Saturday, June 11, 2005
did I mention pink is my favorite color?
perhaps word has gotten around. someone at lloyd center mall seems to know- one of the toilet accessories in the bathroom matched my outfit. (it's the pee donut, or urinal lozenge- what do you call that thingy again?) how sweet of them! so who told them I was stopping in?
Friday, June 10, 2005
2600
that's funny. we weren't expecting anything. not much of anything, at least. but this was obviously a special night. here in portland it rarely snows on christmas. something magical seemed to fall from the sky, nonetheless.
it had landed in our living room- an impressive package, which took up half of the space under the tree. we knew little about it- other then that it was from my uncle- which was saying alot. you see, rumor had it that he was a millionaire from arizona. the package had likely been frisked by probing hands no less then a dozen times. shaken. weighed. it was known intimately by us- and not at all. wrapping paper can hide things like that sometimes. all we really knew about it was what we wished it was.
"all right. it's christmas eve. you kids can all open one present- or you can all open the big one together." within ten seconds, eight hands were shredded the paper- making short work of whatever bows or yuletide accessories were to be scorned by impatience. as we held the naked box up to the light, it was as though a pure beam of God's grace was unfolding thickly into our living room. and our eyes were glowing in it.
"ATARI 2600!"
I had heard of the atari 2600. in whispers. perhaps through the trees. I didn't know anyone with one. not yet. it was brand new. and would be for at least two months. for the first time (and perhaps only time), my family was on the cutting edge. we all sat and stared as though basking in the heat of a camp fire on a cold lonely night. we were like the survivors of some wreck thousands of miles from home. "careful." my brother took charge, making sure nobody bent the box or molested the instructions.
my parents stood nearby. they were smiling earnestly, like a pair of celestial beings witnessing the creation of life. and yet, they looked a little uncertain as to whether that life was to be friend or foe---lamb or snake. soon, all four of us kids were staring them down. our floating chatter had crashed into the rocks of reality. our floundering fears were searching for a compassionate rescue. we had a question to ask. a question that would change the course of our lives. forever. my sister represented our humble request thusly:
"can we get a TV now?"
and jolly laughter ensued...
---
it had landed in our living room- an impressive package, which took up half of the space under the tree. we knew little about it- other then that it was from my uncle- which was saying alot. you see, rumor had it that he was a millionaire from arizona. the package had likely been frisked by probing hands no less then a dozen times. shaken. weighed. it was known intimately by us- and not at all. wrapping paper can hide things like that sometimes. all we really knew about it was what we wished it was.
"all right. it's christmas eve. you kids can all open one present- or you can all open the big one together." within ten seconds, eight hands were shredded the paper- making short work of whatever bows or yuletide accessories were to be scorned by impatience. as we held the naked box up to the light, it was as though a pure beam of God's grace was unfolding thickly into our living room. and our eyes were glowing in it.
"ATARI 2600!"
I had heard of the atari 2600. in whispers. perhaps through the trees. I didn't know anyone with one. not yet. it was brand new. and would be for at least two months. for the first time (and perhaps only time), my family was on the cutting edge. we all sat and stared as though basking in the heat of a camp fire on a cold lonely night. we were like the survivors of some wreck thousands of miles from home. "careful." my brother took charge, making sure nobody bent the box or molested the instructions.
my parents stood nearby. they were smiling earnestly, like a pair of celestial beings witnessing the creation of life. and yet, they looked a little uncertain as to whether that life was to be friend or foe---lamb or snake. soon, all four of us kids were staring them down. our floating chatter had crashed into the rocks of reality. our floundering fears were searching for a compassionate rescue. we had a question to ask. a question that would change the course of our lives. forever. my sister represented our humble request thusly:
"can we get a TV now?"
and jolly laughter ensued...
---
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
hair cut
amie wears black rubber gloves when she does color. in one hand she wields a brush. in the other a little pointed object used for pushing and folding the tin foil. no- we weren't at a fancy barbecue- I was watching beth getting her hair done at dirty little secret salon. suddenly, I felt a bad joke coming on: "are you getting good reception on any radio stations over there?" beth managed a courteously cute smile, her posture slightly slumped and head neatly lined in folded pieces of aluminum. several pretty trails of her hair squished out between the straight rows of metallic folds.
