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The Whiteness of the Whale

Capodoglio albino (White whale), originally uploaded by dmelpi.

A beginning, no less.

I used to be a make-out artist but now I write for friends only.

As the kids say, "comment to be added."
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Momus, originally uploaded by tmcq.


Momus -
"Tamagotchi Press Officer"

[ from the album "Ping Pong" (1997) ]
Lyrics

The Tamagotchi will speak to no-one today
He does not even read your paper anyway
We cannot guarantee he will appear at Cannes
And if he does he'll do no one-to-ones

He is asleep
And when he wakes he will need to be fed
Then he will sing
Then he will go back to bed

No interviews with Mr Tamagotchi today
We are dismayed by your attempts to invade his privacy
Please go away! Please, go away!
Goodbye!

His painting exhibition is at Andrea Rosen
His rock band rocks the Buddokan
And his book 'I, Tamagotchi' is in its third impression this week
But Mr Tamagotchi is asleep

No interviews with Mr Tamagotchi today
We are dismayed by your attempts to invade his privacy
Please go away! Please, go away!
Goodbye!

Please go away!
No interviews today
Good day! (Hoppit!)
Please go away!
No interviews today

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Previous experience includes: Outbox; To File; and RUSH. Team-player with positive attitude and strong communication skills. Missing one (of four) feet but this does not effect workflow in any way. Affable demeanor. Willing to travel.

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It's a mouse!, originally uploaded by nmarshall42.

A mouse (at least one) has moved in with me.

He is small and white. His interests include but are not limited to: my Coco Dyno-Bites; my rice; my potatoes; my phonebook; and my tea. Beyond some shared favorite foods we are also both relatively quiet and easily startled. As far as apartment-mates go I could probably do worse and the company is nice I guess; however, what I can’t take is piles of poop all over my counter.

Because of this I have opted for eviction. I purchased two of the humane “Mice Cube” traps. Thus far, they have not worked and I fear I may have to take more drastic measures. I really don’t want to poison him – please believe me when I say I don’t. But … it’s excrement, for Pete’s sake. I suppose I could leave the poison traps right next to the “Mice Cubes” so that I can believe he had a choice right up until the end…

Plotting to poison a small, white-haired recent addition to my household is so … V.C. Andrews or something.

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Me and my TRS-80, originally uploaded by Stef Noble.

My computer is so slow that watching video is more like ... watching a PowerPoint presentation...

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The Designer / Cheers !!!, originally uploaded by *Gary*.

As I mentioned, I am currently in Hot’lanta on business. Today I took a cab to work because I misjudged and ended up in a hotel that isn’t within walking distance from my office. It happens.

Anyway, along the drive to my job, my foreign cab driver pointed out a bunch of buildings in the downtown area that were owned by a “Gary Cody”. He said Gary Cody had moved here from New York was buying up condos left and right. Gary Cody could easily lay down $300,000 for a luxury living space. Why? Because:

“Gary Cody lives for himself! He has no children!”

Fair enough, I suppose – at least he is honest about it.

Like this Gary Cody, the residents of the town that I live in are super rich. (I, however, am not super rich – I kind of scrape by, I guess.) The town is small and we all gossip – I know what the super rich are up to and for lack of any remaining worthwhile real estate to haggle over, the super rich are probably bored enough to know what I am up to. I am not exaggerating when I say that most of my town is actually owned by one of three entities:

1) The organization that I work for.
2) A single local realtor.
3) Someone named “Chu”.

Based on my experiences in Slow-ville, it wasn’t unbelievable to me that this “Gary Cody” could sweep into Hot’lanta, buy up blocks willy-nilly and have cabbies gossiping about it. I thought nothing of it as my cabbie spun his fabulous yarn of Gary’s life of privilege – it was exciting, even. For serious, who doesn’t like some early morning Yankee expatriate dish!?

I suppose I should mention:

At about the end of our time together, I realized that my foreign cabbie wasn’t saying “Gary Cody”, he was, in fact, saying “the gay community”.

And maybe that made the stories even better.

Goodness.

Regards,

Ishmael

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Baltimore Inner Harbor, originally uploaded by Pat in NJ.

Well, in case you haven't heard--I am on a three-day portfolio counseling mission in Baltimore. (Or as the locals say "Bal'more".) To amuse myself on the plane I was trying to think of a scandalous slang term for Baltimore (I have no idea why.) and the only thing I could come up with was: Booty-Mo’. That is pretty “hot” though.

