Brief Lee

I saw my first big car with an Obama sticker on it. It was a big black Hummer 3 with a "yes we did" decal in the back window. I'm guessing energy independence was not a key deciding factor for that voter. The driver did keep the SUV between the lines and that's all I care about. Just an observation, not a judgment.

Public Service Announcement:
Check your deadbolt locks. They need to have an inner strike plate with two big honkin' screws that tap into the wall. If it's not like that, your deadbolt may not be any stronger than the regular door latch. At least that's how mine is set up.

I've begun a Feng Shui rearrangement in my office. We'll see if it sparks outer genius and inner peace. Serenity now. I realized today that I've been staring at the same wall for way too long. It's time to stare at the other wall. Also, it will improve the look of my oovoo backdrop. What's oovoo? www.oovoo.com It's good free video conferencing for business, pleasure and pleasurable business.

I know I'm supposed to like Kanye West, but... no. I don't think so. And yes, I saw him on "Idol" briefly. Now I'm watching basketball.

I'm still watching basketball. Earlier, I washed dishes for the first time in several days.

sigh.

Short Pants Long Pants

I've disabled the Hindi translator on the title line, so no more squiggly unreadables.

Speaking of short pants. It's that time again. Up in the 80's and sunny. I went outside and read topless on Sunday afternoon. Needless to say, it was a wild ride. While I was only outside for about an hour, I managed to get a slight sunburn on my front. Monday afternoon before dinner I let my back see the sun for the first time in about a year and half to complete my spring base. My goal is not a coppertone tan, but albino pale has got to go.

The arrival of short pants means that any onesy/union suit wearing is done until late October. It's sad. I hate to move on like this. I'm not man enough for this. I'm not man enough for short pants. I am, however, man enough for wrist bands. Cool wrist bands from Fox. That's right, the cool Fox gear that all the kids are wearing - and all the extreme sports dudes. Crazy long shorts and extreeeme logos. All freebies and all good. Jealous? Thought so. Don't be hatin'. Do not be hating. You, please do not be hating upon me, hokay?

I also got some long pants.

विडियो अपडेट Video update

The video upload was a success. However, it did not download as fast as I thought. Upon further review, here's how it went down.

I uploaded video, then started typing on the blog page. While I was typing it was downloading... so I thought the download was superfast, but it probably wasn't. But, you're not stuck staring at a screen doing nothing while it downloads - you can move on to other things. Still cool. Definite upside. And the streamability on the published page is pretty good, in my opinion.

Also upon further review... it's time to clip my nails and go outside in the sun.

Again, Wayne Gibbous is pushed aside.

I'm out.

फ्रिद्गासौरुस एक्टिवेट! Fridgasaurus ACTIVATE!

Trying the video upload. We shall see what comes of it. As with other images here, not likely to be relevant to the blog at hand. Strange that it took no time to load this but takes some time to load pictures. No time vs Some time. No contest.

My apologies to those of you expecting (if not hoping for and being desirous of) a new segment in the pre-apocalyptic tales of Wayne Gibbous. The Moon Man. He has a child you know. A son, of course. They're estranged... the distance between son and Moon Man expands and contracts at regular intervals for reasons determined long ago by forces determined long before that. He may have a daughter... we're not sure yet. The reason? A daughter wouldn't lend herself to the easy wordplay necessary to make the story tick.

Tick like my refrigerator. Which as it turns out, was not really cooling things. It would tick trying to get the compressor fan motor started and initiate cooling. Tick tick tick tick. No dice. Julian came by and checked it out, complete with Volt-Ohm-Meter and concluded that the compressor fan motor was bad. Julian, famous for his calendar, his Caesar era calendar. And now even more so for his refrigerator troubleshooting. Now, if you give the fan blade a quick spin (like an old airplane propeller start up) it will whirr to life and run. Run and cool and run some more. Then, eventually, click. And click some more. Slowly warming. So the motor works, but can't start. I don't get it either. But 30 dollars and 30 minutes should fix the problem if the problem is as advertised.

This writer's head hurts and the very same head is interested in the success or failure of the video upload. So we'll make this a quickie and git-r-done.

An aside: The Liberty Tax Service mascot guy was rocking in sub freezing temps earlier this week and now enjoys a sunny 70 degree afternoon. We're all enjoying it.

a'ight

Fridgasaurus ACTIVATE!

