From the annals "truth is stranger than fiction" come two stories, related and remembered earlier this morning, for your wonderment and amusement.
For Head Injury; Rinse, and Repeat
At 4am this morning, I drove my good friend David (aka Sable O'dessa) to the airport. He was flying to Tennessee to attend the wedding of his good friend Stan Stanley's sister's wedding. Before we get to the good part of the story a short note must be made about the Stanley family. The Stanley family lives on Stanley road. Stan's real name is not Stan, it's Rodney, which is his grandfather's name. His middle name (which escapes my memory) is his father's name. To avoid possible confusion, they call him Stan. Stan Stanley. On Stanley Road. To add to the fun, his sister's name is Ley. Ley Stanley. Together they are Stan and Ley Stanley. On Stanley Road. Wow...
In any case, while Sable and I were driving to the airport he began to relate a story to me. He does the wigs and make-up for the 5th Avenue Theatre here in Seattle, and as it is The Theater you get some very interesting folks working there as well. Including a woman who sometimes helps with the wigs and make-up, we will call her Debbie to protect her anonymity. Debbie, Sable told, was in a car accident awhile back, in which she suffered a head injury, leaving her comatose in the hospital for some time. When she awoke, and here's the good part, she suddenly possessed the chemical formulas for a line of, wait for it........... shampoo and conditioners. Fully formed. In her head.
After finishing laughing my ass off and nearly driving off the road, Sable continued. Lest you think that only the claim was made that she posses this knowledge and no proof was ever offered, she produces her head injury hair care line and gives it to people. In the words of Sable O'dessa "Her dandruff shampoo is fucking AMAZING, Sean!!!" Seems that our friend Jonathan has tried all dandruff shampoos on the market, both over the counter and prescription, to no avail. Three days with Head Injury Hair Care Dandruff Collision Shampoo and his flakes are gone. Never to return. After hearing that I was speechless, and I still am.
"I See Dead Rock Stars...."
When I was living in Montana, I had a friend named Sarah. She was a fabulous large redheaded woman, who had not had sex in many years (much to her displeasure) and who epitimized the idea of a "gay man trapped in a woman's body". In fact there was, quite amazingly, at least one gay man stuck in her body.....
Seems that, as we were all told one night a number of years ago, when Queen lead singer Freddie Mercury bit the dust in November of 1991, he possesed Sarah's body for about 2-3 weeks. What they did during that time together I have no idea, I was too stunned and tickled at the time to ask. Nor do I have any idea why Freddie chose her, especially since she had never heard any of Queen's songs before that, though I suspect it has something to do with Fat Bottom Girls making the Rockin' World Go Round. But AFTER the possession, she suddenly possessed knowledge of all the lyrics of all the Queen songs. Fully formed. In her head. While certainly not as useful as a kick ass dandruff shampoo and hair care line, this is still useful knowledge to have when faced with, say, a Killer Queen Karaoke Showdown, or when trying to impress a room full of raging homosexuals. We faggots eat that shit up.
So there you go, a little quarter sized dollop of truth for you today, right in the palm of your hand; lather, rinse, and repeat if necessary. Revelation does exist in the modern world it seems, let that fact never be questioned again. Time have changed though, as you can see; fire, brimstone, commandments, and Seven-Headed Beasts are out, Earth turning hair care products and dead homosexual rockers are in. I am profoundly grateful to be living in this far more fabulous later time.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Signaling Myself
A profound revelation, perhaps from God Himself, was bestowed upon humble me this morning on the drive to my piano lesson. I may have wept a little when it dawned on me, though that could have been allergies, I'm not 100% certain...
People do not use their turn signal for other people, they use it for themselves.
Praise be for Enlightenment.
I am obsessive about driving. I enjoy it, for reasons many and sundry, and I dare say I'm fairly good at it. You may think otherwise to look at my car, which has a badly cracked windshield, large dents along one side, and a missing rear view mirror on the driver's side. These are all explained by 1) rock chips from the highway that became huge cracks after a sudden swing in temperature, 2) an old woman backing into the side of my car in a parking lot, 3) a drunk driver side-swiping my parked car one late night, and 4) my budget being insufficient to fix any of these things. None are attributable to my personal driving record, which is immaculate, like The Conception.
