A Handful of the Half Baked
A few years ago I was a single fellow with a not too impressive career and a workplace four blocks from home. I did blog prodigously because how much time can you hang in traffic over four blocks?
"Yeah, got hung up crossing third. Somebody had thrown a shoelace and the left lane was blocked."
Add to that the less than impressive career which basically involved occupying an office and maintaining a 98.6 degree body temperature. Ah but for the good old days.
These days I've leveraged my experience and education to be one of the faster hamsters on a wheel going basically nowhere. Add to that an office that is essentially your briefcase so you work whereever you are. That means anywhere from forty minutes to four hours from home. Given that, blogging has taken somewhat of a back seat in that originality suffers when you're exhausted.
To wit: "I wonder if I'm fuckin' tired is funnier or somehow more ironic than simply I'm tired."
That ain't blogging, it's bitching.
You'll have to accept my latest offering, a couple of kernels of the unpopped contents of the brainpan.
Over at the second novel; Call Us the Knitting Circle, the boys are going to Kentucky to help a friend of Harry's collect back child support by pretending to be east coast wise guys. In a future bunny, Gustav Batman and Ehud Rabeen will fight crime as the unassuming third cello and first violin (respectively) of the Vienna City orchestra. Maybe an entirely concocted travel journal of Cog and Bunny go cross country in search of the perfect fried chicken. Hottest top toys for 2010 is in the offing once I figure out what the damn electronic devils are meant to do in the first place.
But admittedly, these are ideas whose crust though browning, are still basically unbaked goop at their core.
Just wanted to let you know I've not been abducted by the taliban and the Third Marine Corps are laughing wildly at demands for ransom.
This month, anyway.
Bunny on.
"Yeah, got hung up crossing third. Somebody had thrown a shoelace and the left lane was blocked."
Add to that the less than impressive career which basically involved occupying an office and maintaining a 98.6 degree body temperature. Ah but for the good old days.
These days I've leveraged my experience and education to be one of the faster hamsters on a wheel going basically nowhere. Add to that an office that is essentially your briefcase so you work whereever you are. That means anywhere from forty minutes to four hours from home. Given that, blogging has taken somewhat of a back seat in that originality suffers when you're exhausted.
To wit: "I wonder if I'm fuckin' tired is funnier or somehow more ironic than simply I'm tired."
That ain't blogging, it's bitching.
You'll have to accept my latest offering, a couple of kernels of the unpopped contents of the brainpan.
Over at the second novel; Call Us the Knitting Circle, the boys are going to Kentucky to help a friend of Harry's collect back child support by pretending to be east coast wise guys. In a future bunny, Gustav Batman and Ehud Rabeen will fight crime as the unassuming third cello and first violin (respectively) of the Vienna City orchestra. Maybe an entirely concocted travel journal of Cog and Bunny go cross country in search of the perfect fried chicken. Hottest top toys for 2010 is in the offing once I figure out what the damn electronic devils are meant to do in the first place.
But admittedly, these are ideas whose crust though browning, are still basically unbaked goop at their core.
Just wanted to let you know I've not been abducted by the taliban and the Third Marine Corps are laughing wildly at demands for ransom.
This month, anyway.
Bunny on.
posted by The Caustic Bunny at Thursday, December 02, 2010
3 Comments:
Good to know!
I think my blog was vacant most of '09. I'm trying to make up for lost time.
good to know. HATE it when someone throws a shoelace.
thank you, btw, for the offer to rough up the dealership. from now on, you can be my enforcer bunny. (and the image that leapt to mind with "enforcer bunny" just made me snort orange juice, which i'm going to blame on you. thanks!) hopefully, i'll never have to deal with them again. ever. never ever. we'll see... if so, you're up.
only if we can dovetail the journey with my quest for the perfect chicken-fried steak.
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