Manny or No Manny?: "I wonder: Should Manny Ramirez stay in Boston? He is one of the finest hitters we have ever had and has never had a bad year, except for perhaps last year when he hit .292. However, I am tired of his constantly wanting to be traded to another team. It pisses me off. I think that he wants to stay, keep him, but only if he is going to commit."
This is from Your Name Goes Here
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Cretinizing Baguette
This is where life began, back in Geocities, in Yahoo. Too bad I never kept a copy of the first version in Geocities. What would have been even cooler is if I could put my hands on my very first concept for etail "Stupid Shit, CHEAP!"
Basically, I was going to have it be like Ebay, except there was no Ebay back then. The only difference would be that people would sell each other stupid stuff, cheap, just for the fuck of it... not because they were really trying to make serious money. I saw it as a Dadaist gesture.
I guess I underestimated people's desire to make money. Or I overestimated people's desire to make Dadaist expressions.
Yeah, probably both of those.
Anyway, Ebay seems to be a pretty good idea, if you're into that sort of thing.
Basically, I was going to have it be like Ebay, except there was no Ebay back then. The only difference would be that people would sell each other stupid stuff, cheap, just for the fuck of it... not because they were really trying to make serious money. I saw it as a Dadaist gesture.
I guess I underestimated people's desire to make money. Or I overestimated people's desire to make Dadaist expressions.
Yeah, probably both of those.
Anyway, Ebay seems to be a pretty good idea, if you're into that sort of thing.
It's fun to lie. Sometimes it leads you to where you're supposed to go.
The Garbage Diaries: "The other day, I was in a bad mood. It seemed like maybe I should find
another occupation, and I browsed the Help Wanted Ads for a while, but
it just made my mood more... BADDER."
another occupation, and I browsed the Help Wanted Ads for a while, but
it just made my mood more... BADDER."
The Garbage Diaries: This is where I was at three years ago.
The Garbage Diaries: "self-evacuating vacuoles of the cerebrum. the mind excretes what it
cannot use; this is how time and space continue to exist. if we needed
these things, we would have kept them in mind. physical reality is what
is left over from a prior existence. we wake up in the catlitter box of
our own device."
cannot use; this is how time and space continue to exist. if we needed
these things, we would have kept them in mind. physical reality is what
is left over from a prior existence. we wake up in the catlitter box of
our own device."
Monday, November 21, 2005
By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.
Wind or something more than wind
clatters ladder to the ground, sings doom songs in the trees
and branches of my nerves.
The wind or something in the wind--
It wants in or wants me out,
paws the house with curlicues and eddies,
tests each window by my bed,
whispers promises and when that fails
to open window to its kingdom of the air,
it speaks in lower tones
of places more empty and more vast.
At last I do go out, to check on the ladder
to make sure the noise is what I thought it was,
not something other than the wind
for such things as this need looking after--
though once I would have slept on unaware
of wind or ladders or what the wind brings or takes,
now I am tasked with such, for it must be done.
On the dark side of the house,
the ladder lays in grass and shadow.
A lucky thing when something is the way you thought,
and not a way beyond your thought and mind's small compass.
Even so, something moving in the grass startles;
my shadow cast in thin starlight.
How funny! though the darkness or the wind plays tricks
on balance and perception
and every step seems going downward.
clatters ladder to the ground, sings doom songs in the trees
and branches of my nerves.
The wind or something in the wind--
It wants in or wants me out,
paws the house with curlicues and eddies,
tests each window by my bed,
whispers promises and when that fails
to open window to its kingdom of the air,
it speaks in lower tones
of places more empty and more vast.
At last I do go out, to check on the ladder
to make sure the noise is what I thought it was,
not something other than the wind
for such things as this need looking after--
though once I would have slept on unaware
of wind or ladders or what the wind brings or takes,
now I am tasked with such, for it must be done.
On the dark side of the house,
the ladder lays in grass and shadow.
A lucky thing when something is the way you thought,
and not a way beyond your thought and mind's small compass.
Even so, something moving in the grass startles;
my shadow cast in thin starlight.
How funny! though the darkness or the wind plays tricks
on balance and perception
and every step seems going downward.
The Garbage Diaries
The Garbage Diaries excerpt from 2003: Here There Be Monsters
How funny that I clicked this at random after writing that last post.
How funny that I clicked this at random after writing that last post.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Shouldn't be doing this..
It's very late. There is barely any time left to sleep.
The woodpecker has lured me away again.
This is a random picture.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Log in, tune-out and get rich. Ebay is just the beginning.
Sometimes the things kids say acts as a catalyst for poetry. Yesterday, my six year old son asks, "Has World War Three started yet?"
What a question!
