Shout House
Shout against Bush.
I like the idea and all, but I’m not so sure I’ll want to holler out my door just yet. It’s a close little neighborhood I’ve got here and they don’t know me yet. I want to be sure they know I’m safely insane before I go acting scary insane. However, as the Naomi flock will be in town, perhaps a yard-sitting shout will be just the ticket.
Currently my power is out; first time as a homeowner to be rattled by that. Still in my nightgown, I went out my back door and looked around. On cue, the neighbor three doors down joined me and we agreed it was the whole street and nothing we did individually.
I wasn’t ready to figure out the breaker box anyway.
August 26, 2004
CatsterDuckster
It’s obviously time for Catster to take over from Friendster. Now if only Saggar would maintain her own page.
Filed by joy at 9:58 pm under visuals
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August 24, 2004
quote, excuse, and bikes
One of the freecyclers has this as her signature and I’m quite taken with it.
Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: “WOW – What a Ride!”
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Been too busy to shit lately…but have grand hopes of putting up lots of pictures from the wonderful and very shiny Nikon D70, purchased upon recommendations of the Blurbodoocery (backed up the rest of the internet).
Yeah, yeah…promises, promises.
___
Joshua Kinberg totally ROCKS! ‘Nuf said.
August 19, 2004
landing gear down
We’re back from Assateague. Full report with pictures to come.
For your amusement in the meanwhile, Maddox is an ass, but this page is funny funny.
Filed by joy at 1:47 am under life
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August 17, 2004
Assateague
We were well-deserved of a vacation. So we went to camp on the beach with friends. In a hurricane. Because it’s fun!
Riiiight.
Actually, once we had sand-stakes for the tent, we were up for the challenge. It was a rather satisfying adventure. When Hurricane Charley (Cheney) passed, we felt all proud. Our tent was dry and sound, and the puddles had not violated our space (some companions we not so lucky).
However, the second night of pissing-down rain was too much. It wasn’t a hurricane; it was merely a total pain in the ass. My horoscope said I’d be contrary, and I surely was. We left the tent and the crew and drove into town, puttered around, ate, and finally, the sun came out. Back at camp, our timing was so fine, we were credited for lassoing up the clouds to make way for the bright and warm dry.
And we, finally, hit the beach! The ocean did not let me down. Actually, it knocked me down. Kicked my ass completely. I don’t have a lot of hours logged at the real seashore. The wave pool does not count, nor do all the hours I’ve spent in chlorinated environs. My floating abilities paid off in full though and I had a grand time. Ian documented it well, from the safety of the dry sand.
The whole trip was thoroughly documented due to the first test-drive of my new technological best friend, the Nikon D70. Oh, it’s a fine, fine tool. Recommended to me first by Dooce/Blurbomat, then by the entire rest of the internet, and given the perfect convergence of a paying gig that makes a need to fund the excuse to buy now, I bought the D70 Friday morning before leaving home. It was love at first sight and I can tell this is going to be a wonderful relationship. It really does take the picture when you push the button, and everything else it’s been raved over for. But enough about my new digibaby. Proof is in the pudding.
We had a ball. Now we’re home and are finally going to be able to get the House of Pink in order.
Filed by joy at 8:29 pm under life
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August 10, 2004
house death
I have a long, difficult day ahead, but I can’t sleep. My head is ticking.
I have not written about The Move. My move was simple in comparison to The Move. I have not been able to give it the digestion. It’s been too much. Tonight, however, something ticked over and I must find a way to name it. Because in my parents’ house, in the beginning was the word, and the word was everything.
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For the past nine months, I have been working on my parents’ move. Their pack-rat tendencies are known hither, yon, and back again. What is worse is that it is genetic. The house contained not only my parents and all their many lives, but also the lives of all of my grandparents, with a bit of their parents as well. It has been a long, hard slog. A term in the trenches, if you will.
The culmination will be tomorrow at 6 p.m. My parents will turn over their keys to the buyers, thus ending an era. For the first time in my life, my parents won’t live on Dithridge Street. It’s indescribably strange for it to have come to this.
It will be good to have done, yes, for piles of reasons I both know in my heart and in my mind. But it’s so much more than impossible to reconcile what these months have done to my mom. Tonight, I commanded her around the house as she was unable to make sense of herself, of the boxes, of the end of it all. If she had had the energy, she would’ve broke down in tears. It would not have been the first time in these months that it has come to weeping.
For a person to whom the word ascribed on paper is the reality of being, it must be a loss of self to dump those papers, covered in thick dusts, into bags, unsorted, not given that last look, last read, last acknowledgment.
We piled papers high, thick boxes of dead trees and history. It’s only time, it’s only life. There was panic all around as we knew the hour, and that the electricity was off already. So much left to do and we ran out of time. There were already piles and countless piles of paper that had already left, to the History Center, to recycling, to the new apartment, and yet there was still so much more.
It has been an awful weight, carrying this project. My back is killing me, and I long for the end of it. I just wasn’t ready for it to be today.
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I have to add a word of thanks to Kevin for helping with hauling this past weekend, and to everyone who took anything at all out of the house, and most of all, to Ian. We won’t become this, we won’t be lost in this paper-tornado of being alive by being surrounded. Ian, you bring me light, and I will lighten the load we have to haul.
Filed by joy at 12:27 am under life
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August 4, 2004
bio
I have to submit a bio for the board page of my local AIGA chapter. My last one was rather too blah, so this time, I took it up a notch:
Biography
One day, the world will be a better place because I have taken over. My rule will be tyrannical, but fairly just. It will also be better planned, and thus, future generations will be astounded at the fine design discovered in their archeological digs.
On a more humble note, I am a Pittsburgh native with a well-stamped passport, a degree in design and art history, a cat who thinks she’s a duck, and a husband on his way to getting his PhD in design. I freelance for a variety of local and national clients with a focus on artists and arts organizations. In my spare time, I enjoy food and debate politics.
August 3, 2004
gape
I honestly sat watching with my mouth slung open as this script played out.
So purty and smart!
Filed by joy at 11:24 pm under visuals
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