Anyone, perhaps, who has ever known what it's like to be a younger brother has, indubitably, felt at one time or another the psychological barrier which often prevents us from scaling the mountainous examples set in place by those within whose shadow we seemed destined to inhabit in perpetuo. At certain junctures (no, that's the wrong word), at extended periods of time, I have experienced the sting of trying to measure up to the achievements and physical prowess and skill, particularly in the field of sports, which my brother has demonstrated, and my cup has, at sundry times, run over with coming short of measuring up.
However, despite this often psychological and sometimes physical obstacle, I am pleased to report that such things need not always remain in place. Just today, I beat my older brother in a game of ping pong (21-17), as well as in two games of pool. He destroyed me in basketball, but I do not wish to address that, as it nothing new or extraordinary or unexpected. Ping pong on the other hand was completely unexpected, most of all by me. It is a dream come true; I have triumphed at last.
That being said, this intrafamilial comparative procedure, though common I'm sure, is actually an example of pure excrement. Unfortunately, the rarity of such victories has ensured that I would not fully understand this point until now. We excel in different thing; we are interested in different things. We are different people. No matter how much we wish to be weighed in an even balance, it will turn out better if we realize sooner rather than later that we all need a different set of scales.
So I have pursued this course, namely desiring to beat my brother in sports, only to realize that I have been a fool.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Attacked
I was attacked today. I was minding my own business, trying to do some research, when out of the blue...
BOOM!
A message popped up on my screen, informing me that my computer was being infected by all sorts of nasty viruses and malware. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it, and I'm not sure why my Internet security was taking a holiday just then; all I know is, I am writing this blog on someone else's computer because mine is being flushed and cleaned and thoroughly disinfected at the computer guy's place.
Tiny silver lining: my computer was needing a checkup anyway, and at the rate I was getting around to it taking to someone to have it cleaned out and have my DVD drive fixed, I was never going to get around to it. Almost three years is a long time to own a thing without having any maintenance on it.
Big black cumulonimbus cloud full of lightning an' thunder an' golfball-sized hail an' stuff: I could have lost everything on my computer to those nasty digital creepy-crawlies. I do have backups of things on CDs, so that's a mercy, but I could have had personal information stolen as well. I mean, I don't think I keep anything very personal on my computer, but you never know....
The funny thing is this: my sister-in-law told me the other day, when I baby-sat her children, that she had not ever been away from them for that amount of time. I now know, to a small extent, how she must have felt. Until now, I have not, since becoming the proud proprietor of my HP laptop computer (I'm not exactly certain why I was proud of owning an HP laptop, but I think it's because I was naive at the time regarding the perceived quality of the d--- piece of technological poo with which I was purchasing), ever been separated from it like this. Not that I'm on it all the time, you understand, (though I am on it a lot) but it's always been there when I needed it. Now, I need it, I want it, and I can't have it because some practically joking sphincter decided to relieve himself on my dual-core processor and already overworker hard drive. You know, I keep going to my room to do work on my computer, only to rediscover that it isn't ther, and that it isn't even in my house. It's an odd feeling, this involuntary absence, sort of like sitting down to a chair you know was behind you the last time you looked and finding, once you've fallen on your buttocks, that someone thought that it would be funny to pull it away at the last second. Only it isn't funny at all, and the chair thief not only won't give your seat back, but he put his fist through it and, until you've paid him to re-upholster it, he won't give it back.
Wait a minute. Did I say it was the funny thing? I meant the annoying-as-a-blowfly-stuck-up-your-left-nostril-that-won't-come-out sort of thing.
Ultimately, "so it goes" (though more in the Billy Joel sense rather than in the Kurt Vonnegut sense, but neither is really accurate) and c'est la vie, etc.--and of course I'm taking solace from the fact that it's raining on those who deserve the unwanted precipitation as well as on me--but this whole nefarious--not hilarious--situation is still irritating enough that even Tiny Tim might forego his usual charity and cheerfulness, raise his glass of warm milk in his right hand while brandishing his crutch like a weapon with the left, and raspily cry, "D--- those chair thieves, every one."
BOOM!
A message popped up on my screen, informing me that my computer was being infected by all sorts of nasty viruses and malware. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it, and I'm not sure why my Internet security was taking a holiday just then; all I know is, I am writing this blog on someone else's computer because mine is being flushed and cleaned and thoroughly disinfected at the computer guy's place.