This morning, as I was reading The Oregonian, my son's question gave me a rather chilling perspective on the litany of horrors to which I insist on subscribing. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the terrorism in Jordan, the possibility of a bird flu pandemic: it all seemed to point to a strange new dark age in the world. The gap between rich and poor widens in the west as the middle class erodes, jobs are outsourced, and new opportunity for wealth... or poverty... present themselves. With the surfeit of more and more computing power for less and less cost, it seems the only sensible thing to do is log in, tune-out (i.e., all the doom and gloom speech) and get rich. When the leadership of the country reward capital-owners, it's time to get jiggy with it and do the capitalist dance. Maybe everybody should stop being so obsessed with jobs. Maybe people should focus more on making money and creating wealth. I really believe that the huge increase in server capacity, processing power and proliferation of open-source coding is going to create huge opportunities for the next generation of people who help empower the down-sized and the laid-off to concentrate on their strengths and increase the economy's flexibility, adaptibility and efficiency by an entire power!
Sunday, November 06, 2005
This is a test of the blogcast system.
Hmm. Made changes to the template, and now new posts are going below old posts.
Doesn't get more Oregon thatn this.
Snapped this picture at the Oregon/California game this Saturday in Eugene. Three beers at half-time: $15
Rain suit from Fred Myers that someone had already worn and damaged and returned to the store as "new" : $18.99
48 degrees out with wind and rain at U of O for 3 hours... priceless.
Seriously, though, I don't think I've experienced anything remotely similar to this since I went to my last Dead show a million years ago.
Monday, October 31, 2005
toilet
amazing! I have definitive proof of jung's theory of the collective
unconscious.
the moment my ass touches the toilet seat, people suddenly decide that
they need call me.
if business is slow, I need only drop my trousers.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
dog bite
we are taking dad to er because robbie bit his hand yesterday, and
today it has gotten swollen.
Fwd: Sojourner
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: 5033100494@vzwpix.com
Date: Tue, 27 Sep 2005 23:10:09 -0400
Subject: Sojourner
To: evilwoodpecker@gmail.com
9/23/05
This message was sent using PIX-FLIX Messaging service from Verizon Wireless!
To learn how you can snap pictures with your wireless phone visit
www.verizonwireless.com/getitnow/getpix.
To learn how you can record videos with your wireless phone visit
www.verizonwireless.com/getitnow/getflix.
To play video messages sent to email, QuickTime 6.5 or higher is
required. Visit www.apple.com/quicktime/download to download the free
player or upgrade your existing QuickTime Player. Note: During the
download
process when asked to choose an installation type (Minimum,
Recommended or Custom), select Minimum for faster download.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Inputs and Outputs
Lately I've been thinking about life as a series of inputs and outputs.
What if state (health, finances, emotions) was nothing more than the sum of outputs?
Granted, this is a vast over-simplification. Our finances affect our emotions which affect our health, and the cause-effect arrow can point both ways simultaneously, or even in multiple directions.
Inputs: level of education, operating principles, beliefs, the watershed of all past decisions.
Outputs: Health, wealth and well-being.
Probably the biggest point of leverage in the whole system is at the level of core beliefs.
Maybe we should question where we got these beliefs.
Do they serve us in good stead?
For instance, I believe that owning a Mustang GT convertible would be a good thing. Why do I believe this?
Perhaps because my mother owned a 1969 Mustang convertible. Perhaps because I read enough favorable articles about it. Perhaps because I saw enough ads. Perhaps because it strikes me as the type of car that will eventually appreciate in value. (Depending on how many units in production for the year I buy.) Perhaps because I was driving behind one, and I liked the sound coming out of the tail pipes when the driver stepped on the gas. Perhaps because I just really like the combination of design and performance.
Plus, some things you just believe because you feel it from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. God exists. Mustangs are cool, especially the GT.
But maybe it's the ideas and beliefs we have about ourselves and our capabilities and limitations that ultimately have the most power over our realities. These are the big inputs, and what's weird is, we somehow put them into ourselves.
What if I believed that I had the power to be extremely well-organized?
What if state (health, finances, emotions) was nothing more than the sum of outputs?
Granted, this is a vast over-simplification. Our finances affect our emotions which affect our health, and the cause-effect arrow can point both ways simultaneously, or even in multiple directions.
Inputs: level of education, operating principles, beliefs, the watershed of all past decisions.
Outputs: Health, wealth and well-being.
Probably the biggest point of leverage in the whole system is at the level of core beliefs.
Maybe we should question where we got these beliefs.
Do they serve us in good stead?
For instance, I believe that owning a Mustang GT convertible would be a good thing. Why do I believe this?
Perhaps because my mother owned a 1969 Mustang convertible. Perhaps because I read enough favorable articles about it. Perhaps because I saw enough ads. Perhaps because it strikes me as the type of car that will eventually appreciate in value. (Depending on how many units in production for the year I buy.) Perhaps because I was driving behind one, and I liked the sound coming out of the tail pipes when the driver stepped on the gas. Perhaps because I just really like the combination of design and performance.
Plus, some things you just believe because you feel it from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. God exists. Mustangs are cool, especially the GT.
But maybe it's the ideas and beliefs we have about ourselves and our capabilities and limitations that ultimately have the most power over our realities. These are the big inputs, and what's weird is, we somehow put them into ourselves.
What if I believed that I had the power to be extremely well-organized?
Friday, September 09, 2005
this isnt the is
when shall pass this
shall overcomes might
want increases want
cause engenders strife
too much living brings on death
______________________________________________________
Click here to donate to the Hurricane Katrina relief effort.
http://store.yahoo.com/redcross-donate3/
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Time seems foreshortened lately.
