What's this?

So I figured that if I was going to overhaul this blog, I should sort of hit the reset button on what's going on. Here's the deal: They started calling me 'Bobby' once I moved down here to the south, from Cleveland, Ohio. This has sort of stuck, which is ironic since my parents called me this when I was a little kid. The result is this:
Friends from home call me 'Bob'
Friends outside of work here in Memphis call me 'Bob'
People at work call me 'Bobby'
People in the industry of my work, but not part of the compay I work for call me 'Robert' because of my work email address.

And I've replaced the picture of me with the 'plant-head', which I'm now adopting as my personal icon bearer. That sculpture is something I made out of stuff in my front yard.
That pretty much brings us up to date. I have the best job in the world, and I get to travel about once a month (see link along the side of this page).

At some point, I feel, my story/career in Memphis will finally end, thus activating my goal of writing a tell-all book of my wild experiences. But until that book comes out, you'll just have to survive on the scraps printed here.

See you on the other side.

Lost in translation...

So my niece is into these toys, handed down by my sister, called Sylvanians. They're basically little dolls that look like forest creatures. However, she's only 4, and for whatever reason refers to them as 'Albanians.' According to Wikipedia:
"The earliest known inhabitants of Kosovo were called Illyrians by both Greeks and Romans. Albanians today claim to be direct descendants of the Illyrians. Serbian scholars claim that Albanians appeared on the scene in the early Middle Ages as a result of intermarriage between nomadic shepherds and unromanized remnants of Illyrians and Dardanians from Thrace. Tracing such descents is difficult but the people living in the region before the arrival of the Serbs from the North are likely to have some genetic relationships to Albanians, but DNA data would be needed to definitively settle the claim, which in any case is hardly germane to the current conflict. The region was conquered by Alexander the Great 300 years before Christ and became part of the Roman province of Dardania in the 4th century A. D."
This seems to be what my niece was referring to. Apparently, her little bunnies, bears, and beavers have endured the plight of genocide during the 90's. Who knew?
So this brings me to the punchline of this post. My nephew, who is a couple of years older, is collecting Playmobil. A German company hell-bent on manufacturing addictive little action figures and accessories from nearly every genre of humanity, Playmobil also happens to be a hobby of mine. Furthermore, my nephew and I collect the same figures: the Barbarians. I know why I love these particular figures, but by either coincidence or genetic superiority my nephew has fancied these same toys, above all the other Playmobil choices out there. With one exception: he calls his Barbarians "Ovarians." You go, girl!

Treasure trap...

I wrote down all my dreams, but didn't check the spelling. All my hopes are written in a book I never read.

Radiation ruling the Nation...

Great news, it looks like I'll be going home over Memorial day weekend. But don't tell mom, it's a surprise for (belated) mother's day. Hopefully she'll recognize me this time. The last time I did this, I showed up for thanksgiving and she stared at me, unable to speak. I just invited myself in and helped myself to some wine at that point.

Anyways, while looking around iTunes, I found that yet again, the perfect name for a band has already been taken: Gay Dad. Now I know what you're thinking, but hear me out-- there is only one other person who finds this as amusing as I do, and he lives in Japan. So forget I brought this up.

Also, we went to Gena's photo show for her master's thesis. Lots of grad students there who were dressed down in the height of fashion, making comments on people's work like "he's doing a lot of great stuff with space lately" or "her paintings have a kind of Stevenson sort of thing going on, very iconic but I like it." I shit you not. People need to learn how to speak at these things. Now, I went to art school, was immersed in this stuff, hung out with people like this, graduated (similarities end here) and then got a job. Keep in mind that at this show, almost no one knew me. So I had me some free cheese and crackers and walked around saying things like "that looks like an octopus" and "that one smells like purple" and "his stuff looks cool, I hope he finishes them." No one made any effort to introduce themselves to me. We were there for Gena, who displayed some lovely photographs of people's houses. She's doing a lot of great stuff with space lately...

The evening just got stranger from there, going out to dinner with lots of "people of the art community" who all talk about art they saw elsewhere or art they're thinking about, but nothing regarding any art they're actually making. I told them of my recent Warhammer army and how I'm going for sort of a woodsy kind of thing. They were all 'interested.' I asked Crystal what kind of army she played and she smiled and pretended it was too loud to hear (it was loud). I figure her for Dark Elves: lots of purple, crazy monsters, witches in bikinis, and loses all the time. I would crush her army like an eggshell.

