Ug

Don't you hate it when someone reads your email over your shoulder? I know it's easy to do but at least pretend you're not reading my email. You don't have to lean forward and put your fat head in my direct line of sight. That's all I'm saying. Be oblique. Employ a little subterfuge. Look up the word 'tact' in the dictionary.

Speaking of tact

When I was in high school I worked for a ski resort in Northern Michigan. Some of you know that. I worked as a houseman in the housekeeping department. This meant I delivered clean laundry to the maids and brought the dirty laundry to the laundry room.

The maintenance department was in the basement right next to the housekeeping office. I worked a lot of nights at the resort (this is why I never did my homework, Mom. I can't believe you and Dad never figured that out) and there was always a maintenance guy on duty also.

The only one I remember is a guy that was probably in his early 20's who had just graduated from college with an electronics degree (so he said). I'll call him Bob since I forgot his name years ago. We got along well and he had gone to the same high school as my step-brother and he would tell me stories about him. I was initially surprised to learn that my step-brother was considered a half-retarded burn out. I always remembered him as being older and more worldly than me. He did get into pot early.

One of the dangers of working in Northern Michigan is that you can get snowed it at work and end up trying to find a place to crash. Not a problem for us that worked at a resort that never had to turn people away. One night it started snowing pretty heavily and Bob had been brought to work by his girlfriend, I believe. She was able to leave early and get back to Traverse City, where they lived together, which was about 25 miles away. Bob had to stay and work his shift. Instead of spending the night like a sensible person Bob decided he had to go home that night. I think he was afraid that if he didn't get home that night he might have to spend the next night at the resort also. He decided to take a cab.

Since this is years before ATM's Bob had no cash for a cab. He axed me if I had any money and I had a twenty dollar bill in my pocket. He asked to borrow. I stutttered and mumbled, scratched my head and said, "I...don't...know." It wasn't that I didn't trust him but in the mid-eighties twenty bucks was a lot of dough. I had never loaned anyone an amount of money that even approached $20. He convinced me it would be OK and I loaned him the dough. At 11 I drove home and he caught a cab to Traverse City.

The snow let up during the night and life went on as usual the next day. I got to work after school and after clocking in went immediately to the maintenance department and found Bob. He was talking to one of his co-workers. I had been fretting over the $20 all the previous night all that day at school. I butted in and muttered something along the lines of "hey...uh, Bob. You got that twenty bucks?" He gave me a nasty look and said, "I'll be with you in a second."

I slunk away and stood outside the door of the maintenance room. A few minutes later he came out and gave me a twenty dollar bill and said, "Man, Eddie you need to learn some tact." He wasn't rude but he was firm and I did learn a lesson in tact. I still have to remind myself of his lesson occasionally when I get impatient. Especially at work.

Crisp

Did you notice this morning that the air was crisp? You know, crisp. The kind of air that kinda stings when you take your first breath outdoors and you don't have to waffle about whether or not to take your jacket to work. The kind of weather that turns a young man's fancy to love. Wait, that would be daylight and darkness. Nevermind on that.

It is the kind of weather that reminds me that I haven't found my gloves I probably lost late last winter. Damn those bastards at Southpark Mall for running off Sears! I couldn't believe how hard it was to find a decent pair of gloves at that fucking mall last week. I went to three different department stores and left the mall in a huff after each of these over-priced and understocked glossy and perfumed meterosexual stores either didn't have their gloves in yet (what the fuck is up with that?) or had gloves that were higher priced than ties at the Knot Shoppe.

I betcha I could have purchased a nice pair of gloves for less than twenty bucks at Sears in about ten minutes. Who knew how important Sears was to my life? I didn't.

New Bowie

I've been listening to David Bowie since 8th grade. Let's call it the mid eighties. The first album I ever owned by Bowie was called "ChangesOneBowie." It was on cassette and I remember that the song "John, I'm only dancing" confused me like nothing else had before.

I ordered the new Bowie album called 'Reality' from my favorite website for CD purchasing, Cheap CD's. I got it a few days ago and I've played it once a day since then.

