Wars and Windmills

02 February 2006

Miss

i miss my beard. or face merkin as young joneseph would poetically call it. currently my boss feels they are not becoming of a server of steaks...as though it is a prestigious position, because the thing is, it's not. that's the thing.

i miss the joy of saturday morning cartoons. i have not felt in my adult life the equivalent elation that accompanies awaking at dawns ass-crack and waiting for voltron, he-man, thundercats...et al. the simplicity of the life is what rings true now. the main decisions of a saturday morn were which show to watch, smurfs or gi-joe (which were on at the same time), or train with jack in karate instead of watch cartoons (which, honestly was no real decision in the any definition of the word).

i miss the hedonism of my teens. but as a wise man once said: "I am tired of hoping for the next best thing. It is like the paradox of hedonism: when you not looking for a good time, it seeks you out like a badger and bites your ass in the night." too true, pal.

i miss the time when common sense was common...take that as you will. it seems however, that i am becoming more and more surrounded by dumb people. now, i am by no means the sharpest knife, or brightest bulb, or whatever metaphor you choose (as matt, mark or joe can attest), and maybe it is just my lot in life to attract these yahoos, or it maybe outback's new policy of "hire only the slow ones" but when a server comes running to the kitchen frantic about how long his table 13 has waited for their food, only to find out they were half way through the meal he just forgot to check at the table, i stop and think and try not to swear, due to the family environment...a battle constantly lost. or when a patron orders cheese fries and soup then complains that her soup is cold and tastes funny when no actual soup has been delivered to the table, she ate the ranch dressing that comes with the cheese fries, i feel like kicking my own crotch. oh people.
well, that is not all i miss...not all at all.

i have no idea how to end this so here is a quote: “The optimist builds himself safe inside a cell and paints the inside walls sky-blue and blocks up the door and says he’s in heaven”
--D. H. Lawrence

4 comments:

  1. The fresh hound...

    a fine entry into the blog. I am glad that you commented on "A Million Little..." I know that Oprah truly does a lot of good things for a lot of people, but she is out of her element on this one, the crusader o' truth.

    as for beards, mine is on the warpath...a little hard for a teutonic/scottish wonder like myself to grow a solid beard (the calico..you know) but i am loving it. all in time for my next escapade into the streets of Edinburgh...hey, do you realize where we were a year ago today? The Easton? Either there or on a south-bound TGV. the best o' times. I just remembered the "lady" in the D'Orsay who about wolfed my head down for asking about a Winslow Homer painting...I was trying my best French...I didn't even say Gerard DePardue!

    good to see you blogging. quite the quixotic blog title...me rikey.

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  2. happy anniversary...i am envyious beyond allshades of green that you are going back...espcially to the Easton. ninja proof rooms and the mount olympus of bacon gods

    ah the anger of the french, maybe they dont know that we really didn't change the name to "freedom fries"

    love the new name.

    thanks for commenting...

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  3. Nothing will ever compare to Saturday morning cartoons. Part of me died when I found that out.

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  4. Darren I had some thoughts I wanted to share with you, and enshrine upon your electronic attempt of literary imortality.

    Happy 4th of July tomorrow, unless you are reading this much later than July 3rd, which seems likely, then happy 4th of July a while ago. I think the 4th of July could and should be my favorite holiday, but unfortunately tomorrow will be lame for three main reasons which I will explain forthwith; 1. Any time an American holiday encourages it’s citizens to blow things up as a sign of patriotism and in a fit of glee, but makes the tools whereby to do so illegal, is lame. I don’t think I have ever experience such annual annoyance and frustration at this level, nor do I think I ever will; unless the federal government designates every August 4th kick-Matt-in-the-teeth-day. 2. I have to work, which will more than likely include me, walking in a parade, under the Vegas sun; also very lame. 3. I don’t own a BBQ with accompanying steaks-a-plenty.

    Your heartfelt empathy is expected.

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