There is a woman who has been sitting next to me for about 10 minutes and her huge tongue has been sticking all the way out of her mouth the entire time. She yelled something at me, but when I looked over, she was looking at the seat next to her and stroking it.
Just now, a younger man got on and sat in front of me. She shouted: “ooo onna iieee” at him and moved to the back of the bus. I think she was predicting his death. He looked confused and got off at he next stop.
I just boarded an almost empty bus, about half way to the back, a small asian man with a thick accent and a bright orange Home Depot baseball cap flagged me down. “Here!” he stuck his hand out as if to shake or possible
so that I could slip him a low five.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit!” he motioned to the seat next to him.
I squinted at him, “and who are you?”
“Yes,” he grinned widely and turned to face the front of the bus.
Four stops later, a tweaker in a beanie got on smuggling what smelled like 20 pounds of weed and carrying a a brand new woman’s curling iron.
Update: The asian man followed me off the bus to my transfer stop and introduced himself as Hong. When I refused to give him money, he pissed on the side of the bus shelter and left.
Man (loudly) : Hay bus driver, how are you?
Driver: Fine, fine.
Man: I can’t wait to get to Hawthorne.
Driver: Oh yeah?
Man: Yeah.
Man: Hay, do you like popcorn?
Driver: Uh… yeah?
Man (begins digging through backpack): I think I gots some in here for ya somewhere.
Driver: Ahh… Oh, no, no thanks.
Man: What? You don’t want no popcorn?
Driver: No thanks, sir.
Man: I can’t wait to get to Hawthorne.
Streaks smeared on the floor,
Assault my reeling senses,
Urine burns my nose.
I just learned that no matter how angry your scowl, no matter how deep your pimp-limp and no matter how many gang tattoos you have crammed onto your neck, it is impossible to look hard while carrying a giant, day-glo diaper bag.
A woman is loudly and tonelessly belting “Jesus loves me, yes I know, because the bible tells me so” at a complete stranger’s toddler.
The man across the isle from me is aggressively soliciting the old lady sitting next to him for medical advice about his rash.
One of the more controversial steps I am taking in my insane quest to die under a palm tree is to pare down my belongings to 100 things. I am not the originator of this idea, nor am I the first person to do it. I’m pretty sure that this guy named Dave came up with it, but I think it’s a pretty swell plan.
My life has about three nexuses of stuff that are actually important to me. My desk at home contains the things I use the most. In the event that my house caught fire and was going to burn down to the ground, if I could just get my desk out, I’d be fine. My desk has my computer, my USB sticks, my Ukulele, my phone, my nook, a flashlight, my allergy medication, my change box and other assorted miscellany. My bedroom closet has my clothes in it. My medicine cabinet contains my toiletries.
Then, there is the rest of my house: a wasteland of shit. No, not a wasteland–an ocean. Useless crap ebbing and flowing around my house and my life. “Cleaning” is the word I use for taking that crap and moving it from one place it doesn’t belong to some other place it doesn’t belong. I do this because a lot of it doesn’t belong anywhere. Some of the things I own are “decorative.” Decorative items are items that take up space on flat surfaces–surfaces that could house items that actually have some sort of useful function. As if space weren’t at a premium. As if with this surplus of shit, I can afford to just have a bunch of stuff that doesn’t do anything but sit around, take up space and look awesome.
There are two common questions about the 100 Thing Challenge that everyone who takes it must answer for themselves: what is a “thing,” and what are “my things?”
One guy who says that he made it down to 50 “things” is counting all of his socks as one “thing.” I’m not doing that. I’m trying to sort of abstractly but fairly strictly balance a “thing” between a single unit of useful stuff (e.g. one pair of socks, or “my computer,” which consists of my computer, keyboard, monitor and other necessary accessories,) and a single unit of shit that I have to deal with owning. Rather counter-intuitively, between a pair of socks and my computer, counting the pair of socks as a single item is cheating more than the computer is by these definitions. The computer sits there. It’s always hooked up, stationary and useful as a unit. Socks, on the other hand, are none of these things. Those god damn things are everywhere.