Time seems foreshortened lately.
Living life by minutes, a constant stream of email and phone communication. The harder I try to stay on tip
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
The mysteries of the Internet
Migrated website to new server, and was astonished to see split-second propagation. But yes, there was the address, and there was the new site. Amazing.
Hours later, I type in some keywords, click on the link to the site. The old site has turned back up like a bad penny. WTF?
Nick wants to discover the joys of Internettery. It always starts out fun, but once you start spending serious money running your commercial site, it's more of a Kafkaeske struggle with Google, Yahoo, MSN et al.
Hours later, I type in some keywords, click on the link to the site. The old site has turned back up like a bad penny. WTF?
Nick wants to discover the joys of Internettery. It always starts out fun, but once you start spending serious money running your commercial site, it's more of a Kafkaeske struggle with Google, Yahoo, MSN et al.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Mars
Woke up with Mars. Too early, but I couldn't go back to sleep.
Last night, my mother called while I was putting out a fire. She sounded tearful to me as I hosed down the smoldering grill. We were talking about my son's birthday.
This morning, I felt compelled to go outside. I heard the owl call my name as a star flashed past. It reminded me of my dreams, delight and dread and equal portions.
Late summer is my favorite time of year, especially in the astronomical dawn, when no one is up but me, and the universe has yet to take the shape of its own imaginings.
Late summer is when we begin to make the turn away from the busy galactic hub and turn our phocus outward to more distant spaces.
Late summer is when I start writing "phocus" for "focus"; "heared", then "hered" then "herd" for "heard".
This early in the morning, my mind hooks thinks up in different ways.
As I tried to settle back to sleep, I thought of ants sleeping, their heads all bowed to the east. Even this wasn't enough. I thought of windjammers sailing across a martian desert, sprinting ahead of the planetary dust storms. I thought of lost chords vibrating in ten-dimensional space and time = me = u.
Somewhere, a zebra dips its head to drink. Somewhere, the lion, watching.
The other day, I suddenly felt the need to hear "One" by Creed. Naturally, we couldn't find it. I think it's been about five years since I knew where any of my music was.
That same day, in the Safewary parking lot, I saw this license plate: 1CREED.
Makes me think the universe is trying to talk to me using real images. God wants me to know something.
A child asked me why God didn't just talk to us. Good question.
God should get email or a phone.
God's phone!
"Thank you for calling God. All of our customer service representatives are currently helping other mortals. Your call is very important to us. If you know the extension number of the person you're trying to reach, you may enter it at any time. (heavenly hold music) Thank you for calling God. Did you know that you can find many answers at our website? www.god.org. Your call is very important to us..."
God's extension number would be an infinite number of digits, a mathematical description of the entire universe.
But every once in a while, God sends a message.
I think this isn't the first time Mars has woken me up, and it isn't the first time a meteor has shot past over my house, just as I was looking up.
Now I could sleep.
Last night, my mother called while I was putting out a fire. She sounded tearful to me as I hosed down the smoldering grill. We were talking about my son's birthday.
This morning, I felt compelled to go outside. I heard the owl call my name as a star flashed past. It reminded me of my dreams, delight and dread and equal portions.
Late summer is my favorite time of year, especially in the astronomical dawn, when no one is up but me, and the universe has yet to take the shape of its own imaginings.
Late summer is when we begin to make the turn away from the busy galactic hub and turn our phocus outward to more distant spaces.
Late summer is when I start writing "phocus" for "focus"; "heared", then "hered" then "herd" for "heard".
This early in the morning, my mind hooks thinks up in different ways.
As I tried to settle back to sleep, I thought of ants sleeping, their heads all bowed to the east. Even this wasn't enough. I thought of windjammers sailing across a martian desert, sprinting ahead of the planetary dust storms. I thought of lost chords vibrating in ten-dimensional space and time = me = u.
Somewhere, a zebra dips its head to drink. Somewhere, the lion, watching.
The other day, I suddenly felt the need to hear "One" by Creed. Naturally, we couldn't find it. I think it's been about five years since I knew where any of my music was.
That same day, in the Safewary parking lot, I saw this license plate: 1CREED.
Makes me think the universe is trying to talk to me using real images. God wants me to know something.
A child asked me why God didn't just talk to us. Good question.
God should get email or a phone.
God's phone!
"Thank you for calling God. All of our customer service representatives are currently helping other mortals. Your call is very important to us. If you know the extension number of the person you're trying to reach, you may enter it at any time. (heavenly hold music) Thank you for calling God. Did you know that you can find many answers at our website? www.god.org. Your call is very important to us..."
God's extension number would be an infinite number of digits, a mathematical description of the entire universe.
But every once in a while, God sends a message.
I think this isn't the first time Mars has woken me up, and it isn't the first time a meteor has shot past over my house, just as I was looking up.
Now I could sleep.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Bizzy
Sold more than 1400 ratchet wheel straps yesterday. Three more orders this morning. It was almost ten in the morning before I dropped H off at school. Phone rings every five minutes.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Greetings from Florida
Met Hank and Christa down at the AGA conference in Florida. We were going to see the shuttle lift off, but it must have broken or something.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Yet another lawsuit.