प्रेलुदे तो चंगे Prelude to Change

Knee deep in vitamin D is a bit of an overstatement. Ankle deep is more accurate. Wayne Gibbous was knee deep only at first, when he was on his knees. Not praying, mind you. Rather, he was down on all fours looking for the quarter that just fell from his hand. As the reader longs for specifics, a more detailed account follows, to include gently blossoming character development and slow, steady swells of rising action.

The rest area is mostly empty. A handful of eighteen wheelers are idling in the dark as their drivers lay idle, sleeping for a few hours before continuing on to wherever it is that trucks go. Everywhere I suppose. It is a bitterly cold night. This stretch of the West Virginia Turnpike goes through some pretty remote mountains. The frigid air and biting wind makes the place seem all the more desolate. The humming tractor-trailers help, but it remains a lonely place. During the day there is free coffee available, which would certainly feel great right now, but it's well past midnight and the only options are cold drinks and stale snacks. Wayne Gibbous would be deeply disappointed in his late night snacking options if he ever got to the vending machines.

He pulls his 85 Honda Prelude into a space right by the bathrooms to avoid a long walk through the cold. Reaching into his pockets to determine his food budget he remembers he has to keep another buck and a quarter for the last toll booth. Placing that money aside he counts up the rest of his change. He's got a couple dollars. He's also got some lint and few sticks of doublemint gum (unnecessary details, but details nonetheless). If he's lucky, he can get a drink and a bag of pretzels, or maybe cheetos. That will be enough to get him through to morning. By then he'll be near Knoxville and can grab some breakfast.

Ready to brave the cold, he opens his door and stands up. Shutting the door behind him he drops one of his quarters. Wayne would normally not go looking for a dropped coin, but this quarter is the difference between a full drink/snack combo or an either or. This one is vital. It's a nicely lit rest stop, but not lit well enough to find a coin from 6 feet away. High above, a sliver of moon offers no help whatsoever.

He crouches down on the cold pavement and quickly spots it. It's tucked behind the tire. He gets on his knees to balance himself and reaches. Just a little out of his reach, he repositions himself, then back to his knees. A big tanker truck slowly pulls behind his car - not in the designated truck parking and not even in a space. It stops directly behind him him. The driver gets out.

"Do you mind? It's kind of an emergency."
"What?"
"I've got to park here for a minute, maybe two. My truck's acting up and I need to take a leak."
"No problem."

He can maneuver his Prelude out of the spot even with the truck blocking him. Plus, Wayne is focused on his quarter. He still can't reach it, it's as if it moves farther out of reach each time he lunges at it. Just a little further.

"Thanks."

The trucker runs into the bathroom and out of sight. Out of mind. Out of body, in fact. But Wayne is focused on his quarter. He hears a drip, then a piddle, then a giggle (a giggle?) then a tidal wave smacks the pavement behind him.

"Jesus!"

The tanker is spilling its contents of 2% pasteurized, homogenized, vitamin D fortified milk all over the parking lot, and Wayne is covered in it. A bath of cold milk on a cold night in the middle of cold mountains with no change of clothes (cold or warm). Fantastic. And let's not forget, a quarter buried beneath hundreds of gallons of cow juice.

A long night just got a lot longer, a bad day just got started and a quarter that jumped ship moments ago set up the whole chain of events. It was years in the making and required too many conspirators to count. Make no mistake, two bits just stuck it to Wayne Gibbous, and Gibbous knew it. He also had a feeling there was more to come. More change that he couldn't handle.

G'night.

सुन एंड मून Sun and Moon

G'day.

The refrigerator ticks like a clock - a ticking clock that keeps food fresh and cold. It has been clicking and ticking for the last several months. I should be concerned, but not knowing what it means is just fine for now. It is still rather new and it still keeps things cold. Just a nervous tick. Nervous it might run out of food, perhaps. Is your refrigerator running out of food? Then you better catch it, and fill it with food. Ah, pranks. It quietly moans as if to gain strength for the next click, the next tick.

