notes of the absurd

This felt weird to me.

I had a beer yesterday afternoon. It was cold, and tasted good. It went down smooth. I wanted another, but was out. So I had a glass of wine. It was great. Fruity, heady, antioxidizing. My heart felt both stronger and happy. (Science says that red wine and beer are good for me. I'm not sure how much science was done about actually testing the two right in concert with each other, but if they ever do want to test it, well, let me tell them...

...it's good.)

Well, then suddenly it was time to go to the grocery store. Guests coming...stuff to buy. Dinner to make. (I made a killer Mexican spread with tvp, pintos, spiced rice, guac, corn on the cob, and fresh pico de gallo that really was totally BOMB.)

Ok. So I set out. Got this new Todd Snider show and I went straight to the Beer Run song. That's a funny song to say the least. I'm on a pretty big Todd Snider, and Robert Earl Keen, Jr kick right now. Good stuff. (That said, at the moment I'm listening to a truly wonderful Taj Mahal/Toumani Diabate show that is...well...wonderful. Now, where was I?...I set out...)

...I didn't get more than 50 feet up the road to the 4 way stop sign. This intersection plauges me b/c I got a ticket there once. $190 California roll. Suck. I've never not stopped there again, fwiw. Anyway, as I neared, I see this small pickup truck coming up, but not slowing down. I don't know if I made a face or what, but as I stopped and truck didn't, this dude just sticks his finger up and totally flips me off. Like real anger kind of finger. A huge "fuck you" to me.

That was weird. I wasn't actually angered or offened, but more just "what the hell"ed?

I didn't get more than 100 feet down the road, kinda reeling a little, when lo and behold, one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen...L O N G black hair, statuesque, raven-dressed, a goddess of the...well, afternoon. She was smoking smoking hot; a fact not at all mitigated by the fact that she was dressed only in a bikini top and thong. Barefoot and everything. I felt lecherous for doing a double-take. She watched me do a double-take. And then I was down the road.

On the way to the store, I was obstructed for a good 3 minutes by the worst parker I've ever seen. Then later, after I parked, I watches this woman guide a guy...blindy style...to their car. He was old, and had a tube coming out from under his pants/cuff/ankle. He was carrying a bag, attached to the tube. Full of yellow liquid. They moved slowly, which I assume was so as not to dislodge the tube.

On my way into the store, I crossed paths with a small group of frat guys. True frat guys. Strange, out there in the burbs. I didn't think much of them, but did hear Todd Snider in my head singin Beer Run. I saw them a little later, and indeed, and such as it is, they bought 9 cases of Busch Light. 9 cases! Busch Light. This is fuckin Oregon, dudes. You don't buy busch light. You can't score bush with busch light. Fuckin frat guys. 9 cases. busch light. Jesus.

I but a six of Dead Guy and felt smug. Then I heard Todd Snider again. B, double e, double r, u, n beer run. Darn!. He's right. All you need is a 10 and a fiver. a car, and a sober driver. beer run. They had that.

Ok, I forgave them the bad beer. Then it was my turn to check out. And turns out, I was checked out, by the cashier lady, who asked for my id. She looked at me funny. I said, "I'm 39." She said, "baby, you don't look it. But I don't care about that. I just wanted to see your address. I hoped you lived around here."

Oh! Well, I...uh...yeah...see there was this pee bag...uh...(fluster)...hmmm.

I said something to her about a weird afternoon. She asked what I was doing for the next 30 minutes. I said that I have to figure out just what on earth is going on here. She winked at me. I slipped her the...credit card...and quickly left.

can you believe that I actually drove home with my eyes closed?! Well, no, I can't either. I didn't, but I may as well have. After that, I wasn't sure what was anything. So I put it all aside and had a beer.