Brdar vs. Cottrell, Et. Al.| New Lawsuits: Wednesday, June 1
It just goes on and on. (This is the personal injury lawsuit against Cottrell.) Most reasonable people understand that quarter inch chain is safe when checked regularly and used properly. The issue is worker training and vehicle maintenance. They've been using quarter inch chain to tie down cars since they started making them. The problem of chain failure can be solved by adopting the following common-sense approaches:
Inspect your chains regularly, especially the ones on the bottom positions. If they've been dragged, replace them.
Find out the appropriate amount of torque to use to tighten the ratchets. Boydstun has a new tie-down bar that will actually show you when you're using too much force. There is plenty of information out there on the Internet on proper chain-tightening procedure.
Four chains to a vehicle. Always.
Or just use soft ties.
It just goes on and on. (This is the personal injury lawsuit against Cottrell.) Most reasonable people understand that quarter inch chain is safe when checked regularly and used properly. The issue is worker training and vehicle maintenance. They've been using quarter inch chain to tie down cars since they started making them. The problem of chain failure can be solved by adopting the following common-sense approaches:
Inspect your chains regularly, especially the ones on the bottom positions. If they've been dragged, replace them.
Find out the appropriate amount of torque to use to tighten the ratchets. Boydstun has a new tie-down bar that will actually show you when you're using too much force. There is plenty of information out there on the Internet on proper chain-tightening procedure.
Four chains to a vehicle. Always.
Or just use soft ties.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
yes
The answer is "yes, it is possible to update blog by phone." some of the page loads rather wonky. Trying to think of a way to load pictures to the blog. I've gotten used to the bloggerbot doing everything for me. Also, it is hard to imagine not being able to use mozilla firefox extension "just blog it". I will report more later. The next challenge will be loading the device with music.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Pipe Organs of Portland, Oregon, USA
Pipe Organs of Portland, Oregon, USA: "
"
I was showing Dave Aeschliman how to use Firefox, Hello and Blogger when I posted this to Evil Woodpecker.
"I was showing Dave Aeschliman how to use Firefox, Hello and Blogger when I posted this to Evil Woodpecker.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Friday, April 15, 2005
Time Distortions
First of all, I couldn't keep track of time all day. I was working feverishly on something that had something to do with the website launch today, though honestly, I can't recall precisely what it was. At one point I looked up and it was 11:30 AM. The next thing I knew, it was 3:30 PM, and I was calculating how much time it would take to go over and pick up my son at school to get him back in time for his baseball game, and then calculating the probability of whether or not he would actually be there to be picked up, since I never got confirmation from him regarding this plan. (I HATE it when information is relayed via third party; the signal to noise ratio deteriorates by at least a POWER.) My wife said the night before, "Nick wants to be picked up at school at 3:50 PM so he will have plenty of time to get to practice, so he won't be late, so he won't be placed lower in the batting order."
As it turned out, I had just enough brains actually working in my head to call the school as I drove there, to see if they could MAKE sure he would be there. The secretary who I talked with said, "Yes, there should be enough time to get the message to him."[before the bell rang, I assumed, thus rendering this kind of student-runs-with-note-to-class or secretary-uses-classroom-intercom practically impossible.] As it turned out, he had not been planning on anyone picking him up, and he would have gotten on the bus had it not been for the secretary/student/intercom message.
Time, though.
We picked up his little brother at daycare, though Elder Brother didn't believe this would allow him enough time. I said time would be rather limited, as I had to get him to his game, get back to get dinner into Younger Brother, before shuttling him to HIS practice, from whence we would return to Elder Brother's game already in progress. Somewhere in this mix would be my wife, though I can't remember where.
So, in addition to feeling like I'd lost vast chunks of time during my working day, or perhaps had actually been abducted by space aliens or evil government agents and experienced "Missing Time", I had this weird need to be in two places at the same time. This need was dismissed by a rain cancellation by the two different coaches, and replaced with a need to go get pizza with wife. I knew she'd show up again in this story.
She told me what kind of pizza to order on the phone, and so I ordered them, but I was rather fuzzy-headed while on the phone with the pizza person. I wasn't paying attention when they told me how long it would be before my pizzas were ready. I think I was distracted by the incredulous tone she used when I told her what I was REALLY going to pay because I had COUPONS.
"Coupons?!!" she asked.
"Yes, COUPONS."
I informed her that the real bill was actually going to be about $11.00 cheaper, and then she agreed and told me when my pizzas would be ready, but I had been abducted again, or something, because when my wife asked me when the pizzas would be ready, there was just this gray static where the relevant information should have been.
"About thirty minutes," I lied.
I realized this would give me enough time to give my father a quick call. Today is his birthday, and I forgot to get him a card, because I thought April 15th was next week, even though I had been planning for several weeks to go on an overnight trip with friends for April 15th, because it is my friend's wife's 40th birthday. Except that actually her birthday is on Saturday, and that's when we needed the babysitter.
This morning, I had a sinking feeling when I heard stuff on the news about tax day, because it made me realize that I had spaced sending my dad a card or present in time for his birthday. So anyway, during the hypothetical pizza baking time of thirty minutes, I figured I could get a quick call in to my dad, so I at least wouldn't totally forget him.
