tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75889367041391223672024-03-05T10:33:23.351-06:00oldstandbyberrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.comBlogger514125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-61504465290058868602013-02-25T22:48:00.001-06:002013-02-25T22:48:11.806-06:00Go to <a data-mce-href="http://theoldstandby.com" href="http://theoldstandby.com/">theoldstandby.com</a> instead. That's where I am now.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-6479029528657089232011-02-15T17:28:00.004-06:002011-02-15T17:39:40.085-06:00the two best things I saw on my bike ride home from work today<ol><li>A woman grimacing—there's no other word for it, it was a for real <span style="font-style: italic;">grimace</span>—as her dog squatted and pooped right into a puddle along a curb. It was in the middle of downtown at the start of rush hour.</li><li>A man carrying an actual hobo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bindle</span>. I mean, it was some real legit stuff. But instead of wrapping his provisions in a hankie, he had a massively-filled bag of empty aluminum cans. And the stick the bag was attached to was hulking too, something he could start an impressive fire with if the weather dipped too low. But I guess it's never wise to burn the implements of your livelihood, is it? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">That'd</span> be like shitting in your own gutter.<br /></li></ol>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-80107886589542244072011-02-08T12:22:00.002-06:002011-02-08T12:39:05.646-06:00how it is (a marriage)Saturday night was a good for walking, so I left my bike at C—'s house <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">where'd</span> I'd locked it a few hours before and just hoofed it back home.<br /><br />Sunday, I went in the late afternoon to get the bike. Outside was slush and mess, so I took the car, jammed the bike in the best I could. While mentally kickboxing geometry, I realized I'd have to take the front wheel off.<br /><br />When I did, I noticed a wrapped condom weaved in the spokes, like how a kid would do with a baseball card.<br /><br />C—, I thought. C— C— C—.<br /><br />When I took my bike out of the car to ride to work yesterday, I undid the condom from the spoke. Obviously, I wasn't all that into the idea of lugging a love medallion (errr) in my pocket at the office all day, so I put it in the change tray, locked the car door and biked off.<br /><br />Later at night, A—, dear sweet wife that she is, ran to the store to pick up some things to lighten the cold that's been weighing down on me. She called me as soon as she got into the car. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Why's</span> there a condom in here? </span><br /><br />I explained about C—. She knows him, how he is. Said <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ok</span></span>.<br /><br />When she got back, she seemed agitated.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Are things were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ok</span>?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Her:</span> Yeah.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> So what's wrong.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Her:</span> Nothing<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Is it the condom? C— left it there, swear. He thought it'd be funny. Do you think I'm messing around on you or something?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Her: </span>Trust me, C— leaving a condom in your spokes is <span style="font-style: italic;">way more</span> believable than you being able to get laid by someone else.<br /><br /><br />Guess she just didn't feel much like talking afterall.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-42460932864720523662011-02-03T06:04:00.003-06:002011-02-03T06:16:51.938-06:00Titles of three books I'll never write:<br /><ul><li>Occidental Beards</li><li>The Education of a Flunky</li><li>A Wildebeest's Tears</li></ul>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-73491994874647798722011-02-01T21:39:00.006-06:002011-02-01T22:11:02.557-06:00on blizzardThe airport's about a mile away, close enough that there's a constant sound of spaced flights. They have patterns that switch like sluices. You can hear it always, though mostly you end up ignoring it altogether.<br /><br />Wind's doing things to the the snow, lashing at it, making it gumshoe the corners of the fence. It's unclear whether more snow is falling or if the stuff that's already fallen is getting agitated.<br /><br />I haven't checked the news, but it's so bad that all air travel in and out of this city has to have been halted.<br /><br />But still there's that sound like a jet. Whir—there's no other word I can think of for it. I'm imagining flights suspended over us, making a slow decision about whether to drop or leave. Airborne indecision.<br /><br />The windows of the house rattle, a very real thing. Everything I know seems like it could collapse into white.<br /><br />It probably won't.