I've seen three movies in the past two days... mindless activities are good after a week of vacation. It kind of numbs you back into the real world.
The first movie I saw, and only one I saw at the movie theater, was M. Night Shamamahamalan's new movie, which was good, really good. It reminded me a bit of the Village though, in that... I don't know if I'm just expecting greatness, but I found myself criticizing as I was watching it, which I hate. But it was really good. And, like all of his movies it was just refreshingly different from all the others. All in all though, it walked a strange line between a scary movie and a fairy tale... two categories that my brain has trouble blurring the lines between.
So then we get home and Netflix has two new movies for me. The first one I watched was Firewall, with Harrison Ford, which sucked. Maybe it was just that I should have been sleeping before work, but it sucked on every level. The thing that I found distracting, throughout the whole thing, was that the bad guy was just a bad guy. People should have some saving grace, some reason for me to care about them, something that makes them human. I don't buy into the whole idea that real people are evil. They should only exist in fairy tales.
But then today I saw a movie about an assassin, and it was marvelous. The Matador was just fun to watch. I liked the story, I liked the characters, and something that I notice a lot in movies that I like... I liked the colors. It makes me sound a stoner, I realize, but this was a movie with yellow walls, orange suits, white fabrics in dirty scenes... I love that stuff.
I guess I'm weird like that. It reminds me of a girl I met in college, Tara, who was really cool. After a few hours, maybe a few days, she was laughing at me, telling me I see the world differently than everybody else. She said I notice how things feel, textures and whatnot. Maybe it's just that I have a strong feminine side. I mean hell, Lady in the Water made me cry.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
Sealy Posturepedic Almost Ruined My Life
Driving.
The freedom of the roads, wind rushing through your hair, racing down the highway, what can be more American? The story I'm about to share takes place late on a Thursday night. I was driving I-64 through the Virginia countryside, without anybody around. Oh there may have been a few headlights in the distance, maybe a few tail lights too, but I was zooming along without much worry. Then I started catching up to this one set of tail lights that was going strangely slow. Then brakelights came on, so I figuratively scratched my head and kept driving, starting to think about changing lanes but as I was catching up, about 50 yards back, the brake lights started to slow the car down and they dove to the shoulder. I thought, hmmm, but then I thought, what the! as I was staring down a giant bed mattress tumbling towards me down the road.
Without thinking, the steering wheel, with my two hands attached to it, pulled left, the car followed, the steering wheel then pulled right, the car pointed that way, then the rear of the car started swinging and in blind fear, the steering wheel threw itself back and forth a bit and we were back on the road, now in the fast lane.
Up aways, we passed a pick-up truck with U-Haul in tow off to the side of the highway. The driver was standing back looking somewhat concerned at his cargo.
I feel like I could have died. My life flashed before my eyes. Man, I've had a lot of ice cream in my days. Thankfully, the rest of the drive went swimmingly, as mom would say.
The freedom of the roads, wind rushing through your hair, racing down the highway, what can be more American? The story I'm about to share takes place late on a Thursday night. I was driving I-64 through the Virginia countryside, without anybody around. Oh there may have been a few headlights in the distance, maybe a few tail lights too, but I was zooming along without much worry. Then I started catching up to this one set of tail lights that was going strangely slow. Then brakelights came on, so I figuratively scratched my head and kept driving, starting to think about changing lanes but as I was catching up, about 50 yards back, the brake lights started to slow the car down and they dove to the shoulder. I thought, hmmm, but then I thought, what the! as I was staring down a giant bed mattress tumbling towards me down the road.
Without thinking, the steering wheel, with my two hands attached to it, pulled left, the car followed, the steering wheel then pulled right, the car pointed that way, then the rear of the car started swinging and in blind fear, the steering wheel threw itself back and forth a bit and we were back on the road, now in the fast lane.
Up aways, we passed a pick-up truck with U-Haul in tow off to the side of the highway. The driver was standing back looking somewhat concerned at his cargo.
I feel like I could have died. My life flashed before my eyes. Man, I've had a lot of ice cream in my days. Thankfully, the rest of the drive went swimmingly, as mom would say.
There's a Revolution Afoot.
You can't beat the great game of skee ball.
Well, maybe if it were by the beach.
And maybe if it were free.
And gave out double tickets.
Maybe if the tickets, weren't actually tickets but instead cold, crisp dollar bills.
And the dollars were actually Euros, which are worth more than regular dollars.
