heat set and un-see worthy
Friday, July 03, 2009
I'm pretty certain that I wouldn't read it.
I started making plans the night before and pushed everything into the next morning and when the next morning came, I basically changed all my plans into making a pot of coffee.
You may think that making a pot of coffee is no big deal but I grind my own beans and use a coffee press so it's a bigger effort then an automatic drip.
The coffee from a coffee press is a different breed of coffee; at first I really didn't like it much, but since, I have acquired a taste for it. I think I mostly stayed with it because I paid over fifty bucks for the press and I would feel like a moron every time I saw the press, if I wasn't using it.
I've still been writing a little but I usually cannot muster enough care to post.
What follows is the stuff that didn't make it to this blog previously. I usually will briefly read over a thing to make certain that it makes some sort of sense but I haven't done that with the words below so if you read it, it is at your own risk.
I would recommend that you stop wasting your life and not read what's below but you should know better than me on how to live your own life.
------
June 29, 2009
I’ve never known what I wanted to do in life. I’ve never really had any long term goals.
I’ve had lots of hobbies, all of which I’ve gotten bored with.
My Dakota truck failed the state emissions test this past Saturday. I guess the check engine light came on and in Massachusetts, you will not pass the state’s emissions test if the check engine light is on. And I knew this before I drove it to the inspection station, the damn little light chose to shine when the inspector turned the ignition.
I’m pretty sure that I just need a tune-up.
I had just fixed the driver’s side window that had been broken since the last time I had it state inspected. I had tired to sneak the fact that the window didn’t roll down or up properly from the inspector but he found out. When he handed me the keys, he said, “You should really get that window fixed.”
I didn’t want to press my luck so I made certain that I fixed the window before I brought it in this year. The trickiest part is usually getting the interior door panel off without busting up any of those clips and finding a way to pop off that retaining ring on the window crank, if you have a window crank. I’m not a fan of power windows, unless I’m trying to roll down the passenger side window from the driver’s side seat, then I think power windows are great.
I’ve got two months to solve the ‘check engine’ light problem before enforcement personnel can ticket me.
…
I believe it has rained in Boston at some time of every day for the past three weeks and we have another week of rain ahead.
------
June 26, 2009
I’m not getting important things done.
I’m missing deadlines.
Most of my problems stem from the fact that I don’t know what time of the month it is. I can tell you what day of the week it is most of the time and I can probably even tell you the date if you ask but for some reason my brain isn’t registering when it’s the beginning, middle or end of the month, which are mostly the time frames I have to hit.
There will be times at the beginning of the month when I’ll have to get something done before the end of the month and I’ll tell myself that I’ll get it done next week and then the next thing I realize is that it’s the 29th or later.
I can’t remember when I did things and I’m confusing jobs when I start to talk about them.
My super brain is letting me down. It’s like my brain has gotten tired of being superior to other brains located in other cubes and has reverted to being average and the average brain can’t effectively handle my everyday work load.
Is workload one word or two words when used like it’s used above?
Come on brain, stop just phoning it in. Pay attention. Get your act together. This stuff shouldn’t be hard. You shouldn’t be making these errors.
I try to be part of the team. I try to not to stand out too much. I try to be like one of the guys. But I don’t try too hard. I like to be on the fringe; one foot in, one foot out; known to everyone but not what you would call popular. But I prefer not to be set too far apart, mostly because some freedom is lost when there are a lot of eyes on you not to mention privacy.
It’s a delicate balance.
Lately, I feel like I’ve been incorporated into the crowd.
I don’t like being in the middle of the crowd but I also don’t make an effort to change my location.
I feel like my soul has given up which would be fine if my spirit was onboard with it but my spirit is wondering why my soul isn’t fighting harder, why it isn’t fighting at all.
I think part of the problem is that I think I will survive, somehow. And survive by just taking it day to day, making no big effort. I may come out permanently damaged or changed but I’ll still be around; I’ll still exist tomorrow to exist for a tomorrow after that.
------
June 25, 2009
So, I’m trying.
But I’m still not doing my best. I’m still not making any great effort.
One thing, that may seem unrelated is that, I’m eating something in the morning and making that first cup of coffee at home. I was hoping for a little bit of an energy boast to get me through the day but I don’t feel more energetic. But I have found that I feel hotter while I’m on the subway; I’m hoping it’s because of a increase in my metabolism.
