I Have No Mouth, and I Must…

Evidently I’ve not only stopped blogging but stopped communicating almost completely. Even my mother just asked me if she’d pissed me off, and she’s never said anything like that to me, ever. I’m certain there’s a list of people who are likewise wondering if I’m angry, or who are angry with me. Mea Culpa. I’m […]

Evidently I’ve not only stopped blogging but stopped communicating almost completely. Even my mother just asked me if she’d pissed me off, and she’s never said anything like that to me, ever. I’m certain there’s a list of people who are likewise wondering if I’m angry, or who are angry with me.

Mea Culpa. I’m sorry. It’s been a weird week or so. I’m trying to settle down and write something, anything. The words slip through my grasping fingers like eels.

He is called the human nest-egg
Is known as Prince of Leaves
He is hidden now but you can see
The bubbles where he breathes
He has mastered all the hard things
And is difficult to shock
Has a muscle on the bottom
Which attaches him to the rocks

     –Shriekback, New Man

blog break

I didn’t really plan it but I seem to have taken some sort of break from blogging. I look back at my last couple weeks of entries and find that even though there are a few posts, they’re free of content. And since last weekend I’ve had nothing whatsoever to say, not even able to […]

I didn’t really plan it but I seem to have taken some sort of break from blogging. I look back at my last couple weeks of entries and find that even though there are a few posts, they’re free of content. And since last weekend I’ve had nothing whatsoever to say, not even able to write apart from a couple current-eventss notes.

I don’t know if this is the end of taking a break or just the beginning. But I know I still have nothing to say.

So. Let’s just call this a blog break and see what happens.

Cats foot iron claw
Neuro-surgeons scream for more
At paranoias poison door.
Twenty first century schizoid man.

Blood rack barbed wire
Polititians funeral pyre
Innocents raped with napalm fire
Twenty first century schizoid man.

Death seed blind mans greed
Poets starving children bleed
Nothing hes got he really needs
Twenty first century schizoid man.

Leigh Ann Hussey

Fuck.

This is a friend of mine – or used to be, hadn’t talked to her in a couple years. Old ‘net friend from motorcycle newsgroups; a gifted violin player who played in local celtic bands.

LIVERMORE – The Alameda County coroner’s office identified the motorcyclist killed when a dump truck ran over her Tuesday night as 44-year-old Leigh Hussey of Berkeley.

Authorities were investigating late Tuesday the circumstances that led Hussey to inexplicably lose control of her BMW bike about 7:20 p.m. and slip under the back axle of a yellow dump truck on westbound Interstate 580 near North Livermore Avenue, Highway Patrol said.

Hussey was crushed by the truck’s two rear tires and was then thrown to the right hand shoulder, Highway Patrol officer John Pabst said. She was pronounced dead at the scene from massive trauma.

http://www.contracostatimes.com/mld/cctimes/14596956.htm

While she wasn’t a close friend, she’s a close friend of several of my friends. And I don’t even know what to say. Other than, you know, ride safe people.

season over

Hockey season is officially over. Forget the cup. The Sharks are out, thus no no hockey from here matters. When’s football season start? *sigh*

Hockey season is officially over. Forget the cup. The Sharks are out, thus no no hockey from here matters.

When’s football season start?

*sigh*

Not a model man

I’ve had this song goin’ through my head all weekend. look at the signs look at the symptoms look at the slight calm before the storm I feel the silence I feel the signals I feel the strain tension in my head well, what more can be said… not a model man not a saviour […]

I’ve had this song goin’ through my head all weekend.

look at the signs
look at the symptoms
look at the slight
calm before the storm
I feel the silence
I feel the signals
I feel the strain
tension in my head
well, what more can be said…

not a model man
not a saviour or a saint
imperfect in a word
make no mistake
but I
give you everything I have
take me as I am…

      – King Crimson – Model Man

Daddy, what’s MILF mean?

