Yesterday, I decided to leave my copy of James Joyce's Finnegans Wake in the upstairs bathroom. There's nothing more entertaining than reading barely comprehensible prose while you're doing nature's business.
It's gray and cold outside, but toasty warm in. I need to start my work day in a bit but I'm sort of mesmerized by the view out the window. You would think that after all of these years my eyes might get bored with staring at trees and snow but that just doesn't seem to be the case. Same thing goes for staring at flames. Like most people, a good camp fire or crackling fireplace can keep me entertained for hours.
We went out to dinner with some friends last night. After that we saw a local band play. Then some good 'ole hangin' out time was on order. Eric related a story about how he'd told his friend Adam that I had "hit a moose." Apparently, Adam was thinking along the lines of Mongo in the movie Blazing Saddles. No, I did not punch a moose. I'm not that tall.
Adam showed up a few minutes later and we helped Eric with some hard drive/iTunes issues on his iMac. These things are not related to the moose incident. At least, I don't think so.
Eric and Mary's friend Austin didn't make it to the show last night because he hit a deer while driving to the venue. His car is messed up but the wife and kids are OK. No, he didn't punch the deer either (C'mon, you know you were thinkin' it).
Every sports headline lately seems to have the acronym 'BCS' in it. What the hell is 'BCS'...and do I really care?
I can't watch or listen to the news anymore. Every day they find a new way to repackage the ideas that the world is going to hell and that all food will kill us. Sure, some of it might be true but I can't do anything about most of it and there's no way I'm gonna give up eating cheese or drinking coffee. Besides, a nice, ripe brie and freshly-brewed Ethiopian Yirgacheffe have more character than most health 'experts,' politicians, or their sad pundits.
TheWife™ took the new car to work today. She had to gas it up on the way in and I just bet she forgot to reset the trip odometer.
After all of these years, I still like Warhol's Cambell's soup cans.
Five seconds of monkey mind...30 minutes of writing.
Maybe I should take that Joyce book out of the bathroom.