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Professor Liddle-Oldman

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You’re Waxing Your Modem, Trying To Make It Go Faster [Nov. 20th, 2009|07:58 pm]
I believe we can all agree that it’s all about the Pentiums.

Check here if you need reminding.

When Amish Paradise came out (I’m so sure you know that one that I’m not even going to link it), I looked up the original, and, to my surprise, it wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t the usual “I fuck me a ho, then I fuck me four mo” misogyny; it was even thoughtful.

Tell me why are we, so blind to see
That the ones we hurt, are you and me


(I’m sure you also know how Cool Whip lost whatever shred of credit he might have still had by elaborately threatening Weird Al, but that’s neither here not there. Just very, very funny.)

I also looked up the original of Pentiums – apparently they felt it was all about the Benjamins (I’m impressed with Dr. January myself, of course) – and discovered that it was terrible. Mushy, mumbled, incoherent, and boring.

My point, I guess, is that Al can make a silk parody even out of a pig’s wretched ear.
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While I Pondered, Weak And Weary, Over Many A Quaint And Curious Volume Of Forgotten Lore [Nov. 20th, 2009|05:10 pm]
Just returned from my walk. Though it was raining this morning, by noon it had cleared out and cooled off just a trifle. I went for a stroll, stopped at Bugger Kink for a soda, and finally went by the old house to pick up the mail and a case of empty notebooks.

Notebooks, you ask? Empty ones?

I’ve been rescuing boxes of stuff we stored in the basement at Sagamore Street. Most of the contents have been discarded or brought to Goodwill or donated to the church (that would be cases of random mugs.) But the last thing to come out was paperwork – 14 cases of notes, notebooks, correspondence, documents, and the novel I wrote at 16 as an English assignment. (She’s assigned several pages of anything at all a week. It got away from me.) They’re piled around me. I have to go through them.

Among the contents is a project I’ve been working on – year-by-year notebooks of letters, diary entries, writing, memos, anything worth holding on to bound in a linear narrative. One case of notebooks came out moldy. Luckily, I never throw anything away, and I have plenty of spare notebooks to move the contents over to. The moldy ones, they do get thrown away.

In fact, a great deal of this stuff will go – I hauled an entire garbage barrel into the office. But it’s going to take a bit to go through. And I really have to think about my more obsessive tendencies as I do it. But at least at the end I won’t have to wonder where everything I wrote or noted is – I’ll know.

And somewhere in this duffage is my diary, the paper one I started in the Johnson administration. That’ll be interesting and embarrassing. (I’m always upset to find that I was a perfectly normal 12-year-old, and not preternaturally mature.) Let the review begin!
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2012 [Nov. 20th, 2009|11:14 am]
You know, it used to be that when someone failed, utterly, they'd go away. Where is Dewey today? But Sarah Palin is absolutely everywhere I look. Not only is she a failure, she imploded into a self-destructive mess. Why is she still here?

(My only guess is a horrible one -- she's being positioned for her 2012 run...)
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Not The Easter Parade [Nov. 19th, 2009|03:03 pm]
When I left the Sugar Bowl, I felt restless. I’d gone to the coffee shop first thing, to get a boost and to sure I didn’t find I was still in my bathrobe at three in the afternoon. I didn’t want to go right back to the house; I figured I was supposed to walk; so I walked.

I went North on Dot Ave, heading for Andrew Square. It’s an easy walk, actually; I’d done it in reverse several times when the subway was jammed up or snow had stopped it from coming out into the open. One passes by the new Carpenters Union building, and through the Polish shopping area (including the Euromart, which I amuse myself by imagining only takes Euros, like a hard currency store in the USSR). When I got there I was just warmed up, so I continued on toward Broadway Station.

North of Andrew, the road changes from residential to industrial, with great swatches of empty land where dead industries have been destroyed. There’s enough nineteenth century brickwork and open garage doors to gaze at; everything is interesting if you look at it right. I hadn’t realized how hot it was going to get, though. I understand it was only in the sixties, but walking in the sun with a dark jacket on got sweaty fast. I slung the jacket over my manbag.

