Day: July 21, 2005

Can’t do nothin’ with a dull knife

elvisLeave a comment

I own a lotta knives…. Finnish Pukko knives.

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I’m a knife geek.

I own a lotta knives. All sorts of knives. Pocket knives. Hunting knives. Balisong/butterfly knives. Switchblades. Bayonets. Finnish Pukko knives. Tactical folders. Skean Dubhs. And kitchen knives. Way more than I need. French, german. At least four serious chef’s knives (wait, no, it’s six). Several paring knives. Couple fillet knives. A butcher knife or two.

One of the key things is, I keep them fucking sharp. If they’re not close to being razors, what’s the point?

My all time favorite is the carbon steel french knife from Thiers-Issard. It takes an incredible edge, and like the knives I grew up using, it goes black with age. I love this knife.

But one of the facts is, you use knives, you’re gonna get cut. I got my first knife when I was six, and then made my first trip to the emergency room for stitches shortly after. Cooks get cut all the damned time.

Tonight I was making dinner; I grabbed the carbon steel knife, picked up my sharpener to freshen the edge (one of those ceramic deals with two rods in a big V). As usual, I hold the sharpener with my left hand, the knife in my right. Tonight, I missed the rod and whacked down hard enough on my hand to make an audible thunk.

Ow, thought, and then went on. It just felt like a whack. But then I realized how sharp this knife is. I looked at my hand, and there was a razor-thin red line. Then I bent the knuckle.

That’s gonna bleed a lot, I said to myself.

The thing with cuts on that hand is, they’re hard to bandage by yourself. After about three tries, I was about to call a friend to come help me. But the thing is, I don’t have the fucking patience. So I went for the biggest damned bandaid I could find, slapped it on, and finished dinner.

All this is, of course, only an excuse to try my new iSight camera out. But here’s the result.

Really though, I’m good with a knife. Damned good. I’m just not so good with bandages.

[made with ecto]

Blogosphere Dropout

elvisLeave a comment

I really haven’t even thought about any entries of note in a week, I have not read anyone else’s blog in a week…. Even though I’ve been working like a dog all week, I still feel like I’ve been on vacation from everything.

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God, I feel like I’ve totally dropped out of the blogosphere. I really haven’t even thought about any entries of note in a
week, I have not read anyone else’s blog in a week. I’ve barely been on line, haven’t IM’d, have not answered email.

Even though I’ve been working like a dog all week, I still feel like I’ve been on vacation from everything. But now I feel oddly out of touch with the online world and have a lotta catch-up reading to do.

My bachelor week is about done. And while I didn’t go anywhere, still, I feel like I’ve had a vacation. My watch is in the shop for repair, and literally, it’s been a week since I knew what time it was; it’s been a week since I cared what time it was.

So what have I done? I’m trying to think. Not much, and yet I feel like I’ve been busy. Busy not doing anything important at all. I’ve been to a few dinners, watched a few movies, finished a couple books, written quite a bit. I’ve had too much to drink almost every night. I’ve talked to friends on the phone, I’ve hung out with topless, sunbathing lesbians, I’ve seen a movie, watched some TV, and just hung out a lot. I’ve been to a couple strip clubs, gone drinking with a group of guys I just met, watched porn movies. I’ve sat in the sun and done nothing. I’ve gone swimming at midnight and slept until 10am. I’ve gone for motorcycle rides and cooked for myself. Re-wired a friend’s AV system.

I have not read any Harry Potter. Waiting for the family to get home for that one. But I have read up on Harry Potter spoilers. I’m like that.

Apart from some writing and work, I’ve avoided my computer. As I said, little IM, no blogging or reading blogs. I’m behind on mashups over at MashupTown, I’m behind on everyone’s blogs; I don’t think I’ve left a blog comment in a week.

It’s been an interesting week. I have never truly lived alone. I haven’t been this alone in years; last time I was this alone, I crashed my motorcycle and spent most of the week barely able to walk with a back sprain. This is considerably better.

Yet it’s weird to get up in the morning and not see my kids; it’s weird to not read them stories before bed. It’s weird to not have anyone to cook for; it’s weird not to have the daily, constant chaos that comes from living with a family. That chaos is both the bane and the beauty of being a father, so it’s loss is both good and bad. It’s lovely to not have to run my dishwasher daily, to not have two loads of wash every day, to know any mess I have to clean, I made. But it’s a little empty to come home from work and not have anyone say Hi Daddy.

I miss ’em. Yet, this is good; it’s been therapeutic for me in many ways. Time to think, to relax, to not have to think about anyone’s needs but mine. I think we all need more of this; fathers, mothers, husbands, wives. Our kids, if they’re lucky, sometimes go to summer camp, and some of us get to go away to college. Grownups need summer camp now and then, I think. Particularly a summer camp with strippers and sunbathing, topless lesbians.

I must say though, I’m still tempted to go get my nipples pierced before everyone comes home. I’ve been thinking about it for a week, and I just might go do it, tonight, tomorrow. I would have gotten a tattoo, were not finances a little short this month, but some part of me wants to do something that leaves a mark. Other than walking into a door.

[made with ecto]

That’s why it’s candy

elvisLeave a comment

That’s why it’s candy.I wrote a bit of this over in Ray’s comments, but I wanted to go into it here for a couple reaons. One is that I just read a very good article on Roald Dahl in The New Yorker.

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Candy doesn’t have to have a point. That’s why it’s candy.

I wrote a bit of this over in Ray’s comments, but I wanted to go into it here for a couple reasons.

One is that I just read a very good article on Roald Dahl in The New Yorker. I didn’t know a lot about him, other than vague rumors about his being a real bastard, and that (my eleven-year-old insists regularly) his first name is pronounced Roo-all, so this was pretty interesting.

Second, I wanted to highly recommend the new film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

[made with ecto]

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