On the lake, the heat's creeping up like a stalking cat, its fur crawling with boat-shaped fleas.

Damn right.

{and also}

Is it out yet? Huh? Huh? Now? How 'bout now?

I miss Nick@Nite reruns of Patty Duke.
Is that so wrong?

"But they're cousins, identical cousins..."

There's an unapproachable beauty in the black and whites of TV's pre-reality days, and it breathes with innocence and silliness, and I miss it miss it miss it.

Not that I experienced it firsthand. My oldest non-reruns were Smurf flavored and Cheers tainted (oh, the eighties child I am). But being the child of fairly do-as-you-will-as-long-as-you-don't-hurt-yourself parents, I had access to cable tv in my bedroom early on. At age 11, 12, on school nights at 1 am, you could find me propped on my elbows at the foot of my bed, one ear listening for the opening of my parents' door across the hall and the other straining to hear the low-volumed theme songs I knew by heart.

"...One pair of matching bookends, different as night and day."

My guilty pleasures were relics, weird moving images of things that didn't even exist in their own time... talking horses, next door neighbor witches, identical cousins. And I loved them, still do.

All the world really needs any more is more Nick@Nite. I promise you that.

I've been thinking that I haven't been thinking enough, and frankly that has to stop. So, while we wait for my brain to percolate and in lieu of actual thoughts...

Welcome again to the phenomenon that is my random rambling. I'd like to take a few moments to go over the safety procedures:

We may experience some boredom, in which case you may need to deploy the Turn Head And Look Away technique.

If at any time we encounter mental turbulence, repeat to yourself this simple mantra, "She's not making sense, but it's to be expected." Eventually I say something coherent, and we'll return to our regularly scheduled babble.

And always remember, your seat may be used as a flotation device.

A Malibu and coke has a different taste on a Tuesday night. It's tempered with boredom and tainted by solitude.

See, I have this weekend on Tuesday and Wednesday on account of temporarily weird work scheduling, and tonight's Saturday-flavored Tuesday finds me nursing a rum and coke in the company of an apathetic black cat, a broken magic eight ball, and the silent digital world at large.

And this drink tastes like water.

2900 miles there and back from Las Vegas, Nevada to Valley City, North Dakota - a side trip into Fargo, and a detour through Butte. 51 hours in backseats and front seats, at roadside Arby's and Conoco's.

There's a point, somehere just east of Bozeman, Montana, where the mountains crawl back into the earth and beige grasslands unfurl in every direction like a waveless sea. Somewhere, maybe just east of that, I knew.

Not every place that's green is beautiful. Not every body of water sparkles. Not everything I believed is true.

But the trip was well worth it. Valley City, with it's cute old houses, tree-lined streets, fantastically small mini golf course, and not a single McDonald's - it's a happy little green memory...
But it is nice to be back in the arms of these brown mountains...

Leaving today for the frozen land of Neighdor... oh, I mean... Valley City, North Dakota. Camera and iPod are bundled up for the trip. And I, well, I just wish we were taking it a little slower so I could enjoy the change in scenery.

But as it is, I'll be back on Tuesday, hopefully, with some good shots and stories in tow.

(And oh, looks like my computer's back to normal, for now. And I didn't even have to hit it with a sledgehammer. ! )

[From a computer other than my own.]
(Oh hey, it's Cinco de Mayo. Fun.)

You ever watch a scoop of ice cream fall off a cone and sickeningly splatter on the hot pavement? Well that's kind of how I feel about my computer right now... Changing cases probably wasn't the best of ideas, come to think of it. And now the thing's gone from Sunday's "Uh, yeah... that doesn't look right" to today's "Yep, I killed it." I only have hopes of retaining my two media drives, but who knows...

In the meantime, that's where I am - in non-computer limbo.

Amazing how quickly the withdrawal sets in.

Argh.

Now Playing - Smashing Pumpkins - La Dolly Vita

A Sunday morning song if ever I've heard one. I think this song's defining moment happened on an April morning around 11:00. Nearly every song I love has one defining moment, a moment when I was listening to it and that situation, that environment, became a snapshot for the song, attached as though paper clipped to it every time I would hear it afterward. Well for this song, it was a Sunday morning in April of 1997. I was driving home from a church rummage sale I had gone to with Jenni. My windows were down. The air was a clean, crisp 72 degrees. A grocery bag full of vintage t-shirts (for a bargain at 50 cents for the lot of them) sat on the passenger seat beside me. As I drove down Wyoming street, a street that gets progressively greener as you get nearer to my parents' house, a man was mowing his lawn as his little girl played with a sprightly little white dog in the driveway. And La Dolly Vita played on the air, the cool spring air...

I'm convinced. The true test of how highly you're thought of among others is the response you get after a haircut. Cut your hair off; go see what I mean.