Francis and changes

Masters of Russian Animation

Mountain of Dinosaurs


Vinni Puh! Vinni Puh!

Row Row Row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily merrily
Life is but a dream.

the water has gotten to me here

The first jar is emptied.

I just lived a very Catcher in the Rye evening. My brain started to move in slow motion tonight as the grill continued to fill with customers but stayed low on employees. I kept finding myself in a daze in our walk-in freezer, I would try to follow my steps backwards ("Now why am I here....???") through my realm of mentality but the realm had become a hazy hazy sky. I couldn't find any clues as clouds have no imprints although clouds are the fiber of imprint. When I was younger I used to swing for hours and watch the clouds dreaming they were soft fluffy beds full of white covers to wrap around me.
I also found myself dreaming of taking the lighter that sits on the counter right there, standing upon our step ladder that is found over there, and propping myself up under the sprinkler that sits above our heads here. A restaurant has the sprinkler system of fire alarms, you see. And don't you also see how enjoyable it would be to watch everyone first look up in surprise and then fright about everywhere and stop demanding food of you?
We closed the grill early by half of a little old hour. And as I was locking the doors, my one of two coworkers called me over to show me that our sandwich fridge was at 80 degrees fahrenheit. I turned three more corners as was set upon by a woman who demanded to know what was going on with her order. When I asked her what she'd ordered she started yelling at me which was shocking. So I stood there being shocked or confused and it was all sorted out and her husband apologized to us. It made me sad, not that she was yelling at me, but that I looked over at her husband knowing that he knows this woman and knows why she is yelling at me. I don't. I wanted to try to think of her as a terrible woman but I kept thinking she's a wife and a mother and people know her. I don't. Have you ever felt sad because the world is all in confusion because we're constantly living and won't ever know who the woman is who is yelling at us? I started thinking about husbands and wives and about running away with Holden Caulfield, which I decided against because we wouldn't get the log cabin built before I failed his expectations and it would come to light, what I'd known all along, that he'd never stopped dreaming.
And then customers were over and we were closed and ready for a good few hours of cleaning so I went to the TV controls to look for a good station. It's all worked by a little screen in the office. I went through satellite channels pressing the down button to scan. You press the button and the numbers change on the top right hand corner of the screen one by one. Zero. Five. Nine. Nine. And then the bar at the top tells you whats being shown. PPV: Vacation Voyeurs 9....Oh I'd found the paper view and the number to subscribe to the playboy bunny network and girls gone wild and and and. I sat down with Holden in the elementary school hallway and stared at what was scribbled on the wall wondering how to erase it.
Later, as I was mopping, I kept buzzing betwixt songs from the Beatles' White album and wishing to call my mother up to hear the full lilting spoonerism, "Mardon me Padam, may I sow you to a sheet in the chack of the birch?...."


Dearest Coworker asked me the question: "Moral dilemma. If you slipped and fell and broke your back at the grill, at what point would you clock out? Would it be at the moment you fell and stopped working, when you left with the ambulances?"
Wanting to be prepared for such crisis, we posed the question to our boss who told us we'd never clock out. Hurrah workers comp! Many thinkle peep so.

I'll tell you a story as I curl up and listen

Have you ever come across a song that so perfectly fits you for a moment?

Grouper - Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping

A favorite discovery this week: transferring "I don't want to play football" by Belle and Sebastian to my phone to use as my alarm. It's a calm song and it makes me smirk just a little since I spend the rest of my day in a sports grill.

What?

Can I spill my train of consciousness out on the table
As glass marble beads
Steam skating across slick silver surfaces
tables and tables of John Wayne saloons and checkered table cloths and marching hats
It just comes out in ribbons and no one understands and there's no use to tie the ribbons into neat bows
And I've thought of maybe picking out matching ribbons and weaving them
But I've got no matches
Just half a deck
That keeps spilling out in shuffles
Breaking out in piles
A breakneck speeding thing is the train of consciousness

conscience.

the abstruse philosophy of the kitchen table weeping cactus plant.

There are so many things that a wanlillithpreyuh could say. Me Grandmother spoke the Old English, you see.

I was settling in to a few quick reads and ponderings (after I finished the last half of HELP!) before my evening's sleep when a chum dropped by. We both study the documentary and we got to chatting about mankind and business and Venezuelan jails. You know, even people in documentary, the occupation of the pauper, can feel like they've sold it all out from inside of them. Their souls, their bellies, their knees.
I like to buy nice things, but I still find my stomach turning over in the atmosphere of much wealth. That's why I told the UK to take back their winnings.
I'm sorry my writings are a bit flighty and disjointed, I've been replaying Beatles quips in my brain and standing over a grill for hours. The brain starts to fizzle.

More PS's:

PS. I've decided family is the only way to go.