If nothing else, I raised my glass and toasted life, to life, and applauded the random acts of weirdity that really really keep me going. God bless weird. Just don't let me lose bladder control. And don't ever offer me a busch lite. Else I might...pee in a bag.

notes to self

From the little angel on my shoulder:

don't forget to take the bottle caps out of your pocket
drink another glass of water
yes, you should wash those strawberries before you eat them
no, you don't actually NEED another beer
have you done a to do list?
stop ignoring your family and step away from the computer
don't say "whatever"
be more humble. of course the speeding ticket was your fault.
NO he didn't need to let you off
get off the table
don't say "whatever"
mmmmmm...kiwi
you should probably turn that down a little bit

and from the little devil:
fuckin cop
open that
tell them to wait
party on, brah
a little isn't enough
hold it...don't cough
mmmmm...donuts
cool! adult swim!!
whatever
whatever
beer
leave the seat up...you'll be back
don't tell me to be quie...(SLAP)...

from the little angel:

That fuckin thing will mess you up. Now stop saying "whatever" go take a shower.

reposted here b/c of a picture I just saw. :-)

I'm not sure about any-a y'all, but I can recall a
time when times were softer, people were softer, and
our sense of security was more intact. Take for
example, back when I was 'bout 12(that's 27 years ago
fuckin a...really?!...holy crap...) or so. Back then,
if I saw some car with its headlights left 'on,' I
could walk up, open the front door, and turn 'em off.
I used to do that all the time. Know why?
Cuz I could cuz people left their
doors open cuz we didn't have the fancy stereos or
stealable cars or something. Shit, back then my ma
din't even lock our house door. Not sure why she
didn't, and it might explain the strange hobo I found
on the couch once, but all in all twas pretty safe
back then.

Today I saw a SUV (usually I pee on those if I see 'em
and no one's around. Then I leave this little sketch
of Ozzy at the Alamo and I get a good laugh) with it's
lights on. Today, instead of feeling vandalous,
scandalous, and urinary, I felt helpful. I wanted to
turn its lights off. It's cold today and I didn't
want to see the driver all frustrated...didn't want to
imagine the driver finding his/her battery dead,
feeling that feeling. You know *that* feeling - it's
awful.

So I go up and try to open the front door, just in
case, ya know? Thinkin I could just whip off the
lights and shut the door and feel like I done a
kindness.

Within about 8 inches, I hear this metallic and angry
and quasi-demonic voice rail out "STEP AWAY FROM THE
CAR." (sorta like Linda Blair's Lick Me voice only
more robotic.) "Hmmm?" I think to myself, not wanting
to be deterred. "must be that other car's alarm,"
(you know, that old grey beater sitting above a pool
of oil?) and I approach....touch the door.
AAAAYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEE! the car screams out. Just one
good scream and I jump back. Shit that was loud.

But when I jumped, I couldn't jump far b/c my hand is
stuck to the handle. There's this gluey epoxy stickum
crap keeping me in place. And my fingers sting b/c I
jumped so hard at the shriek and thus pulled hard on
the tips.

Well, now what? I'm frightened by all the noise and
stuck hands, but still feeling charitable. Where o
where was my "Stupid SUV" Homer voice today? So I try
to open the door and it gives...opens. Cool! And in
I reach, grabbing for where the lights should be.

Instead, I see this red beam pointing at my
head...like in those spy movies or something...a gun
scope...and I hear a click. "CLICK!?" I think to
myself. "DARN!!

OH MY GOD THE CAR IS GONNA SHOOT ME."

Without thinking I ducked and my hand, now hot and
COVERED in fear-sweat, sliped to my side. I'm on the
ground and rolling under the neighboring car, out the
other side, now covered in oil b/c people are so lazy
about getting their gaskets replaced, and on my way to
the front door. BANG! I look over my head an see the
puff of smoke eminating from the SUV's still open
door.

I forgot to close the door. Ok, so now the lights are
on *and* the door is open and I wanna make things
right. Sigh...

I creep around back to the driver's side of the oily
car, drop, and roll (heh heh) back to the SUV side.
Slide out, silently stand,...sweat drips from the tip
of my nose...hands shaking...undo my fly...and pee all
my morning coffee on the front seat.

Stupid SUV never even knew I was there.

I drink, therefore I am

I think Descartes said it best.

I couldn't agree more. Something about the act, the art even, of drinking. From the very outset, stretching my arm into the
fridge, over the yogurt and around the milk, deep towards the back where I stash the bottles so I never really know just how many are
left, or more, how many I've had. Until I count the caps in my pocket anyway, but that's an act unto itself.

Indeed. I drink, therefore I am. The act, from the reaching to the opening. Even before, oh the anticipation of finding the opener nestled
deep in the morass of the silverware drawer. When the sweat brims lightly on my lip, amid the drooly dry mouth. Awesome. And then
the sip. And when sip turns to gulp. And swallow. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Celebration! (like, the ale. There is NOTHING like Celebration Ale in the winter. And it is winter here, no matter what the calendar says.
Late season football and cold malty beer. Good times. Celebration.

