When I got into work this morning, Billy drew me aside and informed me that the owner of a major, local contracting company arrived drunk to work an hour before and started insulting his workers before firing them all.
Crazy.
"But, Goo Goo, it's your fault," he told me.
Why?
Last year, for Christmas, I bought Billy a bottle of blueberry Stoli, since he goes in for blueberry flavored things. And vodka.
And Billy, being of the generous spirit, probably didn't get more than a shot for himself, as he offered it to everyone who came to the counter.
(For the record, Billy gave me my treasured copy of the Neil Diamond boxed set).
Well, the owner of the company in question was on the wagon at the time and hadn't touched a drop in years. Something about the morning or the spirit moved him, and he asked Billy how much he could take.
As much as you want! Holiday cheer!
So he poured himself a full coffee cup of the stuff and shot it down while the counterworkers stood wide-eyed.
And since then, it's been a day by day descent into addiction and chaos for our man, no doubt fueled by the twin demons of the bad economic times and the bad fortunes following men capable of downing a coffee cup full of blueberry vodka early in the morning, while the rest of the world is just beginning to blink and curse the alarm clock.
This has made me rethink my gift to Billy this year, but the die has been cast. Blueberry Stoli, it is!!!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Processing
I froze the bones from the pig and finally got around to making stock tonight. It's the second stock I've made in the new house, the second since I've started cooking again. It could have been better -- but I was pressed for time.
With it, I made a butternut squash soup and it fit the winter just fine. Almost all ingredient were local, save the garlic, pepper, fresh nutmeg, and salt. Squash, green onions, pork, and herbs were all bought almost within walking distance.
For dessert, I prepared pomegranates for the first time, dropping the seeds into a bowl of cold water to make it easier to remove the membranes.
It was nice to get in a healthy meal, and I assume I burned more calories making it than eating it: I started work at four and put the last dried dish in the cupboard five minutes ago, nearly five hours later.
*
We didn't get home from karaoke until 1:30 a.m. last night. Jess was so tired I gave her the mini egg sandwich I be bought at the gas station, and she ate it halfway through, from the top down. Thankfully, I didn't have to carry her up the stairs, but she fell asleep instantly, whereas I still had to wind down a little, and I did so writing a few facebook messages and reading a chapter in a book Mikey lent me.
*
We bought a healthy little Christmas tree at Gary's farmstand. We went to Pierce's first, but they were too expensive.
When I grew up, we owned a plastic tree. I don't think it was until high school when I found out that some people actually put real trees into their homes.
So far, the cats have not discovered its joys. We wait expectantly.
After Jess decorated the fence and two of our trees with lights, our home has taken on the soft light feel of the coming season. The tree, still unadorned, heightens this, as does the snow, or at least the occasional threat of it.
*
Next Saturday, Jess is going to spend with her family and she's going to have a "sleep over" with her sisters. This means that I will have the house to myself for the first time, ever. And my plans are to do the jiu-jitsu tournament during the day, return home with good whole bean coffee, a book or two, and some winter ales. I will no doubt spend a quiet evening enjoying the two extremes of the tranquil enjoyment of literature and the soothing pleasure of blowing out the eyeballs of a Boomer in Gears of War 2.
Carry on, soldiers!
With it, I made a butternut squash soup and it fit the winter just fine. Almost all ingredient were local, save the garlic, pepper, fresh nutmeg, and salt. Squash, green onions, pork, and herbs were all bought almost within walking distance.
For dessert, I prepared pomegranates for the first time, dropping the seeds into a bowl of cold water to make it easier to remove the membranes.
It was nice to get in a healthy meal, and I assume I burned more calories making it than eating it: I started work at four and put the last dried dish in the cupboard five minutes ago, nearly five hours later.
*
We didn't get home from karaoke until 1:30 a.m. last night. Jess was so tired I gave her the mini egg sandwich I be bought at the gas station, and she ate it halfway through, from the top down. Thankfully, I didn't have to carry her up the stairs, but she fell asleep instantly, whereas I still had to wind down a little, and I did so writing a few facebook messages and reading a chapter in a book Mikey lent me.
*
We bought a healthy little Christmas tree at Gary's farmstand. We went to Pierce's first, but they were too expensive.
When I grew up, we owned a plastic tree. I don't think it was until high school when I found out that some people actually put real trees into their homes.
So far, the cats have not discovered its joys. We wait expectantly.