So I'm off-topic here. The point is, I don't really like most art students, but I can tolerate them if there's free cheese at the event.

A Girl named Whiskey...

I really hope I get to see Darby O'Gill & the Little People in Vegas.

Man in a suitcase...

So I'm off to Vegas again next week. This time, to confer with my UK counterpart. Turns out there's some kind of formal evening, so I have to break out the suit of arcane goovy-ness. There is still a lot more I want to do in Vegas, but time is always a factor. At least I get to see S and K again. A note on the last post, the girl pictured is from the Velvet Tango Room site. Who knows who she really is? Then again, I rather enjoy not knowing. In other news, I may have found a Hookah lounge in my own neighborhood here in Memphis.

Anyways, I'll see you all when I get back.

Coat check...

"When a man has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has no right to keep it to himself."

Easter descends upon the hungry and damned...

Yes, it's been a long time since I posted. I'm aware. And I'm sorry.
Anyway, here are the next two appearances I'll be making:
• Las Vegas, April 23-26
• Philadelphia, June 13-19

"I do not want your blood, I can take that from you. I want your Loyalty, for only you can give that to me."
-Nero

Things that have happened since I've last posted:
Markian has moved to Japan (Hiroshima) to spread the divine word and teachings of the English language to those who would find advantage in learning our fine tongue. I've done one vegas trip, in which Sarah's pet finch landed on my shoulder and tried to say something into my ear. I have no idea what it said, and therefore couldn't meet his needs. Canada was deathly cold, minus 11 degrees with the wind (there is ALWAYS wind). St. Patrick's day was fun, with a few friends and even our yoga instructor Amanda stopping by. The kids learned some yoga and watched the grown-ups behaving more like the kids.
Some movie reviews:

"Sideways" A movie about wine snobs and a bachelor party. A bottle of Pinot would have made this movie easier to watch.
"Broken Flowers" Bill Murray is one of my all-time favorites. This movie seemed to be the missing link between 'Rushmore' and 'Lost in Translation' only a little askew. I recommend it.

I've gone to a Neuro-Muscular Therapist for my haunted shoulder. Turns out, my poor posture and computer work is the cause of "severe muscle strain." This sounds much better than "Thoricic Outlet Syndrome" as was first thought, by my friend D who is a massage therapist.

Happy Easter. Remember, this is the day that Jesus rose from the dead, emerged from the cave, saw his own shadow and we had six more weeks of winter.

Monkeys ate my buick...

Jeez, will you guys shut the hell up already?! Thank you for pointing out the old email address, I've now changed it. Good to know that the e-community will rally together to give me shit.

Anyways, this weekend's activities include: drinking scotch, putting on some "old sad bastard music" and lamenting intangibles like "there is no true form of jazz anymore" or "there are no good pubs/cafès in Memphis" or "I wish I could still hang out with the young and cool kids" or "please let a meteor strike obliterate city hall."

I'm starting to miss the city of Nottingham and the folks I met there, but I don't think a transition to the UK would come easily to me, so I put it out of my mind when I can.

I've seen so many re-runs of "Sex and the City" this week, and I feel an odd paradox: I'm glad to be sharing in the misery of those characters. Thank you for making your problems mine.

I've also found a way to completely shut out the unimportant things in life. If I don't want to worry about the bigger picture of this country, or the fate of humanity, or if my grandkids will have to pay taxes on their health insurance or have to grow up in nuclear fallout, I just change the channel. Instead of watching Bush's state of the union, I'll watch Futurama. Instead of reading the newspaper, I'll paint toy soldiers (so that ultimately, I can send wave after wave of them to their own deaths). This is called "deflection." Or maybe "denial."

Over the next few months, my business will send me:
• back to Canada
• to Las Vegas (twice)
• to the darkest parts of my soul

-b

Council house and violent...

I'm now back from the UK. Turns out that an English pub that's been opened since the 1400's is prone to rat infestations. Turns out there are a lot of pubs, and the company I work for is fond of drinking. I can now say I've been to historic Nottingham, which does embrace the whole Robin Hood myth/legend/fact.