But that would be a pain going to convert them, unless you were in Europe.
Europe has conversion places all over.
Maybe the Euros could be converted into shares of Berkshire Hathaway.
Or better yet, the next Berkshire Hathaway.
Or even better yet, happiness.
But money can't buy happiness.
So I don't play much skee ball anymore.
Nowadays I play the Dance Dance Revolution.
It's the new skee ball.
Well, maybe if it were by the beach.
And maybe if it were free.
And gave out double tickets.
Maybe if the tickets, weren't actually tickets but instead cold, crisp dollar bills.
And the dollars were actually Euros, which are worth more than regular dollars.
But that would be a pain going to convert them, unless you were in Europe.
Europe has conversion places all over.
Maybe the Euros could be converted into shares of Berkshire Hathaway.
Or better yet, the next Berkshire Hathaway.
Or even better yet, happiness.
But money can't buy happiness.
So I don't play much skee ball anymore.
Nowadays I play the Dance Dance Revolution.
It's the new skee ball.
The OBX
So yes, I'm back from the beach. I was lucky enough to get some time off work and go to the beach, the Outerbanks, NC.
Let me start off by saying that I'm not much of a souvenir type person. I don't have any real souvenirs. I remember a wooden bracelet that I got Tiff at the Bahamas that was presented to us as a gift... I was so confused when he started asking for money. There are a couple hideously stand-out-in-a-crowd T-shirts from Maine that I wear, or wore, but the one I wear the most was a gift. Maybe I just like gifts. There was a T-shirt from Maine that had a lobsterman, dressed in yellow holding a big red lobster that I wore all the time as a kid... I wore it on my first day of school, ever. I got it instead of an ice cream at Boothbay that day.
Anyways, enough about me... on to the Outerbanks. I'm not sure what it is about the Outerbanks, but it seems like you can find fans, proudly displaying their vacation-destination loyalty, wherever you go. That's right, OBX has become an oddly ubiquitous sign of where you are on the social ladder. It seems like without an OBX window sticker, or a dainty OBX bumper sticker, or emblazon on a sweater, cap, or at the very least, key chain, you're just not at the same level of haughty-taughty-ness. An OBX sticker, 'ooohhh-aaaahhh.'
It's true the OBX makes for great vacations, and great fun, great food, great times, great memories, ... maybe the OBX is just a symbol of greatness... similar to the Empire State Building and the Pyramids of Giza, but easier because it comes in sticker form... but I easily will resist ever sporting the OBX symbol. Maybe I'm just not that great after all.
Let me start off by saying that I'm not much of a souvenir type person. I don't have any real souvenirs. I remember a wooden bracelet that I got Tiff at the Bahamas that was presented to us as a gift... I was so confused when he started asking for money. There are a couple hideously stand-out-in-a-crowd T-shirts from Maine that I wear, or wore, but the one I wear the most was a gift. Maybe I just like gifts. There was a T-shirt from Maine that had a lobsterman, dressed in yellow holding a big red lobster that I wore all the time as a kid... I wore it on my first day of school, ever. I got it instead of an ice cream at Boothbay that day.
Anyways, enough about me... on to the Outerbanks. I'm not sure what it is about the Outerbanks, but it seems like you can find fans, proudly displaying their vacation-destination loyalty, wherever you go. That's right, OBX has become an oddly ubiquitous sign of where you are on the social ladder. It seems like without an OBX window sticker, or a dainty OBX bumper sticker, or emblazon on a sweater, cap, or at the very least, key chain, you're just not at the same level of haughty-taughty-ness. An OBX sticker, 'ooohhh-aaaahhh.'
It's true the OBX makes for great vacations, and great fun, great food, great times, great memories, ... maybe the OBX is just a symbol of greatness... similar to the Empire State Building and the Pyramids of Giza, but easier because it comes in sticker form... but I easily will resist ever sporting the OBX symbol. Maybe I'm just not that great after all.
Back from the Beach
The beach is great. I would hesitate to call myself a beach person - I can't swim, I drown easily; I don't tan, I burn easily, and as for playing in the sand... the sand is hot, I get hot easily - but I love it. I could hop in the waves all day long, waiting for the perfect wave to swim with and ride to shore... and then get tossed around by and thrown into the shallow beaches elbows first. That's what I like doing at least. I like going to the beach.