Tomorrow, I will be doing school visits but I have the morning free and I intend to get over to the Entertainment Museum. Last time I was in Booty-Mo’, I went to the Aquarium. I intended go there again until I discovered the other place and I am thinking I should do something new—and I do love trash culture. While here, I continue to scour the web for a winter apartment for my Mom who suddenly is not interested in traveling to Florida.

Since my arrival at the hotel, not a single person who said they would call me has. Not my practically homeless mom, not my friends, not even my colleague. I have no choice but to assume that my phone does not work in my hotel room. I guess I will sporadically go stand on the corner and wait for the phone to perk up.

It is warmer here than I imagined.

Regards,

Ishmael

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busto di Catullus, originally uploaded by * Helenchan's photos *.

If Catullus were alive today he would have to be a blogger and might very well own one of those t-shirts that say "I'm totally blogging this!"

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Orange Pingpong, originally uploaded by jhaehsonne.

Every pet book you will ever read tells you not to do it.

"They" say not to fall for the small, sickly pets. Buy robust pets -- nature will take care of the stragglers, not you. And that all sounds really good on paper.

Knowing is half the battle.

The rational me knows that goldfish probably don't get lonely. I was likely projecting my own feelings into him, but I swear my fish looked...lonely. He would just wobbly-swim about his big 28-gallon world seemingly looking for everyone he knew at the pet store. So off I goes -- back to the petstore in search of a friend for my Lionhead goldfish, Tully. (Catullus)

This is how I met Livestrong(tm).

He is a Pearlscale golfish about the same size as Tully. When I first saw him in in his tank I thought, "Man, that is a fast fish -- look at him go!" As I got closer I noticed that not only was he swimming fast but really erratically as well. In fact, he was bouncing off the walls and tank decorations. Not good.

On further inspection, I discovered the problem -- he kinda...had no fins. I was told a cruel algae eater had slowly nibbled them off one evening after the pet store had closed. Think about that for a minute. The poor guy was in the dark all night while a hostile neighbor slowly ate off his appendages. That is about the worst thing I can imagine right now.

I watched him for a while and saw that he was beating his little nubs as hard as he could trying to right himself. The water flow in the tank was just too strong for him though. He went around and around and around. It was really sad and so Livestrong came home with me along with a bottle of something called 'Melafix' which promised to promote the healing of damaged fins.

I suppose there is a fine line between damaged and eaten off but I have hope and I think Livestrong(tm) does too.

He continues to do just fine at home here with Tully and I. The current isn't as strong though he still has to work pretty hard to get where he wants to go. Once I found him lodged into one of the plastic plants and not moving. I thought he had passed but I shook him and he came flying out. After a catching him like this a few times I realized that he was cramming himself into the foliage to give himself a well-deserved rest.

Tully isn't a fast swimmer either but just to be safe I take care to make sure that Livestrong(tm) is getting enough food. I catch him in the net and feed him near the top of the tank. That way I see him eat and it is easier for him get the flakes and pellets. When he seems full, I let him go and feed Tully.

The optimist in me is convenced that his fins are bigger already and that he is getting around better every day. Regardless, he seems to be doing well and, in his way, I think he is appreciative.

So to the writer of every pet care booket ever written:

FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK MY FISH WILL KICK YOUR HONOR STUDENT'S ASS!

Regards,

Ishmael

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Maybe this is somehow inconsiderate on my part. I’ll warn you right now – this may be inconsiderate on my part.

Last week, the film festival came to town. I am generally a pretty busy guy but I love movies and I made time to enjoy as many of the features as I could. I inevitably run into a number of folks I know and don’t see that often. The movie lines are long -- as are the waits -- but it is actually perfectly fine since I pre-buy tickets and run into people and get a chance to catch up. Call it social multitasking I guess.

On Wednesday Night I ran into Mark and was appropriately thrilled. I never see Mark and he is a film student so I was eager to discuss various screenings with him. About a minute and a half into our conversation this old man turns around and starts talking over our conversation and at us. I say at us because he wasn’t saying anything useful and in fact was really only talking to talk. One of the down sides to film fest week is that it brings out all my super rich neighbors in droves. They are basically vapid bags of flesh who enjoy being seen and like to feign an understanding of cultural this and that.

So vapid fleshbag just talks and talks about one inconsequential personal anecdote after another. Mark, who is apparently much more polite and patient than I, listened intently – he may even have asked a question or two. I, on the other, just stood there mildly irritated. I think I may have even turned away and rummaged through my bag once or twice. No stopping fleshbag though.

I mean really, how could Mark and I possibly enjoy the evening’s film without complete knowledge of fleshbag’s recent ski trips?

Regards,

Ishmael

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