After Jess decorated the fence and two of our trees with lights, our home has taken on the soft light feel of the coming season. The tree, still unadorned, heightens this, as does the snow, or at least the occasional threat of it.
*
Next Saturday, Jess is going to spend with her family and she's going to have a "sleep over" with her sisters. This means that I will have the house to myself for the first time, ever. And my plans are to do the jiu-jitsu tournament during the day, return home with good whole bean coffee, a book or two, and some winter ales. I will no doubt spend a quiet evening enjoying the two extremes of the tranquil enjoyment of literature and the soothing pleasure of blowing out the eyeballs of a Boomer in Gears of War 2.
Carry on, soldiers!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Skipping Lightly, Oh Fuck Yeah
I'm sitting in the Newburyport Starbucks. Too many kids around for my tastes, but it will have to do.
I vowed to work on the novel today, but I had a morning meeting at the jiu-jitsu school and I'm going to karaoke tonight outside of Waltham. Because of a driving situation that doesn't bear repeating, I had to drive Jess to Newburyport for her four-year old niece's birthday party. And the funny thing was, as I was sitting on the couch in the basement, watching football.
I tend to associate watching weekend sports with intellectual laziness. I have no justification in doing so. I just do. It makes me feel greasy, in a way that a more complete collapse into do-nothing daydreams doesn't.
But oh yeah, I mentioned a funny thing. The funny thing was that I was starting to enjoy myself, sitting there, nursing a beer and watching the game. People let their hair down and forget the silent children in the room, and all sorts of otherwise taboo subjects are brought up. I kept track. Everything from reprisal killings to cocaine to -- I don't know -- the goddamned news. It's all news, this . . . . But I've known Jess enough so that her family are, well, dare I say it? Let's move on . . . .
So I left. Not to prevent a good time, but to insure continuity on the novel. It's too easy to take a few days off and start filling the time with learning to make paella. It's hard enough to get home and fry up and clean up and up up up when the pull of the earth is so damn low. The heaviness at the end of the day. And, right at that moment, I was to drain the syrup from my ears and write a novel that people will actually want to read, and that will mean something to people.
Mean something. Hmmm. Vague language. Have to be careful with that. But you know what I mean.
So I'm here among the crying babies, working for my 1000 words. That's my daily goal. One year, one novel, do or die.
So it goes. Me and the crying babies and the coffee, spitting away on a cold Saturday afternoon in Newburyport.
I vowed to work on the novel today, but I had a morning meeting at the jiu-jitsu school and I'm going to karaoke tonight outside of Waltham. Because of a driving situation that doesn't bear repeating, I had to drive Jess to Newburyport for her four-year old niece's birthday party. And the funny thing was, as I was sitting on the couch in the basement, watching football.
I tend to associate watching weekend sports with intellectual laziness. I have no justification in doing so. I just do. It makes me feel greasy, in a way that a more complete collapse into do-nothing daydreams doesn't.
But oh yeah, I mentioned a funny thing. The funny thing was that I was starting to enjoy myself, sitting there, nursing a beer and watching the game. People let their hair down and forget the silent children in the room, and all sorts of otherwise taboo subjects are brought up. I kept track. Everything from reprisal killings to cocaine to -- I don't know -- the goddamned news. It's all news, this . . . . But I've known Jess enough so that her family are, well, dare I say it? Let's move on . . . .
So I left. Not to prevent a good time, but to insure continuity on the novel. It's too easy to take a few days off and start filling the time with learning to make paella. It's hard enough to get home and fry up and clean up and up up up when the pull of the earth is so damn low. The heaviness at the end of the day. And, right at that moment, I was to drain the syrup from my ears and write a novel that people will actually want to read, and that will mean something to people.
Mean something. Hmmm. Vague language. Have to be careful with that. But you know what I mean.
So I'm here among the crying babies, working for my 1000 words. That's my daily goal. One year, one novel, do or die.
So it goes. Me and the crying babies and the coffee, spitting away on a cold Saturday afternoon in Newburyport.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
WALL-E
Finished WALL-E last night, after dashing off a quick 1000 words of the novel that I've returned to writing.
What struck me about the Idiocracy-themed Disney flick was how it already has the sense of being dated. Sure, it's creative and clever at every turn, with a fascinating level of physical detail, but at the same time it all seems like something from another era, when we thought the middle class would continue to prosper. It's dark vision of the future isn't nearly as dark as what might be upon us.
