977. Y as a vowel
978. Re-occurring characters
979. Aspertame
980. Finishing
981. Consistency of capitalization
982. Marinara sauce for dipping
983. The bread-making process
984. Bread
985. My cube at work
986. Palindromic numbers, prime numbers, perfect squares and cubes
987. My birthday
988. Frozen coffee drinks
989. The day I got my driver's liscence
990. Contemplating what I'll do next
991. Focus groups
992. Greek letters
993. Typing really fast
994. Nintendo Wii
995. The New Pornographers
996. Winking
997. Peanut-butter flavoured things
998. Effusive greetings
999. Team efforts
1000. Liking things
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Walking down the street, warm and misty out
Me (coughing): I'm a little sick.
B: You are.
Me (coughing)
B: You are a little ho(a)rse.
Me: Heh.
B: You remember that, that joke? Horse-hoarse?
Me: Yeah, heh. Baaaah.
B: ...
Me: Neeeigh.
B: You're a little strange.
Me: Heh.
B: Heh.
Me: Was that part of it?
B: Part of...?
Me: Was that a joke? Part of the joke?
B: Well, yeah. Because I said you were a little horse and you said "baaah" and then you said "neigh," so I said you were a little strange for doing that.
Me: Oh, ok, that's funny.
B: Yeah, you just needed some context.
Me: Yeah.
B: Only, you actually had context to start with, since you were there.
Me: Yeah.
B: Huh.
Me: It wasn't like I was just working my way around the barnyard, though.
B: ???
Me: Like, I made a mistake, making the sheep noise, but then I corrected myself and made the horse noise. I wasn't just doing all the animals, I wasn't going to say moo next.
B: Ah.
Me: It wasn't "baah comma neigh," it was "baah cut off with dash neigh."
B: I retract my earlier comment.
Me: The stenographer that we pull along behind us in a little red wagon will strike it from the record.
B: You aren't strange at all.
Me: Duly noted.
Always one full on the ground
RR
B: You are.
Me (coughing)
B: You are a little ho(a)rse.
Me: Heh.
B: You remember that, that joke? Horse-hoarse?
Me: Yeah, heh. Baaaah.
B: ...
Me: Neeeigh.
B: You're a little strange.
Me: Heh.
B: Heh.
Me: Was that part of it?
B: Part of...?
Me: Was that a joke? Part of the joke?
B: Well, yeah. Because I said you were a little horse and you said "baaah" and then you said "neigh," so I said you were a little strange for doing that.
Me: Oh, ok, that's funny.
B: Yeah, you just needed some context.
Me: Yeah.
B: Only, you actually had context to start with, since you were there.
Me: Yeah.
B: Huh.
Me: It wasn't like I was just working my way around the barnyard, though.
B: ???
Me: Like, I made a mistake, making the sheep noise, but then I corrected myself and made the horse noise. I wasn't just doing all the animals, I wasn't going to say moo next.
B: Ah.
Me: It wasn't "baah comma neigh," it was "baah cut off with dash neigh."
B: I retract my earlier comment.
Me: The stenographer that we pull along behind us in a little red wagon will strike it from the record.
B: You aren't strange at all.
Me: Duly noted.
Always one full on the ground
RR
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Free Associative
So I have a cold, which is making me insane! It's a pretty minor cold, as these things go, I'm sure, but since I'm rarely ill, I have poor coping skills. My eyes have been itchy, even in my sleep. The other night, I dreamed I went to the bathroom mirror to see if I had an eyelash or something in there. In the dream, the pink bit of the corner of my eye had tiny plastic snowflakes in it, and I couldn't get them out. It was weird, and icky, and then I woke up.
Yesterday, in real-life (I think), I was leaving work when a very sleepy fat raccoon lumbered out of the bushes. Its tail had been mainly lopped off somehow, and it was very very puffy and fat--it looked like an animate dust-bunny. It was headed drunkenly for the road (aren't raccoons supposed to be hibernating in winter?) I am scared of raccoons, ever since one tried to crawl up my skirt while I was eating on the rooftop patio at Hemingway's, but I didn't want to see this one squished by a car. I yelled, "Bad raccoon!" to no avail. Even though it was like 5:04 right outside my office, I was mysteriously alone outside.
"Bad raccoon! No road!" I yelled, and then I found a stick on the ground and tried to chase the raccoon away. Only, the raccoon would not be chased and *ran towards me*. I panicked, and threw the stick at the raccoon, who very wearily, like a teenaged babysitter consenting to a game of Boggle, turned and went back into the bushes. "Yeah! And stay there!" I told it, and the greyish snowy dark beside the road.
I think I have a low-grade fever.
The eventual downfall / is just the bill from the restaurant
RR
Yesterday, in real-life (I think), I was leaving work when a very sleepy fat raccoon lumbered out of the bushes. Its tail had been mainly lopped off somehow, and it was very very puffy and fat--it looked like an animate dust-bunny. It was headed drunkenly for the road (aren't raccoons supposed to be hibernating in winter?) I am scared of raccoons, ever since one tried to crawl up my skirt while I was eating on the rooftop patio at Hemingway's, but I didn't want to see this one squished by a car. I yelled, "Bad raccoon!" to no avail. Even though it was like 5:04 right outside my office, I was mysteriously alone outside.
"Bad raccoon! No road!" I yelled, and then I found a stick on the ground and tried to chase the raccoon away. Only, the raccoon would not be chased and *ran towards me*. I panicked, and threw the stick at the raccoon, who very wearily, like a teenaged babysitter consenting to a game of Boggle, turned and went back into the bushes. "Yeah! And stay there!" I told it, and the greyish snowy dark beside the road.
I think I have a low-grade fever.
The eventual downfall / is just the bill from the restaurant
RR
Monday, January 28, 2008
No particular war
So last night I saw Charlie Wilson's War and liked it very much. This was not a surprise, as it was written by Aaron Sorkin the writer of my most-loved tv shows. And indeed, the film did contain Sorkin's much-beloved banter, walk'n'talks, long-shots and high-flown political wonkery. And, as with much of Sorkin's work, he faltered on the ladies, who were condescendingly drawn on occasion, and also saddled with awkward religious hypocrisy, as if that were just the lot of he fairer sex.
But Julia Roberts fares better than most of Sorkin's recent lady-stars, in part because he downplays his personal issues to give her some of the best lines in the flick, and in part because she's Julia Roberts and, dammit, she can make the best of anything, even having her gorgeous hair bleached and sprayed in a seemingly desperate attempt to make it look like a wig. And she's opposite Tom Hanks, which is such a wonderful pairing of easy charm that I don't know why no one thought of it before. And how great, too, that a movie that concerns events of the twenty years ago would star people so seminal at that time. Big came out in 1988, one of the first films I saw in theatres, and it filled me with joy to see that maturity and the ability to feed and clothe oneself didn't matter one whit if you had honesty and enthusiasm. There was hope for me, apparently, to take on the world, as soon as I could get myself to Manhattan.
