May 9, 2010: Before we begin, let us, of course, welcome our newest member to the clatch -- Mr. Musician's Only (a.k.a. Analog Tom). His arrival here serves not only as a vindication of my subtle pestering, but as a veritable honor to those of us who believe our destiny lies hidden somewhere in the cantankerous beats of a metronome ...
Ah, so Mother's Day is back upon us. Those of us who've had mothers know how lovely the experience can be, especially after they're gone.
Now, I don't mean to sound facetious, but my mother kicked the bucket a few years back, and while she had her good qualities when she was alive -- I mean, being human, she must have -- her legend and legacy today continue to grow in girth, like our cat, who just can't stay away from the foodbowl. (Did you know that "girth" was spelled with an "i" by the way, and not an "e"?) What I'm saying is, her death only made her greater (my mother's, not the cat's).
You must understand, my mother was somehow larger than life. (A few of you -- meaning Matt -- remember her, so you know what I'm talking about.) My mother was more id than ego, or perhaps more Narcissus than Goldmund. (Forgive me, I'm struggling with the proper analogy.) She was bold, outspoken -- some would say rude. She was honest and insightful, but controlled all the tact of a West Nile mosquito. She was frighteningly blunt, self-centered, and mythically strange, and yet people loved her, especially people who didn't know her well.
It took some time to pass before I came to appreciate this woman for all her great qualities -- many of which I gratefully inherited, which made me the writer I am today (meaning a grossly underpaid one who has to blurt his noxious opinions into this ether for that minor modicum of creative satisfaction). She gave me -- probably without meaning to, because she was notoriously selfish -- the wide eyes with which I criticize, the insight to see everything that's wrong with everyone but me, the hard nose with which to call a spade a spade (at the risk of sounding racist), and the lovely, sometimes melancholy, sometimes grandiose, appreciation of art, beauty, and those things that are too strange for most people to appreciate, and yet are sometimes the most beautiful of all.
No, she was a good egg -- a rotten mother, but a good egg. And here, I'm being facetious, for she did the best she could with what she had, and I wouldn't have had another, despite all the weird suffering I incurred (including having to eat her chili). My god, who would want to trade the excitement in adult life of having to guess at what being normal is?! Who would want to be just like everyone else?
So, to all you mother lovers out there, I bid you have a happy day of celebration, and know that somewhere, at some time, some woman willingly spread her legs for you!
Showing posts with label Matthew Perry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew Perry. Show all posts
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Why I Hate My Blog
March 11, 2010: The fun's been slipping with this stupid Blah-ugh! Now, every time I open the site to see if anyone's been reading this dreck, I get a familiar cramp that tells me I hate being responsible for producing regular content that has to not only be intelligent and informative, but also funny.
Granted, there are little tastes of hope and satisfaction -- seeing Terry and S. recently join filled my heart ... for like a minute, then I realized they were just like the rest of you -- a horrible band of bloodsucking fanatics bent on pulling the life right out of my soul (or is it the soul right out of my life) with your merciless insistence that I be funny and wise and tasteful all at the same! Please, people, I can't be all three! Can't you just pick two?!
Anyway, I started this Blah-ugh! to share some of my hopes about life, including revelations around my sexual prowess and hatred of people who wear loafers without socks. (I also wanted to show Matt and Shannon up by beating them to the top of the Internet, but instead they both chose to steal my thunder with their own wordy rant sites.) Now, months later, I'm finding I have less and less to say, even though my mind still rattles on uncontrollably, like a runaway train. And in truth, it's not even really sure I'm doing my best part to improve humanity. To be honest, I've become torn between practicing an evergrowing enlightened awareness involving the spirituality of non-judgment, and simply wanting to be funny.
Anyway, anyway, I guess the real point is that I'm getting more and more lazy about bothering to write things out ... And that's why, going forward, I intend to devote more energy into nurturing the sexual prowess ...
Granted, there are little tastes of hope and satisfaction -- seeing Terry and S. recently join filled my heart ... for like a minute, then I realized they were just like the rest of you -- a horrible band of bloodsucking fanatics bent on pulling the life right out of my soul (or is it the soul right out of my life) with your merciless insistence that I be funny and wise and tasteful all at the same! Please, people, I can't be all three! Can't you just pick two?!
