arterialturns's blog

Prequel (entitled "-ive")

[So here's an entry that I meant to put in on the 20th, I think. Just so you know.]
Well, Jasmine may or may not be getting better. Doctor prescribed antibiotics for her, she's peppier, but it may just be a temporary uplift. Got front camseal outta car, installed new one and valve cover gasket, broke off back timing belt cover. $60 more or so bucks downa drain. Remember, I'm doing it to "save us money"! In some insane, masochisitic sort of way, I enjoy futzing around with the car, even though it can be suPREMEly frustrating for someone of my limited experience. But I like the challenge, and it's pretty satisfying when something goes even marginally right. There's a class at the local voc-tech college on auto repair that I'd love to take just for my own edification, but it conflicts w/my work schedule. Someday....In other news, the Coup's album from last year ("Pick a Bigger Weapon") has to be the best one released. Admittedly I didn't get much new stuff last year, but I've listened to it at least 10 times or more since getting it a few weeks ago, and haven't tired of it yet. It's so rare for an album to have so many good tracks nowadays, especially hip-hop. It just goes to show how much better stuff like that is compared to mainstream music, hip-hop or otherwise. That is all.

Vision, Volvo, Vanity

So, that which has been foretold has come to pass. I am, even as I type, wearing a pair of Safilo (Made in Italy!!) glasses that allegedly help my alleged astigmatism. One of the sadder truths that I have stumbled grudgingly across since getting these damn things is that, lo and behold, I do see some things a bit clearer, sharper. I hate being wrong, and I hate wearing glasses. Boo-fucking-hoo. Also, they make everything seem weird. Things are clearer, but they sort of seem to 'warp' as well. Going from close-up objects to far away ones is disorienting. I don't know if the prescription is wrong, or if I'm just not used to them.

In other glasses news, the other night (last Saturday) was a fundraising auction for my son's pre-school. I wore a grey dress shirt, dark grey slacks, nice shoes and my glasses. Also, recently, I've taken to trimming my beard somewhat, just neatening it up (as it gets to a point where it's unruly). So, after the auction, I saw an old friend, one who I haven't seen in at least 7 or 8 years, and felt like a bigger dork than usual. Here he was, looking cool, but not consciously so, just his normal self, and there was I looking like pond scum. Okay, before I lose you, it's not at all that I think people who dress like this regularly are such, but-on me, and after such a long time- I must have looked ridiculous to him. Why do I care? I'm not sure that I do, that much. I just thought it was kinda funny that, after those years, he first sees me like that. Yuppie-looking glasses and all. Oh well. As the former Eric Boucher once said, "Why don't you take your social regulations and shove them up your ass?!"

In the world of Volvos, we spent over $100 the other night online for the upper, lower and back cover for the timing belt on the as-yet-unrepaired Volvo. Still don't know how to get the vibration damper off, which hinders-oh, I don't know-EVERYTHING! Also have a mystery part that no one can seem to identify that I need to replace (as the rubber on it is cracked). VERY exciting.

That's all. Rock over London, rock on Chicago.

 

QotD: Strange Little Songs

What are the weirdest song titles in your playlist or music collection?
Submitted by Charline.

"Several Species of Small Furry Animals Gathered Together in a Cave and Grooving With a Pict"
by Pink Floyd from "Umma Gumma"
"Peeling Back the Foreskin of Liberty"
by Lard from "Pure Chewing Satisfaction"
Just a coupla samples from my strange world.

Me and jesus the pimp...

