The Big Green House

Thursday, February 27, 2003

 

...by just your being you

Let's turn off the snark-o-meter for a minute here. I'm actually gonna be semi-serious today, just to kinda try it on & see how it fits. I'll turn the sarcasm tags back on when I'm done.

If I were a better man, the kind of person I'd ideally want to be, I would be somewhere between Fred Rogers and Joe Strummer. From all accounts, both of them stood for what they believed in, putting it into practice in their daily lives. Both worked toward channeling anger and frustration into positive action - one advocated social change through music, the other counseled several generations of children that, while it's OK to feel angry, it's never OK to hurt others. Both believed in the responsibility of the individual, toward themselves and toward the greater community. And both dressed pretty well, too. I don't know exactly what they would have said to one another had they met, but I'd guess that Mr. Rogers would have some fairly interesting questions for Mr. Strummer.

"Although it almost instantly became codified as yet another badge of conformity, punk rock at its inception, and as curated by its most committed advocates, was about untethering the spirit of the individual from the yoke of fitting in, about rejecting whatever preordained role life handed you, and even for one snatched moment of amplified adrenalin-fueled inspiration took the singer, the song and the audience to a better place. Expressed in its purest form, punk was, and remains, an ethos of liberation."
-Keith Cameron

Clampdown
(Strummer/Jones)

What are we gonna do now?
Taking off his turban, they said, is this man a Jew?
'Cause they're working for the clampdown
They put up a poster saying we earn more than you!
When we're working for the clampdown
We will teach our twisted speech
To the young believers
We will train our blue-eyed men
To be young believers

The judge said five to ten-but I say double that again
I'm not working for the clampdown
No man born with a living soul
Can be working for the clampdown
Kick over the wall 'cause government's to fall
How can you refuse it?
Let fury have the hour, anger can be power
D'you know that you can use it?

The voices in your head are calling
Stop wasting your time, there's nothing coming
Only a fool would think someone could save you
The men at the factory are old and cunning
You don't owe nothing, so boy get runnin'
It's the best years of your life they want to steal

You grow up and you calm down
You're working for the clampdown
You start wearing the blue and brown
You're working for the clampdown
So you got someone to boss around
It makes you feel big now
You drift until you brutalize
You made your first kill now

In these days of evil presidentes
Working for the clampdown
But lately one or two has fully paid their due
For working for the clampdown
But ha! Gitalong! Gitalong!

And I've given away no secrets
Who's barmy now?


What Do You Do?
(Fred Rogers)

What do you do with the mad that you feel
When you feel so mad you could bite?
When the whole wide world seems oh, so wrong...
And nothing you do seems very right?

What do you do? Do you punch a bag?
Do you pound some clay or some dough?
Do you round up friends for a game of tag?
Or see how fast you go?

It's great to be able to stop
When you've planned a thing that's wrong,
And be able to do something else instead
And think this song:

I can stop when I want to
Can stop when I wish.
I can stop, stop, stop any time.
And what a good feeling to feel like this
And know that the feeling is really mine.
Know that there's something deep inside
That helps us become what we can.
For a girl can be someday a woman
And a boy can be someday a man.
bmarkey 2/27/2003 08:01:00 PM

 
A sad day in the neighborhood. More later; I'm just waking up & got this news first thing. Not the way I wanted to start my day, believe me.
bmarkey 2/27/2003 10:18:00 AM

Wednesday, February 26, 2003

 
Given the rah-rah boosterism of local news coverage, I�m surprised that the headline isn�t �Seattle recognized as world-class city�.

And hey, as long as we�ve got the Times page open, here�s a note for those of you who may be too young to remember the Reagan administration: I hope you�re financially well-lubed, �cause we're all about to get fucked, and hard. (Vulgar, yes, but it gets the point across.)

bmarkey 2/26/2003 07:41:00 PM

 

Do me right

I have proof that there are still kind people in the world.