I’ve lost a pound or two.
It’s a struggle to get out of bed; I have these long debates on when and whether I’m going to toss my feet over the side of the bed.
Isn’t this exciting.
------
June 24, 2009
He’s been complaining about one of our co-workers for years. I sure that he thinks that he has voiced his opinion to the folks in charge and I’m equally sure that the folks in charge don’t know what he’s talking about because when he’s bringing it up: he never mentions any names or jobs or specific issues. He comes off like a scattered-brained bitter crazy man.
Even if he did articulate his complaints properly, the bosses wouldn’t do anything about it. His main complaint is that he works harder than the other guy and he wants the other guy to work as hard as him. The trouble is: that he doesn’t work as hard ad he thinks he does, he refuses to see the benefits he is allowed that others are not, and that he stressed himself out by doing other people’s job and things he just isn’t supposed to do.
We’ve told him for years that making an extra effort goes unrewarded and making no effort at all goes unpunished, so if his work load is bothering him then he should just do those things that he is responsible for and just work his eight hours a day.
For years he has ignored this advice and his stress levels have increased and I no longer make time to casually talk to him because he has been so negative.
Well lately, he has changed his work habits, he comes in late, he disappears for hours and he leaves early.
I want to call him a hypocrite.
Or kick him in his nut sack.
You may think that making a pot of coffee is no big deal but I grind my own beans and use a coffee press so it's a bigger effort then an automatic drip.
The coffee from a coffee press is a different breed of coffee; at first I really didn't like it much, but since, I have acquired a taste for it. I think I mostly stayed with it because I paid over fifty bucks for the press and I would feel like a moron every time I saw the press, if I wasn't using it.
I've still been writing a little but I usually cannot muster enough care to post.
What follows is the stuff that didn't make it to this blog previously. I usually will briefly read over a thing to make certain that it makes some sort of sense but I haven't done that with the words below so if you read it, it is at your own risk.
I would recommend that you stop wasting your life and not read what's below but you should know better than me on how to live your own life.
------
June 29, 2009
I’ve never known what I wanted to do in life. I’ve never really had any long term goals.
I’ve had lots of hobbies, all of which I’ve gotten bored with.
My Dakota truck failed the state emissions test this past Saturday. I guess the check engine light came on and in Massachusetts, you will not pass the state’s emissions test if the check engine light is on. And I knew this before I drove it to the inspection station, the damn little light chose to shine when the inspector turned the ignition.
I’m pretty sure that I just need a tune-up.
I had just fixed the driver’s side window that had been broken since the last time I had it state inspected. I had tired to sneak the fact that the window didn’t roll down or up properly from the inspector but he found out. When he handed me the keys, he said, “You should really get that window fixed.”
I didn’t want to press my luck so I made certain that I fixed the window before I brought it in this year. The trickiest part is usually getting the interior door panel off without busting up any of those clips and finding a way to pop off that retaining ring on the window crank, if you have a window crank. I’m not a fan of power windows, unless I’m trying to roll down the passenger side window from the driver’s side seat, then I think power windows are great.
I’ve got two months to solve the ‘check engine’ light problem before enforcement personnel can ticket me.
…
I believe it has rained in Boston at some time of every day for the past three weeks and we have another week of rain ahead.
------
June 26, 2009
I’m not getting important things done.
I’m missing deadlines.
Most of my problems stem from the fact that I don’t know what time of the month it is. I can tell you what day of the week it is most of the time and I can probably even tell you the date if you ask but for some reason my brain isn’t registering when it’s the beginning, middle or end of the month, which are mostly the time frames I have to hit.
There will be times at the beginning of the month when I’ll have to get something done before the end of the month and I’ll tell myself that I’ll get it done next week and then the next thing I realize is that it’s the 29th or later.
I can’t remember when I did things and I’m confusing jobs when I start to talk about them.
My super brain is letting me down. It’s like my brain has gotten tired of being superior to other brains located in other cubes and has reverted to being average and the average brain can’t effectively handle my everyday work load.
Is workload one word or two words when used like it’s used above?
Come on brain, stop just phoning it in. Pay attention. Get your act together. This stuff shouldn’t be hard. You shouldn’t be making these errors.
