so, the oven has to go, the old oven that is, I still need an oven, I need a new one. The old oven still works, it still keeps it temperature pretty good but the dials have lost some of their numbers and…

I went to an appliance store because I didn't like anything at Home Depot or Lowes, when I walked in the receptionist asked if I need a salesperson or if I was just going to look around. I told her that I would just be looking but I would get back to her if I needed a salesperson.

After looking at several makes and models I decided on a thirty inch Kitchen Aide, stainless steel. I went back to the receptionist and told her that I would need a salesperson. She handed me a pager/coaster thing like you get when your waiting for a seat at a restaurant and said "When this goes off come back here." So, I did, after waiting for the thing to go off for thirty minutes or so.

I told the guy what I wanted. We walked over to it and he asked if I had any questions.

"No"

"No questions?"

"Nope"

"It's has convection, the controls are in the front so there is no reaching over the cooktop…"

He mentioned a couple other thing to which I just nodded because I had already spent forty minutes looking at ovens just that day and probably hours in the days prior.

"No questions, huh?"

"Nope"

So we walked over to his desk and he started the paper work. The total came to $2005.40.

"Can I pay cash?" I asked.

"Well, yeah. I suppose you can.…You carry that much cash with you?"

"I do today"

When I know what I want I don't screw about.

I don't wear jewelry. I'm not opposed to jewelry wearing, I just don't think any of it fits me, there have been times when I would have liked to wear something but nothing ever seemed right.

My mom gave me a gold chain for Christmas. All her brothers wear gold chains or at least used to, all the living ones still do.

sometimes, I write on index cards

Christmas morning, I was standing drinking my freshly brewed coffee while I was looking out the kitchen window. I was looking out the window to avoid looking at anything in the torn apart kitchen. Across the street, in the city park, I noticed the crows scavenging.

The crows don't know it's Christmas is what I thought and then I spent the day running gas pipe.

My sister was helping me with something so I took her to lunch. The plan was to take her to my favorite bar and grille but they were closed so we ended up at a towards-the-high-end steak house. My sister was a little apprehensive about the place because we weren't really dressed for it but I said I didn't care what the restaurant thought of me.

"Can I help you?" I was asked.

"Yeah, a table for two."

"In the dining room or at a table by the bar?"

"Wherever. I don't care."

"Well, in the dining room, it's just that we ask that you remove your hat." I was wearing a hat.

"Well, then I guess it's by the bar."

My sister looked even more apprehensive after the sitting arrangement was explained.

"And you know what, normally I would take my hat off but screw him." I said after we were seated and for the rest of the meal we were goofing on the other patrons and the restaurant itself.

I told my sister that I wanted to steal something just to prove they were right about me but there wasn’t much on the table, there was Tabasco Sauce (the green type), a sweetner holder, and the salt and pepper shakers. I chose the Tabasco. My sister chose the stainless steel sweetner holder, that actually was kind of neat. Once lunch was over I said I was to steal a diner plate.

"I'll just shove it down my pants. They probably wouldn't even say anything, they would be like 'Just go', I'll have to point out to them that I'm leaving a big tip. I'll stand up and say 'Hey look, I'm leaving a bunch of money'"

"and yes that is a diner plate down my pants" my sister added.

Molly was our server and she didn't seem to care I was wearing a hat, we received great service, so I did leave a big tip. She caught me goofing with my camera, I was going to do a self portrait because I already got one of my sister, and we ended up talking a little about digital cameras.

Friday seems like a season ago.

I'm on vacation. When I get back I'll hear "Oh, what did you do on vacation?"

And I'll say "Installed kitchen cabinets and a new floor"

And then I'll hear "Oh, that doesn't sound like much fun"

And I'll think "Bite Me"

Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I'm here to answer questions.



My favorite movie and why

"High Noon" is my favorite movie because it reminds me that the world isn't, by default, the fairy land I like to think it or rather think it could be, it never was and will never be.

It reminds me that as a group people suck which in turn reminds me even though it seems I can't change the world, I'm not going to let the world change me.

I like people better as individuals.


My first memory

I don't think I actually remember my first memory first hand any more but I remember the memory, if that makes any sense. There was a time I would say "That's my first memory" and what I remember is me saying that.

Anyway, it was a birthday present I got from my paternal grandmother when I was five. It was one of those PreSkool(?) airplanes with the terminal. I don't remember her giving it to me or me opening it, the memory is of me sitting in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room playing with it.

Melissa had questions

origin of the name green catfish?

Once I decided to start blogging, I figured I would eventually have it hosted under a unique domain name. I didn't want to buy a bunch of domain names so I was going to just buy one for other things I wanted to do and then toss the blog onto it. One of the other endeavors was to make a way for some of the things that get produced from my hobbies to be available for sale on the internet. I was looking around for a domain I could get, that would be easy to remember and that would have a logo that would be easy to produce. I came up with green catfish.

what got you blogging?

I found out about blogs while I was being a smartass and needed the rules of a Yankee Swap and found this guy that had posted the rules on his blog. I followed his links to further links and came across thedetox.com. Angelina got me hooked on reading her blog and then one day she posted something that I wanted to reply to, I sent her an email to which she graciously replied. Then I thought it was unfair of me to be reading her blog and forming opinions when she had no means of finding out about me, so I started blogging. When I started I had no links to anywhere and tried my best to be invisible but someone found my blog and then they sent me an email. My reaction was "holy shit! someone's reading this crap"

favorite kind of music?

I probably have mostly country CD's. I like a lot of stuff. I'm not a big hip/hop or rap fan.

On my iTunes at the day job presently: 3 Doors Down, 4 Non Blondes, Black Eyed Peas, Bruce Robinson, Bruce Springsteen, Chris Knight, Coldplay, Elvis Costello, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Dave Carter with Tracy Grammer, Dire Straits, Emiliana Torrini, Foo Fighters, Fred Eaglesmith, Hoobastank, Hot Apple Pie, James Taylor, John Mellencamp, John Prine, Johnny Cash, Kasey Chambers, Kathleen Edwards, Kevin Welch, Kieran Kane, Kim Richey, Lisa Loeb, Lori McKenna, Los Lobos, Los Lonely Boys, Lyle Lovett, Madeleine Peyroux, Mary Gauthier, Mindy Smith, Montgomery Gentry, Pat Benatar, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Rodney Crowell, Semisonic, Shelby Lynne, Sheryl Crow, Slaid Cleaves, Soundgarden, Steve Earle, Susan Werner, Tood Snider, Van Morrison, Warren Zevon, The White Stripes.

I have the lamest 'sex' dreams

I realized the other day that I've never had a sex dream that had actual sex in it, there has been some nudity but no actual sex and then last night I had a dream about some of the bartenders. The bartenders are all female where I go except for this one guy who I almost never see and he wasn't in the dream.

In the dream they weren't bartenders they were hookers and one of them decided to do me because it was my birthday. The setting seemed to be like that of the HBO series Cathouse. I told the one that was willing to do the deed that I didn't think it was a good idea, it would change the nature of our relationship. I'm not certain what I was doing hanging out at a brothel without having sex but the feeling I got was that I was at that place almost as much as I was at the real bar. Her friend joined the discussion and said I wasn't leaving until I got fucked (her word not mine). I didn't like being told what to do so I was going to resist, but not too much because who resists sex.

I remember more but it gets a little personal something about measurements and stuff and maybe the phrase "maybe five if you're lucky" and then the phrase "get a ruler"

There was still no actual sex just some hurt feelings.

And it was more than five.

Much more than five

...percentage-wise

Q & A

So, I said

I should just open this up to Q&A cause I got nothing.


and Radio had some questions


Q.- King Kong or Godzilla? 9/11 or Columbine? "Kill Bill" or "Titus Andronicus"? Quick one at the footrail, or slow wallow in the back booth?

I feel the same way about "What the fuck, Chuck?"



So, here are the answers.


I would go with King Kong. Kong has more honor. Kong was wronged to a greater extent. I think Kong would walk away from a fight if he could avoid it. Kong's a lover that has to fight. Gozilla sits around waiting for reasons to destroy. Gozilla is a hot head.

I think Columbine was a greater tragedy for the U.S. those kids were our own, just troubled kids and not much has been done to fix that problem. There are a lot more troubled kids out there.

"Titus Andronicus" I haven't seen.

I also like adding "And that's a fact, Jack" to the end of someone else's emphatically made point.

"You leaving?"