I am. Beer, the bread of life. L'CHAIM! BEER! It's nourishing. It's nourishment itself. Nourishes. Beer, an adjective, a noun, a verb. And
that is what is happenin. I know that I am because beer makes me feel. Warm, heady, wet, and dare I say, healthy even. Nourished. So much that beer itself should be classified as a performance enhancer. Not for driving mind you (we all know that that's just wrong), but otherwise? To be sure.

I know full well that if Judah of old had beer in his lamp, that would've burned not just for 8 but for 80 days. Hearty. Bold. Magical.

That is the stuff of life, and I know it, because I am.

PS

I wanna tip you, baby, before I go
I be back tomorrow night an' drink so mo'
I don't care, what the people are thinkin'
I ain't drunk, I'm just drinkin'
(But you're so high)
Oh no, you the one drunk!
Look at yo' eyes, man!
(But you're so high)
Don't you tell my old lady, now!
(But you're so high)
Well I ain't had but four or five
(Stay drunk all the time)

I blog, therefore I am

AHA!

it was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.

On Hiatus

Howdy again,

This is weird to me, but I've just been informed that in light of recent
events in the Cheese world, my editorial staff has decided to take
a break. They're leaving me to my own devices, my strange designs,
and going on hiatus.

I'm not sure how this will work, frankly, but I think that in their absence
I should be able to take some liberties, with such banalities as ending
a sentence with a prepostion behind. Or maybe just have a sentence
beginning and ending with prepositions! With!!!!

That's just whatever, of course.

Today is Veterans Day, and I'm outta coffee.

That too is just whatever.

We had a ballot measure here recently, having to do with increasing
access for all our citizens to procure prescription medicine. Something
about the state buying our meds in bulk. I don't know quite what meds,
though surely I'm hoping that our thc is included in the bulk.

Here's the thing though. This measure was wholly unopposed at. It's good
for the people, everyone agreed. But...BUT!!! So how was it then
that almost 23% of the voters voted Nay? I mean, the measure
passed mightily, but still. These are the same voters that voted
against a necessary constitutional amendment restricting campaign
contributions (we need to amend the constitution here in order to
enact contribution limitations...we're prohibited from just doing it) but voted
for the measure actually imposing limitations. See, that second part
is completely moot...can't be done...b/c the people voted against
the very change allowing those limitations to be imposed with.

i'm not sure what to thinK.

Except to say that mostly, voting scares me, even among the so called
informed. I will say that I'm with Doob on the notion of voting
for better choices, be they parties like the Greens or just individuals
who aren't influenced by the machine so much. Aren't quite part
of the machine imposed on us in the guise of choice-in-democracy. Like that
great Rage vid where they blend W/Gore's faces and remind us of all
the exactitudes among their political utterances.

Anyway, I just thought I'd mention it. I do hope that y'all had some fun
in your electoral processes, pompously self- aggrandized as those
processes might be.

Peace,
PT
makin the freeway safe for the freeway

Kick Ass! (parenting in the modern era, part 732)

I haven't said much in a while, mostly because I'm feeling quite busy parenting. Rarely is there a spare moment to sit
at the computer, and when those occur, I'm usually holding the baby in one hand and barely typing with the other.

Sheesh. I'm grateful for a few moments of uninterrupted being, but those moments are flooded with all sorts of stuff like
thoughts and recollections and things I shoulda done or said or written.

Anyway, with that, here's something that's totally blowing me away.

The boy's current favorite album is the moe. single Meat. It's 45 minutes of pure live Meat, and it's really terrific. But, for the boy?
"Moe. daddy?" Uh, really? How about Leftover? "NO! Moe.!" Ok then. And off we go, jammin on the way to school. He now talks to me
about chair-dancing, which he does in the car seat while we drive. It makes me laugh and laugh, to say the least!!

His favorite song for me to sing remains "Rollin In My Sweet Baby's Arms" which he also asks for by name when we prepare to bed down.

And most lately, with the girl, we've discovered that when I sing "Dog Faced Boy" she falls asleep before the song is over. That don't work with any ol song, but the sad little Phish ditty sure seems to work.

