Wednesday, July 26, 2006

The end of the semester...

... and the end of college are conspiring with my birthday to make it seem like I suddenly became far, far older over the weekend.

Mealcard spent, the eating isn't happening too often, and every waking moment is spent with either reading or writing. There is no significant difference between being 23 years, 11 months and 29 days old and being 24 years and two days old, but somewhere between there I lost enough sleep and got enough work to feel like an old man.

old old old old old.

You kids turn down that damned rock and/or roll, I'm trying to write a research paper on the Plastic People in the form of a script for an after school special. Back in my day we had respect for people who took slightly less than six years to finish a bachelor's degree.

Just wait until your father gets home.

MUSIC: regina spektor: oedipus

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Factual errors


Factual errors: People do not turn into vampires when bitten by skeletons.
Factual errors: Napoleon was not a centaur.
Factual errors: District attorneys do not have the power to commandeer airplanes.
Factual errors: Alex fires his Colt Python revolver 167 times without reloading. This gun holds fewer than 100 bullets.
Factual errors: Winston Churchill was not killed by a swinging log trap; he died of a stroke in 1965 (although he was twice gravely injured by swinging log traps in his home).

MUSIC: the new pornographers: streets of fire

(EDIT: I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's. His hair was perfect.)

Monday, July 10, 2006

Everyone had given up hope.

Originally uploaded by Vocal Shrapnel.
The night was too dark, the fog too thick. On board the plane a priest had been invited to the cockpit. The loudspeaker was resonating with the last rights. The muslim couple aboard were praying. The Rabbi considered saying something about the insensitivity of a Catholic sacrament being given to a religiously and ethnically diverse planeload, but thought better of it as the plane dipped precariously.

The families inside the airport were slowly coming to grips with the impending fate of their loved ones. Signs made to greet the arrivals sat foot-printed and forgotten on the linoleum. It seemed clear that the anticipated arrival which they were heralding would never come.

Just then, an idea struck -- so simple and yet so elusive. Running onto the airstrip, a hand clutching sticks, the other holding a lighter, was Shleeve.

Grief, everyone assumed.

He'd gone mad with grief. Running onto the tarmac through the mist and the shadows, unable to cope with the imminent disaster.

Then a glimmer.

Then a flame.


They cut the fog. The landing was perfect.

The rabbi sued, but the case was dismissed. "Don't be a dick," the judge said.

Shleeve got a parade.

MUSIC: clinic: the second line

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

"It's already July...

Shleeve blows
Originally uploaded by Vocal Shrapnel.
...summer's passing us by..."

So the fourth is here and gone France is going to win a world cup and my little sister's in Italy for the last game and Pete and Shleeve and my dad are older.

I will never have to take a math class again for the rest of my life.

Michael Collins' girlfriend was real, I have learned to my chagrin.

"She said she loved me like fireworks...

MUSIC: ben lee: catch my disease

...and that's the way I like it"