Flotsam/Jetsam

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69484256009708494722012-02-16T11:39:28.570-08:00Flotsam/JetsamA weblog.Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.comBlogger241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-18269463306280740942011-11-30T04:12:00.001-08:002011-11-30T04:14:50.770-08:00If you stayed up this late playing Yahoo! Pyramids with iTunes on shuffle, you'd eventually get sad too.

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-5561663871376155942011-03-08T02:03:00.000-08:002011-03-08T02:03:28.160-08:00

Lodgedin the city.But nineteen, twenty years behindin my mind.Dreams of early-90s fast foodwith Mom & Dad & Megan.The smell of smokefrom woodstove chimneys--Life in the Woods.The Turners.Across the street that was actually a road.Their dog Sunny.Our dogs Lizzie(...) and Brandy.Fort-building.Chip and Dip Parties.Waffles at the Log.All of this comes back (forward, really--catching up to me)from

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-32431284095454103002011-03-04T17:00:00.001-08:002011-03-04T17:02:25.279-08:00Early evening reality check.

Oh fuck, I have to go the library!Fuck! Shit!I don't think I have time to do laundry.I won't do it. I'll do it tonight.Laundry.Okay:nap,shower,library,office,work,home,laundry,sleep.Food, at some point.What. A. Thrill.We need toilet paper.

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-29392361625643375652010-06-14T23:32:00.000-07:002010-06-15T00:13:27.742-07:00Our Charleston Day

My sister Megan and I made a little daytrip to Charleston on Sunday. We were excited.We bought tickets to attend the Spoleto Festival finale that night. We ate a delicious brunch at the Hominy Grill. We saw The A-Team on a giant screen. We happily explored our (Savannah's) sister city. We sweated like mad. Then we crossed the bridge to Mount Pleasant, on our way to Whole Foods for some

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-3432618241136652362010-02-25T02:12:00.000-08:002010-02-25T02:13:10.413-08:00HOW TO: Receive a $154 speeding ticket in the City of Seattle.

Keep pace with the normal flow of mid-afternoon Aurora Bridge traffic.Repeat said pace-keeping frequently for several years.On some otherwise ordinary Friday, notice asshole cop in your rear-view mirror, lights ablaze.Kindly pull onto side street.Be told that you were doing "51 in a 40".Be issued bullshit citation.Covertly issue asshole cop middle finger as he drives away.

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-63865714487010662392010-02-24T18:36:00.000-08:002010-02-24T18:58:10.704-08:00HOW TO: Avoid being disappointed by human beings.

Stop trying.Stop caring.Expect nothing. (Or, if you are particularly afflicted, expect the very worst.)

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-45327165171599171082010-02-03T03:26:00.000-08:002010-02-04T02:24:10.402-08:00The Allure of Crashing

Dear Readers: You're about to learn something about me.One and a half years ago, give or take a few months--specifics are for suckers (i.e., me), so I won't bore you with them--I drove from beautiful Seattle, WA to beautiful Savannah, GA. (I only live in cities which begin with the letter S, as a rule.)While en route, I found myself regularly fantasizing about crashing my truck. Driving down

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-77181098068320622512010-02-02T01:46:00.000-08:002010-02-02T03:14:43.802-08:00From "The Laughing Man"

One afternoon in February, just after Comanche baseball season had opened, I observed a new fixture in the Chief's bus. Above the rear-view mirror over the windshield, there was a small, framed photograph of a girl dressed in academic cap and gown. It seemed to me that a girl's picture clashed with the general men-only décor of the bus, and I bluntly asked the Chief who she was. He

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-4431622781999139072010-01-31T05:51:00.000-08:002010-01-31T06:00:18.343-08:00Old Hat

I write things sometimes. And sometimes I don't completely hate what I've just written. But given some time apart, my writings and I generally don't get along too well upon reunion. That is, I can't stand roughly 90% of the things I've written once I've successfully separated myself from the process of writing them.So you can imagine how nice it is to come across some old stuff, re-read it, and

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-77563311136097396132009-12-08T02:45:00.000-08:002009-12-08T02:45:44.627-08:00An Open Letter

To A , A , & N :You ruined my confidence.Thanks for nothing.Colin

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-64023964943769399102009-12-01T04:15:00.000-08:002009-12-01T05:31:56.198-08:00

I stared through the windshield at the trees in front of me. I didn't see the trees, but I stared nonetheless. If I had seen the trees, I might have thought to myself: "Those trees seem to go on forever. Those trees are never-ending." But, like I said, I didn't see them.I didn't see them because my mind was elsewhere. Or maybe my mind wasn't anywhere at all. Perhaps my mind had stepped out for a

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-52925815618292920332009-11-02T16:25:00.000-08:002009-11-02T16:27:19.070-08:00Found Phrases*

"Alcohol. Ravioli. Sexy. Erotic.""And food consumption in Italy?""who CARUSO"

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-68557459337386404382009-07-23T00:05:00.000-07:002009-07-23T00:24:18.250-07:00

It's becoming clearer & clearerthat most of the girls I really give a shit aboutdon't really give a shit about me.Which isn't to say that they aren't kindor that they don't care about me.Most of them are.And most of them do.But come on,let's face it:I'm not looking for kindness & caring.We all know that.

