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Archive for October, 2003

|| October 31, 2003 || 12:33 am || Comments (13) ||

MacGyver It, round two

A knitting needle, a tube of toothpaste and a peach pit….MacGyver it!

|| October 29, 2003 || 8:20 pm || Comments (6) ||

Martha Stewart Hyperdrive

I just spent the evening making sixty of these with the interference help of four little hands (two belonging to Scout and two to Mathias):

Oh yeah?? Let’s see you make little lollipop ghosties attached to scrap pieces of matboard, motherfucker!

No, I’m not out to help my kids win some popularity contest.

I’m out to help them win some popularity contest AND obliterate the lame, inept competition!

Okay, I’m kidding.

Currently I’ve got my piehole wrapped around some wax lips. Remember those? They’re AWESOME, even now, when I’m by all rights and means supposed to be a grownelly-up.

But they’re nowhere NEAR as good as the real ones I fricasseed up for dinner earlier.

There’s that kidding-thing again.

|| October 29, 2003 || 2:10 pm || Comments (14) ||

Shark-infested waters, and my ass is bare here.

Okay, this post will serve to address something I’ve been thinking about for several months now, but I’ve not really seen addressed here in Cyberia.

I love this forum. I get to express myself with a certain detachment while still employing a great deal of feeling. Since it’s still in its ‘Wild West’ phase, there is a generous amount of flippancy, a degree of cavalier approach if you will, that I am afforded. This is not the case with other, more ’structured’ formats in which I could be published were I to make an effort toward that end. I get to play with the language unfettered, I get to bare myself in a way that is not practical in other arenas. This is not to say that I am not the person you read on the screen. This is not to say that I don’t believe in owning the consequences of my words.

Okay, only a couple paragraphs in and already I’m straying….

This weblog started as a big, vain, open-ended conversation with myself. It still is that, with the exception that now there are people tuning in to check out what idiocy I may spout next. The way that I am able to write here lends to a sense of intimacy for the reader, which initially was only me. Now that area has expanded to include you, darlin’. I don’t begrudge you that in the least. I’ve made some incredible connections that way, I’ve received help in ways that I never would have imagined and in turn have lent help in (sometimes very passive and unbeknownst to me at the time) fashions I could have never dreamed of. Nope, not in my wildest imaginings.

For as much as I say some very valid relationships can and do stem from this type of thing, there is the flipside that I’ve been loathe to mention because it just sort of comes off as sounding all stilted and snipey and wrong. I just can’t seem to ignore it any longer, however.

I think that I’m a pretty approachable person. Although I’m not fond of people (in a general sense) overmuch, I do like interaction. I don’t mind throwing the die and crapping out, because I know that every now and again I’ll chuck that sucker across the felt and come up roses. Paydirt in the form of a delicious exchange will come across my field of vision, and maybe a mutually agreeable and desirable situation called kinship will occur. This happens to me more often than I’m entitled, I’m sure. But….

Every now and again I will hear from someone and it freaks me the fuck out. They have been reading my schlock for ‘x’ amount of weeks or months or years and for whatever reason decide to reach out toward me. But they come from the position of ‘knowing’ me; that, coupled with the fact that I didn’t know them from Adam’s housecat ten minutes before, unsettles me to a great degree. Yes, I am very intimate –sometimes painfully so– here, and I’m unapologetic for that. Some days to hold back would simply feel like cheating. Not cheating you….cheating me: cheating myself out of the release that the words sometimes bring, cheating myself out of a record to touch back on sometime in the future (verrrry useful, believe it or not), cheating myself out of open expression, cheating myself out of (the illusion of?) freedom.

Bottom line is, in an initial correspondence, you simply don’t address someone with a degree of familiarity beyond cursory, shallow details. For all that you are privy to here, there are dozens of other aspects to me that you’ve no notion of. You may have a sense of knowing me based on my words, but it is at best a working knowledge and not completely definitive. One reader touched on this recently, and I applaud him for his brilliance:

I’ve been reading [Abuantg] for, I dunno, at least a few years. In the past, I’ve approached as a reader to a favorite column, glad every time a new installment of well-crafted words appears. I’ve always known there was a real live person behind it all, but in a distant sort of way.

Lately it’s feeling more like a one-sided friendship, where I get to hear all about you, rejoicing with you in times of celebration and wonder, ranting with you at the world’s abundant stupidity (esp. here in our Alabama), and aching sympathetically in the times we just can’t understand. And you don’t hear squat from me. So, for that, I apologize.

Let’s give a gigunda cheer for Rod, shall we? Because after Rod wrote that spankingly lovely intro, he went on to tell me how he got here and a few details about himself. He made me feel, I dunno…less exposed, and not required to be his friend. It was less of ‘Wow, I’m so glad to be your (just add water and stir) pal, even though you don’t know a fucking thing about me in return!’ and more of ‘Hey, here I am, I’m pretty nifty if you want to check me out.’

