“You got to stop once in a while / And shake off that face of yours…”

Past time for a new look.

“…I'm no genius and I've lost myself / The books are on the table and the secret's on the shelf…”

“Meet me on the equinox…”

So done with this season.

“…Everything, everything ends…”

Like a poker tournament, life every so often advances to a new stage, where blinds increase, lower denominations get cashed out as irrelevant, and the previous wagers feel inconsequential compared to what currently is at stake. What really matters gets honed and pared away the longer one stays in the game. And yet, the truth that takes the entirety to discover is that the value of the markers is immaterial. What really matters is longevity. The only true currency is time.

Never has $5 seemed so worthless.

Ou la la, notre madamoiselle est, qu’est ce c’est, abroad? Mon dieu! Voilà, le “C[] Is Too Good For This” Petit Dejeuner:

“Puis je comment allez vous” croissants.

“Je m’appelle Louis Pasteurizé“ milk.

“Comme ci comme ça avec mon coeur” omelette.

“Il y a un beaucoup des au revoir” crepes.

“Parlez vous la bibliotheque de ma tante des pourquoi plus cette chemise sur la tableau” French toast.

Rather be lucky than good; but rather feel good than lucky.

Yesterday’s opportunities will be here tomorrow. Today is today.

Jon’s Principle of Non-non-confrontation
If there’s something which for the relationship’s sake you’re keeping yourself from saying to someone, then for the relationship’s sake say it.

Come to bury, not to praise.

$2000 elephant stuffed animal!
Haha FAO?
Museum gift shop.

In the nether hour between last and next season, the mammoth perfection of this past refreshingly awesomely fun week comes full circle. Let that not end.

Also, on bus back to STL. (Me, not the elephant.)

Saw Alice in Wonderland. There is no theme of drugs and just a forced red herring theme of dreams, but much more forced is the story about a girl’s relationship with a paternal figure. For this is a story about a girl’s rejection of patriarchial society; as much as Johnny Depp may be the Mad Hatter, he should not be so central a character. Alice’s strongest connection should be with the White Queen. Although, having spent most of the movie trying to decide whether I liked or didn’t like the un-Carrollian plot, I ultimately decided the former; but more importantly, at no point was there doubt about whether I enjoyed it, with unfading smiles worthy of a worthy Cheshire Cat.

Too Much Light or a spritz of water directly in the face Makes The Baby Go Blind provided it gets there in time to get one and just one ticket.

Mimesophobia I was at first worried would, being so meta, duplicate too much the ideas that I had, ironically titularly. But fortunately the play explored that different conflict- the competition of narrative between every author except the subject.

Why is there a dinosaur in the back seat?
“Because R[] has an ex-bf in Romania.”

A Brontosaur on Pluto is like showing up on the doorstop asking to wash out the bloodstains from a misstep twixt station and train; like a free doughnut on the way to getting a good taco salad, repaying when a taco salad got you good; like reading on the concerte shore of Lake Michigan with skyscrapers drifting in the fog to the notes of Viva La Vida as the March sun shines a peek of 70F warmth; like pulling up chairs when the host isn't there; like getting an extra umbrella because it's no longer raining; like finding excuses to stay; like finding reasons to leave; like that hedgehog story that everyone has.

A Brontosaur on Pluto is something that isn’t really somewhere that isn’t really; and therefore it is.

“Go big or go home.”

“I tried to sleep in the rain, underneath an acorn tree, but the drops kept falling, hitting me, as I slipped further unconsciously, into a world of windy dreams…”

Chicago escapism.

“…My mind, I took it to Chicago…”

“Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart / When I want to run away…”

Time for a new look.

“…In your eyes…”

"I don't understand what I'm doing here in the first place! I'm not a writer, I'm a monkey!"
"Would you mind if I sit here till he or she or it comes?"
"A mountain-climber's axe! A mountain-climber's axe! CAN'T I GET THAT THROUGH YOUR SKULL?"
"Corngranulations. Ya kooch di anda. Epp! Viola-dimir da zamplification forum. / Well I'm not sure I'm ready to apply just yet..."
"I go up to the counter, the guy says what can I do for you, I say, Give me a bottle of aspirin. The guy gives me this funny look and he says, 'Oh, we don't have that, sir.'"
"Isn't that / Think it is / Yes I need / Help you sir / Isn't that / Think it is / Yes I need / Help you sir"

All in the timing.

