The elephant in the room (this post) is a duck. The duck-shaped elephant seen above sitting atop some well-chosen books and looking happy and eager to be on the verge of sucking down a martini showed up in my mailbox along with Gobstoppers and Whoppers (the malted candy, not the greasy flanks of flame-broiled cow). It was an award bestowed by the lovely folks over here for finally having started an effing blog. If you’ve never received a gift of candy and a pink rubber duck in the mail, then your life has been a cold and empty wasteland of disappointment and woe and I feel sorry for you. Mine was, but is no longer. You may covet my duck.
Then yesterday, I was blindsided by yet another award. This one spelled ‘brilliant’ like ‘Brilliante’, I assume harking back to olde Englande when ‘E’s were cheap and thrown at the end of words, willy nilly. My love for the Isles is no secret, which makes this brilliante award even brillianter in my estimation. Truly, my cup runneth over.
Having been thusly validated, my desire to extend props elsewhere is nearly choking me, for I am nothing if not a capable deflector of praise. Let’s begin with a short story.
I am a trivia ninja and Thursday nights here in my little hamlet there’s a certain brewery that serves beer while asking people questions. Now, for me this is like a chocolate-&-peanut-butter type of combination, because after a beer or two I turn into a fucking trivia pirate (I will not rehash this timeless debate, but highly encourage you to hash at your leisure here and O SWEET BASTARD, I’M BUYING AN XBOX360.). Last night, however, my concentration was lacking due to a song on repeat in my noggin. This would normally annoy me to no end, but in this case I enjoyed every minute because not only was the arrival of this song easily the most random thing ever, it was also terminally awesome.
Is it ever possible to have too much Schoolhouse Rock? No. No, it’s not. On with the props, then.
Two things about this post. The first is that the picture reminds of how I discovered this dude. A variation of the picture was posted atop an excellent interview conducted by Leah Peah and I was impressed with how he answered the following question: ‘How would your wife describe you?’ His answer: ‘My wife would say I’m a great solution when the only answer is cock.’ And second, everything he writes is prop-worthy. Period.
***Late Addition (Edition? Whatever.)***
If you aren’t a regular reader of Achewood, you should run to a mirror, scowl at yourself, then slowly shake your head in disappointment. Today’s made it in under my radar, but is really worth pointing out.
Finally, a little something by Affonso Romano de Sant’ Anna. The world seems to encourage the belief that we’re always missing something or living unfulfilled lives without doing this, owning that, being with someone else, etc. This is, of course, hogwash of the funkiest stench. Life is what it is and we roll with the punches and the love-taps alike, doing our best to find peace and contentment wherever and however we can. Given this, there’s something comforting about this poem.
Letter to the Dead (2000) –Translated from the Portuguese
Friends, nothing has changed
Wages don’t cover expenses,
wars persist without end,
and there are new and terrible viruses,
beyond the advance of medicine.
From time to time, a neighbor
falls dead over questions of love.
There are interesting films, it is true,
and, as always, voluptuous women
seducing us with their mouths and legs,
but in matters of love
we haven’t invented a single position that’s new.
Some astronauts stay in space
six months or more, testing
equipment and solitude.
In each Olympics new records are predicted
and in the countries social advances and setbacks.
But not a single bird has changed its song
with the times.
We put on the same Greek tragedies,
reread “Don Quixote,” and spring
arrives on time each year.
Some habits, rivers, and forests are lost.
Nobody sits in front of his house anymore
or takes in the breezes of the afternoon,
but we have amazing computers
that keep us from thinking.
On the disappearance of the dinosaurs
and the formation of the galaxies
we have no new knowledge.
Clothes come and go with the fashions.
Strong governments fall, others rise,
countries are divided,
and the ants and the bees continue
faithfully to their work.
Nothing has changed in essence.
We sing congratulations at parties,
argue football on street corners,
die in senseless disasters,
and from time to time
one of us looks at the star-filled sky
with the same amazement we had
when we looked at caves.
And each generation, full of itself,
continues to think
that it lives at the summit of history.
Sir @ August 1, 2008