I paid a lot of money to an orthopedic specialist who did a lot of X-rays and measurements and stretching and prodding. I asked him, “Is it normal for this kind of injury to be painful for this long?” He said, “No. It’s not normal. But sometimes it can cause pain for up to a year.” Woo! Thanks doc! I guess I should consider myself lucky, since it’s only been half a year and it is improving.
A relaxing Saturday night at home, I was cooking a pot of spaghetti, all was well with the world, so I thought a finger or two of fine Kentucky Bourbon over a couple of ice cubes would be appropriate. I guess it was a faulty bottle, because the instant the cork popped, the bottom fell out, and the contents of the entire bottle flowed out over the countertop, and all over me.
Recently back home from a week long trip to New York city, which is all well and good, except for the record breaking, biblical-proportions rain that fell for the entire week. Seriously, it stopped raining for maybe 15 minutes while we were there. Then I came home (Carol went on to Philadelphia for a few days), and it rained here for a week.
Some genius said, “Time exists so everything doesn’t happen at once.” But that doesn’t make sense when everything does happen at once. So much for genius.
Well, I never have been able to say no to a 1970’s rawkstar looking for a ride, so we all climbed into the Trooper and headed toward Hollywood proper. After a few wrong turns and near-fatal collisions we arrived at a two story house on Carlton Way, in the hills just above Sunset Boulevard. “Come in and have a drink,” Mr. Johansen said, “meet our friends.” So I angled the car up against the curb to keep it from sliding down the hill and we followed them in.
The Isuzu Trooper turned over to 175,000 miles the other day, so to celebrate I hit the pump for some of that sweet, sweet almost-three-buck-a-gallon unleaded. Ah, there’s nothing like approaching the $60 mark for a tank of gas.
Gah, two new Dell computers arrived tonight. They weren’t supposed to be here until Monday. Now at least one of them will be taunting me all weekend to set it up.
most of us don’t pay much attention to our surroundings, since for the most part we see the same tired crap every day. so when something has changed, it can pop right out at you. and today something was definitely popping out at me from the side of the house. someone had propped something up against one of the big fan palms.
today I packed up the old prosthetic leg that has been with me for 10 years or so (yes, those are jungle cats under the fiberglass). it’s going to live in Tulsa, Oklahoma, which is as good a place as any for something so weird.
working on the poem-composed-on-the-spot and printed-in-the-garage project, and so far it’s coming along nicely. first two colors are complete, just need to lay down the black poem text now, which will be the hardest part.
back out in the ink-hole otherwise known as the garage, where my old letterpress lives, quietly mocking me every day because I don’t print much.
if you’ve ever been fired you’ll never forget the feeling you get in your gut when you walk into the bosses office and see that final paycheck face down on the desk. hearing the obligatory, “I’m sorry,” or “i hate to do this,” is no different than hearing “fuck you,” or “go off and die now, we don’t care about you anymore.”
I just poured orange juice all over my hand. then it dripped on the dog. it was a mess. explaining how I poured orange juice on my hand wouldn’t be very interesting, so I’ll just leave it at that. whatever you’re imagining is better than reality. you can say that about pretty much anything, and it will be true.
I sent a guy named bryan hutcheson 250 copies of my “still no sign of Osama bin Laden” poem for an Iraqi war-inspired “peace card set” two years and three months ago, and the set never materialized.
for several weeks I’ve been meaning to tighten up the bolts on the chair I sit in here at the office. the problem has been that we don’t have the correct tool for the job here (or any tools for that matter), so I’ve just been carrying on as if nothing is wrong, in an increasingly wobbly and probably horribly dangerous chair.