Since my friend Melissa had to spend a few days in Chicago recently, she thought she�d check out a few museums while she was in town. I�d asked her to keep an eye out for blues-related stuff, so she decided to go to the Chess recording studio. When she arrived at the building, she found that it was closed. Melissa spoke with the woman at the door for a bit, telling her that she�d come all the way from Seattle, to which the woman replied, �What the hell, I�ll give you a tour.� This nice person spent the next two hours showing my friend around the offices and studio, telling her all sorts of wonderful stories from back in the day. As it turns out, the woman was in fact Shirli Dixon-Nelson, the daughter of Willie Dixon and executive director of Willie Dixon�s Blues Heaven Foundation. So Melissa, who is not really a fan, got a hands-on tour that most blues freaks would give their eyeteeth for. (She was nice enough to bring me back this Willie Dixon tribute CD, which I�ve only had a chance to play at work, very quietly, over the shitty built-in speaker in my computer. So, no review as yet.)

bmarkey 2/26/2003 05:14:00 PM

 
Hey, something's missing around here... oh yeah, I used to have comments! Haloscan seems to have evaporated or gone on vacation or something. Well, shit. Send me an email if you've got something to say. Or a carrier pigeon; that would be cool. Of course, if you're on the east coast or in, say, Tierra del Fuego, that poor little guy's gonna be pretty tired by the time he gets to Seattle. I'll stock up on birdseed, just in case.
bmarkey 2/26/2003 10:10:00 AM

Tuesday, February 25, 2003

 

Sisyphus ain�t got nothin� on me

Have you ever found yourself working on a project - the successful completion of which meant a very great deal to you - where you thought you�d gotten it all worked out nice & neat, just nailed the SOB to the wall, finally, after putting many hours of thought and care and sweat and blood and various other bodily fluids into the damn thing over the course of several weeks, only to find yourself suddenly face to face with a series of unforeseen questions and/or possible hindrances, such that you find yourself almost but not quite back where you started? And it wasn�t enough to make you give up the project, �cause you�re bigger than that, of course, but perhaps you wanted to find a dark, quiet corner somewhere far away from distraction, so you could properly bang your head against the wall?

Bummer, ain�t it?

bmarkey 2/25/2003 08:55:00 PM

Monday, February 24, 2003

 

Is this trip really necessary?

We've been looking for a used car for a little while. We�re really going to need it when we move over to Science Manor, since bus service there is not so great.

I know this. However, having seen several examples of incredibly bad driving over the weekend and then reading this, I find myself wondering if I really want to be behind the wheel again.

bmarkey 2/24/2003 10:26:00 PM

 

It�s a man�s world

Science Girl asked a very good question over the weekend. While I was willing to make a semi-educated guess, perhaps one of you can give us a more definitive answer.

Here�s the scene: Lucy and I went over to Science Manor Saturday morning, to spend the weekend. Which, by the way, was very nice indeed � lovely, if cold, weather, long walks around the nearby neighborhoods (we will be mere minutes away from take-out tamales! Who knew such a thing was available in Seattle?), and time spent with Science Girl her own bad self.

And, of course, time spent molding the seat of my favorite armchair into the shape of my ever-expanding ass while watching the Food Network, the cause of much sloth in our household and the source of SG�s question. I believe it was while we were watching the National Pastry Championship (if not that, something similar � it�s amazing how much of the Food Network�s programming is based on competition of some sort) that SG asked why most professional chefs have, traditionally, been men. Most of the jobs available to women, until recently, have had their basis in homemaking; teaching, nursing, waiting tables, etc. Cooking in the home is customarily considered �women�s work�, yet it�s seems nearly always to be a man in the toque making your entr�e. Why is that?

(I�m paraphrasing wildly, since I�m typing from memory, but I think I�ve got the gist of the question at hand. I�m sure SG will correct me if I�ve blown it.)

My guess was that, since the chef is in charge of the kitchen and everyone else takes orders from him/her (in theory, anyway), back in the day it would have been very difficult to find men who would answer to a woman. Anyone else want to take a shot at it?

bmarkey 2/24/2003 09:08:00 PM

Friday, February 21, 2003

 

�and dream of sheep

I�m working on minimal sleep today, so I make no promises about quality or quantity today. The fact that I am able to find the keyboard by myself and press approximately the right keys (thank you, spell check!) is a major moral victory in my book.

Lucky for you all, I was ever so much crankier earlier today; now, however, I�m somewhere between �punchy� and �comatose�, so you won�t be getting any of the complaint-fest I�d cooked up in preparation for tonight�s post. Instead, I will share with you my absolute favorite Google search term to hit my site. �Big Sexy Americans Aunts�, make way for �things to say to people with big noses�. Maybe it�s just the lack of sleep but this pleases me no end, as does the fact that I ranked #4 as of today.

Why am I so sleepy? Well, because of my job schedule, I don�t get home from work until about 12:30 AM most nights. I wish I were able to just jump right into bed upon getting home, but I�ve never really had that knack. Usually Science Girl and I chat for a bit & then hit the hay, but since she�s been over at Science Manor all this week, I�ve been winding down with a beer or two & some TV (or, as I did last night, my Wallace & Gromit DVD) and toddling off to bed around 2 �2:30 AM.