Tiny silver lining: my computer was needing a checkup anyway, and at the rate I was getting around to it taking to someone to have it cleaned out and have my DVD drive fixed, I was never going to get around to it. Almost three years is a long time to own a thing without having any maintenance on it.
Big black cumulonimbus cloud full of lightning an' thunder an' golfball-sized hail an' stuff: I could have lost everything on my computer to those nasty digital creepy-crawlies. I do have backups of things on CDs, so that's a mercy, but I could have had personal information stolen as well. I mean, I don't think I keep anything very personal on my computer, but you never know....
The funny thing is this: my sister-in-law told me the other day, when I baby-sat her children, that she had not ever been away from them for that amount of time. I now know, to a small extent, how she must have felt. Until now, I have not, since becoming the proud proprietor of my HP laptop computer (I'm not exactly certain why I was proud of owning an HP laptop, but I think it's because I was naive at the time regarding the perceived quality of the d--- piece of technological poo with which I was purchasing), ever been separated from it like this. Not that I'm on it all the time, you understand, (though I am on it a lot) but it's always been there when I needed it. Now, I need it, I want it, and I can't have it because some practically joking sphincter decided to relieve himself on my dual-core processor and already overworker hard drive. You know, I keep going to my room to do work on my computer, only to rediscover that it isn't ther, and that it isn't even in my house. It's an odd feeling, this involuntary absence, sort of like sitting down to a chair you know was behind you the last time you looked and finding, once you've fallen on your buttocks, that someone thought that it would be funny to pull it away at the last second. Only it isn't funny at all, and the chair thief not only won't give your seat back, but he put his fist through it and, until you've paid him to re-upholster it, he won't give it back.
Wait a minute. Did I say it was the funny thing? I meant the annoying-as-a-blowfly-stuck-up-your-left-nostril-that-won't-come-out sort of thing.
Ultimately, "so it goes" (though more in the Billy Joel sense rather than in the Kurt Vonnegut sense, but neither is really accurate) and c'est la vie, etc.--and of course I'm taking solace from the fact that it's raining on those who deserve the unwanted precipitation as well as on me--but this whole nefarious--not hilarious--situation is still irritating enough that even Tiny Tim might forego his usual charity and cheerfulness, raise his glass of warm milk in his right hand while brandishing his crutch like a weapon with the left, and raspily cry, "D--- those chair thieves, every one."
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
To E.E. and Gertrude
?
Am I right
to believe
believe that
by means of my fingers
fingers and mind
mind within lines
means that I
must ignore invention
?
If
I
have
drift
for
you
to get,
surely
the letters
are allowed to drift themselves if
they
want to be gotten?
Direction defines meaninglessness
Ergo
I confess nothing
p and d
The Chinese write u o
w
n
and however they please
If they feel
the need to do so.
They have nothing
to lose
by going
somewhere besides forward
with perplexed simplicity;
And they haven't punctuation
either.
as far as I know anyway(
or do they)
They have enough
Enough
meaning without adding
and subtracting
(meaningless)
more!
Each line line each connects
connects lines
lines within lines
lines outside of time
time and space
and dimensional confines
which are not mine
but his
And timely finely sketches
etches
traces faces
faces facing
sand and dune and hill and real
which do not do
(do not do which)
water works better
better for writing writing
and chiseling the infinite
or infinitely finite
without disturbing
or perturbing
the finite Infinite&
No one can tell
)should they?(
And I won't
won't bring myself
to explain
Not yet yet not
I thought not
I thought I brought
my unwanted thoughts
My my
what is it
I have said
You tell me
Me tell you
It's the same
If it's the same
If only only if
If you only heard me
heard me writing
What it means means
Meaning what:
the lines finely twined
within time
Time within twine finds mine
not yours;
I cannot say;
(not today)
or tomorrow even
even in evening
but the next day
day after that
that after day
that day is almost certain,
the day
I keep my secret
keep keep
to myself
And you will find out
sooner than I
or as soon as I
what we never knew
or hoped?
[Note: In case you are wondering what just happened, don't ask me. However, feel free to look up the poetic works of E. E. Cummings or Gertrude Stein's "A Completed Portrait of Picasso" for examples of whatever this is that I have written above]
Am I right
to believe
believe that
by means of my fingers
fingers and mind
mind within lines
means that I
must ignore invention
?
If
I
have
drift
for
you
to get,
surely
the letters
are allowed to drift themselves if
they
want to be gotten?
Direction defines meaninglessness
Ergo
I confess nothing
p and d
The Chinese write u o
w
n
and however they please
If they feel
the need to do so.