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-6703962773868178062011-02-01T20:54:00.002-06:002011-02-01T20:57:18.186-06:00"Aboard the gliding craft, a stewardess crawled down the aisle, over bodies and debris, telling people in each row to remove their shoes, remove sharp objects from their pockets, assume a fetal position. At the other end of the plane, someone was wrestling with a flotation device. Certain elements in the crew had decided to pretend that it was not a crash but a crash landing that was seconds away. After all, the difference between the two is only one word. Didn’t this suggest that the two forms of flight termination were more or less interchangeable? How much could one word matter? An encouraging question under the circumstances, if you didn’t think about it too long, and there was no time to think right now. The basic difference between a crash and a crash landing seemed to be that you could sensibly prepare for a crash landing, which is exactly what they were trying to do. The news spread through the plane, the term was repeated in row after row. “Crash landing, crash landing.” They saw how easy it was, by adding one word, to maintain a grip on the future, to extend it in consciousness if not in actual fact. They patted themselves for ballpoint pens, went fetal in their seats." - Don DeLillo, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Noise_%28novel%29">White Noise</a>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-5628309205026309032011-01-11T11:55:00.002-06:002011-01-11T11:55:00.634-06:00old standby<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5005/5345162418_6851c5dfde_z.jpg" /><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I've started <a href="http://oldstandby.tumblr.com/">oldstandby.tumblr.com </a></span><br />for sharing photos.<br />Been putting stuff up slowly. Surely though.<br /><a href="http://oldstandby.tumblr.com/">Follow me there</a>.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-2136611479299585782011-01-11T06:31:00.004-06:002011-01-11T10:14:50.645-06:00aesthetic luddite 12<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5282/5344551815_3e1c5bfc81_z.jpg" /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://berrylies.blogspot.com/search/label/aesthetic%20luddite"><span style="font-style: italic;">Aesthetic Luddite</span></a> is a "series" where I take then post photos of signs/typography I like. Mostly old stuff.</span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hamilton's Shoes</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Berlin, WI</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-37566645214377965582011-01-11T06:14:00.001-06:002011-01-11T06:14:50.625-06:00one thin dimeBaby, I stole all the money from your wallet and now I’m off. I don’t know why there’s that saying, “one thin dime” because if you think about it, dimes are much thicker even than a hundred dollar bill. Even a stack of those kinds. You were calling me names in your sleep last night. Again, I heard you slur at me. My dreams were the falling kind. Now, the light’s up again—you’re not, I am. I’ve ransacked your wallet, thinned it of everything; various widths. There wasn’t much there, certainly no hundreds. Was almost afraid I wouldn’t have enough to make it. But now I’m on the bus to work. The day’ll go quick. Today I feel it. Tonight I’ll be back, closing my eyes next to you and sleeping so deeply it’ll be like death.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-88946125004990185022011-01-02T08:20:00.003-06:002011-01-02T08:22:14.027-06:00Song of the day: Buck Griffin<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><p style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb_clD5MaFHdLKr05EscWE7tgS5ZQep2wb-7M7Lz5H7Xd4zrmvinfNvoKw8YPVsjO7FHVGoytr2A1XbU_b-RO3u03szEUQlIBKk541l-MdSzwazIyyKUAnrXO8V9J5sPIn0rRAA85Chc0/s320/Griffin01.jpg" /></p><p><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >Song of the day (1/2/2011):<br />Buck Griffin</span><br /><br />Heard this song when I downloaded the <a href="http://unclegil.blogspot.com/2010/09/swinging-boogie.html">Swingin' Boogie comp from Uncle Gil</a> the other day. Thought, <span style="font-style: italic;">Damn, I haven't put up a song of the day since October. That's a lot of days. </span>Thought, too, <span style="font-style: italic;">It's a new year, kid, let's get our head on straight and start posting songs again</span>. Then thought, <span style="font-style: italic;">This song's nice and catchy and you should share it.</span><br /><br />So here we are with this post. Read more about <a href="http://www.rockabilly.nl/references/messages/buck_griffin.htm">Buck Griffin</a>, and hey, enjoy the hell out of the tune.</p><p><br /><a target="_blank" href="http://www.box.net/index.php?rm=box_download_shared_file&blog&file_id=f_583981414&shared_name=qdzs0zoqh5">Buck Griffin - Let's Elope Baby (Lin).mp3<br /></a><object id="player_v04" codebase="https://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,0,0" classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" align="middle" height="52" width="364"><param value="sameDomain" name="allowScriptAccess"><param value="http://www.box.net//static/flash/mp3player_player.swf?playlistURL=http://www.box.net/index.php?rm=box_v2_mp3_player_shared%26_playlist%26shared_name=qdzs0zoqh5%26node=f_583981414" name="movie"><param value="high" name="quality"><param value="#ffffff" name="bgcolor"><param value="transparent" name="wmode"><embed pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="sameDomain" name="player_v04" bgcolor="#ffffff" quality="high" src="http://www.box.net//static/flash/mp3player_player.swf?playlistURL=http://www.box.net/index.php?rm=box_v2_mp3_player_shared%26_playlist%26shared_name=qdzs0zoqh5%26node=f_583981414" wmode="transparent" align="middle" height="52" width="364"></embed></object></p></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-50529307348413693792010-12-28T23:37:00.000-06:002010-12-28T23:37:26.120-06:0032 books for my 32nd yearI'll be be turning 32 on Sunday.