I think it would suck to have this

'They call it hyperthymestic syndrome, based on the Greek word thymesis for "remembering" and hyper, meaning "more than normal.'

What would it be like to remember everything? The woman in this article is anonymous, but they describe her a little bit. She's described as normally functioning, not like a savant who can memorize a dictionary but can't live on her own, can't take care of herself.

I have a poor memory at times, but I don't mind. It sounds like she can't forget. Wouldn't it be better if things faded with time?

more clicks

http://www.hipstercards.com/
http://www.oprah.com/spiritself/ss_landing.jhtml
http://www.uncommongoods.com/
http://www.lofiliving.com/
http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/
http://www.damnhellasskings.com/
http://www.upsaid.com/eurotrash/index.php
http://www.irregulartimes.com/irregularribbons.html
http://www.bookrags.com/ebooks/968/107.html
How to do an intervention
http://www.literaturepage.com/
http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?articleID=0001F172-55DA-1C759B81809EC588EF21&ref=sciam
http://imaginarysocialite.com/
http://www.reason.com/0512/co.mw.they.shtml (shooting at helicopters)

For your clicking delectation

I made this list a long time ago, so I apologize if any of the links are dead. I will prune later.

http://www.superbad.com
http://www.turnerclassicmovies.com/schedule/index/
http://www.reason.com/
http://www.wahm.com/under.html
http://www.doubletongued.org/
http://www.freestoryideas.com/
http://bunsen.tv/
http://craftster.org/
http://www.fussy.org/
http://getcrafty.com/

A departure

Not, I think, what people are used to reading on this blog. So?

From Marie Claire's pages on iVillage.com. Good advice for hair, eye-roll-inducing advice on choosing dresses. Yeah, empire waist. Fabulous idea. "So, when are you due?" Not a style that works for me, at any size. iVillage is a massive site, with advice and articles ranging from useful and insightful to pathetic and demeaning. Too many pop-ups ( I know, I should just block them, but I got my reasons), and articles are cut into little pieces so you have to hit the next page button 3 times to read a 500 word article.
It's amazing how these magazines can recycle the same content over and over, with seasonal and trend changes the only variation. Indulgent recipes followed by restrictive diets. Articles about self esteem and self sufficiency followed by articles how to interpret your new hottie's boxer shorts and all the things guys love (uh, blow jobs & women who love sex are usually high on the list) and all the things that are total deal breakers (women who love sex, the dirty whores that they are).

I don't remember where I found this but I like it, don't you? I like Byron, "mad, bad, and dangerous to know," as ex-ladyfriend called him. I've been in a poetry mood lately, but to paraphrase Austen, I venture to recommend myself a larger allowance of prose in my daily study.

The local rag

The paper has had these scattered little ads for the past couple of years, in keeping with their "Miss a day. Miss a lot." campaign.

They have questions like What are the headlines in tomorrow's St. Cloud Times? and You sold your car how?
You placed your ad how?
I carved it onto the back of a dead prostitute and dumped her outside the building at 2 a.m. Boy, were the distributors and delivery guys surprised!

They used to have a few in the classifieds that sounded potentially dirty or a little psycho. What did you have to do with who to get the job? Where did you find the shotgun hidden? Ok, those are fake, but you get the idea.

This paper has a notorious tin ear for headlines, ad campaigns, and the local columns are things of pure beauty - if you get a chance check out Rent Rants and Raves. (Can't find a permalink to these, sadly.) Am I being too harsh? I don't really care. I don't think the local media, such as it is, gets enough scrutiny. If all I'm capable of is petty mockery, then I owe it to the community to throw my two cents in.

Oh Swoon

So I fainted at work the other day. I was a little tired & I probably shouldn't have ask Doordolt so many questions about his spinal injections. It was interesting though. Fainting is kind of interesting too, as long as you don't bump your head or something. Had a weird dream, can't remember it. Usually it actually takes the site of blood for me to lose it, not just a description of a medical procedure. I looked up syncope on WebMD and called urgent care & talked to a nurse. It's not dangerous or anything, just a moral failing. They didn't say so, but I could read between the lines.

When passing out is described in books they don't get it right. Maybe for other people it's like that: Then blackness swallowed her. Then he knew no more. For me it was like waking up in the morning. Suddenly I was lying on the floor at work and D was shaking my arm. The weird things were I didn't know where I was right away, and I swear to god, I couldn't feel my arm until I saw it.