I try to be part of the team. I try to not to stand out too much. I try to be like one of the guys. But I don’t try too hard. I like to be on the fringe; one foot in, one foot out; known to everyone but not what you would call popular. But I prefer not to be set too far apart, mostly because some freedom is lost when there are a lot of eyes on you not to mention privacy.
It’s a delicate balance.
Lately, I feel like I’ve been incorporated into the crowd.
I don’t like being in the middle of the crowd but I also don’t make an effort to change my location.
I feel like my soul has given up which would be fine if my spirit was onboard with it but my spirit is wondering why my soul isn’t fighting harder, why it isn’t fighting at all.
I think part of the problem is that I think I will survive, somehow. And survive by just taking it day to day, making no big effort. I may come out permanently damaged or changed but I’ll still be around; I’ll still exist tomorrow to exist for a tomorrow after that.
------
June 25, 2009
So, I’m trying.
But I’m still not doing my best. I’m still not making any great effort.
One thing, that may seem unrelated is that, I’m eating something in the morning and making that first cup of coffee at home. I was hoping for a little bit of an energy boast to get me through the day but I don’t feel more energetic. But I have found that I feel hotter while I’m on the subway; I’m hoping it’s because of a increase in my metabolism.
I’ve lost a pound or two.
It’s a struggle to get out of bed; I have these long debates on when and whether I’m going to toss my feet over the side of the bed.
Isn’t this exciting.
------
June 24, 2009
He’s been complaining about one of our co-workers for years. I sure that he thinks that he has voiced his opinion to the folks in charge and I’m equally sure that the folks in charge don’t know what he’s talking about because when he’s bringing it up: he never mentions any names or jobs or specific issues. He comes off like a scattered-brained bitter crazy man.
Even if he did articulate his complaints properly, the bosses wouldn’t do anything about it. His main complaint is that he works harder than the other guy and he wants the other guy to work as hard as him. The trouble is: that he doesn’t work as hard ad he thinks he does, he refuses to see the benefits he is allowed that others are not, and that he stressed himself out by doing other people’s job and things he just isn’t supposed to do.
We’ve told him for years that making an extra effort goes unrewarded and making no effort at all goes unpunished, so if his work load is bothering him then he should just do those things that he is responsible for and just work his eight hours a day.
For years he has ignored this advice and his stress levels have increased and I no longer make time to casually talk to him because he has been so negative.
Well lately, he has changed his work habits, he comes in late, he disappears for hours and he leaves early.
I want to call him a hypocrite.
Or kick him in his nut sack.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
There is Mexico and then there is Mexico
“That’ll cause a commotion,” is what she said when we were walking away.
I didn’t know what she was talking about. We had just got off the shuttle bus at the airport and she talked to some of her co-workers, that she has only ever talk to over the phone. It seemed like normal network building chatter. Prior to that, the reason we were at the airport was because we were seeing her daughter off to Mexico. We were part of a group of parents and family members also seeing off about six loved ones, south to Oaxaca.
I just remained quite as I was trying to figure out what the heck was going to cause a commotion then she added. “They’ll be asking: Is she married to a white dude?”
...
One of the teacher going on the trip asked if I had ever been to Mexico. I said, "Well, Cancun," and finished with a shrug. "Yes, I guess that really isn't Mexico," responded.
I didn’t know what she was talking about. We had just got off the shuttle bus at the airport and she talked to some of her co-workers, that she has only ever talk to over the phone. It seemed like normal network building chatter. Prior to that, the reason we were at the airport was because we were seeing her daughter off to Mexico. We were part of a group of parents and family members also seeing off about six loved ones, south to Oaxaca.
I just remained quite as I was trying to figure out what the heck was going to cause a commotion then she added. “They’ll be asking: Is she married to a white dude?”
...
One of the teacher going on the trip asked if I had ever been to Mexico. I said, "Well, Cancun," and finished with a shrug. "Yes, I guess that really isn't Mexico," responded.
Monday, June 22, 2009
For colon lover's eyes only.
I'm probably clinically depressed but I mostly feel just unmotivated. I think I need: a kick in the ass.
My plan was to: stuff the chicken breasts, and then set a toilet. But after cutting the rib cages out of ten chicken breasts and stuffing them which included tying them; I felt like doing nothing.
