Scrivener July 17th, 2008
198/366
General Custer’s on the trail
His last letter’s in the mail
It’s propaganda, it’s marketing
Oooh General Custard died for your sins
And the good old rock where we once stood
Has got too old to be much good
And the good old ways are sick and lame
Third world on horseback
Cowboy in Flames
Scrivener July 17th, 2008
197/366
I’m, I’m gonna soak up the sun
I’m gonna tell everyone to lighten up
I’m gonna tell ‘em that
I’ve got no one to blame for everytime I feel lame
I’m looking up
I’m gonna soak up the sun
While it’s still free
I’m gonna soak up the sun
Before it goes out on me
Scrivener July 17th, 2008
196/366
When I was little, like maybe 7 or so, I was playing in the backyard with an icepick–it was a machete that I was using to clear a trail through the jungle that I had imagined from a few vines growing on the fence. Somehow, I ended up stabbing myself in the thigh with the icepick. I remember it in my leg, and looking at it thinking that I had seriously injured myself, but I grabbed onto it and yanked it out and nothing happened. It didn’t really hurt and it didn’t bleed at all. So I went and put the icepick in the sink and never said anything to anyone about it because I didn’t want to get in trouble for being stupid enough to be playing with an icepick.
Then 15 years later, while I was in grad school, I had this really sore spot on my thigh that felt like an ingrown hair, except it was there for a really long time. After a couple of months, when I thought it felt like it was getting bigger and it had gotten to be really painful, I went to the health center to have it checked out and the doctor told me it was just an ingrown hair and sent me home. A month later, I came back again and saw a different doctor who said it was probably just some sort of infection and he could give me antibiotics for it, which I resisted, so he referred me to a dermatologist, who said it was probably an infection but that she should cut it out and biopsy it just in case. So she did and when the results came back from the lab, she told me it was a piece of metal in my leg. And suddenly I remembered the incident with the icepick and figured that the tip broke off in my leg and had been slowly working its way out ever since.
Scrivener July 14th, 2008
194/366
Scrivener July 11th, 2008
193/366
The Omnivore’s Dilemma:
"Eating is an agricultural act," as Wendell Berry famously said. It is also an ecological act, and a political act, too. Though much has been done to obscure this simple fact, how and what we eat determines to a great extent the use we make of the world–and what is to become of it. To eat with a fuller consciousness of all that is at stake might sound like a burden, but in practice few things in life can afford quite as much satisfaction. By comparison, the pleasures of eating industrially, which is to say eating in ignorance, are fleeting.
Scrivener July 11th, 2008
192/366
I was cleaning and reorganizing in the office and found my diploma from Columbia, still in the mailing tube it was sent to me in. Really, that diploma was very useful–for a few years, I lived in a house with old windows that wouldn’t stay open, and that maiing tube was the perfect height for propping one of them fully open.