Some people like going to the beach, too. They like the beach air. They like the beach sun. But then, within feet of the actual beach, they would rather go to the pool. They wouldn't want to get sandy, or salty, or have to battle the wind. Or see everyone having fun.
I will never understand these people, or their websites.
Some people like going to the beach, too. They like the beach air. They like the beach sun. But then, within feet of the actual beach, they would rather go to the pool. They wouldn't want to get sandy, or salty, or have to battle the wind. Or see everyone having fun.
I will never understand these people, or their websites.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Friday, July 21, 2006
Picture Page
The last roll of film I developed was great.
It seems like every picture was a keeper; beautiful shots that captured the moment, every moment that surrounded the moment. The roll before that was great, too. It probably has five or six of my favorite pictures of all time on it, at least two of which are blown up and hanging on my wall.
The last roll of film I developed was three years ago.
Since then I've taken pictures. Oh yes, I've taken lots of pictures, but it seems like most fit into two categories that could be titled, "Just Goofin' Around with the Camera,"
It seems like every picture was a keeper; beautiful shots that captured the moment, every moment that surrounded the moment. The roll before that was great, too. It probably has five or six of my favorite pictures of all time on it, at least two of which are blown up and hanging on my wall.
The last roll of film I developed was three years ago.
Since then I've taken pictures. Oh yes, I've taken lots of pictures, but it seems like most fit into two categories that could be titled, "Just Goofin' Around with the Camera,"
and "Non-Photographer John's Attempts on Photography..."
which has some pictures I like, but... there are always five or six pictures that look more or less exactly the same, each improving slightly on the previous one, so it just feels like it takes away some of the achievement of having a great picture. Plus I just don't know how to take good pictures.
I would, however, like to buy a new camera, primarily because our current one is a digital dinosaur, Tricameratops... ? ... Tycamerasaurus Flash... while it seems silly to going back to paying five or six bucks just to see if you took any good pictures, it seems just as silly to take five or six pictures just to find the right shot.
Anyways, Tiff's Aunt Carrell is a great photographer, especially of things that I wouldn't think to stop and take pictures of.
And finally, without those two categories, there would probably be five or six pictures in the album other than Christmas, Birthday, Vacation, Christmas...
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Choose Your Words
Last week our fearless leader swore.
Let me jump to one of my favorite movies, About A Boy. There's something about it that I truly enjoy. There's one part where the guy the kid essentially if he is upset, which they both know he is because his mother attempted suicide. The kid says yeah a little bit, and Hugh Grant just says "fuck."
The point is, yes there is a time for curse words, and the Middle East right now probably defines how and gives reason for a whole slew of other choice words. But the President? In that context?
As someone who works with teenagers who want to be criminals and gangsters, I hear these words a lot, occasionally directed at me, and I've said more times than I wish to think "choose your words." (A reference to parents telling three-year-olds to "use your words.") What I have noticed though is that often the kids I see do not know how to express themselves without their curse words, and if they try, they stumble, stutter, and quickly choose silence. Bush is surely not the first president to get caught swearing, nor will he be the last, but by him using such words it further gives legitimacy to them. This should not be applauded or thought appropriate or commonplace.
As far as the statement, politically, I regret to say that I have no opinion, that I don't know, that I choose silence.
What [Israel] need[s] to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this shit and it's over.Some may take this with a sigh of relief, that our President is real, that he talks like real people, that he's not afraid to speak his mind. I however have some reservations, perhaps revealing my political leanings, though I have trouble seeing this as anything but being strongly conservative.
Let me jump to one of my favorite movies, About A Boy. There's something about it that I truly enjoy. There's one part where the guy the kid essentially if he is upset, which they both know he is because his mother attempted suicide. The kid says yeah a little bit, and Hugh Grant just says "fuck."
The point is, yes there is a time for curse words, and the Middle East right now probably defines how and gives reason for a whole slew of other choice words. But the President? In that context?
As someone who works with teenagers who want to be criminals and gangsters, I hear these words a lot, occasionally directed at me, and I've said more times than I wish to think "choose your words." (A reference to parents telling three-year-olds to "use your words.") What I have noticed though is that often the kids I see do not know how to express themselves without their curse words, and if they try, they stumble, stutter, and quickly choose silence. Bush is surely not the first president to get caught swearing, nor will he be the last, but by him using such words it further gives legitimacy to them. This should not be applauded or thought appropriate or commonplace.
As far as the statement, politically, I regret to say that I have no opinion, that I don't know, that I choose silence.
