Author: elvis

It’s that time already?

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Doxy, it’s almost football season, already.

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Doxy, it’s almost football season, already.

How the fuck did that happen?

Pre-season starts next Saturday, august 6 with an unimportant Indianapolis vs. Atlanta game (Interesting only because it’s in Japan); your team kicks off preseason that monday, august 8.

My guys, the 49ers, get into it against Oakland on the following saturday, august 13. Hell, I wonder if I can get tickets to that one?

I’m starting to miss my season tickets. Last year it was easy to have them gone, the worst year to be a 49ers fan since the late 1970s. But I’m watching a new coach – and it seems, a coach with a clue – build a new team around a new quarterback. New defensive, offensive co-ordinators, new defensive scheme. Lots of new players, for once, where they’re need, on the O-line.

I’m cautiously optimistic about my team’s chances, for the first time in a couple years.

I’m looking at my calendar. Wow, it’s been a long year since last I sat here thinking about the start of football season. A year ago today I was getting ready to go to Fiji. I was thinking about how I was missing my first football season in years with my season tickets gone.

A long, long year. I have not been in the ocean since then; I’ve not been on vacation since then, not really (well, a short trip to Florida, too short, and a day here or there).

I don’t feel like the same person I was a year ago; in some ways I’m better, in some ways not. I feel as if that summer was the start of some rebirth for me, a process that maybe is still only beginning.

It’s almost fall, already, summer past it’s peak and on the down-slide. The year is past it’s halfway point. For many years, where the summer begins to ebb, I’ve looked forward to football season as the consolation prize for the loss of my favorite season. Sundays, monday nights, become the high point in my week. Last year, it felt deeply strange to not care about it, to look forward to friday, the end of my week, more than I looked forward to monday nights and the game.

I’m hoping for a better season, this year. Doxy, I’m hoping our teams, with our first and second draft picks, can crawl back outta the pit and make us proud.

Let’s make us a date, ok? Some year, I’ll take you to the superbowl. And maybe this time your guys will win.

[made with ecto]

Sun and Sea

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It’s been a while since I’ve sat at work and daydreamed about a sandy beach, diving exotic oceans, sailing sunny seas…. I want to sleep in a hammock under a palm tree.

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I can’t stop thinking about sun and sea today.

It’s been a while since I’ve sat at work and daydreamed about a sandy beach, diving exotic oceans, sailing sunny seas. Today I can’t stop picturing it.

I want to sleep in a hammock under a palm tree. I want to walk on a beach and feel my skin go tan. I want that salty feeling my skin has when I’ve been in and out of the ocean all day.

I need to be on a boat. It’s been too long. I feel good when I’m on a boat, at one with the universe. I’m made to be at sea, not land-locked in a valley.

I need to get the fuck outta here.

[made with ecto]

Can’t do nothin’ with a dull knife

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I own a lotta knives…. Finnish Pukko knives.

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I’m a knife geek.

I own a lotta knives. All sorts of knives. Pocket knives. Hunting knives. Balisong/butterfly knives. Switchblades. Bayonets. Finnish Pukko knives. Tactical folders. Skean Dubhs. And kitchen knives. Way more than I need. French, german. At least four serious chef’s knives (wait, no, it’s six). Several paring knives. Couple fillet knives. A butcher knife or two.

One of the key things is, I keep them fucking sharp. If they’re not close to being razors, what’s the point?

My all time favorite is the carbon steel french knife from Thiers-Issard. It takes an incredible edge, and like the knives I grew up using, it goes black with age. I love this knife.

But one of the facts is, you use knives, you’re gonna get cut. I got my first knife when I was six, and then made my first trip to the emergency room for stitches shortly after. Cooks get cut all the damned time.

Tonight I was making dinner; I grabbed the carbon steel knife, picked up my sharpener to freshen the edge (one of those ceramic deals with two rods in a big V). As usual, I hold the sharpener with my left hand, the knife in my right. Tonight, I missed the rod and whacked down hard enough on my hand to make an audible thunk.

Ow, thought, and then went on. It just felt like a whack. But then I realized how sharp this knife is. I looked at my hand, and there was a razor-thin red line. Then I bent the knuckle.