I also use my blinker, always. I use it to let that 18 wheeler roaring up behind me that I am merging onto the freeway in my under-powered car and I'd rather he didn't squash me. I use it to inform the rich old lady in her BMW that I am passing her because she is driving 15 miles per hour under the speed limit and we all have better things to do than look at her license plate surround that reads "God is my co-pilot". I employ my blinker to signal the Asian woman on her cell phone two lanes over that I am changing lanes and to please not suddenly absentmindedly swerve into the same lane and further damage my car. I'm a communicator, and I try to communicate with the other people on the road, so that they do not kill me.
But I fear I am alone in this..... As I was cut off this morning by a mini bus who signaled at the same moment as changing lanes, before being wedged in between it and a Pontiac Grand Prix that did the same, I realized that they were not signaling for me; they were signaling for themselves. As they clicked the turn signal lever while simultaneously turning the steering wheel, the thought almost certainly went through their heads "Wheeeeeee!! I'm tuuuurning!!! OOooooooohhh!! Ahhhhhh!!!".
As I watched more people on the road I saw further evidence to this fact. As one truck sat, unmoving, at a light, waiting for oncoming traffic to end, his blinker came on suddenly as he turned left onto a side street, while my right blinker had been on for some time as I tried to get into the other lane to pass him, all the while vexed and confused by his inability to move through the intersection, and infuriated by the people behind me who, instead of viewing my blinker and allowing me to get around, leapt at the opportunity to zip past me, perhaps thinking as they did "Something seems to be wrong with that poor man's tail light, it seems to be... blinking.....".
There were also people that turned or changed lanes without ever putting their blinker on at all. This I imagine is because they didn't see any point in using one. They already KNOW they're going to turn, why would they have to take the time to REMIND themselves that they're turning by flicking some cumbersome lever so many long inches from their outstretched hands? Such redundancy is a waste of valuable time, like having three rear view mirrors, and passenger side air bags.
My roommate calls it the "Seattle Signal", the turn and simultaneous signal. He was describing the two near misses he had last weekend from exactly that phenomenon, in which both times his signal was on well ahead of time and the other person's was not. They certainly knew they were about to turn directly in front of him, they'd known for ages now, so why on earth did he not realize their plans?? "Some people are so self-absorbed..." they may have thought as they gleefully spun the wheel.
Perhaps we do need reminders to ourselves of our own plans. I must admit to using post-it notes like they're going out of style. Perhaps I can employ them in my driving as well, to remind me that I'm going to stop soon, or that I am out of gas, or that I am turning into oncoming traffic. I may have something with those first two, but thankfully I don't need to waste my little sheets of yellow sticky paper for the last one; I have a convenient lever placed brilliantly within my reach to act as my reminder. Using this I can save my precious post-its to instead stick to my steering wheel as I turn and scrawl out "Wheeeeeeeeee!!".
People do not use their turn signal for other people, they use it for themselves.
Praise be for Enlightenment.
I am obsessive about driving. I enjoy it, for reasons many and sundry, and I dare say I'm fairly good at it. You may think otherwise to look at my car, which has a badly cracked windshield, large dents along one side, and a missing rear view mirror on the driver's side. These are all explained by 1) rock chips from the highway that became huge cracks after a sudden swing in temperature, 2) an old woman backing into the side of my car in a parking lot, 3) a drunk driver side-swiping my parked car one late night, and 4) my budget being insufficient to fix any of these things. None are attributable to my personal driving record, which is immaculate, like The Conception.
I also use my blinker, always. I use it to let that 18 wheeler roaring up behind me that I am merging onto the freeway in my under-powered car and I'd rather he didn't squash me. I use it to inform the rich old lady in her BMW that I am passing her because she is driving 15 miles per hour under the speed limit and we all have better things to do than look at her license plate surround that reads "God is my co-pilot". I employ my blinker to signal the Asian woman on her cell phone two lanes over that I am changing lanes and to please not suddenly absentmindedly swerve into the same lane and further damage my car. I'm a communicator, and I try to communicate with the other people on the road, so that they do not kill me.
But I fear I am alone in this..... As I was cut off this morning by a mini bus who signaled at the same moment as changing lanes, before being wedged in between it and a Pontiac Grand Prix that did the same, I realized that they were not signaling for me; they were signaling for themselves. As they clicked the turn signal lever while simultaneously turning the steering wheel, the thought almost certainly went through their heads "Wheeeeeee!! I'm tuuuurning!!! OOooooooohhh!! Ahhhhhh!!!".