Sadly, our neighbor is having some work done on his roof which entails much hammering, beginning at 8 AM yesterday and 7:30 today. You can see where this might interrupt the sleep cycle. Mind you, if anyone�s at fault here it�s me. Roofing is a serious business here in the Pacific Northwest, where dampness is a way of life. And if you�re a roofer, you�ve got to get the job done before it starts raining again � and if that means starting early in the morning, so be it. Since I sleep while the rest of the world begins a busy workday, I lose.

bmarkey 2/21/2003 05:12:00 PM

Thursday, February 20, 2003

 

Do you like good music?

See, now this is a good thing. Why Dionne Warwick was getting an R&B lifetime achievement award is beyond me, but the rest of it sounds good.

On a vaguely related note, I finally got my Stax Records T-shirt in the mail yesterday. (Although mine turned out to be powder blue with black printing. Not a color I would have chosen for myself, but still sub-zero cool nonetheless.)

If I were better rested I�d probably write here about the wonderfulness of R&B and soul, but since I�m not, can we take it as given? I promise I�ll bore you with it later.

bmarkey 2/20/2003 08:54:00 PM

Wednesday, February 19, 2003

 

Too many choices

So, which way should I go with this one: �If they combined it with 'Iron Chef' they�d really have something� OR �Sounds interesting, but I hope they don�t do a show featuring bacon�? Frankly, I�m torn.

bmarkey 2/19/2003 05:19:00 PM

Tuesday, February 18, 2003

 

Dizzy in the head and I�m feelin� bad�

Feeling very sluggish and somewhat disoriented tonight; the kind of feeling I would have spent a lot of money to obtain, back in my twenties. This time around it�s not so much fun, even if it is free. (Actually, it wasn�t always fun back then, either. I never could predict which way it was gonna go � lotsa laffs & fun or five hours of asocial catatonia. And now you know why I stopped.)

Why are humans such buzzmongers, anyway? What is it that draws us to do things which we know are bad for us, simply because they feel good for a while? We intentionally make ourselves stupid, voluntarily give up coherent speech and motor skills, vomit all over our date�s prom dress*� and we�re proud of it afterwards. What compels us to boast about our overindulgences? If I had a dime for every conversation I�ve either participated in myself or overheard which began with some variation of �Dude, I got so wasted last night�� well, I�d have a lot of dimes**, that�s for sure.

And before anyone accuses me of riding the high*** horse, I�ve certainly killed my share of brain cells in my time. I�m hoping that only the weaker cells were destroyed � the ones that made me think that six cloves of garlic in a small batch of pesto was a good idea****, for example � but so far it doesn�t look good.

*OK, I never did that last one, but only because my girlfriend and I decided to blow off the prom for Laserium � which of course required getting baked in the parking lot beforehand. If memory serves, which is a fifty-fifty proposition these days, back then we would have said that we �got fried� in the parking lot. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

**At least enough for a case of Heineken Dark, which was the beer of choice amongst us teenage dumb-asses back in the day. We were convinced that the dark version was stronger, and therefore better, than their regular lager. This had no bearing on fact, of course, but that didn�t stop us from believing it.

***Completely unintentional, I assure you.

****It wasn�t. Usually I believe that you can never have too much sex or garlic; I have proven half of that saying to be false, and it ain�t the nooky half.

bmarkey 2/18/2003 10:32:00 PM

Monday, February 17, 2003

 
Hi-

It�s another busy night at work. Just in case I don�t have time to get back & actually write something, I wanted you all to know that mullets on cabdrivers have been outlawed in the city of Spokane.



bmarkey 2/17/2003 06:18:00 PM

Friday, February 14, 2003

 

The etiquette of blowing up things and people

As always, there is a right way and a wrong way to go about it.

If you�re just blowing yourself up, that�s fine. As long as you take the proper precautions � something along the lines of waving a red flag and shouting �I�m gonna blow myself up!� so that those who do not wish to be blown up themselves can get out of your way � it should be permissible, and in some cases (perhaps even most) encouraged.

It�s the blowing up of others that causes problems. Whether you�re flying an airplane into an office building, targeting an industrial complex situated in a residential district with a cruise missile, or parking a car bomb outside a crowded nightclub, it�s generally considered wrong to blow people up. I just can�t stress that strongly enough. (Now if you have their permission to do so, I suppose that would be another thing altogether. I don�t think a verbal agreement would be sufficient, though; you�d need something in writing, from each party involved. Since it�s unlikely that one would be able to track everybody down beforehand, much less get them to sign off on such a proposal, it�s probably best to take it as given that permission is not granted.)

