tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68028582010-02-08T21:41:41.910-05:00Target shootin' with the Gun Moll of the RevolutionTatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comBlogger1569125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-51989748284706492062010-02-08T20:58:00.003-05:002010-02-08T21:41:41.928-05:00

We're expecting a snowstorm tomorrow, which means that my neighbors and co-workers are still slathered in minty BenGay from the last one. I can't wait! By lunchtime tomorrow, every eye in my office will glance furtively at the tiny windows through which we in the basement observe weather and feet walking by. By mid-afternoon no one will compose a sentence that does not involve the word snow. By

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-69704013376319258492010-02-07T21:44:00.004-05:002010-02-08T10:44:00.062-05:00

The library at the unnamed university has always offered slightly odd folk a little leeway with social conventions. It seems likely that if I worked somewhere conformity was key I'd be tied up in a closet by now. Look, I'm just not like the other humans, I have a problem mitigated by heat and my workplace is chilly. It would be spiffy if I could heal up without sticking out like a sore thumb.

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-9354587590202842332010-02-06T21:35:00.002-05:002010-02-06T22:22:46.142-05:00

We were all so cozy. If you can believe it, outside a horn honked twice and Drusy, dressed like Audrey Hepburn, sailed down the stairs and sweetly warned us all not to wait up.

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-45213431975074723802010-02-04T20:43:00.007-05:002010-02-04T22:18:20.656-05:00

Usually, original pictures on Poor Impulse Control are taken by Pete, though sometimes I take them. Those are often pictures I crop thumbs out of and adjust for dumb darkness. These pictures were taken by the intrepid Darla at Lake Erie, near her house. Dad's third wife is Canadian, you know. You'd never guess but she looks just like a normal person. For example, if this were my neighbor's house,

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-18653789999808957702010-02-03T12:36:00.009-05:002010-02-03T15:02:10.955-05:00

I.If there's anything that can be gleaned from a thoughtful survey of the public discourse it's that the word freedom cannot be defined one way for all people.II.A bit less than twenty years ago, the then-boyfriend and I and two friends went to an exhibit of fledgeling virtual reality technology, considered at the time so far out there that the exhibit station was gathering dust until we arrived.

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-78159980765553840222010-02-02T19:24:00.002-05:002010-02-02T20:28:04.939-05:00

Today, I went back to the physical therapy building for an appointment with the massage therapist. Massage on my right hip is like lemon-scented Hell on Earth, so I lay on the table, laughing to keep from screaming for just over half an hour. He was working on one blindingly painful spot, moved to the other side and asked how that side felt. I allowed as how it was uncomfortable but not like the

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-18402267916142636782010-02-01T21:00:00.005-05:002010-02-01T22:25:22.559-05:00

A few years ago, my friend Trout had a CSA share with the unnamed university's agricultural extension's wacky farmer training program. The whole idea was new to me when she called one Friday from a business trip to ask if I could go pick up her weekly share. I drove out to the farm, rumbled across the PVC cow catcher and crept along the farm road about a half mile past a house and a sign

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-89869624998755700182010-01-31T21:46:00.002-05:002010-01-31T22:21:23.458-05:00

Never in my life have I personally been so frigging happy. Let's deal with that, shall we? Maybe it's the man, the food, the cats, the neighborhood, the job, the people - I can't say because I'm writing for shit and it's the middle of winter - but I am very happy, generally. Last week, I went to town meeting about sustainable living. One committee member said the schools aren't going to do

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-65531959424448685322010-01-30T21:00:00.004-05:002010-01-30T21:19:06.278-05:00

Pete's brand new antique English racer. We are willing spring to arrive.My sisters Anya and Corinne pushed the whole town uphill through failed fire inspections, endless phone calls and dozens of rushed meetings to throw a benefit tonight for Haiti. They assembled a bake sale, a silent auction, an art show, musicians, speakers and the mayor of less than a week into an orderly if passionate

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-81772440311987678432010-01-28T18:45:00.005-05:002010-01-28T22:10:38.643-05:00

I drag around a buttload of stuff on my bike, but this is amazing.On any given day in Northampton, Massachusetts, you might see something that would raise eyebrows elsewhere: Someone on a bike, pulling a giant trailer heaped with trash. You'll see this in rain, snow, or heat and humidity; on residential streets and on Main Street; even going uphill in traffic.Since late 2002, the Pedal People

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-49702361212518269562010-01-26T21:14:00.003-05:002010-01-26T21:38:35.003-05:00

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha -Alleging a plot to tamper with phones in Democratic Sen. Mary Landrieu's office in the Hale Boggs Federal Building in downtown New Orleans, the FBI arrested four people Monday, including James O'Keefe, 25, a conservative filmmaker whose undercover videos at ACORN field offices severely damaged the advocacy group's credibility.Also arrested were Joseph

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-72698069318748738532010-01-25T20:10:00.003-05:002010-01-25T21:18:13.542-05:00

I learned everything I know about glam close up shots from Bruce Lee movies.Recently, video of that radio comedy troupe I was in turned up on YouTube. The videos are of shows we did while working up new material for the radio show or because we were too bleary to refuse a request. Sometimes they're funny. Sometimes they're true dogs. This is all from a time just before I lost my memory, so I

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-32106376319779796032010-01-24T20:57:00.003-05:002010-01-24T21:18:16.851-05:00