I had already circled the room a couple times, spending a minute at each painting. so I got another glass of water and walked over to the coffee table. it's always covered in magazines. sifting through I noted an overwhelming presence of the glossy fashion types. but no national geographic. damn. I was hoping for a glimpse into the lives of the aquatic sea otters of madagascar. or pictures of a royal tomb of central america. or something. looking under one of the stacks I saw a nice book about frieda kahlo. it boasts pictures of a lion's share of her work. but I've already read it. finally, I set my sights on the spinning little rack of zines. the results: row 1- fashion. row 2- fashion. etc. *sigh*. finally, just when I was ready to give up all hope, I hit the jackpot---behind a row of womens' mags in row 3 was a collection of the far side! I sat down and within one minute had laughed out loud twice.
amie: "heh. wouldn't that be funny if you went out to lunch alone and just sat there and read a far side book? and laughed?
beth/me: "yes."
a: "that would be so funny. or if you were out to lunch and someone was sitting there just reading a far side book and laughing. that would be funny."
we agreed together. then the girls began respinning a web of conversation tightly wound with code words and perplexing nods. entire sentences seemed summed up in short-hand phrases and subtle gestures. I was so out of my league. I sat down at the other chair in amie's area of the salon. pushing off of the floor with my left foot I began spinning around. with a good push I could make several revolutions. by bringing my knees to my chest I could even create more speed. "speed tuck!'" "speed tuck!". getting up, I sauntered toward the wall, drunk on the swishing sensation along the sides of my head. the girls both giggled. then continued on. I wasn't trying to be disruptive. I honesty don't understand why more people don't spin in those chairs.
looking down, I noticed our hair on the floor. there was quite a bit of it. and it was difficult to tell ours apart. "our hair is mingling," I noted. I saw a broom and began sweeping it all together in one little nest. then I got a pretty sweet idea: the broom could be used in the chair to push off of the floor. I sat down and immediately began an endless parade of spins. the broom worked fairly well. now if only the bristles were a little stiffer---
b: "jon is a fidgeter."
a: "he's a fidgeter?"
j: "I'm not a---"
b: "he's just really kinesthetic."
a: "it's a good thing you've always had jobs were you're in constant motion."
j: "I can sit still for hours when I'm doing music."
I reached for my glass and took another healthy gulp of water. I really wasn't that thirsty. I just figured I had a little time to burn and potty breaks can yield adventures---as long as you're not afraid to use your imagination, that is.
---
I had already circled the room a couple times, spending a minute at each painting. so I got another glass of water and walked over to the coffee table. it's always covered in magazines. sifting through I noted an overwhelming presence of the glossy fashion types. but no national geographic. damn. I was hoping for a glimpse into the lives of the aquatic sea otters of madagascar. or pictures of a royal tomb of central america. or something. looking under one of the stacks I saw a nice book about frieda kahlo. it boasts pictures of a lion's share of her work. but I've already read it. finally, I set my sights on the spinning little rack of zines. the results: row 1- fashion. row 2- fashion. etc. *sigh*. finally, just when I was ready to give up all hope, I hit the jackpot---behind a row of womens' mags in row 3 was a collection of the far side! I sat down and within one minute had laughed out loud twice.
amie: "heh. wouldn't that be funny if you went out to lunch alone and just sat there and read a far side book? and laughed?
beth/me: "yes."
a: "that would be so funny. or if you were out to lunch and someone was sitting there just reading a far side book and laughing. that would be funny."
we agreed together. then the girls began respinning a web of conversation tightly wound with code words and perplexing nods. entire sentences seemed summed up in short-hand phrases and subtle gestures. I was so out of my league. I sat down at the other chair in amie's area of the salon. pushing off of the floor with my left foot I began spinning around. with a good push I could make several revolutions. by bringing my knees to my chest I could even create more speed. "speed tuck!'" "speed tuck!". getting up, I sauntered toward the wall, drunk on the swishing sensation along the sides of my head. the girls both giggled. then continued on. I wasn't trying to be disruptive. I honesty don't understand why more people don't spin in those chairs.
looking down, I noticed our hair on the floor. there was quite a bit of it. and it was difficult to tell ours apart. "our hair is mingling," I noted. I saw a broom and began sweeping it all together in one little nest. then I got a pretty sweet idea: the broom could be used in the chair to push off of the floor. I sat down and immediately began an endless parade of spins. the broom worked fairly well. now if only the bristles were a little stiffer---
b: "jon is a fidgeter."
a: "he's a fidgeter?"
j: "I'm not a---"
b: "he's just really kinesthetic."
a: "it's a good thing you've always had jobs were you're in constant motion."
j: "I can sit still for hours when I'm doing music."
I reached for my glass and took another healthy gulp of water. I really wasn't that thirsty. I just figured I had a little time to burn and potty breaks can yield adventures---as long as you're not afraid to use your imagination, that is.
---