From this, I think it would be fair to extrapolate that shooting, stabbing, gassing, etc., should be treated in the same manner, i.e.: self-inflicted is OK, but don�t do it to others.

Really, it�s not that complicated.


bmarkey 2/14/2003 06:23:00 PM

 

Duty Now for the Future

As a public service I have installed the official Alert Status monitor underneath the links box, so you can tell at a glance the proper amount of government-and-media-induced fear and paranoia you should be experiencing. That and some duct tape should see you through this crisis.

Be strong, Citizen.

(Credit where it is due: Alert monitor can be found here.

bmarkey 2/14/2003 11:05:00 AM

Thursday, February 13, 2003

 

I must not think bad thoughts

The civil wars -- and the uncivilized wars
Conflagrations leap out of every poor furnace
The food cooks poorly and everyone goes hungry
From then on it's dog eat dog, dog eat body, body eat dog
I can't go down there, I can't understand it
I'm a no-good coward, an American too
A North American, that is, and I must not think bad thoughts
I'm guilty of murder of innocent men
Innocent woman and innocent children
Thousands of 'em
My planes, my guns, my money, my soldiers
My blood on my hands -- it's all my fault

I must not think bad thoughts...


�although it�s hard not to, these days.


bmarkey 2/13/2003 08:47:00 PM

Wednesday, February 12, 2003

 

We�ll Meet Again

Just in case things get screwy with the North Koreans, it�s been swell writing for you kids. Say nice things when you speak of me, OK?

bmarkey 2/12/2003 07:10:00 PM

 
In a slightly better frame of mind tonight, but don�t cross me. I�m staring at a huge stack o� stuff which needs to be dealt with real soon. (�Where are we going?� �PLANET TEN!� �When?� �REAL SOON!�) So I may or may not be back later tonight with some actual writing-type things for you to enjoy or scorn as you see fit.
bmarkey 2/12/2003 04:51:00 PM

Tuesday, February 11, 2003

 
I�m tired. Tired of being ignored, tired of being disrespected, tired of helping people only to be shit upon as from a great height. I�m tired of my government doing things in my name that they have no business even contemplating. I�m tired of people thinking that they can do or say anything they want to, with no repercussions. I�m tired of taking responsibility for things not of my own doing, just because no one else will. I�m tired of the bullshit, the lies, the justifications, the holier-than-thou attitudes. Tired of being told what to do, and how to do it. People who can�t see beyond the ends of their own noses � tired of �em. The rudeness, the pointless pettiness � I�m tired of that, too. In short, I�m just pretty fucking tired.

So let�s give everybody 25 lbs. of Semtex so they can all blow each other up in the name of whatever cause they choose. After the last explosion, maybe we�ll finally get some peace & quiet.

In the meantime, I�m gonna go pith myself on a bottle of whiskey.

bmarkey 2/11/2003 08:21:00 PM

Monday, February 10, 2003

 

Movin� on up

2003 is destined to be a year of changes for The Big Green House. I realize that�s kind of like saying that there will be a Wednesday this week, but some changes are more predictable than others.

The biggest transition on the horizon entails our moving out of (the physical manifestation of) The Big Green House. Science Girl�s father, Science Dad, passed away around Thanksgiving of last year. Since SG was the only Science Sibling, she inherited pretty much everything � including the house in which she grew up. It is not green, unless you count the moss on the roof, but it is much bigger. Also, after probate, SG will own it outright, which sorta makes it a no-brainer.

So, SG has been spending a lot of time over there, sorting out the endless details involved in settling the estate and getting things ready for us to move in. Lucy and I joined her there this weekend. Some observations:

1) The neighborhood is much quieter. Not that TBGH is really all that noisy, mind you, but Stately Science Manor sits at the apex of a �T� intersection, if you follow me, and the branch of the T heading off to the right dead-ends two houses down. (Does that make any sense? I wish I could draw a diagram.)
2) Neither SG nor myself have had cable TV in some time now; this place has cable. Cable is, for me, a black hole, sucking me in with the inescapable gravity of such things as, say, a special on the history and development of the trebuchet*, or, gods help me, �Iron Chef�. I realize that I�m several years behind the curve, but watching �Iron Chef� is the most absurdly addicting thing I�ve encountered since I discovered sex.
3) Given enough room to build up speed, Lucy is perhaps the fastest dog I�ve ever seen. Having a second floor to utilize really adds to her momentum. She still needs to perfect her braking system on the linoleum, though.