PS. Don't ever ask me to cook a steak medium-rare, I can only manage rare, medium, medium well, and well. I somehow always miss medium-rare. And it's all on whim what done-ness you get. But I do a good well. Ha! Squirm you English teachers (Butweloveyoumadly).

(PS. Somebody stop me I'm frazzled!)

PS. The end.

"Oh Vernon, there's someone on our freezer!" "This game, everynight, this game!"

For all the subtexts in the world

I walked into the grill today for the first time in a week and a half. I saw the Onion Cutter and he threw up his hands with surprise and gave me a big welcoming hug. No one could feel down on themselves with such co-workers.
But poor old Onion Cutter was faced with the news that the love of his life will not be working with him anymore. When Weez, as he calls her, told him that today was her last day and she would soon be leaving to spend the rest of her life in Denmark, he groaned loudly "Oh Boy!"

Being on a university, my grill is plagued by sports camps. They could strike fear into your hearts, they will.
They struck while I was on vacation last week. My dearest co-worker started writing journals of the attack as one does during long sieges one might not survive. She wrote me journals referring to generals and battles, offensives, reprieves. She is now serving her vacation and I decided to write her journals. Let's enjoy them togetha, shall weee...

June 18th - Wednesday - 17:57
The Slaughter has slowed down but we took our worst hits today. We lost three workers*.
After only seven hours of this struggle I find a paranoia growing inside of me. I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. But it's not so bad when you expect the worst.
The power went off at 10:24 with T minus thirty six minutes until we opened for lunch. Everyone was at their stations preparing for a defensive stance along the front line when it happened. We looked to the General to see how he would react but he kept right on instructing a private on their burger set-ups. I had terrible visions of Miss Havisham and of the General in his last tragic scene as the grill would meet the lunch surge un-electrified. He would yell out commands that no one could follow, "Get more burgers on the grill!" "How many fries do we need down?!" "Where's the sandwich for number 24?!" Luckily, reinforcements fixed the power after twenty minutes.
But still, some of us are beginning to crack.

*Three peoples' last day today and no one to take their places! I really might crack!

PS. I've got evergrowing crushes on The Beatles. I could almost dance about it.

Other than this all, I feel alive again. Let's vote!

yes to killer tomatoes but no redo's of plans nines

My sister and I have been receiving an education on city politics and elections on this our visit home.
Yesterday the headline of our local paper was "Congratulations! You're the mayor, again!" Next to a picture of a woman celebrating her 100th birthday. It took me a moment to realize that the woman wasn't the mayor getting cake for being elected. The mayoral article was about some neighboring cities (all with populations from 24-30 people) of which three had held empty ballot elections.
No one had run for office.
When asked, the Encore Mayor replied that he was more worried about cleaning up after the latest storm than about his next term in office.

I will stop being friends with you....NOW. whew.

A song dedicated to George Orwell's 1984 and the Patriot Act.
I can't help but laugh and share this.

I wrapped myself right out of the dryer

Have you heard the trouble I have with cell phones? I've been looking at reviews and watching demo videos on Youtube for various cell phones for.eh.ver. I have to balance out my need for a stylish phone with my tendency to drown everything I own in water. I don't even like talking on the phone. And I rarely text. But I just caaaaaaaaan't tah tah tah bring myself to buy anything ugly. So the search went on for a couple of months while I switched between three very old cell phones, each one progressively older and filled with more and more crackles and break-ups.
Tuesday night I couldn't take it anymore.
I finally bought a phone and I splurged on three day shipping so I could get it before I went HOME (!!) for a visit.

(home)

After work yesterday I had five missed calls from the same number. "Who is this who so madly wants to speak to me?" I wondered. I redialed and found that it was the company I had ordered my phone from. A Mr. Roger tells me my order was cancelled, "I sorry ma'am, that my fault. I assidentilly pressed wrong button. Will you re-order phone?" "OOOK ma'am, OOOK ma'am."

There is that house somewhere abouts here that sets me daydreaming periodically. It has a cement block front porch, a bit crumbly of course, with a little table where one might sit and play cards with another or maybe the other putters about in the house while one fiddles with work and writings outside. Then a nice evening would stretch out while two people sat at the little table. Well, it turns out that the house attached to said cement block porch is actually inhabited by a few friends of mine. A youthful college abode, the other set of young dreamers.
Instead of shooting guns last Saturday, I went there for a Unicorn Party. Yes, Unicorns. .....? Where I found myself drawing unicorns on socks which I then wore to work where I grilled 100 sirloin steaks and 100 salmon. I saw more blood than you probably saw watching the new Rambo.

OooK ma'am! OOOoooKay.

CITIZENS ARREST!

The UK seems to think I'm a citizen and that I am a lottery winner. Or someone thinks I am gullible and they will be able to steal my identity. Or someone in the UK named Marge has won the lottery, but they're offering me her winnings. Take them back UK! Take the loot back! I love my poverty!

painting: The Gleaners, François Millet