Exene stumbled fitfully toward John, who had a hard time handling the bass.
Billy’s grin seemed unusually wide. DJ’s skinpounding seemed fragile, on this night. The band forgot lyrics, skipped bridges, generally seemed out of things, distracted, a shadow of their former selves.
Then the cops arrived.
(Originally written as a part of NaDruWriNi 2004.)
Fellow MeFite and undeclared internet lingo pope Languagehat semi-recently posted on an internet-only coinage, the undeclaimed and unpunctuated use of the word
what
on a line by itself in comment threads. Generally speaking, the usage connotes an unemotive but nonplussed response to novel stimuli. Something like your grandmother processing the concept of trepanation, or your parents’ response to your announcement of your impending polyamorous marriage.
Looking over my email and blog posts, it’s clear that I have now been a homeowner for three years. My emotional response to this has only ever been at best
what
.
It remains so. I seem to be less actively angry about it, something which I put down to my being now three years closer to the end of my life.
Honestly, how do you people DO it? Engaging in casual conversation at social gatherings, I casually ask my fellow homeowners, for example, “Do you suddenly sit up in the dark watches, drenched in cold sweat, certain that a flamethrowing tank approaches your doors due to your inattentive mortgage payments?”
Apparently they don’t. My whole life, well-meaning and deeply ignorant fools have repeatedly told me that I am not like other people, that I am different, and (I especially loathe the ignorant selfish inaccuracy of this part) that they love me for that. It seems that this observation, which I have hated as long as i have heard it, is in fact true. I am different.
Anyway, three years in, I hate this as much as I did on day one. With luck, that ulcer will just eat me away from the inside and I will never even know I’m dead. Happy Halloween, kids! Come by our house and I swear, I will scare you so badly you will never leave home again.
And stay off my lawn!
I have had some hard days lately. Today is one, no doubt. October becomes November with agonizing deliberation this year.
LOVING World of Goo. If Tim Burton and Dr Seuss had been admirers of Lemmings, This might be something they could have made.
It reminds me of Oddworld, to an extent, and also the Neverhood, my favorite ’90s computer game. Less in the particulars than the feel with respect to Neverhood, I guess.
When I woke up this morning, I felt very sad, but did not remember why for a minute or two. It was odd – the sadness was a distinct, physical feeling, which for a few moments was disconnected from anything I could hook it up to in memory.
My ex-bandmate Karel apparently died yesterday. It’s sad news.
Here is a portrait I took for a demo cover back in 2001. He was wearing his guitar – you can see the strap on his shoulder.
Now, this is more like it.
Ask MetaFilter on the iconic image of a barrel-clad pauper. Useful in one’s economic planning.
Ed Welch’s Vintage Eyeglasses and Antique Spectacles.
I recently had an antique rimless set of eyeglasses recut for my prescription. I purchased the spectacles on eBay for about $5. Unfortunately, the right temple earhook was broken. I had them repaired, and they are wearable, but the repair work shortened the earhook to the point that they require relatively frequent adjustment.
Perhaps Ed will be able to assist me.
Look at this amusing Google ad I saw in my Gmail window a minute ago:
It linked to http://www.google.com/, so I’m guessing it’s a test ad of some sort. I was disappointed, and had hoped to find some clever joke behind the footype.
uih! kjh kjh. uih!