Julia's big break, in Pretty Woman didn't come until a few years later, which is just as well, since even my oblivious parents noticed taglines like, "Who knew it was so much fun to be a hooker?" I did eventually see it, and love it. Even then, I knew there was something wrong with the conceit that the way to a man's heart was to sell him your body and hope he noticed your soul, and something wrong with a country where a girl could really find herself forced by financial circumstances to do so. Still, even now, if you were to somehow break into the feminist enclave that is my apartment, fix the DVD player and put on *Pretty Woman*, I'd sit down and watch, and swoon. I'd feel dirty about it at first, but then I'd block out the real circumstances presented and just enjoy the banter.
As I did in *Charlie Wilson's War.* With the office hijinx and even fairly serious arguments, the movie could've been about almost anything, because the conversations focused on strategic alliances, media, and money--the necessities of war, of course, but also the necessities of anything. Perhaps because of Sorkin's history on the small-screen, coupled director Mike Nichols' reputation as a "poet of the living room (I read that somewhere, possibly The New Yorker), they seemed to want to prove something with the battle scenes. I think they could've done the whole thing with radar-screen blips and intense conversations, as Sorkin did on West Wing, as I've seen in several deeply unsettling low-budget *Hamlet*s, but they had to show the guns, and that was pretty wretched, half video game, half propaganda film.
It was one thing to show refugee camps, and mangled children's bodies--eliciting pity, showing the evil that must be stopped (who were those child actors, I wonder). But it could've been almost any war, or an informercial with Sally Struthers: the only political message of those scenes was: children good, people who hurt children bad. Then there was a scene, and I still don't know what I was meant to feel during it, that showed young Russian soldiers piloting planes and strafing villages, killing women and children while talking in Russian over their walkie-talkies about their girlfriends. This is late in the movie, when the Afghan villagers had finally been given shoulder-mounted missile launchers. They are able to destroy the planes before they can do as much damage as they meant to. We get to see the panic on the Russian soldiers' faces before they are engulfed in flames.
Of course, the villagers had no choice, if in fact it happened that way. I wasn't rooting for the kids on the ground to die, but I wasn't particularly rooting for the kids in the air to die, either. Is that a happy moment? Nichols and Sorkin play it as wild celebration for all the good guys.
The only militaristic footage that looked real was actually real--taken from news reports of the time period. And here's where we get the third star of the period, and the first one of my youth. Before Julia, before Tom, pretty much concurrent with The Muppets, I loved Dan Rather and the CBS Evening News. Every evening at 6:30, since long before I was born, my parents watched "Rather", and then they had dinner and talked about what they had seen. When I was small, and eagerly awaiting my spaghetti, I watched too, or at least sat around and listened to words I didn't understand. Years later than excusable, I actually thought Dan Rather was President of the United States, and that every evening they wheeled the cameras into the Oval Office so he could bring anyone who was interested up to date.
Dan's is one of the first faces we see in this film, and it set me right at ease. I probably haven't heard his voice since I moved out of my folks' place, and it was tremendously soothing. I probably actually sat through some of the news reports from the film, though I remembered nothing. And the movie didn't explain much--the news was for exposition, but precious little of it. I had to come home and google to find out what was going on with the Russians in Afghanistan. Sorkin wasn't going to explain, make the war weird and particular and complicated, and not just a generic Good v. Evil, with all that stuff. Not that the Russians were so far off the mark of evil in that war, as far as I can tell, but they had some motives, they weren't just psycotic baby-bombers. For the purposes of the picture though, they could've been just any bad dudes in history, or James Bond films.
And it's funny, because for a movie that so ignores and generalizes the history here, at the end there is an alarming about-face, as the final scenes set the movie up as the history of our present tense, showing the Americans as over-confident in victory and setting in motion the terrible events that are even now occuring in Afghanistan. This takes place a while after the worst of the battle scenes, after a lot more joyful triumph and Roberts-Hanks banter and silly smooches. I was enjoying myself again, I'd been lulled by the semi-facts, that good things had happened in some war somewhere, and that everything was now fine. The end of the film was astounding in that it pointed out the lie of it's own Hollywood-ishness, and yet I wasn't sure as I left the theatre that I had really wanted that. I was sort of happy, for a while, to go back to the days when the News wasn't news of any particular war, it was just the noise in the background before you sat down to supper with the people you loved best.
The body says no
RR
But Julia Roberts fares better than most of Sorkin's recent lady-stars, in part because he downplays his personal issues to give her some of the best lines in the flick, and in part because she's Julia Roberts and, dammit, she can make the best of anything, even having her gorgeous hair bleached and sprayed in a seemingly desperate attempt to make it look like a wig. And she's opposite Tom Hanks, which is such a wonderful pairing of easy charm that I don't know why no one thought of it before. And how great, too, that a movie that concerns events of the twenty years ago would star people so seminal at that time. Big came out in 1988, one of the first films I saw in theatres, and it filled me with joy to see that maturity and the ability to feed and clothe oneself didn't matter one whit if you had honesty and enthusiasm. There was hope for me, apparently, to take on the world, as soon as I could get myself to Manhattan.
Julia's big break, in Pretty Woman didn't come until a few years later, which is just as well, since even my oblivious parents noticed taglines like, "Who knew it was so much fun to be a hooker?" I did eventually see it, and love it. Even then, I knew there was something wrong with the conceit that the way to a man's heart was to sell him your body and hope he noticed your soul, and something wrong with a country where a girl could really find herself forced by financial circumstances to do so. Still, even now, if you were to somehow break into the feminist enclave that is my apartment, fix the DVD player and put on *Pretty Woman*, I'd sit down and watch, and swoon. I'd feel dirty about it at first, but then I'd block out the real circumstances presented and just enjoy the banter.
As I did in *Charlie Wilson's War.* With the office hijinx and even fairly serious arguments, the movie could've been about almost anything, because the conversations focused on strategic alliances, media, and money--the necessities of war, of course, but also the necessities of anything. Perhaps because of Sorkin's history on the small-screen, coupled director Mike Nichols' reputation as a "poet of the living room (I read that somewhere, possibly The New Yorker), they seemed to want to prove something with the battle scenes. I think they could've done the whole thing with radar-screen blips and intense conversations, as Sorkin did on West Wing, as I've seen in several deeply unsettling low-budget *Hamlet*s, but they had to show the guns, and that was pretty wretched, half video game, half propaganda film.