So we're loving all of this immensely, and I think I'm on to something. :-)

amazingly out of reach

Went to an art fair today...Art in the Pearl. Was in a wonderful area that we call the North Park Blocks. I love that part of town. Powells is nearby, along with a great veggie chinese place, and one of my favorite dives to eat pizza. Plus, there's a neat mix of mentally ill homeless people coupled with some otherly Portland flavor. Makes for interesting people-watching, to say the least.

Today at the fair, we saw a truly spectacular painting. It was...well...spectacular. Vibrant and electric colors, muted softly on a darkish canvas and framed in black. Was a woman...a goddess type or mystic, or prophetess? A femme of extraodinary visage. She was clothed in wolfen garb of some sort...furry, but not unsexual...and walking along side the most magnificient wolf I've ever seen in paint. This thing radiated. It spoke. It...transcended. I couldn't possibly adequately explain or do justice to this painting.

And I couldn't possibly afford it. They were asking $900. For the record, that is WAY out of my league. What is it about art that it can be so uppity in price? I mean, sure...if I could afford this piece it would already be on my wall...I'd pay. In this case, it would be worth the ask, but for the fact that it's beyond me. I guess maybe that's part of the transcendence too. Art for art's sake. I didn't expect to be so moved today as I was by this thing, and the fair was free to get in, so...there it is. I had my moment and I'll take it.

Happy Labor Day!

oops

The water is rushing over me. It's warmhot, steamy,
and very pleasing. And I like the sensation as it
washes over my head, rivering down my face and back
because I've got my head down in it, facing the wall.
It feels good on my neck and shoulders; don't want to
take my head out of this for anything. In this point
and time, I'm in my own private waterfall and nothing
could make me feel more 'in touch' and alive.

Of course, as can happen from time to time and during
solitudinous times such as this one, day-dreaming
begins. You know how day dreams go...start off
ambiguous...a name maybe, spinning around your
consciousness...or an image...or a memory...or even a
dream that stuck with you...and then the ambiguity
sorta morphs into a definition.

Day dreaming sure can be cool sometimes! One of my
favorite lapses - me on a surfboard dipping chocolate
into peanut butter - always amuses me. But it doesn't
always come; sometimes other dreams come instead.
Like today.

Today my thoughts sorta ran to some vague notion of
Sugar Mags and from there I had a full on vision of
beautiful naked hippy women soaping my back.

!!!

Yes, my back.

Ahhh, fantasies. Ohhhh, day dreams.

The next thing I know, and thank god I'm still facing
the wall (with the warmhot water still cascading down
my head, face, neck and back), I'm totally aroused and
(while soaping an armpit) I let out a moan.

"MOAN," I moaned.

Well let me tell you that sure snapped me out of it.
Shit. Here I am in the YMCA shower under the big sign
that says Help Us Conserve Energy: Keep Your Shower
Short, already like 8 minutes into my shower, and now
completely inappropriate. Gosh, Don't Ask Don't Tell
would fly out the window if I was gay and in the army.
You can't get an erection in a public shower and
think it's ok. That ain't ok.

I looked around and PHEW there was only one other guy
in there and he had his back to me, facing the wall,
with a dazed and dreamy look to his shoulders. YIKES!
What is he thinkin!!

I spun the water to cold and took care of appearances
asap, and then ran outta there to my towel. I love my
towel, good towel, faithful towel.

Seems in the end that not much harm was done - it
coulda been worse. So much worse....

Wanna know what's worse?

The worst thing about showering at the Y, even today,
is how dry my hands feel for the rest of the day. MAN
I hate that dry-hands feeling.

Thank god for vaseline, and peace!


(ok...i made that up, except for the part about that dry-skin feeling. i like the tension...the "it could happen to me tomorrow" nature of it. jsyk...)

Hippy e-Crack

Howdy!

So...I cannot get enough of this youtube vid. First time I watched it, I though..."meh"...but subsequent viewings get better and better. I watch it every day. I watch it multiple times. I've turned my kid on. We watch it together. I'm hooked. Can't stop. Don't want to. Shouldn't have to. Ain't gonna. Nope.

www.youtube.com/watch

This whole youtube thing is quite amazing. I'm finding all sorts of random groovies over there. But none are quite like this one...all the ducks...

...whoa!