This is what I look like when I'm waiting for a salad. It's entirely a different mood from when, say, I just took a Steak Florentine out of the oven.
Driving back from Thanksgiving at Dad's chalet we encountered the following road-kill:
and a trout.
Had I actually stopped to retirieve the trout it would have been the biggest fish I had ever "caught". It was at least the size of a keyboard, maybe larger. I can honestly say I thought it was about three bananas in length.
Today, a student approached me to alert me to the fact that a sparrow was spotted in the Dean's area. Despite my tossing it crumbs from my sandwich it refused to let itself be appoached - much less caught. It made for a fun friday morning. The sparrow remains on the loose.
What else... oh yeah.. I was thinking about tattoos the other day, wondering what kind of tattoo would best represent me. It bugged me that any of the designs I thought would suit me wouldn't but today I saw something that made me realize that my one interest that may have flagged and wavered from time to time but was a constant since my early reading days was a rocket-ship. The design that came to mind was the Doubleday Science Fiction logo - not that I would reproduce their brand on my body. Well, not for free at any rate.
So that's it. Nothing deeper than that for the journal. baby steps, amirite?
Fac.: What day am I taking down the comic show?
Me: Dunno. All I can attest to is that right now we have a comic show but soon we’ll be comic sans.
Fac.: Damn you, "paperpath". I just shot oatmeal through my nose.
I've been teaching my neighbour's 10 year old daughter a few drum rudiments over the past couple of years. It's fun to see someone take what you show them and run with it, make it their own.
A few months back a friend of the parents had a child-size drum kit that they no longer wanted (I know, right?) so offered it to "M" (the daughter).
It turns out that M is really taking to the instrument, so much so that the kit is slowly disintegrating under her feet. Her hi-hat is totally shot and makes playing a real chore so I donated my old hats and stand to the cause.
So much happiness!
She'll be teaching me new grooves within the year, I can feel it. :-)
So there's been some turmoil.
Sweetie's mom was buried in late May, then her sister died suddenly a week and a half later. We hadn't even received the credit card bills for the trip to bury her mom when we received the call. Fucking Hell. What a double whammy to my poor sweetie. :-(
It's been almost a month since this happened and she's less likely to burst into tears than she was but there are still bad days amongst the less bad days.
I try to comfort her, I've taken over most of the cooking and tend to her pretty much non-stop when I get home from work. It's not a an imposition but I really wish for the time when the good days outnumber her bad ones. My poor sweetie.
Nothing of note other than that. Just simple things like teaching my neighbour's 10 yr old daughter how to play the drums. I kind of get why people are drawn to teaching careers; it's pretty darn rewarding when the student clicks into what you're teaching.
Vacation is imminent, so I look forward to some time out on the bike path, nerding out with my D&D friends, visiting Dad and drinking all his single malt, (I jest!), and generally stripping away all the demands on my time and soul from my clients at work. And, of course, taking care of Sweetie "as events warrant".
A shout out to Marjolène who when times were at their darkest appeared on my doorstep as though an angel . Thank you for the music, thank you for the beer. <3
Cancer-free since 2018. Let's hope it lasts!
So I was surfing random weirdness from my favourite foul-mouthed aggregator Fucking Homepage.com when I came across this gem from a few years back.
Thoughts and Prayers, a game from 2016 is a clunky game with a strong message. Because I kind of lol'd at the end of the game I know that there's at least one like-minded individual who will be temporarily cheered up by this - until the grim reality reasserts itself, of course.
Related: Anthony Jeselnik I wasn't looking for this exactly, but what with my
mad ninja sketchy google skillz that's what I found. Oh! and because I have a bit of tenacity: Hannibal Buress
Let's be careful out there....
I find that there's so much pressure to write properly on this platform as opposed to the muddy patchwork that is so commonly seen on Facebook. It's a litle daunting to be honest so that's why I post irregularly. But hello! Ping, and all that. I'm here!
Over after- dinner drinks the subject of our lack of intimacy came up. It was pretty organic and there was no defensiveness or other realities that make a conversation hellish. No, it was all pretty straightforward. We discussed where we felt we were in our lives and what we wanted for ourselves and for each other so that was good. She then surprised me by telling me that I could use the services of an escort if I needed to. If ever there was a record-scratch moment in my life that was it right then and there.
I don't think that seeing an escort is a solution. I was never into casual sex growing up and I can't see how I'd change from commitment-based love-making to an undoubtedly unfullfilling hurried sex act andfeel okay with it. It's more the surprise of the offer that has me worrying away at this. I wonder if she thinks that a simple hook(er)-up has the equivalent value of a more profound experience; and has she thought so little of our love-making these past years. OMG, am I a horrible lover? Was she never emotionally invested in our love-making? Did she hate having sex? With me? All these years?
Or maybe I'm reading too much into this. Or maybe I should call a family counselor.
On now to lighter fare. According to WWW.IWL.ME this entry's writing style matches James Joyce's and I have an internet badge to prove it to be true.