It was one thing to show refugee camps, and mangled children's bodies--eliciting pity, showing the evil that must be stopped (who were those child actors, I wonder). But it could've been almost any war, or an informercial with Sally Struthers: the only political message of those scenes was: children good, people who hurt children bad. Then there was a scene, and I still don't know what I was meant to feel during it, that showed young Russian soldiers piloting planes and strafing villages, killing women and children while talking in Russian over their walkie-talkies about their girlfriends. This is late in the movie, when the Afghan villagers had finally been given shoulder-mounted missile launchers. They are able to destroy the planes before they can do as much damage as they meant to. We get to see the panic on the Russian soldiers' faces before they are engulfed in flames.
Of course, the villagers had no choice, if in fact it happened that way. I wasn't rooting for the kids on the ground to die, but I wasn't particularly rooting for the kids in the air to die, either. Is that a happy moment? Nichols and Sorkin play it as wild celebration for all the good guys.
The only militaristic footage that looked real was actually real--taken from news reports of the time period. And here's where we get the third star of the period, and the first one of my youth. Before Julia, before Tom, pretty much concurrent with The Muppets, I loved Dan Rather and the CBS Evening News. Every evening at 6:30, since long before I was born, my parents watched "Rather", and then they had dinner and talked about what they had seen. When I was small, and eagerly awaiting my spaghetti, I watched too, or at least sat around and listened to words I didn't understand. Years later than excusable, I actually thought Dan Rather was President of the United States, and that every evening they wheeled the cameras into the Oval Office so he could bring anyone who was interested up to date.
Dan's is one of the first faces we see in this film, and it set me right at ease. I probably haven't heard his voice since I moved out of my folks' place, and it was tremendously soothing. I probably actually sat through some of the news reports from the film, though I remembered nothing. And the movie didn't explain much--the news was for exposition, but precious little of it. I had to come home and google to find out what was going on with the Russians in Afghanistan. Sorkin wasn't going to explain, make the war weird and particular and complicated, and not just a generic Good v. Evil, with all that stuff. Not that the Russians were so far off the mark of evil in that war, as far as I can tell, but they had some motives, they weren't just psycotic baby-bombers. For the purposes of the picture though, they could've been just any bad dudes in history, or James Bond films.
And it's funny, because for a movie that so ignores and generalizes the history here, at the end there is an alarming about-face, as the final scenes set the movie up as the history of our present tense, showing the Americans as over-confident in victory and setting in motion the terrible events that are even now occuring in Afghanistan. This takes place a while after the worst of the battle scenes, after a lot more joyful triumph and Roberts-Hanks banter and silly smooches. I was enjoying myself again, I'd been lulled by the semi-facts, that good things had happened in some war somewhere, and that everything was now fine. The end of the film was astounding in that it pointed out the lie of it's own Hollywood-ishness, and yet I wasn't sure as I left the theatre that I had really wanted that. I was sort of happy, for a while, to go back to the days when the News wasn't news of any particular war, it was just the noise in the background before you sat down to supper with the people you loved best.
The body says no
RR
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Department of Stationery
976. Writing in pencil
I've been doing it all morning and it's delightful--feels so much gentler, less indeliable than pen. Why don't I always? (because pencil smudges, of course, and isn't legally binding. Still, for certain projects, it's the right choice, and lovely.
Clearly, not much is up!
They've shown this on both screens
RR
EDIT: Sorry for the misnumbering, Ferd!! I love compressed air and Sacred Chickens too!!
I've been doing it all morning and it's delightful--feels so much gentler, less indeliable than pen. Why don't I always? (because pencil smudges, of course, and isn't legally binding. Still, for certain projects, it's the right choice, and lovely.
Clearly, not much is up!
They've shown this on both screens
RR
EDIT: Sorry for the misnumbering, Ferd!! I love compressed air and Sacred Chickens too!!
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Found Poem
When people write to me about art, they often put the titles in the email subject lines. These titles are beautiful in new ways divorced from their texts, and then again in yet another way in juxtaposition with each other. My inbox--a poem.
Alice/Through the Looking Glass
The Bells
Wall of Sound
Only We Who Guard the Mystery Shall Be Unhappy
Lovely, eh?
RR
Alice/Through the Looking Glass
The Bells
Wall of Sound
Only We Who Guard the Mystery Shall Be Unhappy
Lovely, eh?
RR
Back to Good
931. Joshua Ferris
932. Idealism
933. Change
934. Fedoras
935. Elephants
936. My parents
937. the word "zine"
938. Being busy
939. Independence
940. Getting to tell/being told the same story again because we both love it so much
941. Cool Ranch Doritos
942. "Bob Bob Bob" ads
943. Getting into a car that's been baking in the sun
944. Decorating work cubicles
945. Paperbag mailboxes for Valentine's Day
946. The Paperbag Princess
947. Backstory
948. High-heeled shoes
949. Post-it Flags
950. Staples Business Depot
951. Page-a-day calandars
952. Whippets
953. Unicyles
954. Sand
955. Scarves
956. The Maritimes
957. Chapstick
958. Dogs in Hallowe'en costumes
959. When animals sneeze
960. The you've-got-mail chime
961. Ellen Page
RR
932. Idealism
933. Change
934. Fedoras
935. Elephants
936. My parents
937. the word "zine"
938. Being busy
939. Independence
940. Getting to tell/being told the same story again because we both love it so much
941. Cool Ranch Doritos
942. "Bob Bob Bob" ads
943. Getting into a car that's been baking in the sun
944. Decorating work cubicles
945. Paperbag mailboxes for Valentine's Day
946. The Paperbag Princess
947. Backstory
948. High-heeled shoes
949. Post-it Flags
950. Staples Business Depot
951. Page-a-day calandars
952. Whippets
953. Unicyles
954. Sand
955. Scarves
956. The Maritimes
957. Chapstick
958. Dogs in Hallowe'en costumes
959. When animals sneeze
960. The you've-got-mail chime
961. Ellen Page
RR
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Department of Bad Days
In a land far far away, Wren is posting again, and there is much rejoicing. And she informs us that someone said that today is the most depressing day of the year, which seems about right to me, the afternoon, anyway. Even before I read that insight, I was working on a list of the 10 worst things people have ever said to me. These are social context, not yelling on the street or anything--the people who said this stuff allegedly like me. In fact, some were actually flirting. Tomorrow, I'll go back to 1000 Things of Positive Goodness, I swear. Because tomorrow is not the most depressing day of the year.
"Is that a lisp I detect?"
"What do you mean you haven't read *Harry Potter*? I thought you *loved* books?"
"It's good to see a woman who isn't self-conscious about how much she eats."
"Where are you from? I mean originally? I mean your family...what *are* you?"
"You're a proofreader? I found a typo just the other day..."
"If you've never seen that tv show, I'll just give you a little backstory."
"Oh, I don't drink either. Just some wine on special occasions, or beer if it's really hot, or like before dinner..."
"Hey, you're a writer? That's so cool, I've been looking for someone to tell about my idea for a novel."