They have nothing
to lose
by going
somewhere besides forward
with perplexed simplicity;
And they haven't punctuation
either.
as far as I know anyway(
or do they)
They have enough
Enough
meaning without adding
and subtracting
(meaningless)
more!
Each line line each connects
connects lines
lines within lines
lines outside of time
time and space
and dimensional confines
which are not mine
but his
And timely finely sketches
etches
traces faces
faces facing
sand and dune and hill and real
which do not do
(do not do which)
water works better
better for writing writing
and chiseling the infinite
or infinitely finite
without disturbing
or perturbing
the finite Infinite&
No one can tell
)should they?(
And I won't
won't bring myself
to explain
Not yet yet not
I thought not
I thought I brought
my unwanted thoughts
My my
what is it
I have said
You tell me
Me tell you
It's the same
If it's the same
If only only if
If you only heard me
heard me writing
What it means means
Meaning what:
the lines finely twined
within time
Time within twine finds mine
not yours;
I cannot say;
(not today)
or tomorrow even
even in evening
but the next day
day after that
that after day
that day is almost certain,
the day
I keep my secret
keep keep
to myself
And you will find out
sooner than I
or as soon as I
what we never knew
or hoped?
[Note: In case you are wondering what just happened, don't ask me. However, feel free to look up the poetic works of E. E. Cummings or Gertrude Stein's "A Completed Portrait of Picasso" for examples of whatever this is that I have written above]
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Pasta Carbonara
"The time has come my little friends to talk of food and things" (from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass). Today I have a tasty dish for you that I made only yesterday. I was in a bind because 6:00 p.m. came around and no one had yet made dinner. Not because we're slackers, you see, but actually more because my sister had been throwing up the day before and my mother, feeling the groaning and lurching and churnings of sympathy, had no inclination to eat. Therefore, I, noticing the time, took it upon myself to make something delicious that would only take a little while to prepare. Upon finding a half-consumed package of bacon in the meat drawer in the refrigerator and the leftover bits of ham (from Sunday dinner) in a tupperware on the second shelf, I suddenly sensed a delightful little blip on my revelatory radar: Pasta Carbonara.
Now, I had not made the dish for more than five years (not since I came back from Italy in 2006), so it was a little odd that out of nowhere I thought to make it. However, make it I did, ed fu veramente una meraviglia straordinaria come un sogno fantastico che ricevi senza dormire, cogli occhi aperti e la bocca spalancata. By the way, I just made that one up. Right off the cuff.
Anyway, here's the recipe:
Pasta Carbonara
Four slices of bacon, cut into small pieces
1 cup of cooked ham
2 Tbsp. butter
1/4 medium-sized onion
4 eggs
3 Tbsp. milk
1 lb. linguine pasta
5 oz. parmesan or pecorino Romano, grated
Basil, salt, pepper, thyme, garlic to taste
Fry the bacon in a saucepan with the butter and onion. Boil the pasta according to the directions on the box. Whisk the eggs and milk together in a bowl. When the pasta is done, drain off the water, then quickly add the egg mixture to the pasta and stir. The heat from the pasta will cook the eggs in about a minute or so. Then add spices, bacon, ham, and cheese. Serves four people (Note: I found that out because Mom decided she was hungry after all, and Maren had had just about enough of crackers and 7UP). Buon appetito!
Now, I had not made the dish for more than five years (not since I came back from Italy in 2006), so it was a little odd that out of nowhere I thought to make it. However, make it I did, ed fu veramente una meraviglia straordinaria come un sogno fantastico che ricevi senza dormire, cogli occhi aperti e la bocca spalancata. By the way, I just made that one up. Right off the cuff.
Anyway, here's the recipe:
Pasta Carbonara
Four slices of bacon, cut into small pieces
1 cup of cooked ham
2 Tbsp. butter
1/4 medium-sized onion
4 eggs
3 Tbsp. milk
1 lb. linguine pasta
5 oz. parmesan or pecorino Romano, grated
Basil, salt, pepper, thyme, garlic to taste
Fry the bacon in a saucepan with the butter and onion. Boil the pasta according to the directions on the box. Whisk the eggs and milk together in a bowl. When the pasta is done, drain off the water, then quickly add the egg mixture to the pasta and stir. The heat from the pasta will cook the eggs in about a minute or so. Then add spices, bacon, ham, and cheese. Serves four people (Note: I found that out because Mom decided she was hungry after all, and Maren had had just about enough of crackers and 7UP). Buon appetito!
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