Gifted Slacker

On Friday Robin and I are going to San Francisco for her cousin’s wedding. We have to be up real early, which is a big struggle, for one of us, anyway.

This week I need to dig out my suit, shirts, and ties and figure out if anything I’m taking needs to be cleaned or pressed. Then I need to figure out how to pack it all so it doesn’t need to be pressed when I take it out of the suit-case. That’s a weird word, suitcase. I’ve traveled quite a bit and I don’t think I’ve ever put a suit in what people call a suitcase. I always use a garment bag. Weird.

I think it’s also neat that if you add a hyphen to a word that used to be a hyphenate but has since lost the hyphen, then you read a pretty significant pause where the out-of-place hyphen is. The pause, for me, is longer than the pause for something that is commonly hyphenated, like ass-hat.

Er, okay. What was I talking about? Ah, yes, a wedding, meeting a bunch of new people, travel, sunny California.

Hmm… Not sure I have much else to say.

I tend to forget how much linguistic topics grab me. Maybe I’ll be able to sneak into a few linguistic lectures at Newcastle. (Yes, Robin. I know, I will be so busy I won’t likely be able to find the time. A guy can dream, can’t he.)

This should be fun, I love California. It’s the one warm place in the world that I would, in a big way, want to live.

Note: This article could more aptly be titled “Boy, that’s what I call a digression.”

It seems the more interesting my life becomes the less I’m interested in reading about other people’s lives.* My feedreader is becoming clogged with posts that I’ll likely never get around to reading.

The upshot of this is that since I’m not reading these things, the pressure I feel to be “normal” and write in public about my own shit has lessened.

My book reading drive is pretty much dead right now, too. This makes me a sad panda. I suppose that all the preparations for school and some other miscellaneous travel plans have trashed my attention span.

* That is, that I’m not interested in reading what people I don’t know have to say. If I know you, I’m still interested in what you have to say, so keep writing (this means Robin, Brian, Jen, and Ethan in particular).

Yes, I was born a poor black child.

You are most like: Black
You are bold with a dark side. You make clear lines wherever you go, though you color outside of the lines. Many people may just see the surface of you and think you are merely plain, but you have a lot of depth to you as well.
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A couple new posts are on the way. In the mean time, here’s some poetry to keep you entertained:

I beg you, my sweet, my Ipsitilla,
my darling, my sophisticated beauty,
summon me to a midday assignation;
and, if you’re willing, do me one big favor:
don’t let another client shoot the door bolt,
and don’t decide to suddenly go cruising,
but stay at home & get yourself all ready
for nine - yes, nine - successive copulations!
Honestly, if you want it, give the order:
I’ve eaten, and I’m sated, supinated!
My prick is poking through my cloak and tunic.

Catullus, translated by Chia-Hsien Lin