Ahhh, blessed Friday! That Day of Days that we all praise! Lucky am I whose labors are abbreviated this day, that I may enjoy an earlier respite from the work week. Unfortunate are the drones still slaving as I sit here typing and sipping a deliciously cool, refreshingly carbonated barley-pop. Ehh, who'm I kidding. I'm not sipping, I'm chugging. It's the friggin weekend man, and I can get to celebrating in truth for the birthday I had yesterday. What's more cause for a party than being another year older? Aside from the fact that it's forecast to be a beeeaaauuutiful weekend. And work's over for a couple of days. And Bush is in his last few months in office. All good reasons to get drunk, right? Or, to not get drunk, for those of you (freaks!) who don't.
So, I've had opportunities this last month to witness some wonderful performances, and I feel enlivened by them. The first such spectacle was a children's theater production of A Midsummer's Night Dream, complete with Beatles' songs sung well and beautifully by the youthful cast. If you've seen the movie Across the Universe, you'll understand how great a story can be when told by Beatles' music. It was quite well done--I still get chills remembering a sweet six year-old girl belting out Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. *shivers* Thank you, Anna.
The second show was a concert by Swell Season at a small theater. Swell Season is composed of Musicians who acted in the movie Once. Another good music film (and soundtrack) alongside the aforementioned Beatles concept movie. It was an absolutely FAAAABulous concert! And forgive me for sounding gay with that. The show was just reeeeeeaaaallly good. And inspiring. Thank you Jacilin and Andre.
The last show was not really a show. It was a poetry slam, my first such to see. Not the finger-snapping beatnick thing you may be thinking of, or the mournful coffee-house whinings of turtleneck-clad angsty lesbians either. It was held in a local brewpub, and it was a powerful good time. My local community sports some very talented and interesting people. Thank you Jules.
I've forgotten how powerful live performance can be, how captivating. There is an energy and movement there in the communication between performer and audience. I've seen lots of big shows, concerts and plays, but I'm becoming more and more sold on the smaller, more intimate shows.
At any rate, I've rambled enough . . . just wanted to thank those who helped me experience these things; wonderful birthday presents all. And I want to encourage all of you to go catch a live performance somewhere. Even if its watching someone panhandle on the side of the street. Theater can happen anywhere.
And don't forget to party, it's the weekend!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
Addiction is a funny thing. Well, maybe not so funny, but you know what I mean. It's weird, interesting, scary and the like all mixed up like a combo plate from a taco truck. I'm no expert on the subject, so I won't get too deep here, but I am an addict. We all are. We have our addictions-- chemical, behavioral, and otherwise, and they rule our lives. Don't deny it. Some of us are even addicted to the internet when we could have a healthier habit like American Idol or Surviver.
Well, I've kicked one of my bad habits. Again. For the third time, actually. Please try not to snicker too loudly. After falling off the tobacco wagon nearly eight months ago, I can now proudly say I've been nicotine free for four days now. Woohoo! I know, you're thinking "big schmeal," but, I know that I've quit. It's like a switch in my head that I can turn off or on . . . easier, I'll admit to turn on, but not as hard as I thought to turn off.
Anyways, I'll keep this short, I know y'all don't really wanna read about this, I just felt good about it so I thought I'd share. Hey, at least I'm not sharing how good it feels to clip my toenails or dress up like a ballerina, or anything. Well, those are addictions to tackle another day.
Well, I've kicked one of my bad habits. Again. For the third time, actually. Please try not to snicker too loudly. After falling off the tobacco wagon nearly eight months ago, I can now proudly say I've been nicotine free for four days now. Woohoo! I know, you're thinking "big schmeal," but, I know that I've quit. It's like a switch in my head that I can turn off or on . . . easier, I'll admit to turn on, but not as hard as I thought to turn off.