The second question, “what are my things,” is a little harder to define in my opinion. Many things in this house are communal in nature. Kitchenware, for instance. I feel no desire to include spatulas among my personal effects, though eventually I would like to pare down these communal items as well. I have elected to include several of these communal items among my personal items, though. I am including a set of personal dishware in my list of 100 things to cut down on the dish clutter in our house.
At heart, I’m a conflicted being. I am a collector, I admit it. I also suffer from But-What-If-I-Need-It-Later syndrome. On the other hand, I’ve no problem sorting out what has utility and what does not or what I use and what I do not use. I’ve read articles about the 100 Thing Challenge that suggest that a person take a month or two to sort out the things they want to keep from the things that they want to get rid of. I made the following list in about twenty minutes.
Total 95
# Things
-----------------
1 Computer
1 Phone
1 Nook
1 Laptop
2 USB sticks
1 MicroSD Card and Adapter
1 printer/scanner
1 canned air
7 pairs of socks
3 pairs of jeans
5 underwear
1 scarf
10 T shirts
2 hoody
2 pairs of shorts
1 swim trunks
2 coats
1 flipflops
1 boots
1 clogs
3 hats
1 Wallet
2 Sweatpants
1 Longjohn bottom
1 Longjohn top
2 Button up shirts
1 Bandanna
1 razor
2 electric razor
1 deodorant
1 hair wax
1 toothpick
1 ear cleaner
1 tooth brush
1 towel
1 Shampoo
1 knife
1 fork
1 spoon
1 bowl
1 plate
1 glass
1 Coffee People coffee mug
1 ukulele
1 backpack
1 bag
1 pocket knife
2 pens
1 umbrella
1 Kukri
2 Pillows
1 Stuffed bunny
1 change box/cup/container
1 Framed Chat Noir poster
1 Grand-ma's Coo-coo clock
1 Bike
1 Skateboard
1 wedding ring
5 Books
Now, here is the rather anti-climactic twist I am adding to the equation. Because I am only going to own 100 things, I am treating myself to some new stuff.
Whenever I buy a new gadget, I am very methodical about how I do it. I have always had a limited budget for new toys, so I make sure that every single one I buy is perfect. My computer, I built myself. I picked every single part to maximize the effect of my buying power. No bits I didn’t need, but nothing too over-the-top. I made sure I bought as many items on sale as I could manage. In the end, I saved hundreds of dollars and got myself a computer that was way better than the price I paid for it.
So, I figure why make every item I own the same way? Why not have 10 pairs of perfect socks? Why not have two really awesome pens? So, I’m going to do some research and catalog my “perfect things” as I find them. Many of the things I already own will be going on this list, but I can’t help but feeling that my list of personal effects could use some sprucing up.
I just had a fantastic idea for a spin-off for Glee.
Most of the time I sit watching Glee, I’m questioning why I’m sitting watching Glee. For the most part, I hate the characters and I want them all to perish. Then, oddly, I find myself pulling for them to break through the thin veil of First World problems that seem to constantly hover between them and the shallow happiness of recognition and validation they so desperately seek. Then I experience a rush of self loathing. Then I go back to wanting them all to perish.
Except Brittany, of course. Brittany is Amazing.
I also spend a lot of time wondering what the poor, ignored, band geeks must feel like. How can they stand listening to these whiny bitches for hours on end, every single day and not slap the living shit out of them? What sort of problems do they face? Are they as trite? Probably not, or they would likely be just as loud and obnoxious about them as their singing, dancing counterparts. No, those band geeks have real problems.
Then it hit me: those geeks are international secret agents.
It all makes sense now.