Me and jesus the pimp in a 79 granada last night

Wow, two entries in one day, how truly fantastical! Speaking of which, a couple of weeks ago my beloved & I went to Seattle to see Lyrics Born. The Coup were opening, who I had only heard of. No disrespect to LB, but the Coup pretty much stole the show. Both acts had live bands, which was a good component for a hip-hop show (the few I've been to, some fall very flat w/just a dj and a so-so mc). The Coup is basically Boots Riley and Pam the Funkstress (dj), but for the tour she was out and the band was in. Their politics are fairly radical (although what other people consider radical is sometimes normal to me), the music was funky (but not in a nostalgic, outdated way), and Riley's delivery was compelling (uh-oh, this is turning into a pretentious live show review; time to ease back). ANYway, they were great, and by the time Lyrics Born came on, the crowd seemed kinda worn out from the Coup. Still, LB was great, too, and lesser acts wish they were as good. A killer bill (w/a decent opening act, Gabriel Teodoros and Khingz County), and it's always good to find some "new" good stuff. We bought their most recent cd "Pick a Bigger Weapon", and I'm not even remotely tired of it after many listens.

In other news, my big girl has both of her top two front teeth out now, and was very excited about it. Oh, and my reign of terror has finally come to a sad and pathetic end. After 35 years of "perfect" vision, I've been diagnosed with Astigmatism (am I even supposed to capitalize it?). I have been very distressed of late to see things a bit unclearly every now and then (I know, all of you glasses & contact lense wearers could give a shit, boo-hoo), as I have never had trouble seeing almost anything. So the quack, I mean doc (sorry-just a little bitter here), sez it is a corneal distortion, and usually contact lenses aren't ideal. He sez I can wear my glasses whenever I feel the need (uh, NEVER!), and so it goes. It's not a vanity issue for me, it's a holy fuck there goes the one perfect thing I had thing. Oh well, it couldn't last forever. The one thing he told me that was reassuring somehow was that it was nothing that I did to myself. So those late nights under the covers w/ comics and a flashlight had no effect. He sez to blame mom and dad, and so I shall.  

Of Cats and Crankshafts

So February and half of March go by w/o a posting from me, gimme a break. I gotta full time job, broke-ass cars and a family that prefers my love and attention rather than not. Speaking of broke-ass cars, I am currently embroiled in attempting to fix our 92 Volvo 740 Turbo Wagon. I need to replace front cam seal, will replace crankshaft seal and oil covered timing belt while I am at it, also cover gasket. The problem? I'm a mechanic like the Bush administration has an effective foreign policy. (I know, it's pretty old to be bashing them and all, but they make it so easy). ANYway, I got some tools, some very minor experience (read: I did some stuff, and it wasn't more fucked up after I was done w/it), and motivation (Volvo mechanics think all Volvo owners are loaded). I have changed the master cylinder on my old '74 Toyota Corolla, the starter and valve cover gasket on my '65 Dodge Dart, the brakes and a wanna-be tune-up on our '88 Toyota Tercel, and the water pump on the aforementioned Volvo. Let's just put it this way, manuals aren't all they're cracked up to be. However, I have found that to work on cars in the internet age is to have access to various forums and sites where Volvo owners the world over are willing to answer my pathetic postings (read: pleas). And so I am going to go downstairs now and I am going to soak the shit outta that crankshaft pulley in WD-40 and it is going to come off easily and without much trouble, or my name isn't Mortimer J. Hornblaaken III. Perhaps you will be lucky and I will post some ridiculous photos of our poor car being tortured by an angry, angry man.

In other, extremely more depressing news, my mother called me to say that "my" (in quotes because she has been my mother's cat since I left Cali in '93) cat Jasmine will be brought home from the vet today, probably to spend her last hours/minutes/days with my parents. She is about 15 now, and has lived a somewhat pampered life on my mom's lap, and probably deserves a rest from all of that resting. Jasmine history, in brief: she was found as a kitten by my girlfriend at the time Kate, annoying a liquor store owner. We took her in, and named her Jasmine Taco Bell (the first after Kate's cat Chasmine because they looked similar, the second I can't recall), and she has lived at my parents' home ever since. She has never had much of an interest in mousing, etc., but has been known to chase off and harass dogs. She also harasses her equally neurotic (is there a cat that isn't?) roommate Aslan sometimes, even though-like the dogs-he is bigger than her. She has long, frizzy gray hair, and requires a "panty shave" (as my mom says) to, shall we say, keep things less messy for her. She's a funny beast, she liked to bite me with her tiny, sharp teeth and I am going to miss my Jasmine-love-kitten.

