dontfeartheringo wrote:

Just tell me I looked cooler than the others and I'll be happy.

Well, Tommy was wearing a Skint records football jersey, which may be something I just made up in my head and does not exist in the waking world, but I coveted it.

I suspected that Tommy would upstage me, that youthful, fashionista trollop...

You do indeed have an impressively visual memory of dream, which I too covet.

Looking up after writing that, I see Barthes' "A Lover's Discourse", and I have decided to bring it with me. I gave up reading it inexplicably almost two years ago in some kind of fugue.

My daughter has been projectile vomiting all night and now there is no water in the E6-E16 postcode area. Nice. Her school is shut (because of the lack of water), and I have a shitload of work to do on little sleep. Bollocks.

dontfeartheringo wrote:Well, Tommy was wearing a Skint records football jersey, which may be something I just made up in my head and does not exist in the waking world, but I coveted it.

This would be the shirt of Brighton and Hove Albion.

rashiedgarrison wrote:My daughter has been projectile vomiting all night and now there is no water in the E6-E16 postcode area. Nice. Her school is shut (because of the lack of water), and I have a shitload of work to do on little sleep. Bollocks.

No water? What kind of backwards-ass country do you live in?

Projectile vomiting is no fun, no matter when it happens. I hope she stops soon.

My family is about to move to a new place, so we've been packing things up piecemeal. Yesterday, I finally had a chance to go through several boxes of papers, letters, and writings that I had accumulated over the past 15 or 20 years. It was time to purge most of this stuff, which had been boxed up in storage for a long time and which I never revisited. Strangely, it was still pretty melancholy.

Included in this stuff was a small box of the love/break-up letters my first "real" love wrote me when I was 17. Note to self: consider not making fun of emo kids so much.

But the coolest thing I found in those boxes--I didn't throw this away--was a photo of a tile I made in elementary school. Here's the story:

Back in the days of the Cold War, Seattle's sister city in the Soviet Union was Tashkent. A Peace Park was built in Tashkent, and kids from certain schools made tiles for the park. Our class made them. It was one of those things you do for an hour one day and then never think about again.

Several years later, a friend of mine, Mira, finds me and asks me if I ever made a tile for a peace park in Tashkent. She was part of some choral group that had just done a tour of several cities in the USSR (Moscow, Kiev, etc.)--in fact, the Iron Curtain fell while they were over there. It just so happened that they were walking through the park in Tashkent when she saw my name written on this now-crumbling tile. She had taken a photo and gave it to me.

I should scan the photo. It was cool to find it and to think about what an improbable event that was.

Wood Goblin wrote:My family is about to move to a new place, so we've been packing things up piecemeal. Yesterday, I finally had a chance to go through several boxes of papers, letters, and writings that I had accumulated over the past 15 or 20 years. It was time to purge most of this stuff, which had been boxed up in storage for a long time and which I never revisited. Strangely, it was still pretty melancholy.

Included in this stuff was a small box of the love/break-up letters my first "real" love wrote me when I was 17. Note to self: consider not making fun of emo kids so much.

But the coolest thing I found in those boxes--I didn't throw this away--was a photo of a tile I made in elementary school. Here's the story:

Back in the days of the Cold War, Seattle's sister city in the Soviet Union was Tashkent. A Peace Park was built in Tashkent, and kids from certain schools made tiles for the park. Our class made them. It was one of those things you do for an hour one day and then never think about again.

Several years later, a friend of mine, Mira, finds me and asks me if I ever made a tile for a peace park in Tashkent. She was part of some choral group that had just done a tour of several cities in the USSR (Moscow, Kiev, etc.)--in fact, the Iron Curtain fell while they were over there. It just so happened that they were walking through the park in Tashkent when she saw my name written on this now-crumbling tile. She had taken a photo and gave it to me.

I should scan the photo. It was cool to find it and to think about what an improbable event that was.

Wonderful story, W.G.

It's totaly freezing, and the stray cat ate a whole plate of bacon last night. I know other people have started feeding him. He's gonna get fat as hell.
murrphh...

Feral kitty tracks.

the 5th comcast guy came by and i told him we need a new line run to the house, as i've told every guy who's been by. what he did: nothing. fucking nothing. again.

god dammit.

Brett Eugene Ralph wrote:

Wood Goblin wrote:My family is about to move to a new place, so we've been packing things up piecemeal. Yesterday, I finally had a chance to go through several boxes of papers, letters, and writings that I had accumulated over the past 15 or 20 years. It was time to purge most of this stuff, which had been boxed up in storage for a long time and which I never revisited. Strangely, it was still pretty melancholy.

Included in this stuff was a small box of the love/break-up letters my first "real" love wrote me when I was 17. Note to self: consider not making fun of emo kids so much.

But the coolest thing I found in those boxes--I didn't throw this away--was a photo of a tile I made in elementary school. Here's the story:

Back in the days of the Cold War, Seattle's sister city in the Soviet Union was Tashkent. A Peace Park was built in Tashkent, and kids from certain schools made tiles for the park. Our class made them. It was one of those things you do for an hour one day and then never think about again.

Several years later, a friend of mine, Mira, finds me and asks me if I ever made a tile for a peace park in Tashkent. She was part of some choral group that had just done a tour of several cities in the USSR (Moscow, Kiev, etc.)--in fact, the Iron Curtain fell while they were over there. It just so happened that they were walking through the park in Tashkent when she saw my name written on this now-crumbling tile. She had taken a photo and gave it to me.

I should scan the photo. It was cool to find it and to think about what an improbable event that was.

Wonderful story, W.G.

+1

Josef K wrote:

dontfeartheringo wrote:

Josef K wrote:

dontfeartheringo wrote:The little girl who snubbed Vincent Gallo at the Anna Sui fashion show is the daughter of a friend of mine.

Apparently, he smelled a bit off.

That sounds like the behaviour of a precocious brat.

Do you mean the not-bathing, mincing around in public dressed like a victorian dandy with a soap allergy bit? or the leaning away from the stink cloud and trying to fan away the funk bit?

just curious.

Ok, I've no idea how Gallo smelled, but if either of my kids acted in the manner reported of that child, I'd explain to them that there are more courteous ways to handle the situation.

i disagree, i think the fact that it was vincent gallo she handled the situation brilliantly. there's no courtesy that allows vincent gallo to go around funking shit up.