And the oldies are new again...
Damn iTunes. A song off of an "old" album of mine slips into the shuffle and things get wacky. Music always had this power to make memories crisp. To bring back images...times...places...people. Haunting, almost.
I look at a section of torn-off napkin to find a friend's email address, scribbled onto it a couple nights ago at the pub. "Shoulda fuckin' betta known betta." Can't read it. I bet it looked completely legible at the time. I remember Aeon Flux, when it was on late on MTV...there was something that applies here. One guy was invisible, simply because he was vibrating side-to-side so quickly. So in order to see (and thusly communicate with) him, one needed to be in this special contraption that vibrated you at the same frequency as the dude. Well, apparently bar-scribble is the same way. Like some ancient Sanskrit, Biff's pen appears to only be legibly to the terribly gifted. Maybe I should bring it to the pub tonight for translation.
Biscuit is sitting on top of the monitor...squinting at me. She's just jealous of my thumbs. I hope she can't read, for she might be logging on and reading my blogs and planning her own private Jihad with her co-conspirators. Such things actually roll through my head at night. No wonder I sleep so well. And thank goodness for this horrifically dry sense of humor. My Dad taught me well.
I do love my folks. I really am eager for them to be living out here. Simply because I like seeing them once in a while. It's nice to come full circle. A little over an hour away is perfect...too far to just drop by and close enough that I can see them when I want to. I just wish things were different years ago. But someone taught me to be grateful for however little I have. I can never really seem to remember that often enough.
OK, off to the pub for some beers, and maybe Chinese food. We'll see. Nite, kids.
-Rich
I look at a section of torn-off napkin to find a friend's email address, scribbled onto it a couple nights ago at the pub. "Shoulda fuckin' betta known betta." Can't read it. I bet it looked completely legible at the time. I remember Aeon Flux, when it was on late on MTV...there was something that applies here. One guy was invisible, simply because he was vibrating side-to-side so quickly. So in order to see (and thusly communicate with) him, one needed to be in this special contraption that vibrated you at the same frequency as the dude. Well, apparently bar-scribble is the same way. Like some ancient Sanskrit, Biff's pen appears to only be legibly to the terribly gifted. Maybe I should bring it to the pub tonight for translation.
Biscuit is sitting on top of the monitor...squinting at me. She's just jealous of my thumbs. I hope she can't read, for she might be logging on and reading my blogs and planning her own private Jihad with her co-conspirators. Such things actually roll through my head at night. No wonder I sleep so well. And thank goodness for this horrifically dry sense of humor. My Dad taught me well.
I do love my folks. I really am eager for them to be living out here. Simply because I like seeing them once in a while. It's nice to come full circle. A little over an hour away is perfect...too far to just drop by and close enough that I can see them when I want to. I just wish things were different years ago. But someone taught me to be grateful for however little I have. I can never really seem to remember that often enough.
OK, off to the pub for some beers, and maybe Chinese food. We'll see. Nite, kids.
-Rich
posted by Rich at 2/22/2006 06:37:00 PM
2 Comments:
Did you bring your napkin back to the bar to try re- tapping the right/write frequency?
I tried and tried. But only twice. I think I need to go back tonight. They say the third time is a charm.
-Rich
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