I somehow ended up blowing bubbles in the front yard with my nieces and then I grabbed my camera.
A picture's worth a thousand words or so they say; but as the internet has proven: you can have a thousand words and not have a story. You can have ten hundred words and still not tell a tale.
I was sitting here, avoiding work around the house and remembered that I had taken some photos; even with an LCD screen, you still don't know what you've got until you download them. Looking at what I had I thought: "I can post some of these," but then I thought: "Who cares about my nieces?" I asked myself: "Would I look at these if they weren't blood?"
Yeah, I would. Especially the last one.
neices01
In the front lawn I have a Japanese Maple tree. They tend to grow into a bush-like shape and I like to prune it into a tree-like shape. It's about four and a half feet tall at its highest. It is kind of cool being under it.
neices02
For years, I've used the mulching feature on my mowers when cutting the lawn, mostly so I wouldn't have to rake or deal with the trimmings but lately, since I have a compost bin, I've been using the bagging feature and keeping the grass taller. Tall grass is better for playing in.
neices03
For the city; it's a large front lawn
neices04
I think, posing often looks unnatural and that's why I don't ask people to pose but sometimes they just pose all on their own and I feel obligated to snap a shot.
neices05
Not posed.
My plan was to: stuff the chicken breasts, and then set a toilet. But after cutting the rib cages out of ten chicken breasts and stuffing them which included tying them; I felt like doing nothing.
I somehow ended up blowing bubbles in the front yard with my nieces and then I grabbed my camera.
A picture's worth a thousand words or so they say; but as the internet has proven: you can have a thousand words and not have a story. You can have ten hundred words and still not tell a tale.
I was sitting here, avoiding work around the house and remembered that I had taken some photos; even with an LCD screen, you still don't know what you've got until you download them. Looking at what I had I thought: "I can post some of these," but then I thought: "Who cares about my nieces?" I asked myself: "Would I look at these if they weren't blood?"
Yeah, I would. Especially the last one.
neices01
In the front lawn I have a Japanese Maple tree. They tend to grow into a bush-like shape and I like to prune it into a tree-like shape. It's about four and a half feet tall at its highest. It is kind of cool being under it.
neices02
For years, I've used the mulching feature on my mowers when cutting the lawn, mostly so I wouldn't have to rake or deal with the trimmings but lately, since I have a compost bin, I've been using the bagging feature and keeping the grass taller. Tall grass is better for playing in.
neices03
For the city; it's a large front lawn
neices04
I think, posing often looks unnatural and that's why I don't ask people to pose but sometimes they just pose all on their own and I feel obligated to snap a shot.
neices05
Not posed.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I'll start to think about posting and then I'll think about all the other things that I should be doing besides posting
I think a lot of things in life can be overcome simply by hanging on and outlasting whatever it is. I do believe that more often or not that this too shall pass. But there are those things which you have to more than just wait it out; there are those things I which you have to fight against, there are those things that you must conquer.
That’s where I am.
I can no longer just breeze by waiting until my dilemma is something that can be seen in the rearview mirror.
So, that’s where some of my energy and effort has been. It’s been there and not here.
That’s where I am.
I can no longer just breeze by waiting until my dilemma is something that can be seen in the rearview mirror.
So, that’s where some of my energy and effort has been. It’s been there and not here.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
It's quiet
My TV has no picture anymore. It sort of flickered then sputtered and then died. There was a flash of green at the end.
It was about eleven years old is my guess.
...
The article suggested that the villagers stock up on tiger urine to keep the elephants away.
I would rather take my chances with a killer elephant than trying to obtain tiger urine.
...
I'm brining a chicken.
It was about eleven years old is my guess.
...
The article suggested that the villagers stock up on tiger urine to keep the elephants away.
I would rather take my chances with a killer elephant than trying to obtain tiger urine.
...
I'm brining a chicken.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
x-ray eyes
I had been stopped for maybe a minute and a half; I had pulled over to write some notes, when someone knocked on my passenger side window. My government car is marked so I get a lot of questions and a lot of complaints. The lady told me two statements and at first I didn’t reply because I had nothing to add but the silence got awkward so I said, as friendly as I could, “And?” to which she told me her concern; and then interrupting herself she said, “You have wonderful eyes. They look like you can see right through me. Can you see right through me?”