<br /><br />Reading is something I love but am incredible lazy at. As a way to motivate slash intimidate myself to read more, I drew up a list of 32 books to read before I turn 33.<br /><br />This list includes stuff I've had on the shelves for years, classics I've never read, things I've heard are good, highlights from <a href="http://www.ilxor.com/ILX/ThreadSelectedControllerServlet?boardid=55&threadid=262">Donald <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Barthleme's</span></a> syllabus, books that just looked interesting when researching on Amazon.<br /><br />It's all fiction. That's where I want to focus.<br /><br />These are in no particular order, but updated with an order as soon as I finish them. The list is likely to change per my whim, and I'm very whimmy. Crossed out things mean I've finished them, blue ones mean I'm currently reading. (List started Nov 7, updated Nov 26)<ol><li style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><del>Amelia Gray - Museum of the Weird</del></li><li style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><del>Linsay Hunter - Daddy's</del></li><li style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><del>William <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Gass</span> - Willie Masters' Lonesome Wife</del></li><li style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><del>Leonard <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Michaels</span> - Complete Stories</del></li><li>Georges <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Perec</span> - Life A User's Manual</li><li>Thomas Pynchon - V</li><li>Don <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">DeLillo</span> - White Noise</li><li>William Faulkner - As I Lay Dying</li><li>Stanley Elkin - The Magic Kingdom<br /></li><li>Gordon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Lish</span> - Collected Fictions</li><li>Dostoevsky - The Brothers Karamazov</li><li>William <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gass</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Omensetter's</span> Luck</li><li>Mary <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Robison</span> - Tell Me</li><li>Sherwood Anderson - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Winesburg</span> Ohio</li><li>Donald <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Barthleme</span> - 60 Stories</li><li>John <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Hawkes</span> - The Lime Twig</li><li><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Flannery</span> O'Connor - A Good Man Is Hard to Find</li><li>Nicole <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Kraus</span> - Great House</li><li>Borges - Labyrinths</li><li>Franz Kafka - The Castle</li><li><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Italo</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Calvino</span> - Invisible Cities</li><li>Isaac <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Bashevis</span> Singer - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Gimpel</span> the Fool</li><li>Vladimir Nabokov - Pale Fire</li><li>Mark Twain - Huckleberry Finn</li><li>Brian Evenson - Fugue State</li><li>Christine <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Schutt</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Nightwork</span></li><li>Barry Hannah - High Lonesome</li><li>Barry Hannah - Bats Out of Hell</li><li>Richard Yates - The Easter Parade</li><li>Salvador <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Plascencia</span> - The People of Paper</li><li>Stanley Crawford - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Gascoyne</span> </li><li>David <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Ohle</span> - Motorman</li></ol>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-53164807288512497342010-12-28T08:43:00.004-06:002010-12-28T08:52:42.013-06:00scout ranchCool, informed update from one of my readers on the <a href="http://berrylies.blogspot.com/2010/12/official-jacket-of-boys-scouts-of.html">Boy Scouts jacket</a> I posted about last week.<br /><br /><blockquote>Hey, saw your post as a result of a google alert I have setup and wanted to clarify.<br /><br />That jacket is a leaders coat, and people usually fill them up with patches and the like from trips and outings.<br /><br />The bull is one of the older logos of <a href="http://www.philmontscoutranch.org/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Philmont</span> Scout Ranch</a>, a huge high adventure base in New Mexico. The other patch likely means the person whose coat that was hiked some (unlikely all) of the Appalachian trail. </blockquote><br />Thanks, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/09847729013964155916" target="_blank">Lou</a>!berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-77516884691062897502010-12-24T07:39:00.000-06:002010-12-24T07:39:00.829-06:00aesthetic luddite 11<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5207/5285622372_53401c9446_z.jpg" /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span style="font-size: 78%;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><a href="http://berrylies.blogspot.com/search/label/aesthetic%20luddite"><span style="font-style: italic;">Aesthetic Luddite</span></a> is a "series" where I take then post photos of signs/typography I like. Mostly old stuff.