How fish is borned. - by Gingerbread Man
Gingerbread Man on 16/9/2007 at 04:34
In this thread we recommend goggles. In this thread we move like top-laden dockmen who have suddenly learned where the slippery patches are. In this thread we draw the poisons from the paint, the essence of the drainpipe, and the figurative nature of "allons-y"
In brief, sirs and madams, in this thread we approach the critical vector guaranteed to project maximum volume. Where my niggaz is at?
What's making you smile, punks? What right now is the honest joy for you?
For me it's a 22oz beer with Frank Zappa's ugly mug on the cover. For me it's a hard job that leaves me tired and immensely happy. For me it's two beautiful girls and a beautiful boy. For me it's a Saturday night with no work on the morn, a belly full of lamb curry, a head full of trance. For me it's the end of the 100 degree, the still and the chill and the wind from the north. San Bernadino's on fire, but I don't live near San Bernadino.
For me it's looking back at that Man Francisco thread and remembering what a great weekend that was, full of honest, decent, crazy motherfuckers with an appetite for life that I can truly appreciate.
For me it's remembering that fluke's birthday just past, and thinking how extraordinary that son of a bitch was. For me it's finishing BioShock (yeah, get off my ass, life ain't all veecho gaymes and farting), looking at my wedding ring, and listening to the hum of the air conditioner.
Life's good, mes amis. Don't forget that.
ps we busting this thread for my mate nate scumble the humble never crumble, and for nicky and shades and the names we never see no mo
Kolya on 16/9/2007 at 04:49
Sun is just coming up and there's something on that blue tent before my window that looks suspiciously like the morning star. Maybe it's that? Or maybe it's a helicopter. It's oddly flickering.
theBlackman on 16/9/2007 at 05:06
My lady of 37 years.
The "Oh Yeah" when the new blues chord I worked on for a week sounds like it should.
The 70 years that have just past, and the anticipation of those years to come.
The rollercoaster of life with its thrills and chills, joys and disappointments. It am, has been, and will be good. That's what "floats my boat".
Gingerbread Man on 16/9/2007 at 05:08
Son of a bitch, you just turned 70 didn't you? Goddamn, son. I'm sorry I didn't join in the birthday thread... Rock on, old dude. You're one of the coolest people I know.
theBlackman on 16/9/2007 at 08:12
Yeah. Time flies when you are having fun. But, after the 21 mark, the rest are easy. In the USA, that's the magic number. Adulthood rears its ugly head. If you are smart you stop counting and just cruise from there on.
The phrase "you are only as old as you feel" is partially true. In reality, it should be "you are only as old as you think". Think 18 but keep the Real World in view and you can put in the 8 hours a day working like a dog and have your beer and skittles after without sweating the petty shit.
Play the gitfiddle, ogle the girls (yeah, I've been hooked up for 37 years, but just because I'm on a diet doesn't mean I can't read the menu :ebil:); go out with the guys and generally enjoy the life around you and the company of good friends.
Keep your sense of humour, GBM. Keep writing your brilliant dissertations on life and its foibles, and we will bask in the warmth of your sunny disposition for years to come. Take care of the loving brood of yours, and -I know you won't stop them- let them be the person they want to be and not a pale copy of what you might have wanted to be. Your lady and family are the be all and end all of life. Keep them close.
As for missing my septarian passage, not to worry. I didn't advertise it so you have many excuses for not noticing. Not the least of which was my silence on the subject.
As far as cool, I revel in the vicarious sharing of your adventures in the kitchen and other excursions that you post now and then. If you aren't writing a novel, you sure as hell should be. You have a view of the world that is refreshing and a way of expressing it that I admire greatly.
Enough of this maudlin crap.
This crusty old curmudgeon is signing off and going to finish off a new song or two.
Aja on 16/9/2007 at 08:17
...sleepwalking through life. What, I get drunk on the weekends? The Metro is showing David Lynch movies now, eight dollars please, for two or three really terrifying hours. What makes me happy now - jogging in the river valley early in the morning, sleeping under two blankets with the window open, (
http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/article/record_review/41792-from-here-we-go-sublime) The Field, when my pathetic little band achieves that singular moment where stuff actually starts to kinda sound good... knowing that my fifteen-year-old sister is the most popular girl in school who knows about Trout Mask Replica, and maybe just the bittersweet satisfaction of feeling like you're somehow slightly more aware of things in general, slightly more in tune, and slightly more capable of appreciating the universe without having to get drunk and or other on the weekends, but then we go ahead and do it anyway.
How about that brief moment before you reread what you've written and you think you've got it all good... ah hell I'm hitting submit and never looking back.
TJKeranen on 16/9/2007 at 09:10
Sitting on the balcony at 2am, slowly enjoying a cigar and having a cold beer (the side of the can proudly proclaiming, "For serious drinkers!"), while looking at the Beijing skyline in the horizon and the empty streets below. The feeling of having produced another 50 pages of text that I'm *very* satisfied with for the moment and knowing that with the general price level here I could keep up this blissfully ignorant life style for years and years without actually working before I ran out of money. Returning inside and taking a long look at the pretty little thing sleeping on my bed, before sitting back in front of my laptop to sketch the next chapter.
I have to admit I don't particularly miss working from 9 to 5 at the moment.
Ulukai on 16/9/2007 at 10:06
For me, it's being at home on a still summer's evening with my girl, home-cooked food, some light jazz and a good bottle of wine. Looking out at the view, seeing the sun casting the remains of day on the castle in the distance, and then dancing slowly in front of the window together, grinning at each other as only Cheshire cats can do.
Sunday mornings together; not getting out of bed, and breakfast in it.
The feeling of accomplishment that comes with a job well done.
Making stuff. Any stuff, be it on a PC or from wood or metal or plastic. It's good to make stuff.
And, as I rapidly approach 30 this year, the knowledge that although my life turned out nothing like I thought it would when I was a child, it's good and most of the time I'm enjoying it.
Fingernail on 16/9/2007 at 10:21
getting on better with associate employee contemporaries
Scots Taffer on 16/9/2007 at 10:28
Joy for me these days seems to invariably involve a dining table, set with good food prepared well, laden with glasses brimming with wine of every varietal, conversation and laughter flowing as freely as the alcohol, surrounded by chairs filled with friends or family, cheeks aching from grinning, a fuzzy warmth spreading from my contented belly to my sockless feet, the adlibbed back and forths, the meaningful arched eyebrows, the jokes that take a moment or two to settle, the free exchange of ideas, debates and light jibes, those intense little bursts of disagreement that are like momentary swells on a lake of placid waters, that lovely moment or two of silence that descends after a particularly solid belly laugh or the end of the meal or at any moment that feels pregnant with life, and yes, love too.
My wife and daughter are also the two next biggest sources of light in my life after the Sun.