I looked her in the eyes trying to at least see her to her soul but my sight seemed to stop right at the surface of her dark brown eyes. I replied that I couldn’t see through her and I added that I wasn’t in her neighborhood for the reason that caused her concern.
I found her statement surprising because I frequently feel that my eyes have worked just opposite of her impression.
I looked her in the eyes trying to at least see her to her soul but my sight seemed to stop right at the surface of her dark brown eyes. I replied that I couldn’t see through her and I added that I wasn’t in her neighborhood for the reason that caused her concern.
I found her statement surprising because I frequently feel that my eyes have worked just opposite of her impression.
Sunday, June 07, 2009
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Thursday, June 04, 2009
I was mostly just wasting time. I wasn't really being a creep.
From my kitchen window to the tennis courts across the street is a distance of about 200 feet. I couldn’t see the young brunette as well as I liked, so I grabbed my camera aimed it across the street as I lightly pressed the shutter button which caused the 75-300mm auto focus lens to turn into focus onto the chain-link fence.
I thought, “Hmmm” because I hadn’t turned the camera on which I thought was an odd revelation because why would I try to get the camera to auto focus when at some level I knew that I hadn’t turned the camera on? It seemed that I was expecting the camera to do nothing and I was surprised when it actually did something. I then tried to remember when it was that I last used the digital SLR and had obviously left the thing on.
It was a least two months prior.
I don’t think the tennis player was the regular that I had thought she might have been.
I thought, “Hmmm” because I hadn’t turned the camera on which I thought was an odd revelation because why would I try to get the camera to auto focus when at some level I knew that I hadn’t turned the camera on? It seemed that I was expecting the camera to do nothing and I was surprised when it actually did something. I then tried to remember when it was that I last used the digital SLR and had obviously left the thing on.
It was a least two months prior.
I don’t think the tennis player was the regular that I had thought she might have been.
Foreign Films
I wonder where the cultural divides are that cause someone to say: Oye, Oh or Aye, when they are being drilled up the ass.
Strangely, to me anyway, is that I kind of miss the writing
Strangely, to me anyway.
…
Things haven’t been just falling into place. I’ve actually have had to nudge things into place and sometimes I have had to actually make an effort to be successful.
It has been sometimes not dissimilar to work.
Everything seems to be an effort lately.
…
They were walking side by side down the stairway not leaving any room for someone to walk up the stairs. He was a well dressed white guy in his late twenties. She was an attractive Asian woman of the same age. They were kind of close to the last step so I stood flat footed on the right side at the bottom. I felt that they guy heading towards me should realize that this particular staircase, in this particular subway station wasn’t for his sole use. But to his arrogant, poppas credit, he didn’t give me space. And to my self-righteous, city-punk credit, I shoulder checked him a bit which cause him to change direction.
I thought of all the snide things that I could have said but nothing productive would have come from a verbal exchange, so I just ascended the stairs.
…
I still don’t feel the need to post but then I’m not certain that I ever did. I wonder why I have posted so many times for so many years. I think I might find a partial answer in my archives but I have no desire to read them.
Lately, I have so little desire.
There is still a good bit of lust though.
Actually, that’s not true; the lust is waning as well.
…
Things haven’t been just falling into place. I’ve actually have had to nudge things into place and sometimes I have had to actually make an effort to be successful.
It has been sometimes not dissimilar to work.
Everything seems to be an effort lately.
…
They were walking side by side down the stairway not leaving any room for someone to walk up the stairs. He was a well dressed white guy in his late twenties. She was an attractive Asian woman of the same age. They were kind of close to the last step so I stood flat footed on the right side at the bottom. I felt that they guy heading towards me should realize that this particular staircase, in this particular subway station wasn’t for his sole use. But to his arrogant, poppas credit, he didn’t give me space. And to my self-righteous, city-punk credit, I shoulder checked him a bit which cause him to change direction.
I thought of all the snide things that I could have said but nothing productive would have come from a verbal exchange, so I just ascended the stairs.
…
I still don’t feel the need to post but then I’m not certain that I ever did. I wonder why I have posted so many times for so many years. I think I might find a partial answer in my archives but I have no desire to read them.
Lately, I have so little desire.
There is still a good bit of lust though.