"Yeah"

"You're no fun anymore." She pouted as she took my twenty to the cash register. I wanted to ask when was I ever fun but I just sat quiet.

"I won't be working Saturday so you don't have to come in" she said as she returned with my fourteen dollars worth of change. She has tickets to Saturday's football game so she switched her around her schedule.

"Maybe I'll come by and keep Danielle company" I said with a smile.

She slammed the cash down as hard as one can slam paper money "You're not to keep anyone company! …Anyone but me, that is." I was watching her very serious expression. She had been looking down watching while she was forcing the money down because she had to navigate around my soda, the napkin holder and the covered tray of drink condiments. When she looked up, I just laughed. And then she laughed as she broke character. I imagine that she uses her acting skill all the time against her boyfriend.

She then went back to being serious and said that if I came in on Monday, I would be the first to find out what happened at their Christmas party. I've heard some stories of whipped cream and nudity in the past.

I fanned out the two fives and four ones and left half for her.

I just hope she'll be able to remember the party. She likes to drink straight Vodka martinis.

We divided the bill into six equal parts regardless of who got what but we didn't have enough small bills between us to have it work out.

"I owe you five."

"Whatever"

Later, walking down the street he again mentions that he owes me. My friends owe me nothing and he knows this so I said "I usually settle your debts with your wife."

"Oh really? I'll call her right now and tell her" he said as he raised his dialed cell phone to his ear. "Hi, Honey. Timmy said he usually settles my debts with you....Okay, bye."

He didn't tell me what his wife said that night and by the next day he didn't remember the phone call.

Hopefully his wife forgets as well.

since January 18, 2004 over twelve hundred posts

what's that average?

almost two a day?

you would think I had something to say

It was a cloudless night and the stars were bright, too bright, I squinted towards the heavens as if to ask "Can you turn it down a bit?" when I noticed the belt of Orion then I wondered when I learned about constellations and about the other things I may know but can't remember until needed.

I sort of feel like I was pounding Vodka shots all night long. The kind of feeling like I somehow ended up with glass shards in my gut. I wasn't pounding Vodka shots, there were some beers, there was a fine dinner, there was some wine with the fine dinner, there was a cappuccino, there was Italian pastry and there was one Scotch on the rocks.

I wonder if I could cough up blood. I'm not going to try.

At lunch she sold me that she was going to dinner in the little Italy section. I told her I was doing the same. After the Italian pastry and cappuccinos, the four of us that were still around started walking to our favorite bar when we decided to buy lottery tickets, two of us went in the corner store and Dave and I stayed out. I turned around when I heard my name called out.

"Timmy!" she said and then hugged me.

"Hey, Danielle" I said as I smiled my biggest smile.

"Are you drunk?"

"Possibly" She already knew I had at least four beers because she's the one that served them to me.

She then said she was going to the best bakery in the neighborhood for pastry. I told her we had just come from the second best bakery and that we were only there because we wanted to sit down. She was dinning with one of her girlfriends and she was running to the bakery while her friend was using an ATM. I watched her cross the street and disappear into a doorway four buildings down. My friends came out with the scratch tickets. We all scratched. We all lost. I was watching when Danielle came back out with a small box and she yelled her hello to my two friends that had been in the corner store as she was almost running up the street. I looked to where she was running and noticed her friend so then it was my turn yell across the street.

Her friend used to work with her at the bar and grill. She used to let me order things not on the 'specials' menu. We had a quick conversation across the busy street. I had to jog a bit to catch up with my friends. At the bar we ordered three Scotch on the rocks and a Bud Draft. We were served our drinks when I asked if the bartender wanted to join us. She conveyed a message that indicated I should have asked before she poured the drinks so I told her we would wait, and we did. After all the clinking we started drinking.

The other two Scotch drinkers finished first and said their goodbyes, the beer drinker was finishing his beer when my cell phone rang.

"Hey! Where are you?"

"I'm still at the bar."

"Oh, because we just realized that we didn't pay for those drinks."

"Yeah, I noticed. I thought it was kinda cool that you were comfortable enough with our friendship to just to walk out and leave me with the bill, without saying anything."

"We'll catch you later"

"Don't worry about it. I've got it."

We were undercharged for our Christmas spirits

I should just open this up to Q&A cause I got nothing.

I like saying clusterfuck but there aren't too many times when saying that is appropriate.

You are the Justice card. Justice preserves the
harmony of the world. Working with opposite
forces, Justice does not seek to criticize or
condemn but rather to accept. The idea behind
the card justice is that opposite forces are
complementary; you could not have good without
evil or light without darkness. Justice's
position is to make sure that if a thing is out
of balance, the weight of its energy is
realigned with its opposite force. This card is
also a card of humour, for it is in pointing
out contrary positions that humour is often
found. The attitude that is found in the
humourous person, being able to shift
perspective and flow with an instinct, is
important in the maintenance of good balance.
Image from The Blue Moon Tarot Deck.
http://www.themysticeye.com/pics/bluemoon.htm


Which Tarot Card Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

He came in all flustered with hands that were shaking and spewed forth all of his misadventure. It was the same old same old. He should really just relax.

Folks sighing loudly = pet peeve

that kind of sigh you hear when someone is walking back from the networked printer

that kind of sign you hear when someone is lamenting that it's a Tuesday instead of a Friday

that kind of sign you hear when someone thinks they have it bad when they really don't

...

I honestly think my next cube neighbor is insane and I believe his job made him that way.

There is a constant, consistent stream of noise from over the 64.5" partition.

*sigh*
*chewing*
"Hmmph"
*laughing*
"Well"
"Oh man." *sigh* "Damn it"
*that noise folks make when they're stretching* "God help us"
"Mmmm"
"That's no good" said while reading the newspaper.
♫"Well, I can't stop this feeling anymore..." ♫
then his whistles Do-Re-Mi
"Well..."
"Hmmph"

You're the color blue. You have the three c's in
life--you're cool, caring and confident.
Trustworthy and honest, people are naturally
attracted to you. You're unusually optimistic,
but that makes life all the better. You're an
imaginative person who loves sleeping and
dreaming. Hard-working and determined, you
excell in school. You're everybody's favorite,
and this is because you have this undefined
richness in your personality and attitude.
Mild-tempered and stable. Not to mention very
intelligent. Along with the fact that you're
conservative, you're worried about the
environment. So basically, you're a generous,
dependable and devoted--just the kind of person
everybody needs. Wouldn't it be great if
everybody in the world were like you?


What color are you? (Amazingly detailed & accurate--with pics!)
brought to you by Quizilla

My immediate supervisor

"Listen. I've got to ask you. How is that project coming?"

"To tell you the truth, I could finish it today but if I do, then I'll have to start a new project right before vacation."

"Oh. …Okay. …Yeah, don't start anything new before you leave. You're right. I just asked because I wanted to know how you were coming."


Damn right I'm right, I told them the fifteenth and that's when I'll be done. You get no gold stars for finishing early you just get more work. Damn it.

If I start something new now, when I get back the new thing will be two weeks and three days old and nothing on it will be done.


I kinda forget what I used to do before this project.

"What did you do this weekend?"

I smiled and said "I can't remember" after a few moments of trying to remember.

"That's not good" my friend said as he and the bartender both laughed.

"I wasn't drinking. I just don't remember."

"Setting up her tree?" she asked.

"No, that's already up."

"Are you banging her?"

"Not yet"

"Is married?"

"Not anymore"

"How old is she?"

"She's twelve years older than me. Whatever that math is."

"That's old.…So, she just treats you like a husband?"

"Yeah, but just the nagging and the chores part Oh, I remember but they were secret things."

"Things like what?"

"There are things I'm not at liberty to discuss."

I actually could have told them if we were alone, I can trust the both of them to be discreet but there were others about. I worry about others.

I didn't know what I would do but then I never do, even right before it's about to happen. I don't seek out confrontations but I don't shy away from then either.

A friend and I were just hanging out for lunch when another patron came in, he sat at a table. He looked odd, and acted odd, nothing too extreme but it made you wonder about the labels that corresponded to his problems. Drink, mental illness, drugs?

My friend was positioned to watch the guy better than I could and noticed he had a bottle and casually made mention of it to the barkeep. A female regular passed by to casually check the guy out and noticed that his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. The bartender went over and told the guy that drinks from outside weren't allowed. The guy claimed that his bottled beverage was just water, but his bottle carried more than just water so she asked him to leave. He asked for his dollar fifty tip back. She gave him two bucks back.