"You can always throw in a few jokes later on. You gotta get the throughline first."
"I like to think of myself as a citizen of the universe. / (Bell.)"
"It gives you a little hope about the world, doesn't it? That a man could have a mountain-climber's axe smashed into his skull, and yet live on for one whole day?"
"Okay, maybe we speak the same language, but it's nonsense!"
"Because in a Philadelphia, no matter what you ask for, you can't get it. You ask for something, they're not going to have it. You want to do something, it ain't going to get done. You want to go somewhere, you can't get there from here."
"Just a moment / It's time / Please / Let's go / Just a moment / It's time / Please / Let's go"

Dolls priced at $3 should not differ only in one certain way from those priced at $5. That ratio has no rationalization.

“You know you can't keep letting it get you down…”

This too shall pass.

“…Let it go…”

“I've got no expectations / To pass through here again…”

Saying that something went as expected depends on the expectation. The tone and the history can each connote contextually, but the response is as much a reflection of the audience as it is of the speaker. The undefined expectation gets accepted without unchallenged so often, it’s rather surprising when the evasion is actually called out with a follow-up.

“Step one, you say…”
One foot in front of the other.
“…We need to talk…”
Interview, and so much unsaid.
“…Begin to wonder why you came…”
Tired of trying to be someone I’m not.
“…Lay down a list of what is wrong…”
After 6 years, where I was 6 years ago: trying to be where I was 6 years ago.
“…Drive until you lose the road / Or break…”
One foot in front of the other.
“…How to save a life…”

Acknowledging the wave, but not getting the buzz.

You can’t judge a song by its cover.

There’s a lot of difference between getting a lot out of this and getting out of this.

Apparently someone is working on the apartment door, but it sounded like there was a sneezing elephant outside my apartment. Now excuse me while I look up sneezing elephants on youtube, because I don't know actually how sneezing elephants sound.

Breakfastfest.

“I remember the song where the rats sang along / And danced for their daily bread…”

Daily: adjective or adverb? Battlelines drawn, and with sanity in the balance, let the daily manner be debated, checked, and proofread with the mindnumbingness of a routine life-changing obsession that probably won’t matter. The scream of “aaaaaah” doesn’t accompany understanding, just grammatical irrevocability.

Give us this day our daily free pancake.

“…And the only thing left / Was to flee from the nest…”

“I look at the floor, and I see it needs sweeping…”

Some things need to be moved, some need moving.

“…I look at the world, and I notice it’s turning…”

Just a little fine tuning.

“…While my guitar gently weeps…”

Secret shopper/agent.

Convergence.

There’s nothing like the feeling that, by pausing to inquire about the possibility of ordering Orangina before approaching the cute girl sitting alone, one has narrowly avoided hitting on the bartender’s gf.

Playing for Team Spoiler.

I like to think that somewhere, somehow, Dara and Siele are happy together.

H.A.L. = Julie Andrews

Chicago is like London, but with less tea and lamb.

I couldn’t tell whether it’s a rock that looks like a potato or a potato that looks like a rock. So I called you.
I thought you called to chat.
Oh, that too. But it was a catalyst.

Win some, lose some.

“I am the passenger…”

I need a day like that every once in a while.

“…And I ride, and I ride…”

I need a night like that every once in a while.

“Tonight I was haunted by some dreams / That we'd never run in the rain together…”

As I drift off to sleep, I realize the one question I didn't want to and don't take pleasure in overanalyzing is: why do I like talking to you? I don't think this is very coherent. I think I want to share it anyhow. Share- that's the word. I talk with you because I share to you and explain to myself. I don't know what it is on your end, if it's different or the same or both. That's probably not a healthy way of holding a conversation, but don't really feel like getting into the how and why. Maybe that's not fair, for both of us. But a green rock is green; if I wanted a green rock, why would I complain that it's not indigo?

“…Don't believe the scientists that tell you what to think…”

I need to live vicariously through someone living vicariously through me.

“…And everything will fit / Into place where it belongs / In time…”

It’s like a pillow fight, only with last week’s New York Times.

If I’m rescheduling MLK Day into the specially designated month of February, I feel I may as well borrow Bing Crosby’s lyrics to be “dreaming of a white” holiday. Though I do wish I had the 3-day weekend, instead of one about 3/5 as long.

