Friday, March 25, 2005

My medieval princess

I feel a wee bit withered. Last night my medieval princess jaunted off to her Californian Camelot to be with family and friends, and I retire to yet another cave today, albeit sunshiny and sprinkled with chocolate paraphernalia galore: my grandmother's house. We agreed that I identify with Disney's "Beast" and she identifies with Belle... so I suppose our destinations are perfectly apropos.

At any rate, I miss her... I began missing her when I parted from her doorstep Wednesday night... Sigh... Were I a better writer I could guise my goofball swooning/sighing in delicious prose, even poetry. As it is I can't muster more than ugh, meeeeeeeeeeh, ... oh, and siiiiiiiiiiigh. Me Cro-Magnon. Me bash computer. Go ape. Ooogah-boogah.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Word of the Day

I get a daily e-mail from which occasionally proves phonetically/lexically fruitful... (i.e, just plain fun)...
Case in point:

Word of the Day for Sunday March 20, 2005

spoonerism \SPOO-nuh-riz-uhm\, noun:
The transposition of usually initial sounds in a pair of

Some examples:
* We all know what it is to have a half-warmed fish
["half-formed wish"] inside us.
* The Lord is a shoving leopard ["loving shepherd"].
* It is kisstomary to cuss ["customary to kiss"] the bride.
* Is the bean dizzy ["dean busy"]?
* When the boys come back from France, we'll have the hags
flung out ["flags hung out"]!
* Let me sew you to your sheet ["show you to your seat"].

Spoonerism comes from the name of the Rev. William
Archibald Spooner (1844-1930), a kindly but nervous
Anglican clergyman and educationalist. All the above
examples were committed by (or attributed to) him. Entry and Pronunciation

Geek? Who me???

Going faster than a speeding bullet, being transformed into the world's fastest man via a chemical spill ---(usually when those happen there's serious cosmetic surgery to be had and then a hermit's life holed up in a middle-of-nowhere house; super powers are then only employed to bound over stacks of newspapers and last weekend's pizza leftovers... but I digress), etc.: a geeky guy's delight. Why? Why does an oppressed woman dig a female empowerment flick? Why does Donald Trump remain oblivious to his hairpiece? Expectations fulfilled, kids.

I want a world where at least one someone does what is right at all costs against all odds and mostly because it's right (and wearing clashing colors). Furthermore, in the traditional super-hero"verse" up and down are crystal clear. Even w/ my Gospel goggles on I detect a palpable void between what I know is right and wrong and the application of said understanding. (Proof positive that only God is fit to judge in the ultimate outcome...)

So, before I make any more grammatical errors (or have to puzzle about where I put the colon... haha! Nevermind)---I'll be signing off yet again, fellow adventurers.

Comments? Criticism? Koo-koo-ka-choo?

So I'm thinking that my BLOG banner looks creepy. Anyway I can make it happy, happy, joy-joy? Any suggestions?

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Hopped-up OR Begin a Rockin' Boogie

What sugary magic is there in romantic aspiration that makes even the most plain and mundane seem potent and lofty? I'm listening to sappy old love songs, which on their own are fantastic enough, and yet they begin a rockin' boogie on the inside. That's right. I said boogie. Boogie, boogie, boogie.

The experiential plusses of what otherwise I would leave lingering on the doorstep of my peripheral contemplation I find now carry me aloft on wings of newfound inspiration. I was listening to Gene Pitney's? "Only Love Can Break a Heart" (only love can mend it again) and felt myself lilting with each cutesy bob and tuck of the melody.

It's rare, I know, but I can say for once w/o any clausal back-door that I am happy, with all of the hopped-up idealism that entails. Whoooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! etc.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Muscle factor

It's odd how straightforward we want romance to be (or male-female relationships in general, for that matter), and likewise no surprise that our clear notions about what makes a man tick or a woman va-va-voom get halted. Our frail hope that the "secret" to the opposite sex is somehow buried in a dusty tome or outlined in geometric perfection in some trumped up self-help manual is continually frustrated by new feelings, recurring yet rudely refreshing epiphanies.