He took quite awhile to gather his things and then he took his duffle bag, shopping bag and a couple other carried things to the bathroom. My friend and I were already late to return but neither of us was willing to leave the bartender with the strange man in bar, we already settled up so we were just sitting there pretending to watch the sports highlights displayed on the T.V.'s.

My friend decided he would go back which left me to stay. I was talking on my cell phone when another regular, a bartender from a different bar, came in, I knew he could be trusted to prevent any problems so I focused on the problem on my phone, wondering if the person on the other end could her the rock music playing in the background. The background music wasn't bothering me too much because I had a finger in one ear and my phone at the other. A few minutes later the problem customer ascended the stairs and left with all his bundles. I watched the guy leave, and watched his progress past the plate glass windows until he was out of site. I finished my call and then said goodbye.

She quietly said 'Thank you"

she probably saved for over a year to buy the fur she's wearing

she wears the fur because she thinks that white trash doesn't wear furs

I wonder who she thinks she's fooling

it's a cheap fur despite the price she paid for it and anyone familiar with furs knows it

four or more, then there's worry

working downtown sirens no longer mean what they used to

there is always a pause to hear if additional vehicles are joining the first

I was making my way back to my desk when I caught a co-worker's eye. I smiled at him and asked how he was when he asked me how I was in reply.

"I'm great"

"Oh and why are you so happy?"

"I do coke in the bathroom"

I'm loved by all

walking

I guess I was shooting video instead of getting ready to take a photo.

funny can't be forced

she supposed to be funny but i find her humor contrived

she seems to labor at it, maybe because her mother had a reputation for being humorous she feels a need to be a funny.

maybe her timing is off

i was getting more laughs

i tried to politely laugh with her but my pity for her sometimes got in the way

Forget the troubled day

I believe all the causes I have championed have been secondhand.

...

I just gave her my camera. I was going to wait until Christmas but I couldn't think of a reason to wait.

"I bought a new one. You can have it."

One troubled day, her preteen daughter gave hers away. I liked the idea of making her whole.

I casually, matter-of-factly said "Well, maybe if you were a better person" her eyes flashed fire and hate, the room got quiet, and then I just laughed. The room laughed with me, the fire left her eyes as she called me an ass. The hate left a little later.

A friend, that's more actually of a friend of a friend, had three brain tumors removed from his head. He thinks it's time for him to write his memoirs.

I guess he doesn't type or maybe he can't – now, so I was asked to install voice recognition software onto his laptop computer, to make sure every thing was working I trained it to my voice, despite my Boston accent it recognized what I was saying.

I would rather learn to type, though, if that were a possibility.

…

I've forgotten the good stuff for my memoirs.

There are still times I'll read a name in the newspaper, someone accepting some higher position somewhere, and I'll say to myself "Hey, I know them."

…But that was long ago.


…

Someone else told me today that they have never seen me mad.

"I wish I had your demeanor" she said.

I offered no reply.

…

She came in at seven, walked behind that bar and said hello to the other bartenders and before she was completely finished with her greetings she stopped and announced "It smells like a douche in here."

I don't know if she actually made eye contact with the patron that was directly in front of her or not as she was making her statement but he put the cover back on the malt vinegar and started using the ketchup for his fries.

poe tay toe poe tat toe

She called me a liar.

"I'm a performer, an entertainer, a teller of stories."

"You lied"

"When you read a work of fiction, do you call the author a liar? When you watch television do you call the actors liars?"

"Ahh - ya lied" she said with some dismissive hand gesture.

"I'm just an actor in this play of life and the world is my stage" is what I tried to say with a straight face but I cracked up laughing because I was lying but it was for the sake of entertainment.

So, you know it was just a matter of time.

You know I wouldn't go without it.

I was only kidding myself.

We all know that

So, I escaped the office and was working in some public place minding my own business trying not to make eye contact with anyone because I'm hogging a table for four and I'm just a one, when for some reason I glanced up and saw this dude and said to myself "That dude looks like Anti" and I grinned a bit and the dude grinned back.

So, yeah it looked like I was flirting with a dude.

I knew it wasn't Anti because why would anyone from LA fly out to Boston.

We were having coffee just like we usually do, talking about the plans for the day, trying to work out the car situation, guessing the snow totals, planning the Christmas gathering when someone asked what the date was, "December the seventh"

"The seventh? Shit - Pearl Harbor Day"

"And you know what I didn't read anything about it in the papers" is what the only veteran in the group said.

Then we started talking about snow again.

So, there I was stringing lights on a nine foot artificial Christmas tree.

I'm not certain if the Christmas is artificial or if it's just the tree that's fake.

It took about two hours to find the lights, get them to work by replacing bulbs and put them on the tree. She likes the lights a certain way, a way in which the wires aren't too visible. Towards the end I thought "What a waste of time" because in four weeks someone will be undoing all that I've done.

But I wasn't there for me and if left to my own devices I would have been doing much of nothing.

I was told the tree looked great. I said "I think it looks okay."

"I'm going to jump in the shower. Could you just make sure the basement is locked."

"Yup. Just let me check those mouse traps before I forget."

The mouse traps where up stairs in her bedroom, while I was setting them I actual saw the mouse.

So, I got to meet one of the boyfriends before some of her co-workers so I'm being asked about him.

"Is he cute?"

"I wouldn't say he's cute but he's good looking."

"So he's ugly"

"No. It's just that I would say he's more good looking than he is cute."

"Is he hot?"

"Listen, I'm not answering that...but I wanted to do him right there."

I'm kind of in the middle of an experiment.

I like to say that I don't drink because I like drinking but I drink because I like hanging out at the bar and one usually drinks when hanging out at the bar so I drink.

But sometimes, even though I've never actually heard myself say "Boy, would I like a drink" and then go to the bar, I wonder if booze is a factor. I have heard myself say "Boy, would I like a drink" and then grab a bottle of something at the house.

Enjoying a drink is different from drinking.

So, I figure I'll go booze-free for awhile.

But I still go to the bar for lunch.


The fourteenth is a secret Christmas Party (invite only) for the day job and the sixteenth is a nonsecret Christmas Party for the second job. I'm sort of expected to be at the second party cause of my station in life.

During the planning for the first party it was stated to start at the bar, go to eat, then go back to the bar.

"We won't get a seat at the bar then" I said.

"What do you just want to stay at the bar all night?"

I didn't answer. My opinion is known. If the goal is to get screwed up on alcohol, why fuss about with a proper diner interrupting your drinking. We could sit at the bar and be kings, is all I'm saying but we have to be sitting at the bar. We would get even better treatment than usual because usually we're not all there at night. The barkeeps would consider it their mission to get us wrecked.

I suppose a little dining finely would bother me much.

I'm big on tourism.

At twelve thirty, I was the only one to occupy a stool. Jen was serving the drinks, she was a little hung over from the Friday night before so we thought a shot might set her straight. I was drinking Bloody Mary's otherwise.

She said the shot helped. I know mine helped me.

People started to trickle in and a tourist from Milwaukee sat to my left, he was the only one to remain after forty minutes.

"I would like a shot" the guy eventually informed the barkeep.

"A shot of what?"

"Jameson. Would you like one?"

"I only like Vodka"

He didn't want Vodka so he turned to me and asked the same question.

"Sure" was my answer

"Yeah, he'll drink anything" she said as she laughed.

Then there was a discussion about hard liquor and the two others concluded that gin makes people angry.

"I guess I'll stop ordering my gin drinks then" I said.

Then Jen thought for a moment. "I've never seen you angry. Isn't that strange?"

I thought it would have been stranger if she had seen me angry but what I said was "It happens from time to time. Sometimes, you have to get loud to get stuff done."

"I hear you but still I've never seen you angry"

"Maybe later I'll start a fight"

"Yeah. I'd like to see that"

After another Bloody Mary, I ordered a reciprocal shot of Jameson for my out of town friend and asked Jen if she wanted another shot of Vodka. The three of us downed the mismatched shots together.

Later came and it was fight free

My camera still exists. I noticed it on my friend's kitchen table. She wasn't at home. I was there just setting up her Christmas tree. I let myself in the back door.

I miss my camera but I can't think of one instance where I said to myself "I wish I had my camera" in the past two and a half weeks.

I've set up her tree for years, even before she was divorced.

Normally, I would just go and buy another camera but I'm trying to stop pissing money away. I sometimes spend foolishly and you know what they say "a fool and his money are soon parted."

