04 June 2008

Sounds like Raw Shock

I am sitting on my sofa, slightly embeered. I had dinner with Zeeba and an old buddy from Dallas at which some Singha was enjoyed (by me - Weylan had the Phuket, and Zeeba had some Monkey Bay, but all of that is neither here nor there) and then we came back to my place for a few more, almost as though I were an actual human being with a real life instead of being a vulcanized rubber blowup creation living in the buttery cornhole of Wisconsin. It was weird, because this sort of social interaction is something antisocial freaks such as myself only ever see in television programs and then, realizing that we will never have this thing, plot our lonely revenge against the world in a dark, dank corner of our unfinished basements.

The evening was cut somewhat short, however, even as Charles (another Dallas comrade) was racing this way from the airport, because in addition to being embeered, I am also more than a little tired from getting up this morning while the sun itself was still flipping its pillow over to the cool side and dreaming about its childhood as a hot body of glowing gas in a nebula somewhere. I am not a morning person (a mourning person, though? Let's talk.) so getting to work a good hour before anyone else only sufficed to transform me into a zombie. An irritable, grumpy zombie. Grrrr. Arrrrrgh. (This probably also explains the feelings of dread I had most of the afternoon. Or was it a feeling of dreadlocks? Maybe I was a Rasta zombie? Mi dun feel bad. Yes, mon!)

And now I am sitting here on my sofa (as I explained at the very beginning of this thing; goodness gracious, do you people ever listen?!) with Zeeba by my side, listening to the Juno soundtrack and trying to come up with something to write about. And I am drawing a blank.

But blanks are useless for illustrating blogs, so instead let me show you pictures of the bottom of my coffee cup.

At work there is this girl who seems to enjoy introducing a little surrealism into the lives of others as much as I do. Maybe even more. For her, this surrealism takes many forms, but one of my favorites is when she exclaims, "Ink blot!" and then goes around asking everyone what they see in a spill, a stain, a smudge... If one assumes that Hermann Rorschach wasn't just some mindfuck, the answers can be somewhat intriguing - especially when more than one person gives the same response. Just the other day I held up a few sheets of paper towel covered in various geometrical oil stains made from the oily imprints of the bottoms of different containers, and a few of us said it was the 1960s. (And in retrospect, it was reminiscent of Mondrian, so perhaps we simply have a keen eye for the arts.) Today a slick of oils looked to several of us like a sheep - although the modifiers ranged from "deranged" to "stoned" to "wearing a funny hat."

A couple of days ago I had finished my first cup of coffee and was carrying the empty cup through the lab on my way to getting a refill. I held my cup up and peered into the bottom, pretending to prognosticate in the manner of the tearoom gypsies, when suddenly I realized that, staring back at me, was none other than Santa Claus!

I quickly shouted, "Ink blot!" and brought the cup around to confirm that yes, indeed, it was Santa Claus. And according to several of my coworkers, it was the jolly fat man. He was bald, hatless, and looking pretty mean, but it was undeniably old Saint Nick.

Or an owl.

Anyway, please to judge for yourself:

(Yes, sadly enough, before refilling the cup I took a picture of Kris Kringle with my telephone. Did I mention that my phone also takes pictures? Because it does.)

And in case you can't quite make out the image of the tired old bearded baldy (in which case I mourn your lost innocence), here he is, outlined in red:

What is the point of all this? How the hell should I know? Maybe you should ask Hermann Rorschach. Or Santa Claus.

They seem to know everything.

Me? I'm going to bed.

The Last Five:
I heard it on the radio - 27 July 2008
Happiness is... - 26 July 2008
Do bears shit in the woods? - 21 July 2008
Politics schmoliticks - 14 July 2008
words and pictures - 14 July 2008

Sounds like Raw Shock

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