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-56497665355722496082009-07-05T21:49:00.000-07:002009-07-05T21:50:46.007-07:00The Return

Tomorrow morning, I will begin driving back to Washington from Georgia. 10 days, 9 nights on the road.Click here to check out a map of my basic route--all the major overnight stops, none of the minor details.To all my Georgians: I can't begin to express how sad I feel about leaving. I miss you already.To all my Washingtonians: It's been so long! I look forward to seeing you all soon.To

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-11944646465386419412009-04-14T00:15:00.007-07:002009-04-14T22:42:57.293-07:00Because I know the feeling, even if I don't feel it now.

IT'S RAINING IN LOVEby Richard BrautiganI don't know what it is,but I distrust myselfwhen I start to like a girl a lot.It makes me nervous.I don't say the right thingsor perhaps I start to examine, evaluate, compute what I am saying.If I say, "Do you think it's going to rain?"and she says, "I don't know,"I start thinking: Does she really like me? In

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-43570445284991893012009-04-02T00:04:00.005-07:002009-04-02T21:44:21.559-07:00Dye a log.

"See, I learned early on that it doesn't pay to be a good person. There's a line in Catch-22 that reads, 'The Texan was generous, good-natured, likable. No one could stand him after three days.' Well that's not it exactly, but it's something like that. But it's true! The more good a person is, the quicker everyone gets sick of them.""You've read Catch-22?""Yeah. Three times. Why, are you

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-1373202156597284992009-03-21T00:44:00.001-07:002009-03-21T18:07:43.886-07:00Denis Johnson's Tree of Smoke.

I finally finished reading Tree of Smoke last week. Took me long enough (I'm ashamed to admit that I tend to be a pathetically slow reader). Tree of Smoke is the latest novel from Denis Johnson, who is probably my favorite "active" writer. Simply put, I believe ToS to be a great novel, worthy of a significant devotion of time and study; a big part of me felt ready to start reading the book

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-22387264164233503212009-03-19T23:39:00.004-07:002009-04-20T10:27:55.026-07:00Language matters.

If you give a crap about language, check out this incredible website:http://www.wsu.edu/~brians/errors/errors.html#errorsThis deceptively simple page is called "Common Errors in English". It is a pretty darn comprehensive collection of, you guessed it, common errors made by English-speaking and writing human beings. I've been aware of the site for no more than five minutes and I've already

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-39874069188358774612009-03-14T00:08:00.005-07:002009-04-20T10:33:01.885-07:00Pictures in my head.

I often see pictures in my head. I don't even need to close my eyes.The pictures are diverse and many. Fresh pictures enter my head each day, whether I acknowledge their existence or not. Some of them move. Many are still.Only the most recurrent pictures are retrievable on command. The vast majority surface then are lost until they choose to rise again. I am sure that countless pictures

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-61916352487415594282009-03-04T16:51:00.005-08:002009-04-20T10:39:49.964-07:00Skateboarding.

So last night was my short night off. Tonight's my loooooooooong night off. And I'm pumped on it. Got off work at 4pm, don't work again until 330pm tomorrow afternoon, so that means I'll be up until the wee hours tonight. Just like I like it!For those of you who don't know, I used to skateboard. I know, hard to imagine, right? Chubby, goofy kid like me on wheels? Not the most obvious

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-37148616228198603342009-03-03T19:37:00.007-08:002009-04-20T10:43:44.670-07:00Late to rise, early to bed. (Isn't that how the saying goes?)

It's 10:10pm EST. I've been awake for less than 12 hours. 7.84 of those hours were spent on-the-clock at work. 0.62 more were spent walking to Vinnie Van Go Go's, eating two slices of their magnificent pizza, and walking back to the bookstore. At least 0.67 of them were spent on the road to and from work. 0.6(ish) hours went toward showering, dressing, getting-out-the-door this morning (I

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-37146007252595704322009-03-02T23:36:00.005-08:002009-04-20T10:46:22.443-07:00Being alone.

Two Winters ago I worked weekends as a lift operator at Stevens Pass ski area, high in Washington's beautiful Cascade Mountains. Looking back, it was a pretty cool job, even considering the ludicrous 4.5 hour round-trip commute (1.5 in my truck, 3 on a bus). The free season pass definitely took some of the edge off.Most of my days were spent loading folks onto Skyline, one of the mountain's

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-37749120224353065202009-03-02T20:45:00.005-08:002009-03-02T20:52:29.103-08:00Real. Adult. Feelings.

Ever wonder what goes on in the minds and hearts of 20-something Seattle men? Is clever, occasionally nonsensical banter your idea of good fun? Does the promise of blunt emotional honesty from the unlikeliest of sources grab your attention? Can I interest you in a free ice cream cone?If you answered yes to any of the above questions, you will LOVE Real Adult Feelings, the new podcast from

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6948425600970849472.post-59343389193895408612009-03-01T20:36:00.010-08:002009-04-20T10:46:07.901-07:00Typewriter.

So I've wanted to buy a typewriter for some time now--the better part of five years, probably. Writing on a typewriter somehow seems more authentic to me than writing on a computer (a symptom of my silly yet persistent Romantic leanings, no doubt). Central though high-technology is to my Everyday, I often find myself futilely bucking the tide of modernity(/post-modernity?/somethingelseity?).But

Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02228252312300424887noreply@blogger.com1