I reached Broadway, about a mile and a half from where I started, and paused to consider my options. I could pop up Broadway two blocks to Muls and have a second breakfast; I could just take the subway home; I could take the subway in town or to Cambridge; I could continue to walk to South Station; I could circle back and head home by another route. I decided I was hot and sweaty and burdened, so I just went home. But it was a walk!
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The Gods have no such feeling/ Of justice toward mankind. [Nov. 18th, 2009|02:48 pm]
[Current Location |United States, Massachusetts, Boston]
[mood |sad]

I need to add a gloss to my previous post. I do need to say that the boys are in terrible straits due to multi-generational madness and neurological hammerblows, not, really, from anything they are responsible for. Some are born to sweet delight; some are born to the endless night.
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And Who’s Hung Up On This Happiness Thing? [Nov. 18th, 2009|11:32 am]
I have no idea why I was in such a pissy and miserable mood Saturday.

The day was complicated. It was Robert’s birthday (Robert being Mrs. Professor’s older brother), so we had the boys and their cousin Diane and our friend Susan (as leavening) over for dinner. Rather than just get pizza, I was going to serve roast chicken, boiled baby Yukon Gold ‘taters, and steamed carrots. (They eat a shitload of frozen pizza, as bachelors, and I thought it would be an easy treat.)

While I was shopping, I had a hypoglycemic episode and had to get a snack. This always makes me exhausted afterward. When I got home, the girls (so to speak) nicely started prepping supper, which I for some reason took as a slight. (Plus, of course, Susan didn’t cut the carrots in precisely the way I would have…) And then the rolling disaster arrived.

Seeing the brothers is always difficult. Basically, they both have desperately sad, failed lives. Janet, Mrs. Professor, is really the only person who escaped that family alive. Neither has ever had a relationship; one has never worked and the other has always worked in retail; both are difficult for different reasons. (Richard’s response when I served the boiled potatoes: “What the fuck is this shit? Why aren’t we having pizza? That’s what I wanted!” Gracious is his middle name.)

The cousin, though she’s a nice person, always ramps up the chaos with her tendency toward shrill mania. I find that, as time goes on, I can deal with less and less noise and confusion in social settings, and I was never any good at social settings. I have only two responses to a party: become desperately depressed, or find a corner and go to sleep.

Then Susan, to be helpful, began to clear and wash the dishes, and that was enough to send me into the deepest funk. (Yeah, it sounds insane to me too.) The office has a French door, so I came in here and closed it and whined at you people (and all of you were lovely and supportive, I must say) until I could go back and be at least civilized.

One of the reasons Richard is so hard for me, is that he’s pretty much me, without twenty years of therapy and a sound and excellent marriage. I could easily still be that angry and bitter and disconnected. I try to help, but at fifty one’s habits and emotions are pretty well set.

I probably oughtn’t talk about my wife’s family in detail, and she might be mad at me, but I wanted to put down my thoughts on this where I can find them again. And where I can remind myself to cowboy up and Happy The Fuck Up and act like an adult, even under stress.

And that I'm not as alone as I think, even if I insist that I am.
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I Thought It Was Going To Be Named Dog Apocalypse [Nov. 16th, 2009|09:33 am]
So, I woke up in the middle of the night, and my brain said "You could name the band Happy Happy Monkey Vulva.

I have to stop waking up.
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Party Animal [Nov. 14th, 2009|09:49 pm]
I'm hiding from a party.

I'm hiding from my brother-in-law's biarthday party.

I'm hiding because I'm a horrible persona nd ono one likes me and everything is wroing and who cares who cares who cares.

Bugger an I miserable bugger.
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In Fact, Send Two Copies To My Lawyer, And A Copy To File. [Nov. 13th, 2009|12:28 pm]
[mood |quizical]

You know how, at the end of Take A Letter, Maria, the guy sings

I never really noticed
How sweet you are to me;
It just so happens I’m free tonight;
Would you like to have dinner with me?


to his secretary? I’ve long wondered – is this supposed to be a hopeful note, suggesting that he’s already “starting a new life” – or is this supposed to sound just as skeevy as it does now? I actually can’t remember enough about gender relations and gender politics from forty-something years ago to be sure.

