School stuff

Having a rain-soaked afternoon in the GU library working on projects. It can be much easier to complete tasks when you're outside the home environment. I don't know where to go to find snacks, there are no video games, and nowhere to take a nap. Might actually get something done.

Il est trop tard (This post is mobile friendly)

The beautiful Georges Moustaki wrote:

Mon enfant ceci loin
Il est deja demain
passe passe le temps
Il n'y en a plus pour tres longs temps

Pourtant je vis toujours
Pourtant je fais l'amour
M'arrive meme de chanter
Sur ma guitar

Tu etais si jolie
Je suis seul dans mon lit
Passe passe le temps
Il n'y en a plus pour tres longs temps

I couldn't have said it better myself. Nor could I have conjugated those verbs without assistance. Well played, Georges. Here's the link.

NFL network misheard

The broom is off the Lions' rose. Pick sicks. He will go up and get it at 11 feet. Clocking was a little too rude.

Laundry!

Landry.

Go get it A-1!

For the first time in Lane's history

Ask me no questions

Q. Why did it take the French pastry chef so long to get to work?

A. He had to 'croissant' a busy street.

If you don't like my joke, say it to my face. Don't go behind my back and trash me on message boards. You know I hate that. And make sure you keep a straight face the entire time if you tell the joke. That's how it's done, with two apostrophes.

Civilized Fog

Some people don't understand the value of silence. It bookends talk. Talk would have no meaning if it were not surrounded by silence. When I see the 'Silence is Golden' screen come up right before the movie starts, I smile from ear to ear and relax a little.

Where is that silence and peace when I need it?

Where are those friends and lovers when I'm afraid of how quiet it is?

I will always quest to have it both ways.

More sad than angry, really

The thoughts going through my head of a Sunday morning:

Why do people go looking for trouble so much? There must be something in you that knows that if you bring a knife out to a bar and you're going to be doing some drinking, the odds are pretty good that you might end up using it. And where does that get you? Where? There's something so base and idiotic about the enormous pride that humans have. So what, you protected your reputation? You're going to stab someone to prove how tough you are?

How can this ever leave anyone better off? Someone gets stabbed, and you keep your reputation for being tough. And where has that ever gotten you? Back in a bar, getting in a fight, and stabbing someone

To uphold your reputation.

Which meant nothing to begin with.

It destroys me, the lengths that people go to to prove how tough they are, how they're 'hard'. What's better, you back down and let it go, or you pull out your knife and stab someone? You're going to jail, they're going to the hospital at best, dead at worst. Where does that leave us? What did you gain? It burns me up to even think about this, because I can't understand the mentality of these people. And I have to live here, I have to try to mind my own business, I have to stay off my street when the bars are closing, I have to watch out so I don't get pulled into your fights, your trouble, your stupid pride. And yes, I chose to live here. I don't have to live on Harvard Ave, where there are 10 bars in a mile radius. But you don't have to bring a weapon to the bar with you. You don't have to pick a fight. You don't have to be here! If you're going to the Kells on a Saturday night, you're probably a certain type of person who knows that fight might break out, and welcomes that possibility. But goodness gracious, you don't have to stab someone to prove how tough you are. Leave my neighborhood alone, for the love of God.

And it burns me too, the pride that people take in this kind of thing. There were people last night, gathered at the police lines, hooping and hollering. As in, the people who got stabbed got what they deserved. As in, someone's going to the hospital, but we kept our rep! To me that's beyond the pale. People are celebrating that they've sacrificed a human life to their pride. What is wrong with us? I know this doesn't happen too often, I know that I live a safe and privileged life, but I cannot let this stand. If one person dies, in Boston, for the sake of pride, it's one too many. It's not fair to take a life for your reputation. Live and let live.

je blog donc je suis? (not an original idea)

I'm disillusioned about blogging. It seems like everyone has a blog these days. It also seems, however, that no one reads anyone's blog. How many blogs have you seen with entries going back for months, with nary a comment to be seen, nary a speck of evidence that anyone but the writer has ever seen any of the words committed to the (web) page? And yet you probably know the feeling, because you probably have your own blog that nobody reads.

This blog is not an exception, by the way, I'm sure there are maybe 7 people who have ever read this blog. And really, why should they bother? I'm bringing very little to the table. I might be saying things that no one has ever said before, but does that really matter, considering who I am? I'm not anyone in particular. I don't have a reputation, I don't have power or influence. I'm nobody, for the purpose of this debate that I am having with no one on my blog that is not read.

And how many times can I write the somewhat ugly neologism 'blog' in this blog post? Are you counting, non-existent reader? You don't even exist, but I'm asking you what you think of this blog, which to me seems to be mostly just taking up valuable bandwidth. I think this is the problem with blogs. There are so many words being written, then immediately published. Snap your fingers and you're a writer. It's way too easy to get a blog, to have a blog, to suddenly feel at least a little bit self-important because you can publish your words at will, theoretically to a worldwide audience. But it's all for naught if no one reads it. The meaning of these very words that I write at this moment varies directly with the amount of appreciation that they garner. Have you considered this?

Insubstantial reader, are you considering your place, and mine, in the "blogosphere" (one of the uglier neologisms, right up there with "tweet", and thank goodness blogosphere is still not acknowledged by spell-check)? Do you wonder if you are anything but an grain of sand in the unfathomable blogiverse? Do you feel comforted by my asking questions of no one, questions that won't, and possibly can't, be answered?

I hate rhetorical questions.

you're as subtle as a brick in the small of my back

Charlie Murphy of Chappelle's Show and Joe Smith of the Cleveland Cavaliers: separated at birth. And I don't have the pictures to prove it. Really, what did you expect?