</span></span></span><br /></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Waffle House</span></span><br /> <span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bloomington, IN</span></span><br /></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-7460964169697589752010-12-23T15:20:00.004-06:002010-12-23T15:26:14.123-06:00official jacket of the boys scouts of america<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5127/5286543548_a63e6c7650_b.jpg" /><br /><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5209/5285945045_4123ed30ff_z.jpg" /><br /><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5042/5286543744_f914b15437_z.jpg" /><br /></div><br />One of the best things I've found at a thrift store in a long time. Doubt I'll actually <span style="font-style: italic;">wear</span> the thing, but couldn't pass it up.<br /><br />Jacket branded as the official jacket for the Boy Scouts of America.<br /><br />Can't really make sense of the patches:<br />- The bull would be for rodeos?<br />- Maine to Georgia/AT patch represents the Appalachian Trail.<br /><br />Whatever the case, the events that lead up to it winding up in Racine, WI thrift store in 2010 would probably make for an interesting story.<br /><br />If anyone can piece together the history of this, let me know.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-48994271217488901992010-12-23T08:15:00.002-06:002010-12-23T15:27:37.145-06:00chickenshit<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5004/5285087651_20e9622657_z.jpg" /><br /></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-9205421612421623382010-12-23T07:38:00.002-06:002010-12-23T08:13:43.802-06:00aesthetic luddite 10<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5281/5285024909_e87c302f7d_z.jpg" /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://berrylies.blogspot.com/search/label/aesthetic%20luddite"><span style="font-style: italic;">Aesthetic Luddite</span></a> is a "series" where I take then post photos of signs/typography I like. Mostly old stuff.</span></span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Victoria Hotel</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Racine, WI</span></span><br /></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-28164917447397584922010-12-20T06:33:00.002-06:002010-12-20T06:37:59.920-06:00Santa told the family about what the baby accomplished this year (well, the two months of it that's comprised her life–for ten months she was in the womb). Her report card read like this:<br /><ul><li>Did over 100 one armed push-ups</li><li>Won a potato sack race while reading War & Peace</li><li> Mastered Aramaic–the language of Jesus & his people</li><li>Ate 107 hotdogs in under a minute, beating out that scrawny Japanese kid</li><li>Swam the English Chanel. In her birthday suit!</li></ul>Give the kid a damn present already, man.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-63099797145534859052010-12-20T06:18:00.001-06:002010-12-20T06:18:58.164-06:00<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5166/5275822427_8b7ff281dd_z.jpg" /><br /></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-1791697604846084232010-12-19T07:02:00.007-06:002010-12-19T07:29:50.310-06:00some lie to tellWe'd come up with some lie. My dad was supposed to tell it to the person who answered.<br /><br />He picked up the phoned, dialed.<br /><br />Stammered.<br /><br />Hung up.<br /><br />Said, "I couldn't do it. I'm terrible at lying. I couldn't."<br /><br />I said, "What are you talking about? You're a great bullshitter. You did it for a living."<br /><br />His whole career, he'd been a marketer.<br /><br />An expression broke across his face like cracks in dried mud. "I only pressed six numbers," he said, "It was all dial tone."berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-86990514494324404552010-12-18T17:40:00.001-06:002010-12-18T17:40:51.228-06:00my clan<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5281/5271069947_fedfdc759b.jpg" /><br /></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-13256262577194695492010-12-18T07:00:00.001-06:002010-12-18T07:00:48.298-06:00God's people creep the shit out of me.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-85667173394622373432010-12-09T16:10:00.000-06:002010-12-09T16:11:11.063-06:00<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/17578700" width="400" height="225" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/17578700">Grove Press: Barry Hannah's Long, Last, Happy</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user5406715">Lost Pilot</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I need this book.<br /></div></div>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-49329595453188003742010-12-08T19:00:00.002-06:002010-12-08T19:07:42.943-06:00a foibleThe land’s suburban, a ¼ acre plot that used to grow a swapping of soybean & corn. The man’s German by decent and by temperament. He has a pet. It’s an imported, domesticated marsupial, small, and it scuttles through the piles of leaves the man forms with his rake. For hours and hours, he works straight with no rest. The two trees, maples both, hang over him like a tarp packed with God’s lice. He looks up, then goes back to his work. There is no wind today. It’s late October still and still as a glassy lake. The pet is not leashed. It’s trained well and knows its name, which the man cracks out like a horsewhip when the thing goes too far. It comes back to him. The many hours this work takes gives rise to calluses, muscles that will soon cry Epsom, Epsom! Color is falling out of the daytime, sheds of skin. The man switches on an electric leaf blower to get remnants the rake left behind. His pet startles. Goes right up one of the two maples. The man shouts the thing’s name, screams come here, a few words in German, any potential of expletive his tongue had waiting in it. The pet’s up the tree though, climbing the system of branches. There are a few still full of leaves colored the earthly expression of a very deep psychosis.