Tasteless Mondays return.

Of hiring and retiring.

There are 2 ways to rue:
(1) To review
Obsessively what’s done askew
And (2) To never do.

“There's got to be something better than / In the middle…”

Ask and ye shall receive.

“Any interest in getting a chocolate martini?”
What’s the occasion?
“The occasion is, I need a chocolate martini.”

Weather permitting.

“…With one headlight…”

Spring cleaning is neither.

Use the weather to your advantage.
(That actually sounded like a legitimate tip, actually.)

Happy Birthday.
(Snarky comment inside.)

It can sometimes be stressful but the trick is to have fun.
(Actually, come to think of it, that's good for most things.)

“Whistling tunes, we hid in the dunes by the seaside…”
Tired of waiting and watching.
“…If looks could kill, they probably will…”
Tired of killing time.
“…Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games…”
Tired of the games.
“…Hiding out in treetops, shouting…”
Tired of silently screaming.
“…In games without frontiers…”
Tired of fighting for nothing.
“…War without tears…”

Avocado basically is butter.
But with more cow.
Less cow.
Right, that way.

More or less.

No, trust me, this is going somewhere.
Because I was about to be wrap it up counselor.

It’s like how there’s a statute of limitations for wallposting.
Uh oh, Dannyrules.

I’m sorry, Schriever Air Force Base cannot come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?

haha can be either anticipatory or responsive.

How the Raviolo Got Its Toasted.

That famous Kipling story.
From the Just So Cookbook.

Every day Calypso is discovering a new cubby on my desk to climb into. Today is Topleftday.

Don’t see the trees for the forest.

“The perfect halo…”

Lightning never strikes.

I’m 3/3. Forgive me, but I’m having too awesome a day to be modest.
“That’s a pretty good average in baseball.”
It’s the opposite of a strikeout.
“The opposite of a strikeout is a hit.”
A strikeout is 0/3. The opposite of a strikeout, therefore, is 3/3. But a hit is only 1/3.
“So what’s the opposite of a strikeout? Going the cycle?”
That’d be 4/4.
“Be careful, don’t jinx it.”
Can’t. 2/3 would be jinxable. 3/3, that’s already awesome.

Twice.

“…The lightning in me that strikes relentless…”

$10 for being a nazi, $10 for not.

Censorship nazi. Not killing-Jews nazi.

“Any time I need to see your face I just close my eyes / And I am taken to a place…”

Walking through cloudmistdreamland, describing the surreality of the night until the phone call is interrupted by the other party saying Hold that thought as they go brush their teeth, with the tone of giving instructions to watch their phone, lest it sprout legs and scurry off like a paramecium insect, like an animated footstool in, say, “Beauty and the Beast”, and when you bring the phone back out of the peripheral vision of the mind’s eye it is no longer a phone, but the scurrying footstool, until you look at it and it stops scurrying and waits for you to look away again.

“…I don't need to try to explain / I just hold on tight…”

I liked watching the spectacular collapse of Massachusetts institutions much more last week when it was against the Ravens.

Take a drive, without the quasi-useful instructions or quasi-helpful advice.

“Attaches to your steering wheel for easy access to a writing and drink storage surface. The Go Office Wheel Mate Steering Wheel Desk is flat for writing and perfect for lunch or a snack. This Go Office Wheel Mate Steering Wheel Desk stores neatly in your car when used with the larger Auto Exec Laptop Car Desk. For safety reasons, never use this product while driving”

It’s remarkable how warm 32F can feel.

Bear With Us

“It’s spelled with a Y.”

Safari stops in the amazon, but it’s a little buggy.

I hold Sunkist in too high regard to use it as a scapegoat, even secondhand.

Bad Bar Mitzvah theme: Sound of Music.

“Because what’s more Jewish than nuns and Nazis?”

“I like my women like I like my crosswords…”
With a hint of British style, and a passionate outburst, and then bottom lip quivering? (7)

&lit

Metaschadenfreude: the gift that keeps on giving.