"You always wear something interesting."
"You know what's wrong with the publishing industry? Too many Jews."
Humanity sorta makes you want to weep sometimes, doesn't it?
Oh shoplifter / why did you take her?
RR
"Is that a lisp I detect?"
"What do you mean you haven't read *Harry Potter*? I thought you *loved* books?"
"It's good to see a woman who isn't self-conscious about how much she eats."
"Where are you from? I mean originally? I mean your family...what *are* you?"
"You're a proofreader? I found a typo just the other day..."
"If you've never seen that tv show, I'll just give you a little backstory."
"Oh, I don't drink either. Just some wine on special occasions, or beer if it's really hot, or like before dinner..."
"Hey, you're a writer? That's so cool, I've been looking for someone to tell about my idea for a novel."
"You always wear something interesting."
"You know what's wrong with the publishing industry? Too many Jews."
Humanity sorta makes you want to weep sometimes, doesn't it?
Oh shoplifter / why did you take her?
RR
Monday, January 21, 2008
Librarians
When I was a wee one, what I wanted to be when I grew up, more than anything, was a librarian. I felt it drew together my love of books and my obsessive organizational tendencies so perfectly. I was as serious about this dream as possible for a grade-schooler--I alphabetized my own books, rigorously dusted my parents' shelves (I was not allowed to reorganize them, as my father had his own arcane system) and volunteered at the library every day after school until, as often happens in these tales, I lost interest when I entered high school. And though, when at libraries, especially when I worked (civilian position) at one, I often admire the work of librarians, and think fancifully of what they might do in a day, I am pretty sure that I lack a number of personal qualities, not to mention the years of training, necessary to make a good librarian. The patience, the pedagogy, the knowledge of catolguing and archival systems, the interpersonal skills necessary to deal with the public at all levels of knowledge--what an incredibly demand job. No wonder I didn't rise to it.
I try to remember this when a librarian tells me that the edge of my shoe is touching the couch, in a cooing voice that clearly implies that I am not only a heathan but a moron.
And recreate a place in my own world
RR
I try to remember this when a librarian tells me that the edge of my shoe is touching the couch, in a cooing voice that clearly implies that I am not only a heathan but a moron.
And recreate a place in my own world
RR
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Technical Difficulties
You might have heard about the technical difficulties that recently took out my blender, coffee maker and season 2 of *Arrested Development*. They have more recently been preying upon *all* of my email addresses. I don't imagine there's too much pressing need for people to talk to me, and if there is, it's likely by people who aren't reading this blog, but just so's you know--I probably didn't get your email today, or possibly other days, either (it's a bit hard for people to tell me this, since they can't write to me!) If it's urgent, call, or Facebook, or, um, pebbles at the window. But it's probably not urgent.
I have seen all the fuss / and it's no big deal
RR
I have seen all the fuss / and it's no big deal
RR
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Sorts
You might have heard me lambaste the loose way the phrase "I'm the sort of person who..." is bandied about, as if a single fact gave much insight into the speaker's personality. Of course, the amount of insight is not nil, but the limits of extrapolation are pretty narrow in my opinion, if ill-defined.
For example, knowing me fairly well--in fact, being me--one might suppose that my immaturity, frivolity, and love of magic would lead me to enjoy Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.
But I didn't. I hated it.
This is contrary to type.
Ugh. There was no *point* to anything that happened; any event could have come before or after any one in the book, as there was nearly zero cause and effect, cemented by the *shocking* ending (don't let me spoil it for you): it was all a dream! I think the poem-parodies would have been funny to me if I'd known the originals that they were parodies *of*, but I'm about 100 years too late to the party and only recognized "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." I did laugh at that, and the Lobster Quadrille, but maybe that's all. I felt terrible for Bill the lizard, and didn't know why Alice had to be so *awful* to everyone.
Would it surprise you very much to know that, despite my frivolous nature, my favourite children's books were about plucky young girls, often orphans, who struggled in the face of adversity? You just can't trust to sorts!
I am very disappointed in the whole affair. I'm also sorry if *Alice* is your favourite kids' book--I recognize that it is likely some small spot of curmudgeonliness lodged deep in my soul that is causing this reaction. But *Alice* is still going back to the library, pronto!
I keep every single rock / they throw
RR
For example, knowing me fairly well--in fact, being me--one might suppose that my immaturity, frivolity, and love of magic would lead me to enjoy Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll.
But I didn't. I hated it.
This is contrary to type.
Ugh. There was no *point* to anything that happened; any event could have come before or after any one in the book, as there was nearly zero cause and effect, cemented by the *shocking* ending (don't let me spoil it for you): it was all a dream! I think the poem-parodies would have been funny to me if I'd known the originals that they were parodies *of*, but I'm about 100 years too late to the party and only recognized "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." I did laugh at that, and the Lobster Quadrille, but maybe that's all. I felt terrible for Bill the lizard, and didn't know why Alice had to be so *awful* to everyone.
Would it surprise you very much to know that, despite my frivolous nature, my favourite children's books were about plucky young girls, often orphans, who struggled in the face of adversity? You just can't trust to sorts!
I am very disappointed in the whole affair. I'm also sorry if *Alice* is your favourite kids' book--I recognize that it is likely some small spot of curmudgeonliness lodged deep in my soul that is causing this reaction. But *Alice* is still going back to the library, pronto!
I keep every single rock / they throw
RR
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
What to Hate
As the "1000 Things We Like" project winds up, I have been planning a silly little "10 Things I Hate" post, mainly about grammatical errors, bad behaviour on TTC and at potlucks, etc. It was going to be a pretty funny post, but now it seems in poor taste, since the death of John O'Keefe by a stray bullet last Friday night. That's such a weird sentence for a Torontonian that I can only really process it by thinking of it like a meteor strike or a tsumami--totally random and unpreventable. But it's not, because apparently people sometimes have guns in their pockets as they stroll around Yonge and Bloor, which is not something I knew before, and is certainly not unpreventable.
So that's what I hate. I'll bitch about comma splices some other time.
RR
So that's what I hate. I'll bitch about comma splices some other time.