That’s gonna bleed a lot, I said to myself.

The thing with cuts on that hand is, they’re hard to bandage by yourself. After about three tries, I was about to call a friend to come help me. But the thing is, I don’t have the fucking patience. So I went for the biggest damned bandaid I could find, slapped it on, and finished dinner.

All this is, of course, only an excuse to try my new iSight camera out. But here’s the result.

Really though, I’m good with a knife. Damned good. I’m just not so good with bandages.

[made with ecto]

Blogosphere Dropout

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I really haven’t even thought about any entries of note in a week, I have not read anyone else’s blog in a week…. Even though I’ve been working like a dog all week, I still feel like I’ve been on vacation from everything.

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God, I feel like I’ve totally dropped out of the blogosphere. I really haven’t even thought about any entries of note in a
week, I have not read anyone else’s blog in a week. I’ve barely been on line, haven’t IM’d, have not answered email.

Even though I’ve been working like a dog all week, I still feel like I’ve been on vacation from everything. But now I feel oddly out of touch with the online world and have a lotta catch-up reading to do.

My bachelor week is about done. And while I didn’t go anywhere, still, I feel like I’ve had a vacation. My watch is in the shop for repair, and literally, it’s been a week since I knew what time it was; it’s been a week since I cared what time it was.

So what have I done? I’m trying to think. Not much, and yet I feel like I’ve been busy. Busy not doing anything important at all. I’ve been to a few dinners, watched a few movies, finished a couple books, written quite a bit. I’ve had too much to drink almost every night. I’ve talked to friends on the phone, I’ve hung out with topless, sunbathing lesbians, I’ve seen a movie, watched some TV, and just hung out a lot. I’ve been to a couple strip clubs, gone drinking with a group of guys I just met, watched porn movies. I’ve sat in the sun and done nothing. I’ve gone swimming at midnight and slept until 10am. I’ve gone for motorcycle rides and cooked for myself. Re-wired a friend’s AV system.

I have not read any Harry Potter. Waiting for the family to get home for that one. But I have read up on Harry Potter spoilers. I’m like that.

Apart from some writing and work, I’ve avoided my computer. As I said, little IM, no blogging or reading blogs. I’m behind on mashups over at MashupTown, I’m behind on everyone’s blogs; I don’t think I’ve left a blog comment in a week.

It’s been an interesting week. I have never truly lived alone. I haven’t been this alone in years; last time I was this alone, I crashed my motorcycle and spent most of the week barely able to walk with a back sprain. This is considerably better.

Yet it’s weird to get up in the morning and not see my kids; it’s weird to not read them stories before bed. It’s weird to not have anyone to cook for; it’s weird not to have the daily, constant chaos that comes from living with a family. That chaos is both the bane and the beauty of being a father, so it’s loss is both good and bad. It’s lovely to not have to run my dishwasher daily, to not have two loads of wash every day, to know any mess I have to clean, I made. But it’s a little empty to come home from work and not have anyone say Hi Daddy.

I miss ’em. Yet, this is good; it’s been therapeutic for me in many ways. Time to think, to relax, to not have to think about anyone’s needs but mine. I think we all need more of this; fathers, mothers, husbands, wives. Our kids, if they’re lucky, sometimes go to summer camp, and some of us get to go away to college. Grownups need summer camp now and then, I think. Particularly a summer camp with strippers and sunbathing, topless lesbians.

I must say though, I’m still tempted to go get my nipples pierced before everyone comes home. I’ve been thinking about it for a week, and I just might go do it, tonight, tomorrow. I would have gotten a tattoo, were not finances a little short this month, but some part of me wants to do something that leaves a mark. Other than walking into a door.

[made with ecto]

That’s why it’s candy

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That’s why it’s candy.I wrote a bit of this over in Ray’s comments, but I wanted to go into it here for a couple reaons. One is that I just read a very good article on Roald Dahl in The New Yorker.

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Candy doesn’t have to have a point. That’s why it’s candy.

I wrote a bit of this over in Ray’s comments, but I wanted to go into it here for a couple reasons.