Some time ago I had deluded myself into thinking that all I needed was flowers and fudge to woo my would-be. (Some oversimplification inherent in the aforementioned.) True, there are those women who are easily snared by those fleeting tokens, but they're not the kind of woman anyone wants for long, at least not in my reckoning, if only because they're so cheaply won. My issue is that I honestly have a drought of character, of... whatever it is that makes a man seem manly. (Hence the need for a supplementary arsenal.) I'm not adventurous, nor courageous, not too smart, funny or charming... I don't have that muscle factor that though women suggest is not important still seems powerful enough to secure their affection anyway.

Is it wrong that I still want, nay demand that at some point a woman will swoon because of me??? Ugh. This tired "me" again... I should have left it chained and gagged in the archives. Poo.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

A ghastly void...

A sugary free dozen donuts. That's how they got me.

Picture, if you will, a bleak, chilly Thursday night; workers at a Sandy, Utah Krispy Kreme are scurrying like worker ants around rolling carts upon carts chock full of the trademark treats and loading them onto trucks. One short, goateed recent hire is hefting boxes almost as big as he is onto a large dolly. In the midst of it all a rather lost, disconsolate spirit is hovering, already anxiously anticipating the end of the day's work.

The night yawned across intermittent instructions on how to fill out a day's report, how to unbuckle the menacing clasp securing the tall donut carts in the back of the truck, how not to drive all the way back to Sandy to pick up a neglected order/item. The supervisor training us, we'll call L, was a no-nonsense, rustic 26 year-old with child-support payments. He and "Goatee" seemed comfortable enough rolling around in the behemoth with the stock of fresh donuts in its belly. I could only look longingly out the windows at darkness.

If Utah in the daytime is boring (as some have insisted) then it's a ghastly void of sensory experience in the bleakest hours of night. Granted, I don't mind the night so much, but I can't imagine being alone in it with nothing more to do than to regularly hop in and out of the cab to open the back, pull out the loading "plank," roll out the cart, take it into a store, etc., etc., etc.

Granted, to some it may seem like just another job; to me it was a harrowing venture into the true meaning of "graveyard shift." (Try visiting Smith's at 3:30 a.m. and look for a beaming smile. Go on, I dare ya!)

At any rate, my apologies and condolences to you who may have been prematurely promised a bundle of donuts...

Tuesday, March 08, 2005


So I figured since other bloggers do it, why shouldn't I? Just in case anyone had the same ambitions of collecting cool artwork should they ever be rich and famous, here's one of my favorite artists, whose work I first saw here at BYU! Top notch!

Edit: A weird link-shift-vortex-something-or-other happened above that led to instead of Aaron Jasinski's website. Ah well... I changed it but maybe I'm not allowed to "hotlink" his site...

Somersaults and hopscotch

My vocabulary is school children playing: somersaults and hopscotch, so I can skip from seemingly erudite (oh the deception!) to utterly juvenile in one bounding leap of little feet or slide right down to the devilish and scrape my small behind on the scorching slope. And maybe my fluid imagination vexes me because it wants similarly to keep venturing on unknown roads, to spelunk mysterious caverns. With one hand I would stroke the heavens and with the other plumb the sinister bogs deep below me.

And were there a parental figure in the mix, I would no doubt have a gentle hand turning me around before I bounded in and out of trouble; I'm just no longer ignorant, and it irks me into an interminable tantrum. Now my forays into forbidden forests betray not only the wonders of discovery but the perils of awakening.

I'm amazed by the dichotomy of scripture, that we should walk the infinite by a narrow road.

Sunday, March 06, 2005


So yay. I got the job. At the very least I'll have some "dough" to spread around...*yuk yuk*... just a little cream filling for everyday living, you might say.

Just FYI, specters of my mind... Yay for me!

Oh, and BTW, here is where most of my meager funds will be going...