It's Snowin' Like a Mutha Up In Here!

So the day already started out atypically. The little car broke down Tuesday, so I had to ride in to work two hours early w/ a dude who lives close to me. Show up and find that my truck (I am thee local window delivery driver man) is 100%, and so-when the magic hour arrives (7AM)- I will be able to leave (after my helper arrives @ 7.30, actually). Do paperwork, get truck warmed up a bit, and it has started to snow pretty good. Truck off, take nap in truck. Awake, meeting, get helper (we employ temp help from various sources for muscle when we have big stuff on board), GO! No, my dispatcher calls just as we're getting on the freeway to tell me to bring my helper back to give him to someone else, as I will have another driver in my area w/not much to deliver who can meet up w/me. No hay problema.
    Leave shop @ 8:15 now, I-5 south to SR 16 westbound, through Tacoma, Gig Harbor, Port Orchard and ultimately to Bremerton where my first stop is. Cruising along through Port Orchard, approx. 8:55 AM when I notice a Toyota Tacoma on the other side of the freeway drop down into the deep, snowy, valley-like median, skid quite a bit, and shoot up onto my side of the freeway going the WRONG WAY. At first I think she may get me, then not, and then WHAM!!! The left rear of her pickup hit my driver side door, very hard, she spun around to rest behind me facing the right way now. Call 911, pull over, check to see that I am not spilling diesel everywhere, walk back to see if she's ok. In the meantime, people are cruising around the wreck at almost normal speeds (regardless of the fact that someone just wrecked due to the semi-icy conditions) while I am dumbly walking along the shoulder practically inviting someone to spin out and hit me. By the time I get to her vehicle, some good samaritan has her resting inside their pickup while she calls whoever she calls. HERE, MY FRIENDS, IS THE BOTTOM LINE: NO ONE WAS HURT. Her truck was a 4X4, and was high enough to destroy my fiberglass fender, bend a metal step down towards my fuel tank (almost puncturing it), literally rip a huge gash in the metal on the bottom of my door, and eventually bend the rim of my left rear tires. All of the cars imediately following me were passenger vehicles and, had she hit any of them instead of me, they would be the poorer for it (UNDERSTATEMENT). She would have hit them about eye-level or so, and-due to the force she hit me-would most likely have sent them flying into the ditch.
    SO, this all put me behind by about 3 1/2 hours. Fast forward to later in the day when Pete (the aforementioned other driver) and I have finally completed our last stop (on Marrowstone Island, look it up on google earth, I guess) at 6:30 PM. Roads are pretty slick out there, but driveable, and it's snowing, but not too bad yet. A trip that normally takes me 1 1/2 hours to make back to the shop took me FOUR HOURS, ARE YOU GETTING THIS, FOUR FREAKIN' HOURS!! Things were pretty cool until Gig Harbor (not much snow after the island where it had been snowing more. Crossing the Narrows Bridge took about an hour, and the other side was a nightmare of abandoned vehicles, and semis chaining up. Pete (who was now back in his truck and about 10 minutes ahead of me) was the vanguard, going all the right ways and telling me how it was. The further into Tacoma we got, the icier and snowier it became. By the time we hit Fife (near Tacoma, home of my employer) large flakes were coming down steadily. The freeway wasn't that bad once we got away from the bridge. Back to the shop, where the snow was at least 6 inches deep, and the boss wanted me to go to St. Joe's (hospital) for a UA (urine analysis), which I was aware of earlier. So I borrowed the maintenance dept.'s little 4X4 pickup (remember? my little car broke down and so had no way back). Made it to St. Joe's by 12:15 AM, left at about 1, home and asleep by 2 AM. HAPPY HAPPY, JOY JOY. Honestly, none of it was that bad. The only real reason I was home that late was the wreck. It threw everything off, obviously. Subtract the 3 1/2 hours the wreck ate up and the extra time it took me to go to St. Joe's before I got home, and I probably would have made it home by no later than 9PM. And, I remind you, no one was hurt. And, when I got home, there was a cool little snowman with a sombrero and tutu that Tracy and the kids had done earlier in the day. Awesome. Matt E. reporting from the place to be, Tacoma, Washington.