This should be amusing to you for 2 reasons.
“What's the third?”
1) R[]’s misfortune
2) A[] taking pleasure in R[]’s misfortune
3) Me taking pleasure in A[] taking pleasure in R[]’s misfortune

I don’t play games to win; I’m not even sure I play games primarily to have fun. While I certainly don’t play to lose, nor to not have fun, the motivation goes beyond. To experience within a set of rules, to share the experiences. I want to explore, to discover, to learn about which move to make, regardless of whether it is the right move or not; and to not be limited from many moves. The chance that I could win, may lose, will probably lose- it has nothing to do with why I am going. And thereby I enjoy, and thereby I will have fun.

Regardless the game, regardless the subject, there is a motivation; and there are probably more reasons beyond. So whither the world where games must be won?

(Est Ludovicum.)

SPIFfy.

I like to think of it as the Save the PIzza Fund.

Draw down.

“The deception with tact / Just what are you trying to say…”

This IM is severely lacking in transitions, says the high school English teacher part of me. Some good ideas, but you need to put more thought into outlining them. C-

“…One thing leads to another…”

It’s one thing to shoplift a USB memory key.
It’s another to shoplift a razor blade, use the blade to open the memory key, leave the blade in the memory key package, and shoplift the memory key.

Shoplifting is not a game; and especially not a text adventure game.

“Why aren’t you seizing the boy?”
”I have a big head and little arms.”

Arms and a man.

“With such short arms, how does a T-Rex get up?”
Now all I can think about is, how does a T-Rex get up in the morning, because his arms are too short to hit his alarm clock.

Brunch is a morning meal with others.
Breakfast is I’m still wearing pajamas.

I have enough trouble finding enough higher purpose for the irrevocable word, to allow me to understand the fanatical devotion to a particular sect. Moleskine is a religion.

Woke up at 7 and went to sleep at 10, but it was the wrong 7 and 10.
Time going backwards.

“You can do what you want, just seize the day…”

Not ready to switch from two-thousand to twenty, but I resolve to change this year.

“…It's a beautiful life…”

“A cello lying in its case…”

When running away to teach in Europe and be sheep farmers, take cello lessons at least for a month.

“…And she fights for her life as she goes in a store / With a thought she has caught by a thread…”

A sheep farmer is less formal than a shepherd. Shepherd has a doctorate; sheep farmer just has a BA in Sheep.

“…A winter melody she plays / The thunder makes her contemplate…”

Counting sheep, and then it’s time to wake.

“…And counting the change as she goes / Nobody knows…”

“Don't scream about / Don't think aloud…”

The pile of dirty dishes in my mind are drying.

“…December clouds are now covering me…”

There are 3 types of hotels: the Contemporary, the Polynesian, and the Grand Floridian.

“They come in ones and twozles…”

Aw. Lumpy.

I can tell this is my bag because it’s boxy.
I can tell this is my bag because it’s Lumpy.

Day 222
Human goes to Disneyworld.
Fish goes to Heaven.

So long, and thanks for all.

Current standings
1) Human
2) Cat

You know, technically this is the farthest apart we've ever lived.
Well, except for Rome.
Well, hm, fine.
Sorry.
That felt different. Because I was being at Wash U, around lots of people.
No, I know what you mean. I feel bad about the counterexample.
It feels farther when I'm by my onesies. Slash twosies.
Like, it's far apart technically on the x axis, yes, but it was closer on the y axis, or something.
Riiight right right right right right. Sorry. Once you get in the typing groove of a word it feels pretty cool. Because they're all nearby, on the keyboard, unlike us.

If anyone is trying to reach me, I’m being awesome for a week.

You know the type.
Times New Roman.

“This is my December…”
Holiday, bonus.
“…This is my snow-covered home…”
Inclement, weather.
“…This is me alone…”
Delivered, pizza.
“…Just wish that I didn’t feel like there was something I missed…”
Massage, the truth.
“…Take back all the things I said…”
Rebook, flight.
“…And I gave it all away / Just to have somewhere to go to…”
The keys, to it all.
“…This is me pretending / This is all I need…”

“It's time to be so brutally honest about the way we know we long for something fine
when we pine…”

There is a wonderful moment when “What music do you like?” is realized to be conversational, not confrontational.

“…It's laid out before us / Who are we to break down…”

Judgment need not be judgmental.

“…And we try / It's too easy just to fall apart…”

On some cold long work-filled winter days, all I really need is a small gift, the merest token, a little sign. One that reads “Do not use microwave while space heater is on”.

[Though I could also use a catsitter for 12/20-12/25. Let me know if available.]

