Scions and poltergeists
I guess it's too late for my son to be a scion. Sorry Tim. Just what are the qualifications for being a scion? Can scionage skip a generation? Personally, I'd rather be a fellow. Maybe it's not too late to be a fellow somewhere.
I saw a unbelievably transcendentally beautiful girl at the grocery store the other day. You could tell that she tried to dress down and not call attention to herself, but it was as if she had a spotlight trained on her. As I watched the men in the store stop dead in their tracks and stare at her and follow her around, it occured to me that having a perfect, natural beauty is in a lot of ways like having a big growth coming out of the side of your head. People don't see anything else. People will stare dumbfounded. People will try to treat you normally, but everyone knows what everyone's thinking. Next time I see someone with a big growth coming out of the side of his or her head, I'll think of this beautiful girl at the grocery store and marvel at my own insight.
I have a simple, surefire way of making myself smile and be happy for a couple of moments. It works every time. All I have to do is give my dog some peanut butter. Anyone who's done it knows what I mean. The dog loves it, and it gives me a good laugh. I recommend it.
Come to think of it, most foods I like can be made tastier by adding either some peanut butter, a little onion, or some cheese of some sort. Not all on the same dish.
We have a poltergeist in our apartment. Once every three or four months, the towel ghost messes up the towels on the rack in the bathroom. I make it a habit to straighten the towels on the towel rack perfectly at night, and sure enough a couple of days ago I awoke to find them all mussed up. It hadn't happened for a while, but I'm pretty sure it was the work of the towel ghost. Next thing you know, she'll (I think it's a she) be starting in on the dishtowels or the paper towels. Go to the light, towel ghost.
I saw a unbelievably transcendentally beautiful girl at the grocery store the other day. You could tell that she tried to dress down and not call attention to herself, but it was as if she had a spotlight trained on her. As I watched the men in the store stop dead in their tracks and stare at her and follow her around, it occured to me that having a perfect, natural beauty is in a lot of ways like having a big growth coming out of the side of your head. People don't see anything else. People will stare dumbfounded. People will try to treat you normally, but everyone knows what everyone's thinking. Next time I see someone with a big growth coming out of the side of his or her head, I'll think of this beautiful girl at the grocery store and marvel at my own insight.
I have a simple, surefire way of making myself smile and be happy for a couple of moments. It works every time. All I have to do is give my dog some peanut butter. Anyone who's done it knows what I mean. The dog loves it, and it gives me a good laugh. I recommend it.
Come to think of it, most foods I like can be made tastier by adding either some peanut butter, a little onion, or some cheese of some sort. Not all on the same dish.
We have a poltergeist in our apartment. Once every three or four months, the towel ghost messes up the towels on the rack in the bathroom. I make it a habit to straighten the towels on the towel rack perfectly at night, and sure enough a couple of days ago I awoke to find them all mussed up. It hadn't happened for a while, but I'm pretty sure it was the work of the towel ghost. Next thing you know, she'll (I think it's a she) be starting in on the dishtowels or the paper towels. Go to the light, towel ghost.
posted by Shnookylangston at 1:04 PM
2 Comments:
Mr. Shnookylangston --
From what your illustrious son tells me of your piano playing abilities, I have no doubts that you will find L'Orage no harder than chopsticks. I have played piano since I was five but believe I am only proficient from years and years of practice... I have doubt in my own musical "talent". I cannot, for instance, play any jazz or improv, but I would like to be able to.
I will try John Cage's 4'33" and tell you what I think. Thanks for the recommendation.
And singing... I clear rooms when I try to sing.
Good luck with your doppelgangers, Catie. I've been really monitoring the towels lately, and it seems that maybe my ghost has gone to the light. I'm glad she never broke anything, though if one could actually break a towel, she would have broken a few.
Post a Comment
<< Home