What decade is this?

No one seems to have come up yet with a moniker for the decade we're in. The 20th century was conveniently divided into the 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, etc. But what do we call this time? The "Oh-Ohs"? That sounds a little too flippant. The first decade of the previous century was apparently called the "aughts"--as in, "I remember back in aught-seven, when Jebediah came home in his Stanley Steamer . . . ." But that sounds more than a bit archaic. The next decade will probably be called the "teens," though, as the corresponding decade was in the last century. Maybe we could call this decade the "pre-teens"? Too childish sounding, I suppose. How about the "zeros"? That has a nice ring to it, hmm? Anyway, happy new year.

The Interregnum

I like these weird days between the holidays, when time seems suspended. And this year, they're especially prolonged. (Because the holidays fall on successive Wednesdays, the break extends to two weeks for many people: Holiday Hiatus: 2 Workweeks Evaporate.) There's time to do many things that I usually put off, like maintaining my website and even cleaning up the disaster area that our condo has become. Today, though, I'm stuck babysitting my son and his two friends as they virtually beat up on each other via the PlayStation. Bang, crash, boom, expletive deleted . . . . How does the song go? "The most wonderful time of the year . . . ."

Paths to Nowhere



This is one of a series of photos I've taken, called Paths to Nowhere. You'll find a link to a slightly larger version of this image, and others as well, on my home page at Dream House.

Quote of the Day

"If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there."
--George Harrison

Middle Earth

Saw Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers today. Though I enjoyed it, I found it a somewhat odd experience. Usually a sequel film can also serve as a standalone movie, but not TTT. There's no prologue explaining the story so far, and the film ends without an ending. To be continued. I felt I was watching a three-hour excerpt from a nine-hour film, which is essentially what Two Towers is, I suppose. I suspect that, in the future, people will watch each segment one after the other, as a nine-hour DVD marathon. Or maybe whatever technology replaces DVD will allow all nine hours to be edited together on one disk. People will have a "Rings" day and watch it all at once. That would be the best way to enjoy this trilogy, I think. . . . By the way, does anyone know why this chunk of the story is called The Two Towers? There was only one obvious tower in the film . . . . A-

Questions

Is there anything as boring as the day after Christmas? The day when all the kids are complaining about having "nothing to do" as their toys and games litter the livingroom floor? Well, it's better to be bored than stressed, isn't it? Maybe. The worst feeling, of course, is simultaneous boredom and stress--the way I feel when I'm working sometimes. Give me plain old boredom any day.

Xmas Poem

Merry Xmas to all, and to all a good night. Here's a poem I wrote a couple of Xmases ago. It was originally published in Melic Review. Enjoy (I'm not always such a Scrooge . . .)

Fa La La

Red, green, red, green--
your lights nictitate like
arrogant cop cars,

making my eyes throb
as your garlands drip
Yule-shine onto the crust

of this decomposing snow.
All night you're dreaming of
the right Christmas--

gilded styrofoam,
tinsel and trash beneath a tree
of wires strung like nerves.

Let's admit that you're dying
to get it over with,
the frozen fa-la-la

for that suckling in the cow trough,
who will someday wander
the tepid Israeli hills

in dusty sandals,
knowing nothing
of such nonsense.

Question

Ever wonder about those people who spend $2.00 apiece on those little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards.
--George Carlin

Haiku 2,498: A cure for insomnia?

Perhaps I should read
Volumes of modern poems
Late at night in bed

Go with the flow

What makes people happy? You've heard the cliches: "follow your bliss," "go with the flow," "money can't buy happiness," etc. Turns out there's more truth to them than you might think:

Psychologists now know what makes people happy

My take on this is that happiness is always transitory. It's futile to aim for constant happiness--how would you know if you were happy if you didn't have any other mental state to compare it to? And, in my experience, trying to hold on to a feeling inevitably makes it slip away. Better to appreciate our moments of happiness and think of life as a melody of high notes and low notes. You have to let go of one note to hear the next.

Requiem for a Pencil

I do all of my writing with either a ball-point pen or a keyboard. I've never been particularly fussy about what I write with, as long as it gets the words on paper (or screen) and doesn't leak all over my fingers. Some writers are fussy about their instruments, though, and quite a few through modern history have preferred to use the Blackwing 602. Alas, this pencil is no longer being manufactured, though you can still find them on eBay--for about $20 a piece.

What's going on next door?

Is there anything more annoying than the Neighbor from Hell? (This is a saga about suburban tract-house neighbors. It can be even worse in an apartment building, let me tell you.)