I don't need a camera.


I waste my talents, even the ones I don't know about.


Once for my father's birthday, us kids bought him a Randall knife. They were all custom made back then and the waiting list was eight years or so. It took us awhile to save up the money. We got his name stamped into the blade.

He had a Randall once but lost it when his canoe tipped over. It was either save his pregnant wife or save the knife. He lost his knife.

My mother recently held forth the knife, us kids gifted him so long ago. It was being stored in its leather sheath. The leather ring handle was showing moisture damage, it was opaque white towards the end. She asked if I knew how to fix it. I told her to wet it. She did and the leather rings shown through. I said saddle soap and some oil will fix it and I was about to tell her that it shouldn't be stored in the sheath but before I could she asked if I wanted it. I stifled a 'Hell ya' and just said "Yes" instead.

It's not stored in its leather sheath anymore.

He was the type of guy that didn't fear death. It didn't make him brave.

It did make him bold.

You could see in his eyes that he was ready to fight to the death. You could also see that he recognized no equal. It didn't make him brave.

It did make him bold.

We were drinking. I thought we were just drinking at the same time. She thought we were drinking together.

She told me she wanted to leave her boyfriend after eight years of being together. I was careful with what I said in reply. I didn't want to be on the hook for any new boyfriend duties. Somehow she must have picked up on it because later she said "I'm not looking for a husband I just want to fuck you" I offered no reply.

She started to speak of past relationships and showed me a diamond ring and said something I couldn't quite hear but I gathered she kept the ring as a fine to the one that let her down.

"I've never told that to anyone before" she said as she started to cry. She grabbed my hand. I just kept looking towards the ring trying to give her as much privacy as possible. She found more privacy on my left shoulder as she grabbed my hand tighter.

I listen because I hope some day I'll find someone to trust to hear me

She leaned over the bar and said “I’ve wanted to talk to you but it’s hard to compete with tears.”

It was a slightly awkward situation because I would have rather not been a victim of the tears but when a woman shows you honest tears it something hard to escape unless you have an uncaring heart of stone. I tried to harden mine but she caught me by surprise and by the time I realized what was happening it was too late.

There a certain level of trust that’s expended, a level of trust that’s hard to ignore even if it is alcohol induced. I knew her life left her untrusting and I was a devote advocate of trust. I was trapped by my own morals, there was no escape.

I glanced over my shoulder to the stairs which a lonely woman just descended moments ago making sure she wasn’t returning just that moment “What can you do?” I asked.

“You’re a nice guy.”

“Yeah, There’s no hope for me.”

Then from downstairs, she returned from the lady’s room and continued to literally cry on my shoulder.

There’s a reason she doesn’t order chop suey.

Her mother divorced her father after thirteen years of marriage. She was five the youngest of eight. Three years later another alcoholic feel in love with her mother only her mother wasn’t going to marry another alcoholic. He promised to give up and as far as she knew he did, he never drank in front of her but then he wasn’t always in front of her.

She had a greater attraction to him than any other of her seven siblings maybe because she had less memories of her biological father, maybe because the world hadn’t damaged her trust enough as the others.

One day a request for Chinese food was made and he offered to pick it up. It should have taken twenty minutes but he was late in returning. The head on collision had caused a permanent delay.

To this day she doesn’t eat Chinese food.

So, I got some of the dough I was owed.

It was a slight surprise much like the amount of cash that still resides in my checking account.


"Nice sweater" I looked down to see which sweater I was wearing when she said "I didn't buy that one did I?"

"Nope"

"Nice jacket...although it's looks worn." She had bought me the jacket, black suede.

"I like the worn look."

"I know"

Hi, Melissa.

Yeah, where the hell did I go?


Most of my blogging time comes about due to either boredom or avoidance.

I've slacked off to the point where lately I've needed to haul ass.

Hence there is a lack of blogging time.


Over a week since that last post.


So, here's the update on the novel. I didn't finish it.

I think I got about 16,000 words and then my mind sort of shut down and started to focus on other things.

I decided to read more. I got an urge to read Hemingway. I've never read Hemingway. I still haven't but I will. I picked up a Donald Westlake book entitled 361 and it had a lot of elements that my novel had, the same thing happened with two other books I read.

I put myself on the hook to finish a project by December 15. I picked the 15th because I need to use vacation days before the end of the year or I'll lose them. Vacation starts on the 17th, so that's leaves me two days of grace.

Folks owe me money. Folks don't have money to give me, so I'm not rolling in the cash like usually I am. I want to fix certain things in the house but can't do it without a good amount of cash, like the amount I'm owed.

Sunday night the kitchen faucet decided to spring a leak. Corrosion was the culprit. Home Depot was closed by the time I got there. Faucet fixing wasn't in the plan.

The second job has been getting on my nerves.

I need a haircut.

I still don't have my camera back.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I drank more that I probably should have just so I wouldn't have to share a cab ride home with someone who likes to shove her tongue down my throat. What's the polite way to say "I don't want to sleep with you because I like you're a skank?"

I think she needs to be loved but she settles for fucking. I can't help her with either, or won't.

I can't honestly say I know where my limits are but I know how far I'm willing to go

'click' of the digital kind

Folks think I'm stable so they talk to me when the want that grounded feeling.

I try to keep them fooled.

The owner's adopted daughter is away at a camp that helps problem children.

The owner has my camera, she asked to use it while she was away, she couldn't find hers. She and me have the same identical camera. She gave me one just like hers, one Christmas day.

I let her use it and she asked to keep it until after the holidays. I said "Sure" even though I knew I would miss it. I will most likely end up buying myself a new one.

We were talking last night and it came up that both of us think her daughter most likely gave the owner's camera away to someone, just like her bike, just like her iPod.

I miss my camera.

where I drink

42° 21' 34.45" N x 71° 03'13.32" W


So, there was some overtime involved which caused me to be out of bed before 7AM on a Saturday morning. At 11:15AM I checked the time on my cell phone, I checked because I had just finished all the important stuff and was just about the start 'the-things-that-should-get-done-soon' when the aforementioned cell phone rang.

"Why aren't you working?"

"I am. I'm in the area."

"Well I'm sitting here with Jen."

"I'll be right there."

I was there in three minutes, I looked through the window and saw my buddy sitting at the bar, so I pulled on the door but the door resisted. I knew they weren't opened that early.

The wait staff let me in and I joined my buddy at the bar. The bar was out of Bloody Mary mix and that is what my buddy wanted so hence started a mission.

There were calls and field trips and sending folks on errands, six people that I know of where involved and by 11:40AM, there were two Bloody Mary's made from scratch sitting on the bar.

Those two were followed by two others which came with lunch and then we were cursed when other folks came in and ordered four Bloody Mary's because Bloody Mary's made from scratch are a bitch to make.

and you think you got problems?

So, I was already to go super crazy. Super crazy because folks keep on using my stuff and not returning it. Stuff I need to do my job the way I like to do.

I'm rather particular in my tools.

If I lose pen while I'm out of the office I will go to the nearest office supply store and buy a new one even though I will have a different type of pen in my hand. I want my pen. I've used the same type of pen for over ten years.

Part of my day job has me drawing stuff by hand, like the draftsmen of olden days. I like drawing by hand and I dare say I'm damn good at it, but then there you go, possibly my greatest skill is a talent of dinosaurs, but that's a different gripe.

I was looking for tools and could not find a particular item. I looked twice for it and could not find it. I checked my cluttered desk. I check all my drawers. I could not find it. So, I traveled the office looking for it. I could not find it. I asked around, no one acknowledge taking it.

I did find my missing stapler on the desk of some rat bastard.

So, there I was set to go off, I just needed the proper victim. But I figured that I would check my equipment drawer one last time because the day before I was looking of a different something that someone took and did not return and things got riled up.

I started taking everything out, sitting on my desk. There is a lot of crap in that drawer, crap that I need from time to time.

As you can probably guess, I found what I needed way in the back. It could not have been any further back. So, it was my own damn fault that I couldn't find what I wanted because I was the one that caused it to fall to the back of the drawer and I was the one that didn't look very hard to located it in that same drawer.

So, I'm currently wanting to super crazy on someone because my stapler really had been stolen and the whole episode has brought back to memory all the things that have disappeared over the years, like my smoked forty-five degree ink-riser triangle and my little mag-lite flashlight that I used to help find jammed papers in the copier.