<br /><br />Because of some weird application of footing, it all comes down: the leaves, the pet, all the junk that hides up high in a maple. Things you could never even guess at.<br /><br />The blower stays loud.berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-83076690049906424402010-12-01T08:37:00.001-06:002010-12-01T08:39:36.040-06:0021 sounds my heart makes that it shouldn’t<ol><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A car going down the Pacific Coast Highway with its muffler dragging.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">The theme song to The Munsters.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A shovel digging into frozen dirt, hitting a rock.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A major league baseball game broadcast over AM radio.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Harry <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Caray</span> wheezing after a homer.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Two cast iron frying pans, filled with Palm oil, clanged together, still hot.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Stray electricity leaking out of the telephone wires overhead.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A gate with dry hinges left open, slamming in a bad wind.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Bubbles.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">The city of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Mumbai</span>, capital of the Indian state of Maharashtra.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">The Dead Sea Scrolls, flaking to the ground when picked up.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">An office building first thing in the morning, before anyone shows up.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A tree falling in a very crowded National Forest.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Something akin to News Chopper 12.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Corduroy on a fat kid’s thighs as he or she runs from a pack of pink-cheeked bullies on a school playground in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Anytown</span> USA, USA.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">The giggles of a child who cannot yet speak..</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A curtain thrown open on its metal rod so you can glare at a neighbor mowing his lawn at 7 a.m. He will not notice this.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">My grandmother cursing.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Up 4 or 5 carrots being julienned.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">A <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">briar</span> pipe filled with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Burley</span> tobacco being doused with a lighter’s flame until the cherry buries itself in and stays going on its own.</span></li><li style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; LIST-STYLE-TYPE: decimal; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none"><span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: transparent; FONT-STYLE: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; COLOR: #000000; FONT-SIZE: 11pt; VERTICAL-ALIGN: baseline; FONT-WEIGHT: normal; TEXT-DECORATION: none">Clumsy ghosts scaring you accidentally.</span><br /></li></ol>berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7588936704139122367.post-31205773073778847262010-11-26T22:11:00.004-06:002010-11-26T22:18:16.707-06:00Willie Master's Lonesome Wife<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://img1.fantasticfiction.co.uk/images/h0/h1253.jpg" /><br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;">Most people are distressed, honestly enough, by their own dirt. Imagine the shit of a lifetime packed into tubs. It would be of comfort knowing it was yours. Still, the dirt of others is even more distressing. Pick another's nose, for instance. Proof enough? Well, that's my theory. We get used to it—our own—we get used to it. Soldiers get used to it. They get used to death, distress, and the dirt of others. Mothers, of course, get used to it. We whores get used to it. But all of us are harlots in ourselves, and soldiers: we get used to it—our dead breath and dying eyelight, bare basins and odd bodies—used to living in a trench.</span> - William Gass, <a href="http://www.dalkeyarchive.com/book/?GCOI=15647100488680">Willie Master's Lonesome Wife</a> (part of my <a href="http://berrylies.blogspot.com/2010/11/32-books-for-my-32nd-year.html">32 Books For My 32nd</a><a href="http://berrylies.blogspot.com/2010/11/32-books-for-my-32nd-year.html"> Year</a> "challenge.")berrylieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11365308889033651290noreply@blogger.com0