I haven't been able to write yet- and I'm not seeing any time in the future that I can be consistent for this month so.. I'm just going to bow out and join up another month.
I will, however, make an effort to read and comment on some of your all's entries.
Good luck everyone!
-CG
Monday, April 6, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
4/1 Foolish Intentions
It's after midnight on Thursday morning and I just got back from the opening show of the Leonard Cohen concert. At 6am this morning (err, yesterday morning) I was on a bike trainer spinning my heinie off.
My intent is to write something daily. Just something. Sometimes I will post to my non-project blog and link it to this site. Sometimes I will follow the topic. sometimes I'll do this- just write for the sake of writing.
I already have two music reviews to complete by the weekend and some soul searching to do. In addition to that I have: a Steven Lynch show, a Jerry Seinfeld show, a visit from my parents, an Alamo Drafthouse quote along, a one hour bike ride, a thirty minute run, a dinner date with my training buddies, and 1.5 hours of air scenting training with Johnny.
And that's just the stuff I know about.
My intent is to write something daily. Just something. Sometimes I will post to my non-project blog and link it to this site. Sometimes I will follow the topic. sometimes I'll do this- just write for the sake of writing.
I already have two music reviews to complete by the weekend and some soul searching to do. In addition to that I have: a Steven Lynch show, a Jerry Seinfeld show, a visit from my parents, an Alamo Drafthouse quote along, a one hour bike ride, a thirty minute run, a dinner date with my training buddies, and 1.5 hours of air scenting training with Johnny.
And that's just the stuff I know about.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
1/21 a walk with sherman
When I was somewhere around two and a half to three, I got to eat cake and ride in a police car all in the same day. I still consider those two activities key ingredients to a perfect evening- although its generally better when the cake follows the ride in the police car.
I don't remember the looks on my parents faces nor do I remember feeling like it was a big deal. What I remember is sitting on some lady's house eating chocolate cake and refusing a napkin.
I remember seeing Sherman's leather leash hanging by the door. I think I even remember looking up out the glass window in the door- through each of the four squares and thinking to myself that today would be a wonderful day for a walk. A walk with Sherman.
Sherman was the most perfect bulldog ever built. He was mostly white with some tan and black splotches placed randomly across his squatty body. Although he would later become dangerously aggressive with people outside the family, on this day, he was still a gentle soul. Gentle enough to allow a two and half to three year old girl clip a leash to his collar and wait eagerly by the door for a walk around the block.
I'm sure his dog tags jingled when I clipped him up. Then, without an indication to anyone else, we slipped out of the house and began our adventure. Now, I can't remember anything about the walk. My memory essentially goes from looking at the leash to eating cake- so I'll try to fill you in with information based on third party accounts.
Apparently we made it pretty far. I don't know about miles- but definitely blocks.
And blocks my parents would assume would be too far away for my two and half to three year old legs to take me. Come to think of it, I don't know if they realized I was missing before the got the phone call or not. I can imaging Sherman doing most of the leading- but never pulling hard enough to pull the leash out of my little hands. He would trot along and stop to sniff at trees and bushes- with that characteristic bulldog snuffle.
A neighbor lady saw us walking along and realized that although it was the early 1970's - long before kids were forced to play indoors for fear of pedophiles and shootings, two and a half to three year olds should probably not be walking large, albeit obedient, bulldogs unsupervised.
And again, because it was the early 1970's, there was nothing untoward about a perfect stranger inviting a child into her home for cake. In our family, we didn't start being quizzed on kidnapping scenarios until the early 80's.
So, at some point she gets me in the house, slices what I remember to be a giant piece of moist chocolate cake and calls the police.
The police man, demonstrating an advanced level of detective work, simply looked at Sherman's dog tags, found a phone number and called my parents. Okay so it may have been a little more than that. I don't know if they actually had their number on the tag- or if they had to pull the information from the rabies vaccination tag and look something up. So I'll cut the friendly stranger some slack.
Thus began the final part of my adventure- the ride home. I do remember pulling up to my parent's house in a car that was outfitted with lots more than the basic steering wheel and gear shifter. But I don't think they made me wear a seat belt. And they were probably smoking. Nah- I just made that part up.
I also don't remember the actual reunion very well. But to close it up I'll say that I don't think I got into too much trouble. I'm sure they made sure to keep better tabs on both Sherman and me. For me, however, it was just the beginning of many unauthorized explorations- creek crossings, tree climbings, fence hoppings. I didn't have Sherman there as either a rescuer or a co-conspirator for those adventures- but I'll always remember him as the catalyst.