I should be rejoicing that I'm not worried about cancer, joblessness, hunger, sickness, addiction, or any other such thing and that I'm just pissed at losing equipment that costs at most $20.

If someone asked me for twenty bucks, I would probably give it to them, so it's not even a money thing.

I think I need vacation

and it's most likely a vacation from myself

it's all relative

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.6
Mind:	6.5
Body:	5.7
Spirit:	7.5
Friends/Family:	4.2
Love:	6.9
Finance:	6.2
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

sometimes I can't block out the ambient noise

like the guy chewing his apple which is obviously lip smacking good

like that cackle of a laugh the receptionist has when she's laughing at her own unfunny jokes

So, I bought an Ipod and I've been loading it up with my music. I'm up to 1282 songs. I have no video, I have no pictures, features I paid for but will most likely only use on a dare.

It really shouldn't, I should be able to overcome such a thing, but someone chewing with their mouth open drives me insane.

What I have strength for

When was that last post?

Thursday, and then it was only the transcribed lyrics of some song

"I was only kidding when I called them a couple of dicks" that's the line that caused me to type the song.

I don't seem to have the strength to read or write regarding the internet, although I seem to be reading more books now that I'm supposed to be writing one.

I don't want to deal with the ending of my story but I don't want to change it either so the leather chair I bought goes unused.

Alright Guy - Todd Snider

you know just the other morning
I was hanging out at my house
I had that nude book with picture with Madonna naked
I was checking it out
just then a friend of mine came through the door
and said she never pegged me for a scumbag before
she said she never wanted to see me anymore
and I still don't know why
I think I'm an alright guy

I think I'm an alright guy
I just want to live until I gotta to die
I know I ain't perfect but God knows I try
I think I'm an alright guy
I think I'm alright

Now maybe I'm dirty and maybe I smoke a little dope
It ain't like I'm going on TV and tearing up pictures of the Pope
I know I get wild and I know I get drunk
but it ain't like I got a bunch of bodies in my trunk
my old man called me a no good punk
and I still don't know why.

I think I'm an alright guy
I think I'm an alright guy
I just want to live until I gotta to die
I know I ain't perfect but God knows I try
I think I'm an alright guy
I think I'm alright

Just the other night these cops pulled me over outside the bar
They turned on their lights and they ordered me out of my car
Man I was only kidding when I called them a couple of dicks
but still they made me do the stupid human tricks
and now I'm stuck in this jail with a bunch of dumb hicks
and I still don't know why

I think I'm an alright guy
I think I'm an alright guy
I just want to live until I gotta to die
I know I ain't perfect but God knows I try
I think I'm an alright guy
I think I'm alright

we were supposed to be the cream of the crop

...I still don't know what they were growing

In high school...

who was I in high school?

I was the kid that went to the second best high school in the city because he didn't want to go the best high school because he thought those kids were pretentious assholes.

I was the kid that passed on that high school twice when other kids were lying and cheating to get in.

I was the kid third from the top who stopped doing his homework because he couldn't see the point of it, which dropped him to number seven and he couldn't have cared less, and then turned his back on a scholarship.

I was an unpopular kid everyone knew.

I was the kid that was irritated by the cool kids, the geeks, the jocks and that group of girls that always hung out together and spoke evil of everyone.

I was the kid that eventually would just shout out the answers because he was tired of hearing the teacher asking if anybody knew the answer and then get pissed because the teacher should have been calling on individuals if she really wanted to know who was and who wasn't paying attention.

I was the white kid that often hung out with the black kids because there was less pretending in that group.

I'm not saying that I know anything but...

It could have been the shot of Patrón or maybe it was the previous six pints of Bud Light but I don't think alcohol levels had anything to do with it when she asked me what I thought.

Her first mistake was pestering me with the question more than thrice.

Another mistake was thinking I could run an eight and a half inch by eleven inch ad in the same format as a three and one quarter inch by 2 inch ad.

"Of course I have to change it….And to tell you the truth, I'm not digging that font."

I was surprised she knew that fonts don't travel with the document by default.

"You're not digging the font?"

"Nope. It's hard to read."

It was hard to read at 18pt, there was no way it was going to work shrunk down.

"It's hard to read?"

I looked at it again right in front of her and just for a moment.

"Yup" I said as I looked up from the page. "It's hard to read." As if to say, I'm not just making this shit up, I saw the ad and it’s hard to read.


Rule #1 in advertising is that the ad has to catch your eye.

Rule #2 in advertising is that your message has to be conveyed. And in print advertising that most likely means that the words have to be readable.

It's like yelling "Hey." If you don't follow up your 'hey' with something else, folks will look away and now they will be pissed that you disturbed them for no reason.

(Facts and honestly are further down the list.)

...

i voted today

I feel like murder will be attempted today

...

So, I went out to eat with my mom and my two younger sisters and there was this guy in the booth across from us who was warming up a baby's bottle in a glass of hot water.

"I've never seen that before" one sister said.

"I was at the bar and once this guy stepped up next to me and asked for a Bud Light bottle and a glass half full of water, as hot as they could get and he was rather emphatic that the water had to be hot and that the glass had to be half full. So, they served him his beer and as he was drinking, they gave him the water and like out of nowhere he pulled a baby's bottle and placed it in the glass of hot water. So, there he was standing there at the bar warming up his baby's bottle."

"Where do you warm up your baby's bottle?" I was asked from the same sister.

"Down my pants" I said.

To which my other sister said "Come on now, you didn't see that coming?"

they tell me because i'll listen.

i'll listen because i think people need to be listened to

there are times i don't want to hear the problems people tend to tell me.

but such is me

such is mine


I know an old woman who tells the story of how she had to beg for bread just so she could eat a mayonnaise sandwich. She also tells of how her father worked at a candy factory so there was always candy in the house.

I asked her why she didn't trade the candy for food. She had no reply

Happy Election Day

sometimes I refuse to play

affording trust is a gamble

you can win a heart

you can lose a heart

My mind wondered a bit, not totally off the page but to the next column.

Why, one will hardly die for a righteous man
though perhaps for a good man one will dare even to die.

Good trumps righteousness

too many folks go around saying they are more righteous than the next guy.

Fuck that.

Try being good

a nine year old argument

not so many words

you need to save them up

that's what I say when I look in this space

but the words I have don't fit into fiction

so I shove them into pretend


I don't even know what that means. Please tell me if you know.


"The traps have been sprung." I was told as I was staring to check for mice. The nine year old daughter of the owner was basically telling me I was wasting my time.

"By mice?" I asked.

"Yes, by mice."

I didn't believe her and me doubt grew more resolved as she asked "Why do they have to die?"

I never like defending a point of view that I don't wholeheartedly believe but I do it because sometimes it a valid point.

"It isn't a good thing to have mice in the house."

"But why do they have to die?"

"That's the only way I know for sure to get them out of the house."

"Why can't you leave a trail of food to the outside?"

My heart really wasn't in this argument so I didn't even bother to explain that most likely that would draw more critters in. "That wouldn't work"

"It worked for Cody." Cody was her dog. Her dog that was recently hit by a car and died.

I was there because she needed to be watched for the couple of minutes between her grandmother leaving and her mother returning. There were other solutions that could have been realized but offering points and counter points wasn't something on my agenda. I was resolved to do whatever.

Her mother returned after I reset all the traps. "Any mice?"

"Nope" and then I motioned her to the hallway. "I think she's been tripping them" I said and then told her why.

"Probably because I saw her checking under the stove. Well, at least that show she has empathy. He step-father says she has none."

I said I would try to find a different mouse trap.

Holy Shit!

So back in 2004, February 27, I wrote what touché means and then today someone just searched for WHAT DOES TOO-SHAY MEAN AND FRENCH and my site came up.

I feel so helpful.

"So, what's the book about today?"

"It's about the marketing guy that decided that blue would be the color for raspberry. It's entitled I Feel Blue."

.

Posted by: greencatfish.

So, there I was chatting it up with some hot chick from the toniest hotel in the city. She came by because she needed something I could supply, some job related thing. After business was finished, she started a more personal conversation. We've meet maybe six times before over four years, I'm usually not the one that helps her out. Things were slow so, I was in no rush to send her on her way and I was impressed with the level of trust he was affording me. Then I heard "Okay, you've talked enough. Time to go" and it wasn't from a supervisor or some administrator, the noise came from the receptionist. The receptionist is an old, used up busy body that I really don't care for all that much.