A mother’s day highlight: Having to explain to an 8 year old and a 12 year old what M.I.L.F. means. “Um. It’s a, you know, really pretty mommy…” The little one was fine with that. The elder gave me one of those looks. You know the ones, the ones I’ll be getting more and more […]

A mother’s day highlight:

Having to explain to an 8 year old and a 12 year old what M.I.L.F. means.

“Um. It’s a, you know, really pretty mommy…”

The little one was fine with that. The elder gave me one of those looks. You know the ones, the ones I’ll be getting more and more now, the ones that say, ok, fine, but there’s more to this story and I know it.

I think it’s a message

There is something so bizzarly sweet/funny about this. This is a message I found on my voice mail. I edited it down – chopping out some identifying things like phone numbers and locations, and chopping about four and a half minutes of dead air out of it. It’s still six and a half minutes long […]

There is something so bizzarly sweet/funny about this.

This is a message I found on my voice mail. I edited it down – chopping out some identifying things like phone numbers and locations, and chopping about four and a half minutes of dead air out of it. It’s still six and a half minutes long though.

One of the many things that are annoying about vonage is that it sometimes maintains a persistent connection even after you hang up. So when someone calls me, and then calls me again, vonage may maintain the same connection and treat it as a single call.

That seems to be what happened here. This is several calls strung together but it’s all a single call on my end, in one unbroken voice mail message.

So here’s the story, in case you don’t wanna sit through six and a half minutes. A little girl, attempting to call her friend or her friend’s mom from pre-school, because she wants a play-date. She’s sulky and whiney and won’t give up. She wants that play date. Her pre-school teacher can’t talk her out of it, her mom can’t talk her out if it. She’s calling from the pre-school’s phone, and thinks she has her friend’s mom’s phone.

Clearly, she has a wrong number, but that ain’t stopping her either.

The best part is toward the end, at about the four and a half minute mark or a bit after, when she starts to leave this incredibly sweet message fro her friend, I love you, I’ll do that forever, and I’ll never forget that, and then starts to ramble, and then starts to grumble at some friend and ends with “…I think I have a splinter…”

I have no idea why this makes me giggle so much, but something about it is just deeply amusing in a ‘found’ sort of way.

Click here to play (it’s a .wav file).

(props to GregggggggPTX for settin’ me up with a decent sound editor, Audacity. It got the job done.)

sound tools?

Anyone know a good, free, easy to use WAV file editor for OSX? (Or an mp3 editor, I can convert it). I’ve got this sound file I wanna post – an inadvertent voice mail – but it’s ten minutes long, with a lot of dead air. I need to chop the gaps out, and take […]

Anyone know a good, free, easy to use WAV file editor for OSX? (Or an mp3 editor, I can convert it).

I’ve got this sound file I wanna post – an inadvertent voice mail – but it’s ten minutes long, with a lot of dead air. I need to chop the gaps out, and take out the bits that identify who it is. It’s a wrong number, but still.

But I can’t find anything that’s worth a damn that’s free. Such a beast has to exist. I tried ‘Wave Editor” but had nothing but trouble with it, it wrote out a horrible-sounding file and then started crashing. I don’t need anything sophisticated, just something that will let me chop out the gaps.

What a difference ten hours makes

Sometimes you don’t know how fucking tired you are until you get un-tired. I’ve felt like shit since last thursday; had one of those days where i made a plan for something and organized my whole day around it, and then it went off track through no fault of my own. But it set my […]

Sometimes you don’t know how fucking tired you are until you get un-tired.

I’ve felt like shit since last thursday; had one of those days where i made a plan for something and organized my whole day around it, and then it went off track through no fault of my own. But it set my head up in a bad place. And then the next day I hacked a hunk outta my finger, then had a totally shitty weekend, with a lot of time working, and then this week it’s just been one thing after another.

Finally, yesterday, i went outside, got away from work on a beautiful day and had lunch, and just sort of got my head clear a little bit.

