far too much writing, far too many photos

runswithscissors


Thursday, August 15, 2002

An addendum to yesterday's entry:

Lately, for some reason, I've been talking to various folks about the house and the strange happenings, in part just from the sheer amazement at finding that kind of entertainment taking place in my living space. So it's been in my thoughts.

Yesterday afternoon I'm on the phone with a friend. I'd told them some about what's been happening in the house - if nothing else, it's a real conversation piece - and I hear, very suddenly, a noise from downstairs. Sharp and distinct. Loud. Louder than most of the odd noises I hear around this place. Far as I knew, I was alone here, so I immediately headed downstairs to see what was up, telling my friend about it as I went. (God bless cordless phones.) I open the door to the laundry room, I see movement, I could feel my heart rate increase. Someone I don't know is in there. A guy. He turns around, I remember I had a 2 o'clock appointment for the annual furnace maintenance, I see his tool kit, my heart slows down. I'd left the garage door open, when he pulled up the driveway by the garage he walked in and knocked on the inside entryway, which opens into the furnace room. Getting no answer (me being upstairs on the phone), he tried the door, found it open, stepped inside, saw the furnace, started setting up.

Comedy: it's everywhere.

We get to talking, me and the furnace guy. Turns out he was born in this town, has lived in the area his whole life, knew the folks who built this house. Which means he knew the woman who took the header down the stairs and joined the choir invisible. He couldn't remember their last name, I didn't press him. I've learned enough.

************************************

I recently came across some notes made in my last day or two in Madrid and during the trip back.

For instance: at the airport in Madrid the plane was parked way the hell away from the terminal, they loaded us into buses to take us to is. A long, circuitous route, through a tremendous amount of airport traffic - trucks, buses, miscellaneous funny-looking service vehicles, carts pulling trailers. I stared out the rear window, checking out the scenery. And noticed that several vehicles had been trailing our bus through all the twists and turns it took. The small truck immediately behind us had a teletubby hanging from the rear-view mirror. The purple teletubby. Hanging by its neck.

Madrid's been in my thoughts these last few days. I'm aware I never finished the final entry I wrote from there [see entry of 3 August] - I intend to pull myself together and dig into that. I'm also going to write up whatever I can decipher of these notes I found. Which means it'll all be showing up here sooner or later.

Be warned.

rws 10:25 PM [+]

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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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