The Rumor Mill
Lately I feel as though I have been an important cog in some rumors at work. Work is a giant pit of swarming rumors from all directions. While I have not, to my knowledge, helped create any rumors, I definitely have passed them along. The thing is, I love rumors... I love hearing them, sharing them, knowing them... maybe it just makes me feel like I belong. Lately, I've started feeling bad for my part in rumors, so I'm attempting to swear off of them.
Plus I have a tendency to push responsibility on others when I'm not at fault but feel that I am, and take responsibility when I'm not at fault. I'm not sure what I do when I know I'm at fault, but I'm guessing it's not pretty. Bottom line is, suddenly I'm picking up on some major character flaws that I want to change. Easier said than done though. Wish me luck.
I also want to be the stand-up guy who isn't afraid to stand up for what is right, and stand up for other people. I think that would be good. I'm in a thoughtful mood right now.
Plus I have a tendency to push responsibility on others when I'm not at fault but feel that I am, and take responsibility when I'm not at fault. I'm not sure what I do when I know I'm at fault, but I'm guessing it's not pretty. Bottom line is, suddenly I'm picking up on some major character flaws that I want to change. Easier said than done though. Wish me luck.
I also want to be the stand-up guy who isn't afraid to stand up for what is right, and stand up for other people. I think that would be good. I'm in a thoughtful mood right now.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Buying Used
So Amazon has given it's customers the option to buy products used for quite awhile now. I remember a few years ago my brother-in-law putting Sting's autobiography up for sale the day after Christmas... I'm not sure how much he sold it for, but you can now get it for 33 cents used.
I recently spent a total of 24 dollars on three CD's, this one I'm still waiting on, with just about half of that total being shipping costs. All of them are, as far as I can tell, perfect condition. So that's eight dollars a CD; it makes me wonder how, first off, the musicians, or authors are making money, but more importantly, how a place like Tower can survive charging 16 bucks for the same CD.
It seems times like times, they are a-changin'.
I recently spent a total of 24 dollars on three CD's, this one I'm still waiting on, with just about half of that total being shipping costs. All of them are, as far as I can tell, perfect condition. So that's eight dollars a CD; it makes me wonder how, first off, the musicians, or authors are making money, but more importantly, how a place like Tower can survive charging 16 bucks for the same CD.
It seems times like times, they are a-changin'.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Peachy
I'm experimenting with peach pits.
My ultimate goal is a bonsai'ed peachtree, partially in honor of my hometown, near Atlanta, Georgia, the Peach State, where the streets are either Peachtree something-or-other or MLK something-or-other (and I'm not up to bonsai'ing Noble prize winners just yet). The larger reason is, well... why not? It sounds like fun, and Tiff just got a bunch of peaches so it makes sense. Here's the potted plant, or well, pit:
It's not suppose to grow until after the last hard freeze, so it may look like this for awhile, but I'll try to have frequent updates.
Peaches, by the way, are pretty tasty... and fuzzily friendly too! That's a far cry from the disgusting lifesaver-flavor peach.
New Feature
So I got a tip jar on my sidebar the other day. Isn't she a beaut? I now join the ranks of street peddlars and subway troubadours, rattling loose change in my PayPal button. I wish I could put a picture of a tin can there instead and have it rattle around when you scroll over it, or a guitar case that opens up. As it is, I could only choose from a PayPal button and and a button that says "MAKE A DONATION," which I liked but I don't have anything to donate to... it's more like the John Duffy wants more money fund.
Anyways, I don't expect any money... hell, I don't expect to be read, heard, or enjoyed... but hopefully this will encourage the quality writing, in short two paragragh spurts, that I've been swinging blindly at.
The next step in selling out: advertising. That's right! Adsense, baby, Adsense. That's for another day though.
Anyways, I don't expect any money... hell, I don't expect to be read, heard, or enjoyed... but hopefully this will encourage the quality writing, in short two paragragh spurts, that I've been swinging blindly at.