Assignment Notes: In honor of what is arguably one of the best television shows ever made, write about a time you, or someone you love, was Lost.
I don't remember the looks on my parents faces nor do I remember feeling like it was a big deal. What I remember is sitting on some lady's house eating chocolate cake and refusing a napkin.
I remember seeing Sherman's leather leash hanging by the door. I think I even remember looking up out the glass window in the door- through each of the four squares and thinking to myself that today would be a wonderful day for a walk. A walk with Sherman.
Sherman was the most perfect bulldog ever built. He was mostly white with some tan and black splotches placed randomly across his squatty body. Although he would later become dangerously aggressive with people outside the family, on this day, he was still a gentle soul. Gentle enough to allow a two and half to three year old girl clip a leash to his collar and wait eagerly by the door for a walk around the block.
I'm sure his dog tags jingled when I clipped him up. Then, without an indication to anyone else, we slipped out of the house and began our adventure. Now, I can't remember anything about the walk. My memory essentially goes from looking at the leash to eating cake- so I'll try to fill you in with information based on third party accounts.
Apparently we made it pretty far. I don't know about miles- but definitely blocks.
And blocks my parents would assume would be too far away for my two and half to three year old legs to take me. Come to think of it, I don't know if they realized I was missing before the got the phone call or not. I can imaging Sherman doing most of the leading- but never pulling hard enough to pull the leash out of my little hands. He would trot along and stop to sniff at trees and bushes- with that characteristic bulldog snuffle.
A neighbor lady saw us walking along and realized that although it was the early 1970's - long before kids were forced to play indoors for fear of pedophiles and shootings, two and a half to three year olds should probably not be walking large, albeit obedient, bulldogs unsupervised.
And again, because it was the early 1970's, there was nothing untoward about a perfect stranger inviting a child into her home for cake. In our family, we didn't start being quizzed on kidnapping scenarios until the early 80's.
So, at some point she gets me in the house, slices what I remember to be a giant piece of moist chocolate cake and calls the police.
The police man, demonstrating an advanced level of detective work, simply looked at Sherman's dog tags, found a phone number and called my parents. Okay so it may have been a little more than that. I don't know if they actually had their number on the tag- or if they had to pull the information from the rabies vaccination tag and look something up. So I'll cut the friendly stranger some slack.
Thus began the final part of my adventure- the ride home. I do remember pulling up to my parent's house in a car that was outfitted with lots more than the basic steering wheel and gear shifter. But I don't think they made me wear a seat belt. And they were probably smoking. Nah- I just made that part up.
I also don't remember the actual reunion very well. But to close it up I'll say that I don't think I got into too much trouble. I'm sure they made sure to keep better tabs on both Sherman and me. For me, however, it was just the beginning of many unauthorized explorations- creek crossings, tree climbings, fence hoppings. I didn't have Sherman there as either a rescuer or a co-conspirator for those adventures- but I'll always remember him as the catalyst.
Assignment Notes: In honor of what is arguably one of the best television shows ever made, write about a time you, or someone you love, was Lost.
1/28 Billions!
So I hit the uberjackpot. I have $819 billion dollars.
1. Pay off my parents' house.- give them a few million to do with as they wish.
2. Buy a house for my sister- finance her film projects- help her start a production company(?)
3. Buy a house for me in Austin, Sea Ranch and Switzerland.- invest $100 million of it.
4. Set up a charitable giving foundation for the rest
5. Purchase land for an animal sanctuary in a fairly remote but temperate location.- Start building barns and structures for horses, mules, donkeys and dogs. And another house(s) for the humans who will staff the place.
6. Donate ~$50,000 to 100 public schools via a grant program
7. Hire a personal trainer- train for an Ironman
8. Make significant contributions to:
- Alzheimer's Research
- Breast Cancer Research
- Local animal rescue organizations
- Planned Parenthood
- help women in 3rd world countries get business loans
9. travel travel travel
- Costa Rica, Canada, Spain, England, Ireland, Australia, Germany, everywhere else.
10. Get a Creative Writing Degree.
11. Who knows.. I think at this point I haven't even hit $500 million yet...
Assignment Notes: You just got a $819 billion dollar bonus, because you are so awesome. Consider it your very own economic stimulus package. Go ape shit. What are you going to do with it?
