June 17th, 2005


strange angels

there is a blanket, given to linda by my mom. it's off-white and fuzzy, sort of like some plush dog toys or dog beds. loki assumed it was hers, and this naturally made it so. today, the blanket was sitting on the puffy ikea chair. loki jumped up on the chair, circled the blanket twice, then jumped back down. she looked at the blanket. then she backed up and looked at it some more. she then approached the chair, stood on her back paws and used her front paws to pat the blanket down, then stood back and looked at it some more. it obviously was insufficiant because she moved quickly and decisively, grabbing the blanket in her teeth and throwing it to the floor a couple feet away from the chair. she circled it a couple times, then pushed on it at a couple points. she stood back and looked at it. she walked around to the other side and looked at it. then she turned it around, stood back and looked at it. still not right. she grabbed it in her teeth and shook it like a rat, let it go, then shook it some more. she walked around it a couple more times, then used her paw to pull it about a foot toward the kitchen. she backed up, looked at it, and apparently decided that it was now properly configured. satisfied, she walked past it, jumped up on the sofa and curled up next to me and went to sleep.


every weekend my next door neighbor mows his lawn. he gets out there with the push mower, big-ass cigar clamped between his teeth like j. jonah jameson. like the idea of getting out into the air requires some form of mitigation, to keep it from being too healthy. this past weekend, i let loki out the back and followed her out. my neighbor was in his swimming pool (a circular, above-ground thing that recently nearly met it's death at the leafy fingers of a fallen tree), wielding a net which he was using to scoop stuff out of the pool water. he was wearing a blue bathing suit, and was chest deep in water. and he still had the damned cigar in his mouth. funny world we live in.


there was a woman today (yesterday, at this point) whom i saw as i was walking back toward 401 n. broad after having an enjoyable lunch with netherunicorn. she was a tall, black woman with baggy pants and a sort of shapeless shirt. she as she walked, she smiled (just barely, it was really just the slightest hint of a smile). and everyone who saw her became visibly happier.


in the elevator at 401, two sungard employees were talking.

"you gotta quit that," one of them said, tapping on a pack of cigarettes in his co-worker's shirt pocket. he was a tall, older black man with heavily accented english - not a carribean accent, but one more foriegn. "it make you sick. them things no good, they make you sick."

the other man was younger, asian of some sort. "i keep trying to quit, but it doesn't work."

"sure you can quit. i quit, cold blood."


i stopped in to Shady Dog Records on tuesday and ordered Presence, the most recent Van der Graff Generator album. jesse picked it up for me today. "happy fathers day and all that shit," he said. weird. cool, but weird. jess never remembers these sorts of things when it comes to his parental units. hell, *i* don't remember them...

i guess i should get in touch with my dad. i wonder if he likes VdGG...
  • Current Music
    VdGG - every bloody emperor

as one by one our voices falter

Every Bloody Emperor

By this we are all sustained: a belief in human nature
and in justice and parity... all we have is the faith to carry on.

Imperceptible the change as our votes become mere gestures
and our lords and masters determine to cast us
in the roles of serfs and slaves
in the new empire's name.

Yes and every bloody emperor claims that freedom is his cause
as he buffs up on his common touch as a get-out clause.

Unto nations nations speak in the language of the gutter;
trading primetime insults the imperial impulse
extends across the screen.
Truth's been beaten to its knees: thee lies embed ad infinitum
till their repetition becomes a dictum
we're traitors to disbelieve.
Weith what impotence we grieve for the democratic process
as our glorious leaders conspire to feed us
the last dregs of imperious disdain
in the new empire's name.

Yes and every bloody emperor's got his hands up history's skirt
as he poses for posterity over the fresh-dug dirt.
Yes and every bloody emperor with his sickly rictus grin
talks his way out of nearly anything but the lie within
because every bloody emperor thinks his right to rule divine
so he'll go spinning and spinning and spinning into his own decline.

Imperceptible the change as one by one our voices falter
and the double standards of propaganda
still all our righteous rage.

By this we are all sustained: our belief in human nature.
But our faith diminishes - close to the finish,
we're only serfs and slaves
as the empire decays.

Van der Graff Generator