PriorBlog

This poet I met a few weeks back, Allen Bramhall, has just become Boston’s Official Poet Laureate. One of the things I enjoy about meeting new people, you never know what their back story is. One day you’re drinking a beer with somebody, and the next day you find out they’re the first ever Poet Laureate for the city of Boston.

On Thursday, right before leaving work, I noticed that somebody had smashed in the top tube of my bicycle frame. I don’t mean merely dented, I mean smashed. The frame is ruined. I’m going to guess that whatever happened was an accident, because I really don’t think anyody hates me that much, but what really is infuriating me right now is that one of the owners of the company, instead of assessing the damage and trying to work with his insurance company to get me a new frame, is stonewalling and acting like it’s my fault that the frame was damaged. It looks like I am going to have to go to small claims court to settle with the company I worked with for almost five years, over something they are insured for anyway.

This owner guy has always hated the fact that I rode a bike to work, making condescending comments about how I should buy a car, et cetera, which is funny because I can’t afford a car on the salary he pays me. When we moved to the office we are currently in he made a big stink about no bikes being allowed in the building. Now he is saying that because I did not have written permission to bring my bike into the building, that he shouldn’t be bothered with having to make a phone call to his insurance company. I should note that management eventually re-assured me that it was okay to store my bike in the mail room, but I guess since I wasn’t savvy enough to insist upon a written proviso allowing for me to have personal property at work, I’m in the wrong.

If there is a silver lining to having my beloved bike destroyed by my company, who then substitutes insults for apologies, it is that I’ve gotten off my ass and started firing out resumes. Or is that, I’ve gotten on my ass, parked it at the keyboard, and fired out resumes. My day job isn’t very demanding or interesting, and maybe for too long I’ve thought that was only fair, since I do side jobs as well.

I am still really angry though. I feel like I’ll only be happy again when I get myself out of that company.

I just wanted to note that I was just watching the D-Rays beat the Yankees, and the D-Rays announcer described Al Reyes as “painting the corners like Rembrandt.”

A few weeks ago my buddy Ricco came over to help me dispose of a giant couch.  My wife had called around and people were charging $250 to dispose of couches for you.  With Ricco’s help, I was able to take the couch to my work and dump it in the dumpster here.  Since it was a Sunday nobody was around, and it was cool because during the week I got to hear everybody say, “Hey did you see there’s a couch in the dumpster?”

It seems like somebody else has caught on to this little scheme.  This is not to say I’ve been uncovered, but that a fellow employee has realized the potential the workplace dumpster has in terms of ridding yourself of large amounts of unwanted material possessions.  And yes, I realize there’s some type of Marxist critique going on around here somewhere, but I don’t feel like sorting things out enough to explain it.  Plus, you’re smarter than me anyways so what good would that do.  On with the story. 

How did I discover this?  I was just taking some stuff out to the dumpster and while I was back there noticed a bunch of household items.  To be truthful, this wasn’t the first time I had seen somebody’s things in the dumpster, but it was the first time the stuff was interesting.  The best thing I found was a wedding album from the early 70’s.  I was all set to post all of the pictures on my blog with commentary, but before I started scanning them I decided to go back to the dumpster and dive a little more.  After moving aside a couple of filled Hefty Bags, I found two baseball gloves!  Total score, but then I noticed while trying them on for size, on the outside of the thumbs of the gloves the last name of one of the women that works in my building was written with magic marker.  Shit!  I had left the wedding album (which had its front cover ripped off) on my desk.  If she walked by, she would have seen her wedding out on display for all to see.  Considering that the marriage ended in divorce, and what remained of it (presumably, but for narrative effect let’s say assuredly) was a torn up wedding album, I don’t think she would be too appreciative of me finding humor in that part of her life.  Also, even though I didn’t recognize her in the album, she might think that I did recognize her, and was putting the album out as some way to personally make fun of her, when in fact all I wanted to do was to make fun of her in the most abstract way, as a person whose lack of identity imprisons them within a series of dated images.  I mean, that’s always hilarious, right?

I guess not.  Now that I feel bad about it, I am recalling those prison photographs taken by the Khmer Rouge before they tortured and executed people.  I always found them fascinating, especially the ones in which the subject appears to betray no emotion.  Did they know what fate had in store for them?

From the Center for Holocaust and Genocide Studies at the University of Minnesota’s website, which has some of the 6000 pictures:

“By the time S-21 was discovered, most of the inmates’ photographs had been separated from their dossiers, rendering them anonymous. The majority of the people pictured in the exhibition are therefore unidentified by name.”

I think the worst part of being tortured to death would be right at that breaking point, when you realize your tormenters no longer have any regard for thresholds.  It must be absolutely horrifying, and yet it happens.  Piece by piece your body becomes absolutely useless for any purpose other than to provide pain.  Awful stuff.

How I got from dumpster diving to genocide is beyond me.  