In between ticks I hear rain dripping off the roof and pinging the air conditioner. Not as steady as the fridge - more occasional. A polyrhythmic exercise - 7 vs 4 and 9 vs 5 and other more complex combinations that would make any ethnomusicologist salivate. It's been an all day event with brief downpours, sullen drizzles and occasional placekeeping mists. The rain picks up steam and the beat outside on the A/C unit turns into a timpani roll. There's an occasional rimshot as an acorn makes its way from branch to air to roof to air to air conditioner to air to my ear to my brain to my hands to the keyboard to the screen to the blog to your eyes to your brain. STOP. These heavier beats are few and far between, sometimes days measure the lapses in rain music. The refrigerator continues to keep time.

Tomorrow sunshine will fill the outside world. Sun - the glow with a silent voice all its own, Vitamin D, antidepressant, grower of food, maker of light, Moonfriend - Sun. While I can appreciate its appeal, I prefer its spinoffs more than the original. Shade, moonshine and earthshine among others have more mystery and depth than the yellow circle in the corner of every child's drawing. I'm not being totally fair. The sun holds its fair share of secrets. It has a great poker face. So great we're told from a young age not to even look at it. The moon we look at almost every time it makes an appearance, ever changing but predictable. Rise and fall, wax and wane. Alias: Wayne Gibbous.

The sun itself is the bright-eyed cover for its sinister pox. Sun spots have a twisted agenda all their own - a motion and language all their own. See spot. See spot run. Sun spot run. Sun spots are the price we pay for the bounty the Sun gives us. Wayne Gibbous (if that is his real name) would care more about Sun Spots and their malicious intents if he didn't maintain such a safe distance from the yellow menace. Plus, he only shows up for a few days then hides on the dark side listening to Pink Floyd. The rest of us are stuck listening to Katrina and the Waves, day after day after day. Lucky bastard.

So, that's a rough introduction to the scene and a few bit players (and a major character) that find themselves knee deep in Vitamin D on a most peculiar October night and day.

G'night.

थे लाश The Leash

Anticipation. Anticipation. You hit the power button and your laptop awakens from a brief slumber. Wait for it. The startup screen slowly reveals itself. Tap tap tap taptap tap enter. You log on. Dell runs through a series of antibodies, antiviruses and other protective layers you'll never really understand. Doubleclick. Firefox opens. Your pulse quickens as you scroll down your list of favorites. Bloglas McBlogland is just one more click away. And on this special day... you're treated to some brand spanking new prose. No limericks this time around. No haiku. No iambic pentameter. No mnemonic devices. No feng shui. Poetry in motion, if poetry was prose and motion was utter stillness - poetry in motion.

Brown Dog licks you repeatedly. Licking the same place again and again and again. Again. There must be infinite layers to your flavor - appreciated only through intense lickery. No. There is an end to it. Brown Dag takes his leave. Wanders about. You only hear an occasional sniff in the near distance as it searches for something else to lick or lay down upon. Brown Dog's disappeared once again. Black Dog would always find trouble in these silent moments. Brown Dog only finds more silence in these silent moments. Retreating to its quarters with no bribery or incentive. Other times, no amount of bribery or incentive would coax such movement, only The Leash would yield the desired result. The Leash - master and friend, punishment and reward, restrainer and liberator, noun and noun, smile and frown. The Leash - the latest thriller from John Grisham now in paperback and in a theater near you. Denzel Washington plays disabled lawyer Gruden Peters who has a service dog named Valdez. Big oil has nearly taken control of the US government and only a missing capsule of microfilm from 1988 can stop them from winning a Supreme Court case that will put Jacob Exxon in the White House. Un-ironic spoiler - the microfilm was in the dog's leash which falls to the floor when --> Valdez jumps up and gives Exxon a black eye. Sadly reviewed as Grisham's most uninspired work since The Paralegal.

G'night.

You know it's tax time...

Don't be fooled by the lame title... this blog post is CHOICE!

Despite the preaching in my previous post, I find myself indoors computing on my couch. Granted, it's cold and dark outside... so indoors is the place to be. I will find my way to a new spot in the room. The corner by the bookcase looks good, if my expanding arse can fit there, I'll do it.

It didn't fit. So off to another corner. Also cramped. But I've found a spot on the floor. Mickey McWeenis has taken a spot on the couch - so everyone is comfortable.

TOPIC: The guy on the side of the road who's dressed up as the Statue of Liberty trying to get me to get my taxes done with those that hired him.