The premise for the show is that the Band, code named G.L.E.E. (Global League of Executive Enforcement,) headed up by their fearless leader Brad the Piano Player Guy, is actually a top secret paramilitary organization that answers directly to the President of the United States (played by Gary Busey,) sent to Ohio to fight a ruthless secret organization hell bent on world domination. This group will be, unbeknownst to G.L.E.E., secretly headed up by the nefarious Elektra Skorpio (code name: Emma Pillsbury.) The only person to suspect this will be a rogue operative and mercenary, code named: CHEERIO. Emma Pillsbury will secretly work to destroy the band as they feverishly attempt to uncover her identity. Her love affair with the knappy-headed Will Schuester is just a cunningly contrived cover–her loathing for him knows no bounds and is the basis for several musical solos that attest to that fact.
With the exception of Brittany, none of the other main characters from the original show will actually suspect that anything unusual is happening at their high school. Brittany will play the lead role, starting as a normal (if slightly retarded) cheer leader, just as she is portrayed in Glee. She will accidentally stumble upon the G.L.E.E. secret base under the floor of the music room and be thrust into a world of intrigue, betrayal and other nefarious goings on.
This will explain why she joined Glee (to be closer to the band geeks and their secret lair.)
The original Glee series will be analyzed and re-filmed so that the parts where the band geeks are visible in the show are blocked to be filmed in the exact same spots in a new episode that they were in the original. The timelines for the shows will coincide exactly.
All of the camera work will focus on the band. The original Glee cast will reprise their original roles, but will be more or less silent other than singing and dancing in the background. All of their loud, pedantic conversations about their bullshit problems will be replaced with something similar to the sound that the teacher makes in the old Peanuts cartoons.
The band geeks will use sub-vocal mics to communicate and plot their strategies for defeating whatever crazy plot they face that week while they play their instruments and the annoying kids sing and dance in the background. They will use the combined noise to assure that their conversations can’t be listened in on by covert surveillance.
Brittany will end up as a full member of the G.L.E.E. task force. The show will end when Emma Pillsbury forces G.L.E.E. choose between rescuing the Glee Club from a burning house or stopping her ultimate plan. They will, of course, be forced to sacrifice the Glee Club to the flames for the greater good.
The last musical number will be Burning Down The House by the Talking Heads.
It’s been a while since I’ve updated this blog of mine. Over a year, actually. But, some interesting things have happened to me since last I posted, and I’ve decided to re-purpose this blog to chronicle my attempts to flee the United States for warmer climes. My wife, son and I (along with one of my best friends) are going to attempt to move to the Island nation of Palau in a little less than a year. There are a number of reasons we want to leave, but I won’t bore you with all that. Long story short: we need a change of scenery.
Why Palau? First: my friend (whom I shall refer to as “O”) has family from there. Third: it’s absolutely effing gorgeous and D: it’s not here.
We’re going about moving to Palau in a rather circuitous manner. First, we’re divesting ourselves of nearly all our shit. Personally, I am taking the 100 thing challenge, which I will post about in more detail later on. Next, we’re moving into a garage. All three of us. Because we’re fucking idiots. And also because it’s going to be very, very cheap. This will allow us to save money for the ridiculously expensive air fare and help O save money as well, because it’s his garage. Win win win.
Finally, we’ll pack away what few things we have left that we don’t want to take with us and pull the eject lever. Phase two involves probably building a house, possibly buying a sailboat and definitely getting a suntan. I’m sure scuba lessons are in my future, too.
Meanwhile, I need to concentrate on getting rid of all my shit and procuring the things I need before we go. We also need to build a shed, which will store the things in O’s garage while we’re occupying it, and then we need to insulate and drywall and paint the inside of the garage before we move in. We’re also considering collecting cheap or free materials here to build our house over there and then shipping them, but we still have to figure out which way will be cheaper. Shipping materials over-seas doesn’t sound like it’s the most environmentally friendly solution, but depending on the cost of shipping , it may be our best option by a long shot.
So, in short I’ve decided to make my blog into a diary of our attempt to move into a garage and further our attempt to move to paradise and then, possibly, a chronicle of the things we do when we get there including (hopefully) building an energy independent, highly efficient home. More for myself later on down the road than anything else, but if other people decide to read too, all the better.
This is a model of the inside of our new abode that that my wife made in Google Sketchup.
That’s all for now, more on my “100 things” later.