My routine in England: cab ride/meetings/meetings/meetings/beer/dinner/beer/beer/hotel (repeat ad nauseum)
My routing in Memphis: work/dinner/yoga/tv/sleep

I should drink more.

Disturbance at the pig pen...

So just a few updates as to what's been shakin' down here:

• Another day, another rape... Memphis is like that. Come for the BBQ, stay for the violence.
• Going to England from January 6th through 12th. Mostly for work, but here's a picture of the pub I'll be staying at:

• Turns out, when I do a Google search for my name, it shows me "Bob Stickel, photographer of nude males." Safe Search wasn't on...
• A speedy recovery wish to K, who underwent surgery to remove 2 discs from his spine. I can imagine how much that hurt.
• The last 3 weeks have been filled with holiday parties. One for work, downtown at Pat O'Brians. One at Helen's, one at a lost part of the country in historic civil-war era cotton field lovin' smallville, one at the barn, and Jenn's work party out at some remote location. I think I'm past them all now.

That's all for now.

Thought for Thanxgiving...

I like my heretics like I like my turkey...
Burned.

Memphis changed me (I swear it did)...

This is Angela. She's a very talented stylist. But to understand the point of this post, you must first understand Angela's opposite, her polar force, her Ronin, her anti-avatar... my mother!

My mom was a hairdresser (as they used to call them in that day), and one of the benefits of having a hairdresser-mom is that for my entire life I never had to pay for a haircut. Rarely did I have to make an appointment even. But the process was a give-and-take one. I've been told that I have very difficult hair to work on because it grows 'weird.' So my mother would give me the haircut SHE wanted me to have, while I argued for a different style. I got half-and-half. So when I moved from Ohio to Memphis, mom could no longer cut her lil' son's hair. And her parting words were "no one can cut your hair like your mother." (she would actually criticize the job done by other stylists after I moved out of the house).

Meet Angela. She's not a conservative Catholic. Her arms are covered in tattoos. She's dating an army sniper. Her hair is a different color every week. She has lots of facial piercings. She's great!

Nothing against my mum, but I can't imagine the shock/horror she must be going through reading this (yes, mom reads my blog, so mind your manners you fuckos).

Angela is the best ever. But she's expensive. Mom was free at least...

She said "I know you and you cannot sing" I said "That's nothing, you should hear me play piano..."

Today is the first day where it really feels like autumn. My dog tried to pee on the largest leaf I've ever seen, but I pulled him off of it at the last second because I wanted to put it on my fridge.
Chickadees are now on the feeders at home. Other birds I've collected: the titpecker, the woodcock, the boob lark.

Mempis is also starting to feel incredibly small. Turns out my friend and massage-therapist knows my stylist, who knows my tattoo guy.

Places I'll be going in 2007: Vegas, England, Indy, maybe Philly, maybe Japan.

Goodbye to: Sher-bear, for now.
Hello to: an increasing amount of really ignorant, self-centered people who call this city home.

Vincent Price made some great, but very gay, movies.

I really need to get back on the DJ gig thing. That was fun.

Saw David Sedaris last month, the Memphis Symphony this month.

Pieces of Eight...

I know, I know, long time no post. Well, I've been promoted to Director of Marketing so now I'm doing 2 jobs until I can get a replacement for my graphic design position. Yeah, I've been busy.
Anyway, what do you think of this image (above)? Not the background, just the swirly thing.
I'm now back into the swing of blogging, so I should be posting regularly again. Thanks for not abandoning Official Rumors, and if you have, burn!
Drinks at the Celtic Crossing tonite for Sher-bear's going away party.
See you all there.

Hemmed in like a boar between arches...

Hooray! The Devil is dead, now everyone is free to do whatever they wish.

Oh Mr. Punch, you kill me.

Free coffee is coming for me next week, courtesy of a friend from GENCON. This is good, considering how heavily dependent I am on the stuff.

