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Friday, September 30, 2005

:::.... This morning after being told good-bye from Jenny, I heard the door shut and a few minutes later I heard it open and close again followed by "Oh man."

"Baby?", I called out. "What's wrong?"

"Can you come here for a second?"

I untangled myself from the sheets and went into the living room. There I found her with two skinned knees. Again. I disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with peroxide, ointment, and a band-aid.

"That one's not big enough...Get one from the first-aid kit. I don't want blood on my pants."

"What happened? You just fell down the stairs? And why are you wearing shorts to work?"

"I missed the last step. I'm not wearing shorts. I pushed my pants up so I don't get blood on them."

I patched her up and watched her leave again. On her way out I noticed the strings of her iPod hanging down. That's what you get for be-bopping down the stairs toward your sunny four blocks to work while everyone else is stuck in traffic for an hour.


Thursday, September 29, 2005

:::.... Last Wednesday after driving around town looking for an ice chest before Rita hit, I walked in the door just in time to catch the last ten minutes or so of the show Lost. It was around the part where Jack's ears are assaulted by some totally random song from the late '60s or early 70's. I was so caught up in the moment. It was so perfect. He's standing there holding a flashlight and looking around at these antiquated computer towers wondering what the fuck is going on. I sat there secretly falling in love with the song blaring around him while trying to guess who sang it. It sounded a little like ABBA, but we all know ABBA sucks so it must be someone else. After the same episode aired again last night I decided to poke around a bit and learned the song is called "Make Your Own Kind of Music" by none other than Cass Elliot of The Mamas and the Papas. I'm downloading right now. I can't wait to find it on vinyl so I can listen to it in all of its snap, crackle, and pop glory.


Tuesday, September 27, 2005

:::.... I posted the few pictures I took while we were out on our bikes to flickr. I created a second account since when I started uploading photos to the first one, I chose some of my "better" photos and people began adding me to their contact lists. This made me feel pressured to post only what I thought were my most "artistic" photos. I had raised my own bar and didn't even mean to. Gone was my little window of uploading goofy photos of whatver I felt like. Everything had to measure up to what was already there. As a result, I haven't posted anything there since like, December.


Saturday, September 24, 2005

:::....We have survived Rita. In fact, we didn't see much action at all. If hurricane Rita were a flu, we felt a sneeze. We went to sleep (at the foot of the bed, away from the window) around midnight and didn't hear much of anything through our double-pane windows except some wind. We woke up this morning with no loss of power and a yard full of birds and squirrels picking through the leaves and other debris scattered about. We were lucky. Very lucky.

Later we hopped on our bikes to check out the sights and were met with many other people on bikes doing the exact same thing. We saw a twenty-something guy steering with one hand and carrying a twelve pack of beer in the other. Other than that, it was basically the same thing all over town. Tree limbs and leaves littering the streets. The few cars we saw had people who seemed to be driving around restlessly with nowhere to go. There were only a handful of places open...A Pappa John's pizza, a convenience store, James Coney Island, and a couple of gay bars. Tonight should be interesting as cabin fever really sets in. It's Saturday night you know. And I imagine a lot of people aren't the homebodies we are, needing nothing more than a computer and a library of DVDs to stay thoroughly entertained the whole evening.

Right now Jenny is curled up in blanket reading a book. I think I will go sit on top of her until she yells at me. OK, maybe just a little cabin fever here.

Photos tomorrow.



I snapped a few photos which I will post sometime tomorrow.


Friday, September 23, 2005

:::.... We've secured 10 1-gallon bottles of water, 2 ice chests, a first aid kit, food, batteries, a radio, plastic bags, toilet paper, wet wipes, and paper towels. I had to use some clever thinking to locate the water, D batteries and an extra flashlight. You can get shot on the street for this stuff.

In addition to our food stock, Jenny has boiled a half dozen eggs and later I will brew coffee to store in jars so that I will not have to endure the heat with a splitting headache for however many days we will be without power.

We've taped up the windows and fitted each other with trash bag ponchos, and tonight we will take one last shower before filling up the bathtub and going to bed knowing that around 5 or 6:00am all hell will break loose.