The next step in selling out: advertising. That's right! Adsense, baby, Adsense. That's for another day though.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Moisturize Your Meatloaf
Ice cubes in meatloaf may sound silly to most cooks (and eaters) out there, but reliable sources told me it was a good idea. I was led to believe that it would add moisture to your meatloaf, thus making it succulent and delicious. After trying this, I will agree that it added moisture, lots of it. It also made four large craters where the ice cubes were placed, all of which held standing water. Standing water in my cooking meatloaf is something that I had never experienced before and neither is draining my meatloaf, which I did by tilting it on it's side. But the craters quickly refilled, even after several drains, so I turned to a sure-fire solution that I'll admit I use frequently - I called Mom. I usually only do this when my girlfriend has thrown her hands up in disbelief, rolling her eyes and calling me names, and thankfully, yet another call home proved successful. My Mom, through much laughter, assured me that it should taste fine and if not, to "enjoy your cream of meatloaf." And I did, it was delicious, albeit no more moist than normal.
Oh, my reliable sources... hmmm... I think I heard it on a sports show to put an ice cube in hamburgers... hmmm... I'll say it's about a fifty-fifty chance that I did not make it up. I like those odds.
Oh, my reliable sources... hmmm... I think I heard it on a sports show to put an ice cube in hamburgers... hmmm... I'll say it's about a fifty-fifty chance that I did not make it up. I like those odds.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Pop Culture
This weekend, I house sat for someone who, like everyone else, has cable TV, something that I've been without for two and a half years now. Oh, it's not for lack of want that I don't have cable, with it's 200 magical channels of crystal clear perfection, it's just, well, something I haven't quite gotten around to.
But after this weekend I'm almost relieved that I do not have this access... this power to see every angle of... whatever. Of the things I watched, there were way too many episodes of Cheyenne, a reality show on MTV about a fifteen year old who is trying to break into the music industry. These shows just suck you in and leave you in a comatose trance; and with the marathon format, you're left trying to leave every half hour but you just can't because... well, they tell you what's going to happen in the next thirty minutes. It's very backwards, but come this Tuesday at 9:30 or whenever, I'm going to be missing out on Cheyenne singing onstage with Sheryl Crow!.. and the drama of nerves and anxiety! How can I miss that?
Another show I saw, and saw and saw, was a late night marathon called Pants Off Dance Off, where they play videos and someone, usually ugly, strips there clothes off down to their underwear. Very strange but, again, oddly captivating. I watched it hoping there would be someone mildly attractive. Then I went to bed some 90 minutes later, depressed.
I did see Disney's Hercules, which I liked. I never really liked it before but it got me wanting to stop watching TV. Mainly wanting to make pots. Actually paint pots. And it got me thinking about life in general... but I'll leave that for another post.
Lastly, I got to see the Braves game on Friday night... a four hour nightmare of a game with a happy ending, so I can't say the cable TV is all evil. But with everybody watching TV with all the commercials, all the shows, and all the people on all the shows and commercials all the same, and all very uninteresting, it's a wonder there's anything interesting left in the world nowadays... that we haven't all started sounding, looking, and thinking alike, or have we?
I'm not sure if that makes sense but I'm going to go ahead and be done with this post.
But after this weekend I'm almost relieved that I do not have this access... this power to see every angle of... whatever. Of the things I watched, there were way too many episodes of Cheyenne, a reality show on MTV about a fifteen year old who is trying to break into the music industry. These shows just suck you in and leave you in a comatose trance; and with the marathon format, you're left trying to leave every half hour but you just can't because... well, they tell you what's going to happen in the next thirty minutes. It's very backwards, but come this Tuesday at 9:30 or whenever, I'm going to be missing out on Cheyenne singing onstage with Sheryl Crow!.. and the drama of nerves and anxiety! How can I miss that?
Another show I saw, and saw and saw, was a late night marathon called Pants Off Dance Off, where they play videos and someone, usually ugly, strips there clothes off down to their underwear. Very strange but, again, oddly captivating. I watched it hoping there would be someone mildly attractive. Then I went to bed some 90 minutes later, depressed.
I did see Disney's Hercules, which I liked. I never really liked it before but it got me wanting to stop watching TV. Mainly wanting to make pots. Actually paint pots. And it got me thinking about life in general... but I'll leave that for another post.
Lastly, I got to see the Braves game on Friday night... a four hour nightmare of a game with a happy ending, so I can't say the cable TV is all evil. But with everybody watching TV with all the commercials, all the shows, and all the people on all the shows and commercials all the same, and all very uninteresting, it's a wonder there's anything interesting left in the world nowadays... that we haven't all started sounding, looking, and thinking alike, or have we?
