Thursday, March 09, 2006
international best seller
get yours today!
the mer-man of mediocrity
trust me, his hands are actually webby.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
totally unbelievable
astonished
suspicious
when was the last time you took a sick day?
untenable
Monday, February 13, 2006
the line up
too close for comfort
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
hey mister...
...you dropped something.
not so good
domp--domp--domp--domp--domp--domp--domp--brrrooooo--domp.
excuse me
"did she say step-bump-bump, or bump-step-step?"
if i was a pop diva, 2006 would be the year i'd kick off my "no excuses" tour. in addition to the title track, other hits would include "money isn't everything (job quit remix)", "five easy pizzas (please don't eat me)", and "answer your phone every once in a while".
fortunately, my imagined predilection for conceptual specificity and my general suspicion of definitive statements keep me from making ridiculously specious claims like "no excuses". i mean, really, i'm just not so sure that "good reasons" and "excuses" are as different as parents and high school principals would have us believe. plus, i think trying and failing can feel bad enough without the spectre of "no excuses" hovering over you in an ethereal state of contemptuous judgement.
don't get me wrong, a little contemptuous self-judgement can go a long way towards achievement. i'm sure, for example, that every professional athlete or musician has at one time or another looked to self-judgement as a means of becoming better at their trade (with the possible exception of the bass player from van halen). and i'll be the first to admit that ordering $30 worth of pizza without entertaining guests or being high deserves a little contemptuous judegement, no? but it just seems a little unrealistic, and unhealthy, to decide that your mantra is going to be "don't fuck up".
all of which is to say that you won't be seeing me parading front and center with the wireless mic headset, taking the world by storm. at least, not this year. but i think that doing what i can to make the final cut for the backup dancer squad, you know, is maybe not so bad.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
booby prize!
"why'd you shove me down at that corporate event, ellen degeneres?"
the middle fingered time burglar strikes again
middle finger as english child going to beach in woolen suit, ostensibly in either winter or england, or both.
see also "english child with toy car and no legs"
what you really need
your first attempt at exploring other careers is researching professionals who might be able to assist. you're pretty sure these people are called "occupational therapists". the web sites you find searching for occupational therapists don't seem to give very clear information. when you come across one with this picture on the home page, you start to think, "maybe i need to look up the definition of 'occupational therapy'". this is what you find:
occupational therapy n. Abbr. OT The use of productive or creative activity in the treatment or rehabilitation of physically or emotionally disabled people
you feel that the photo makes more sense now, but you also feel foolish for not knowing what occupational therapy was. you also feel foolish because this kid kind of looks like you when you were a kid, except his head is smaller than yours was.
this makes you retreat into indignant procrastination mode.
you will try again tomorrow, dummy.
the songs of a clown
you discover that writing songs is hard. you feel a little sick about all those times that you made fun of sammy hagar for writing things like "i can't drive 55", because at least he wrote something.you find that whenever you begin trying to write a song, it tends to look like every song you've ever liked or even heard. you're told that this is quite normal and all part of the process. still, in the quest for some semblance of originality, you commit yourself to not starting any song with the words "i was walking", "well i was walking" or "she said". it doesn't seem to help though, as you still end up writing songs like these.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
who dreams this?
the "cinnamon raisin bagel with lox cream cheese" of sports cars
Monday, June 06, 2005
early signs of trouble
the wonderful world of procrastimagination
here's my middle finger dressed as an english school kid in winter holding a toy 1940s racing car. note that we have the same hair style.
