March 17th, 2005

breeden

(no subject)

It's slushing here. There's not really a word for this combination of rain, sleet, snow, and sporadic hail, other than "Ugh!" All the little birds have that bedraggled snowed-on look, and all the squirrels are covered in damp spikes, the way your eyelashes get in the rain, only covering their entire bodies. If there was some lift to the spikes, they'd look punk, but instead they just look soggy.

The wettest I think I've ever been--a sort of bone-deep, pervasive wetness that massively transcended the mere wetness that you get from, say, swimming--was this time, many years ago, when James and I were at a friend's house, took acid, and walked home. It was a good walk, myabe three miles, but this sort of thing doesn't bother you when you're tripping.

Except that it rained.

And rained.

And rained.

It was spring in Minnesota. We were wearing trenchcoats. I was wearing a WOOL trenchcoat. It's a good thing I was higher than the pope, because I was lugging around probably twenty pounds of soaking wet wool. James and I giggled and sploshed our way most of the way home, fascinated by the swirling rivers in the gutters, then stopped in to see a friend who combined the best traits of petty thug and Jewish mother. He freaked out, perhaps worried we'd die of exposure in his living room, and threw our coats in his dryer, and made us towel off, and thus my memory of a really bone-deep sogginess is intertwined with the memory of watching MTV's animated run ofThe Maxx.

I don't really miss those days, to be honest--I have less time, but more money, and I like to think that my sense of slightly bedraggled wonder is mostly intact--but what I DO miss is the body. If I did something like that now, I'd be laid up for two days from the hangover and a week from whatever attacked after such an immune system shattering event. Hell, I feel a cold coming on just watching the poor soggy little squirrels.

I think I'll give 'em an extra ration of sunflower seeds. Nobody should have to go out on a day like this.
breeden

(no subject)

NPR is talking about the baseball steroid thing before Congress again.

Before Congress.

Okay, I don't get this at ALL. Somebody, explain to me. It's baseball. I could have sworn we were at war with somebody, and there was some humanitarian crisis somewhere, and I vaguely recall hearing something about oil topping $56 a barrel. And Congress is worried about...baseball.

I don't do sports. If baseball stopped tomorrow, I wouldn't much care. Now, I am fully willing to grant that there are people who care deeply about baseball. And that is fine. More power to 'em. Me, I care deeply about wombats, but I do not expect Congress to take the matter up. Congress, I have generally assumed, has bigger fish to fry. With things that...y'know...affect the country, and stuff. Sure, lots of people get worked up about baseball. Lots of people got worked up about the Star Wars movies, too, but nobody called George Lucas before the Senate to demand to know why the prequels suck like a Hoover.*

WHY is Congress worried about baseball? What the heck? This baffles me utterly. Is there some historical doodad at work here that says "Hey, Congress is the ones who administers baseball matters?" This is the only explanation I can come up with. Otherwise, it's like demanding the government hold hearings on whether or not somebody in Hollywood is a method actor, or whether Stephen King is using correct grammar. It's entertainment. It's not, y'know, important.

Is it completely out to lunch that I wanted my elected officials to deal with, oh, wars, and drilling for oil in caribou country, and tax reform and abortion rights, and, y'know, things that are not entirely frivolous? Am I missing some way in which baseball is crucial to the function of the nation? Why is this happening? I don't mean just to whine about baseball here, although that's obviously part of it, I'm genuinely curious--why the heck is Congress involved in such a thing? It just doesn't make sense to me that the government gets involved in entertainment industry matters.


*Not that they shouldn't have...
breeden

(no subject)

Whew.

Painter fought me every step of the way, like an angry barracuda in a sack, but I beat it into submission with my shoe. This is the result.

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/16200971/


And, 'cos what the hell, limited edition prints available. $45 for a 13 x 19, run of 10 and one artist proof. (Rowyn, because it's so damn weird, please don't feel obligated to buy one as you offered--but if you'd still like it, #1 is all yours.)

And now I'm going to go fall over and hopefully not have dreams anything like this.