The weather is starting to cool off (high 80's) and I'm no longer boiling like a bug in bourbon. Of course, with cooler weather comes sleeping with the windows open. And you know what comes with that? Motorcycles. Those annoying kinds that go super-fast and super-loud and sound like an alligator be run through a blender. So one of these obnoxious fucks goes tearing down the street at 1:30am and scares the crap out of me. He should be back tonight, and I'll be waiting. He needs to be fitted for a size .22 suit. Let's dress the man...

This weekend, fun is planned for all. The cooper-young festival in midtown (a hippy-fest of crafts, junk, and home-grown 'music') will see our group, and lunch at Molly's!!! Getting my hair cut with Angela, the greatest pink-n-purple, pierced, tattooed punk stylist in Memphis!

Fantasy football: I'm 1-0!! My team (the Crash Test Bunnies) has a big game this week vs. the Mighty Sock Monkeys, but they're goin' down like a prom date on the titanic 'coz we're 1-0 baby!!!

I'm out.

-b

Thought I'd share this with you...

The man who sailed around his soul
From east to west, from pole to pole
With ego as his drunken captain
Greed, the mutineer, had trapped all reason in the hold

The man who walked across his heart
Who took no compass, guide or chart
To rope and tar his blood congealed
When he found his self revealed ugly and cold

And the sirens that sing
By your nose with its ring
Theyll drag you in
For your sins

Now he sits all alone
And its no place like home
Its empty skin
A bag to keep lifes souvenirs in
The man who sailed around his soul...

The man who sailed around his soul
Came back again to find a hole
Where once he thought compassion and the truth
Had laid to warm his freezing carcass on return

The man who walked across his heart
Was doomed to journey from the start
Of every love affair hed broken
All the lies hed ever spoken
Tattooed on his arm
And the jellyfish stings
Even angels with wings
Who look too deep
And dare to peep

Now he sits all alone
Knowing flesh blood and bone
Is everything
He found the treasure hed been seeking...

Undertow...

Since when did the 'newgirl' get the right to pick on the veteran?! Anyways, newgirl starts in on how my *sigh* brings down the whole office, FOLLOWED BY how she doesn't really know anything about me. Seems you would want to do these two things in reverse. I mean, really.
Welcome aboard, newgirl! We've taken it easy on you so far...

Anyways, back to yoga this week. Missing 2 weeks is going to be murder.
Also, been neglecting my farm lately...

To sleep, perchance to burn...

This past week:
• Bit by a spider or equally annoying insect.
• Hummingbirds now in an aggressive territorial death match with each other.
• Laptop's monitor dies.
• Had to buy a new one.
• I hate Memphis this week, especially when SOME PEOPLE get to go to Seattle.
• My headache is back.
• I'm really cranky about everything this week, it's only Tuesday and I'm ready for the weekend.

"But in the flesh how would it be
If you could really see
The weaknesses you never knew
Alive and staring back at you..."

MonstroCity...

This picture and the stingray photo were taken at the City Museum in St. Louis, a sort of twisted wonderland of discarded objects from around the city. For example, if you have an old bank vault door lying around, the museum might want to buy it from you and make an exhibit out of it. This was the most unique museum experience I've ever been a part of. Tomorrow will be the art museum. Home on Tuesday.

Crikey: Croc Hunter gets the 'high hard one' from misunderstood skate...

Official Rumors was deeply saddened to hear of the untimely death of Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. While filming a new series titled "Stingrays--A diver's best friend", Irwin became only the 3rd person on record to died from a stingray. I'm currently writing from my hotel in St. Louis, and after hearing the news this morning, went to the St. Louis City Museum where I could pet stingrays in a tank. I'm not sure what the big deal is, since the rays were all too happy to have me pet them. Interesting note, www.jerusalemtimes.com reported Irwin's death took place during a 'DRIVING" accident (not a 'diving' accident). I honestly pictured him driving his truck down a dusty Australian road with a cooler containing a capture stingray, the truck rolling over and the cooler coming open spilling the creature onto Irwin's chest. People in Jerusalem need to spellcheck. Diving makes a lot more sense.

People and animals alike will miss Steve Irwin.

Vertrauen

"There is a secret, and my word was my pass through the mirror..."

SSS, LLL...

