator-like program (see this blogging), and it would sing the words back as an awesome lo-fi pop song. I tried it again, and this time it had musical backing and everything! It ruled. Then I woke up to a life where computers will not write my pop songs for me.
That night I also had a less awesome dream, wherein I heard a Sleater-Kinney song that was so awesome it made tears come to my eyes. Lots of them. This one’s actually more realistic. Something like that would happen on a regular basis if I were capable of displaying human emotions.
I am all the time having one of several recurring dreams. They get boring.
And, rarest of all, and only if I’ve been REALLY good…
It doesn’t really take a freudian to pinpoint the source of all these dreams, but the main thing is it’s damn ass hell of boring to only have a few different scenarios to pick from each night. It’s a writer’s strike up in my brain.
*This was from a trailer for the movie “Phantasm II” way back when I was a youngling. Then the scary thing (whatever it was) pops up and goes, “No, it’s not!” Well, my friend Na and I thought it would be even funnier to say, “No, it ain’t!” and then we’d laugh for about 15 minutes.
This weekend I actually spent all my money on groceries instead of robots. That Gundam kit I ate last week tasted AWFUL!
Here are a few of the ways I’ve described my myriad aches and ailments (most often a type of ache):
I submit that my neighbors should not be allowed to cook food in their kitchens. It was particularly bad last night, when my cat Spike made “a smell” in the litter box, and I couldn’t tell where his “smell” ended and the neighbor’s dinner “smell” began. Basically it smelled like an overcooked cilantro/curry-infused chicken and poop hotdish.*
And for dessert, a plate of… (see title)
*Midwestern for casserole