Metaphors

Wait.

Rising Up

It's strangely familiar, eventually. Surprising and predictable all at once, and that third flavor right at the corner of your eye. Meet it like the road, and the shower I'm about to take. Again.

Liveblogging

Sort of. It depends on your scale, I suppose. What metric you're using. You might expect more of these in the near future. Or not, depending. Regardless, you can be sure...I'm having more fun than you are.

My House is Suddenly Treacherous

You wouldn't believe how many of these I write in my head throughout the week, compositions that never see the other side of my eyes, forgotten before I could get them down. Misremembered, misheard, abandoned and aborted. All the things that are born and die in my head.

I can only imagine the smell.

Anecdotes too, the moments of my week, observed and occupied by me and worth noting, even for a day or two. And all my artificial mythology, as long as it's Monday and right after Sunday. I'm often reminded of a story or a legend or an adventure we've had, and it's been so long, and there've been so many, that I can't even remember what I meant in the first place, much less what happened.

Lots of sky lately, lots of sun and haze and even lightning. We rarely get lightning, one of my only complaints* about Eugene. Woke up from sitting in the sun with all my reds turned down, rods and cones off kilter. Everything was washed out and pale, like in an old movie. That doesn't happen every day.


*There's only a few...but they're big.

Ju-Months

I just got back from a movie-first out in a while. I really haven't been compelled to see anything recently, so when I saw that The Fall was premiering tonight at the Bijou I had to go. Dragged bones with me, saw another two people whose blogs may or may not be private or unknown...I don't know where that was going, other than to paint you a fine word picture of my evening. This is, after all, the theatre of the mind. Even if it's pretty much just community theatre.

ANYWAY...this is rapidly becoming an archive for my anecdotes, and I'd like to preserve this one, as well as share it with the rest of you. Upon arriving at the Bijou, the lobby was crammed with people waiting to get into the theatre...the woman at the head of the queue (man, that's a great word) was asking out loud "can we go in yet?". I, just walking through the front door, said in my best customer-service confident voice "yeah, go ahead, it's fine".

And they all did. Even though it wasn't. How do you like that? I'm reconsidering my flirtation with grifting.

Mornin', with a nod, and a smile.

Jim Henson's in Heaven

Tonight, The Daily Show featured a Guantanamo Bay themed muppet named "gitmo". As many of you may know, I have a personal affinity for muppets, from John Hodgman's take on "The Muppet Movie", to The State...and let's face it "Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem" may be the best band name ever set to foam rubber, and felt.

Well, except for Gwar.

No, no. It's better than Gwar.

In that spirit, let me offer you all my own take on muppets. Many of you have heard this before-however, I feel like putting it down-gotta preserve my bits. So many of them have vanished in the wind. My own passenger pigeons.

Every muppet is born into the world with a perfect knowledge of the moment of it's own death. It's why they're so happy. Every minute of every day has to be crammed with meaning, and joy. They grin and caper and teach children to read in a frantic and ultimately futile attempt to add relevance to a life whose end the muppet cannot help but see, and feel, and know. Life is short-this is true, but a muppet knows just how short.

"But Aaron", I hear you saying, "This doesn't add up at all. What about Oscar? He's not happy, he's not even pleasant. He's a grouch, it's right there in his name."


That's true.


Oscar is immortal.

I hate to keep doing this...

But motherfucker is just so fantastic. Watch the whole thing.

Touch and Corner and Key

Notes from my days...

Out and about, swift and sure and unsafe at any speed. Miles in the sun and hot and happy. I shaved today, made biscuits yesterday. Talked and spoke on the phone for more than 30 minutes with more than one person I'm related to. By blood, I mean.

I'm related to all of you, here, aren't I?

Sat through a speech about bananas and not bananas that was surprisingly professional/convivial. Talked about my haircut, and its unfairness. I look forward to the parties tomorrow, for the graduates I know. I shook Steve Novick's hand today...not the claw, the other one. Caught up on my roof-and-head situation, played NERD my morlock, was drunk by noon. That's backwards, like Tim Roth or Merlin. Napped, not once, but twice. Listened to the sussurus. Bloody dictionary knows "Quetzalcoatl", but not "sussurus".

Punned and punned and punned some more. It's funny what functions and tactics remain as parts of my brain shut down from fatigue and ennui. I fully believe that I could pun my way through a coma. Also, the weird feint. With the "ei" twice. I do believe I've developed a theme here, without even meaning to.

Battle

It's not me versus the people on the other side, the people on the right, people who believe differently from me. Nope.

It's me versus the douchebags. The manipulative, the righteous, the aggressive, passive and otherwise. These guys, for example. I cannot believe some people's capacity for umbrage.

On a totally different note, please enjoy this...or not, depending on your sensibilities.

No News

Still up, still standing. Sitting, but standing. Better than I was, those of you who are in the know to my hard-to-find far-flung nooks and crannies. Most of my love to Josh, this week, who has more than enough on his plate than to drop everything on my behalf...except he did, and simultaneously surprised me, and confirmed everything about himself that is contained in the imaginary Platonic Josh that lives in my head, extrapolated from his file.

You all have files, by the way. Someday I may trepan myself, and give you all a look.

'Till then, clade, consider this your conduit, your bloody shunt into my forebrain. And it says, I'm OK. Thanks for all your help.

Zero Hour

I've gone right through the bad and out the other side. Really. I can see my house from here...and it looks like somebody lost their keys. More tomorrow, if I've still got fingers and a face. My aztec god's back for blood, and I'm no Quetzalcoatl(fucking dictionary's got "Quetzalcoatl" in it). Blurg.

Still warm, the blood that courses through my veins. Still drawing breath, still have suffering to take. Wish me luck, and check back later. Also, I can not figure this out. Let me know what you think.

She-Beared

Hiding in a Dead Whale

Worst day I've had in years. Really. A great collapsible nightmare of a day, origami-like in its unfolding moments of horror and regret. It may be I've hit bottom.