I know I'm doing well because people were giving me shit last night; for instance: my luck in avoiding the tender ministrations of certain co-workers in my vulnerable state. Thanks guys.

10:01

http://www.cafezeitgeist.com/1001.html

From Utne Web Watch
Interactive Story: 10:01
By Lance Olsen and Tim Guthrie, Cafe Zeitgeist
Originally published in Punk Planet, Lance Olsen's short story "10:01" followed the mind voyeurism of Milo, an employee at a movie theater in the Mall of America who could envision the thoughts of his film-going customers. The story's been reimagined as an online multimedia piece. Visitors can navigate the narrative in a variety of ways, reading moviegoers' thoughts by clicking on their seats or jumping around a timeline. -- Nick Rose

Does it seem like something's missing?

But you can't quite put your finger on it, because it's a blog post and it only existed in electronic form anyway?

I took down the post titled "Ew ick no" or words to that effect because I couldn't stand looking at it anymore. Just in case you were wondering. I take stuff down sometimes because I find it poorly written or embarassingly personal in retrospect.

Tripping

Some of us are going on a 4 day bender - I mean vacation - in Las Vegas. Does anybody wish to join us? You must be clean, responsible and well behaved. Ha. Or not.

Any recommendations of what to do, what to avoid, a cheap liquor store not far from the strip? I intend to go all-out touristy. If anyone wants a postcard, send me your address, in the great tradition of Voix. Except knowing me, I won't mail them til I get back.

I am going to celebrate all these holidays.

Who's with me?

from the Powells.com newsletter

We think May Day gets short shrift round these parts. While it may not be a clearly defined holiday — it is, in fact, a catch-all name for an assortment of often unrelated holidays, among them International Workers' Day, the Spring Bank Holiday in the U.K., Hawaii's Lei Day, Northern Europe's Walpurgis Night (with its delicious echoes of Dracula), the Celtic Beltane, and more recently, EuroMayDay — we just think dancing around a Maypole for any reason is the best thing ever.

TV Turn Off Week is Next Week

Screw that. I hate joining stuff. I only observe Buy Nothing Day because I'm poor. Do you know how backlogged my DVR would get? Wait, how about this compromise? Maybe I will just watch shows I previously recorded. And I'll cancel all the upcoming recordings unless it's like The Office or something.

Some television programs make for fine viewing yet are roundly abused; performances having only genius, wit, and taste to recommend them. Like a super good episode of a super good show? That's double-super good, and worthy of one's time. See how that works?

Some people prefer books, and I'm a bookworm myself, but have you been to a bookstore lately? There's plenty of printed material more craptabulous than The O'Reilly Factor, Two and a Half Men, and {insert your least favorite reality show here} put together.

Umberto Eco. The Island of the Day Before

"... Bundles of crazed meteors offer the counter-subject to the seditious aria shattered by thundering; the sky is an alternation of remote lights and downpours of darkness; and Roberto writes that he saw foaming Alps within wanton troughs whose spume was transfromed into harvests; and Ceres blossomed amid sapphire glints, and at intervals in a cascade of roaring opals, as if her telluric daughter Persephone had taken command, exiling her plenteous mother."

Ok, I think know what seditious means but I think I am missing something in this context. I also looked up telluric. Oh, believe me when I say there's other stuff I don't get in this snip of a paragraph. Those two words are capturing my attention particularly however.

tel·lu·ric
1. Of or relating to Earth; terrestrial.
2. Derived from or containing tellurium, especially with valence 6.

But but but. It seems he's saying Persephone is telluric in contrast with Ceres. So I look up Persephone. Oh dear. Per Wikipedia, Ceries is the Roman name of the Greek goddess Demeter, and Persephone is the Greek goddess and in Roman mythology is Proserpina. Huh. Whatever. Not sure if it matters. It's just one of a pile of metaphors, images and references.

Smoky treats

I have thought a lot about smoking, and not smoking and why lately. I have smoked on and off since I was 18. On weekends when drinking, before drinking, the day after the party, when I'm stressed, when I'm on break at work, when I'm bored, when there's a smoking break room at work, when I live alone and can smoke whenever and wherever I want.

Here's what got me thinking. I don't really want to smoke, but I really, really really like smoking. That is perhaps contradictory but true. The crux of the problem is that I don't want to like smoking. Last year I quit for over three months.

It's a sort of drowsy afternoon, can't think too much.

I've often wondered about this myself.

