Hello all!
I've moved. Well, on the web at least. Keep up by visiting http://thirtylbpaper.wordpress.com. See you there.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
A Dress In Sync
Do you ever walk out of the house first thing in the morning and the minute your feet hit the cobblestones or the driveway or the front stoop you know with all certainty you've put on the wrong outfit for the day? I'm not talking so much about pairing the low-wasited black pencil skirt with the pink sweater that's a bit too short in the torso, thereby making it necessary to self-consciously tug at your cashmere waistline all day long to prevent gaps. It's not even a question of slapping on long sleeves when short are mandated by the springtime blossoming outside or picking up the wrongly weighted jacket from the pegs by the door. It has to do with the fundamental spirit of the day; why am I wearing worn-out raspberry courderoywhen the secret undercurrents of morning -- those unseen vibes we feel as we push back the covers and listen with mild interest to the sonorous tones of Steve Inskeep on the radio -- demand something other than what we've chosen? Wearing these jeans was a mistake, I think. Feeling wrongly about one's wardrobe as one begins the day is always unsettling.
I wish my clothes could perform double duty and function as both a sensibly styled wardrobe and Something Else. This Something Else could morph as myneeds required. Today it would be Something to Rid My Head of Allergies. We have special suits to protect firefighters from flame (most of the time); astronauts wear special suits to enable function in space (most of thetime). The jumpsuit must have its merits, as mechanics and military pilots and rednecks alike wear them with abandon in the course of their professional duties (most of the time). I've taken a pill; too bad my wardrobe can't take functionality to a new level and balance what nature and chemicals cannot.
I wish my clothes could perform double duty and function as both a sensibly styled wardrobe and Something Else. This Something Else could morph as myneeds required. Today it would be Something to Rid My Head of Allergies. We have special suits to protect firefighters from flame (most of the time); astronauts wear special suits to enable function in space (most of thetime). The jumpsuit must have its merits, as mechanics and military pilots and rednecks alike wear them with abandon in the course of their professional duties (most of the time). I've taken a pill; too bad my wardrobe can't take functionality to a new level and balance what nature and chemicals cannot.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Well, Whad'Ya Know!
The restrooms at the Fort Smith Regional Airport have automatic faucets!
That's just one of the many tidbits that fell excitedly from the lips of Fort Smith's mayor as he guested on "Whad'Ya Know?".
Listeners also learned about the mayor's salary ($10,000) and his wild laugh and his ability to memorize numerous random facts about Fort Smith and his ability to work them into a radio interview.
Well, he tried. He ran into Michael Feldman.
It's radio host Michael Feldman's penchant for interrupting his guests that makes him so obnoxious. Michael Feldman's brand of entertainment rests on a precarious perch between subtle rudeness and sly comment, and I do not appreciate it. I find it annoying. He uses what the other person is saying as a launching pad for yet another joke -- in the middle of the other person's turn to speak. The conversation -- loosely here, folks -- is just a patchwork of half-finished incoherent thought from the guest that ends up being a thin veneer of a backdrop to Michael Feldman's solo standup performance. I have no doubt that should a guest suddenly be overcome with the inability to speak -- from natural causes, not Michael Feldman's imposition -- that Michael Feldman would soldier on in soliloquy for hours on end.
The Fort Smith mayor's penchant for laughing at almost every joke Michael Feldman made -- many at the expense of Fort Smith or the mayor (my favorite: "Fort Smith: bigger than North Little Rock!") -- disintegrated the mayor's interview into a conversation almost painful to listen to in its slow pace and inability to complete a thought. So basically it went something like this: Michael Feldman asks the mayor a question; the mayor starts to answer; Feldman interrupts with a joke; the mayor laughs. Repeat with a new question.
And what a laugh it is. The mayor's voice has that peculiar quality that calls to mind concepts such as randomness, wild improbability and sheer lunacy. It's a laugh that at any moment could come leaping through the radio and attack someone. Its pitch is high and reaches the top measurements of the loud scale. Its the kind of laugh that knows no boundary and shakes off every vocal lasso trying to keep it contained. The mayor himself seemed overtaken by it. It was all he could do to open his mouth and let it escape with abandon.
That's just one of the many tidbits that fell excitedly from the lips of Fort Smith's mayor as he guested on "Whad'Ya Know?".
Listeners also learned about the mayor's salary ($10,000) and his wild laugh and his ability to memorize numerous random facts about Fort Smith and his ability to work them into a radio interview.
Well, he tried. He ran into Michael Feldman.
It's radio host Michael Feldman's penchant for interrupting his guests that makes him so obnoxious. Michael Feldman's brand of entertainment rests on a precarious perch between subtle rudeness and sly comment, and I do not appreciate it. I find it annoying. He uses what the other person is saying as a launching pad for yet another joke -- in the middle of the other person's turn to speak. The conversation -- loosely here, folks -- is just a patchwork of half-finished incoherent thought from the guest that ends up being a thin veneer of a backdrop to Michael Feldman's solo standup performance. I have no doubt that should a guest suddenly be overcome with the inability to speak -- from natural causes, not Michael Feldman's imposition -- that Michael Feldman would soldier on in soliloquy for hours on end.
The Fort Smith mayor's penchant for laughing at almost every joke Michael Feldman made -- many at the expense of Fort Smith or the mayor (my favorite: "Fort Smith: bigger than North Little Rock!") -- disintegrated the mayor's interview into a conversation almost painful to listen to in its slow pace and inability to complete a thought. So basically it went something like this: Michael Feldman asks the mayor a question; the mayor starts to answer; Feldman interrupts with a joke; the mayor laughs. Repeat with a new question.
And what a laugh it is. The mayor's voice has that peculiar quality that calls to mind concepts such as randomness, wild improbability and sheer lunacy. It's a laugh that at any moment could come leaping through the radio and attack someone. Its pitch is high and reaches the top measurements of the loud scale. Its the kind of laugh that knows no boundary and shakes off every vocal lasso trying to keep it contained. The mayor himself seemed overtaken by it. It was all he could do to open his mouth and let it escape with abandon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