As I watched more people on the road I saw further evidence to this fact. As one truck sat, unmoving, at a light, waiting for oncoming traffic to end, his blinker came on suddenly as he turned left onto a side street, while my right blinker had been on for some time as I tried to get into the other lane to pass him, all the while vexed and confused by his inability to move through the intersection, and infuriated by the people behind me who, instead of viewing my blinker and allowing me to get around, leapt at the opportunity to zip past me, perhaps thinking as they did "Something seems to be wrong with that poor man's tail light, it seems to be... blinking.....".
There were also people that turned or changed lanes without ever putting their blinker on at all. This I imagine is because they didn't see any point in using one. They already KNOW they're going to turn, why would they have to take the time to REMIND themselves that they're turning by flicking some cumbersome lever so many long inches from their outstretched hands? Such redundancy is a waste of valuable time, like having three rear view mirrors, and passenger side air bags.
My roommate calls it the "Seattle Signal", the turn and simultaneous signal. He was describing the two near misses he had last weekend from exactly that phenomenon, in which both times his signal was on well ahead of time and the other person's was not. They certainly knew they were about to turn directly in front of him, they'd known for ages now, so why on earth did he not realize their plans?? "Some people are so self-absorbed..." they may have thought as they gleefully spun the wheel.
Perhaps we do need reminders to ourselves of our own plans. I must admit to using post-it notes like they're going out of style. Perhaps I can employ them in my driving as well, to remind me that I'm going to stop soon, or that I am out of gas, or that I am turning into oncoming traffic. I may have something with those first two, but thankfully I don't need to waste my little sheets of yellow sticky paper for the last one; I have a convenient lever placed brilliantly within my reach to act as my reminder. Using this I can save my precious post-its to instead stick to my steering wheel as I turn and scrawl out "Wheeeeeeeeee!!".
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Deity Release Program
I've just returned from seeing Julia Sweeney present most of her show, "Letting Go of God", here in Seattle. I've had my tickets for about 3 months now, ever since I heard that she and Ira Glass were going to be here to present the show on the radio. My excitement was prompted by having heard this excerpt of the show (type Godless America in to the search bar) some time back. I've listened to it a few times since, and could not buy my tickets to this live version fast enough.
The night began mostly as I expected, there isn't a lot of mystery as to how these things work. You walk through the doors, you hand your ticket over, they tell you were you're seated, you sit down, the show ensues, you go home. But after I had sat down I started looking around at the beautiful theater and the various people. I looked over my left shoulder and sitting in the next section over was my ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend, the one that he left for me (an act I did not request) and who has not acknowledged my existence since, even when we are standing face to face. I shook my head and chuckled a little bit and looked over to my right, and seated in the next section was my ex-boyfriend, who left the other guy for me, and who once put me and that act into the summation of "you're a constant reminder of biggest mistake I ever made." This was while we were still dating and laying in bed having just had sex. But I digress into old news.
The ex was with his new boyfriend, and they were both pointing up at me (or at the other ex, I actually have no idea), and waiving. I waved back, and sunk into my seat, stomach sinking in tandem. I do not talk to my ex anymore, though he tries to contact me from time to time, because I have decided that I don't want to. Partially because I don't see the point in talking to someone who caused me such intense pain, and partially because I worry if confronted with his person I may harm him. I was suddenly very uncomfortable, but very happy to have a good number of rows between us all, and the darkness of the theater to hide in as the show began.
The show was profound. I knew it would be good from the part that I had heard, but to have a much longer version presented was truly amazing. From what we were told the show was presented in L.A. to a crowd of about 80-100 people at a time, a small theater. This is a 2,800 seat theater, and I swear Julia was slightly taken aback at first by the size of the response from the audience. Her timing was quickly adjusted to keep her words from being drowned out by the laughter, and I think it says a lot that a show about denying religion and god was filled with laughter.