RR
Monday, January 14, 2008
So much to like
869. Celebrities
870. Caution
871. Morse code
872. Generosity
873. *The Collected Works of Billy the Kid*
874. Finishing
875. When you pay via credit card and the cashier makes you sign with an electronic pen, as if it is the future
876. Seedlessness
877. Shredded Wheat with cocoa on top
878. My parents
879. Fedoras
880. Inspector Gadget
881. Invitations
882. People who know techy stuff
883. Tinsel
884. Favours, given and received
885. Phillip Seymour Hoffman
886. Free samples
887. Palidromes
888. Voting
889. The gym
890. *So You Think You Can Dance*
891. Sidewalks
892. Applause
893. When someone's glad you called
894. When the lights go down at the movies
895. Disco balls
896. Marshmallows on fire
897. Cheese on fire in Greek restaurants
898. Hugging someone wearing a winter coat
899. Holding someone's hand wearing mittens
900. Running for the bus and getting it
870. Caution
871. Morse code
872. Generosity
873. *The Collected Works of Billy the Kid*
874. Finishing
875. When you pay via credit card and the cashier makes you sign with an electronic pen, as if it is the future
876. Seedlessness
877. Shredded Wheat with cocoa on top
878. My parents
879. Fedoras
880. Inspector Gadget
881. Invitations
882. People who know techy stuff
883. Tinsel
884. Favours, given and received
885. Phillip Seymour Hoffman
886. Free samples
887. Palidromes
888. Voting
889. The gym
890. *So You Think You Can Dance*
891. Sidewalks
892. Applause
893. When someone's glad you called
894. When the lights go down at the movies
895. Disco balls
896. Marshmallows on fire
897. Cheese on fire in Greek restaurants
898. Hugging someone wearing a winter coat
899. Holding someone's hand wearing mittens
900. Running for the bus and getting it
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Weekends Are for Wonderful
I have to say that the Free Biscuit performances Friday night were nothing short of astounding! To say nothing of the fact that Steph and Mark built a *stage* with *footlights* in their living room. To say nothing of the delicious food, the collapsable flying disk printed with sex-ed websites that Matthew brought me, to say nothing of the absolutely brilliant performances. Oh, wait, I already did say something about that. For my own part, I managed not to fall off the aforementioned stage, forget (m)any lines or, you know, die, which if you are one of those unlucky enough to have listened to much of the fretting I was doing about this performance, seemed like a possibility for a while. I'm really sorry about all that fretting, guys--I'm pleased to say that not only was it not horrible, I'm positively delighted I didn't fake a stroke in order to stay home (also a possibility at one point).
The wonders slowed down slightly yesterday, consisting mainly of the discovery that Penny is right about whipped cream being better than CoolWhip, and that strawberry shortcake can (sorta) be created in January, if all concerned have enough patience and active imaginations. Also the joyous revelation that a first draft of a story that I thought might never be done is in fact nearly done. The thing about me and my dire predictions is that I have such a wide margin in which to be pleasantly surprised.
More pleasant surprises: gentle giants of my university years, the band Pigeon Hole has seemed defunct of late (hence the lack of hyperlink there), have a four-song artist page on CBC3 (search the song "Similar Promises"). This is handy for the vast majority of earthlings who do not own a copy of the chom 97.7 L'esprit 2000 cd, which is where I get my Pigeon Hole fix! Enjoy!
And so, when you wonder about the *next* draft of that story, the mysterious angry muscle in my back, the piercing hour of fire alarm that almost made me cry yesterday (I react really badly to loud noises) (it's really hard to make me cry otherwise) (don't try), or any of a dozen other scary things that I have do, we can really do little but be grateful for weekends.
Gloria / I think they got your number
RR
The wonders slowed down slightly yesterday, consisting mainly of the discovery that Penny is right about whipped cream being better than CoolWhip, and that strawberry shortcake can (sorta) be created in January, if all concerned have enough patience and active imaginations. Also the joyous revelation that a first draft of a story that I thought might never be done is in fact nearly done. The thing about me and my dire predictions is that I have such a wide margin in which to be pleasantly surprised.
More pleasant surprises: gentle giants of my university years, the band Pigeon Hole has seemed defunct of late (hence the lack of hyperlink there), have a four-song artist page on CBC3 (search the song "Similar Promises"). This is handy for the vast majority of earthlings who do not own a copy of the chom 97.7 L'esprit 2000 cd, which is where I get my Pigeon Hole fix! Enjoy!
And so, when you wonder about the *next* draft of that story, the mysterious angry muscle in my back, the piercing hour of fire alarm that almost made me cry yesterday (I react really badly to loud noises) (it's really hard to make me cry otherwise) (don't try), or any of a dozen other scary things that I have do, we can really do little but be grateful for weekends.
Gloria / I think they got your number
RR
Friday, January 11, 2008
More from Anne-Michelle
Not only does she send me lovely lists, but if it weren't for Anne-Michelle, I would never have known about numbers 834, 855, 861, and 866 (which I found out when I read the list!) And I've received countless glorious 863 from her over the years! Hooray for liking! And I still don't know about 823--what??
805. Pirate Booty
806. Sneezing
807. The concept of using pigs as currency (claimed to be true in
Vanuatu, on Ideas on the CBC tonight)
808. Home made wrapping paper
809. Clean dishes everywhere
810. Aged white cheddar.
811. Crispness
812. Double Airmiles
813. Remembering to take your vitamins
814. Websites that announce 'Success!'
815. Big earrings
816. Marlene Dietrich wearing a tuxedo, and other kinds of classy cross dressing
817. Argentinian tango
818. Dancing for no reason
819. The texture of fresh tofu
820. Getting over something
821. Nailing things in/down/up
822. Gingerbread
823. The Liverpool Yellow Lamb Banana
824. Italian grocery stores
825. Saturday Evening Post covers
826. Pictures of Jackie Onassis
827. Stripes, and stars, but not together
828. Red and green onions
829. Really bushy cat tails
830. Seduction via cookies
831. Looking up postal codes
832. Kissing in the Wind (Norweigan kids book)
833. Piglet (fictional and real)
834. The white wild rabbits in Edmonton
835. Cozy
836. Excessive fridge magnets
837. Grand pianos
838. Getting Even by Woody Allen
839. Arthur and George by Julian Barnes
840. Cumin
841. Coriander
842. Culottes
843. Bubbles
844. Red
845. Bandaids
846. The Art of the Fugue by JSBach
847. 32 Short Films about Springfied
848. Flight of the Conchords
849. Someone bringing you a coffee
850. Elton John (I'm sorry, but yes.)
851. Part Time Lover by Stevie Wonder (also sorry, but still yes)
852. Spats
853. Buckwheat pillows
854. Banff
855. Pizza with pear and gorgonzola
856. Rosemary (the spice), still on the plant
857. Albums
858. Unexpected wearing of pyjamas
859. Wheat beer
860. Casablanca (the movie)
861. Eddie Izzard
862. P.G. Wodehouse
863. Postcards
864. The Sting (with Robert Redford and Paul Newman)
865. Records that are supposed to teach you to dance(?!)
866. The fact that Ellen Degeneres and that Portia de Rossi are dating
867. The kind of sunlight that is described with the verb 'dapple'
868. Rumbling
805. Pirate Booty
806. Sneezing
807. The concept of using pigs as currency (claimed to be true in
Vanuatu, on Ideas on the CBC tonight)