One is that I just read a very good article on Roald Dahl in The New Yorker. I didn’t know a lot about him, other than vague rumors about his being a real bastard, and that (my eleven-year-old insists regularly) his first name is pronounced Roo-all, so this was pretty interesting.

Second, I wanted to highly recommend the new film, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

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work in progress

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But I finally hit a stride today and the words started to come, and I had that “don’t stop don’t stop” feeling I get when the writing is working. Now if I can switch into edit and re-write mode I might have something to put up in public soon.

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I actually have a story most of the way done. I hit the ending, though it needs a lotta editing. But I finally hit a stride today and the words started to come, and I had that “don’t stop don’t stop” feeling I get when the writing is working.

Now if I can switch into edit and re-write mode I might have something to put up in public soon. It’s been a while, not since the dirty xmas story last winter.

Fingers crossed…

[made with ecto]

Firefly

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God, I love Joss Whedon. “If they take the ship, they’ll rape us to death, eat our flesh and sew our skins into their clothing and if we’re very very lucky, they’ll do it in that order.””…Brought you some supper, but if you’d prefer a lecture, I’ve a few very catchy ones prepped.
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God, I love Joss.

“If they take the ship, they’ll rape us to death, eat our flesh and sew our skins into their clothing and if we’re very very lucky, they’ll do it in that order.”

“…Brought you some supper, but if you’d prefer a lecture, I’ve a few very catchy ones prepped. Sin and hellfire… one has lepers.”

“And I’d like to be king of all Londinum and wear a shiny hat.”

“Sweetie, we’re crooks. If everything were right, we’d be in jail.”

“We’re not gonna die. We can’t die, Bendis. You know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.”

The above quotes are all from the first episode of Firefly; the one that was meant to be first anyway, which is not the one that aired first. Fuck me if I know why, but I’m sure that’s been talked to death.

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The Bachelor

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about me being alone.
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No, Not the reality teevee show. I’m done with that topic.

I’m talking about a temporary bachelor.

The family are taking off for a toasty tour of the southwest (why do they call it the southwest when it’s east of here? And what’s with the midwest? It’s not mid, nor west). I, on the other hand, as a workin’ stiff, can’t always take off at the last minute with no advance planning. So I’m keepin’ the home fires burnin’ and waiting for some post-cards and t-shirts. Gray, with skulls. That’s it, you know what I like.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a big ten days here to myself.

Obviously, I’m hoping to get some writing done. It’s a prime chance, truly. And if I could turn the tap in my head, I could write a fucking novel in ten days. I’ve got the stories, and I’ve got the time. But I’ll keep expectations low and just say, I’ll work, and maybe I’ll get a story or two I can post.

Most likely, I’ll spend too much time at home. I’ll do a ton of laundry, watch a lotta movies (I got netflix again – first up, Firefly), read a thick, heavy book or two (Moby Dick? Hell, it’s on my bedside table), and drink way too much. I’m tellin’ ya, friends, if I do this, come get me outta the house. Sometimes I go hermit when I have the house to myself. Come get me and take me out and get me in trouble. I could use it.

The worst thing I do when I’m alone is that I tend to spend way too much time at work. With no reason to get home, no one to cook for or clean up after, I tend to think, I’ll just finish this today instead of putting it off. That, also, I need to resist.

Other things come to mind. Maybe I’ll take a short motorcycle trip, pack just what I need and head off up or down the coast. Maybe I’ll toss a sleeping bag and a jug of wine in my jeep and find a beach to sleep on.

Why not? A man’s gotta try for an adventure or two.

Or maybe I’ll just conduct a short tour of dive bars in my town. That shouldn’t take long, it’s a small town and it’s got too few bars. Drink up and crawl home. In the old days, I’d have gone on a weekend-long chemical vacation; I miss being young and stupid sometimes.

Hell, I’ll find some way to occupy the hours. I always do.

[made with ecto]

Trotsky Icepick – Band Names you don’t expect to see on CNN

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I’ll take Band Names you don’t expect to see on CNN for $1000, Alex!MEXICO CITY, Mexico (AP) — One of history’s most infamous murder weapons, the ice pick used to kill Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky, has apparently resurfaced after being lost for decades.
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I’ll take Band Names you don’t expect to see on CNN for $1000, Alex!

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