(I have a less ambiguous incident. The sodden drunk who ran one of the companies I used to work for once dictated a two-page memo to his secretary – about how incompetent the secretary was. She typed it, distributed it, got her bag, and walked out.)
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Some Are Born To Sweet Delight; Some Are Born To The Endless Night [Nov. 12th, 2009|05:50 pm]
Recently, when I accomplish something on my own responsibility – such as parallel parking, always a challenge – I announce this with the cheerful declaration, “I went peepee in the potty!” It is possible that I need another term; nonetheless, I have certainly refrained from wetting myself.

Today, my accomplishment was a significant walk. Significant, at least, for me – I used to cover several miles without difficulty, but lately I’ve become deconditioned. I went all around Savin Hill (the hill, not the entire neighborhood) and a chunk of Morrissey Boulevard, passing in front of the Globe building and quite a number of interesting and eccentric Victorian houses. There is a nice side of Savin Hill (the neighborhood, not the hill), and a less nice side. I do not live in the nicer part. They are separated by the Southeast Expressway, so there’s little doubt which side you’re on at any moment.

Of course, I forgot my pedometer, but it’s got to be better than a mile, which is something. I did stop at McKennas for a hot dog and coffee, but a man needs sustenance.

I did make a discovery. I can’t really walk while carrying my Man Bag; after a while it throws my back out. Today I put on a light jacket and put everything I needed in its pockets. (Phone, sunglasses, camera, glucose tablets, insulin pen with heads, something to read…) I had to stop now and then to catch my breath, but I remained pain-free.

The point is, I saw my doctor the other day, and she asked if I was using this period of enforced idleness to at least increase my exercise. Sadly, I have not the faintest reason in the world not to, and I’ve been meaning to walk more…

Guess I have a new habit to form.
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Priority Paralysis! [Nov. 9th, 2009|07:02 pm]
I did a whole raft of housekeeper-ish chores in the morning; took out the trash we’d generated last night going through boxes from the attic, made a trash run, cleaned the refrigerator, prepped some veggies, did a recycling run, did a trash run, washed the dishes, finished my ironing. I went for a walk, with a stop at Bugger King. I finished my walk. I finished my book. (Juggler Of Worlds; more about which later).

Then I ran into a decision.

There are a whole raft of projects of secondary importance that are in various stages of completion. I have ten years of photographs to label, archive the negatives, run the rejects through the shredder (so I can’t have second thoughts), and to post in albums. I have boxes and boxes of papers that need to be gone through and either disposed of or archived. (I dipped into one last night and found my grandfather’s junior high diploma). I have piles of CDs that need to be examined, labeled, and stored or trashed. I have a whole pile of art that still needs to have a home. I have boxes and albums of old family photos that need to be scanned and labeled. I have…

As usual, my brain seized up. I watched Johnny Test, and The Future Is Wild, and found that Danny Phantom wasn’t on, and took a bit of a nap.

It’s not, you know, totally useless.
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Null Set [Nov. 8th, 2009|11:24 pm]
If I had anything to say, I'd post. But I don't seem to have anything to say.

Well, I tried stir-frying broccoli in just a spritz of spray oil, and that worked pretty well. And I had a pork chop.

So I had very little to say.
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Our Vegetable Love Should Grow, Vaster Than Empires, And More Slow [Nov. 7th, 2009|06:31 pm]
I went to Wilson Farms the other day to stock up. All they’re harvesting, now, is carrots and broccoli (so far as I could tell), but I like carrots and broccoli. I also got snap peas and green beans and the tiniest Brussels sprouts; they’re no bigger than marbles, or a cat’s intellect.

I spent some time looking at kohlrabi.

My mother used to make kohlrabi, but that was fifty years ago, and I frankly don’t remember how to use it. I did a little research, but didn’t find anything really useful. At some point, I’ll buy some and experiment.

Hell, I’m still determined to master kale.

Anyone got something clever to do with kohlrabi??
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Again The Shadow Of The Wing Of Death [Nov. 6th, 2009|07:39 pm]
Mrs. Professor had a blowout on the Mass Pike this morning, coming out of the Allston toll plaza. She did not die. This is a good thing.

