I forwarded my family a knitting pattern, today, since so many of them are craft freaks. A pattern for a knitted uterus. My aunt’s response was a “That’s interesting!” that you could almost see being said to the 8-year-old that brings in the dead squirrel.
That kinda shit makes my day.
My shoulder hurts like a sunnuvabitch. and there’s still not much you can really do in the way of diagnosing yourself. (The last time I tried to find any medical diagnosis online was when I was mugged and wondered if I had a concussion.) I thought maybe I just pulled a muscle in my sleep last night. But it’s not really a particular action-related thing, so much as a dull pain that fades in and out.
But since Sara decided to make fun of me, I’ve promised to haunt her if I die from this.
But unless the pain has been building up over a long time, or I recently shoulder-checked an Izuzu, I must be imagining it. Or so they say.
It would really suck to die before I had a chance to become senile and finally have an excuse for my actions.
You know…
There’s this image of “a dark and dreary night”, summoned up by an after hours rainfall. And yeah, I can see why in rural areas, where a nighttime sky normally filled with thousands of stars and a huge moon are suddenly obscured.* But every time the water falls from the sky, this five-lane road in below my window becomes a sort-of black mirror, casting a colorless brightness. When everything dries up, the asphalt becomes a black hole, just sucking up all the light you can throw at.
* Picture it: ten years ago (fuck!). While working at Camp Seneca Lake, I escaped one night to go to a Aerosmith concert in Syracuse. Being on the kitchen staff, they really didn’t care what we did so long as the bodies were cleaned up before morning. But at 10, they did lock the gate at the top of the road leading to camp. Returning after the concert at about 1 in the morning, without a flashlight, on an overcast night, in the middle of dense woods. I’ve been walking in the woods after dark for decades, (double fuck!) but it must have taken me an hour, and an entire pack of matches, to find my way down the pitch black road. If anything so much as a squirrel had run across my path, I would have no doubt taken off and run face first into a tree. Not a pretty sight to find in the morning.
Okay… so maybe that’s only interesting to me.
I was very easy to amuse that summer. It was the worst job I ever had. Two years before there had been a child abuse scandal, so everyone was still overly cautious. Several members of the kitchen staff were in prison just few months later. We were considered slightly better than hostile vagrants by the directors, (who amazingly are still there) and their staff.
Still gotta love the day my friend from college showed up to take me away for the weekend. This was a very white, very rich, and very conservative camp. And I was sitting on the porch with the Director when a fresh-off-the-line, glaringly-white sports car pulls up, and a beautiful girl from Hong Kong steps out. (Audrey Shum, if you’re out there.) Talk about being out of place. Best of all, she didn’t even notice. So I just waved to the Director whose mind had hit a roadblock, and got the hell out of dodge.
No doubt anyone brave enough to start reading this entry has long ago given up. But… you know… when I look back over my 500 plus entries, these little personal things are what stand out, not the links to articles, or quotes, or whatnot. So I don’t know what you’re here for… but this is me.