Thursday, October 27, 2005

A Careful Eye On Hurricane Hanes

I'm not sure why, but I haven't had much to say recently and therefore haven't posted to my little 'blog for almost two weeks. Part of the reason is due to crippling depression...that tends to clog the toilet of the mind. But I still find myself entranced by what is happening in the world. Well, some of the things, anyway. I wasn't "entranced" by the annoying bastard who was yelling outside my window last night, and he is as surely as much a part of this world as anyone.

One of the things happening these days that has grabbed my attention is the number of hurricanes we've experienced. Although I really have had my fill of television reporters standing in the windswept rain of some coastal city. As I write this, we have started naming hurricanes with the Greek alphabet and are now looking at Hurricane "Beta." I think the people at NOAA should have gone with a different naming scheme, like the "Muppets," for example. I don't know about you, but hurricane "Beeker" or "Animal" just strikes me as more compelling. Or even better, why not let corporate America come to our aid by sponsoring hurricanes. Who among us could ignore hurricane "Viagra" or tropical storm "Virgin Atlantic?"

Right now, I find my T-shirt to be a source of great consternation. For me, it eclipses the disturbing impact of any earthquake or storm. In an attempt to save minor ducets, I purchased a gross of "irregular" T-shirts. There is nothing preventing them from selling a totally unwearable undershirt, so long as they put "irregular" on there. For all I knew, there might have been no neck-hole. That certainly would challenge the boundaries of "regular." But my torment comes in a more subtle form, a minor demon, if you will. This undershirt just isn't right in some way that I can't figure out. I took it off the other day and really analyzed it, but found nothing I can report. Is it all in my head? Am I the irregular here?

Compelling stuff, to be sure.

Monday, October 17, 2005

At a loss...

Greetings, everyone. I haven't posted a single comment to my 'blog in the last month due to a long-awaited trip to Little Rock, Arkansas to visit my beloved Donna. Seeing Donna again was the "long-awaited" part, not the part about seeing Little Rock. Before my trip was all over, I had traveled 3,200 miles via Greyhound Bus. It truly is an unpleasant way to travel, and should only be done if a lack of money prevents any other means. Naturally, I'm poor, so I took my place among the rubes, hicks, boobs, and dips. Perhaps I'll write about it later, perhaps not. We'll see what comes up in therapy.

Donna has a lovely place in Little Rock that is a sort of enclave of progressive thinking. Not just her apartment, but the whole neighborhood. While I was there I took in the Clinton Presidential Center and Park, which comes complete with a lone protester calling for Clinton's impeachment. I think the ship has sailed on that one.

Before leaving for the South, I told myself not to get into any arguments that might end up with my getting my nose pushed in. When I visited North Carolina, my brother-in-law withstood a withering attack by yours truly (I forget what about), and I'm pretty sure he was a minute away from knocking me out. As a drill sergeant, it would have been easy for him. Actually, just about anyone could take me in a fight, which is why I avoid them. But I am passionate about my socialist, left-wing wacko philosophy, so I have to learn to tone it down a bit. When the conversation turned to bow hunting on the bus, which it seemed bound to do and did, I just turned up my headphones and listened to The Kinks.

But I'm home now, just in time to check in with my probation officer for my minor shoplifting charge. I already miss Donna again, and her three cats, Rosie, Bodhi, and Madeline. But the comforts of home help soften that blow, like my cats, my father's debate, and his coffee, which is almost supernatural in its power.

Anyone want to talk? I'm right here.