So we will be bidding The Big Green House a fond farewell sometime in April, possibly May. The online TBGH will continue unchanged, becoming a Big Green House of the mind. (Although I must say that, given a recent Google referral, I�m quite tempted to rename it Big Sexy American Aunts. I think it would really give the joint some class, yaknowwutImsayin?)

*Anyone who truly loves me will buy me that desktop trebuchet, but pronto.

bmarkey 2/10/2003 11:15:00 AM

Friday, February 07, 2003

 

Reasons to be cheerful

Shirley & Lee. Red beans & rice. Duck Soup. Pesto. Dogs. The first two Pretenders albums. (I�m probably alone on that one, but it�s my list.) �Sonic Reducer�. Professor Longhair. Fir trees. Young Frankenstein. Diamond Knot IPA. The smell of fresh-cut alfalfa. (Don�t laugh until you�ve tried it.) BARBECUE! Let It Bleed. Steven Wright. Buster Keaton. Thai food. The winter sun. Cats. (The animals, not the musical.) Telecasters. (I don�t play �em; I just like the way they sound.)

This is a partial list. Feel free to build your own.

bmarkey 2/07/2003 06:10:00 PM

Thursday, February 06, 2003

 

Smile! You�re on the clock

By the sacred bleedin� heart of the holy crucified jayzus, will this feckin� week never end? Seriously, how many Tuesdays did we have this week? Four? Five? I lost count in all the non-excitement. And who the hell thought this �work five days to get two off� idea was a good way to split up the week in the first place? Does that ratio strike anybody else as being � what�s the word� oh yeah, wrong?

Friends, I am in a rut so deep I can no longer see sky above me. The working world is crushing my soul. I know what needs to be done, and am taking baby steps toward it, but I am here to tell you that it cannot come fast enough for me.



bmarkey 2/06/2003 05:13:00 PM

Tuesday, February 04, 2003

 

DDT did a job on me

My employers are remodeling the office across the way from my desk. I don�t know if they�re putting up some kind of funky vinyl wallcovering or it�s just the glue they�re using, but the air I�m going to be breathing all night tonight smells as if every scrap of PVC in the world had been dumped under my desk while I was clocking in. It�s not good. I�m not one of those environmentally sensitive folks, but I�ve been here about three hours now and I can feel a headache coming on. Maybe I can weasel some worker�s comp out of this.

So, it�s a somewhat woozy me at the keyboard this time around. Woozier than usual, anyway. There may be no discernable difference in my output. You be the judge. Here we go:

Jesus. Now it�s Phil Spector in a bad spot. He�s innocent until proven guilty, of course, and I really want to believe that he didn�t do it� but I also wish it were easier to do so.

On a completely unrelated note, Science Girl rented All About Eve over the weekend. How is it that I was in the theater for ten years and never once did some drama queen (of either gender) stick this one in the VCR during a cast party? I�ve heard many a quote from the film before - that was apparently too irresistible � but never had I seen it until now. Not really my cup of tea, but enjoyable in its own way.

And, while I�m flopping all over the place (metaphorically, mind you � I�m not physically doing any thing but sitting here looking diligent), let me just thank the various gods for Tandoori chicken. Yummers. SG has been raving about Cedars for as long as I�ve known her; we finally went Sunday night. Chicken Tikka is my new friend.

Hmm. Either the fumes are dissipating or I�m soon going to pass out. Probably best if I stop here.



bmarkey 2/04/2003 07:26:00 PM

Monday, February 03, 2003

 

I don�t know if he�s even Catholic

Well, I�ve made several attempts at writing about the loss of the Columbia, but they�ve all come out sounding awfully sappy. The pre-pubescent bmarkey was fascinated by the space program & would be very disappointed to find out that my last vacation was not spent on the moon. The so-called �adult� me feels pretty much the same way.

Instead, I will now relate a fragment of a dream I had a couple of years ago, in the hope that you will find it amusing:

I dreamt that Popeye had been made Pope.

(I guess that would make him Pope-eye, wouldn�t it?)

That�s it. I can�t remember any more of the dream, just that the Vicar of Christ was a short, bald, tattooed, pipe-smoking sailor with over-developed forearms and the ability to contort his flexed biceps so that they appeared to be battleships, prone to fits of intense violence brought on by the consumption of canned spinach.

bmarkey 2/03/2003 10:31:00 PM