808. Home made wrapping paper
809. Clean dishes everywhere
810. Aged white cheddar.
811. Crispness
812. Double Airmiles
813. Remembering to take your vitamins
814. Websites that announce 'Success!'
815. Big earrings
816. Marlene Dietrich wearing a tuxedo, and other kinds of classy cross dressing
817. Argentinian tango
818. Dancing for no reason
819. The texture of fresh tofu
820. Getting over something
821. Nailing things in/down/up
822. Gingerbread
823. The Liverpool Yellow Lamb Banana
824. Italian grocery stores
825. Saturday Evening Post covers
826. Pictures of Jackie Onassis
827. Stripes, and stars, but not together
828. Red and green onions
829. Really bushy cat tails
830. Seduction via cookies
831. Looking up postal codes
832. Kissing in the Wind (Norweigan kids book)
833. Piglet (fictional and real)
834. The white wild rabbits in Edmonton
835. Cozy
836. Excessive fridge magnets
837. Grand pianos
838. Getting Even by Woody Allen
839. Arthur and George by Julian Barnes
840. Cumin
841. Coriander
842. Culottes
843. Bubbles
844. Red
845. Bandaids
846. The Art of the Fugue by JSBach
847. 32 Short Films about Springfied
848. Flight of the Conchords
849. Someone bringing you a coffee
850. Elton John (I'm sorry, but yes.)
851. Part Time Lover by Stevie Wonder (also sorry, but still yes)
852. Spats
853. Buckwheat pillows
854. Banff
855. Pizza with pear and gorgonzola
856. Rosemary (the spice), still on the plant
857. Albums
858. Unexpected wearing of pyjamas
859. Wheat beer
860. Casablanca (the movie)
861. Eddie Izzard
862. P.G. Wodehouse
863. Postcards
864. The Sting (with Robert Redford and Paul Newman)
865. Records that are supposed to teach you to dance(?!)
866. The fact that Ellen Degeneres and that Portia de Rossi are dating
867. The kind of sunlight that is described with the verb 'dapple'
868. Rumbling
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
First Resolution Off the Rails
Source Yoghurt contains gelatin; at least the cherry kind does. Oops. I'm back on the wagon now! It's not too late to make a fresh start.
Hey, did you know when a parent nucleus decomposes and produces...um, something, whatever that thing is is called a daughter nucleus. That was going to be really sweet, but I wrecked it by not remembering half the sweetness. Argh.
But, hey, notice how Toronto is slightly better than usual today? That's because it contains Fred.
Oh, and hey also--a little bit of Free Biscuit fun is happening this Friday night. It's a little bit low-scale, so I'm not posting the deets, but hit me up if you want 'em. It should be groovy.
Breathe on it
RR
Hey, did you know when a parent nucleus decomposes and produces...um, something, whatever that thing is is called a daughter nucleus. That was going to be really sweet, but I wrecked it by not remembering half the sweetness. Argh.
But, hey, notice how Toronto is slightly better than usual today? That's because it contains Fred.
Oh, and hey also--a little bit of Free Biscuit fun is happening this Friday night. It's a little bit low-scale, so I'm not posting the deets, but hit me up if you want 'em. It should be groovy.
Breathe on it
RR
Monday, January 7, 2008
Liking, CanCon Edition
780. The Great Lakes
781. The Stills
782. Pop
783. *The Edible Woman*
784. *Twitch City*
785. Brian Mulroney's voice
786. Fries with the skins on the ends, bought from a truck at the fair
787. Squeaky cold snow
788. Tegan & Sara
789. That French TV show with Pamplemousse--Telefrancais, was that it?
790. Bears
791. Avril (sad, but true)
792. Lake perch
793. Sugar pie
794. *The Cinnamon Peeler*
795. Montreal
796. Egalitarian education
797. Cross-border shopping
798. Awkwardness about greeting-hugs
799. Hawksley Workman
800. Canada's Wonderland
801. Jokes about moose
802. Colm Feore
803. Grade Five, not Fifth Grade
804. Chinooks
781. The Stills
782. Pop
783. *The Edible Woman*
784. *Twitch City*
785. Brian Mulroney's voice
786. Fries with the skins on the ends, bought from a truck at the fair
787. Squeaky cold snow
788. Tegan & Sara
789. That French TV show with Pamplemousse--Telefrancais, was that it?
790. Bears
791. Avril (sad, but true)
792. Lake perch
793. Sugar pie
794. *The Cinnamon Peeler*
795. Montreal
796. Egalitarian education
797. Cross-border shopping
798. Awkwardness about greeting-hugs
799. Hawksley Workman
800. Canada's Wonderland
801. Jokes about moose
802. Colm Feore
803. Grade Five, not Fifth Grade
804. Chinooks
Saturday, January 5, 2008
What You Could Read
I know everyone adores playing "1000 Things We Like," but I thought I'd post about something else for a change. Like some things that I have been reading that you might like.
For example, I would suggest reading Prism International. If you live in Ontario, this will be very hard, as they did not send our province any fall issues for some reason, but that's the issue I'm recommending you order it because contains the beautiful story "Some Light Down" by S. Kennedy Sobol. It was my privilege to read that story in very early form, and it was heart-stopping then, and it's thrilling to me now to see it having evolved so far. Of course, this means S. Kennedy and I know each other, but we didn't when I first read the story, so you should take my word when I say it's brilliant.
Another recommendation I have for the literary-minded is Jim Munroe's mega website, No Media Kings. If you move in Toronto indie circles, you may have heard the name Jim Munroe before even if you've never read his books or comics, seen his movies, been to his shows or readings, or played his video games. I once had a strange job wherein (a) I often had no work, (b) I was not allowed to read books or magazines, (c) I was not permitted to surf the internet unless the sites pertained to books. These rules made no sense, but I got around them in large part thanks to Mr. Munroe, who bills his site as an "indie culture site." Basically, if you work in one of the above media and don't want to let your get caught up in corporate R&D, promotion, editing, distribution, etc., Jim will tell you how to do it yourself. Even if you are willing to go a little corporate, there's still useful reading on the site--for authors, there's stuff on grant-writing, touring, etc. that's very practical, friendly, and go-go-go. There's stuff on there that's not at all practical unless you are the dynamo that is Jim Munroe--book tour via bicycle, for example—but it's very entertaining.
Of course, all this partically obscures the reason I was curious enough about the guy to google him in the first place, which is that he is a pretty good novelist. I read his first book, Flyboy Action Figure Comes with Gasmask when I was a kid and got hooked. That was his first book, published with HarperCollins Canada, the experience that so annoyed him that he declared himself the anti-Rupert Murdoch, or, I guess The King of No Media (heh). He went on to write a number of novels: *Angry Young Spaceman, Everyone in Silico, Roommate from Hell* (all available at the above link) and to publish and distribute them himself. No small feat, though it helped I'm sure that the novels were good (if you like semi-sci-fi and silliness, and PCness--I do). Still the sheer number of hours, and the force of will to overcome not only self-doubt but the logistical nightmares... Impressive.
