“My voters are ordinary people, and I speak to them in one language, the language of ordinary people, even though, of course, I am not an ordinary person.”
Saturday, August 15, 2009
"The cracks are starting to show"
“My voters are ordinary people, and I speak to them in one language, the language of ordinary people, even though, of course, I am not an ordinary person.”
In Compliance to the Vulgar (pt. 1)
"They bury their dead with their heads directly downwards, because they hold an opinion that in eleven thousand moons they are all to rise again, in which period the earth (which they conceive to be flat) will turn upside down, and by this means they shall, at their resurrection, be found ready standing on their feet. The learned among them confess the absurdity of this doctrine, but the practice still continues, in compliance to the vulgar."
- Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels
- Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels
He slept well once the girl had opened the windows and the crisp air from the mountains made it over to the bed. The sheets on the bed were a pale yellow color and he considered them for a moment before he fell asleep. When he woke up the light in the room had changed and the yellow color of the sheets seemed brighter and less appealing. The shower had a window that was made out four glass cubes and he liked using it this time of day because the light showed through the steam and it all seemed very dramatic. He shaved quickly and missed a spot on his neck that he wouldn’t notice until much later. There were always dark spots under his eyes that he had inherited from his old man and he hardly ever noticed them anymore but the light in the bathroom seemed to accentuate them and he thought that he would do good to get more sleep. He came out of the bathroom and back in to the bedroom where the bed with the yellow sheets sat in the middle with two dark oak bedside tables on either side. The big window was still open and it looked out over the city and beyond to the big mountains. The air came through the window cold from the big peaks with snow on them way in the distance. He pulled on a black pair of pants and took from a hangar in the big closet a thick blue collared shirt that was clean but stained around the collar from sweat and age. He took an old blazer with brass buttons off of another hanger and pulled it over the blue shirt. Sitting on the bed to put his wool socks on he thought this was a hell of a business to be in. Better than the kids selling paintings and shoe shines out there maybe but weren’t they the ones that always ended up getting hurt? That’s no way to think. Pull it together and focus. You won’t get anywhere tonight with this kind of garbage floating around your head. The air up here was good for staying sharp but you’re really making it awful hard. He slipped the old Floorsheims on his feet and walked back in to the bathroom to comb his hair.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Steak and Potatoes at the Fairmont
Pete had tickets for a 7:00am flight that left Logan Airport in Boston and was set to arrive at Charles DeGaulle by 7:00pm Parisian time. He had arranged to have dinner with old Tom the night before he left since he happened to be in town with his production company and was staying at the Fairmont hotel. The old Fairmont (as opposed to the new Fairmont that was just built in battery park) was right next to the Trinity church on Copley Plaza and it only took Pete about five minutes to walk from the Back Bay train station to the hotel with his heavy leather bag. He had grown up in Boston and as he walked he thought it was strange being back with everything smaller and cleaner and being able to cover ground so much faster. A hot dog vendor outside the station had made Pete remember his hunger but if he was up on things he knew Stefan Jarausch was still the head chef at the Fairmont and he wanted to take absolute advantage. He had never actually been inside the hotel before but once he arrived he was impressed by all the dark oak and the gold used in the decoration. The woman working behind the desk had a hell of a bad attitude as he placed his bag down and asked for her to call Tom down and he was wondering about it all until he looked down at his own wool suit that was maybe a touch too simple for the decor.
Tom came down the stairs after a few minutes and they shook hands and clapped each other on the back. It was noted by both the lady at the counter and Pete that Tom’s suit matched the decor quite well indeed. “How are you man? It’s been a while” said Tom, taking Pete’s bag and handing it to one of the grim looking bellhops who took it upstairs without a word. Pete wondered about the tipping situation but was too hungry to worry “I’ve worked up a helluva appetite pal lets go see what they’ve got in the chow hall.”
“Good ol’ Pete.”
“Good ol’ Tom. What are you drinking?” Pete asked as they sat down in a pair of the heavily padded and ornamented chairs on either side of the square table.
“Black label on the rocks, you?”
“I’ll have the same but I’ll need some club soda on the side old man - I’ll have the agita with this empty stomach”
The waitress took their drink orders and they arrived fast with a separate glass of ice for each whiskey and one of those old fashioned pressurized glass bottles with the tube for the soda. Another round was ordered with the food and Pete very much enjoyed utilizing the soda tube. They both agreed that the whole set up was quite civilized indeed so they drank to “Adolf Loos and The Fairmont.”
