Trivial Pursuits
Will not protect you from the terrible secret of space.
Sunday the Thirteenth of January, Two Thousand and Eight
"Every night, Karl Rove go to sleep, he have wet dream."
Curiously, the two songs I seem to be addicted to at the moment—Akira the Don's "Dreams" and Max Romeo's classic "Wet Dream"—share a certain thematic similarity. And I've been having vivid dreams again the last couple nights, too. This morning, I woke up with a start, having suddenly realized in a moment of oneirological clarity that obviously Luke Skywalker should have just hidden his lightsaber inside his artificial wrist and flicked it out like a switchblade at the key moment, rather than selling his droids into slavery and relying on a Hail Mary from R2-D2. It's all so obvious now! Man!
I'm always happy when I'm having crazy vivid dreams, despite the fact that they make for less restful sleep, because I strongly suspect they're correlated with bursts of creativity—and, indeed, have inspired new projects on multiple occasions. In fact, one dream I had last night gave me an idea for the story I owe Katherine, but of course I've now forgotten it. Well, I'm sure I'll have another.
compulsively posted by Martin Marks at 1:14 in the afternoon // one comment by:
It was even weirder when I thought the political poster featured a girl with a laser pistol.
I'm all in favor of linguistic innovation, as I'm sure you all know—but frankly, some things are just too weird.
scrupulously posted by Martin Marks at 11:51 in the morning // comment? by:
Saturday the Twelfth of January, Two Thousand and Eight
I had such hopes for this weekend.
Hmph. Suddenly I feel all energetic, and all my friends are either sick, out of town, or not picking up the phone. Hell with it, I'm going out anyway. Maybe I'll make some more reliable friends with better immune systems.
unintentionally posted by Martin Marks at 9:52 in the evening // one comment by:
This is the problem with having a kitchen on a slant.
Well, now I have successfully covered my entire kitchen, the interior of my oven, and indeed my sock with raw egg.
painstakingly posted by Martin Marks at 6:39 in the evening // three comments by:
This quiche had better come out good.
Weird! Eddie's Market of Mount Vernon is apparently not associated with Eddie's of Roland Park, a well-known Baltimore institution. I don't know how they get away with that. It's not like I'm the only one confused—even a City Paper writer referred to "other Eddie's locations".
A little bit of digging reveals that there were actually 26 Eddieses at some point, all named after one Eddie Levy, but no longer directly affiliated. (I'm not sure how many have survived—only the Roland Park and Charles Village incarnations have significant web presences, so there could be several little ones like mine.) Now they're all differentiated as "Eddie's of [neighborhood]." (Though, just to keep things interested, there are two Eddieses of Roland Parks, only one of which is actually in Roland Park.) And apparently they all have the right to Mr Levy's name still.
Anyway, my Eddie's is literally around the corner from me, which wins it points over its more distant semihomonymous competitors. It's small, and a bit overpriced, but their produce selection isn't quite as bad as these reviews would indicate; they have a fair selection of locally farmed produce, which may be a newer development. I've definitely seen better, mind you. They also don't have much in the way of cheeses, which was a bit of an annoyance as I'm making a quiche. But it's certainly better than a convenience store, which is my only other option short of driving way the hell up to 24th Street for a dang Safeway or right down to Fells danged Point for a Whole Foods. And don't even get me started on the fact that the nearest Trader Joe's is seven miles away and near nothing of interest. So, in short, hooray for Eddie!
hesitantly posted by Martin Marks at 5:43 in the afternoon // comment? by:
An open letter to frame manufacturers who put stickers on the glass:
Dear frame manufacturers who put stickers on the glass:
I hate you.
Sincerely,
Martin Marks
balefully posted by Martin Marks at 1:56 in the afternoon // one comment by:
Friday the Eleventh of January, Two Thousand and Eight
Rude goys out of jail.
I think I accidentally made a potentially offensive joke yesterday. A Jewish coworker was talking about how he's studying to be a rabbi, and mentioned that his father was one, and his father before him, and his father, and his father. I was trying for a flippant little line along the lines of "but his father was a [random profession]."
Unfortunately, the word my brain jumped to was "banker".
Banker! I was going for, like, tinsmith or alligator farmer or shopping cart attendant or something. That wouldn't have been particularly funny, I realize, but at least it wouldn't have been "banker". Bank robber might have worked, but only barely. The really annoying thing is that now I wonder if my mental lexicon has "Jew" and "banker" stored too close to each other. And yet... I blame society.
enigmatically posted by Martin Marks at 5:56 in the afternoon // eight comments by:
Thursday the Tenth of January, Two Thousand and Eight
Hair today, gone tomorrow.
I was positive that if I searched my blog I'd find a dozen entries that were all variations on "I just got a haircut, and I'm not sure how I feel about it", because that is how I always feel for the first couple of days after a new haircut, but in fact only one came close. Based on my previous blog entries on the subject, in fact, I am forced to conclude that evidently getting a haircut is less traumatic than needing one.
gamely posted by Martin Marks at 6:02 in the evening // five comments by:
Tuesday the Eighth of January, Two Thousand and Eight
"It was a crime at the time, but the laws we changed 'em."
All of a sudden, I seem to have become wildly enamored of The New Pornographers.
soulfully posted by Martin Marks at 10:10 in the evening // three comments by:
I'm in training for the Badass Games.
Yesterday I made rubber; today I make bread. I've never done it all by hand before; I don't think I realized exactly what I was committing to when I first put the Saccharomyces cerevisiae in the lukewarm water, but I'm about halfway through now and so far it doesn't appear I've screwed anything up too badly. Unfortunately, I only have one bread pan and two loaves worth of dough... but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Cooking—baking in particular—seems to be my new hobby. It's tastier than writing, the results are less abstract, and it doesn't tire the brain so mercilessly. More to the point, I've never heard of anyone suffering baker's block. Anyway, chicks dig it. (Right?) It's funny, because the only things I actually have in my fridge, more or less, are bread products. Two loaves of preservative-free bread are absolutely the last things I need right now. But it is relaxing.
tersely posted by Martin Marks at 8:56 in the evening // nine comments by:
Monday the Seventh of January, Two Thousand and Eight
I excreted a latex-bearing sap!
Today I made rubber! How cool is that?
abjectly posted by Martin Marks at 12:40 in the afternoon // comment? by:
|