I've been total crap at posting lately. Sorry 'bout that. I've been thinking recently of starting an additional, more 'themed' blog: Stickel Figure Theater! I'm still working out the details of what that theme will be, but rest assured it will be full of snobby, upper-crust, well-to-do violence and debauchery!

In other news, Markian (author of the forthcoming short essay "Moth Coffee") has taken full credit for the discovery of the following: www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com

While you go look at that, I'll get started on the new blog. Official Rumors will keep giving you the same erratic nonsuch that it has for OVER A YEAR now! Can you believe that?

You'll hear about the launch of Stickel Figure Theater before it happens, as I begin to gather submissions from the truly submissive: you reader-types!!

Monthly Horrorscope: LEO

If you were born during daylight savings time, be sure to subtract an hour from your birth time this month or your Horrorscope may be totally inaccurate.

July 23-Aug 22:

A co-worker leaves an interesting package in your office on the 21st. You will retaliate.

Daily Ephemera...

Hi all,
I'm back from GenCon, the most exhausting 4 days in gaming. Give me a day or so to put the whole rundown on Official Rumors, since there is a lot to tell.

Top 5 things I thought of while eating a melon...

We had brunch with D&B this past weekend, which like everything else that they do, was high-class. They are still the bests hosts in Memphis, and have treated us like family. Anyhoo, my job was to cut up the cantalope, and upon eating some I thought:

5. Remember that time at T&J's house when we cut open a watermelon, filled it with assorted fruit and poured in a bottle of rum? That was great.

4. Will there ever be a boy born who can swim faster than a shark?

3. The Tom Waits concert was fantastic, but difficult to describe. The crowd was very eclectic. They all had tattoos.

2. This weekend, I really enjoyed living in Memphis. But our air conditioning broke, and I cursed this city into the ground.

1. The consistency of melon is not unlike that of a HUMAN HEAD!!!!

Get your war on!

Nice one, Israel.

Jerks...

Inventory...

Stuff on my desk:
• a plastic sheep
• little dancing jack o' lantern figures
• a scented tea candle (vanilla)
• cobra commander
• a toothbrush (free when you become a delta dental member)
• an Irish wishing stone
• a bottle opener

Mind Over Matter...

I have this little indulgence I practice every couple of weeks: I'll go to local Borders Books & Music, pick up a few of my favorite magazines off the shelf, then sit in the cafe and browse through them. To understand where this story, one must know that I usually go there after work and that my work 'uniform' consists of a black angst-laden t-shirt and jeans, with my i.d. badge around my neck.
Anyways, a couple weeks ago I was at Borders and when I finished with my magazines, I was kind enough to put them all back in their designated spots. So it came as no surprise when no fewer than 4 customers came up to me and asked me various questions, mistaking me for a store employee. The first few instances I explained that I wasn't an employee, but then I began to just steer people in the wrong direction: "You actually have to have a special permit to buy anything out of our Religious Studies section" or "We're entitled to alert the FBI anytime someone buys that magazine."
I should really fill out an application, since I enjoy talking to the customers more than Border's own employees seem to.

Birthday...

Today is my birthday, and my niece has drawn this rendition of me wearing some kind of shriner's fez. The glowing orbs above my 'head' probably represent something... arcane knowledge or divine mana or poltergeists. Yay!

Life is like a box of chocolates...

A cheap, thoughtless, perfunctory gift that nobody ever asks for.
Unreturnable because all you get back is another box of chocolates. So
you're stuck with this undefineable whipped mint crap that you mindlessly
wolf down because there's nothing else left to eat.
Sure, once in a while there's a peanut butter cup or an English toffee,
but they're gone too fast. The taste is... fleeting.
They end up as nothing but broken bits filled with hardened jelly and
teeth-shattering nuts. You're desperate enough to eat those and all
you've got left is an empty box filled with useless brown paper
wrappers.

Let Them Eat Birthday Cake...

A couple of weeks ago, while at home, my sister made me an early birthday cake. It's the kind of cake my mother had made me for years, but now my sister is carrying on the tradition. This, however, is not your average cake. It's called "Pig licking good cake" and sounds like something you would find here in Memphis. I'm not a big pineapple fan and this cake is choc-full of it. But make no mistake, it's (somehow) my favorite. The rest of the cake is nearly indescribable- I honestly don't know what else is in it. BBQ sauce would be an added bonus. Anyways, it's good. And I'm thankful for it.