Actually, that’s not true; the lust is waning as well.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
I still feel as I have nothing to say
I still feel as I have nothing to say but if I go too long without saying something: I think that's rude.
Friday was the same old same old but different. I was still at the bar but I didn't start with Bud Light and I didn't finish with vodka. Things seemed slightly off for most of the day, so I just went with it after work and ordered a Bass Ale followed by Margaritas followed by a few glasses of Scotch.
The guy that was sitting next to me, move so that I could continued my conversation with an off-duty bartender. We were sitting at the short end of the "L" shaped bar. From this short end, one can get a full length backside view of whoever is pouring a draft beer. One can also sometimes get a peek down a blouse from time to time when the button on the dishwasher is being pressed.
I usually sit at the opposite end of the bar, but for my last few visits, I've been stuck at the short end. The off-duty bartender turned to me and said, "You can really check out the bartenders from here." I said, "Yeah, but it's like checking out my cousin or something." We talked for awhile longer and then she left with the bartenders that had just gotten off duty.
I left and bought a box of Godiva Chocolates and then walked backed. I handed the golden bag across the bar to Kim.
Two week prior I ended up sitting at a table with some distant co-workers and one of those distant co-workers knows that I get tired of beer and asked when "The Timmy Specials" would start flowing. It had to be explained to some that a "Timmy Special" is a vodka based drink that is usually served in a pint glass. I only order them from the bar because they are especial to me and not every bartender knows the secret formula, but we ordered them through our waitress and after some discussion at the bar, Kim sent the drinks over in pint glasses.
The folks at the table liked them, so they ordered a second round but only one of them came in a pint glass and it was explained that only Timmy get Timmy Specials in pint glasses.
I felt that Kim did me and my friends a favor and that she might have been spoken to by one of the managers so she got a box of premium chocolates as a thank you.
I had left and was walking to the subway station when I heard someone call my name. It was the bartender that was sitting next to me earlier, she was calling me in to a different bar for a drink. I sat at at her table which included the two other bartenders she had left with and a guy I know from the bar, named Nick, and one of his female friends.
Nick was asking for someone to do a shot with him, everyone refused and then one of the bartenders volunteered me. I wouldn't say that we're friends but I've done shots with Nick before, we both like Patron, so I joined him in a shot. Nick left soon after that and we watched him stumble a bit as he made his way across the street. Someone at the table mentioned that he had just lost his job that day. It was also mentioned that he is sometimes a jerk, particularly when he's drunk.
I then felt a little bit guilty that I let him buy me a shot. I also felt that the recession was getting that much closer to me.
And I reassured myself that I was pretty sure that the bartenders don't call me a jerk behind my back.
Friday was the same old same old but different. I was still at the bar but I didn't start with Bud Light and I didn't finish with vodka. Things seemed slightly off for most of the day, so I just went with it after work and ordered a Bass Ale followed by Margaritas followed by a few glasses of Scotch.
The guy that was sitting next to me, move so that I could continued my conversation with an off-duty bartender. We were sitting at the short end of the "L" shaped bar. From this short end, one can get a full length backside view of whoever is pouring a draft beer. One can also sometimes get a peek down a blouse from time to time when the button on the dishwasher is being pressed.
I usually sit at the opposite end of the bar, but for my last few visits, I've been stuck at the short end. The off-duty bartender turned to me and said, "You can really check out the bartenders from here." I said, "Yeah, but it's like checking out my cousin or something." We talked for awhile longer and then she left with the bartenders that had just gotten off duty.
I left and bought a box of Godiva Chocolates and then walked backed. I handed the golden bag across the bar to Kim.
Two week prior I ended up sitting at a table with some distant co-workers and one of those distant co-workers knows that I get tired of beer and asked when "The Timmy Specials" would start flowing. It had to be explained to some that a "Timmy Special" is a vodka based drink that is usually served in a pint glass. I only order them from the bar because they are especial to me and not every bartender knows the secret formula, but we ordered them through our waitress and after some discussion at the bar, Kim sent the drinks over in pint glasses.
The folks at the table liked them, so they ordered a second round but only one of them came in a pint glass and it was explained that only Timmy get Timmy Specials in pint glasses.
I felt that Kim did me and my friends a favor and that she might have been spoken to by one of the managers so she got a box of premium chocolates as a thank you.
