Turf Marking

All original material, except otherwise explicitly stated, is under this:
Creative Commons License
Creative Commons License
Warm Fuzzy Freudian Slippers, Ltd.
*Other People's Blogs


Things you need to know:
  • Some posts, or the links they contain, are NSFW. This is your only warning.
  • This blog serves the cause of my freedom of speech, not yours. I wield censorship like a 10 year-old boy who just found his father's handgun.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

If blogs had social workers, this one would've been forcibly removed from me. Here's my attempt at making amends.

Let's see, the sleep thing is going well. I should be in bed now but the heat wave makes that difficult. They say the ideal sleeping temperature is around 65° F. Unfortunately, icicles start forming on The Wife's nose at that temperature. But hot is hot and it's just been plain ridiculous.

The playlist on my mp3 player has songs from the following albums. Hey, screw you--I can't help it if they get me and keep me in the mood to write.

powered by frazy.com

It might have to do with the fact that these albums share a lot of the same musicians. People tend to forget that the members of Toto were and still are the best studio musicians around.

The Big Red School on the Hill finally fixed their errors on my health insurance coverage. I--that is, The Wife and I--finally have the correct health, dental, and eye coverage that I signed up for. Everything's credited, paid, and backdated. Still, after all that, I hope we don't have to really use any of it...except for a dentist. It's been too long since I've been to one.

Sorry, but this has just been on my mind, lately.
When you get caught
Between the moon and New York City
I know it's crazy but it's true
If you get caught
Between the moon and New York City
Best that you can do
Best that you can do
Is fall in love

-Christopher Cross, "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)"
Somewhere, I think I've raved about Charles Bukowski's BURNING IN WATER, DROWNING IN FLAME. I also think I've mentioned the fact that a friend, when he heard I was reading that, said to me, "I read some Bukowski once. I decided I just wasn't mentally healthy enough to handle it." Well, sure, the poetry isn't exactly uplifting Maya Angelou stuff and he makes Raymond Carver seem like he's on anti-depressants by comparison.

But then I leafed through a short story collection of Buk's called TALES OF ORDINARY MADNESS (which is actually half of a collection, no longer published in its entirety, titled ERECTIONS, EJACULATIONS, EXHIBITIONS AND TALES OF ORDINARY MADNESS--Hm, I wonder why?). My impulse was to buy it, but something told me "No, sit down and read some of it first."

Yes, it's every bit as gruesome as one would expect. Crude, too, but honestly so. You could call some of it "prurient," "twisted," and "sick" but it's not there (I don't think, based on my cursory reading) to shock--and that's actually part of the problem. It's the presentation of "Yes, this is the sick and twisted everyday life of some sick and twisted characters" that makes it hard to swallow. Maybe one day I'll grow up enough to handle it, but not before I've gone through a few more volumes of Buk's poetry (and god, there're a lot of them).

There is noooo...number six.

Coming soon (when I feel like pulling the camera back out): Productivity pr0n!
Categories: ,