Not So Triumphant This Return
Hi. Remember me? Well, it seems I've been tagged. Tagged = your blog has been dead lately, so here, get off your ass and make a top five list. Someone started this in a fit of frustration over unkept blogs, I imagine, like an angry neighbor furious about some lawn exceeding the standards of conformity. I'll do my best:
5 items in my fridge
1. A single 12 oz. bottle of Lost Coast Downtown Brown ale.
2. Two slices of leftover pepperoni pizza.
3. Leftover Indian food.
4. A variety of fancy olives. Sweet Jesus I love olives. All of them. From the green stuffed fare of mainstream supermarkets to the shriveled black pasty-textured raisin-looking things one pit away from instant tapenade. I eat too many in one sitting, and -- olives being acidic -- it results in abdominal discomfort. Ouch, my guts. I could make love to olives, though. You're delicious, you little fuckers.
5. Old hummus.
5 items in my closet
1. Wearable clothing.
2. Unwearable clothing.
3. A remote control lightswitch. The closet was originally a murphy bed and was repurposed as a large walk-in closet. As there was no existing electronic wiring in there, it appears they installed the light but not a switchbox, instead utilizing this remote control version. For the longest time we thought it was faulty wiring when it stopped working consistently, but then the Ladyfriend investigated and discovered this.
4. Various backpacks and bags.
5. Ancient ski boots.
5 items in my car
1. I
2. don't
3. have
4. a
5. car. Which has truly been a life-changing experience. I never want to own one again. I owned a full-size Dodge Ram van that had an ongoing issue with one misfiring cylinder. No one could fix it, and it was diagnosed incorrectly about a thousand times. I broke down on every highway in the bay area. I broke down on the fucking San Mateo Bridge for fuck's sake. I spent dollar after dollar. Getting rid of it was like having a sword removed from my eye.
5 items in mypurse backpack
1. USB flash drive.
2. Let's Go! Peru guide. The Ladyfriend and I are embarking on a Peruvian trek in less than two weeks. From Lima to Puno to Cusco and a hike to Macchu Piccu. I will eat guinea pig. I will buy a tiny guitar. I will speak rusty Spanish, but it will be so much better than my Chinese was, which is a shame given that we will likely be more on the beaten path this time, surrounded by people who speak some English. But there is one homestay, near lake Titicaca (which at age 31 I still find to be the world's most funny geographical site). Maybe there I can flex the tongue.
3. Combination Lock (for gym).
4. Various pens.
5. Marijuana.
5 people who are now tagged
Respectfully declining. I don't feel I can legitimately tag anyone else, with them being kettles and me being a black pot. I've been rather absent. My blogginess has withered like some sad office plant. I have blog erectile disfunction. I'm like a deadbeat blog dad, off drinking with his buddies in Duluth. I'm a pen with no ink. A slab of marble and no chisel.
What gives? I don't know. Somedays I'm sick of blogs and blogging, and even the word "blog" just makes me cringe a little bit. You can get a free blog anywhere now; American Idol was handing them out (not that I was watching that -- OK I was, but that's another post). They have taken on the sort of crassness I associate with chat rooms. OMG WTF I'm blogging ROFL, and such. Not to mention corporate blogs used as marketing devices; ugh.
But the form has blown up for a reason, a social angle to this so-very-antisocial world of technology. I still visit plenty throughout my day of office drudgery, and all of them I find valuable, and those of close friends/family invaluable, as they offer some proximity in the face of our geographical distance. And I know some of my loved ones enjoy this one for that same reason.
My other more valid excuse is that the muse has just been knocking on other doors lately, namely the musical one. I've spent the past month with a recording of my new band, mixing and mixing again, and with my already existing band, writing and writing. Both of them are on the verge of me finally playing a show again. I am genuinely musically inspired right now, and feel poised to do some of my best and most satisfying work.
I'm considering a change to this blog, actually, given my other pursuits. A sort of clearing house of my life and odd ventures, not limited to these blog postings but with updates on musical projects, the soon-to-be-continued-I-promise Turk and Jim, writing endeavors, photography, everything, basically -- leading to the need for more web space and a memorable domain. Now accepting suggestions. In any case, you four readers will be kept posted, I assure you. And I do apologize for neglecting you your two to five minutes of boredom appeasal for the past few months. Thanks again, C'est for "tagging" me. Sometimes that's what it takes.
