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Willie's Off-Brand Web Journal: December 8, 2005, January 17, 2006

Saturday, December 17, 2005:

I came across the lyrics to a song called "Straw Man" that I abandoned during Airbag's recording process because I couldn't manage to finish it (and also because it wouldn't have fit the album's theme of unsuccored bitterness). I figured I might as well share 'em. They're inspired by the same nightmare that inspired Airbag's cover painting which I commissioned from Jon Chambers, in which I was a scarecrow in an abandoned field, all alone except for a family of crows that had built a nest in my torso. See if you can spot the point at which I completely abandon any pretense of inspiration!

"Straw Man"

I'm the obsolete cornfield crucifix
And there's nothing left in my chest
My once-imposing frame has warped
I'm just a captive host for a nest

Dignity drained and diesel-dulled
Assembled and forgotten
I proudly worked to broker peace
But the years have left me rotten

And I can't cover my ears against the insolent mocking
'Cause the mocking comes from inside me
My heart's been cut out to make room for the squawking
And my eyes were lost to DDT
Heckle and Jeckle's carcasses
Picked clean by machinery
I want to escape my bones
A straw man is a fallacy

Nails and wire, caulk, glue, and twine
Preventing even death throes
Winged parasites' eggs are hatching now
My guts kept them warm while I froze
Some kids hid a dimebag in my butt

CURRENT MUSIC: Negative Capability... Check It Out! by The Urinals.
CURRENT MOOD:
Kind of giggly, after having just watched Shaun of the Dead. Certainly a better mood than that which followed watching Head last night. Piece of crap, that.
CURRENT FILM CRITIC WHOSE EFFUSIVE PRAISE IS MOST DEVALUED DUE TO ITS OVERUSE:
Peter Travers, Rolling Stone. (Writers for "Wireless Networks" don't count, as I suspect they're about as real as David Manning.)
TIME:
5:35 PM.

Doot? | |

Friday, December 8, 2005:

[The bulk of this post has been removed because I know people who would take extreme offense to it, and I do not wish to upset them if they should stumble upon it. --Willie]

I've been temping at the Eastern Agency on Aging for the past couple weeks, and have been enjoying not only the work, but the conversation of my fellow workers. Today, Kelly, a really cool woman whose desk is right outside the room in which I work, called out to me, "Hey- have you ever heard of the Northwest Tree Octopus?"

ME: The what?
KELLY: It's an octopus that lives in a tree! I guess they live in the rainforest.
ME: An actual octopus?
KELLY: Yeah! My precocious little five-year-old son has become obsessed with octopi lately, and last night, he printed off a bunch of stuff from the Internet about them- all the different varieties. In fact, he asked me which octopus breed was my favorite, and I was just like, "Umm... I like them all!" and he said, "Mom, please don't tell me you like the Blue Ring Octopus, because those eat people." But anyway, he showed me this stuff about the Northwest Tree Octopus, and he asked if we could donate money to save them, because they're endangered, and he wants to go see them.
ME: Seriously?
[I neglect my work to do a quick Google search]
ME: Yeah, here they are! Wow! How cute! I want to help save them! That's so cool!
KELLY: Yeah, isn't that weird? The things you can learn from a five-year-old...
ME: So cute!
KELLY: I guess they live only in- whaddaya call it?- "temperate" rainforests?
ME: Yup, that's what it says.
JASON, MY FELLOW TEMP WHO WORKS RIGHT ACROSS FROM ME: Umm, dude?
ME: Huh?
JASON: Read "Why they're endangered."
ME: [muttering as I scan the page] "Endangered species... its natural predators are the bald eagle and... 'the sasquatch'"?
JASON: Yup.
ME: Oh. [embarrassed pause] Alright, they got me.
[KELLY and I giggle hysterically and are red-faced for the rest of the day.]

So it turns out I'm stupider than most.

CURRENT MUSIC: 10 Mistakes by Gruppo Sportivo and Buddy Odor is a Gas by Buddy Odor (a Gruppo Sportivo side project).
CURRENT MOOD:
1.1.
CURRENT FAVORITE MONKEE:
Peter Tork.
TIME:
8:39 PM.

Doot? | |

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