The Eighth Dwarf

In a little over six hours it will be time for me to go wake up and go back to work. And so endeth the vacation, but there's always Sat. through New Year's Day! A bit of an absurd vacation set-up, I'll admit, but it works for me.

          Speaking of Godfathers, watched the first "Godfather" movie last night (trilogy as X-Mas gift, and a good one). I am neither movie buff nor film critic, but I truly and thoroughly enjoy the first two films of that trilogy without any guilty feelings whatsoever. It made me think about (among other things) how annoyed I am at weak, mainstream rap acts that appropriate "Godfather" imagery, wording, fonts, etc. in the name of gangster credibility, when-to me-the movies say a lot more than some well done ultraviolence and hardcore, cold mobsters. For the first time (smart people probably got this sooner), I saw the series as depicting on a grand scale the classic internal struggles that many American males have with maintaining masculine ideals &  vague concepts of honor, living up to sometimes unreasonable codes at the risk of losing irreplaceable face. The movies are so much more than catchphrases, yet that's largely what it's reduced to, it seems. Having said that, the "Scarface" 'talking' keychain I tried out the other day was pretty cool.

          Went into a Mervyn's tonight, and the smell of death was in the air. The giant thing was twitching ever so faintly, while desperate post-holiday shoppers scoured its bones clean. One could purchase clothes racks, adding machines, jewelry displays, and other assorted  detritus from a once mighty chain store. It was kinda cool and kinda freaky to be in an almost empty, yet open and operating department store. A strange atmosphere. Bright lights to illuminate next to nothing, rack after empty rack, bizarre mannequin torsos with changeable heads for $150.00. And the small, dedicated group of would-be bargain hunters cloistered around the last island of commerce in the dying store. It sounds dumb to write it, but in a way I'm sorta sad that Mervyn's is going by the wayside. My mom and grandma used to buy me clothes there a lot when I was a boy. Oh well, nostalgia for such strange things as department stores seems like nostalgia wasted.

Bedways is rightways, so good night all.

Yule (b)Log

On the Godfather, My Little Ponies, Algebra, and Unwarranted Heaviness…

So my good, good friend Corrado and I were speaking semi-reverently about the death of James Brown yesterday, when we decided that the perfect move for him would be to burst from his casket as it’s being lowered underground, throw off his cape, spin once, drop into the “splits” one last time and return to his coffin. Having said that, I am truly bummed about his passing, but am getting somewhat more realistic about the passing of people in general and famous people specifically. Firstly, he (for the most part) had a pretty good, long life, at least popularity-wise and economically speaking.  Respected, adored, admired the world over. Secondly, obviously I didn’t know him, so it shouldn’t really affect me that much, right? Still, shotgun-brandishing-on-crack-driving-on-four-rims notwithstanding, a great one has passed, so recognize……OK.

            My beloved and only daughter received some My Little Pony products for Christmas, and one of them came with a DVD featuring exactly the kind of syrupy, awful, squealy, pink rubbish you’d expect from an MLP DVD. It really bothered me the kind of crap I foisted on my kid by letting them watch it, made me wish I’d concealed the video. The MLP world is populated by “attractive”, naïve, similar creatures who espoused such virtues as being perfect and just wanting to have fun (‘cause what else is there for young girls-the target audience-to aspire to?). Mind you, I don’t think the pursuit of perfection is necessarily a bad thing, and lord knows there’s nothing wrong with fun, but those and other simplistic ideals coupled with the saccharine imagery represent merely the beginning in the miseducation of many a potentially great young woman. OK, maybe I take MLP a little too seriously (MAYbe?!?!), and really what else could I expect from such a video, but this is truly where it all begins.