Muses

This morning on NPR they had a piece on Kristen Hersh of Throwing Muses fame.  Or maybe it should just be Kristen Hersh of Kristen Hersh fame, because I guess she’s been solo now for longer than she was with the band.  Whatever.  NPR always does its best to lionize the marginally famous and today was no exception.  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Throwing Muses or Kristen Hersh, but the laudatory comments on NPR drove me up the wall.  First they had some ‘zine writer who mentioned that Throwing Muses were the first American band to get signed by 4AD, and this opened the door for other Boston acts to get big, like the Pixies, Bosstones, Julianna Hatfield, and The Lemonheads.  Uh, let’s not confuse early with seminal, bub.  I find it a real stretch to believe that if not for Throwing Muses the world would never have been blessed to have heard the Mighty Mighty Bosstones.  But that wasn’t the best part.  The best part was some woman talking about the positive effect Throwing Muses had on women who wanted to play music, and how you could draw a direct line of influence from them to other types of music including, get this, Riot Grrl.  This is about as good an example of pushing a tenuous relation to the brink of absurdity as I think you’ll find.  To illustrate my point, let’s just take it a step further. 

Riot Grrl were women bands of the nineties.  The Corrs is a female band from the zeroes.  Riot Grrl music influenced on the Corrs.

Upon Further Review

I noticed while toggling around my Bluehost account that the server my websites are located on is physically located in Utah.  Therefore, I think this might be as good a time as any to take back all of those nasty things I said about Mormons a few weeks back, and mention that I saw six Mormon kids parading up and down Florence Street just this past weekend.  They were all very neatly dressed.  It was a pleasure to see idealistic young people out in the streets, trying to do some good.  Although I’ve never read the Book of Mormon, I think I will give it a try.  I’ve heard it’s very interesting!

Bummer 

Read about David Halberstam passing away after I got home last night.  Summer of ‘49 is one of the best baseball books ever, even if it has a lousy ending.  Which is sort of like Halberstam in a way.

I’ve always wanted to see a no-hitter.  I think they’re the coolest thing to happen in baseball.  I was reading the box score on usatoday and noticed the game highlights section for Mark Buehrle’s no-no the other day.  Even though I don’t think it’s intentional, the constant repitition of fact highlights the excitement of a no-no much better than saying, oh by the way, Mark Buerle threw a no-hitter.  Not to diminish the feat, but have you seen the Rangers batting averages lately?

Game Highlights

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox Rangers Jerry Hairston Jr. ejected in 3rd.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox CWS: Jim Thome’s 476th HR puts him alone at 24th all-time.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 4 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 5 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 5.1 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 5.2 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 6 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox CWS: Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 6 innings.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 6.1 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 6.2 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 7 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox CWS: Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 7 innings.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 7.1 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 7.2 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 8 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox CWS: Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 8 innings.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 8.1 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 8.2 IP.

AL Texas at Chicago White Sox White Sox Mark Buehrle has a no-hitter through 9 IP.

Next to the place I work there is a cloverleaf type series of highway exits. Since I started working here I have been very tempted to venture into that no-man’s land surrounded by the nearest curving highway exit lane. There are a lot of different trees I’ve noticed, and since no people (presumably) ever go there, I’ll bet there are also a fair number of rare and exquisite birds.

It would be a perfect place for a picnic. I could spend my lunch half-hour in quiet seclusion there, just me and the trees. The only problem is getting there. As far as I can tell, there are only two options.

plate 1a

1. I could cross the road(s). This is probably the easiest way to get over there, but it is also extremely dangerous. Since the road curves at such a tight angle, a car could very suddenly come up on me as I made my way across. Plus, it would require crossing not one but two lanes as you can see from plate 1a.

plate 1b

2. There is a tunnel (plate 1b) that goes under both lanes of highway and connects no-man’s land to the parking lot at my office park. The tunnel (see the red line on plate 1a) is large enough for me to crouch down and shuffle through to the other side, but to get to the entrance on my side of the road, you have to wade through about two and a half feet of creek water. Did I mention that the tunnel has water flowing through it? Not a lot of water. Enough that you could avoid it if you kept your feet splayed out as you crouch-walked to no-man’s land. The main problem is that 2.5 feet of water on the way in. My plan is to wear Glad trash bags around my legs in order to surmount the approach to the tunnel entrance without getting soaked.

When I get there, I will take a bunch of pictures and stuff so it will be like you were there with me. This will all happen when the weather gets warmer. Stay tuned.

Hey Mr. President, here’s our chance to get into those Iranian nuclear power plants once and for all.  Let’s build them and get paid for it.  Even if the Iranians couldn’t keep up with the bills, it would be worth it in terms of oversight and security.  If we played our cards right, we could make the deal contingent on our also getting contracts to install nearby Disney Worlds.  Each and every Mickey Mouse with surveilance camera implants for eyes.  The ears are already large enough to pick up anything we’d need to hear.  This is a “fucking lay up” as a sales guy I used to know was fond of saying.

Had a great time with the poets.  The reading was on Friday night, you can read an account of it here.  I am mentioned in the post at the end as the enthusiastic guy who went to high school with Brady.  I didn’t really go to the same high school with her, but that’s neither here nor there.  I bet that you are happy to read about me in another blog, because you had doubts that I really existed.  Well, there I am.