None of this is to say that I don’t enjoy making your acquaintance, whomever you may be, whither thou roamst and all that other poetic hoo-ha. I don’t wish to discourage that in the least. I fully realize that there are those of you I’ve never even heard from and mayhap never will, for whatever reason. Hell, there are likely people that come here so that they can have someone/something to despise as a matter of course (because, you will recall, we’ve all been told: ‘Jett Superior is a flake’). I’m okay with that, because everyone’s gotta have a hobby. You should just know that I’m more than the sum of my content, which roams and veers wildly from inane to silly to thoughtful to stupid to heartfelt and to-the-bone. I mean all of it….really mean it, but it is merely the surface of a crazy, fractal mishmosh that can’t (and maybe shouldn’t) be represented fully here.

Just keep that in mind, and we’ll all be okay.

|| October 29, 2003 || 6:49 am || Comments (0) ||

The one where I give literary advice.

Just in case the person that got here by the “I am the Cheese” book opinions google returns:

Go for it. You shan’t be sorry; your time will not have been wasted.

The movie, however, is an entirely ‘nother story. For the love of all that is Holy and Right and Good, run the other way if anyone ever approaches you with the film version of the tale!

|| October 28, 2003 || 1:08 pm || Comments (11) ||

Every family has token words and catch-phrases.

Here, for your quick delight, is a rundown of some of the Superior family ‘insides’. Some early readers may recognize a few….

Prettiful: something at the pinnacle of breath-taking splendor

Peeka: pizza

Fewfings: what you run to the grocery store to procure

“Yay, team!”: the Superior rallying cry, a nod (certainly with a hint of sarcasm) to/at my days as a ta-ta pompon shaker

Cuhmonica: harmonica

The MadKiss: a rubbery, dry, flat-lipped, no-feeling kiss; done as a joke when one of us is mock-mad at t’other

FarmerJohn Cheese: you mortals call it ‘Parmesan’, how droll

Girdle: someone of the femalish persuasion

Corch: what’s just beyond your front door.

Taco Bell: any gigantic clanging apparatus

Pepper Only: a pizza topping; round, spicy, greasy

FiftyHundred: the greatest unit of numerical measurement in the Whole Entire Worldtm

That’s A Darn It: term applied to situations of much suckitude

Seasick: any form of motion sickness, most especially car sickness

Jackhammerin’ the Enamel: talking quickly and/or excessively

Dirtybitch: pet name or insult (depends on the situation)

Smelly Hippie: most of Maxim’s friends from teenagehood

Hightar: guitar

Cunkulator: a (usually) small piece of electronic machinery that is (usually) portable and employed mainly in various and sundry mathematical calculations (also is handy for showing your friends the calculator-word ‘boobless’ circa third grade).

Being employed in Social Services is just the biggest HOOT, honey!

So, hey, there I was early Saturday afternoon, taking one of my young clients to visit his brother in long-term care. We were sharing a visit room with another patient and a couple members of his family, so it wasn’t difficult to overhear their conversation, no matter how hard I tried to filter it out.

The boy was about sixteen, big and with a face a bit like a bagful of smashed crabs (thanks, Ross); he wasn’t unattractive, per se, but you could tell when you looked at him dead-on (which I did several times, as he insisted on alternating between staring at my breasts and attempting to engage me in conversation) that all the bacon didn’t make it into the skillet. That, and he could’ve benefitted from a little Clearasil. He had a pretty healthy speech impediment and (apparently) a robust problem with managing his tendency toward rage. I know this because he was discussing with his somewhat aged great aunt and his ancient grandmother his recent threat to kill his doctor and any staff he could latch onto. Their discussion progressed to the consequences of his actions toward that end; the hospital was apparently sending the future serial rapist big ole fella to an institution with more hardcore leanings soon and his toothless, wrinkled-beyond-belief grandmother was concerned in a mighty fashion.

Mawmaw! That place is not far no drunks.

“It’s far homicidals and suicidals and people whose heads ain’t right what trysta hurt themselves and others.

“Don’t worry; it ain’t far drunks.”

This was all delivered without a hint of sarcasm.

Even today, two full days later, all I can do is marvel. This kid is locked up on a juvie mental ward, is a danger to society, is about to be sent somewhere with crazier, even more dangerous people, and she’s worried about it being full of yay-hoos with the DTs….instead of being worried about something like, ohhh, him learning far more deviant behavior.

Makes me wanna use the Lord’s name in vain, y’all.

Parents: We actually say these asinine things. You force us to, kids.

Circa last night:

“HELLO!!? I asked you people a question, and it wasn’t ‘Hey, will you please bicker amongst yourselves for an interminable amount of time so as to drive me the full rest of the way over the edge and into the swirling darkness of complete insanity?’”