Rough sex with the corpse of Linus Pauling

Pillow talk about vitamin C and peace. This will be my last post of your year-mine will end only next tuesday, on my 31st birthday. My calendar trumps Gregor's, anyday.

I'll be out tonight, wandering the streets and playing with my knife-of-the-mind. Good to keep sharp, but given blades' recent betrayal, it wouldn't be surprising to find my closest edge blunted-or broken-by tonight's attempt to whet it newly sharp. Been years since I did this. I'm all old friends and nadirs lately.

There are any number of you I hope to see tonight-I'll say hi, really. Those of you I don't...I miss you, and I'll miss you more come midnight. Happy New Year.

Wintermute

I have vivid memories of my youth in Idaho and Eastern Washington-deep snow, parka-d up. The sunlight bright against the snow covered hills. Sledding, ice, snow days. Real cold. The frozen creek behind my house when I was 6 and the kid down the street fell through, even as we were all so careful to step where it was thick.

I remember the clear, moonless night in Ohio. Empty sky filled with stars. Almost naked, and alone in my head, I sat and spoke only to her. 'Till my lips went blue.

I never complained, for years. Everyone else hated it, all grey and cold and wet. I loved it with its quiet and its clean and the clear streets. We had a comfortable relationship.

Last year, after night after night of rides in the cold, cold night, I stared up at the moon(which was bright and blue against my rodsandcones exactly the way the cold air was against my skin), and broke up with winter. I don't remember what I said, but it was final, and not friendly.

I never used to get cold. I feel bad about that, but I suppose that's how it goes.

This morning, I woke to a break in the sky and a half-moon (philodox) like a grin. I rode in the sunrise, and it began to rain only as soon as I got to work. She did me a favor. I'd like to think that while we're not close anymore, maybe we're back on speaking terms, the winter and I.

If Eyebrows were Werewolves...

I don't know how it would turn out. On the one hand, Preston's have youth on their side, and a certain razor-sharp grace(like a slicer). This guy's, though, are altogether more weathered, more seasoned-salt and pepper, don't you know. Be tough to call, I reckon.

Up in the dark, home in the dark. This is a silly way to make a living. Fun though, regardless. There's nothing quite so satisfying as my friend's dulcet tones as she curses me out for waking her. It snowed this morning.

Snapshots

I had a fine 24 hours post-solstice. Lots of company and companions, family and friends. Two sets of cousins, both out of California and passing through. Given that my extended family's one-sided, like a poorly counterfeited coin, that much family talk's about 75% of my Recommended Yearly Allowance.

Lots of coworkers out for one's musical ambitions (quoth verthandi-is there anyone in the deli who's not in a band?) and I got to see more of them (you) out in public than I have in a long time. Good.

Had a long, hard conversation with the last person I expected, and took away that warm feeling I get when I listen well. Set my face to "bake", and soon I'll take that one last deep breath before making bread bread bread bread...and maybe some cookies. I like to bake, don't like being a baker. Can't trust bakers, I always say. They can't even get a dozen right.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

My couch, sans hobo

I just watched the Mclaughlin Group...I know, I know, it's ridiculous. But I am topical, political, attentive. And let's face it, ridiculous can be entertaining. But so I'm watching it, and for god's sake, John Mclaughlin was wearing a PLAID SUIT, and they were doing their year-end show, and when Pat Fucking Buchanan called Mclaughlin out on global warming by quoting Pope Benedict, the rest of the panel cracked up like he'd quoted the Tooth Fairy. I swear, seeing uptight, middle-american ordinary people so obviously irreverent about religion is...odd, to say the least. I's speaking to Dave, as he's the most irreligious person I know and has been a window into the burgeoning atheist movement I see all the time online. Plus, he's out at the moment, and this provides me the most convenient method of communication. AND...if you ever thought, Dawid, that you didn't fit in in Eugene, check this out. 'Night.

Condiments on the walls

I was prepping limes for guacamole, a confection for which I am renowned in certain circles...anyway, the lime in question had a weak wall and my trust in it's rind's strength was misplaced in that particular wall...as it was weak, you understand. The wall was.

So my knife, my shank, which I do keep quite sharp but is in fact, pointless, penetrated the aforementioned weak wall, and sliced deep into the meat of my thumb. Not the pad, and not the ball, which to me always seemed a bit like the meat of a chicken leg, should we ever resort to cannibalism and we become cuisine. The bit between those parts, the space between knuckle and palm...only perhaps an inch across I sliced, but deep enough to see muscle and artery and sacs of glistening fat like grapes. I felt it immediately, not pain but a sensation of tearing and damage that was...intense, to say the least. I flung my hand instinctively away from the food I was preparing (showering the rest of the area with dram after dram of my blood. Oops.) and over the hand sink in the corner. I put pressure on it, looked at it (ew) and told my boss that I felt as though my day was over.

Trip to the hospital, trip to the Care that's Urgent. Quick too, less than an hour in and out...which for Urgent Care is a tiny miracle, 'specially that time of day. I've always said, I lead a charmed life. Only 4 stitches, not much to look at...but it was harrowing, in its own weird way, and was a surprise. I like surprises. The kind I can walk away from.

Surprises

Used to be, knots and their tying were and integral part of daily life. Cities like Manila traded on the quality and value of their cordage, and even ordinary people had a familiarity and facility with knots that has long since become obsolete. This is what I thought about, as the doctor stitched up my hand with practiced, almost bored efficiency, and I gave thanks for the strange skills that persist long after we've abandoned them.

My ancestors, side by side with yours, spent centuries honing long dead skills, constructing notion by notion and stone by stone the safe, comfortable, modern world that gives me the luxury of my own selfishness. My petulant, childish moods and my arrogant navel-gazing uniqueitude. It's thanks to them that the World that doesn't owe me anything consists not of the ravages of the elements, beasts of the earth, or the horrors of plague. My World is instead the artifacts and machinations of you, Everybody Else. And you are just as implacable and inevitable as storms and leopards, and I'd do well to remember that. Started thinking the World owed me something...had to remember how to get around that.

The sky was beautiful today, and if I haven't said it lately, I do love you all.

Freedom Toast

What I had for dinner tonight...

French Toast (free challah from the Capella)
Bacon
Sauteed apples
Fried egg
Manchego Cheese, grated fine on top of all of the above, and broiled to a melty crust.

Offensive Hat Trick

I pay a lot of attention to ads. Between working in market research and a certain proprietary interest in storytelling, I find myself deconstructing all sorts of tv spots and web ads-who they're aimed at, what they're trying to say, and so forth. And ads are one of the few popular creative outlets left at this point, a place for people who are imaginative to make money and get their ideas seen. So, despite the corrosive nature of marketing, I read some ad blogs, watch some ad sites, I like a little ad report card on the Slate. You know, it's one of my things.

That being said, last night I caught what has got to be one of the vilest ads I can remember. From the abovetheinfluence people (link's to their ad page, since I couldn't link directly to the ad in question-the one called "Sent". Goes to show douchebaggery can be expressed through web design as well), folks from the govt. looking to cut down on the drug use. Now, this is all well and good, and I can understand their motivation-but come on, this commercial is racist, sexist, and totally dishonest, all at the same time. Stuff like this doesn't win the drug war folks, it just makes its authors look more and more like assholes...which, one imagines, they are. Christ, this made me mad. These people, and the asslanterns over at truth as well. Can't lie and be good at the same time, just doesn't work. My rant for the day.