simultaneity in occasional torn flavor
This morning Patti Smith tagged my ears. I’d listened to her only on the skirts and had never researched. She joined me on my drive to work and it did us both well I think.
Timing is off but oh well. Gumption of some off-key kind is in the air. Chill is in the air. And rain, from what I hear, but that just happens sometimes, despite the attitude of many weathercasters and the general populous who act like rain means another day ruined. "Just our luck," they chant in unison. That is why I lock myself in my office with James Brown some days. Please, folks, don’t be so arrogant to think that rain means yet another bad day for you you you. It’s natural and quite good for rain to fall from the sky. And don’t complain when the sun is too bright either. Instead sit and spin in the cycle of all cycles, life itself. Why when people don’t know how else to respond do they fall to complaining about whatever’s happening in the immediate? That ease into laze makes me want to drink cocktails with umbrellas and juggle jelly beans with my tongue.
With some time on my hands I did some research. Here is one biography on Patti Smith, and here is another from the same web site. Apparently she simultaneously grew up in two different New Jersey towns after having been born in Chicago.
And speaking of Illinois, a while back there was talk of school mascots of mal flavor. Today I came across an article at Flak Magazine about mascot battles, the vie for some kind of correctness in, upon some standard, respecting Native Americans. Pay close attention to the dates: The school's [Lemont’s] teams, since 1969, have been called the Injuns. It was a name change from the Indians, made, with little fanfare, to separate Lemont from all the other Indian-nicknamed teams in Chicagoland. (Injuns actually was not the most vile nickname in Illinois school history. It took Pekin High until 1981 to get rid of its nickname Chinks.) 1981, my mouth is agape. It took that long. Illinois is my home state; however, many people assume I am European. Please forgive me. In the end, we all live in a yellow submarine. The final paragraph is a chuckle.
Furthermore, read this article on appropriate music for the bank atmosphere and this article as per Slate on comically (sort of) poor musical choices for commercials.
Finally, make sure the trunk of your elephant faces the light. A guru in a white blouse just passed by my office door and told me that was good luck. If that doesn’t work, though, learn to balance an umbrella on your head and you should be set for life. Whether the sky is raining, the sun shining, or you’re getting pulled over by a cop wearing a middle-age mustache.
Timing is off but oh well. Gumption of some off-key kind is in the air. Chill is in the air. And rain, from what I hear, but that just happens sometimes, despite the attitude of many weathercasters and the general populous who act like rain means another day ruined. "Just our luck," they chant in unison. That is why I lock myself in my office with James Brown some days. Please, folks, don’t be so arrogant to think that rain means yet another bad day for you you you. It’s natural and quite good for rain to fall from the sky. And don’t complain when the sun is too bright either. Instead sit and spin in the cycle of all cycles, life itself. Why when people don’t know how else to respond do they fall to complaining about whatever’s happening in the immediate? That ease into laze makes me want to drink cocktails with umbrellas and juggle jelly beans with my tongue.
With some time on my hands I did some research. Here is one biography on Patti Smith, and here is another from the same web site. Apparently she simultaneously grew up in two different New Jersey towns after having been born in Chicago.
And speaking of Illinois, a while back there was talk of school mascots of mal flavor. Today I came across an article at Flak Magazine about mascot battles, the vie for some kind of correctness in, upon some standard, respecting Native Americans. Pay close attention to the dates: The school's [Lemont’s] teams, since 1969, have been called the Injuns. It was a name change from the Indians, made, with little fanfare, to separate Lemont from all the other Indian-nicknamed teams in Chicagoland. (Injuns actually was not the most vile nickname in Illinois school history. It took Pekin High until 1981 to get rid of its nickname Chinks.) 1981, my mouth is agape. It took that long. Illinois is my home state; however, many people assume I am European. Please forgive me. In the end, we all live in a yellow submarine. The final paragraph is a chuckle.
Furthermore, read this article on appropriate music for the bank atmosphere and this article as per Slate on comically (sort of) poor musical choices for commercials.
Finally, make sure the trunk of your elephant faces the light. A guru in a white blouse just passed by my office door and told me that was good luck. If that doesn’t work, though, learn to balance an umbrella on your head and you should be set for life. Whether the sky is raining, the sun shining, or you’re getting pulled over by a cop wearing a middle-age mustache.
1 Comments:
The sports names things might not be as big a deal if teams would use names like the "Rabid Frenchmen" and "Conquistadors", etc. instead of just a bunch of Native Indian tribes.
An Ohio friend of mine used to like sticking his thumb up and saying, "sit and spin baby". I don't know if that applies to what you're saying, but I'd like to think it could at least apply to the people who complain about everything in regards to themselves.
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