Even though the bookstore had won its independence, the subcorporation had one final nasty surprise in store. The employees returned from court to find their entire receiving department in shambles. For the subcorporation had voided all existing orders as they left. There was only one box of bestsellers in the entire store, only enough bestsellers to meet 1 day’s demand. And it would take 8 business days before a new shipment of bestsellers would arrive.

The Story of Chanukkah as Told by One Bookstore Employee to Another

But another miracle occurred. Somehow the supply of bestsellers grew to meet the full 8 days’ demand, without any loss in sales.

140 characters is just long enough to say nothing.

The 5 most unhealthy words of any relationship are: stop with the conspiracy theories.

A holiday miracle: the oil runs out, but there is just enough left to finish the batch of sufganiyot.

“On the first day…”

7 more days to dance like flickering candle flames, with songs sung to unknown melodies, music accompanying an anonymous voice of experience being cast into the air, around which leaves fall.

You can’t do that on a math test, put the answer is not 6.
Yeah, if you do, you’ll get a not 100.
And then you get into not college.

Not how it should work.

If our life were a TV show, the producers would come over to tell us to stop saying that we’d be so funny if we were on a TV show.

“I simply must go / But baby, it’s cold outside…”

When it’s great to come home from work to a space heater is when it’s hard to bring a space heater home from work.

“…The answer is no / But baby, it’s cold outside…”

Take your pie to work day.

Enough people complained about discrimination so it became take your dessert to work day.

“Did you just write ‘comprised of’? Because I guarantee you meant ‘composed of’. I mean, I guarantee it.”
Did you just write “composed of”? Because I guarantee you meant “composed of”. I mean, I guarantee it. (Which is technically even still valid.)

The only way to make an awkward situation more awkward is to acknowledge it.

There are shredder people, and there are copier people. And I think you’re a shredder, except my mind just Scrubs-tangented into you being a TMNT villain.

Medical show.

The new Scrubs takes place in a teaching hospital. And there's a character that Dr. Cox only calls by number. And another character with an exaggerated Australian accent.
Hubs, or Scrouse?

“When it's over, then I cheer / I'm glad it's only once a year…“

I like listening to Christmas songs only in months that don’t start with D.
(One day in, already sick.)

“…I hate Christmas…”

(Hot + bubble) x (teas + baths)

Things to be thankful for.

[What a Person at a Thanksgiving Table Wouldn’t Say]

Helen Keller : Apples to Apples :: Tyrannosaurus Rex :: Jewish Apples to Apples

When you’re composing your analogies, do you ever wonder whether to do abcd or acbd?
I always wonder that. I’m not just making fun of you.

laguja
the human body is sacred

Saw Pirate Radio. The futility of trying to legislate taste by anything other than direct expression of preference wedges music within the morality and practicaliy of property, the futility of and the desire for containment. And yet, the conflict is juxtaposed with a Truman Showlike ensemble voyeurism, with music merely an accompanying melody, love and freedom to a syncopated jig. Yo, ho, ho.

Woman Key
The Bombing Begins in Five Minutes

Hyperzen.

Around Which Leaves Fall
This wasn’t supposed to be an Away Message. It was to be an IM, or an e-mail, or a monologue. But IMs require the audience to not log off in the pause between the last letter of my last word and the enter key. E-mails- with that Christmas morning of finding a present under the tree, having a subject line, a movie trailer that hypes interest, demanding that the message live up the promised premise- e-mails require investment of a reader, who must bate their breath and click to open. Monologues require enough shame to read a script, enough trust to give a script over to an alien performer.

There are so many media, all of them different: e-mails, mass e-mails, IMs, texts, phone, voicemail, facebook, basement. But sometimes the timing just doesn't fit, the medium just doesn't match. It's a shame about the message, but there's nothing to do, except acknowledge and accept it.

I think I like this message after all. Enough to give it an evocative title and cast it into the air, into whatever medium may receive my words, around which leaves fall.

Before they even know how to take turns and stop squirming, they know how to open apps, snap pictures, load slideshows. The iPhone may be instinctive to use, and yet that is not the inclination of humanity.

They're not used to dealing with adults. I want to just sit them down.

Travel, adventure, enchiladas, opportunities, free food, kind words.
There are enough awesome things that I’m not even upset about the $50.

All I ask is for undeniable proof.