Randoms
- If your head is filled with thoughts of death, gloom, the passing of time and the extreme transience of this fleeting mortal plane, and in fact that’s the only plane you have any belief in (and even that belief is somewhat shaky at times), then Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything may not be the read for you, focusing as it does on the extreme unlikeliness of our existence here and the extreme ease with which it could be snuffed out. And, indeed, one day will be. But it’s done in that jaunty Bryson style — if Bryson wrote textbooks, school would be a far more interesting place to be.
- Stripping the old varnish off a floor is not for the impatient, nor for the weak of will or hand. Highly unrecommended. But the floor in the room I’ve been renovating was the worst in the house, damaged beyond redeeming, and I had the choice of having someone come in and sand the living hell out of it, which would have caused any number of other problems, or strip the old (by which I mean circa 1939) varnish off and try to get it even enough in tone that I feel comfortable putting new varnish on. And by “varnish,” I mean “shellac,” which as many of you know is made from the “exudation” of the lac beetle. Try to think of it as “beetle honey”.
- Understand that even as a non-drinker, I think there should be more drunken bacchanals that feature poetry readings. The particular one last night that we participated in uses the flimsy excuse of the birthday of Robert Burns to serve haggis and force poetry down the throats of the revelers. I did the tail end of Kerouac’s “Bowery Blues,” having read the room and decided that the Bukowski in my pocket didn’t quite match the mood.
- The thing I enjoy most about a social gathering is if I happen to talk to someone who reinforces my otherwise non-mainstream life choices. Despite the constant little things going on, I’m not much on home decor, and tend to think of my home as base camp — it’s the place to do things from. If it weren’t for the civilizing influence of a woman, I’d probably have my bicycle in my bedroom, not for lack of space, but because it would comfort me to have it there. So when I talk to a couple who say that many years ago they had twin health scares and decided to chuck the whole idea of renovating their ancient farmhouse and instead just devote every possible moment to getting outside and doing things with their kids, I’m glad to find there’s someone else who feels that way.
- iPod is serving up plenty of Zevon this morning, which is cool by me, baby.