Forty-five minutes later, my wife was hollering up the stairs at me about the pizzas that were ready fifteen minutes ago, so I hurriedly signed off with my parents and got ready to head to Pietro's, home of incredulous pizza people.
"Where have you been?" I asked, noting my wife had on her coat.
"I've been out on the porch with Younger Son, where you sent us almost an hour ago."
"Oh." I said, which seemed appropriate.
Younger son had developed a nastier version of his ever-present cough, so in my medical wisdom, I advised him to stand on the porch and breathe cool, moist air.
It hadn't helped much, and his cough seemed to be getting worse, if anything. There was debate over whether we would eat the Incredulous Pizza at Pietro's or bring them back. Then we did go, but brought them back. At dinner, Younger Son coughed worse and worse, prompting us to call a doctor who told us to bring him to the ER. From time to time he has bouts of what appear to be asthma, but turn out to be something more benign. It is still scary at the time for him and us.
At the ER, I gave him my watch to hold, because for some reason, I thought it would give comfort to him, and it actually seemed to. We did the usual hospital stuff, and when the doctor announced that he didn't have the dreaded asthma, we were all relieved. This doctor even gave us tons of prescriptions so Younger Son could get over this whatever-it-is, including Albuterol for the Nebulizer, which is totally great medicine for children who have almost-Asthma.
Because wife was tired, I dropped prescription off at the drug store, where they told me it would be about twenty to thirty minutes before they could get it filled.
I said, "So, if I come back at ten o'clock, you'll have everything ready?" (This pharmacy was famous in our family for being very slow about things.)
"Definitely," said the young man.
So we went home, which usually takes about ten minutes. Once I got home, I hung around for what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes, drinking water, taking Vitamin C, talking to my wife, Younger Son, Elder Son, etc., etc, then I said: "Well, I better get back to pick up the medicine, " because I figured they would have it ready just as I arrived.
See, 7-10 minute ride from drug store; 10-15 minutes at home; 7-10 minute ride back to the store. Since I'd left the drug store at 9:30 PM, this meant that they would be done, assuming they weren't lying, or space aliens or evil government agents didn't abduct me again as they had earlier in the day. I should point out that when I left, I didn't bother looking at my watch, because I am very good (usually) at feeling what time it is. I knew how long it took us to get home. I knew how long I'd spent at home. I knew how long it would take me to get back to the drug store.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I arrived at the drug store, and saw on my car clock that it was 9:40 PM. How weird, I thought, adjusting my car clock's time. I started worrying there might be a problem with my car's electrical system. Maybe my battery was running down or something, though, if it couldn't run a digital clock correctly, how in hell could it turn over the starter and crank a 4.6 liter V8 engine. My watch said it was seven minutes past ten, so I hurried into the store to grab my kid his drugs.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have your medication ready yet," said the lady behind the counter, "We're running behind tonight."
Typical, I thought. I went outside to phone my wife.
"They're doing it again. Prescription isn't ready."
"Well, it's only five minutes 'til ten. Give them another five minutes," said my wife.
It was then that I realized what happened. My five year old had played with my watch and adjusted the time forward. It explained everything, except why my car's clock said 9:40 when five minutes later my wife said it was 9:55.
The only logical explanation is that my car's clock had been running ten minutes behind. I knew my wife's clock was accurate within the minute, because I synchronized one of my other watches with the atomic clock, and then noted that my cell phone clock (which I didn't bother to look at for some reason during all of this) is synched to the phone company, and it is within 15 seconds of the atomic clock. I know, because I did all this last week. While I was doing it, I noticed my wife's clock had the same time as my cell phone, so it was accurate, too.
What's weird, is I recently adjusted my clock's time because of daylight savings time. I did this two wednesdays ago. But this was before I synched several of my wrist watches to the atomic clock. Also, the one I was wearing was a wind-up that is impossible to synch to the second.
I experience another type of time distortion when I go to the local Safeway. Since they remodeled, I get extremely confused sometimes if I am tired and not thinking clearly. The store resembles the Hannaford Shop & Save we used to shop at in New Hampshire. So, in certain circumstances, I may actually think I am back in New Hampshire for a few seconds, before I realize that I am three thousand miles away. Wal-Mart can do that, too, which is why I try not to go to Wal-Mart or Safeway. The time distortion here is on an order of years, because it has been close to four years since we lived back in NH.
When I was younger, I had an idea that if you went into any JJ Newberry's in the country, you could come back out in Laconia, NH if you concentrated. I viewed them as portals. This kind of travel is no longer possible since Newberry's went out of business. There used to be a Newberry's in Laconia. It was my favorite store as a kid, because they had a lunch counter where you could get grilled cheese and chocolate milk shakes if you pestered your parents a little, but were good the rest of the time.
It is now 11:33 PM and I swear to God I hear birds singing outside the way they do in the morning. Something is going on here.
When I got home, I noticed the antique clock in the living room had stopped, so I opened the door to wind it up. The springs didn't need winding. I worried something might be going wrong with the mechanism. It is very old, after all. Now I hear it ticking away steadily.