            On the plus side, while my daughter and I were busy making paper snowflakes, she showed me a little subtraction knowledge which somehow led to me teaching her some very basic algebra concepts, the only ones I know. For a 6 ½ year old, she sure seemed to get it, for the most part. Amazing what an open mind will do for you.

            So the older I get, and the longer I am into my marriage, and the greater the distance from my father-in-law’s death, I find myself feeling that I fall short of many a fatherly and masculine ideal. Before parenthood, I always felt that it would be a bad idea for me to procreate, as I didn’t have confidence in my future fathering skills. I didn’t have great father figures around to learn from. Birth dad gone by my birth, Dad #2 left my mom for another gal when I was in 1^st or 2^nd grade, third dad and I had a very unhealthy relationship until my early twenties. Having admittedly taken little or no appreciable steps to prevent parenthood, I have had to test those fathering skills. And now I feel-accurately or otherwise-that I have been left in the unenviable position of having to fill my father-in-law’s shoes as somewhat of a patriarch in our family up here. While my wife is by no means a meek or submissive person, and my mother-in-law is as much a strong, assertive person as her daughter, there is a certain air of deference towards me since his death that I am not very comfortable with. Couple that with my poor self-evaluation of the way I parent my two youngest (1/2 the time I’d say I’m a pretty creative, thoughtful dad, the other half I think I’m exasperated and short-tempered), and it does a lot to shake ones confidence, especially when I have that “patriarchal pressure”, whether imagined or not. Anyway, I’ll just have to try and be perfect, like a My Little Pony dad would!!

           

Cracked Limbs and Live Wires

Greetings from the land of the great wind storm. Yesh, the title wasn't a metaphor. The past few days here in the Puget Sound have seen many thousands of trees and tree branches cracked, power lines strained and snapped, at the behest of a wind storm so powerful as to only happen once every 1-2 hundred years or so. It mostly hit us Thursday night/Friday morning, with gusts around the nineties, and sustained winds in the sixties in some areas. People have been crushed by trees, asphyxiated due to carbon monoxide poisoning (people running generators for power in or too near their homes, people using bbq grills indoors), electrocuted. Death, dead, damned. I delivered on my normal Friday route (Gig Harbor-Port Orchard-Belfair-Tahuya-Key Peninsula), and I saw what all the news stations were broadcasting: road after road littered with debris, broken signs, trees down or leaning precariously against power lines, snapped, live wires lying in the roads, kids of idiot parents riding their bikes around all such hazards. I was unable to make three of my many stops due to the cursed storm. We have some friends who live nearby in Fircrest who have been w/o power since then, and only just got back their water. I saw our old, single-pane windows in our living room frighteningly flex with the wind, the sound of it whistling through the wires outside our 2nd story apt. Why, the storm almost made off with our trusty glass recycling bin, had I not rescued it. The folks in the sticks (literally, now) are the hardest hit, I believe, as their septic systems are useless w/o power, and it has been COLD lately (OK, not Wisconsin cold, but low 30's). The mother-in-law stayed over Friday night, as her power was out until last night. The kids were stoked, they slept in the living room w/Daddy while Grandma slept w/Mom. The cats were excited to get lots of attention from Grandma Jean, too.

          Failed trip to get a sacrificial X-Mas tree today as kids were not behaving well (do kids ever? duh!). Did get lots of X-Mas stuff outta pantry. Visited my man Lucas yesterday, and it was good. Had a little but intense fight w/the wife. Life life life life. "Lots of details to discern, lots of details".

--Matt E.