I was blogging. I read on Michele’s blog that planes had just crashed into the World Trade Center. I found a TV here at the office and it was already on CNN and everyone watched the planes crash into the buildings, over and over and over. And then the buildings collapsed, over and over and over. And I said to myself, Holy Fucking Shit.
Category Archives: Feral Living
Posted in Feral Living
Doing something you’d rather not do, for money
There was this performance artist we went to see a long time ago, an ex-stripper, and that was her grandma’s definition of prostitution. I’ve been thinking about the jobs I’ve had. Here’s a list of paying jobs I’ve had. It doesn’t include the things I’ve done for free, either voluntarily or by accident, many of which were cooler or more fun. I know I must have left some out, if I remember I’ll add them later.
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Ground Zero Theme Park
It’s the Ground Zero Theme Park! All I can say is, Holy Fucking Shit.
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Tie fact
The amount of time it takes you to get the two ends of your tie lined up before tying it so that when the tie is tied the tie is the correct length, with the end extending neither too low below your belt buckle nor hanging too high, with say an inch of shirt between the tip of the tie and the top of your pants – which look dorky, face it – corresponds directly to how big of a hurry you are in getting ready for work in the morning.
And this reminds me of how my uncle, who lived next door, always came over to our house before weddings and funerals so my father could tie a tie for him, because he couldn’t get his calloused fingers around the knots. How calloused were they? When he cut his hand on a razor clam out clamming at the Oregon Coast once, the doctor broke a couple needles before he finally got the wound stitched up.
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More on that book
Two things that struck me about the book “The Lovely Bones” (see book report): (besides the whole grief thing etc) the fact that the apparently weaker partner in a relationship can actually be the stronger one – it was beautiful to hear that, simply the fact that someone could realize that – it had never occurred to me before I read it there. And that a suburban, white, middle-class (but struggling) father could be portrayed in a loving, forgiving way. The non-ironic generosity of the book in general, in ways like that, was a source of great comfort for me.
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New Shoes
Shoe Project currently featuring Kismet, who kicked my butt at yahoogames Wordracer today.
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