Metamorphosism | We of course all understand it, being intellectuals.

Time 2020-12-31 23:07:11

Web Name: Metamorphosism | We of course all understand it, being intellectuals.

WebSite: http://www.metamorphosism.com

ID:152442

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of,course,Metamorphosism,

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Christmas, day 1 minus 2 So tomorrow being 24 December, which is when we open presents here (stockings on 25 12) we all went in to quarantine 10 days ago so the kids could safely come over for the holidays and I was the lucky one who got to drive to their place and pick them up and drill 2 holes into Gamma s concrete wall so she could hang a thing on her wall and drive them out to our place, on the way back telling them about my speeding ticket, right about here where the speed limit changes from 130 (kmh) to 100 and I am always a little late slowing down; there s no radar box around here so I assume they were right up on the overpass there, where that police car is now with the radar gun sticking out the window (checks speedometer, which unsurprisingly reads 120 in the 100 zone) oh, man and then more stories about all the other new radar box traps we have been blundering into lately to the point where we are going to apply for a subscription; meanwhile my wife Alpha has apparently drawn the short straw and has to stay home and deal with making corn bread stuffing for the turkey we postponed from our canceled Thanksgiving (alas, the farmer said, he gained no weight between Thanksgiving, when he got his reprieve, and now would you, I thought, seeing your friends slaughtered and knowing it was only a matter of time?) and dealing with the water filter man who was coming to sterilize our water filter after all the you-know-what backed up into the room where it is, and maybe touched it, and maybe contaminated all our drinking water pipes or whatever, as well as the rotorooter men who were coming over to investigate what caused the backup. When I got home with the girls the water filter man was practically already gone (he was fully gone when we got back from getting our covid tests (negative) at the doctor), and the rotorooter men were far, far jollier than you would expect rotorooter men to be. Friendly, happy young men.Apparently someone had been flushing damp wipe cloths? I am translating but that s what they re called here? Feuchttücher? Which we don t flush and rarely use and when we do use them (usually to wipe up cat pee) we certainly don t flush them, we put them in the garbage and if we did flush them we d flush them singly, single solitary cloths one by one so they could travel through the pipes easily rather than clumping and stopping everything else to the point that you get the Christmas fireworks we did. Waterworks. Whatever.Oh and another thing, said the happy rotorooter men, you have a burst pipe too.The boss rotorooter man is going to come over and see if it needs to be fixed, or if it s only a minor burst. Apparently there are burst sewer pipes that are a real big deal, and others you can live with.Is it nice to have the kids over? Just as nice as we expected, and we had high expectations. Presents are wrapped, I ll make some mashed potatoes for tomorrow later today, and mix up some baking powder biscuits (taking into account the fact that Austrian baking powder is weaker than American baking powder, so you need more if you re using an American recipe, and I m using a Betty Crocker recipe) to be baked tomorrow, and getting some sourdough and pre-dough started to sit overnight so I can watch it rise too long and lose heart and start to sag while the turkey monopolizes the oven, then the biscuits maybe I should think about this a little maybe I ll postpone the sourdough a day Happy holidays, anyway, to those who celebrate holidays. A brief Christmas play (Lights come up)(Living room, a woman is decorating a Christmas tree, radio plays Christmas songs. Cat sleeps on sofa)Man (seated at table, repairing ornament): Fuck, I glued the bird to my finger.(Fade to black)(The End) A question of perspective. Mopping raw sewage in his cellar, the wolf regretted ever leaving the forest.From where had it come? Had the sewer line leading out of the house clogged, causing in-house sewage to somehow overflow into the furnace room, or had some external problem caused outside sewage to flow back into the house and overflow?And why did it have to happen on a Saturday night, maximizing the time he would have to wait before a plumber could come?He imagined scenes from plague horror movies where a janitor mops contaminated water and you see a single drop, in slow motion, splash up and get him in the lip, or the eyeball, and then in even more extreme closeup, how the bacteria, or viruses, enter his bloodstream, etc.Everything is a question of perspective, he told himself.Accepting his fate to the extent that he mopped up everything and resolved, once it had dried, to mop the room again with some sort of harsh disinfecting liquid, the wolf nevertheless washed his paws for a long time, then clipped his claws and washed his paws again. And then again.Good thing about a pandemic, thought the wolf, is at least you have lots of disinfectant on hand.Then he poured a glass of whiskey, closed his eyes, and thought of tundra, and forests, and prairie. As I mentioned already on Facebook, we cancelled Thanksgiving due to the pandemic and will instead eat club sandwiches via skype with the children on Saturday. The turkey we had ordered from the organic farmer down the road got a last minute reprieve and, cynical and disillusioned after having said goodbye to life, is presently hitchhiking somewhere with a beach to smoke French cigarettes and write existentialist poetry. Don t worry, we ordered another one for Christmas, assuming the lockdown is over by then, and in preparation will all self-quarantine 10 days before getting together bc you can t be too careful.Anyway the turkey mailed me his first poem this morning, excerpt attached below.GOBBLEII saw the best fowl of my generation destroyed by farmers, gorged hysterical cackle,dragging themselves through the angry yard at dawn looking for a trough of cornangelfeathered hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and gobbling sat up clucking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water barns floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,who bared their brains to Heaven on order before the holidays and saw the poultry angels staggering on barnyard roofs illuminated,who passed through plucking sheds with now dead eyes hallucinating nothing, no more Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of carnivorism,or those like me expelled from the slaughterhouse by some trick of pandemic and quarantine, left to wanderto cower unplucked in rooms in unfamiliar underwear, burning their poetry in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall IIWhat sphinx of cement and metal ax bashed off their heads and ate them up with sauce of cranberry and mashed yams?Thanksgiving! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Turkeys screaming under the stairways! Turkeys gobblesobbing in flocks! Old poet turkeys pardoned and weeping in the parks!Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving! Nightmare of Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving the loveless! Mental Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving the heavy judger of turkeys!Thanksgiving the incomprehensible prison! Thanksgiving the crossbone soulless jailhouse and kitchen of sorrows! Thanksgiving whose heaping platters are judgment! Thanksgiving the vast stone of war! Thanksgiving the stunned governments!Thanksgiving whose mind is pure machinery! Thanksgiving whose blood is running money! Thanksgiving whose fingers are ten armies! Thanksgiving whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Thanksgiving…. The Habits of Five Happy Couples Have you ever caught yourself staring out the window, maybe your office window, watching someone younger than you get into their car up the street, or unloading groceries from their trunk, wishing for a little more peace, happiness, respect, joy, sex, love, agape, laughs, intimacy, happiness and peace in your relationship? Or perhaps, instead of giving mutual support you find yourself stuck (unstuck) inside a negative feedback loop itself unstuck (stuck) within a chronographic experiential time cycle in which you zoom around your life in circles, or figure eights, back and forth and around and around, experiencing the same pathetic, depressing conflicts over and over.If that is the case, and for many of us it is, there is a good chance that you sometimes wonder why your relationships, and life in general, suck so bad while other people s lives and relationships seem so awesome. And, statistically, you have at least three feet of shelf space in your home library devoted to self-help relationship books promising clarity about all the ways relationships fail, but look here s the problem: Smoothly functioning, harmonious relationships are only possible if one or more of the participants settle for less than they need, hold back, suffer in silence, give in all the time, or all of the above, or get even through indulging their bad habits.While popular entertainment, and pretty much everything else about modern capitalist society seems desperate to convince people that people stay in love their whole life long and there s something wrong with you if you feel differently, real relationships are more complicated than that.Take John and Rebecca. John listens to 80s hair bands and plays air guitar. Rebecca farts before leaving elevators if she s riding alone.Or Max and Peter. Max bites his nails, Peter checks whether the front and back doors are locked about ten times every night before going to bed.George can t stop putting empty containers back into the refrigerator, no matter how much Jamie yells at him, while Jamie clips coupons and spends more on gas running to multiple stores to cash in the coupons than the coupons actually save.Mike has a drinking problem and is addicted to internet porn. Martha is attending group therapy as part of a plea bargain following her arrest for shoplifting.Home alone while her husband Donald is a coma following an opiate overdose, Gretchen steals packages delivered to her neighbors houses and stacks them in the spare bedroom and when it is full she drives them out to the desert and sets them on fire. My phone crashed I know not why and I had to do a factory reset and lost all of 2020 and I thought, good riddance. Life Hack/No Life Hack It is November and the weather is dark and depressing. My city just underwent a terrorist attack. Currently, as I write this, Trump is doing better than expected (=cheating is going well) in initial counts. My tooth broke off day before yesterday and I spent yesterday morning at the dentist getting the rest ground off and a temporary crown applied and it was, of course, not in my budget. And, finally (?) we are not only in the middle of a pandemic, still, and our second lockdown (so far) we are quarantined for the second time, waiting for someone to come test us, bc we were exposed to someone who tested positive.You may ask yourself, why is Mig in such a good mood?Well, strictly speaking, not a good mood, but maybe, why isn t Mig in a worse mood?Why isn t Mig depressed?Or, more accurately, why isn t Mig more depressed? 2020 is being 2020 with a vengeance, he can t see his friends in person, etc.Ok you know what, when I started this post that was going to be the joke there is no life hack, right? Things are terrible and I m depressed. Except right now it occurs to me I am not really depressed. I am sad, but that s different. My opinion and I am not a psychologist is that if you have a reason it s sadness, not depression. I am sad bc a young man felt compelled to shoot random strangers. I am sad bc of seasonal grayness. I am sad bc I can t see my friends who *are* depressed and try to cheer them up. I am sad bc I have to figure out how to pay for a crown on my molar (I have the money don t worry). I don t know. My tent wisdom comes to mind when I started this post, it sucked that it was raining when I was in a tent. But before I finished the second paragraph, it was great to have a tent when it was raining.Maybe it s just my brain s last desperate attempt to cheer me up before I plunge into despair, but right now I am thinking about everything, and everyone, I love. My family. My friends. Random people I follow without knowing on social media saying decent, or indecent but funny, or kind, things right now. The city of Vienna. The country of Austria. The person who hollered Schleich di du Oaschloch at the terrorist. The Viennese personality that phrase is so typical of. The Americans who voted against Trump. And so on.I don t know. Maybe it isn t enough. We ll see I guess. Maybe absentee ballots will be so overwhelmingly against Trump something good will come of 2020 after all. Maybe the feeling of unity and kindness in Vienna will last. Maybe my friends and I will cheer up. I am already thankful for a lot of things my breadbox is full of bread, my wife and I are getting along, my small cats like me and the big one doesn t bite me much. My transmission is making a funny noise but I only have to drive to the train station, usually. My children and my wife and I are all safe and healthy, except maybe for coronavirus. I don t know, it s a balancing act.It always is, for someone, I guess right now we re getting a taste of it, in case we didn t realize before.Now excuse me, I have to go into the cellar and write, Gamma is my new writing partner and we re doing Nanowrimo this year. 2000-2013 Mig Living | Powered by WordPress | Pink Touch 2 theme altered by The Branwich Horror for Metamorphosism

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