I just rolled my eye and shook my head to let her know she should just ignore the voices. She had more she wanted to say and I was willing to listen.

And true I wasn't certain of my motives but when I'm making time with hot chicks, regardless of the reason, I really don't like being disturbed by jealous has beens, that never truly were anything.

I now have about six pounds of candy on my desk.

The bothersome one rummages through the bag like he's looking for lost treasure.


On the flyer, I entitled the event the annual kick ass pizza party then I heard "I don't think you can say ass."

Oh, miss, you don't understand. I can say all sorts of things. Because I'm a writer, damn it.

Well that just got real old real fast. Damn it.

Damn it. Damn it to Hell!



Dude, just leave. I really don't care. I don't care if you're leaving early. I don't care that you're going to meet the wife. I don't care. I just don't care. Just go. Please. Go.



So, there are just minutes of my day left and it's too late to start something new and it's too close to closing to care about finishing anything.

What I would like it do is to yell obscenities at him but he really doesn't know any better.

A life without purpose is a languid, drifting thing; Every day we ought to review our purpose, saying to ourselves: This day let me make a sound beginning, for what we have hitherto done is naught!
- -- Thomas A. Kempis


"...for what we have hitherto done is naught!"

I wish I had the gumption to speak like that

I wish I had the publishing rights to that

So, I was at work last night.

That's it. End of story.

'cause I'm saving it for the book.


"What are you writing a book?"

"Yup. Now just answer the questions. It will get you in the prologue."

"Yup. Now just answer the questions. It will get you in the epilogue."


definitely prologue, just because it has one fewer syllables.


I prefer 'afterword' to 'epilogue'



I wrote out about 1600 words of dialog last night. Now I just have to figure out which direction to send it in, or rather, where to plunk it down.

I really hadn't planned on writing anything last night.


After someone in my family tells a boring story I like to say "I wish I had the publishing rights to that"

After I split the rally, I went for a beer.

It was cold.

It was snowing.

She split her lunch with me as we talked about the old times.


I wonder what the ratio is between me being serious and me being ridiculous.


Cracking wise - that's gots to be in the novel


I used the word ain't the other day in mock conversation and someone corrected me. Dude, I used the word ain't for effect, to dummy down the conversation. Jackass.

'cause I'm a writer damn it.

That makes me laugh. I'm going to use that some day.

"Why? Why?! Because I'm a writer dammit!"

National Novel Writing Month begins tomorrow

So, now I'm a little worried.

I have not done much planning because I don't have a plan.

My hope is that once I start to write things will start to start.

What's absurd is that, I actually talk like that - "start to start" type crap, mostly as a joke because I'm just some sort of joker.

Most of my life I spend as a satirist, or maybe a cynic.

even if the police outnumber you

Don't be afraid of freedom

I signed some petitions to help get things on the ballot but it really wasn't my kind of crowd. They had split their agenda into many issues, I suppose to get a bigger crowd but it just made them look unfocused and ineffective.

I was leaving because my parking meter was about to expire.

"What's going on?" she asked, onced I reached her side of the street.

"Anti-war demonstration"

"But they're wearing riot gear"

With a half laugh I replied "Yeah" as I looked back over my shoulder at all the cops.

The "go figure" was implied.

"You want to stay away from places like that." I don't know if she was talking to me or her small children.

I didn't watch as she walked in a differnet direction.

"You always do good work. What would you do with this?"

First, I wouldn't use that preprinted paper. Second, I know you don't like all my stuff. "What are you going for?"

"Well, I found this font on that computer there which I like and what would you do? Would you do it like this or something like this?"

First, that doesn't answer my question. Second, I really don't want to be bothered with your foolishness. "I still don't know what you're going for? Serious? Casual? How are you passing those things out? What's their purpose?"

"To tell people about the property"

I took a deep breathe "I wouldn't do a block of text like that because no one is going to read that much, it's looks too much to read. I would do the bullet list"

"Only I would have to make it fit."

yeah, no shit

When I run out of things to read, I right.

Sometimes, I don’t no I'm typing errors.

But then sometimes I due.


I want revenge and that is why I'm still waiting.

Waiting to want just justice.


that would be easier to read if I wrote only justice

or maybe justice, only

waiting to want justice, only


Sometime, I like to be difficult. That's why I didn't right it.


I found out that I write 'I' a lot of time when I really want to write 'the'


I've been reading the archives but usually only when I get a hit for some search that I can't figure out how my site showed up.

It's funny when I can't figure out what I was talking about.


I'm that deep


I think I put in all those extra blank lines because that's the pace of my thoughts


I know I said I see the actual written words that I think but I think it's actually the sounds of the words that I see, which explains a lot of my phonically similar errors but I'm not certain how one sees sounds.


Never mind me. I'm just stalling for time.


So, here's the real book idea.

It's going to be a story about some guy who tries to write a book during National Novel Writing Month. The story that the guy tries to write is going to be about a talking bull frog who tries to prevent the crucifixion of Christ because the bull frog thinks it's a waste of a deity. The bull frog thinks that humanity isn't worth it. That's the story within the story. The rest of the story is his buddies giving him a hard time about it once they find out that he's writing a book. The book will be mostly dialog, and I'm going to switch between third and first person just to piss people off.

Well I guess I really won't be pissing the people off that I want to piss off but it's the principle of the thing, that's most important.

And, if I can't get to 50K worth of words with that, I going to make the whole thing a dream sequence for some homeless guy who lives on the street because he's too mentally disturbed to live a conventional live after some trauma that he suffered from some bullshit war. He'll have a dog named Lefty. He'll play the harmonica. He'll piss on the graves of the founding fathers because he'll hold them somewhat responsible for the mess that the United States is in and because it's pretty much guaranteed that you will get busted for pissing on a living Congressman and he rather not get busted for that again. He'll have a politically connected brother who also is a preacher. Somehow, someone is going to catch a possum with a beach towel and a bat with a trout net and someone will be bitten by a ladybug.

"So, what do you want?" she asked as she held a frosty cold pint glass.

I paused and half shrugged my shoulders.

"A ginger ale" the wait staff interjected.

"No! What do you want?"

"Can I have a ginger ale, please?"

later after lunch she got a worried look on her face and then asked "You're not giving up drinking are you?"

I smiled at her concern and replied "I wouldn't want to break your heart. No, I haven't given up drinking"

As I reached in my pocket for cash she said "You're all set"

"But why?"

"Because I like you... and I would have bought you a shot anyway and they're both the same price"

it's a family trait that makes us appear to be foretellers of the future.

"What are you psychic?" is the question that my sister said was asked of her from a coworker.

"No. I just look ahead."

It's not that difficult to guess what is going to be needed if you just watch and listen.

I love it when people tell my funny stories because I find myself hilarious at times but only when someone else is telling the story. Usually, I'm not too impressed with myself.

"That was sooo funny yesterday when you dared Lauren after she threatened to punch you. You were like 'Bring it' and she was like 'I will!' and then you said 'Do it. Do it, then. You're all talk. I've been coming here for years and all I've seen you do is NOTHING. You're all talk.' That was so funny. She was so mad at you."

I was just goofing around. If she had made a move towards me, everyone would have found out just how spry I still am

so, yeah.

I was at the bar.

"Don't you work the second job today?"

"Yup" I said.

"Timmy wants a shot" said someone different.

I got to the second job at 10:30PM. I left the second job at 3:02AM. I arrived back at the second job at 3:18AM because my truck had been towed, which at the time I didn't know for certain. At the time I thought it might have been stolen. I was going to miss my CD's, my poker chips and the six folding chairs, is what I was thinking.

I hardly had to wait for the cab, I guess there isn't too much demand for taxi service between 3 and 4 in the morning. I got to my bed at 4AM. For the following two hours, I did my best to forget that the alarm clock was set for six.

I know something about parking regulations. I was parked legally. It cost me 110 cash dollars to get my truck back.

to my surprise I'm actually reading books on how to write and I love it when I read some of their don'ts, that I actually do, for the same reasons they say don't do it.

because sometimes different is good and screw convention, sometimes.

I also love it when I read some of their do's, that I actually do, for the same reasons they say to do it.

I think I might be learning something.