I don't think there is anything wrong with the antique clock mechanism or the electrical current in my car clock or in my old wind-up wrist-watch.
There's something wrong with time tonight.
As it turned out, I had just enough brains actually working in my head to call the school as I drove there, to see if they could MAKE sure he would be there. The secretary who I talked with said, "Yes, there should be enough time to get the message to him."[before the bell rang, I assumed, thus rendering this kind of student-runs-with-note-to-class or secretary-uses-classroom-intercom practically impossible.] As it turned out, he had not been planning on anyone picking him up, and he would have gotten on the bus had it not been for the secretary/student/intercom message.
Time, though.
We picked up his little brother at daycare, though Elder Brother didn't believe this would allow him enough time. I said time would be rather limited, as I had to get him to his game, get back to get dinner into Younger Brother, before shuttling him to HIS practice, from whence we would return to Elder Brother's game already in progress. Somewhere in this mix would be my wife, though I can't remember where.
So, in addition to feeling like I'd lost vast chunks of time during my working day, or perhaps had actually been abducted by space aliens or evil government agents and experienced "Missing Time", I had this weird need to be in two places at the same time. This need was dismissed by a rain cancellation by the two different coaches, and replaced with a need to go get pizza with wife. I knew she'd show up again in this story.
She told me what kind of pizza to order on the phone, and so I ordered them, but I was rather fuzzy-headed while on the phone with the pizza person. I wasn't paying attention when they told me how long it would be before my pizzas were ready. I think I was distracted by the incredulous tone she used when I told her what I was REALLY going to pay because I had COUPONS.
"Coupons?!!" she asked.
"Yes, COUPONS."
I informed her that the real bill was actually going to be about $11.00 cheaper, and then she agreed and told me when my pizzas would be ready, but I had been abducted again, or something, because when my wife asked me when the pizzas would be ready, there was just this gray static where the relevant information should have been.
"About thirty minutes," I lied.
I realized this would give me enough time to give my father a quick call. Today is his birthday, and I forgot to get him a card, because I thought April 15th was next week, even though I had been planning for several weeks to go on an overnight trip with friends for April 15th, because it is my friend's wife's 40th birthday. Except that actually her birthday is on Saturday, and that's when we needed the babysitter.
This morning, I had a sinking feeling when I heard stuff on the news about tax day, because it made me realize that I had spaced sending my dad a card or present in time for his birthday. So anyway, during the hypothetical pizza baking time of thirty minutes, I figured I could get a quick call in to my dad, so I at least wouldn't totally forget him.
Forty-five minutes later, my wife was hollering up the stairs at me about the pizzas that were ready fifteen minutes ago, so I hurriedly signed off with my parents and got ready to head to Pietro's, home of incredulous pizza people.
"Where have you been?" I asked, noting my wife had on her coat.
"I've been out on the porch with Younger Son, where you sent us almost an hour ago."
"Oh." I said, which seemed appropriate.
Younger son had developed a nastier version of his ever-present cough, so in my medical wisdom, I advised him to stand on the porch and breathe cool, moist air.
It hadn't helped much, and his cough seemed to be getting worse, if anything. There was debate over whether we would eat the Incredulous Pizza at Pietro's or bring them back. Then we did go, but brought them back. At dinner, Younger Son coughed worse and worse, prompting us to call a doctor who told us to bring him to the ER. From time to time he has bouts of what appear to be asthma, but turn out to be something more benign. It is still scary at the time for him and us.
At the ER, I gave him my watch to hold, because for some reason, I thought it would give comfort to him, and it actually seemed to. We did the usual hospital stuff, and when the doctor announced that he didn't have the dreaded asthma, we were all relieved. This doctor even gave us tons of prescriptions so Younger Son could get over this whatever-it-is, including Albuterol for the Nebulizer, which is totally great medicine for children who have almost-Asthma.
Because wife was tired, I dropped prescription off at the drug store, where they told me it would be about twenty to thirty minutes before they could get it filled.
I said, "So, if I come back at ten o'clock, you'll have everything ready?" (This pharmacy was famous in our family for being very slow about things.)
"Definitely," said the young man.
So we went home, which usually takes about ten minutes. Once I got home, I hung around for what seemed like ten or fifteen minutes, drinking water, taking Vitamin C, talking to my wife, Younger Son, Elder Son, etc., etc, then I said: "Well, I better get back to pick up the medicine, " because I figured they would have it ready just as I arrived.
See, 7-10 minute ride from drug store; 10-15 minutes at home; 7-10 minute ride back to the store. Since I'd left the drug store at 9:30 PM, this meant that they would be done, assuming they weren't lying, or space aliens or evil government agents didn't abduct me again as they had earlier in the day. I should point out that when I left, I didn't bother looking at my watch, because I am very good (usually) at feeling what time it is. I knew how long it took us to get home. I knew how long I'd spent at home. I knew how long it would take me to get back to the drug store.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I arrived at the drug store, and saw on my car clock that it was 9:40 PM. How weird, I thought, adjusting my car clock's time. I started worrying there might be a problem with my car's electrical system. Maybe my battery was running down or something, though, if it couldn't run a digital clock correctly, how in hell could it turn over the starter and crank a 4.6 liter V8 engine. My watch said it was seven minutes past ten, so I hurried into the store to grab my kid his drugs.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have your medication ready yet," said the lady behind the counter, "We're running behind tonight."