After the show Ira Glass and Julia Sweeney had a little chat on stage for us all. A Jewish atheist on one side, and a Catholic pseudo agnostic who still sometimes goes to masses on the other, both with opinions, and those opinions being aired on stage. My impression of those opinions can be summed up simply as "this is a topic who's time has come, we need to all talk like this more often," but that is merely what I took away from what I saw. The more visceral fact was that I was sitting between the worst event in my life, an event that continues to cause me problems and will probably continue to for some time, and I was watching an event that, while perhaps "life altering" is much too far, as my life was put on the godless track long ago, "life affirming" is definitely a phrase I would use. Sitting between my past I was staring at the future, staring at something I could believe in while releasing and rejecting that thing that had shaken my beliefs to the core.
At both the intermission and after the show, I avoided the ex's, who were all grouped up together with their respective dates, since they are all friends now. They were looking for me, I even saw one point at me from the balcony over the lobby as I walked up the stairs pretending I didn't know exactly where they were. I have no doubt that they would have hugged and hi-ed me (all except the one to whom I do not exist), the standard "how are you??" would be asked, and I would be expected to respond. After the show, and all the wonderful things said on that stage (things that ironically got me in quite a bit of trouble for saying myself in those bad years) I had no desire to ruin the night by doing something rash. So I left the theater by a side door, and walked out into a godless rain, happy in the knowledge that no "greater force" was prompting me to "turn the other cheek", or "love thy enemy as yourself", but that I could turn my back on that past and look contently into a much nicer future.
The night began mostly as I expected, there isn't a lot of mystery as to how these things work. You walk through the doors, you hand your ticket over, they tell you were you're seated, you sit down, the show ensues, you go home. But after I had sat down I started looking around at the beautiful theater and the various people. I looked over my left shoulder and sitting in the next section over was my ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend, the one that he left for me (an act I did not request) and who has not acknowledged my existence since, even when we are standing face to face. I shook my head and chuckled a little bit and looked over to my right, and seated in the next section was my ex-boyfriend, who left the other guy for me, and who once put me and that act into the summation of "you're a constant reminder of biggest mistake I ever made." This was while we were still dating and laying in bed having just had sex. But I digress into old news.
The ex was with his new boyfriend, and they were both pointing up at me (or at the other ex, I actually have no idea), and waiving. I waved back, and sunk into my seat, stomach sinking in tandem. I do not talk to my ex anymore, though he tries to contact me from time to time, because I have decided that I don't want to. Partially because I don't see the point in talking to someone who caused me such intense pain, and partially because I worry if confronted with his person I may harm him. I was suddenly very uncomfortable, but very happy to have a good number of rows between us all, and the darkness of the theater to hide in as the show began.
The show was profound. I knew it would be good from the part that I had heard, but to have a much longer version presented was truly amazing. From what we were told the show was presented in L.A. to a crowd of about 80-100 people at a time, a small theater. This is a 2,800 seat theater, and I swear Julia was slightly taken aback at first by the size of the response from the audience. Her timing was quickly adjusted to keep her words from being drowned out by the laughter, and I think it says a lot that a show about denying religion and god was filled with laughter.
After the show Ira Glass and Julia Sweeney had a little chat on stage for us all. A Jewish atheist on one side, and a Catholic pseudo agnostic who still sometimes goes to masses on the other, both with opinions, and those opinions being aired on stage. My impression of those opinions can be summed up simply as "this is a topic who's time has come, we need to all talk like this more often," but that is merely what I took away from what I saw. The more visceral fact was that I was sitting between the worst event in my life, an event that continues to cause me problems and will probably continue to for some time, and I was watching an event that, while perhaps "life altering" is much too far, as my life was put on the godless track long ago, "life affirming" is definitely a phrase I would use. Sitting between my past I was staring at the future, staring at something I could believe in while releasing and rejecting that thing that had shaken my beliefs to the core.
At both the intermission and after the show, I avoided the ex's, who were all grouped up together with their respective dates, since they are all friends now. They were looking for me, I even saw one point at me from the balcony over the lobby as I walked up the stairs pretending I didn't know exactly where they were. I have no doubt that they would have hugged and hi-ed me (all except the one to whom I do not exist), the standard "how are you??" would be asked, and I would be expected to respond. After the show, and all the wonderful things said on that stage (things that ironically got me in quite a bit of trouble for saying myself in those bad years) I had no desire to ruin the night by doing something rash. So I left the theater by a side door, and walked out into a godless rain, happy in the knowledge that no "greater force" was prompting me to "turn the other cheek", or "love thy enemy as yourself", but that I could turn my back on that past and look contently into a much nicer future.
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