Anyway, I started this Blah-ugh! to share some of my hopes about life, including revelations around my sexual prowess and hatred of people who wear loafers without socks. (I also wanted to show Matt and Shannon up by beating them to the top of the Internet, but instead they both chose to steal my thunder with their own wordy rant sites.) Now, months later, I'm finding I have less and less to say, even though my mind still rattles on uncontrollably, like a runaway train. And in truth, it's not even really sure I'm doing my best part to improve humanity. To be honest, I've become torn between practicing an evergrowing enlightened awareness involving the spirituality of non-judgment, and simply wanting to be funny.
Anyway, anyway, I guess the real point is that I'm getting more and more lazy about bothering to write things out ... And that's why, going forward, I intend to devote more energy into nurturing the sexual prowess ...
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Halloween: The Real Pinnacle of Christian Values
October 31, 2009: I'd be remiss in my duties did I not take a few moments to meditate on my favorite day of the year -- Halloween (or, as it's more popularly known, "October 31st").
Contrary to what many of you rabid Bible-wielding fanatics (Shannon & Matt) may think, this is not some unholy celebration of Satan and those surly, disenfranchised minions of the Dark Lord (meaning those chubby people who wear lots of mascara and face jewelry, and listen to Led Zeppelin). No, in fact Halloween is the very essence of Christian community! Halloween is a powerful demonstration of old-fashioned Christian values, and at its best exemplifies the kind of orderly, clear-thinking unity that makes the Right Wing just get all wet down below.
On what other holiday (and I ask rhetorically) do we have such interaction with our neighbors? While 364.25 days of our average year are spent shunning our neighbor -- avoiding looks when we're cutting the lawn, turning our heads when we pass them on the street to avoid having to speak -- (at least this is how I handle it, and I consider myself quite average, despite my dashing good looks) -- on Halloween the excuse comes to walk right up to our neighbor's door and (through our children) demand gifts, (the whole time assessing how good or bad their home furnishing taste may be as judged by their front foyer). If this isn't a perfect opportunity to "love" our neighbor (as Jesus demanded in one of his mad rants), it's certainly a great chance to tolerate their presence because they're giving us candy.
Let's also not forget how good it is to see everyone in costume. Even ugly people can look brilliant in the right ensemble, and nothing brings the joys of youth and exuberance to the elderly or infirmed like a wolfman mask.
I can't say enough about Halloween. To me it was best captured by a certain old photograph taken by the late George Silk. (See the pic below my profile ... On the right, you fool! ... Yes, I know it's too small to see, but I'm a writer, not a computer technician! What do you want from me?!) Also, the movie "Halloween III," with the underrated Tom Atkins, as well as Orson Welles' "War of the Worlds" broadcast, bare trees, deranged pumpkins, and wooden xylophones played in minor keys.
Keep a Jack O'Lantern burning tonight, or throw food in the yard to appease the dead. (That's Halloween 101.) Expect the weirdest, for the barriers are down, and don't trust that the people you're interacting with are even them themselves, for this is Halloween, and it's not like other nights or days.
But most importantly, remember that Halloween is the antithesis of evil. It is, in fact, the real answer to the notorious moral cavity gaping in our society, like a sperm whale's blow hole. For all you fearful and fearing zealous Christian crazies (Matt & Shannon), who like to bash the off-beat celebration, ironically Halloween is the answer of which Ronald Reagan so rabidly dreamed -- a chance for folks to commune in the safety of darkness, and fool their neighbors into thinking they're all part of a loving, happy, magical world.
Contrary to what many of you rabid Bible-wielding fanatics (Shannon & Matt) may think, this is not some unholy celebration of Satan and those surly, disenfranchised minions of the Dark Lord (meaning those chubby people who wear lots of mascara and face jewelry, and listen to Led Zeppelin). No, in fact Halloween is the very essence of Christian community! Halloween is a powerful demonstration of old-fashioned Christian values, and at its best exemplifies the kind of orderly, clear-thinking unity that makes the Right Wing just get all wet down below.
On what other holiday (and I ask rhetorically) do we have such interaction with our neighbors? While 364.25 days of our average year are spent shunning our neighbor -- avoiding looks when we're cutting the lawn, turning our heads when we pass them on the street to avoid having to speak -- (at least this is how I handle it, and I consider myself quite average, despite my dashing good looks) -- on Halloween the excuse comes to walk right up to our neighbor's door and (through our children) demand gifts, (the whole time assessing how good or bad their home furnishing taste may be as judged by their front foyer). If this isn't a perfect opportunity to "love" our neighbor (as Jesus demanded in one of his mad rants), it's certainly a great chance to tolerate their presence because they're giving us candy.