I interviewed Jim Munroe in the summer of 2003 for a school project (would that that transcript still existed--stupid dead hard-drive). He did it because I emailed him and said if he talked to me I'd buy him lunch. He wrote write back and said ok, showed up when he said he would, and tried to pay for his own sandwich, so obviously I was more than a little impressed. I guess there's bias all over this post, really, but still, these are reccommendations worth checking out--it's not my fault I've met so many talented people.
Smoking the same damn cigarettes
RR
For example, I would suggest reading Prism International. If you live in Ontario, this will be very hard, as they did not send our province any fall issues for some reason, but that's the issue I'm recommending you order it because contains the beautiful story "Some Light Down" by S. Kennedy Sobol. It was my privilege to read that story in very early form, and it was heart-stopping then, and it's thrilling to me now to see it having evolved so far. Of course, this means S. Kennedy and I know each other, but we didn't when I first read the story, so you should take my word when I say it's brilliant.
Another recommendation I have for the literary-minded is Jim Munroe's mega website, No Media Kings. If you move in Toronto indie circles, you may have heard the name Jim Munroe before even if you've never read his books or comics, seen his movies, been to his shows or readings, or played his video games. I once had a strange job wherein (a) I often had no work, (b) I was not allowed to read books or magazines, (c) I was not permitted to surf the internet unless the sites pertained to books. These rules made no sense, but I got around them in large part thanks to Mr. Munroe, who bills his site as an "indie culture site." Basically, if you work in one of the above media and don't want to let your get caught up in corporate R&D, promotion, editing, distribution, etc., Jim will tell you how to do it yourself. Even if you are willing to go a little corporate, there's still useful reading on the site--for authors, there's stuff on grant-writing, touring, etc. that's very practical, friendly, and go-go-go. There's stuff on there that's not at all practical unless you are the dynamo that is Jim Munroe--book tour via bicycle, for example—but it's very entertaining.
Of course, all this partically obscures the reason I was curious enough about the guy to google him in the first place, which is that he is a pretty good novelist. I read his first book, Flyboy Action Figure Comes with Gasmask when I was a kid and got hooked. That was his first book, published with HarperCollins Canada, the experience that so annoyed him that he declared himself the anti-Rupert Murdoch, or, I guess The King of No Media (heh). He went on to write a number of novels: *Angry Young Spaceman, Everyone in Silico, Roommate from Hell* (all available at the above link) and to publish and distribute them himself. No small feat, though it helped I'm sure that the novels were good (if you like semi-sci-fi and silliness, and PCness--I do). Still the sheer number of hours, and the force of will to overcome not only self-doubt but the logistical nightmares... Impressive.
I interviewed Jim Munroe in the summer of 2003 for a school project (would that that transcript still existed--stupid dead hard-drive). He did it because I emailed him and said if he talked to me I'd buy him lunch. He wrote write back and said ok, showed up when he said he would, and tried to pay for his own sandwich, so obviously I was more than a little impressed. I guess there's bias all over this post, really, but still, these are reccommendations worth checking out--it's not my fault I've met so many talented people.
Smoking the same damn cigarettes
RR
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Liking in 2008
650. Not having the pay for TTC on New Year's Eve.
651. Brisk walks
652. Really big olives
653. Hugs
654. Getting it
655. Dark dress shirt with a tie
656. Bulldogs
657. Linguists
658. Teachers
659. New beginnings
And now part II from AMT, this time aided and abetted by Marcin!
660. Batman
661. christmas wreathes
662. puppies and lasers on youtube
663. donuts
664. cilantro
665. MASH (the movie, and the tv show)
666. making fun of Adrienne Clarkson
667. santa hats, especially placed on inanimate objects to make them festive
668. the New Pornographers
669. doing favours
670. deciding who gets to be dominant
671. typos in take-out menus (current favourite: "Bean Curd in Ear-Then Pot")
672. dried cherries
673. fireplaces
674. anchovies
675. feta
676. chopstick holders made out of wicker-basket material
677. boys that smell like good boy-deodorant (which maybe smells of ocean and pine trees?)
678. clementines
679. ray bradbury
680. david suzuki
681. being asked if there is something from the grocery store that you would like in the house when you arrive
682. the Soft Boys
683. shaving langourously
684. spackle
685. dogs running in their sleep
686. the name Esme
687. Winnie the Pooh and the House At Pooh Corner
688. Tom Waits
689. new subway systems to explore
690. it not mattering if you get lost
691. stark tree-lined winter fields
692. traffic jams that clear up as you get to them
693. seeing what ads google thinks my email warrants
694. finding old cryptic notes to myself
695. reading acknowledgements
696. Willard R. Espy
697. Shakespeare and Company bookstore
698. people who can actually wear berets and not look like morons
699. pastel jelly beans at easter
700. my grandmother
701. optimists who aren't delusional about it
702. pessimists who aren't mean about it
703. magnifying glasses
704. very small gift tags and envelopes
705. text messages from around the globe
706. the name of Pittsburgh's public radio station: K*QED*
707. soft ginger cookies
708. mismatched coffee cups
709. the Blue Plate Diner in Edmonton
710. naan bread with lots of spices in it
711. hummus and olive oil brought from israel just for you
712. christmas cooking specials on the food network
713. the dubbing on the Japanese Iron Chef
714. souzaphones (really just the concept plus the name)
715. Williamsburg Bridge by Veda Hille
716. very short pop songs
717. renaissance paintings that include traditional christian images (the virgin, jesus, etc.) plus one surprising or anachronistic element (a pomegranite, the duke of urbino, the holy spirit dressed as a sailor, etc.)
718. toothpicks in cubes of cheese
719. (the memory of) Ben's in Montreal (alas deceased)
720. oregano
721. cumin
722. smashing spices with mortar and pestle
723. my roommate who actually bought a mortar and pestle
724. all my roommates who have made me coffee
725. a pause in the conversation when you know that everyone in the room is happy
726. peter sellers
727. recoveries and close saves
728. running up the hill
729. the odd spate of exhibitionism
730. not having a television
731. expecting a package in the mail
732. shiny
733. La Vielle Europe deli in Montreal
734. that little green bookstore on Milton in the McGill ghetto...
