–> youtube.com: ‘average homeboy’
–> kexp.org: john richards
I’m listening to You Just Don’t Understand: The Sociolinguistics of Everyday Conversation, partly because of the sociology, partly because of the linguistics, and partly because after so many years of trying, I still haven’t melted into the pot of Puget Sound. On a conscious level, I expend much energy doing my best imitation of a Californian. I can hear my self-editing self sounding drunk or retarded most of the time, and see listeners impatiently watch me struggle to express myself through this filter. Invariably the New Yorker goes off, as off-putting and confounding as a percussion grenade in this tea room we call home. Here, I am retarded and inarticulate, except for the times I am explosively unpredictable.
February 10 11:09 PM — In case you have not been looking at the news for, oh, I dunno, ever, it has rained a lot this year. Hills have slid away. Highways have moved. Highways have moved A LOT. But we finally have had a break in the weather. Yesterday was brisk. Today was moderate. And today we had sunshine. Lots and lots of sunshine.
I worked at home today, which meant that Noodle every 45 minutes stood by the door whining, explaining to me that it was much more fun to be outside than inside talking to a box. I took a break in the afternoon around three o’clock, which is the warmest time of the day in the back yard, to clear a pathway for a doggie play date tomorrow. Our arborist came this week and left his handiwork upon the ground, as we asked him to. This means that there are a lot of sticks about that could poke out a puppy eye. Noodle followed me around, waving various toys at me, dropping one to pick up another, until he could wobble no more. Chief dug numerous new pits in the yard so he could piss me off and eat dirt, mysteriously, which he has taken to doing. Perhaps he believes it is easier to eat his way through a hole than to dig it, which is more strain on his arthritic back.
Days like today make me hopeful that spring is coming. Intellectually, I know that spring is coming. The planet rotates, the solar system does whatever I learned in fifth grade, and the seasons change. But in January, which bleeds into February, I have a crisis of confidence. Today I believed that change will come.
I love being outside. Every moment that I am inside I feel like an irriplacable cell of my spirit is dying. In reflecting on the day, I think back to my favorite place to go as a child with a rust-colored Schwinn banana bike with chopper handlebars that my dad put together one Christmas eve and nothing to do until dinnertime. Inevitably, and often for eight or more hours each day, it was Stair Park.
March 15 11:19 AM — Holy cow it’s real-life Frogger.