Lovely Topaz, her arms around my hand, falls asleep.The vet diagnosed Topaz's smelly breath and seeming fever as a painful gum condition that causes inflammation and makes veterinarians weepy. I listened to him talk about treatments, feeling like I'd been punched in the gut. I took the prescription to the drug store near my house, where times have changed. For years, I tricked the departed Larry,

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-65147801217705745422010-01-22T21:59:00.002-05:002010-01-22T22:51:00.131-05:00

Bruschetta on the banquet at Lois's surprise party while we were hiding.Let us say you are experiencing a context shift, by which I mean you suddenly are not where you usually are, under circumstances that are out of your control. Perhaps you're stuck in this new place for your own good; perhaps you find yourself lost and awaiting rescue. Be patient, if you can, with those who seek to comfort you

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-36543656811801161352010-01-20T07:08:00.012-05:002010-01-20T09:06:35.442-05:00

I do three stupid things before breakfast every day, which makes me an authority on the forehead slap, a world class practitioner of Let Me Rephrase That Last Dumbass Remark, and a gold medal winner in the all-around I Meant To Do That. Thus, I can spot a talented fuckup from a safe distance. Ladies and gentlemen, someone at Mexico - One Plate At A Time - some writer, producer, guest or star -

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-75997810858066320822010-01-19T17:53:00.005-05:002010-01-20T09:25:55.031-05:00

Earlier today, Dr. Mark Hyman's bleakly titled article at the Huffington Post caught my eye. Haiti Journal: Hacksaws and Vodka was everything you might expect about the grimness of the field hospitals, but also gently heartening. The situation is slowly improving. The coverage of the crisis has been bugging the shit out of me, and at the bottom of Hyman's page, we find a striking image of why.

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-63425768045933929372010-01-18T20:42:00.003-05:002010-01-18T22:16:17.206-05:00

The tiny town in which I live, like other tiny towns all over the country, maintains a food pantry. Twice in the last year, calls went out that the pantry was empty and our neighbors were in trouble. The first time was startling. I didn't know we had a food pantry. Volunteers and donations turned up; the pantry shelves filled up nicely and overflowed into a storage closet in the senior center.

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-35147828376528067322010-01-16T20:55:00.004-05:002010-01-16T22:29:23.339-05:00

Yesterday, I got a survey and solicitation from the DNC, and those asslicking pigfuckers have a lot of nerve asking me for a list of my priorities and a wad of money after they spent the last year fucking pigs, licking asses and punching hippies like me. So I sent back a mostly completed survey and a paint-peeling description of why I will never give the party another red cent. If you receive a

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-85314406050021900212010-01-15T07:44:00.005-05:002010-01-15T14:12:18.191-05:00

As aid trickles into Port-au-Prince, I feel as if I am watching a horror show I've seen before. In the days after the levies broke in New Orleans, one of my co-workers quietly asked if I thought help was slow to arrive. I said I was sure of it. Her son who had flown many rescue missions with the Air Force, had told her it took time to coordinate a large operation. I told her she should not expect

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-29014806275283328612010-01-14T07:48:00.002-05:002010-01-14T08:43:44.458-05:00

The footage from Haiti is heartbreaking. The blogosphere is full of advice about donating to relief efforts, but just in case you happen to find yourself here at a decisive moment:The American Red CrossDoctors Without BordersOxfamMercy CorpsSearch Dog FoundationUNICEFSomeone I trust recommended Partners In Health, though I can't personally vouch for them. For the long road ahead:Habitat For

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-4671392760750307232010-01-13T07:03:00.003-05:002010-01-13T09:31:38.387-05:00

Last Saturday, the family and half the tiny town threw - flung, perhaps - a surprise party for my niece Lois's seventeenth birthday. Pete turned out beautiful, sculptural platters laden with bright fruit, cheeses and crisp vegetables and an abundant variety of dips, breads and crackers. My sister Daria arranged the tables. She told me later, "Pete put down a platter and I said, 'Nice. But not

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-50917478623670900272010-01-12T07:59:00.007-05:002010-01-12T08:55:16.100-05:00

Though I awoke an hour before the alarm this morning thinking about it, I neglected to take chicken out of the freezer. I'm all in bits and pieces. Last week, an email arrived, and I was delighted to see these words in this order:I am told that the truck is now placed in such a manner that we can squeeze by.Yes, that's true. We are all hoping to squeeze by.This sounds simple enough:The Department

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-24379875695970027252010-01-10T22:49:00.007-05:002010-01-11T07:51:34.220-05:00

Dear Exo-Pro:Just saw your TV commercial for the first time. Perhaps your neoprene cold weather face mask plays really well in the Midwest, but here in New Jersey, your products are just fucking dangerous. Wonder why?This model, which you had the good taste to title EFFNBLACK, would certainly cause the wearer, unless he was effing white, a world of trouble. This mask is practically a signed

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-37455747861971042892010-01-10T11:18:00.003-05:002010-01-10T11:34:19.675-05:00

I swear to sweet baby Jeebus: this morning, I found a bag of masa flour selling on EBay for $9.98 - used.In other news: today, we will acquire banana leaves or I shall have to reconsider my opinion of my zip code. Reconsidering is thinking. That's hard work, my pet.

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6802858.post-72530352823660768212010-01-09T00:04:00.002-05:002010-01-09T00:19:41.624-05:00

Let's go back to the beginning, shall we? There are certain, mathematical ways to apprehend the harmony one hears in the chorus: it's perfect. It's the vaulted ceiling of related guys what sing together. But that has nothing to do with the goosebumps you feel when the Neville Brothers sing the word free.Are you?

Tatahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14639571609720073406noreply@blogger.com