Mea Maxima Culpa

12/17/2010, 11:15 AM 


It's been something like a couple thousand trices since I posted, and that's a longer interval than I had anticipated. I'm still mightily inexperienced with this (though less so with each typed character), and I appreciate your patience and understanding. This learning curve is steep and sharp—I refer you to the brief appearance of questionable, incongruous advertising on this blog. 


Enlisting into an advertising thing was a good idea on paper, but we all know (or should know, by now) what happens with that sort of thing. I'm referring to the moronic dating and/or pop-culture ads that appeared sneakily on this site like a lecherous sot at a wedding reception. I deleted them as soon as, in horror, I saw them. Suffice it to say that I don't even know who the Karadashians are, although I do find it discomfiting that they have three sisters whose first names all begin with the letter "K." We don't have a television, but I spend enough time in the grocery store and logging onto a computer to encounter plenty of dreck—that's all time and brainspace that we are NEVER GETTING BACK, PEOPLE. 


(I'm digressing here, but take a moment to reflect upon all of the unpleasant music to which you have been involuntarily subjected in your life. I'm sure that there is something that everyone can agree is awful, but I dare not name names herein. Well, I implore you to, whenever you feel like it, think of every grocery-store slog, of every waiting-room sentence—of every single epic of preposterous earshot torture that your sense of self-preservation permits you to recall.  Add the running times for all of those experiences together, and you'll probably total a couple of months. [To assist with calculations, I'll provide an informal chart.] 

1440 minutes per day
10080 minutes per week
4.35 average weeks per month [rounded up]
525 949 minutes [rounded up] equal one year, and, no matter what the duration, all of that time that you've imagined, and likely much more, now belongs to the past. Eff everything.)

Oh, goodness. These days are passing too quickly, and I've got lot more to say on this post. I will try to say it later today. (I think that I probably need to type with these slothful fingers of mine in the morning, before anyone awakens.) Anyway, have lovely days, please.

Mercury Poisoning

12/10/2010, 4:04 PM

Hi from December 10th.

I'd sworn to myself that entries would occur on a daily basis, but I was eyebrow-deep in variously futile episodes of abject tedium; when it was over, tomorrow was no longer tomorrow, while today had been discarded onto a clammy, moribund heap of subpar song-lyric fodder. In any case, it's today. Again. That's all that I'm willing to say about it. Except that Mercury has now gone retrograde, and we're totally done for.

It's noisy at the moment, presenting us as a larger family than we are. Desmond and Ivor are seated at our Hammond organ (singing something about ears), and people are fixing the roof to our bathroom as part of a government home-repair grant. This all seems great, and our feather tree is up and stunning and everything, but I've realized that December is kind of a shoddy month. (I know that it is that way here, amid a snarling cold snap whose capitalized anticipation did little to endear it to me.) It's as if it's to slyly lure us into winter with camaraderie and fatty foodstuffs (to provide insulation, I imagine) in a blissful poetic haze and all that, but January is unforgettable in terms of the intensity of punishment meted mercilessly to all mammals without fur. I've had it, I tell you, which is pretty much verbatim what I tell myself along with everybody cursed with knowing me, every single year. "This time, I mean it," I say, with predictable conviction. I never capitulate consciously--perhaps my gratitude for subsequent seasons provides a different sort of insulation.

As I walk down the street, there is a monologue that must be mine: yes its a huge world and i understand that and there are innumerable crises and iniquities everywhere and all of those people are important and i care but cannot see straight and i have facts and factors to consider holy crap it is cold why does december want to destroy me save draft no dont save this draft people in maine all live in maine and thats just wrong putamayo artwork irritates me so do people that discover things only to make them prohibitively expensive is the house gonna run of oil how am i going to get my car registered or insurance renewed oh i have to call the doctor for my thing and another thing no several things uniquely dehumanizing aspects of the human experience are called: and then I arrive at a pre-determined, yet unspecified, destination.