It's wrong on so many levels. I won't deride this guy... he's out getting relatively fresh air and exercising all day long for what can't be a whole lot of money. An honest living. While the obvious concern is the quality of tax advice one might receive from a company that has a mascot out on the street drumming up business, my thoughts go elsewhere. How is this guy evaluated? What training has made him polished enough to meet management's expectations? Was he taught the big Moses gestures or is he just riffing out there? The guy on Market Street and Gordon Road here in Wilmington NC is INTO it. I respect him. Eye contact with every driver. Cold as hell but he's doing his thing. How many people drive by and flick him off? It's got be in the thousands by the time April 15th rolls around. I tip my hat to anyone who does a job I could never do... and insane tax mascot, I tip it to thee.

disclaimer: I don't wear a hat primarily because it makes me look like I'm nine years old. This was not a problem when I was nine, but after say fourteen... it was time to hang it up. Nevertheless, I tip my hat figuratively.

Life Quiz:
1. What do you want to do with our life? fill in answer here: ___________________
2. Every day I ___________________
3. If your answer to #2 has nothing to do with answer #1 you've got a problem.

Dream every night, act on it every day and you've got a shot. Keep your eye on the ball and follow through.

It amazes me that my brain saves some quotes from my past and won't let them go. People I spent all my time with growing up, I can't remember a single thing they said to me. But a few things said to me by otherwise peripheral characters in my life stick out so strong. I'm not really sure why. I'm not sure if everybody's brain works like mine (pretty sure that's not the case - probably a good thing) and does the same thing. Keep your eye on the ball and follow through is one such phrase... damn good advice.

BLOG UPDATE: I hope to write more consistently with no purpose or direction. I failed my own life quiz. Time to keep my eye on the ball and follow through.

word.

After the hiatus

After a much deserved and under-appreciated sabbatical from bloggin', I've returned for the inaugural 2009 posting. Sit back with a bottle of your favorite cough syrup and enjoy.

topic 1: outdoor computing

I highly recommend this. I, like you, often find my ass glued to chair or couch when computerizing and more often than not, that chair or couch is inside. Take your ass outside (with or without chair) and park it somewhere new. You'll find you can normally allow yourself 360 degrees of viewing opportunities. At last check that was a full circle. Not to mention the fact you can look up and down as well. Quite righteous. Our imaginations are vast but secluding them inside too often crushes spirit and adventure in us, unless tunnel vision is what you're into.

topic 2: CAPITALIZATION

I don't recommend this, nor do I recommend multiple exclamation points!!! What about question marks???? No to multiples... my one exception is my favorite grammatical crutch - the ellipses... sure to have an appropriate use but when in doubt it's my go to choice for punctuation. Don't be shy - the dash is also handy to have at the ready. I think grammar, story ideas and desire are the only things holding me back from writing the next great American novel.

topic 3: Facebook

Kudos to Mr Facebook for his better search/community structure when compared to Tom's Myspace. I see Myspace has integrated some similar features... good for all. Just scratching the surface of Facebook but so far I'm a fan. Despite the initial sinking feeling of a class reunion (not that I'd know) when seeing anciently familiar faces and the frustration of not seeing some others I've been wondering about, it looks like a good time. Being one who does a poor job of maintaining contact with old friends and who for the most part has friends with similar habits, Facebook should be a good safety net.

topic 4: Flight of the Conchords

A few winner performances. You can look back at early shows and one performance at a corporate gig and see how their timing and craft has improved. Brilliant? No, but a few things that make me laugh out loud... which I don't normally do. I heard an interview with them where they explained that the New Zealand sense of humor is very dry, so dry for some that there is no sense of humor at all. It's Business Time.

topic 5: Snowball

As in "and from there it just sort of snowballed." Everything snowballs. Start good snowballs and things can only get better. Start bad ones, and you get big nasty snowballs that roll back on top of you and everyone you know. Corny indeed, but pessimism is bullshit.

topic 6: Self-fulfilling prophecy

Is there any other kind? Think good thoughts.

Time to stop this outdoor computing... it's chilly and I'm delicate.

I'm a Simpsoid

Here I walk along Lake Springfield pondering life's mysteries.

Okley Dokley.

Surely this was a post worth waiting for, yes?