I don't think I have the same passion for writing as those authors or the regular readers of those authors.

but then I don't really have a strong passion for anything, I guess.

is six days before you start to write a novel the proper time to learn to write a novel?

the answer to that question really doesn't matter because I'm just shooting for 50K worth of words, by hook or by crook, because I have no shame.

there is a line from the movie the Rainmaker where the older brother, Noah, is trying to convince his younger brother, Jim, of something and he's rather persistent in trying to get his younger brother to see his side of the argument when finally Jim says "I see your side, Noah. I'm just not on your side"

so, I haven't any clue.

so, I go to the book store

so, I'm thumbing through books and read stuff like you must have a hero, and your hero must have a flaw and your hero must have a villain and the villain must have at least a small amount of virtue and every sentence has to be action packed and the hero must succeed in the end and remain alive (so there can be a sequel)

and I'm like "screw that"

I'm going to have a lazy ass talking bull frog who fails his mission because he doesn't really care enough to try and dies in the end from unrelated causes.

recent comments

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Thanks, Lisa

Recent Comments

4.25 of quicktime movie

you really shouldn't waste your time with this

bouncy

Suck on this!

what's the polite version of 'Suck on this'? I wondered that yesterday.

so, I was talking about Teddy Atlas

and said he's like a genius that was raised by wolves. you respect what he says but there is no polish to it

honest, my licking is strictly therapeutic

There are some women that will never show up as beautiful in a photograph but they possess such a strong, no make-up, beautifully attractive sex-free sexual energy that causes one to want to try and lick that energy off of them as if it were life giving, soul saving ambrosia

So I'm working on this project that may not actually be hell but it is definitely toasty warm from hell's heat so my big boss pretty much has not said boo to me regarding it because he figures I have it bad enough as it is but my big boss got an email from his wife

Hi Honey,
I work with this PIA. She wanted me to ask you the following: Blah Blah Blah
Please don't kill me.

My big boss forwarded it to me because that my project and added the following.

Tim, please Blah Blah Blah. But you should feel free to Kill my wife. T


so I wrote back

"message received"

which I think is hilarious because it's ambiguous as to whether I'm going to do as he says or that I'm going to kill his wife or neither or both

I hope his wife doesn't end up dead or I may have some explaining to do.

2:42am

I should go home and try to sleep

instead of posting something that ain't so deep


I should go home, I should leave

but there is this nagging like some pet peeve


I gotta write, yes write indeed

but it's sleep not words that I need


I wonder about spelling cause I'm not using spell check

and if you don't like it you can go to spell heck

it was a slow day for everyone, well everyone but me which was odd because usually it's reverse so naturally no one believed me when I said I gotta go.

then I heard "give him another"

She must have seen my heart sink because I wanted to be done. I think she saw because she set a small one in front of me. I would have married her on the spot but there was no justice of the peace so I just casually drank the mug of beer.

Talk of a personal ad materialized. A personal ad in a periodical, rather raunchy. "I can see your ad, all natural" I heard from my friend to the right, to which he added a pose.

"Don't even bother to call" I added.

She laughed, genuinely, as she repeated my words

Then my friend to the right ordered shots of Patron, for he and me.

A line definitely crossed.

A call on the cell "Are you coming back?"

An answer to the extent of - I'll be there in minutes, about three.

I need a new line.

I would just like to say that an 'O' has no flat sides to it

I would also like to say that a 'D' has at least one flat side and possibly three.

So, when you give me the address and write a roundish letter with a flat top and flat on the left side. I'm going with the 'D'

And I'll have no regrets about it.

please learn to write.

In blog years I think I factor as old, from what I hear most blogs don't last a year. In my time blogging I've seen people call it quits. I've seen some people call it quits more than once.

When I find out that a blogger will be stopping their posting, I'm usually silent on the subject. To me starting a blog is a personal matter, so is stopping one, whether I'm a fan of the site or not.

So, I usually will wish them a silent 'good luck, i wish you well' as their latest post grows stale.

today's a little different.

good bye, bing.

good luck

i wish you well

too many people believe what they hear

I was struggling to enjoy the coffee. The coffee itself was rather good but all I wanted to do was to gulp it down as quickly as possible. I really had nothing pressing to do, I just didn't seem to want to sit.

I managed to drink the coffee as a normal coffee loving person would do but then I had trouble sitting watching the football game. The trouble I was having wasn't because my home team was losing, it was because I wanted high speed access to the internet. What I was going to do with the wanted high speed access wasn't known to me but most likely it was blog related.

I left.

When I got to my destination, anything I could scrap together into a post for my own blog really didn't interest me and I didn't seem to have the energy to read a lot of other blogs.

I did read Jamie and how he heard someone say the novel is dead. I read the comments too. The guy who said the novel was dead was holding a novel at the time. If his statement was true, he held the power to breathe a little life into the deadness but he put that power down.

I'm a bigger book buyer than I am a reader. I wouldn't say that I'm an avid reader but I like to read. I'm a big book fan. I like books. I like ink on paper. I like words and I like them written. I think the written word is more infinite than the spoken word. We can read writers from thousands of years ago. We can read voices that have long since fallen silent.

I don't think the novel is dead. I think it's an acquired taste. A taste that is best experienced while calming sitting down to enjoy the meal. A taste that doesn't come with the question of whether or not 'you what fries with that?'

sweet sweet candy

I found out later that she actually put on the candy bra and that "miscellaneous girls were eating the candy off" and whipped cream was involved

.

Posted by: greencatfish.

he's tiny

I knew this fencer whose favorite move was to flick his foil in such a way so that it would quickly bend and hit his opponent in the back. Everybody who fenced the guy knew the move was coming but there was little they could do about until this one fencer started to do the move to him and he was just as defenseless to his own move.

"I was fucked by my own move" is what I remember him saying after he lost the close match.

Recently, I think I was fucked by my own move.

Here mom, here's a book for ya

so, the 50K still doesn't scare me much but the other day the thought of thinking up a title frightened me.

so, title making got me to thinking about books in general - covers, spines, that crap that gets printed on the back, having cafepress print copies, dedication pages, custom dedication pages. How cool is that? Having a book dedicated to you, even if it's a sucky book.

in my younger days, my preacher father would take me along with him to the nursing home where he would visit the old people

i never liked it much, no one likes places like that



sometimes, there would be a sing-along which made me like it even less


i would hear them say that they don't get visits and how they felt forgotten

how they were forgotten

there were times my hate for the place was outweighed by my disdain for those who had forgotten those forgotten

there were times I would be sitting in the crowd listening to my father wondering when he would just wrap it up and I would look around and I would notice some of the old folks sleeping and if there was an orderly sitting near the sleeping ones, they would slowly, almost unperceptively reach out for the wrist and check for a pulse.

"life is but a vapor" is what I thought


chemically speaking there is no difference between a foul stench and a pleasing aroma

How come?

Why do I always see it as losing an argument with myself and not as winning an argument with myself?

I don't know why it's such a sticking point

So, as most of you know most of this space is just some ridiculous self cerebral runoff.

So, this is what been sloshing around.

So, I'm in the shower and within my head I hear "Yes, I know you're not a writer but what about the emails?"

The emails, sometimes folks get emails from me, not often because they do take a little something out of me and also because I never really know how they will be received, I mean well but sometime putting things into words can be tough. Putting things into words and sending them in an email where you can't correct the message when you see a brow furrow can be tricky.

The emails are usually less ridiculous than my blog posts. The emails usually go through quality control. The emails get some thought usually a lot.

"What about the emails I write, you mean?" I answered myself.

I just gave myself a shoulder shrug because I think I got my point, which is actually other's point.

And then I wondered if normal folks often had two distinct voices in their head that often had discussions about a bunch of things and when things get ugly a third voice will try to calm things down. And then, even though, I know all the voices are just me, I thought I should not blog about the voices.

I wonder how much bait I eat

The other day while I was struggling to write a post on why I don't label myself a writer I heard a gnawing noise and looked to my right. And, to my right was a little mouse gnawing at the bait in the mouse trap which I had set. I watched for a moment before I reached for the trap that I knew would not spring. I knew it would not spring because I had just rebaited several traps that were stripped clean by other mice. As I reached for the trap the mouse ran off. I made an adjustment to the trap to make it more sensitive and then placed it back.

After awhile I heard the gnawing noise again because the mouse had returned. I watched a bit waiting for the trap to spring but then I looked away because I really didn't want to witness the mouse trap in actual action but alas it still didn’t spring.

I then thought of the virtue of the mouse. I thought he was brave or was he stupid or naïve or just damn lucky? Anyway, I thought he deserved the meal.

but…

Today's he's dead and such is life. He was just a mouse.