(Oh, and by the way, there's a new Yacht Rock.)
5 items in my fridge
1. A single 12 oz. bottle of Lost Coast Downtown Brown ale.
2. Two slices of leftover pepperoni pizza.
3. Leftover Indian food.
4. A variety of fancy olives. Sweet Jesus I love olives. All of them. From the green stuffed fare of mainstream supermarkets to the shriveled black pasty-textured raisin-looking things one pit away from instant tapenade. I eat too many in one sitting, and -- olives being acidic -- it results in abdominal discomfort. Ouch, my guts. I could make love to olives, though. You're delicious, you little fuckers.
5. Old hummus.
5 items in my closet
1. Wearable clothing.
2. Unwearable clothing.
3. A remote control lightswitch. The closet was originally a murphy bed and was repurposed as a large walk-in closet. As there was no existing electronic wiring in there, it appears they installed the light but not a switchbox, instead utilizing this remote control version. For the longest time we thought it was faulty wiring when it stopped working consistently, but then the Ladyfriend investigated and discovered this.
4. Various backpacks and bags.
5. Ancient ski boots.
5 items in my car
1. I
2. don't
3. have
4. a
5. car. Which has truly been a life-changing experience. I never want to own one again. I owned a full-size Dodge Ram van that had an ongoing issue with one misfiring cylinder. No one could fix it, and it was diagnosed incorrectly about a thousand times. I broke down on every highway in the bay area. I broke down on the fucking San Mateo Bridge for fuck's sake. I spent dollar after dollar. Getting rid of it was like having a sword removed from my eye.
5 items in my
1. USB flash drive.
2. Let's Go! Peru guide. The Ladyfriend and I are embarking on a Peruvian trek in less than two weeks. From Lima to Puno to Cusco and a hike to Macchu Piccu. I will eat guinea pig. I will buy a tiny guitar. I will speak rusty Spanish, but it will be so much better than my Chinese was, which is a shame given that we will likely be more on the beaten path this time, surrounded by people who speak some English. But there is one homestay, near lake Titicaca (which at age 31 I still find to be the world's most funny geographical site). Maybe there I can flex the tongue.
3. Combination Lock (for gym).
4. Various pens.
5. Marijuana.
5 people who are now tagged
Respectfully declining. I don't feel I can legitimately tag anyone else, with them being kettles and me being a black pot. I've been rather absent. My blogginess has withered like some sad office plant. I have blog erectile disfunction. I'm like a deadbeat blog dad, off drinking with his buddies in Duluth. I'm a pen with no ink. A slab of marble and no chisel.
What gives? I don't know. Somedays I'm sick of blogs and blogging, and even the word "blog" just makes me cringe a little bit. You can get a free blog anywhere now; American Idol was handing them out (not that I was watching that -- OK I was, but that's another post). They have taken on the sort of crassness I associate with chat rooms. OMG WTF I'm blogging ROFL, and such. Not to mention corporate blogs used as marketing devices; ugh.
But the form has blown up for a reason, a social angle to this so-very-antisocial world of technology. I still visit plenty throughout my day of office drudgery, and all of them I find valuable, and those of close friends/family invaluable, as they offer some proximity in the face of our geographical distance. And I know some of my loved ones enjoy this one for that same reason.
My other more valid excuse is that the muse has just been knocking on other doors lately, namely the musical one. I've spent the past month with a recording of my new band, mixing and mixing again, and with my already existing band, writing and writing. Both of them are on the verge of me finally playing a show again. I am genuinely musically inspired right now, and feel poised to do some of my best and most satisfying work.
I'm considering a change to this blog, actually, given my other pursuits. A sort of clearing house of my life and odd ventures, not limited to these blog postings but with updates on musical projects, the soon-to-be-continued-I-promise Turk and Jim, writing endeavors, photography, everything, basically -- leading to the need for more web space and a memorable domain. Now accepting suggestions. In any case, you four readers will be kept posted, I assure you. And I do apologize for neglecting you your two to five minutes of boredom appeasal for the past few months. Thanks again, C'est for "tagging" me. Sometimes that's what it takes.
(Oh, and by the way, there's a new Yacht Rock.)
posted by exiled midwesterner at 12:07
6 Comments:
Most triumphant!
Whatever you say, Lieutenant Taggert.
matty fred, are you back in MO yet?
No, still in MA. I won't be in MO until AUG.
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