The key to assembling a good daily lunch menu is tranquility. You don't want to offend or upset anyone. Lunch is one of the few meals that respects an eater's dignity. It doesn't require any costuming or condescending utensils. Self-administered ketchup is encouraged. And a Snickers bar or cigarette are acceptable desserts. If people want to eat from a fake red plastic basket, let them. You can hand them the food using a pool skimmer if needed. And so, taking into account the sensibilities and unpleasantness of our diners, I offer the following lunch time meal every workday and most even-numbered Sundays each month: Room Temperature Fish Pear Cup Hollandaise Sauce One can, Diet Sprite As I'm sure you've seen in your newsfeed, I serve this by gloved hand on single-ply...
Archive - November 2012
In the mind of God. Sit there cutting up flowers, starting with the stem. Your two rugged hands pulling an endless rope. Chalking up boards and wiping them bare.You will realize one day that you no longer enjoy the things you enjoy. But you will continue with them, on and on. There is great comfort found in opening cans of vegetables only to pour them into new containers and quickly lidding them back up. It’s soothing to wear a little black mask all day. The kind that obscures the area around your eyes and hangs a tail down your neck. You’ll keep an open mind about computers even as they disappoint you. It’s best to write up your rationalizations for this type of life. Write them down each day and compare them to the previous day. Do this when doubt arrives, as it will...
Puppet shows and really expensive home appliances, like garbage compactors and water bed heaters, are what led the authorities to him. They brought about his eventual demise. Receipts for both items were key pieces of evidence. Just as important were the unfinished screenplays found in his airport locker. The stories generally speculate about individuals' reluctance to both publicly enjoy puppet shows and operate multi-loaf bread ovens in front of guests. They all also feature a male character named “Fran,” which can be confusing to certain audiences.
So far it’s been a catastrophe. Everything has come up ugly. And broken. We’ve gone ahead and put all our effort into this enterprise and clearly, it hasn’t been enough. We planned and planned. We could tell you the exact moment, down to the minute, when children around here would start sprouting antlers like ginger deer, all thanks to our doings. We had all the numbers, everything. We had Pappy here who’d do a little dance when the numbers got stuck. Just there in the corner, without any music. And he’d come up with the fix. Pappy done a fine job. Never in doubt. We were sure folks would love to pay us a little money every time they had a happy thought. And give us an extra nickel if it came in blue. We had tried it. Tested everything out repeatedly. Tested...
We don’t have enough room for all these chairs as it is, and you’re bringing in more? I don’t care if it’s a bean bag, a bean bag counts if it’s of a certain size and that one is. You needed help lifting it. It almost got away from you. It counts as a chair and we don’t need another chair in this house. Not one covered in beer logos. Who does all this sitting? People need to be active, be upright, climbing things. Your brother? He doesn’t visit and I’m glad he doesn’t. His children make me feel inadequate. Especially the legless one. You don’t hear it, but when you two leave the room to talk about telescopes they start in. They tell me I’m not tall enough and start asking me about my mole. And not one of them sits down...
I always feel bad and guilty and so end up sticking around after most people have left and I help clean the animals or sweep up and just help put things right. Why should the host have to bear the burden alone? They've spent their energy measuring out portions and wiping necks all night. I feel bad because we probably shouldn't have come over in the first place. We should've declined the invitation, or better, claim it never arrived in the first place. Suggest it was mislabeled or bore offensive postage that led it to drown in the sewer. Pictures of tyrants, that sort of thing. We definitely should not have had a good time. We should've avoided the mutual back-patting and the theatrical hand shaking. No one should've taken out a bag of glass eyes and told fortunes. No...
“Jim, come on, we used to rodeo together.” “That was another life. It's over. I'm changed.” “Jim…” “Why did I survive? I'm old, I've had my time. Those men, those- they were all young men. Healthy, strong, had their whole lives stretching out in front of them. Gone. Gone for nothing. And here I am. A husk.” “You chose to–“ “Why wasn't I covered in snakes and set on fire?! Why wasn't I changed into a giant graham cracker? Can't you learn something from filing down my ankles and dumping me in the sewer?! What makes me special?” “Jim, you can't control what the Massachuesetts Institute of Technology does with its research money. Nobody can. It's beyond us.”...