And then last night, I crashed out and slept, and slept, and slept. I think I slept ten hours or more, where I usually tend to sleep less than six.

I feel a whole hell of a lot better today that I have in a week. I dunno how much of that’s just the sleep (I suspect a lot), and how much is just getting outside a little, getting work out of my head for a couple hours. I dunno how much of it’s just the feeling of the emotional load being a little lighter.

Whatever it is, I no longer feel quite as much like doing bad harm to myself or someone else (though, you know, good harm always has strong therapeutic value.)

Whatever it is, I’ve been listening to some good songs a friend sent me, and daydreaming about tattoos and flowers and sunshine, and meanwhile actually getting a lot of work done.

And you know, the gash on my finger even healed up.

Random nonsense

Random thoughts since I can’t make sense of much today. The cut on my left index finger still hurts. Man, I did a number on this. But I don’t think I can blame it for my lousy typing anymore. The Sharks are up two-zero over the edmonton oilers. Don’t tell me the strike killed hockey; […]

Random thoughts since I can’t make sense of much today.

The cut on my left index finger still hurts. Man, I did a number on this. But I don’t think I can blame it for my lousy typing anymore.

The Sharks are up two-zero over the edmonton oilers. Don’t tell me the strike killed hockey; not when the shark tank is sold out every game and generally considered the loudest arena in the NHL. What strike? Hockey’s back, and my team are rippin’ it up. I smell stanley cup.

I need to write something. I desperately need to write. I can’t seem to get anything to come out when I try.

I love 24. There, I said it. I don’t care how many plot holes it has, how implausible the plots, how nonsensical the dialog, how purely wrong some of the techno-jargon. It’s the best fucking thing on teevee. Jack Bauer is the hero’s hero. I don’t know how they do it, how they maintain this quality of breathless intensity, but it’s fuckin’ brilliant.

There’s a new Tool album out. I dunno about the music, but the packaging is amazing. This is one to buy on CD, even if you’re a downloader.

I’m tired of waking up feeling depressed. This is getting kind of old.

Why is no one saying – this is what Big Love is based on. The press hasn’t seemed to make a peep about it. And I must say, I don’t know why, but I love Big Love. And it’s not just because I got to see Chloë Sevigny riding on Bill Paxton last week. As much as I’d like to pose her that way on me, there’s just something so involving about this show.

I just got Trica Allen’s new book, and it’s fabulous. If you care at all about polynesian tattooing, it’s a must-have.

I’m reading Deja Dead by Kathy Reichs. This is the series Bones is based on. And let me say, 1) The show is much better than the book (so far), and 2) my god, this woman loves to fill her books with irrelevant personal detail about the characters. The forensic, technical stuff’s great, but who fucking cares about anything thing not related to that? Yet there are pages and pages and pages of it. I’m just hoping this gets better, cause the good parts are really interesting.

I’m thinking about sailboats again. *Sigh*.

And on yet another teevee note – who doesn’t love Supernatural? After 24, it’s my favorite show of the year, and as with Big Love, it’s hard to say why. It’s not that great, not that well written, not that fantastically well acted. Yet it all comes together perfectly, just the right amount of camp, great looking cast, all the right borrowings from westerns, quest stories, detective shows, X-files, Buffy, and Kolchak, The Night Stalker. And it’s got the best damned soundtrack of seventies rock, and the coolest car. The season just ended, but pick it up in re-runs or look too DVD (Soon, I hope). It rules, but you have to just let it be what it is and not expect too much in any one area. Enjoy it’s rich, campy goodness.

I’m having the devil’s own time getting any work done this week. I have deadlines on stuff and I’m behind on everything and yet my head’s oh-so-full of non-work shit. Other people’s problems, my own problems, people I want to help, see, talk to. The desire to be outside instead of at a desk. Tattoos. I need to get shit done and I can’t.

And I’m writing this when I should be getting ready for work.