Knock Knock!
Who can be knocking at my door on such a day? It is raining and my stoop has been washed away by the dam break. Oprah is yelling for more Oreos and my cat disapproves of Republicans and French maitre d's named Pierre with lisps and lazy eyes.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Thanks Alot
How come no one ever told me that it was unsafe to put my hand in a blender? Don't you know that in today's day and age it is not my responsibility to take care of myself but YOURS??????!
You will be hearing from my lawyer.
You will be hearing from my lawyer.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
One day long ago, when I was a child, I asked my one legged father a question. I said "Daddy, what's a carny?"
I was holding my father's hand, walking down a dirt road. Poplar trees lined both sides of the secluded lane, scattering the early morning sunlight and giving the impression that we were on a secluded lane in the early morning. A light coat of dew rested delicately on the fallen leaves that cushioned our steps.
I remember that when I asked my father this question I could feel his hand pull away from mine. He stopped in his track (since he had only one leg I don't feel comfortable using the plural 'tracks' here) and paused for a moment before spinning around on his peg leg to look down at me. Suddenly, I felt as if I had done something horribly wrong and I found myself wishing that I had never asked the question. I wanted things to be as they were before. Before I had asked the question, before my father had lost his leg in an arm wrestling contest, before my mother had left us for the prosthetic leg salesman.
I reached into my pocket, frantically searching for my ear plugs.
I was holding my father's hand, walking down a dirt road. Poplar trees lined both sides of the secluded lane, scattering the early morning sunlight and giving the impression that we were on a secluded lane in the early morning. A light coat of dew rested delicately on the fallen leaves that cushioned our steps.
I remember that when I asked my father this question I could feel his hand pull away from mine. He stopped in his track (since he had only one leg I don't feel comfortable using the plural 'tracks' here) and paused for a moment before spinning around on his peg leg to look down at me. Suddenly, I felt as if I had done something horribly wrong and I found myself wishing that I had never asked the question. I wanted things to be as they were before. Before I had asked the question, before my father had lost his leg in an arm wrestling contest, before my mother had left us for the prosthetic leg salesman.
I reached into my pocket, frantically searching for my ear plugs.
Song
The following song is sung to the music of Interpol's "NYC":
I had seven faces
Thought I new which one to wear
But I'm sick of spending these lonely nights
Training myself not to care
The subway is a porno
The pavements they are a mess
I know you've supported me for a long time
Somehow I'm not impressed
But
[Chorus]
New York cares
(Got to be some more change in my life)
The subway she is a porno
The pavements they are a mess
I know you've supported me for a long time
Somehow I'm not impressed
It is up to me now, turn on the bright lights
I had seven faces
Thought I new which one to wear
But I'm sick of spending these lonely nights
Training myself not to care
The subway is a porno
The pavements they are a mess
I know you've supported me for a long time
Somehow I'm not impressed
But
[Chorus]
New York cares
(Got to be some more change in my life)
The subway she is a porno
The pavements they are a mess
I know you've supported me for a long time
Somehow I'm not impressed
It is up to me now, turn on the bright lights
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