Archive September 2008

As much wine as I want 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            Help! I’m under attack. Time is taking its toll. The years are cutting into me like shards of broken glass. Having been to Sabaudia and the beach this past weekend, I have seen [for the first time in my life] that I can no longer drink as much wine as I want. You, of course, know the term: beer belly. For me it is better expressed: wine waist. Holy heck, man, that’s all there is to it. Francesca disagrees. She says I’m Skinnybone Jones but suggests I cut down to a glass or two a day. Easily said, easily done, except that for me the more the merrier. I love life and laugh a lot when — on a daily basis — I dive into the deep end. The incredible thing about it is that I eat next to nothing. Nothing! So how? What? Why? From where? Age + Wine (in abundance). continue reading »

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Screaming for more 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            Do you know that Chinese proverb: It is impossible to know the results of your actions? It seems to me that if we knew the future, we could change it and, therefore, it would be impossible to see it, right? For example, if I knew that I was going to crash my car while driving home today, I would either not drive home, or else go a different way and then the future I had seen would not happen and so what was it that I had seen? Meanwhile, everyone else involved in the accident (other drivers, police officers and paramedics) would also have envisioned a future that didn’t occur. continue reading »

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The last thing I expected to fly out of my boxers 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            Earlier today, I retrieved my dried laundry from the rack on our balcony (no driers here), brought it inside, and as I was folding my third pair of boxers, a HUGE horribly filthy moth flew out, flapped against my face, and then dropped to the floor, bouncing off the couch as it fell and leaving a trail of gray moth-gunk on the fabric. I screamed like a little girl and dashed into the bathroom to wipe off my face, and then I grabbed Jimi and locked her in the bedroom so she wouldn’t leave me with shredded moth guts all over the place. Returned to the living room, I thought at first it might be dead but upon closer inspection (not too close, of course) I saw it pulsing and throbbing and the repulsive features of its head and body. Since picking it up with my bare hand and carrying it outside was out of the question, I went into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and a piece of cardboard, and then went back to the living room, covered the monster with the bowl, maneuvered the cardboard underneath, and then took it outside and let it go. Whoa boy, baby. That was the last thing I expected to fly out of my boxers.

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Does evil exist? 0

Dear Bradshaw,

In response to your question, ‘Does evil exist?’ I begin by highlighting the well-known fact that ‘evil’ spelled backward is ‘live’ and therefore to live means to experience evil in reverse. What does that mean you wonder? Simply this: Better a baked potato today than a string of cheese tomorrow. continue reading »

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The world and its ways 0

Dear Bradshaw,

            Tired, bub. Not sure why. I slept sufficiently. But it’s 10am and I’m flat on my back. Jimi too. We’re both tired. Tired of everything, all of it. I’m not even drinking wine right now. It’s the world and its ways. The sun comes up and then goes down, then up, then down, up, down, and on and on ad infinitum. It’s also me and the monotony. I breathe in. I breathe out. In, out, in, out and on and on ad infinitum. Then there’s the thinking, which never stops. I think about this, then that, then that, then this, this, that, that, this and round and round and on and on ad infinitum. I drink water (it seems there’s no end to how much water I can drink) and that continues day after day, everyday, again and again and on and on ad infinitum. Even in my sleep I can’t escape because I dream. Just when I arrive at a blissful state of inner peace and temporary non-being I start dreaming and I’m tired of dreaming. continue reading »

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