Let's also not forget how good it is to see everyone in costume. Even ugly people can look brilliant in the right ensemble, and nothing brings the joys of youth and exuberance to the elderly or infirmed like a wolfman mask.
I can't say enough about Halloween. To me it was best captured by a certain old photograph taken by the late George Silk. (See the pic below my profile ... On the right, you fool! ... Yes, I know it's too small to see, but I'm a writer, not a computer technician! What do you want from me?!) Also, the movie "Halloween III," with the underrated Tom Atkins, as well as Orson Welles' "War of the Worlds" broadcast, bare trees, deranged pumpkins, and wooden xylophones played in minor keys.
Keep a Jack O'Lantern burning tonight, or throw food in the yard to appease the dead. (That's Halloween 101.) Expect the weirdest, for the barriers are down, and don't trust that the people you're interacting with are even them themselves, for this is Halloween, and it's not like other nights or days.
But most importantly, remember that Halloween is the antithesis of evil. It is, in fact, the real answer to the notorious moral cavity gaping in our society, like a sperm whale's blow hole. For all you fearful and fearing zealous Christian crazies (Matt & Shannon), who like to bash the off-beat celebration, ironically Halloween is the answer of which Ronald Reagan so rabidly dreamed -- a chance for folks to commune in the safety of darkness, and fool their neighbors into thinking they're all part of a loving, happy, magical world.
Friday, September 11, 2009
My Three Favorite Writers
September 11, 2009: My three favorite writers are Matt Perry, Lindsay Porter, and Shannon Woolfe. This slightly odd group of as-yet unknowns has consistently demonstrated their skill, sensitivity and committment to all that's special about the written word.
Like myself, they forge earnestly onward through the sometimes bitter, sometimes beautiful world of publishing. In process, despite the pulls of professional body English, their focus remains on the quality of each phrase they commit to the page, and each idea they're able, through considerable skill, to raise from the primordial ooze of untethered thought.
I look forward to the day when their individual works are recognized and find the kind of rich admiration they deserve. Until then, I'm only too glad to be among their most dedicated followers.
Like myself, they forge earnestly onward through the sometimes bitter, sometimes beautiful world of publishing. In process, despite the pulls of professional body English, their focus remains on the quality of each phrase they commit to the page, and each idea they're able, through considerable skill, to raise from the primordial ooze of untethered thought.
I look forward to the day when their individual works are recognized and find the kind of rich admiration they deserve. Until then, I'm only too glad to be among their most dedicated followers.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The Email Investment
August 26, 2009: My good friend Matthew Perry and I often correspond by email. We feel it's a fine practice, as we can't stand the sight of each other, but still like to stay in touch.
Many, many words -- and much wit and wisdom -- pass ephemerally through the esoteric airwaves of cyberspace, only to end up deleted and forgotten at some point. (I delete his words promptly, as they often just annoy me.) So much time and attention is invested in our communication, and to what end? As a writer, I've often asked myself what the point was.
So it seemed prudent to finally start this strange process of "blogging," and thanks to the fine people at -- (and you see, here I'm fearful to mention their names, as it might violate their policy or something) -- I'm happy to say that my thoughtful words will no longer be wasted on that cad. (Please understand, I think a great deal of Matt, but I'm still waiting for him to return my lawnmower, which he borrowed in the early 1990's.)
So let the blogging begin. (What an awful word!)
Many, many words -- and much wit and wisdom -- pass ephemerally through the esoteric airwaves of cyberspace, only to end up deleted and forgotten at some point. (I delete his words promptly, as they often just annoy me.) So much time and attention is invested in our communication, and to what end? As a writer, I've often asked myself what the point was.
So it seemed prudent to finally start this strange process of "blogging," and thanks to the fine people at -- (and you see, here I'm fearful to mention their names, as it might violate their policy or something) -- I'm happy to say that my thoughtful words will no longer be wasted on that cad. (Please understand, I think a great deal of Matt, but I'm still waiting for him to return my lawnmower, which he borrowed in the early 1990's.)
So let the blogging begin. (What an awful word!)
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