I'm not sure if that makes sense but I'm going to go ahead and be done with this post.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Last Night
Right now, I work the overnights at a juvenile shelter, making sure everyone is asleep, so I'm afforded quite a bit of free time. So I picked up a book lying around and started reading it the other day. The Pictures of Hollis Woods, I believe that's the title. It's written for young adults, I'd say zeroing in on the 12-15 range. I mention it because it was a pretty good book. By the end I was riding the emotional rollercoaster of the characters.
About an hour later, I was looking for something to do when I found Killer Angels, which I've been wanting to read... I liked that same author's book about the Revoutionary War, Rise to Rebellion... but I'll tell you, after reading a book written for sixth graders, I was struggling just with the first few pages. I'm sure the fact that it was 5 in the morning had nothing to do with it, but I may have to slowly work back up to big word books... when does the next Harry Potter come out?
I am excited about Killer Angels though. I know it's all about Gettysburg, but I live in Manassas, VA and know practically nothing about the Civil War, so I'm hoping for a little Civil War 101. Although, I'll admit that of all the cool stuff about history, I have very little interest in the Civil War... wars in general in fact.
I'm down with hippies... make love not war.
About an hour later, I was looking for something to do when I found Killer Angels, which I've been wanting to read... I liked that same author's book about the Revoutionary War, Rise to Rebellion... but I'll tell you, after reading a book written for sixth graders, I was struggling just with the first few pages. I'm sure the fact that it was 5 in the morning had nothing to do with it, but I may have to slowly work back up to big word books... when does the next Harry Potter come out?
I am excited about Killer Angels though. I know it's all about Gettysburg, but I live in Manassas, VA and know practically nothing about the Civil War, so I'm hoping for a little Civil War 101. Although, I'll admit that of all the cool stuff about history, I have very little interest in the Civil War... wars in general in fact.
I'm down with hippies... make love not war.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
County Surplus
Today I went with my girlfriend to a county surplus sale. It's a monthly thing here in Prince William County, but I just learned about it. They had some scary looking funiture, but I've never seen computers listed for 80 bucks before... nice computers too! They were Dell's! They were black... a sure sign that they are not older than a few years. I came close to getting one even though I don't need one... the guy then tried the 2-for-1 sales pitch. How could I resist that? 80 bucks for TWO computers!!
But then I got to thinking... if I don't need one computer...
But then I got to thinking... if I don't need one computer...
Girlfriend
My girlfriend's blog is linked on the side there... it's all about her pet project/full-time job which has taken over giant swaths of floor space of my apartment and comes in the form of a website, SevenSparks, also linked at the side. Everyone should check it out, and check it out often; it is the product of a perfectionist so it is an ever-evolving, ever-improving websites. Plus the cards and pictures are beautiful. I think she's on the doorstep of fame and fortune.
I'm going to figure out how pictures work at some point, not right now though.
I'm going to figure out how pictures work at some point, not right now though.
Interesting
There's two ways to say this word. I unknowingly say it like Jimmy Stewart - four syllables, no T. Isn't that inneresting? However, interest is only two syllables.
One year later
Alright, alright, alright...
So I'm going to try and breathe life into this thing one last time. Inspired by my girlfriend, who just started her own blog (again) I think the time is right for a revival. A reunion tour if you will. And this time around, hopefully I'll stick with it.
My job has progressed to allow me some free time (shhh...) so again I should have some opportunity to put my thoughts together, and search the internet... I have become a loyal reader of DamnInteresting.com. I don't plan on being that interesting, but maybe with a little luck, who knows?
So real quick, the blog didn't survive last year... the notebook is floating around lost somewhere gathering dust... and everything I've written in the past year has started with "whatever happened to...." So here's to writing, about anything, anything at all. Me, my girlfriend, politics, music, life, the world, Abe Vagoda... it's all fair game. Wish me luck.
So I'm going to try and breathe life into this thing one last time. Inspired by my girlfriend, who just started her own blog (again) I think the time is right for a revival. A reunion tour if you will. And this time around, hopefully I'll stick with it.
My job has progressed to allow me some free time (shhh...) so again I should have some opportunity to put my thoughts together, and search the internet... I have become a loyal reader of DamnInteresting.com. I don't plan on being that interesting, but maybe with a little luck, who knows?
So real quick, the blog didn't survive last year... the notebook is floating around lost somewhere gathering dust... and everything I've written in the past year has started with "whatever happened to...." So here's to writing, about anything, anything at all. Me, my girlfriend, politics, music, life, the world, Abe Vagoda... it's all fair game. Wish me luck.
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