When I initially listened to it on the sound system here at home I wasn't crazy about it. Bowie is like Tom Waits. Each album I buy by Waits or Bowie I initially don't like. My expectations are too high, I imagine.

I'm a headphone guy. I firmly believe you can't fully appreciate a piece of music unless you play it in your headphones. I've been playing new Bowie album while waiting for and riding the bus and on my ten-minute walk from the bus stop to work. And I like it. I like it a lot. It's not a great album. It's almost unfortunate that so much of Bowie's previous work is great because even a really really really really really really really really really really good album like this one pales when compated to "Ziggy Stardust," "Alladin Sane" and "Hunky Dory." Not many recording artists have had runs like that.

If you don't already enjoy Bowie you probably won't like this album because you won't give it the time it deserves to wrap itself around you. But if you dig Bowie, like me, you'll start to love it after a few days.

Michael Chabon

I am currently reading my third book by Michael Chabon (pronounced 'SHAY-bon' in case you were wondering). I am reading "Wonder Boys." Mmmmm...that's good use of language. I am considering using the book in my first book talk this spring. In order to do a proper booktalk I think you have to read as much as you can by and about an author. I found an awesome essay he did comparing writing a novel to creating a golem. You can read it here.

Sunday

Today I worked. The library I work at is open from 1-6 on Sundays. I don't mind working weekends because I enjoy the day off during the week and the three-day weekend you get the following weekend. Have I mentioned that before? Probably a few times. I repeat myself in conversation so why not in my blog?

Three of us work on my weekend shift. It consists of me, William and our boss lady. William was going on vacation for a week on Monday and it was pretty obvious he was ready to start his vacation. It wasn't like he was copping an attitude but he was obviously ready to go home before he left for work today. He was resolved to soldier on until we closed at six.

Since business was pretty slow boss lady let William go home early. He actaully got a little bouncy and beamed like lion cub chewing on a wildebeest leg. He adjusted his time card, wrapped up some final work stuff and got the hell out of Dodge.

There must have been about 30 people standing outside the library waiting for William to leave. We got busy as hell. At one point I was actually doing three things at once. I was helping a mother and a daughter find a biography of a person who died before 1850 that was over 200 pages long, I was signing up people for the internet and I was taking payments for computer printouts.

Boss lady and I handled it well. Neither of us flipped out and the mad rush only lasted about 30 minutes. We even joked about calling William and telling him to get back to work but we decided he probably wasn't answering his phone.

Whenever I get that busy I always think of Tom. There is nothing he enjoys more than the public and their needs.

A note

Dear Giant SUV Driver,

A couple of days ago I was walking to work from my bus stop. As I was crossing an intersection I saw that you were going straight and the sedan behind you was going to turn right. The sedan almost pulled out and hit me because he could not see the intersection because you were piloting a vehicle as big as an adult Indian elephant and were blocking his view. Fuck you, Giant SUV Driver, you are an asshole.

Ed

P.S. This is not a joke. Really, fuck you. I hope you have a rollover crash real soon and all your children and a couple of your neighbor's children are in safety and booster seats that are not installed correctly and they bounce around the interior of your vehicle like popcorn in an air popper.

Leave Michael alone, goddammit!

These people know a worthy cause when they see one

Back to your hole, puny human!

A few minutes ago I tried to make it to the bus stop so I could go to work. The thunderstorm rolling through town drove me back inside. I will attempt to get on the bus again in about three minutes. I am an American, I will prevail.

Always remember and don't ever forget

When you are fucked up you are not cool, funny or witty. You look like an idiot. That is all.

Rock em and sock em

Have I mentioned how good the new album by the Dirtbombs is? The album is called "Dangerous Magical Noise" and it is an achievement. It's the kind of rock and roll that makes you want to jump around the room and pump your fist in the air. Maybe even make that secret devil sign that Dutch was throwing the Tremont Music Hall a few weeks back. True followers of this blog will recall the pictures.

If you got an extra 12 bucks sitting around go to Amazon.com or Cheap-cds.com or even your local record store and buy this stellar rock and roll album. Rock isn't dead it just moved to the Detroit underground.

What was that? You want more pictures of the Dirtbombs?