1. Pay off my parents' house.- give them a few million to do with as they wish.
2. Buy a house for my sister- finance her film projects- help her start a production company(?)
3. Buy a house for me in Austin, Sea Ranch and Switzerland.- invest $100 million of it.
4. Set up a charitable giving foundation for the rest
5. Purchase land for an animal sanctuary in a fairly remote but temperate location.- Start building barns and structures for horses, mules, donkeys and dogs. And another house(s) for the humans who will staff the place.
6. Donate ~$50,000 to 100 public schools via a grant program
7. Hire a personal trainer- train for an Ironman
8. Make significant contributions to:
- Alzheimer's Research
- Breast Cancer Research
- Local animal rescue organizations
- Planned Parenthood
- help women in 3rd world countries get business loans
9. travel travel travel
- Costa Rica, Canada, Spain, England, Ireland, Australia, Germany, everywhere else.
10. Get a Creative Writing Degree.
11. Who knows.. I think at this point I haven't even hit $500 million yet...
Assignment Notes: You just got a $819 billion dollar bonus, because you are so awesome. Consider it your very own economic stimulus package. Go ape shit. What are you going to do with it?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
1/15 HaleyB
Perennially goggled and painfully shy, the always candid HaleyB started life as most of us do with ten toes and ten fingers and soft wisps of baby hair on her head. Although nothing was wrong with her vision, HaleyB found protective eyewear oddly comforting during her early years. One day she came home from school early only to find her parents in mid-coitus with her mother's stilletoed limbs kicking wildly in the air. Mistaking the frantic lovemaking for an attack, little HaleyB ran to help her mother only to get kicked in the eyebrow by one of the flailing feet. The combination of both the impact of the kick and the visual of the beat-with-two-backs, HaleyB sought to protect herself in the way that made the most sense- goggles.With her goggles securely attached to her face, HaleyB could break out of her self-conscious shell and participate in school yard games and classroom activities. Through her goggles, she observed everything. She took it all in- and she wrote it all down.
Gradually HaleyB began experimenting with goggles. Her everyday pair was a gift from her uncle- a ski instructor in Kirkwood, CA. Light but sturdy, she could clearly see the world around her with light sun protection- and no glare! A former lover, who didn't get it, offered her some basic swimming pool goggles. She graciously accepted the gift- but never slept with that person again.
Assignment Notes:
OK, so I really want to keep up, to some degree, with some sort of collaborative writing. I find it fun.
Today, pick someone in the blog group (look in the followers section) whom you know very little about. Based solely on their blogspot pic and the name of their blog (not their writing), write a one-paragraph bio of them.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
1/13 Excuses
I would write but I am hooked on watching Type O Negative videos online all night.
More to come later this week.
Why is Pete Steele so goddamn sexy?
More to come later this week.
Why is Pete Steele so goddamn sexy?
Monday, January 5, 2009
1/5 Dear Old Love
At least when I lied, it was to protect your feelings. So yeah, you have the worst tasting cum ever.
Assignment Notes: This blog called "Dear Old Love" is a really fun way to waste a few hours. Similar to postsecret- people mail in their notes anonymously to their exes. The blog owner comes up with the title.Some are sweet, some are sad and some are..vengeful.enjoy!
Book Him
via Dear Old Love on 1/4/09
I finally finished my novel. It’s nothing like the early drafts you read. The character based on you kills himself because he’s a jackass and everybody hates him. Especially me.
Now that is a dish best served cold. Write a note to an ex. And don't be shy.
CG Notes: Okay okay- I was going to let this one stand on its own but just to make sure no one gets there feelings hurt, this was based more on a conversation than actual experience. I'm not exactly a sperm sommelier, but different factors contribute to a person's individual.. uh flavor.
Assignment Notes: This blog called "Dear Old Love" is a really fun way to waste a few hours. Similar to postsecret- people mail in their notes anonymously to their exes. The blog owner comes up with the title.Some are sweet, some are sad and some are..vengeful.enjoy!
Book Him
via Dear Old Love on 1/4/09
I finally finished my novel. It’s nothing like the early drafts you read. The character based on you kills himself because he’s a jackass and everybody hates him. Especially me.
Now that is a dish best served cold. Write a note to an ex. And don't be shy.
CG Notes: Okay okay- I was going to let this one stand on its own but just to make sure no one gets there feelings hurt, this was based more on a conversation than actual experience. I'm not exactly a sperm sommelier, but different factors contribute to a person's individual.. uh flavor.
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