After seeing it, I remember back to an NPR interview with director Andrew Stanton, in which the interview claimed that people on the right criticized the film for being too left-wing, and people on the right critized it for being too left-wing, and the director disavowed any politics whatever. This is all if my memory serves. After having seen it, I will now go so far as to doubt the sanity of anyone who sees this film as coming from a right-wing perspective, and I doubt anyone did in the first place.
Speaking of right and left, Christopher Hitchens (is there any other major public intellectual these days?) wrote a piece on Sarah Palin late in the campaign that I find myself returning to, not just because he ended up predicting the outcome and diagnosing the wherefores of the vote, but because he seems to one of the few who isn't afraid to speak out against dangerous tendencies in American populism: most notably, the odd notion that the only true Americans come from small towns.
*
So pardon me if I skip away quickly. I want to work on the novel while I still have energy left in me to write.
What struck me about the Idiocracy-themed Disney flick was how it already has the sense of being dated. Sure, it's creative and clever at every turn, with a fascinating level of physical detail, but at the same time it all seems like something from another era, when we thought the middle class would continue to prosper. It's dark vision of the future isn't nearly as dark as what might be upon us.
After seeing it, I remember back to an NPR interview with director Andrew Stanton, in which the interview claimed that people on the right criticized the film for being too left-wing, and people on the right critized it for being too left-wing, and the director disavowed any politics whatever. This is all if my memory serves. After having seen it, I will now go so far as to doubt the sanity of anyone who sees this film as coming from a right-wing perspective, and I doubt anyone did in the first place.
Speaking of right and left, Christopher Hitchens (is there any other major public intellectual these days?) wrote a piece on Sarah Palin late in the campaign that I find myself returning to, not just because he ended up predicting the outcome and diagnosing the wherefores of the vote, but because he seems to one of the few who isn't afraid to speak out against dangerous tendencies in American populism: most notably, the odd notion that the only true Americans come from small towns.
*
So pardon me if I skip away quickly. I want to work on the novel while I still have energy left in me to write.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Humility of the Frankfurter
I'm sick of eating turkey and leek soup, so today I spent one of my final few bills on the twin hot dog special at a gas station.
Two fifty gets you two franks and lots of fixins. I loaded mine with sauerkraut, banana peppers, and mustard.
Two dollars fifty for a lunch isn't half bad. There was once a day when I would have balked at such a meal, but it was hot and salty and had a kick.
In William Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways, he visits a monastery and is shocked to find that the monks eat hot dogs at lunch, rather than some gruel or primitive stew. Since then, I've associated hot dogs with austerity. I suppose some associate them with baseball, but for me it's just monks and gas stations, all the way down the line.
Two fifty gets you two franks and lots of fixins. I loaded mine with sauerkraut, banana peppers, and mustard.
Two dollars fifty for a lunch isn't half bad. There was once a day when I would have balked at such a meal, but it was hot and salty and had a kick.
In William Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways, he visits a monastery and is shocked to find that the monks eat hot dogs at lunch, rather than some gruel or primitive stew. Since then, I've associated hot dogs with austerity. I suppose some associate them with baseball, but for me it's just monks and gas stations, all the way down the line.
AC/DC
"You know what song has grown on me?" I asked Billy.
"I dunno."
"The new AC/DC."
"Me, too!" he said, his eyes widening.
What I like about the song, aside from the guitar sound and its catchiness is the ambiguity about whether being a runaway train is a good or a bad thing. Plus, I like the image of some singer singing to some girl, offering her advice, and then having one-hundred of his friends emphasize the key points of his lecture in chorus.
"I think that AC/DC must decide what songs go on the record by voting whether or not it'll be a good song for strippers," said a guy at the counter.
Billy reflected: "What do you think, right now, is the biggest band for stripper music?"
"AC/DC?" I offered.
"No," Billy replied, with confidence, "It's Buckcherry."
And with that, we went back to work.
"I dunno."
"The new AC/DC."
"Me, too!" he said, his eyes widening.
What I like about the song, aside from the guitar sound and its catchiness is the ambiguity about whether being a runaway train is a good or a bad thing. Plus, I like the image of some singer singing to some girl, offering her advice, and then having one-hundred of his friends emphasize the key points of his lecture in chorus.
"I think that AC/DC must decide what songs go on the record by voting whether or not it'll be a good song for strippers," said a guy at the counter.
Billy reflected: "What do you think, right now, is the biggest band for stripper music?"
"AC/DC?" I offered.
"No," Billy replied, with confidence, "It's Buckcherry."
