"Right on my biscuit"

the first person to correctly identify who said that and in what movie wins something. the catch being that you can't be a family member of mine or use the internet. you just have to know. i just know. and it's this simple fact that woke me up at four o'clock in the morning about 5 days ago. a conversation i had had before retiring was rambling around in my head. a friend of mine, in casual conversation, had said, "i like to watch." then he got a little smile on his face indicating that the phrase was special to him. in an unexpected blast of the antithesis of pop culture brilliance, i referred to him as Chance the Gardener. i felt a completely unjustified pride swell through my members. anyway. there is no point to this story. but thinking about it woke me up at four a.m.
well, it wasn't the only thing that woke me up. i had this crazy vision of these pirates getting shipwrecked on an island with all their booty. you know, all their useless booty, since it was worth nothing to them on the island and no one there even knew who elvis costello was. so they melted down their gold and silver and made a giant image to the god of desalination- that particular god being of particular importance to them at this particular juncture in their pirate lives. so i was wondering if that made them desalinationalistic. the other two thoughts plaguing my weary brain were that i didn't like the notion of powerful ring-leaders in the spirit realm and that the difference between my company and me was that i would never just lay my toothbrush down on the edge of someone elses sink. it's obviously way easier for bacterium to climb on it there than if it were tidily placed away somewhere out of the beaten germ-infested path or at leasted hoisted up in the air so that those bacterium would have to work for it.
"elevate me" "what, here?now?"

bird and byrd 

Rabid Pigeons and "the Circle of Fifths"

Is a rabid pigeon one that is wearing a kippa? I'm no pigeon expert (i don't know where they keep their babies either, folks. i know it's a hot topic in certain circles), but I'm pretty sure one rammed into the side of house around 9am with the force of something very forceful and alarming. The kind of loud forcefulness that makes you say shit in bed and stick your head under the covers. Poor pigeon. You want I should teach you how to fly?
Then Michelle came over around noonish and gave me one heck of a piano lesson. I started off feeling sorry that I hadn't practiced just a wee bit more, but she makes me feel like a million bucks! I know deep in her heart she wants to teach me methodically, but when I ask the right questions she jumps ahead and I get a glimple of the secret piano society. I am now in the know on "the circle of fifths". I wish I could say they were elusive because "the elusive circle of fifths" has a nice ring to it, but there isn't too much elusive about notes and mathematics. It's all math, man. Convince me not, for I already am.
Tiberius sat on my hand while I played and she said that was a first for her teaching career. My fecal instincts alerted me to his desire to poop just in time. Aha! The world ain't got nothing on me.

Clap, clap Clap,clap

I really sort of think that My Valuable Hunting Knife by GBV has pretty much the happiest beat of any song. When I listen to it, I dance and clap my hands. I promise. I've seen me do it. Recently.

Lookie! It's the family.  

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again...

...only it wasn't Manderlay, it was Taylorsville. Taylorsville is the tiny ville between the mart of rocks and the ville of Carters. I dreamt granny was alive. Again. When she is alive in my dreams, I always know she is really dead and I am always very careful around her. She seems very delicate and I don't want to make her disappear. Last night, I went to the movies with her! This is something that I don't think ever took place in real life. My parents dropped me off at granny and paw's (sic) a couple of times when they went to the movies I think. Or maybe they went to "the movies". Maybe it was code. I wonder if I will ever see her again. I miss her.
In browsing around on the internet, I sometimes see things that make me feel funny in my stomach. I see things written by and to a girl I know. It seems to me that she is surrounded by people that try to make her feel special and basically like she is just the neatest, most original and solid thing since sliced bread. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that and I figure it must be nice to have people kissing your ass all the time and telling you how wonderful you are and otherwise intimating that they appreciate you for what you really are. Heh. I sort of try to imagine what it would be like to be around be who appreciate you for what you are...or who you feel like appreciate you for what you are. I suppose that's what it's really about. I feel like I am only appreciated for sticking around. So, I'm here. Oh well. Feeling sorry for one's self is probably the most unatractive thing a person can do perioid, ever. It has certainly screwed me over. At least now I only feel for sorry for myself about once or twice a month instead of once or twice a minute.
I have to go. I am late for a meeting at a fire department, oddly enough. I want coffee. For those of you who are keeping track, I think I have happily lost the battle both against coffee and alcohol addiction.
Man, I bet some people with no sense of humour will read this and shake their heads in sincere condescending judgement. At least I can still feel sorry for other people too. We are really all in the same giant boat. I don't know why some people have to act like they are watching you from the solid ground.

TIBERIUS: posing for his big Birdies Quarterly spead 

i WILL eat the middle of yer kuchen

i promise you, i will.
i had a splendid idea today: designer fragrance enemas.
yepperdooper.
i may actually start up a site or blog soon entitled "fecal matters" that will be entirely dedicated to poo in general and mine in specific.
i just had greasy, yummy dim sum.
my parents were resently here and we took them to niagara falls and toronto. lots of cyclists in toronto. my dad would fit in well. i remember riding bikes with him as a teenager and him zooming past me bellowing (or the closest thing he does to a bellow), "the road wasn't made for turtles!". despite the fact that i have been reading since i was 3 or 4, i still forget how to punctuate exactly when quoting. so much for trying to deceive folks into believing i am of above average intelligence- that being, of course, my primary goal in life.
(imagine furrowed eyebrows)
another saying my dad used to taunt me with while we were cycling was this: get those little legs moving like pistons! i really hated that one. for some reason it made me feel dirty and uncomfortable. perhaps it was the "engine talk". my father also once rode his bicycle directly over a dead, swollen possum. his bicycle tire popped the possums body open like a can of Grand's biscuits. (Grand's is naturally paying me heartily for that endorsement of their fine-read: sorely lacking- product)
sigh...
the sue unit is staying the weekend in nyc, i believe. i wonder what adventures she will have there. she is nice and i am grateful for her friendship. i haven't had many female friends in my life. maybe that's my fault. i have always tended to blame it on womankind, though. despite my pseudo-feminist leanings, i get very disgusted with my own gender. however, i know several that have good reason to be disgusted with me. why is life so very confusing? it's like pasta. it's all over the place and hard to follow and leaves you feeling heavy.
i want more friends. friendship is such a simple concept and yet people tend to think you strange when you try to develop one with them out of the blue. what's the big deal? am i creepy? we build houses in a giant world and say, This is mine! Keep out, world! However, you are beautiful, I will put windows in my house. Storm windows, though-so that i am not affected by you, world. And just for good measure, maybe I'll throw up some curtains, because I know everyone else is unnaturally interested in what goes on with ME.
we are all idiots. just read our blogs.

la fille 

the universe gave me the finger

as i was whizzing through the protoplasm of space in my shuttlecraft the other day, the stars took on a peculiar shape. perhaps it was just my angle, but i could swear the universe gave me the finger.
i distinctly recall the first time i heard certain albums- bjork's "vespertine" and nick cave's "and no more shall we part", for example. i felt like i was adrift in a beautiful, awe-inspiring space that somehow held a numbing, melancholy or a very alert lassitude, if you will. i could happily stay in that state forever. people sometimes say they could happily do a certain thing for the rest of their lives, but they rarely do the said thing, even though the choice is there. we are an odd lot.