I had left and was walking to the subway station when I heard someone call my name. It was the bartender that was sitting next to me earlier, she was calling me in to a different bar for a drink. I sat at at her table which included the two other bartenders she had left with and a guy I know from the bar, named Nick, and one of his female friends.
Nick was asking for someone to do a shot with him, everyone refused and then one of the bartenders volunteered me. I wouldn't say that we're friends but I've done shots with Nick before, we both like Patron, so I joined him in a shot. Nick left soon after that and we watched him stumble a bit as he made his way across the street. Someone at the table mentioned that he had just lost his job that day. It was also mentioned that he is sometimes a jerk, particularly when he's drunk.
I then felt a little bit guilty that I let him buy me a shot. I also felt that the recession was getting that much closer to me.
And I reassured myself that I was pretty sure that the bartenders don't call me a jerk behind my back.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
not all rice is equal.
I've never had risotto so I won't know if it will be good risotto when I make it.
...
It was grilled chicken, onions, peppers and squash, all over rice. It was served on a blazing hot cast iron fajita pan.
She said, "Rice makes me happy".
...
It was grilled chicken, onions, peppers and squash, all over rice. It was served on a blazing hot cast iron fajita pan.
She said, "Rice makes me happy".
No cats or raccoons?
He was like bugging me on it.
I was like, "Dude" but I went and as I predicted three days stuck in a training seminar backed up my workload. My workload nowadays has deadline that fall within days, even sometimes minutes, as opposed to weeks. My deadlines used to be to get things done before "the season was over," but now, like earlier today, I had fifteen minutes to get the thing off my desk and that's with the phone ringing and people shouting questions at me.
Yelling over a cubicle is a pet peeve of mine. But that's what happens when you're the go to guy and everyone has an emergency.
And as I was faxing the thing away, I got a call requesting a change in the order.
Such is life. I'm sure most people have survived through stuff not dissimilar.
I knew he was on his way out. I knew there wouldn't be too many more photo opportunities.
I was inside the full panel glass double doors as he was sitting in a sled. The sled gathers rain water which he always seemed to enjoy. I knew if I stepped outside that he would come to visit me and ruin the shot I wanted.
I think he was ready to go. Surprisingly he caught two rather large mice the day before and he's never been much of a mouser.
Two weeks later, as I was walking up the drive, not being greeted by the household cat, I thought about how long he had been around. I thought, "He came from the old house". I thought, "He knew my father".
And then I thought about how people fade from memory, fade from history, like they never existed.
I sometimes feel like I'm exploiting situations with my camera.
I forget the name of the show I was watching and I forget the name of the guy who said, "Taking a photo is sending that precise moment into the future," which I thought was interesting because I always think of photography as the past.
I was like, "Dude" but I went and as I predicted three days stuck in a training seminar backed up my workload. My workload nowadays has deadline that fall within days, even sometimes minutes, as opposed to weeks. My deadlines used to be to get things done before "the season was over," but now, like earlier today, I had fifteen minutes to get the thing off my desk and that's with the phone ringing and people shouting questions at me.
Yelling over a cubicle is a pet peeve of mine. But that's what happens when you're the go to guy and everyone has an emergency.
And as I was faxing the thing away, I got a call requesting a change in the order.
Such is life. I'm sure most people have survived through stuff not dissimilar.
I knew he was on his way out. I knew there wouldn't be too many more photo opportunities.
I was inside the full panel glass double doors as he was sitting in a sled. The sled gathers rain water which he always seemed to enjoy. I knew if I stepped outside that he would come to visit me and ruin the shot I wanted.
I think he was ready to go. Surprisingly he caught two rather large mice the day before and he's never been much of a mouser.
Two weeks later, as I was walking up the drive, not being greeted by the household cat, I thought about how long he had been around. I thought, "He came from the old house". I thought, "He knew my father".
And then I thought about how people fade from memory, fade from history, like they never existed.
I sometimes feel like I'm exploiting situations with my camera.
I forget the name of the show I was watching and I forget the name of the guy who said, "Taking a photo is sending that precise moment into the future," which I thought was interesting because I always think of photography as the past.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
-
He was missing for three days. He was seventeen years old.
Here's a roof update. I know it has been keeping you up at night.
He was missing for three days. He was seventeen years old.
Here's a roof update. I know it has been keeping you up at night.
