Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Green Thumb?
I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I make sure they get good lighting, I water them regularly, even fertilize them on occasion. But they just aren't growing.
Maybe my apartment's too dry...
Maybe my apartment's too dry...
Monday, January 21, 2008
Four A-Musings:
One: An Inconvenience Truth or An Algorey. The only thing more inconvenient than an automatically revolving door is an automatically revolving door that doesn’t.
Two: Art 101. Trying to have an intelligent conversation with an hypocritical and/or highly opinionate individual can be as futile as walking in the rain with your newest watercolour. Yet, the end results can be quite thought-provoking, beautiful, and worthy of study.
Three: Being a Prince is akin to being a lead character in a screen play optioned by a major motion picture studio. You live a life, you say things, do things; you exist. Yet once in principle production, you are told how to say things, how to dress, what to eat and who to associate with when off camera, and when it comes to your motivation, you are told why you think what you think.
Four: Human, All Too Human. Sometimes, when I look out of my apartment window, I wish I were a squirrel. What a life! All they do is endlessly run round, pee on their territory and then defend it, fight with others, eat and get fat, try to stay warm in the winter time, have sex, and occasionally get hit by a car.
Wait a minute…
Two: Art 101. Trying to have an intelligent conversation with an hypocritical and/or highly opinionate individual can be as futile as walking in the rain with your newest watercolour. Yet, the end results can be quite thought-provoking, beautiful, and worthy of study.
Three: Being a Prince is akin to being a lead character in a screen play optioned by a major motion picture studio. You live a life, you say things, do things; you exist. Yet once in principle production, you are told how to say things, how to dress, what to eat and who to associate with when off camera, and when it comes to your motivation, you are told why you think what you think.
Four: Human, All Too Human. Sometimes, when I look out of my apartment window, I wish I were a squirrel. What a life! All they do is endlessly run round, pee on their territory and then defend it, fight with others, eat and get fat, try to stay warm in the winter time, have sex, and occasionally get hit by a car.
Wait a minute…
Two Shorts About Dogs:
The First: I ran into a dog the other day which I wanted to take home with me which is rather odd on account of the fact that I am not a dog person.
No: I have no idea what breed it was. But it was a puppy. And as everyone knows, puppies are cute.
When I win the lottery – not if, but when I win the lottery, I’m going to become a genetic scientist. I’ll hire an assistant, build a smart and stylish, little laboratory, and come up with a drug, an injection that I can give to puppies that will make them always remain in the pleasant state of perpetual puppieness.
I will patent this formula and, of course, make a fortune. Maybe even a Nobel Prize. For Peace, perhaps. ‘Cause quite frankly, if the World was full of puppies, we would have everlasting peace, and that would be swell.
Then I’ll move onto kittens!
The Second: I didn’t notice the dog at first which is odd on account of the fact that other than I, he was the only other thing standing at the bus stop.
Short, small, taunt and tight, he scratched himself, licked his balls, attempted to wag his tail, then looked at me directly with dark brown eyes.
At first, when he asked me if I would take him home with me, I didn’t know how to respond.
No: I have no idea what breed it was. But it was a puppy. And as everyone knows, puppies are cute.
When I win the lottery – not if, but when I win the lottery, I’m going to become a genetic scientist. I’ll hire an assistant, build a smart and stylish, little laboratory, and come up with a drug, an injection that I can give to puppies that will make them always remain in the pleasant state of perpetual puppieness.
I will patent this formula and, of course, make a fortune. Maybe even a Nobel Prize. For Peace, perhaps. ‘Cause quite frankly, if the World was full of puppies, we would have everlasting peace, and that would be swell.
Then I’ll move onto kittens!
The Second: I didn’t notice the dog at first which is odd on account of the fact that other than I, he was the only other thing standing at the bus stop.
Short, small, taunt and tight, he scratched himself, licked his balls, attempted to wag his tail, then looked at me directly with dark brown eyes.
At first, when he asked me if I would take him home with me, I didn’t know how to respond.
‘I have a cat,’ I finally said.I didn’t know that dogs could frown. He frowned.
‘Nice cat?’
‘Neutered…’
‘Sad, really,’ He remarked, looking at his tail as if he had just realized that he had a tail to look at.I added that I also had a goldfish, and I wanted to tell him about that little cactus I’ve had for-ever, but he simply turned and walked away.
My Halloween Story:
Wednesday, October 31st, 2007: Close to the large park in the center of the city sits a coffee shop; part of a large and global chain, the name of which shall remain nameless, if that makes sense. Let’s just say that the name of the coffee shop does not include the names, Tim, Timothy, and it may be first among coffee shops, but it’s not the Second.
I was sitting at a table in the window, looking out across the intersection towards the park. Off in the distance I noticed an adult man walking with a small little girl. From head to toe, she was wearing pink. Something puffy on top and blowing flouncy on the bottom. Looking at her, I tried desperately to figure out what kind of costume she was wearing. All I could think of was the fact that, as far as I was concerned, she was wearing a really ugly get-up. I gave up and went back to reading the newspaper.
About five minutes later, I looked out the window again and noticed that the man and girl were crossing the street directly across from the coffee shop.
Yes, it was an older man. No, it was not a little girl in some sort of weird and pink costume. It was, in fact, a woman suffering from autism. She was quite possibly in her late 20s, there was a very good chance that she was the older man’s daughter, and what I assumed was a stupid, ugly, and not terribly convincing costume was, in fact, nothing more than a display of this young woman’s penchant for the colour pink.
I suddenly felt horrible. Yet I still couldn’t help laughing which made me feel even worse.
I was sitting at a table in the window, looking out across the intersection towards the park. Off in the distance I noticed an adult man walking with a small little girl. From head to toe, she was wearing pink. Something puffy on top and blowing flouncy on the bottom. Looking at her, I tried desperately to figure out what kind of costume she was wearing. All I could think of was the fact that, as far as I was concerned, she was wearing a really ugly get-up. I gave up and went back to reading the newspaper.
About five minutes later, I looked out the window again and noticed that the man and girl were crossing the street directly across from the coffee shop.
Yes, it was an older man. No, it was not a little girl in some sort of weird and pink costume. It was, in fact, a woman suffering from autism. She was quite possibly in her late 20s, there was a very good chance that she was the older man’s daughter, and what I assumed was a stupid, ugly, and not terribly convincing costume was, in fact, nothing more than a display of this young woman’s penchant for the colour pink.
I suddenly felt horrible. Yet I still couldn’t help laughing which made me feel even worse.
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