Typical, I thought. I went outside to phone my wife.
"They're doing it again. Prescription isn't ready."
"Well, it's only five minutes 'til ten. Give them another five minutes," said my wife.
It was then that I realized what happened. My five year old had played with my watch and adjusted the time forward. It explained everything, except why my car's clock said 9:40 when five minutes later my wife said it was 9:55.
The only logical explanation is that my car's clock had been running ten minutes behind. I knew my wife's clock was accurate within the minute, because I synchronized one of my other watches with the atomic clock, and then noted that my cell phone clock (which I didn't bother to look at for some reason during all of this) is synched to the phone company, and it is within 15 seconds of the atomic clock. I know, because I did all this last week. While I was doing it, I noticed my wife's clock had the same time as my cell phone, so it was accurate, too.
What's weird, is I recently adjusted my clock's time because of daylight savings time. I did this two wednesdays ago. But this was before I synched several of my wrist watches to the atomic clock. Also, the one I was wearing was a wind-up that is impossible to synch to the second.
I experience another type of time distortion when I go to the local Safeway. Since they remodeled, I get extremely confused sometimes if I am tired and not thinking clearly. The store resembles the Hannaford Shop & Save we used to shop at in New Hampshire. So, in certain circumstances, I may actually think I am back in New Hampshire for a few seconds, before I realize that I am three thousand miles away. Wal-Mart can do that, too, which is why I try not to go to Wal-Mart or Safeway. The time distortion here is on an order of years, because it has been close to four years since we lived back in NH.
When I was younger, I had an idea that if you went into any JJ Newberry's in the country, you could come back out in Laconia, NH if you concentrated. I viewed them as portals. This kind of travel is no longer possible since Newberry's went out of business. There used to be a Newberry's in Laconia. It was my favorite store as a kid, because they had a lunch counter where you could get grilled cheese and chocolate milk shakes if you pestered your parents a little, but were good the rest of the time.
It is now 11:33 PM and I swear to God I hear birds singing outside the way they do in the morning. Something is going on here.
When I got home, I noticed the antique clock in the living room had stopped, so I opened the door to wind it up. The springs didn't need winding. I worried something might be going wrong with the mechanism. It is very old, after all. Now I hear it ticking away steadily.
I don't think there is anything wrong with the antique clock mechanism or the electrical current in my car clock or in my old wind-up wrist-watch.
There's something wrong with time tonight.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Monday, April 04, 2005
Definitive Proof of Communication Between Parallel Universes
OK. I tried scanning the cartoons in, but that didn't work. Tried loading them directly from the website via Picasa, but that program only works with JPEGS, not GIFS. So I used Mozilla to "Blog" the websites of the April 1, 2005 cartoons that mysteriously had similar thematic content: the characters were using a Ouija board to communicate with spirits and insult each other. What are the odds of this? Either the cartoonists got together on this as an April Fool's joke, or there really is something to Carl Jung's theory of the universal unconscious. To see what I'm talking about, go down to the previous two posts and read the comic strips.
Evidence of Communication Between Parallel Universes
Click these two links and read the comic strips. These were in the April 1st edition of The Oregonian.
http://www.comics.com/comics/getfuzzy/archive/getfuzzy-20050401.html
http://www.ucomics.com/foxtrot/2005/04/01/
http://www.comics.com/comics/getfuzzy/archive/getfuzzy-20050401.html
http://www.ucomics.com/foxtrot/2005/04/01/
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Friday, April 01, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
Benadryl
Couldn't sleep again, so I got up, popped fifty milligrams of Benadryl, then got on the computer to wait for it to kick in. Meanwhile, Nick's up from his side of the house.
"What are you doing up?" I ask.
"Came over to get some Benadryl. Why are you up?"
"Same."
My doctor frowns on using the big B as a sleep remedy. Says it suppresses histaminic function of the brain which is necessary for various things. I told him I suspected it disturbed the REM cycle of sleep, pushed more of it back toward morning. I dream like a bastard in the early morning.
Well. Maybe. I'll. Try. Sleepingnow.
"What are you doing up?" I ask.
"Came over to get some Benadryl. Why are you up?"
"Same."
My doctor frowns on using the big B as a sleep remedy. Says it suppresses histaminic function of the brain which is necessary for various things. I told him I suspected it disturbed the REM cycle of sleep, pushed more of it back toward morning. I dream like a bastard in the early morning.
Well. Maybe. I'll. Try. Sleepingnow.
Friday, March 25, 2005
The Symbol That Represents Itself
For some reason, I am thinking tonight of a dream I had several years ago.
This was a very vivid dream. I was with a group of people, and we were racing around this island, trying to get away from people who were chasing us. At the same time, we were hunting for signs or artifacts that would guide us on a quest. The people chasing us were trying to prevent us from finding whatever it was we were looking for. At one point, we had to slip through barbed wire, following a narrow path through the underbrush down a steep slope. We emerged from the dark undergrowth at the foot of a tall cliff by the sea. There was a large cavern under the cliff. Before us in the waves there stood a stone monument of some kind. As I gazed at the object that had just... appeared... somehow, I heard in my mind: "It and the image of itself are one."