I was already there for awhile when Danielle walked in and Lauren said "Today's Timmy's birthday guess how old he'll be next year"

First I thought the question was unfair because obviously next year is a notable year if it's being pointed out.

"Forty" Danielle said without and any sound of doubt.

"Danielle! You could have at least guessed low" I said with a phony pout.

She then shrugged her shoulders and apologetically said "I did"

Most of what I do is not original content. It's all second hand and rehashed.

Even this which is a mix of classic super hero and old russian propaganda posters sprinkled with cliché surfer dude.

...

I'll quickly tell you what I'm not but I haven't a clue as to what I am.

I can tell you what I do. I can tell you what I can do. I can tell you what I've done. I can tell you who I know. I can tell you where I've been. I can tell you what I believe, or at least what I think I believe

I don't know what it all adds up to, I never have.

I've never known what I wanted to be when I grew up. I still don't and I'm well past grown.

So, I outlasted two groups of friends and was waiting to outlast the last group when Jen squares herself in front of me and asks "Do you want a shot?"

I had been nursing a beer, I really didn't feel like drinking so I really wasn't but I really didn't feel like going home, so I wasn't. I did however, want to try a full shot of Patron Silver.

"How much is a shot of Patron Silver?" I asked

"It doesn't matter because I'm buying it. Is that what you want?"

"I want to know how much it is."

"I'm not telling you. Is that what you want?"

I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to truly know the price no matter who was paying for it but I knew on that night I wasn't going to be told.

"Sure" I said and then watched her ice and then pour a double shot of high priced tequila. She sat it in front of me and I let out a small sigh. I hadn't calculated for a double shot, I was only certain a single shot would keep me upright and barf free so there was a delay while I assessed the damage a double shot was going to do.

"Drink it! …before it gets warm" I was told, first as a command but then feigned concern, after I shot her a look, just as I just determined that I could handle twice the amount of hard liquor as I had previous calculated. I drank it down and looked her in the eye as I placed the quickly emptied glass in front of her. She just shook her head as Danielle told me I was crazy.

After another beer, it was just me and one other friend. He asked what was next. I told him I didn't really care, he could choose but he had no suggestion. I suggested whiskey sours as I explained it's an old man's drink. He didn't care. I asked Jen for two and as she served them she placed a glass of ice water next to my drink and asked it the shot did me in. I told her it did and explained that I really wasn't expecting a double shot. My longest lasting friend of the night then said "I'll take 'Who knows Tim' for $200 dollars, Alex"

My friend's a perceptive smartass.

I know folks disagree with me and I think it's cool that Long Days comes right out and says my working definition of a writer is horseshit. It's cool because it shows a certain amount of trust.

But I dunno.

I don't see the brilliance and I'm not trying to be modest and I'm not looking for compliments or praise.

Technically, by definition, I'm a writer and granted some of my apprehension to take on the label as 'writer' is because there would be added pressure to perform, even if only in my own head. So, the definition lover in me knows that it is indeed all horseshit that I do subscribe to the idea that a writer is more than just one who writes, that there is an artistry to it, that there needs to be at least a passion for writing to be called a writer.

A writer afterall is merely one who writes, period, this I know - but I disagree.

I think part of the reason I disavow being a writer is because I don't see what I do here is on level as those writers I read. There is no real effort contain in this space. I rarely rewrite anything. Everything here is a first draft finished project. To call myself a writer would be disrespectful to the writers I respect, true wordsmiths who forge the written word.

This here is all just me talking to myself, this is all the dialog; replaying of events; and retelling of stories that has always happened within my head since I can remember. I remember a lot in the form of written words, when I memorize things, I memorize them as though they were written on a page. I was asked what somebody's name was the other day and I couldn't remember but I said that it was short, it had four letters, a moment later I said Eric.

All of this is just a transcribed copy of the noise in my head.

I wouldn't label the monks that spent their whole lives making copies of the ancient texts as writers either.

Long Days is correct, I am I writer but I disagree.

So, I read stuff and wrote stuff and I'm without my camera so I can't shot stuff even though at lunch there was an attractive young lady wearing nothing but black bikini bottoms and body makeup in protest of the treatment of circus animals because, after all, the circus is in town.

I did some work. I went to lunch where at least six people who usually don't see me at my lunch place, saw me. A solute to all you folks that saw me, that is what I do at lunch especially on Fridays. Fortunately, they were all doing exactly the same, whatever that may be.

I came back from lunch and found an envelope with cash in it. Monetary compensation for a favor preformed over a week ago. And now here I sit waiting for the clock to do what clocks do only I wish it was doing it a whole lot faster.

You are a Social Moderate (50% permissive) and an... Economic Moderate (41% permissive) You are best described as a: Centrist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

B-ware

I had a high school English teacher who gave an assignment to write a book report on any book of our choosing. His goal was to get us to read. He said that he didn't care what we read because if we got into the habit of reading eventually we would want to read something worth reading. He was asked his believe held true for works of pornography as well. He said it did, he expounded that eventually you would tire of it and read something else.

He fielded a few other questions about books that could be chosen and it basically worked out that if you could write a report about it, the book would qualify.

I did mine on an issue of the She-Hulk comic book. I think I disappointed him, he gave me a B.

holy shit! some titles

I open pickle jar too

So, I was setting mouse traps at the owner's house and a mutual friend of ours was there.

"What about the glue traps?" the mutual friend inquired.

"Then you have a live mouse to deal with and..."

"I know. I know." she said as she started to squirm and wanted to quickly end the conversation.

Then why did you ask?


"There are some at the office, too" the owner told me.

"Yeah, I know. I think some are actually living in that corner of my office where I throw all that old computer stuff I don't want"

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"No, not really, at first when things are all quiet and you catch something moving from the corner of your eye, it startles you but once you know, it's no big deal."

We'll see

I follow the links for the most part, at the very least I'll run the cursor over the link so my browser will tell me where it goes. National Novel Writing Month was one such link.

I thought the premise was interesting, I wished them luck. "Good luck" I said.

Then I thought "50,000 words, in one month, that's a lot" almost dauntingly so but then I thought "you really have no idea how much 50,000 is" and I didn't. So I researched it and found out that it is a lot but not a lot a lot. I thought it was doable for a writer if there was an inkling of inspiration.

"Good luck to them" I thought again only now without dismay at the 50K

Then I made mention of my former ignorance of 50,000 words. And, then some folks said

you can

do it

I thought "Yeah, I could. I could write 50,000 words in one month but I'm not a writer."

But the deal is National Novel Writing Month isn't really for serious writers


Can anyone participate in NaNoWriMo?
No. People who take their writing (and themselves) very seriously should probably go elsewhere. Everyone else, though, is warmly welcomed.

NaNoWriMo is all about the magical power of deadlines. Give someone a goal and a goal-minded community and miracles are bound to happen. Pies will be eaten at amazing rates. Alfalfa will be harvested like never before. And novels will be written in a month.

Lisa restated "that at least everyone has one story in them"


I replied that I don't know what my one story is


And then I thought isn't that what the whole National Novel Writing Month is all about, giving folks a reason to think about their story (or stories) and giving them a reason and a deadline to write them.

So, I signed up, under an alias. Most likely I lessen their winners percentage.

So, I have until the end of the month to figure out a story an then the month of November to write it.

I can almost guarantee that there will be a lot of too's and so's in it.

Damn Mice

We were short on time. She needed supplies for a school project and she needed them today. I was sitting at the bar when she called. I calculated that if the store closed at nine at night we would be alright. If it closed at 8:30, we would be screwed.

We rushed to the store and got there at 8:30, they close at nine. She was still in her soccer uniform, she's number 21. After we gathered most of what we needed she told me to look at her feet. On the left foot was a gold flip flop and on the right was a yellow chinese slipper.

I told her they kinda matched.

I may have lied.

Just to warn you, tomorrow there will most likely be no grand stories of fantastic adventures like I usually provide in this space for tonight I have to set mouse traps and update a webpage, particularly a web page for a house numbered 88.

(you may have guessed that this is just a post to remind me to do stuff)

I have no control over some things

The dung heap is kept by the large industrial fan, please shovel carefully

The shoveler likes to shovel without looking.

I look because the shoveler doesn't.

"More to the left" I suggest, but my suggestion goes unheeded.

There are times I don't know how the shoveler misses the fan.

I duck and look away, expecting the worse but always, so far, I've felt nothing but breeze

...but I still wish they would shovel away from the fan