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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

whoops

I was off baby-wrangling again and totally forgot to write anything.

HAPPY HROMNICE! Happy so I've heard the sun might come back someday, that's nice.

Uhm. It's Squire's birthday today. We're all very excited as he hasn't canceled it yet. There used to be a story around here somewhere about how he canceled his sixth birthday, but that sort of went away in the Great Blog Tragedy of 2006 (because I was writing this thing back in 2003, my friend, back when we kept blogs on typewriters) and so you'll just have to trust me that it's a really good story. But anyway he hasn't canceled this one, so apparently Friar and I are hosting a mess of boys (that's the collective noun, right?) at a bowling alley. We rented the whole bowling alley! Your 12th birthday was never so good, was it.

The funniest thing that happened in my brain this week was trying to theoretically explain Alanis Morisette's cover of "My Humps" to someone who has never heard the song or heard of Alanis Morisette; the Obvious Logical Comparison was "It's like if Sylvia Plath wrote a version of 'Hills Like White Elephants.'" It would be full of bloody clumps of hair and tissue and you would feel somewhat soiled after you read it.

I think I have time to shave my head before the party. The hair (though not in bloody clumps) is getting Really Long, like possibly even 2 inches, and it looks ridiculous when I take off my hat. Am I more likely to scare the kiddies if I'm bald, or if I have hat head? These are the times that try my soul. I won't speak for the rest of humanity.

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One response to “whoops”

  1. patricia Avatar
    patricia

    Happy Belated Birthday to Squire!! He shares a birthday with Michael Tippett.
    Great description of “My Humps.” I GET IT!!
    You and Culley should be a pair with hat hair. He’s taken to living in hat.
    Take care of my boy & yours! Or not.

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