"...the idea of a sacred Judas always seemed rational to me, at least in Christian terms. The New Testament tells us firmly that Jesus went to Jerusalem at Passover to die and to fulfill certain ancient prophecies by doing so. How could any agent of this process, witting or unwitting, be acting other than according to the divine will?"

Christopher Hitchens
http://www.slate.com/id/2139781/

Peace in our times

Copied and pasted (and corrected) from a comment on another blog. I was driving down scenic 3rd Street in St. Cloud the other day and I saw two 10 or 11 year old girls waving a sign on the sidewalk. I thought early-season lemonade stand or garage sale, but no. Their sign said 'Honk for peace' and when I honked beep-beep-beep they screamed and cheered! I didn't hear any other honks. I bet some people flipped them off.

I wonder why they did it. I hope nobody yelled at them for liking peace.

Shake it shake it shake it girl; make sure you don't break it girl

Today's word of the day. ha.

Does thinking about death always have to be gloomy? I'd like to confine this discussion to one's own death, if you don't mind, because that's funner. But whatever. You can certainly comment in whatever manner you like.

Blogagaard once had a multi-part series about the meaning of life. This makes my brain itch, so I am not useful in a discussion of life's meaning. Perhaps death has a meaning. Life seems to be just about making more life, more human life specifically. All those adaptations to survive long enough to procreate and to make healthy offspring. So the offspring can do the same. Great. I don't think that's so much meaningful as an explanation. The traits that survive lead to more survival. And so forth. And we believe that there's some meaning to it because optimism and faith are somehow evolutionarily beneficial. This makes sense, but not meaning. This makes me roll my eyes at the universe.

What could be the meaning of one's own death? Since we don't know what happens afterwards, let's just look at what we can know. We know we will decay and nourish the earth; for some this will take longer because they are embalmed and encased and entombed. Did you know you can have cremated remains made into diamonds? That gives me the heebie jeebies but I can see why people might do it. Victorians used to use the hair of their dead loved ones in jewelry and paperweights and things.

You could say that death has a meaning in giving meaning to life; you know your time is limited even if you don't know when it will end so you try to live it well. When others die, we take stock of both their lives and our own. We may do the same when we have a brush with mortality like illness or an accident.

The mind rebels at the thought that it could end.

On the other hand, it is spring and the lilacs will blossom soon. There's air to breath and things to read so what does it matter if the universe is a big pointless mess?

These packets of freedom

and flavor. Kool-Aid singles. Dump two in a 20 oz bottle of water and enjoy. Or 1 Crystal Light to go, same thing. Grape or iced tea refreshment. It's so convenient, it's not merely convenient but decadent. There's even an off brand which is not only easy and delicious but relatively inexpensive.

I'm afraid I'll get soft and weak and be unable to mix normal tubs of drink mix with entire pitchers of water that I will then store in/retrieve from the refrigerator. Did our ancestors have misgivings when they first saw packets of crackers with an adjacent chamber of spreadable cheese and a small plastic stick with which the consumer might apply that cheese?

Did they avoid aluminum foil on a roll for a while, like I avoided Swiffer sweepers? Did they get the feeling that things were getting too easy, and we would have to pay for it, someday?

The results

What should aoasus name his blog?

givekylethetvinexchangeforhimmowingmylawnwhileimint
6 votes, 13%

My Penis, My Divining Rod
14 votes, 30%

A half empty bottle of white out
4 votes, 9%

itwasmythongyoujuststeppedon
2 votes, 4%

ihadaboat.andstillhaveamotorcycle.butmightbesellinghthattooificant
getitdowntodallastooeasily
7 votes, 15%

aoasus_but-not-the-kind-in-the-desert dot blogspot dot com
2 votes, 4%

godsavemefromthelonghorns dot blogspot dot com
1 vote, 2%

thundercougarfalconbird.blogspot.com
9 votes, 19%

wannaseemyoildrill dot blogspot dot com
2 votes, 4%

Total Votes: 47

Trying something out here:

Super Lion Energy Drink. 250 millileters of power.

Super Lion is a product of Malaysia. It (the drink, not Malaysia) looks and tastes like Red Bull, only more so and better, and it has an awesome pouncing lion on the can.

Feelings of indescribable whatever wash over me in purple melodious waves. Like an ocean of amber liquid lapping at the shores of omniscience. My heart goes thud thud thud in my head head head.

