This morning, I sat down and wrote a blog entry about fast food in general. It was a very negative piece, biting and satirical. The words were right here, in the space you are staring at now.
And I removed them.
Article IV, Section 6(b), Paragraph 19 of the Jumbled Encephalon Noodle Salad charter clearly states (and I quote):
"Adverse negativity is to be avoided at all times at Jumbled Encephalon Noodle Salad. There is enough negativity in the real world without allowing it to permeate this piece of cyberspace. Jumbled Encephalon Noodle Salad is a place of humor, joy and escape from the bad vibes and ugly boogabooga of reality."
I apologize for any bad vibes I may have inadvertently sent your way. On to more happy writing!
Friday, May 18, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
It Just Distappeared!
I have read horror stories of writers who lost their work - a lightning strike that fries a computer in the backseat of a car, the only copy of a manuscript disappearing in the mail, the scene from Duplex where Ben Stiller's laptop catches fire and gets run over...
I have some sense of empathy for these folks.
No, make that sympathy.
I just lost all my writing from this year.
Back in February, I was serving jury duty. To pass the time (which was considerable, to say the least), I re-read Kurt Vonnegut's Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons (a collection of essays, articles and speeches I first read when I was around 16) and, feeling inspired (and bored), began writing again.
I had a little black spiral-bound hardcover journal that my beautiful wife had bought me. I had intentionally saved it for something special. In it, I furiously scribbled thoughts, ideas, anecdotes, drawings, cows, asides, insights, blindsights, opinions, seeds, observations and what-not miscellaneous cerebral bric-a-brac. I have been working in that little book a lot, and had what I thought were some very funny ideas going.
I hadn't written in it for about a month and, last Friday, decided the time had come to get back into the swing of writing. Off I went to a local coffee shop, where I poured ink onto pen and came up with a manifesto / plan to follow for a summer of creative writing and mental pump priming.
Excitedly, I took my little book and a fistful of pens with me to Little Falls MN over the weekend, intending to write whatever I was inspired to write whilst in the woods.
I last saw my book at Linderbergh State Park. I sat it down - on a bench or a ledge somewhere - and, in my zeal to snap photos of flora and fauna and scurrying varmits, I forgot to pick it up.
It is gone.
All that work - gone.
Gone.
As my young nephews used to say when they were three or four, "It just distappeared!"
How foolish. How absolutely stupid of me.
Poof! Presto. Gone.
My hope is that someone found it and, intending to do the right thing and turn it in at the rangers' station, instead opened it, read the words, checked out the cow, and laughed so hard they decided to keep it.
Maybe they'll shelve it beside their copy of Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons.
Or Breakfast of Champions.
Either way, I would be honored.
So be it.
Tonight, I start again. I hope I'm still funny.
I have some sense of empathy for these folks.
No, make that sympathy.
I just lost all my writing from this year.
Back in February, I was serving jury duty. To pass the time (which was considerable, to say the least), I re-read Kurt Vonnegut's Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons (a collection of essays, articles and speeches I first read when I was around 16) and, feeling inspired (and bored), began writing again.
I had a little black spiral-bound hardcover journal that my beautiful wife had bought me. I had intentionally saved it for something special. In it, I furiously scribbled thoughts, ideas, anecdotes, drawings, cows, asides, insights, blindsights, opinions, seeds, observations and what-not miscellaneous cerebral bric-a-brac. I have been working in that little book a lot, and had what I thought were some very funny ideas going.
I hadn't written in it for about a month and, last Friday, decided the time had come to get back into the swing of writing. Off I went to a local coffee shop, where I poured ink onto pen and came up with a manifesto / plan to follow for a summer of creative writing and mental pump priming.
Excitedly, I took my little book and a fistful of pens with me to Little Falls MN over the weekend, intending to write whatever I was inspired to write whilst in the woods.
I last saw my book at Linderbergh State Park. I sat it down - on a bench or a ledge somewhere - and, in my zeal to snap photos of flora and fauna and scurrying varmits, I forgot to pick it up.
It is gone.
All that work - gone.
Gone.
As my young nephews used to say when they were three or four, "It just distappeared!"
How foolish. How absolutely stupid of me.
Poof! Presto. Gone.
My hope is that someone found it and, intending to do the right thing and turn it in at the rangers' station, instead opened it, read the words, checked out the cow, and laughed so hard they decided to keep it.
Maybe they'll shelve it beside their copy of Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons.
Or Breakfast of Champions.
Either way, I would be honored.
So be it.
Tonight, I start again. I hope I'm still funny.
Friday, May 11, 2007
The Echinertia Excuse
Wow... has it really been two months since I last posted at Jumbled Encephalon Noodle Salad? Well, please allow me to explain.
When last I posted (7 March 2007), cold and flu season was still in full bloom. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I do not like taking medication, unless I absolutely have to. However, I was also trying to stave off coming down with a nasty bug as spring approached. So... I strolled down to this local pharmacy to pick up an herbal suppliment to bolster my immune system.
Evidently the pharmacist was new. He looked like he was about twelve and, while I thought he might be albino, come to find out he was just really blonde and had a milk moustache. He thought he was handing me a bottle of echinacea.
He gave a bottle of echinertia instead.
I ended up taking echinertia. For two straight weeks, I kept popping these echinertia suppliments and slowing down more and more all the time. Quite frankly, by the time I realized the pharmacist's error, I had taken so much echinertia that I'm just now getting back to normal speed.
The good news is I didn't catch a cold. The bad news: it still takes me about ten minutes to walk to the bathroom in the middle of the night. And that's a problem!
When last I posted (7 March 2007), cold and flu season was still in full bloom. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I do not like taking medication, unless I absolutely have to. However, I was also trying to stave off coming down with a nasty bug as spring approached. So... I strolled down to this local pharmacy to pick up an herbal suppliment to bolster my immune system.
Evidently the pharmacist was new. He looked like he was about twelve and, while I thought he might be albino, come to find out he was just really blonde and had a milk moustache. He thought he was handing me a bottle of echinacea.
He gave a bottle of echinertia instead.
I ended up taking echinertia. For two straight weeks, I kept popping these echinertia suppliments and slowing down more and more all the time. Quite frankly, by the time I realized the pharmacist's error, I had taken so much echinertia that I'm just now getting back to normal speed.
The good news is I didn't catch a cold. The bad news: it still takes me about ten minutes to walk to the bathroom in the middle of the night. And that's a problem!
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