She pulled into the breakdown lane – with difficulty, since no one would let her pull over. She called Triple A, which called the Staties, who sent a truck, which changed her tire for her and put on the donut. (She was disinclined to stand in the travel lane to do it herself. And we don’t have a jack in any case.)

Shaken, after consultation with me, she came home instead of trying to continue to work. I patted her and made her tea and settled her in her comfy chair under a quilt. I took the car off and got a new tire, and got the car aligned while I was there. It needed it. (They thought she might have run over something; it looked like an impact break to the guy at the tire place.)

This is another bad thing about my not working with her any more – she has to deal with disasters by herself. Not that she’s not competent and capable and adult, but it’s much nicer if you have company and support when it all goes in the crapper.

She’s not hurt and that’s important. I’ll have the heebie-jeebies tomorrow.
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Citation [Nov. 3rd, 2009|02:29 pm]
I should mention that the piece I quoted the other day is Dirge Without Music, by Edna St. Vincent Millay. It's always been one of my favorites, party animal that I am, and that I am not resigned.

http://www.cscs.umich.edu/~crshalizi/Poetry/Millay/Dirge_without_Music.html

If you feel more like being resigned, here you go as well.

And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead,
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead
Than the first leaf that fall, --- this wonder fled.
Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost.

Nor shall my love avail you in your hour.
In spite of all my love, you will arise
Upon that day and wander down the air
Obscurely as the unattended flower,
It mattering not how beautiful you were,
Or how beloved above all else that dies.
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Oil. Black Gold. Texas Tea. [Nov. 3rd, 2009|02:25 pm]
We got an oil delivery yesterday.

“Of course you did”, you think. “You live in Boston, and winter is coming on. You’re going to have to heat your apartment pretty soon now.”

It’s, well, complicated.

It’s complicated by the fact that they landlords want to convert the entire house to gas heat. I have no position on this; so long as the radiators warm up when I require it of them, I’m satisfied. It’s possible that this might save us a bit of money; it’s possible that it won’t. Knowing this, though, we cancelled our account with our old oil company, and told them not to fill our new tank.

The gas company came by and sprayed cabalistic symbols on the roadway in front of the house. In order to pipe in enough gas, they need to lay wider mains; apparently the pipes that supply the stoves and used to supply the gas lights (the stubs of which still show in a couple of places) are insufficient.

The landlady called Mrs. Professor at work a couple days ago. The city is refusing the gas company permission to dig up the roadway. Apparently the macadam is less than five years old, and they’re disinclined to have it ravaged so soon. I actually sort of sympathize; there’s been much arglebargle lately about utility companies not sufficiently repairing the roads they dig up. But, while they wrangle and bicker, no gas heat.

Mrs. P asked the landlady which oil company they used (Brite Fuel), and called them to schedule a delivery of a mere sip, 100 gallons, to tide us over. This would be COD, but they took cheques. The delivery was to be on Monday, so I stayed in the house to wait.

I waited all day. I felt constrained from starting some complicated task (writing, ironing, shelving) lest I be interrupted. I realize, of course, that this doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I assumed that they’d be here any moment. One can, as you know, assume anything one would like; the universe so seldom is on the same belief frame as oneself.

Around 4:30, Mrs. P called and asked how we were proceeding. I reported a lack of process. She suggested, with some asperity, that I call the company and inquire; she had left me a phone number for this very purpose. Chastened, I did that, and was told that there was a perfectly good chance that they might get to me that day. Perhaps.

I called my ever-patient wife back and reported this. She inquired if she ought to call and express her disappointment in our lack of forward progress. I suggested that we wait, just in case the oil truck did arrive – and, wouldn’t you know it, as we were discussing this, the oil truck did arrive.

A terribly nice man hopped out, went downstairs to examine the tank (perhaps to ensure that the fill pipe actually terminated in one – I’ve heard of situations in which it was discovered, far too late, that one didn’t), pumped our hundredweight, accepted payment, and was gone.