I feel as though the secrets of the universe should be unfolding before me, but they are not and that is fine with me. I don't want to be nosy with the universe, if it leaves me alone I won't bother it either. The brain-heart thudding transitions into a sort of pleasant balmy nausea. My soul is replete, the cubicle in which I sit extends to all corners of the state, bounded on the west by the cresting Red River between Katie & Erin's desks, the Mississippi slides through the middle then hooks right over Tara's stapler. It's too bad they aren't here to see this. It's fucking awesome.

I won't take any sass-talk today, no prevarications. But that would be strange. NO sass talk? What-so-whom-ever? No quasi-semi-lies? That seems unlikely. I will reconsider. But I will listen to the bullshit with an arrogant sneer on my face! That will help!

And it does. It works. It works and it helps and it works. It is good to be fooled, it is safe and comforting. And even though I don't really buy it, I have plausible deniability -- I know nothing! I see nothing! -- which is important.

Now I will eat my hot & sour noodle soup. It is the soup of righteousness and of valor. My blood pressure will be raised by a power of ten and I will cavort with angels and demons in a field of post it notes and red foam #1 fingers.

The nightlife

Last Saturday, I saw Al for the first time. Oh, I've seen him around before, probably. I must have. He's an eighty-four year old man who frequents area bars in a flame-printed shirt, cowboy boots and a large white plastic belt buckle inscribed AL and bordered with small red blinking lights. I just never noticed him before, never really saw him.

Ok, I've never seen him before. Or if I have, it was long forgotten, and the Al part of my brain was erased and rewritten with the leather jacket/karaoke dancing guy at the VFW, the Port Security jacket guy, or that methed-up chick I used to see all over town. But Al is back on the docket.

Al goes out dancing 3 nights a week. Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Saturday is his night for Legend's. His wife was a dance teacher, she passed away a few years ago. If my parents, in their early 60s had as much mobility and joie de vivre as Al does in his early 80s, (or perhaps slightly less, for the sake of decorum) I would be contented. He shimmies, he snakes across the floor, he works those hips with dismaying enthusiasm. He boot-scoots to classic rock, he winks at the girls.

I wonder how he got the belt. Did he make it himself? Was it a gift from an admirer? Are his grandchildren horrified? Does he realize he's encouraging the less-healthy and agile old people to go out and shake their booties and bump into me on the dance floor and creep me out by grinning and waving their long gray hands?

I didn't talk to him, I don't like strangers. But Marc chatted with him a couple of weeks ago, so he told me some stuff. Marc also pointed out a woman in a biker jacket & a short skirt. Her fishnet stockings kept slipping down, and it didn't seem like the visible top was part of the look, because she would stop dancing to hike the stockings back up, which was probably less sexy than the effect she was hoping to achieve. Marc is kind of a character himself you know; he emcees at a comedy club and he used to wear this terrible white tuxedo to the show. On Saturday he was wearing a t-shirt with a humorous play on the number sixty-nine and jeans and a sportsjacket.

So that was fun.

Logophilia

A bunch of Slate links

Naughty crossword, naughty NYT: I never thought about the origin of the word scumbag before. It's kind of ishy.

This article also links to another wordy article, about people who say 'literally' when they mean 'figuratively'. Apparently, it is a common failing and not so big a deal. This usage has always bothered and confounded me - they mean the opposite of each other! What use is it if antonyms become synomyms? I am not a proper speaker, myself. I always use borrow and lend interchangeably; I know that drives some people nuts. As a young child, 'itch' meant scratch and 'scratch' meant itch to me.

And finally, in 2003, Slate's Andy Bowers tried to guess what words of the current war will catch on. So far, the only one I see sticking is 'shock and awe'.

Why and what

If you voted for a blog name, would you care to share what you chose and why? Please do.

I like daylight savings time!

Not to brag or nothin, but it is still light out and I got done with work 40 minutes ago! This is quite nice, not an accomplishment by any means, but enjoyable.

Monday Monday can't trust that day.

I am doing 5 hours of overtime today! It makes me hyper. I'm getting slap happy and punchy and squirrely. I only have four hours left to my workday! Huzzah! Spaztastic.

Linkunday

Kitty Movie: Honey Bunny, auteur.
Here's a bunch of links from Gawker's Blogorrhea, and links that came from the links.
Death begins in the colon: Not as intestinally oriented as one might expect. Don't be disappointed like I was. :( But do read it.
Sell your dignity and watch a movie: This is what we may look forward to in a few weeks, dearest co-workers, and some are enjoying it now.
What's black and white and read all over: Good times, haven't read much of it but the blog name is provocative.
Knobboy: "We distort, you infer."

Also this is cool: Fake PSAs from The Office