Pete ate more than he could remember eating in a while, following the cheese and paté appetizer with an enormous steak and mashed potatoes and glazed green beans. They talked as most longtime friends tend to, referring back to the old days and how those experiences had informed their more recent decisions. When he was finished with his plate Pete sat back in the chair and sprayed some more soda in to the fourth whiskey of the night.
“You know Tom, I’m feeling pretty good right about now.”
“Well I’d hope so Pete, we’ve practically finished the bottle of the black stuff”
" Now that's certainly a contributing factor, but let me tell you, I feel pretty good right about now and I felt pretty lousy about coming in to town on such a nice day as today.”
“Well thanks buddy.”
“Of course, nothing personal old pal it’s a strange thing really.” Pete looked up at the big twelve point bucks head on the wall and wondered about it before continuing. “You know I grew up here in town and I wasn’t happy about moving out there to the country in the slightest but now, it seems like the only place I can imagine spending my time. It’s nothing serious but just some vaguely considered idea that I have about people from the city - not just Bostonians but I'm under the impression that most city folk seem to have their moral compasses poorly calibrated.”
There was a long silence at the table as they each considered this profound statement and Pete knew this was his last drink of the night.
North Korea is Totally Insane
From today's KNS report: http://www.kcna.co.jp/item/2009/200908/news10/20090810-15ee.html
"Japan will never be able to escape the curse and isolation from the international community if it continues playing sleight of hand, seized with the wicked and brazen-faced disposition inherent to an island country and an anachronistic wild ambition for domination and expansion.
The army and people of the DPRK will surely force Japan to pay for all the thrice-cursed crimes related to the sexual slavery committed by the Japanese imperialists in the past."
Copyright (C) KOREA NEWS SERVICE(KNS) All Rights Reserved.
Steamers & Kelp Pt. 9
He let up on the drag and heard again the scream of the reel as the fish took out the line offered. He handed the rod up to Bill who smiled and said “woah Pete you really got something here. Something big I mean look at the way the rod jerks.” “It’s not a flounder buddy” Pete grunted lifting himself by his arms up and over the shelf feeling all hollow and sick inside from thinking about losing the fish in the rocks. He knew that with the line he gave, the fish would have gone out around the point by now but now he just had to bring her in fast before she could find a place to hide and get the line all snagged. He took the rod back from Bill and started to reel in. She seemed bigger than before and fought hard once she felt the hook set deeper, making pete walk with her sideways along the slope of rock. Bill kept his hand on the back of Pete’s vest to keep him from sliding in. He was so close to the water now that they were both getting soaked from the spray and Bill could tell that one more big push could pull Pete down and in. Pete knew he had to dig in to her now or risk getting the bastard caught up in the mess below so he set his feet perpendicular to the water and dug in hard pulling up on the rod and taking in line fast. She fought like hell and he could tell he had her now as long as she didn’t get caught in any rocks so he screwed down the drag, giving her nothing and making sure she couldn’t dive. Taking in every inch of slack and pulling hard up and taking her in more and more and then all of the sudden there was nothing.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Steamers & Kelp Pt. 8
Pete was still setting up when he saw Bill cast far and high in the direction of Block Island. The tide would take her in the opposite direction he thought as he secured the body of his squid by running the hook through both eyes. With the rig all prepared, Pete reached in to the bottom of the bucket and pulled out two Heineken beers. One of which he handed to Bill who accepted without looking away from the end of the rod. Pete put the other can in his pocket and, supporting himself with his free arm, hopped down on to a shelf facing the waters in lee of the big rock. The noise of the wind was cut to nothing upon landing in the protected alcove. He cast out, careful not to overshoot and risk getting caught in the granite that hid just under the surface about twenty yards out. The wind pulled the line toward the shore as it went out Pete reeled in to compensate. He had fished there enough to know the difference between dragging on the kelp and bites and he could tell immediately that he had a customer. He saw the end of the rod jump with that crazy unpredictable motion and jerked the rod to set the hook and then came the high pitched scream of the reel before he screwed the drag down. He felt the nerves in his fingers and his mind was sharp against the cold and he called up to Bill “hey I think I got something pal.” Bill looked down and knew it was bad when he saw the line striking out left toward the point of the rock and Pete stuck in the recess trying to keep the fish away from the point. This bastard is big Pete thought. Bigger than I thought. If I let her get around the point and in to the rocks and the surf who knows what the hell will happen. I’ve only got 15 pound test on this rod and she feels a helluva lot bigger than that.
The RIP Mikey Dread Mash (old)
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