And with that, we went back to work.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Samurai Sword
Saturday night, Jess fell asleep on my lap while we were watching the first Harry Potter movie.
I can sometimes carry on amusing conversations with her while in this state that she doesn't remember.
In the beginning of the movie, incoming Hogwart's students are told they are allowed to bring a cat, an owl, or a toad as a familiar.
"Which one do you think I would bring?" I asked Jess, not realizing she had dozed off.
"A samurai sword," she said, quickly, and matter-of-factly.
The choice is between a cat, and owl, or a toad, I told her.
"Slappy," she said.
"Go back to sleep," I told her.
*
My mother's computer continued to be a source of annoyance. I stopped by after work yesterday to try installing the old harddrive and, after ninety minutes of fruitless effort, decided I would instead try to talk her into letting me take the power tools.
She keeps some great, old, still functioning power tooks in the basement: a belt sander, a router, a saw, even an electric grinding stone. They are decades old, heavy, and built in a age where you expected to pass tools onto your children.
When I told her that I wasn't able to fix the computer, she burst into tears. "What else can go wrong!" she yelled.
I silently took the tools, as well as a dusy air popper I'd found in the basement. She was still crying when I left, Fox News playing in the living room.
I got into the car and drove off. I had a handful of napkins with me. I had somehow, without noticed, nicked the skin on my left cheek and it wouldn't stop bleeding. It bled for hours. I would almost say tears of blood, only it was a little too low on my face to be tears.
When I arrived at the school to teach, it was still bleeding. Chris recommend I put duct tape over it, as it would act like a second skin. I did, and it finally stopped bleeding after I replaced the tape.
*
Mikey and George both offered to go out of their way to fix the computer. I ended up rerouting a truck run earlier today and dropping the tower off with Mikey to see if it could be salvaged. Their kindness gives me peace of mind on a number of levels.
As my persistent knee troubles continue to worsen, and I'm forced to at least consider retiring from jiu-jitsu, depending on the outcome of doctor's meetings, at this point it is more the people I'd miss than the training. Not that I wouldn't miss the training -- but as with anything you do for a length of time, the value disengages at key points from the activity itself, and you find yourself thinking things like, "I can't stop training. Where the fuck will I find people to do karaoke with!"
*
Speaking of karaoke. Saturday night. Who's down?
I can sometimes carry on amusing conversations with her while in this state that she doesn't remember.
In the beginning of the movie, incoming Hogwart's students are told they are allowed to bring a cat, an owl, or a toad as a familiar.
"Which one do you think I would bring?" I asked Jess, not realizing she had dozed off.
"A samurai sword," she said, quickly, and matter-of-factly.
The choice is between a cat, and owl, or a toad, I told her.
"Slappy," she said.
"Go back to sleep," I told her.
*
My mother's computer continued to be a source of annoyance. I stopped by after work yesterday to try installing the old harddrive and, after ninety minutes of fruitless effort, decided I would instead try to talk her into letting me take the power tools.
She keeps some great, old, still functioning power tooks in the basement: a belt sander, a router, a saw, even an electric grinding stone. They are decades old, heavy, and built in a age where you expected to pass tools onto your children.
When I told her that I wasn't able to fix the computer, she burst into tears. "What else can go wrong!" she yelled.
I silently took the tools, as well as a dusy air popper I'd found in the basement. She was still crying when I left, Fox News playing in the living room.
I got into the car and drove off. I had a handful of napkins with me. I had somehow, without noticed, nicked the skin on my left cheek and it wouldn't stop bleeding. It bled for hours. I would almost say tears of blood, only it was a little too low on my face to be tears.
When I arrived at the school to teach, it was still bleeding. Chris recommend I put duct tape over it, as it would act like a second skin. I did, and it finally stopped bleeding after I replaced the tape.
*
Mikey and George both offered to go out of their way to fix the computer. I ended up rerouting a truck run earlier today and dropping the tower off with Mikey to see if it could be salvaged. Their kindness gives me peace of mind on a number of levels.
As my persistent knee troubles continue to worsen, and I'm forced to at least consider retiring from jiu-jitsu, depending on the outcome of doctor's meetings, at this point it is more the people I'd miss than the training. Not that I wouldn't miss the training -- but as with anything you do for a length of time, the value disengages at key points from the activity itself, and you find yourself thinking things like, "I can't stop training. Where the fuck will I find people to do karaoke with!"
*
Speaking of karaoke. Saturday night. Who's down?
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