March 11th
  • Hostage AND/OR Robots
March 18th
  • Melinda and Melinda OR Ice Princess???? (Meeeh.)
March 25th
  • D.E.B.S OR Miss Congeniality 2? OR Guess Who???
April 1st
  • Sin City***
April 8th
  • Sahara? OR Kung Fu Hustle
April 15th
  • Valiant?
April 22nd
  • The Interpreter OR A Lot Like Love? OR King's Ransom?
April 29th
  • The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy*
May 6th
  • Kingdom of Heaven?
May 13th
  • Kicking and Screaming? OR Unleashed? OR The Beautiful Country* (if I can find it locally)
May 20th
  • Ep. 3 of Star Wars***
May 27th
  • The Longest Yard? OR Madagascar*
June 3rd
  • Cinderella Man?
June 10th
  • Mr. and Mrs. Smith (eh?*) OR The Bad News Bears? (shoot me now)
June 17th
  • Batman Begins***
June 24th
  • The Dukes of Hazzard? (okay, you spared me before... SERIOUSLY, KILL ME NOW!) OR Herbie Fully Loaded... <--- I'm kind of intrigued...
July 1st
  • War of the Worlds***
July 8th
  • Fantastic Four*** AND Bewitched?
July 15th
  • Charlie and the Chocolate Factory*** AND Into the Blue?
July 22nd
  • The Island OR The Perfect Man?
July 29th
  • Elizabethtown OR The Brothers Grimm OR Stealth? OR Sky High???
August 5th
  • Doom OR 3001 OR (a still as yet untitled remake of the Sons of Katie Elder starring Mark Wahlberg and directed by John Singleton)
August 12th
  • Aeon Flux** OR Everything is Illuminated (if I can find it)
August 19th
  • Romance and Cigarettes OR The Cave OR Zu Warriors

...and that's just through August... MUuuuuuuuuuuauauaaAAaaaHAHAHA!

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Traffic school tirades... and Galaxial Gayness

This morning at 10 a.m. I went to traffic school where a mountain of a cop bellowed out in precise "Police-ese" where we violators could stick it. Tomorrow I go to a job interview also at 10 a.m. at Krispy Kreme doughnuts... anyone see the cosmic tapestry unraveling? (Cue Twilight Zone track here)...

10 a.m. traffic school by 11 turned into a tournament of tirades. One woman in the back was prepared to keep some fifty people or thereabouts holed up in the city council chamber while she contested an apparently personal grievance with a traffic citation. "What if it's your word against the cop's?" Another woman previous to her felt that being ticketed for going 15 miles an hour over the posted speed limit was unthinkable because she was traveling downhill. Someone pleaded that there be better lighting on 800 or 700 North because they couldn't see the pedestrians well enough to avoid them.

I remained quiet. I routinely contemplated my legal pad already awash with notes from months ago. (It has become a pastiche of assorted miscellaneous doodles, poems or random lecture highlights of recent history---a personal cave of Lascaux. I was fascinated by how the disorder became a unique yellow cosmos as a botched love sonnet, a quick haiku, a smiley face and notes from a stake meeting collided and caroused lazily before me.) There was no such justification for me (as is often the case). I remember racing in wanton disregard toward the Provo Town Center to see a movie one Friday or Saturday morning, and once I'd breezily cleared a round-about the police officer cordially noted that I was going 17 miles an hour over the speed limit, but graciously knocked it down to 9. (The upside to wearing one's emotions on one's sleeve is being able to LOOK aghast when one feels that way---undoubtedly the officer recognized I was on the verge of sweating to death.)

That being said, I may have an additional arsenal if I'm driving around doughnuts: before a patrolman can issue a ticket, I'll reach into the back and pull out a New York Cheesecake or a Chocolate Iced Glazed Cruller... Eat that, pig! No... really. Eat it.

P.S. I was trying to find another word form for galaxy... like galaxial (which I don't think exists) and referred me to this acronym. Go figure... :)

P.P.S. I realize "galactic" might be what I was looking for... but I like galaxial better. :)