PotD – Pirate Utopia
March 31st, 2008 ryan
From fetid breath and sweat-laced steam does the amber backed beacon of hope spring forth.
Impossible? Watch your tone scallywag, we don’t stand for such brazen negativity in our utopia.
Beware of This and That
PotD – New Crap: 1 of 2
March 26th, 2008 ryan
The lubricated ease by which this device was unlocked was borderline embarrassing.
Object 2 of 2 is en route. In all honestly the last thing I should be doing is shelling out hard-earned benjamins for so much tech-related accoutrementia. I amass these objects and thereby raise the level of operational readiness from its previous state of decay, for what I don’t know. I am typing this prattle on the splintered shavings of a cobbled together machine whose previous owner was a sheik in that place out east. Heat distributive putty is so much dust and the integrity of otherwise inert moldings is brought to question as the machine spasms rhythmically, my communicative umbilicus soon to be cut.
PotD – Pupacy
March 25th, 2008 ryan
Weak sauce, I know.
While wandering random racks of the chi pub lib the above bulbous mass of brass was damn near humming by the window. This horrid, lacking shot of the pupa cart with its handle upraised – veins highlighted by the midday sun, was hastily taken as the section was crawling with pages. Paiges? Frakin’ shelf stockers. Their silent wanderings reek of hostility. Like an underpaid ninja.
It is a lazy, recumbent path I tread during the work week. Nearly every picture of the day shot can trace its roots to my cat, commute, or bibliophile interactions. I’ve temporarily commandeered a point-and-shoot which adds to this tiresome cycle and one can only shoot so much USPS sticker graffiti before calling it quits.
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The white t-shirt I’m wearing today is indescribably shorter than normal, thereby exposing my dress-shirt covered midriff section directly to my twill pants and belt buckle. It feels grating and awkward and no one knows but me.
PotD – Papacy
March 20th, 2008 ryan
Because standing outside the Chicago Union Train Station with a giant, ornately framed depiction of the former Pope is normal.
PotD – VSD
March 17th, 2008 ryan
Multi-colored highlighters in hand did I wander, clipboard in… the other hand. Last time I did an asset allocation shit was intense. Today = NOT SO MUCH.
PotD – Caloric Sludge
March 15th, 2008 ryan
Though the shadows usually aren’t this long when I break my morning fast, the other three subjects are damn near constant.
Nearly every morning for the past two years the above has passed my gullet and helped fuel my morning induced disdain, irresistible charm, and otherwise ill-fed sack of meat and bone I cruise around in.
Pictured far right is a slurry of:
- 1 cup whole milk
- 1 banana
- 6 frozen strawberries
- 50g whey protein
The other two are more easily identifiable, the pill being a multivitamin and the cup holding relatively strong coffee. To be honest the coffee is a wild card, often replaced with different incarnations of java or tea – though always containing caffeine. The more the better.
All told everything sits in my stomach like so much half-chewed cud given that it’s typically consumed in stolen minutes as part of my rush to drudgery, and the consistency of items is more for ease of preparation and nutrition than enjoyment.
PotD – Boil Order
March 14th, 2008 ryan
Prompted to break earbud suction by the public address system on my train, I listened to the auditory stylings of a local conductor which informed me of the boil order which was in effect for the residents of my current suburban pod dwelling. Nice of them to say, really, for it’s rare that I tune in to what is surely a repeating powerpoint on the village’s cable channel.
There are some that look back to the hardships of their past for empowerment, often bringing to question whether or not they’d make the cut now as they did then. Despite his pretentious mewling on the posh, smug, foodie inducing hysteria that is modern gastronomy I remain a stout fan of Anthony Bourdain. Though a self-labeled bad boy constantly reestablishing his gritty chef-cred the guy entertains and from time to time offers insights that I imagine would mirror some of my own were circumstances twisted my way to his sizable level of success not only as a chef, but as a writer and TV show host. Quick to bash others for their success and popularity, biggest example being Emeril Lagasse — which he later redacted, Tony himself was apparently heckled for his recent ascension which prompted him to man up and time travel 8 years to his past job as line chef.
So this week’s episode of No Reservations featured not some distant locale but Tony at work on the line donning whites, graying hair tied back, face red with exertion as he visibly struggled to keep in step with the elaborate dance the lunch and dinner rush demands. It is to his credit that his short comings were not, in fact, edited for the benefit of his image. Ballsy move but I think his proponents appreciate the honesty. Hardships considered to be victories naturally spawn cocky oratory and a palpable scent of arrogance. Legitimacy justifies, I say, and if you don’t like it you can man up your self.
As an upper-middle class white kid it took my striking out in a largely unapproved manner to experience any real hardship. Thusly, I’m a cocky bastard (both true!) constantly looking down his nose at the doughy, spoiled masses that make up the majority in this country. The ripple effect of the natives here not having access to potable water from the tap for 48 hours spreads further than I would have previously thought and, to be frank, cracks me the hell up.
Your Nine O’Clock Woodge Update
March 13th, 2008 ryan
My cat goes through phases.
These typically revolve around a favorite place to sleep or method of terrorizing, or as in this case both simultaneously. He’s gone from the screen of the leopard gecko’s tank to the top of the couch to a self-made nest of burrowed bedspreads to the hole in the couch left over from the movers. Lately any time I’m on my home computer he jumps up and forcibly wedges himself between my back and the backrest of this office chair, should I get up he flattens his bulk in order to maximize surface area exposure and absorb any remnants of body heat I may have left behind.
Return to my chair, of late, has not been an option.
Technically that’s a yawn, his attacks are too fast to register on film.