In this dream, it was possible for a symbol of something and the thing-in-itself to be the same thing. It was this symbol, this marker we had been seeking, because everything started to change when we found it.
After this, I started to wake up, but just before I did, I recall being convinced that I had seen something that hinted at reality's purpose.
We understand that in literature and film, symbols may be used to represent other things. Upon awakening, it seemed possible to me that elements of reality itself could be attempts to convey meaning. Crazy as it sounds, I became half-convinced that parts of "objective reality" are really attempts of our own consciousness to understand something, to tell a story.
There could be certain place-markers in reality where the symbol refers to its own action. There could be elements of existence where the informational image is also an operational image. If this seems a bit murky, think of the DNA in the center of each of your cells. This DNA contains a complete informational image of you in entirety. Yet this DNA is also an operational image in that it also controls cellular function at a molecular level, prompting the production of proteins, the oxidation of sugar, etc.
It seems more likely that our consciousness has a selectivity principle at work whereby we happen to notice things in the external world that might function as symbol. For instance, on a day when I am goofing off, I might notice the bees working in the flowers, and be made aware of the difference between their diligent efforts and my own laziness.
Yet I still remember the powerful feeling I had at the end of that dream, when I realized that the symbol and the signified were one. I'm still searching for the symbol that represents itself. For some reason, it reminds me of what God said when somebody asked him for his name.
"I am that I am."
Many have translated this as "I am what I am." I think this is wrong. I think the first has a finer shade of meaning. There is an implication of necessity by using the word "that". In other words, God says something like this: "My being is so good that it recognizes how beneficial it is that it should exist for itself and for all, and thus it self-wills its goodness out of its own goodness."
Sounds like eternal, uncreated being to me.
Our being is in time, and thus subject to change and dissolution. That is the internal logic of this dream.
It is interesting to imagine characters in a dream asking questions of the dreamer.
Who are you? What are you? Why don't you answer me when I pray to you? Where are you? Do you even exist? Why do you let bad things happen? What happens when we die?
Aren't the creator and the created being necessarily linked? What happens when the character figures out that he's in a dream? What new possibilities arise?
Doesn't he have a new type of agency?
This was a very vivid dream. I was with a group of people, and we were racing around this island, trying to get away from people who were chasing us. At the same time, we were hunting for signs or artifacts that would guide us on a quest. The people chasing us were trying to prevent us from finding whatever it was we were looking for. At one point, we had to slip through barbed wire, following a narrow path through the underbrush down a steep slope. We emerged from the dark undergrowth at the foot of a tall cliff by the sea. There was a large cavern under the cliff. Before us in the waves there stood a stone monument of some kind. As I gazed at the object that had just... appeared... somehow, I heard in my mind: "It and the image of itself are one."
In this dream, it was possible for a symbol of something and the thing-in-itself to be the same thing. It was this symbol, this marker we had been seeking, because everything started to change when we found it.
After this, I started to wake up, but just before I did, I recall being convinced that I had seen something that hinted at reality's purpose.
We understand that in literature and film, symbols may be used to represent other things. Upon awakening, it seemed possible to me that elements of reality itself could be attempts to convey meaning. Crazy as it sounds, I became half-convinced that parts of "objective reality" are really attempts of our own consciousness to understand something, to tell a story.
There could be certain place-markers in reality where the symbol refers to its own action. There could be elements of existence where the informational image is also an operational image. If this seems a bit murky, think of the DNA in the center of each of your cells. This DNA contains a complete informational image of you in entirety. Yet this DNA is also an operational image in that it also controls cellular function at a molecular level, prompting the production of proteins, the oxidation of sugar, etc.
It seems more likely that our consciousness has a selectivity principle at work whereby we happen to notice things in the external world that might function as symbol. For instance, on a day when I am goofing off, I might notice the bees working in the flowers, and be made aware of the difference between their diligent efforts and my own laziness.
Yet I still remember the powerful feeling I had at the end of that dream, when I realized that the symbol and the signified were one. I'm still searching for the symbol that represents itself. For some reason, it reminds me of what God said when somebody asked him for his name.
"I am that I am."
Many have translated this as "I am what I am." I think this is wrong. I think the first has a finer shade of meaning. There is an implication of necessity by using the word "that". In other words, God says something like this: "My being is so good that it recognizes how beneficial it is that it should exist for itself and for all, and thus it self-wills its goodness out of its own goodness."
Sounds like eternal, uncreated being to me.
Our being is in time, and thus subject to change and dissolution. That is the internal logic of this dream.
It is interesting to imagine characters in a dream asking questions of the dreamer.
Who are you? What are you? Why don't you answer me when I pray to you? Where are you? Do you even exist? Why do you let bad things happen? What happens when we die?
Aren't the creator and the created being necessarily linked? What happens when the character figures out that he's in a dream? What new possibilities arise?
Doesn't he have a new type of agency?
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