I feel pretty apathetic about my impending birthday. I have to work tomorrow anyway.

Live Free or Don't...

I live in Memphis, which is known for a couple of things: Elvis, BBQ, and now the Statue of Liberation Through Christ. Dear readers, I CANNOT make this kind of stuff up. The church of the World Overcomers has erected this statue, a converted version of the green colossus known as the statue of liberty. They’ve added some stone tablets with symbols on them and a cross. I’m hoping these additions aren’t permanent, as I think it would add value to be able to replace them as the season’s change. For example, Halloween could see the statue change its accessories to a wooden stake and wreath of garlic. Anyways, their bullshit explanation of the statue’s meaning basically boils down to a disguised allusion to the reunion of church and state. Thanks to our forefathers, who in no way could see this coming, freedom of expression protects people from receiving death threats for their lawn ornaments. I’m offended, but I’m not really allowed to be. The Fahrenheit 451 sentries, SS stormtroopers, blade runner secret police or democrats who vote would never stand for this. Where is my police state?! I was promised a police state!

Between Something and Nothing...

Our vacation was a success! But there never seems to be enough time to do everything you want. However, zoo pictures will be up soon, so keep an eye on this space.
• Happy (belated) birthday wishes to my dad, Sheri, and Linek
• Special thanks to those who watched after our dogs. Turns out Argus was about as much trouble as we thought.
• Colin, sorry we missed you.
• And a hearty welcome to new readers of this blog. Watch what you say as it may end up in print here.

This is your life...

And you open the door and you step inside
Where inside our hearts

Now imagine that your pain is a white ball of healing light
That's right-your pain, the pain itself is a white ball of healing light

I don't think so

This is your life Good to the last drop
It doesn't get any better than this
This is your life and its ending one minute at a time

This isn't a seminar This isn't a weekend retreat
Where you are now You can't even imagine what the bottom will be like
Only after disaster can we be resurrected
Its only after you've lost everything that you are free to do anything
Nothing is static Everything is evolving
Everything is falling apart

This is your life
It doesn't get any better than this
This is your life
And its ending one minute at a time

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else
We are all part of the same compost heap
We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world

You are not your bank account
You are not the clothes you wear
You are not the contents of your wallet

You are not your bowel cancer
You are not your grand latte
You are not the car you drive
You are not your fucking khakis

You have to give up
You have to give up
You have to realise that someday you will die
Until you know that, you are useless.

I say never let me be complete
I say may I never be content
I say deliver me from Swedish furniture
I say deliver me from clever art
I say deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth
I say you have to give up
I say evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.

This is your life
Doesn't get any better than this
This is your life
And its ending one minute at a time

You have to give up
You have to give up

--from Chuck Palahniuk

The Angriest Dog in the World...

This cartoon was written by David Lynch and used to appear in the L.A. Times. The odd gag was that the panels never changed, only the words. I thought it was great, but like all things, it eventually died. I've posted this little tribute in its honor (click to biggie-size it). This dog reminds me of our dog Argus, who has issues all his own and gets upset about similar things. The little intro to the comic is just perfect:

"The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. ...Bound so tightly with tension and anger, he approaches the state of rigor mortis."

Some wonderful friends of ours have been bravely volunteered to watch our dogs while we are away. Bernard is the attention-hound. Argus is bound so tightly with tension and anger...

You can always come home...

...it's just a long-ass drive to get there. Next weekend, I'm going home to Ohio to have the family cookout and do all the stuff I loved doing before I moved down here to the blast furnace. In other news...

• The world's largest Warhammer tournament was an incredible experience, and I got to share some authentic 15-year old scotch with a guy from Scotland!
• Robin Guthrie (pictured above) will be putting on his synth-guitar/video show, but I won't be able to attend since I don't live in the UK.
• That local Bistro has a 'for lease' sign in the window. Although it is a sad occasion, it surprises no one.
• I hope to be singing at ON TAP next weekend when I go home. If Colin can make it, we should be able to collapse the place!
• I watched a kid (about 18 years old) urinate on a gas pump. I had no say in the matter.

Hope to see everyone in a week!

