Scabwitches

A pilsner glass is a boring glass.
The best sandwich is a sandhandmanmadewich.

Bake the bread yourself. It tastes better. Well mine tastes better, maybe you are a crappy baker.


No mayonnaise allowed. Mustard only. Horseradish also presents itself.

Only three or fewer ingredients.

Salame

Brie

Cheddar

Spinach

Dark Lettuce


Simple mans simple pleasures.

Practice Makes the Auditor of Perfection

As I was a child I consistently listened to the television on volume 3 or 4, the lowest of low volume settings. When one of my family members asked why I watched television with the volume off, I replied "I'm practicing my hearing." That sums up my personality pretty well.
I had a friend visit me recently and I hadn't seen her in years. Her response towards me is not one I am unfamiliar with, "You look the same, you haven't changed."
In fact I had this very response in a brief visit back to my alma mater. Overwhelmingly, "You're the same." Well, I thought I've changed.

Keepin in the Warbles

Every few months a new phrase pops out of the ether and invades my mind-space. Nearly frothing at the mouth I struggle to hold back jibbering this nonsense.

This month, the word-phrase is...

Well, shoot. Guess that's the thing about jibbering; the lack of conscious thought that goes into it certainly doesn't help with retention.

More to come.

Anecdote, New York.

Topical. The weather has been far from Tropical here, but the dinner discussion on Saturday, quite topical this post makes.

A Short Reprisal:
Encore Included as per Sufficient Clapping

(Mid-Conversation, In Medea-Reas)

Mom: My students, or should I call them "Assholes"

Laughter from All, Guafawing and Such...

Me: That's synecdoche.

Rebecca: More Guafawing. Mom did you hear David, he said that's Synecdoche. Using the part for the hole.

Mom: Oh, ha.

Me: Part for the hole, Mom. Get it. Wink, Jaunty point. Double entendre. Ha!

Sheepishness Abounds

Experimental Accidental

Having not barfed in years beyond recent memory, a shivering mass of partially digested crab and nuts came as quite a surprise in the midst of sleep last night. Never associating vomiting with relief or pleasure seems a staple in my life, despite insistence by friends that at least nausea subsides in the wake of the warm acid wave. Contrary to this notion I find, with freshly minted experience, that indeed the aftertaste leaves something to be desired. At least squeamishness is not in my genetic make-up, and messy bath-towel clean ups in the darkness are enough to hold me over until morning when a more thorough job can be done.

Unpleasant.

Posterior Prevention, One Ounce.

Dernnit!

If I had to invent two words which have already come into existence they would be "Alamogordo" and "Quiescence."

As in, "The quiescent Alamogordo spoke softly, yet with a bruskness not often desired in a Butler."

Creation Technique

Comic books are a more recent fascination of mine. A deep tapestry, I claim to my mother; One of a number of vehemently defended and perhaps unfounded accusation which arise quite regularly in my life.

Cartoons are high-art is another such claim. There is so much skill behind even the worst episode of Cat-Dog. Yes, I watched Cat-Dog, everything cartoon. For a time I tried to predict what was on the airwaves at that very moment and then try and find it on our 80 cable channels. Strange though, that a brain could be wired to pick up a signal broadcast through wires, and yet with some regularity my suppositions of programing were correct. Was this due to the fact that I memorize television schedules like 7th graders memorize the periodic table? Well, no. 7th grades, of which I was one, for th most part never memorize that thing. Isn't it pretty incorrect anyway.

Not my area of expertise. But television, the visual media, my forte. Could be my visual acuity, my 3rd child syndrome, or my slight to moderate self-diagnosed fixatedness, what some might call OCD.

So I've discussed heartily with friends superheroes and respectively their powers.

Which power do you fancy?
You can learn a lot about your friends by their answers, but why would you do that when you can propose your long-thought out uses for Invulnerability, or perhaps Phase-matter.

I always settle on Invulnerability. Phasing through matter, like a wall or bullets sounds cool. Break into a bank, or a locker room, or be the best hostage negotiator ever, since he can't be kill, or even captured only to become one more hostage. But that sort of power is subversive, and ultimately difficult to execute any sort of real effect on the world.

Invulnerability is straight forward. Can't be harmed. Then relentless questions begin:

Can you be poisoned?
Can you drown?
If you walk through a fire do carcinogens give your lungs cancer, and also wouldn't the lack of oxygen kill you?
Can you be frozen?
How is any of this possible?

These are not questions to be answered. In my thinking, it was always kind of like if a God from Norse Mythology walked among people. Hell no, he wouldn't be hurt by any of that human stuff. The next question is obvious.

So, are you a God?


Absolutely not. You're you, just incapable of being harmed.

Can you be frozen? Nope, but ice can seal you in an immovable block if you're not capable of breaking free.

Can you be poisoned? No, but you could probably become irradiated and kill everyone you contact.

Can you drown? No, but I bet walking on the bottom of the cold ocean would be boring and I bet it would be unpleasant to have your lungs be full of water, even if there were no physiological consequences.

And so on.

But wait! Would your clothes burn off if you stood next to an explosion.

Yep.

What about your hair? Nope. I mean by that logic your fingernails would burn off too, right? Also any dead skin would burn off too. So no, if it's produced by you and still attached it doesn't burn off.

Now that we've (I've) defined Invulnerablity in the Davidian Universe.

Layering upon a just system.

Repeat a word twenty times consecutively; it begins to disappear from meaning. Fifth grade lunchroom rambling taught us this much.

Moving away from words, is adult. The movement is direct, the sounds are new, yet still familiar.

Quayllobompus. Scrumfernando. Fromp. Lund. Beasm. Theapoltrocus.

This is no doubt a sort of maturation. The exelsiar of Piranessum, not seen scinsam tro bronthar ahm Calupiscience.

A (Small) List of Word/Phrase Inventions

1. Erotic Tornado
2. Protrype
3. Suposed Antithegrumption of the Basic
4. Estiexcepmational (Exceptional Estimation).

Drivel, and Speaking of, Driving.

A thought. Well, several really. They didn't come in rapid succession, like the firing of many mind-torpedoes as expected, and the concussive booms and hydrostatic force didn't do whatever an extended and failing metaphor does to meaning.

Gave up on that meaning.

But, I did get the thought of journaling once more. Here, please. It's easiest, my handing writing is atrocious. Gives me cramps and that awful frustrating feeling I always associate with difficult tactile functions.

By now I've forgotten what my plans were in particular with this. I suppose it could be something like Ornette Coleman getting beaten up by angry Jazzists defending the art. To compare myself to Mr. Coleman though, obscene.

I am writing however...
Specifically I was writing "however."

Extending amalgamated Poetry, in an effort to feign some sense of categorization could be. Could be the reason. See what follows.