I am left wondering how fast a furnace burns fuel oil – how many ergs per gallon, I suppose. That is, how long will 100 gallons last us? We may have a chance to find out; they might succeed in laying the new gas mains and convert us over before the question arises. In the meantime, at least for the nonce, we are shielded against the wint’ry blast. Cozy, it is, and so we shall be.
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So Many – I Had Not Thought Death Had Undone So Many [Nov. 1st, 2009|03:50 pm]
We had a Day Of The Dead service at church yesterday. People were invited to display a picture or memento of a dead person, perhaps say a sentence about them, and light a candle. Janet, intelligently, did not go. She’s under orders to not breath in the pain of the world. I was unsure about going myself. With the Wellbutrin, I have affect back, and about the fifteenth or twentieth dead person I began to leak myself

I especially enjoyed the dead children, cut down by disease to leave their parents behind..

Well, in this concept, I leave you with a dirge without music,

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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Hope I Die Before I Get – Oops [Oct. 30th, 2009|06:49 pm]
It’s Grace Slick’s 70th birthday today.

This is like the dull thud of the tomb door closing behind you.

At least it is if you’re a Boomer. (Old People will say “Grace who?”, and you Young People will say “Grace who??”.) If you’re a Young Person – imagine looking at the This Day In History column (just pretend you’ll have chosen to have it downloaded into your cranial implant along with the Belter mining price indexes and the Martian League scores) (and just ignore the whole problem that you people won’t get old the way we have, and the Death Of History in your shorter and shorter attention span culture, and pretend that I’d be able to recognize anything once you get to my age) and reading that Brittany Speer is 70. That sort of shock.
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We Shall Hang Out Our Washing On The Siegfried Line [Oct. 28th, 2009|12:38 pm]
Laundry day yesterday. We still don’t have a washer, and we’ve learned not to go to a Laundromat on the weekend.

If I need the car, I just go into work with Mrs. P and drive back. Many mornings I’ll go somewhere and have a bite of breakfast and a cuppa, waiting for the traffic to calm down. Yesterday I wanted to get an early start, so I just headed back, but the Pike was pretty clogged, so I stopped in Auburndale and went to a place I’ve been meaning to try for four years anyway.

It’s a lunch counter called The Knotty Pine. To my lack of astonishment, it’s paneled in knotty pine, a robust beadboard siding that was popular in the thirties (and, I think, in the fifties.) It was doing a brisk business with the locals, and I was brought two scrambled, bacon, wheat toast, and home fries with dispatch. The taters were good; more pan fries, with nearly ground potatoes grilled, and a just a bit of spiciness.

As I ate I reflected on the last Knotty Pine I used to hang out in. Saturdays, when I lived in Dighton in the early 60s, my father would take me up to the local roadhouse for the afternoon. He’d have a couple beer-and-a-bumps, I’d have cola and whatever salty snack they were serving. I remember watching the Budweiser sign with its moving lights with interest, and wishing I knew how to play pool – not that I could probably have come up to the bumpers yet.

(When we moved to Quincy, we shifted to a bar somewhere in Jamaica Plain, near the factory where my father was the purchasing agent. I’d drink cola and eat pistachios from the nickel machine on the counter and argue politics with the barflies.) (It wasn’t until I got married and my wife asked “You were eight years old and you spent Saturdays in a bar?” that it occurred to me to wonder about this.)

No point, I guess – just the comfort of regular hangouts and familiar places. Perhaps I ought to go back to the original Knotty Pine and have a Bud in my father’s memory. Not that I drink Bud if I can possibly find a way around it, but this is ritual, not libation, and I bet the same sign is there for me to toast as well. It was that sort of a place.
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Jean-Phillipe, Crush Me To Your Great Waxed Chest! [Oct. 26th, 2009|11:17 am]
Here’s an unexpected consequence.

It’s difficult, in this illiterate age, not to end up going to chain bookstores. I’m somehow on the mailing lists of the three big ones, and they keep sending me release announcements and limited-time coupons and suggestions for further reading.

I have no idea what triggered their algorithm – I most certainly haven’t bought any – but I just got a newsletter from Borders breathlessly telling me about my chief interest, romance novels.

I’m half tempted to call them and deny, but all that would get me was soothing “agreements” and knowing looks between the customer service drones.
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