5th place...

Somehow, we continue to love him anyway.

Bravo...

I had the opportunity, during a taping of "Inside the Actors Studio," to talk with host James Lipton. So he ran me through those 10 questions asked at the end of the show:

01. What is your favorite word? Porcupine

02. What is your least favorite word? Money

03. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Music played very loudly

04. What turns you off? The News/Media

05. What is your favorite curse word? Wanker

06. What sound or noise do you love? The Ocean

07. What sound or noise do you hate? People arguing

08. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Film Director

09. What profession would you not like to do? Laxative test subject

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "Let me explain..."

Desire Lines...

Prise the hair out of her mouth
Whilst the circus is heading south
While we search in the sand
Don't ask them to understand
Why they cover up their hands
And their mouths

Test Complete...

So I had the MRI on my neck, in light of that car accident thingy. Turns out there's no major damage to any of my main cables, or soft & squishies. Just physical therapy. This is good, considering I've already made up my mind that surgery is not an option that I would accept.
Dead Can Dance was the music chosen for part of yoga last night. A welcome surprise, which makes me want to make a mix cd for next week's class. Holy crap, I could spin live music during yoga. I could be Memphis's first YJ!
Colin-I need to talk with you! I have stuff you might want.
A special shout-out to Sarah--thanks for looking out for me this week.
And Halle-this picture reminds me of the first time you brought Adam over to meet the family.

I'm off to Toronto this week, so be good and NO PARTIES!

Over the Counterculture...

Just a brief update on the state of the 'tarnation: I'm finally getting my car back (Monday) just in time to drive myself to get an MRI (Tuesday) for injuries sustained in that accident. BUT, I've got some great new music to listen to:

• Maximo Park
• Arcade Fire
• The Bees
• StellaStar
• The David Freeman Orchestra (not available)

What Would Jesus Bomb?

Terrorism begins at home.

Official Announcement...

We apologize for any confusion you may be experiencing. But are we to blame? Double click on that HELP button tattooed to your mother’s forehead. She’ll tell you that your confusion stems from a public-school infused childhood, where you were raised by television to believe that one day you’ll be a millionaire or movie god or rock star. What you really should be worried about is that it took this long for you to admit your plight.

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Welcome to our Neighborhood...

Just to get some of you caught up to speed, we moved in February to a much newer, nicer part of town. A lot of it is still being developed and we have a very nice view of nature right off of our back porch (which is 3 floors up, so it's like having a tree house). There are always birds singing 'tra-la-la' and we are surrounded by lots of lush greenery. So let's recap a few things about our new surroundings:

WILDLIFE
I should start charging people to come over and look outside. In the last month, right outside my window I've seen:
• A Blue Heron
• A Luna Moth (size of my hand)
• A hawk (size of my dog; holy crap!)
• Hummingbirds, Cardinals, ornothologica en masse

METROLIFE
Despite our very nice surroundings, we've had:
• The same bank robbed 4 times
• Kroger robbed at gunpoint
• Tanning salon robbed at knifepoint (all in the same shopping center!)
• Liquor store robbed
• 4 burglaries in our complex

And so last night at 10:30, while the police chopper circled over our little apartment building, 3 cops and a K-9 unit were searching the grounds about 50 feet below me. They searched the creek in my back yard, our stairs, etc. Soon about 9 more police cruisers showed up and they and the dogs combed the area. Not really sure how it all concluded, except that there was some barking and shouting towards the end, and everyone casually packed up and left about an hour later.

I'm off to buy more ammunition tonight after work, and since the wife is really freaking out, maybe a seachlight to mount on my patio.

What our neighborhood needs is a BIG searchlight with a bat logo on it that we can shine on the clouds whenever there's trouble.

Lost and Found...

This is my Aunt Susan. She's one of my favorites! She is very dear to me. And lo and behold, her daughter Samantha returns. She went missing off the radar for a few years, and apparently she's back with a degree and a smile! Somewhere I have a picture of Samantha and I dancing at my sister's wedding. I haven't had the privilege of spending that much time with her, but if she's anything like my Aunt Susan, she'll be able to accomplish whatever she wants, on her own terms.

Bad Juju to the lot of you...

And you know who you are.