We have some wine, but the idea of waking up on Saturday morning hungover and dehydrated with no power is enough for us to keep it corked.

If you are in the area, take care.


Saturday, September 17, 2005

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Today the kitchen became a printmaking factory. I worked on ebay stuff with Jenny calling out "Pick up!" from the other room every few minutes.

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Then I would retrieve three or four cotton drawstring bags and hang them on one of two lines strung between the cabinets.

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The screens weren't printing right, so we had 45 stamps made up earlier this week. We cleaned the ink off in the bathtub.


Wednesday, September 14, 2005

:::.... Did you know the song, "Live and Let Die" by The Beatles is actually by Paul McCartney? And it's the theme song from the James Bond movie of the same name?

Liar.

And did you know that song by Carly Simon entitled, "Nobody Does it Better" is also the theme song of the James Bond flick, The Spy Who Loved Me?

Liar.

And did you know Louis Armstrong and Nancy Sinatra both sang vocals on two other James Bond movies? Speaking of James Bond and spy stuff and guns...I bought a pellet gun off ebay a few weeks ago which is funny because I've never shot anything more than a squirt gun in my life. I found it in the mail a few minutes before meeting Jenny at her office one day. She was taking photos on the second floor when I took the box into the break room and tore into it. I couldn't figure out how to load the pellets so I made Jenny come down and skim the instructions. In a matter of minutes I was armed. I was actually pretty nervous holding a loaded weapon and held it firmly at my side while walking across the breakroom to the endless targets in the backyard. She works in an older house with a driveway and a garage and a mailbox...First target. A direct hit.

"It didn't explode" piped up one of her co-workers, referring to the pellet.

"It's plastic", I noted.

After shooting at various targets, including tree limbs since nothing much was around, I realized it didn't have much power at all. This is bad. It brings out my tendency to shoot my own arm or foot to test it. I catch myself testing things that look somewhat harmful, but totally dangerous to other people every once in a while. It started when I was around 13. My dad had cut the cord to my stereo and spliced it back together. While staring at a small section of exposed wire, I decided to touch it, giving myself a little shock. These urges can be almost uncontrollable. Before I know what I'm doing, I've touched the end of a hot wire used to cut styrofoam in art class. It didn't hurt. I didn't think it would. But I have to make sure. The other day while holding down the little button on the washer with the lid open, I observed how fast the spin cycle goes. Of course I had to touch the side to see what would happen. Nothing. The plastic rim on the side only appears to moving at the speed of light. It's not moving at all. But I had to know. Does anyone else do this?


Friday, September 02, 2005

:::.... There is the Astrodome and Reliant Stadium. And down the road a ways there is the George R. Brown Convention Center. And somewhere in the middle is us. I'm sitting here having a gin and water and thinking about how our city is suddenly full of thousands and thousands of refugees. All somewhat contained somehow. But for how long? What will happen to them all? Where will they go? Their city is in ruins. I should be doing something. Instead of sitting here watching the news with that feeling you get when it's storming outside and your safe and dry in your home. I'm one of those weirdos that sees a photo of a bus full of dogs headed this way and wants to buy a huge bag of food. I don't have enough money to make a difference for a cash donation. The woman on TV says they have food up to the ceiling from other like-minded people. All of these homeless people and I wonder who will feed the dogs left behind. Maybe it's just too enormous to grasp. Maybe if I drove a mile over to the Astrodome and walked inside and saw the cots. The despair. The hopelessness. I've heard of volunteers having their cars stolen. People are capable of anything when they have lost everything.

My sister's husband has donated two units that can transform even pond water into drinking water. They can each purify 250 gallons a day. That's making a difference.

I'm just sitting here doing nothing.


* DomeBlog

"Describing how one weary man became frustrated while waiting in line for provisions, Eric said this is just one example of what some are encountering.

This man waited in a long line only to have a volunteer hand him a jock strap with a seemingly apologetic look on his face.

Unpeturbed, the evacuee said:

'As long as it's clean, I'm happy.'"


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