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Saturday, October 26, 2002
Writing with the King
Renewed thanks to the fellow Top Fiver who turned me on to John Hiatt a few years ago. My introduction came back then in the form of Hiatt's Perfectly Good Guitar CD and yesterday I finally spent a gift certificate from last Christmas on some new music, which bounty included -- and why not? -- The Best of John Hiatt. Not only do I now have more of his tunes to wish that I had written, or indeed to make me wish that I could write music at all, but his self-penned liner notes make me envy his prose-writing prowess as well.
Example, for the Perfectly Good Guitar track: I was working out, believe it or not, and they were showing reruns of Nirvana's performance on some awards show. The bass player, Krist Novoselic, hurled his bass skyward and as it came down on his head, I too was struck with the notion that we always hurt the ones we love.
Mr. Hiatt, sir, if you're within the sound of this blog, renewed thanks to you, too. Allow me to buy you some cheese steaks to line your coat with.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
8:38 PM
Here's woofing at you, kid
As I walk to my car every weekday morning I often see a neighbor out walking a golden retriver and a dachshund. The golden, who could easily knock me down and chew my face off, gives me the slightest of glances before going back to her regularly scheduled canine activities. The fraction of a dachshund, on the other hand, always barks at me. Menacingly.
Hey, little doggie, it's cool. You may not realize it, but I'm shorter than most of my fellow adult species members, too. And I bark a lot as a defense mechanism like you do. Only difference is that I aim more for the figurative funny bone than the jugular.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
8:46 PM
Relax, it's only the sky falling
As I was out pushbrooming my terrace dry following this morning's heavy rainfall I heard a sharp crack and felt a stinging sensation on the back of my head. Even though my terrace is about 25 yards from the road and there is heavy foliage on the other side of the street -- an ideal hiding place for an ipersnay -- I feared no evil, for it was but an acorn falling not far from its parent oak tree, joining the dozens of sibling acorns that have been raining down of late on my terrace floor.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
8:36 PM
Up against the wall of sound, motherf*ckers
Forget waiting for the revolution to come; the people who must be eliminated RIGHT NOW are the ones who think that audio pop-up ads on the web are a good idea. There I was just a moment ago, concentrating on some web page edits and listening to music at a sane volume on my PC headphones when one of the pages I had running in the background launched an audio ad that started with a woman yelling "HEY!" at top volume. Right in my ears. It gave me an extremity-numbing scare and I subsequently freaked out my cats by screaming in horror as I clawed the headphones away from my ears. Friends and neighbors, this must stop. In recent days I've been similarly startled by ads with a dog growling and women screaming. The screaming one was for the Hard Day's Night DVD, so I am reluctant to boycott that product. But still. Any advice on how to deal with these weasels would be appreciated.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
6:27 PM
Let me hear your birthday present ringing out
The triangular package propped up against my door on Friday was a surprise. My birthday had been the weekend before (October 5) (thanks) and I had received gifts already from all expected quarters. The telltale package shape said "stringed instrument" to me and a glance at the return address label indicated a purveyor of Russian items, so my guess was that it was a balalaika. Five minutes of tape slicing and unwinding of packing materials later, my guess was confirmed and the donor ended up being my dad. It's lovely - hand painted and everything. The attached picture is from the catalog. I've owned the thing for just a little over 24 hours and already have found that photographing a balalaika is almost as hard as learning to play one.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
5:27 PM
Effing Ipersnay
Living in the DC area is always exciting for one reason or another. The most recent excitement is over an erialsay ipersnay, which situation I understand is the subject of national attention. Knowing what a large area this is I haven't worried overly much about my own safety, yet I found myself debating this morning whether to wear a favorite bright green sweater, especially in light of the fact that I have some grocery shopping to do this afternoon at a store not far from a highway. Hell with him/her; I'm wearing it. But I am surprised at myself and resentful of the ipersnay because I even stopped to think about it.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
1:11 PM
Aside from that, Mr. Benny, how was the concert?
An e-mail chat list correspondent reported the following last Saturday. While I understand the point he wants to make about people who have the audacity to want to make a buck or several million, he leaves me wanting a little more detail about the event he paid so much so grudgingly for. But then I know that you can't always get what you want.
Went to see the Rolling Stones last night. I had just read an article about how the Stones' promoter has made them millions by pressuring stadiums to give them most of the ancillary revenue and paying them only a flat fee by threatening to bypass their cities. Tickets were $90 but I was a bit shocked to see that parking was $25.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
4:16 PM
20% Ashamed of Myself All Over Again
Abhorrent as racial stereotypes and mean-spirited jokes may be to me, my sense of humor jerks its knee of its own accord and I often find funny where it might not be intended. For example, during a sobering tour years ago of Dachau outside of Munich, I couldn't help but shake my head over the irony of the ubiquitous "No Smoking" signs. Similarly, I smirked in spite of myself today at the (I hope) unintentional humor of the subject line of this e-mail advert from Brylane Home: 20% off Asian Bedroom Event.
this piece woven by Sandra Hull @
11:18 PM