735. huge sleeping but live cats in the windows of used bookstores
736. olive bars
737. very rubbery spatulas
738. the fact that my grandfather thought that last word was pronouced 'spa-TSU-lah'
739. making one-night friends
740. walking down the aisles of empty theatres
741. ruby's dining room table, made from a working Miss Pacman videogame
742. grenadine the bunny
743. contemporary pre-teens girls having crushes on e.g. Peter O'Toole or Ringo Starr, circa 1963
744. Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys
745. Very by the Pet Shop Boys
746. Steve Martin
747. Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in the planetarium in Manhattan (the movie)
749. whoever thought that Diane Keaton should wear very very wide belts in like 20 years' worth of movies
750. watching Ana eat meatloaf
751. St. Sulpice in Montreal
752. Magoo's in Toronto
753. the letter y
754. thinking up good facebook statuses
755. the story about Joey and the Box of Rocks
756. toy boxes and wooden trunkchests
757. old phonebooths in long rows in airplanes and train stations in 1970s movies
758. the original Thomas Crown Affair with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway
759. flirting with someone you are sleeping with, so you don't have to, but it's fun
760. really serious legwarmers
761. becky
651. Brisk walks
652. Really big olives
653. Hugs
654. Getting it
655. Dark dress shirt with a tie
656. Bulldogs
657. Linguists
658. Teachers
659. New beginnings
And now part II from AMT, this time aided and abetted by Marcin!
660. Batman
661. christmas wreathes
662. puppies and lasers on youtube
663. donuts
664. cilantro
665. MASH (the movie, and the tv show)
666. making fun of Adrienne Clarkson
667. santa hats, especially placed on inanimate objects to make them festive
668. the New Pornographers
669. doing favours
670. deciding who gets to be dominant
671. typos in take-out menus (current favourite: "Bean Curd in Ear-Then Pot")
672. dried cherries
673. fireplaces
674. anchovies
675. feta
676. chopstick holders made out of wicker-basket material
677. boys that smell like good boy-deodorant (which maybe smells of ocean and pine trees?)
678. clementines
679. ray bradbury
680. david suzuki
681. being asked if there is something from the grocery store that you would like in the house when you arrive
682. the Soft Boys
683. shaving langourously
684. spackle
685. dogs running in their sleep
686. the name Esme
687. Winnie the Pooh and the House At Pooh Corner
688. Tom Waits
689. new subway systems to explore
690. it not mattering if you get lost
691. stark tree-lined winter fields
692. traffic jams that clear up as you get to them
693. seeing what ads google thinks my email warrants
694. finding old cryptic notes to myself
695. reading acknowledgements
696. Willard R. Espy
697. Shakespeare and Company bookstore
698. people who can actually wear berets and not look like morons
699. pastel jelly beans at easter
700. my grandmother
701. optimists who aren't delusional about it
702. pessimists who aren't mean about it
703. magnifying glasses
704. very small gift tags and envelopes
705. text messages from around the globe
706. the name of Pittsburgh's public radio station: K*QED*
707. soft ginger cookies
708. mismatched coffee cups
709. the Blue Plate Diner in Edmonton
710. naan bread with lots of spices in it
711. hummus and olive oil brought from israel just for you
712. christmas cooking specials on the food network
713. the dubbing on the Japanese Iron Chef
714. souzaphones (really just the concept plus the name)
715. Williamsburg Bridge by Veda Hille
716. very short pop songs
717. renaissance paintings that include traditional christian images (the virgin, jesus, etc.) plus one surprising or anachronistic element (a pomegranite, the duke of urbino, the holy spirit dressed as a sailor, etc.)
718. toothpicks in cubes of cheese
719. (the memory of) Ben's in Montreal (alas deceased)
720. oregano
721. cumin
722. smashing spices with mortar and pestle
723. my roommate who actually bought a mortar and pestle
724. all my roommates who have made me coffee
725. a pause in the conversation when you know that everyone in the room is happy
726. peter sellers
727. recoveries and close saves
728. running up the hill
729. the odd spate of exhibitionism
730. not having a television
731. expecting a package in the mail
732. shiny
733. La Vielle Europe deli in Montreal
734. that little green bookstore on Milton in the McGill ghetto...
735. huge sleeping but live cats in the windows of used bookstores
736. olive bars
737. very rubbery spatulas
738. the fact that my grandfather thought that last word was pronouced 'spa-TSU-lah'
739. making one-night friends
740. walking down the aisles of empty theatres
741. ruby's dining room table, made from a working Miss Pacman videogame
742. grenadine the bunny
743. contemporary pre-teens girls having crushes on e.g. Peter O'Toole or Ringo Starr, circa 1963
744. Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys
745. Very by the Pet Shop Boys
746. Steve Martin
747. Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in the planetarium in Manhattan (the movie)
749. whoever thought that Diane Keaton should wear very very wide belts in like 20 years' worth of movies
750. watching Ana eat meatloaf
751. St. Sulpice in Montreal
752. Magoo's in Toronto
753. the letter y
754. thinking up good facebook statuses
755. the story about Joey and the Box of Rocks
756. toy boxes and wooden trunkchests
757. old phonebooths in long rows in airplanes and train stations in 1970s movies
758. the original Thomas Crown Affair with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway
759. flirting with someone you are sleeping with, so you don't have to, but it's fun
760. really serious legwarmers
761. becky
Be It Resolved That, in 2008 I Will
1. Floss everyday. I've come too far, oral-health-wise, to go down for laziness.
2. Stop eating gelatin.
3. Stop reading things I don't like just because I think I should. This applies to books and periodicals, even *The New Yorker*.
4. Investigate the condo market and make some sort of real estate plan.
5. Write something longer than 20 000 words that has a beginning, middle and end.
6. Resume my usual healthy eating habits that mysteriously disappeared in the latter part of 2007.
7. Attend more readings and other litsy events, but not indiscriminately.
8. Get the tv fixed and get a decent phone plan.
ADDED: 9. Buy local and non-corporate...as often as possible? Certainly more!
10. Go back to running, and try for a serious 10K.
My resolutions never include amorphous goals like, "be less tense" or "assume the best until proven otherwise" because those can't be exactly acheived. But I certainly do mean to both those things, and many other amorphous things besides. This is going to be a very exciting 2008, doncha think?
Stop acting like a mama's boy / instead of your father's son
RR
2. Stop eating gelatin.
3. Stop reading things I don't like just because I think I should. This applies to books and periodicals, even *The New Yorker*.
4. Investigate the condo market and make some sort of real estate plan.
5. Write something longer than 20 000 words that has a beginning, middle and end.
6. Resume my usual healthy eating habits that mysteriously disappeared in the latter part of 2007.
7. Attend more readings and other litsy events, but not indiscriminately.
8. Get the tv fixed and get a decent phone plan.
ADDED: 9. Buy local and non-corporate...as often as possible? Certainly more!
10. Go back to running, and try for a serious 10K.
My resolutions never include amorphous goals like, "be less tense" or "assume the best until proven otherwise" because those can't be exactly acheived. But I certainly do mean to both those things, and many other amorphous things besides. This is going to be a very exciting 2008, doncha think?
Stop acting like a mama's boy / instead of your father's son
RR
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