Anyways, I'll keep this short, I know y'all don't really wanna read about this, I just felt good about it so I thought I'd share. Hey, at least I'm not sharing how good it feels to clip my toenails or dress up like a ballerina, or anything. Well, those are addictions to tackle another day.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Angry walls that steal the air
There are few experiences in this world to rival the pleasantness unique to doing the necessary in a construction job site restroom. You know, those lovely, sweet-smelling portable plastic out-houses? Ahhh, I feel blessed in my profession several times a day that it affords me such pleasures in life that I get to frequent these sanitary trophies of modern man. It really is quite nice---ehh, I know I'm sarcastic, but this is pushing it. Sorry.
The truth is, those bathrooms are NASTY!!!! And not nasty in a good way. In a bad, skin-crawling, want-to-wash-like-Howard-Hughes way. It takes a strong will, constitution, and an intense need pee to use these "restrooms." Even though I do, of necessity, use them, I still shudder occasionally at the state of them. Especially now, as the weather is warming and soon the flies will be swarming . . . man, I'm gonna need a stiff drink.
It's times like these that I'm thankful that my plumbing doesn't require that I sit to void my bladder. And I hope that doesn't offend all you of the feminine persuasion out there . . . I hope that most of you will rarely or never need to use one of these facilities.
What's worse is when the "honey-wagon" comes to "clean" them out. That raises a stench that can bring big burly men to their knees in tears. Honest, I've seen it happen. I met a man once who owned and operated his own truck cleaning porta-potties. Now, that's a shitty job. Seriously, I'm hard pressed to think of an occupation that more directly deals with human waste, save it be that of a politician.
An interesting aside to all this is the obscene graffiti that invariably graces the walls of these restrooms. Where rednecks and latinos flaunt their ignorance and prejudice in pictures and words. I sometimes find myself coming out of one shaking my head not at the stench--well, not wholly at that-- but at the realization that I'm surrounded by some stupid people who feel the need to show the rest of us how stupid they are with what they write therein.
Ok, I know this wasn't the wholesome post you've all come to expect from me, and that it really kind of smells. And maybe it speaks to my mental capacity, or lack thereof, that this is all I can think of to write about.
Oh, well, such is life. Hope all is well with all of you, and if you find yourself in need to use one of the above mentioned out-houses, I hope everything comes out all right.
The truth is, those bathrooms are NASTY!!!! And not nasty in a good way. In a bad, skin-crawling, want-to-wash-like-Howard-Hughes way. It takes a strong will, constitution, and an intense need pee to use these "restrooms." Even though I do, of necessity, use them, I still shudder occasionally at the state of them. Especially now, as the weather is warming and soon the flies will be swarming . . . man, I'm gonna need a stiff drink.
It's times like these that I'm thankful that my plumbing doesn't require that I sit to void my bladder. And I hope that doesn't offend all you of the feminine persuasion out there . . . I hope that most of you will rarely or never need to use one of these facilities.
What's worse is when the "honey-wagon" comes to "clean" them out. That raises a stench that can bring big burly men to their knees in tears. Honest, I've seen it happen. I met a man once who owned and operated his own truck cleaning porta-potties. Now, that's a shitty job. Seriously, I'm hard pressed to think of an occupation that more directly deals with human waste, save it be that of a politician.
An interesting aside to all this is the obscene graffiti that invariably graces the walls of these restrooms. Where rednecks and latinos flaunt their ignorance and prejudice in pictures and words. I sometimes find myself coming out of one shaking my head not at the stench--well, not wholly at that-- but at the realization that I'm surrounded by some stupid people who feel the need to show the rest of us how stupid they are with what they write therein.
Ok, I know this wasn't the wholesome post you've all come to expect from me, and that it really kind of smells. And maybe it speaks to my mental capacity, or lack thereof, that this is all I can think of to write about.
Oh, well, such is life. Hope all is well with all of you, and if you find yourself in need to use one of the above mentioned out-houses, I hope everything comes out all right.
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