I asked my father,
I said, "Father change my name."
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
-- Lover Lover Lover by Leonard Cohen
After a mostly sleepless night, punctuated by the repeated shrilling of someone's poorly configured car alarm, I got up before the sun and walked a picket line (I'm angling for sympathy here, I think.
)
It was relatively warm for this time of year, but by the end of the four hours out, my joints were stiffening from the cold. I spent much of the picket handing out informational flyers to passersby and line crossers. I'm scared to bring it up for fear of jinxing it, but I think I'm blessed with the gift of connecting with strangers. Almost everyone took a flyer, made eye contact and smiled at me. That was a good feeling.
Then I got home to a message from my rather strange prospective new insurance agent. He sounds like he should be saying DA Bears, and every third word is an expletive. As long as he gets my new insurance package out to me and I don't actually have to go into any sort of office, he could speak in tongues for all I care.
I spent much of the afternoon in lazing, much of it horizontal in the super fuzzy blanket with the made in china zombie dolphins on it. I have pondered whether they are part of some sort of cutting edge sino-military research. The US has conscripted live dolphins who, let's face it, likely get jittery around all those mines. The Chinese version, I suspect, involves basic training, aquatic mammal headsets, and necromancy. Undead dolphins would be the ultimate marine. They don't require leave or pay. Just toss them a marlin brain once in awhile.
So anyway, yes, I was lying on the couch surmising the diabolical blueprint aspect of my fuzzy blanket and whiling away the hours. When it got dark, I lit candles and watched CSI, a show which I've decided is decidely light in the original writing department, but heavy enough in the attractive stars I'd like to do nasty stuff with category. I switched off the tv and got immediate confirmation that it does, indeed, rot your brain.
I felt empty.
From my couch I can see the skyscraper luxury apartments next door. I could see floor upon floor of varying lights -- 24 lives within immediate view -- so close to each other, and likely having not even the faintest clue about their neighbours' lives.
It's enough to make me want to eat ice cream.
I said, "Father change my name."
The one I'm using now it's covered up
with fear and filth and cowardice and shame.
-- Lover Lover Lover by Leonard Cohen
After a mostly sleepless night, punctuated by the repeated shrilling of someone's poorly configured car alarm, I got up before the sun and walked a picket line (I'm angling for sympathy here, I think.
)
It was relatively warm for this time of year, but by the end of the four hours out, my joints were stiffening from the cold. I spent much of the picket handing out informational flyers to passersby and line crossers. I'm scared to bring it up for fear of jinxing it, but I think I'm blessed with the gift of connecting with strangers. Almost everyone took a flyer, made eye contact and smiled at me. That was a good feeling.
Then I got home to a message from my rather strange prospective new insurance agent. He sounds like he should be saying DA Bears, and every third word is an expletive. As long as he gets my new insurance package out to me and I don't actually have to go into any sort of office, he could speak in tongues for all I care.
I spent much of the afternoon in lazing, much of it horizontal in the super fuzzy blanket with the made in china zombie dolphins on it. I have pondered whether they are part of some sort of cutting edge sino-military research. The US has conscripted live dolphins who, let's face it, likely get jittery around all those mines. The Chinese version, I suspect, involves basic training, aquatic mammal headsets, and necromancy. Undead dolphins would be the ultimate marine. They don't require leave or pay. Just toss them a marlin brain once in awhile.
So anyway, yes, I was lying on the couch surmising the diabolical blueprint aspect of my fuzzy blanket and whiling away the hours. When it got dark, I lit candles and watched CSI, a show which I've decided is decidely light in the original writing department, but heavy enough in the attractive stars I'd like to do nasty stuff with category. I switched off the tv and got immediate confirmation that it does, indeed, rot your brain.
I felt empty.
From my couch I can see the skyscraper luxury apartments next door. I could see floor upon floor of varying lights -- 24 lives within immediate view -- so close to each other, and likely having not even the faintest clue about their neighbours' lives.
It's enough to make me want to eat ice cream.
VIEW 21 of 21 COMMENTS
I hope your rockin the thermals out there on the line. You know what works good unisuits. You know those one piece thermals, those plus one more layer. You'll be set.
ok, lmao at the diabolical blueprint blanket. that may be the best thing i've heard ... well, basically ever. i love it. marlin brains all around! i especially love it because my sister's swim team as a child was called the blue marlins, and i love the idea of a troupe of child zombie swimmers going around and feasting on the brains of unsuspecting summer sunners. hee.
sending you much sympathy, and support, for your picketness. hopefully things will warm up - at least from the communication perspective - soon.
♥