I make people laugh. It’s my tool of communication, albeit a blunt one.
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Work nightmares. Always a good way of knowing you have a good relationship with your career.
Postmodern Jukebox - Careless Whisper (Wham! Cover)
aint gotta tell me twice
"Mary Jane’s Last Dance", or "You Don’t Know how It Feels"?
Yeah, an Etch-a-Sketch. The early version.
There’s some hope for this flash of nostalgia yet: my Grandmother (on Dad’s side) bought this house when we were still really young: deep in the heart of Kentucky (almost to the Tennessee state line), you literally turned off the paved road to get there. At the time, it was a tiny 1 bed farmhouse (complete with outhouse) and a rickety barn. My dad bought it from her a few years later and moved down there, converting a storage room to a bedroom for his step-daughter. Again, this was all about space growing up: you’d walk down this massive hill, through a field with grass waist high, and find yourself at a pretty decent sized creek: deep enough to swim in, and alive enough to fish in. There’s a cow pasture on the other side that we snuck into once, and it was absolutely gorgeous: like something out of a damn movie.
The big silver buildings are chicken coops: After raising a few cows, trying out sheep, and giving miniature horses a go, they settled on raising chickens as a method to keep the farm on it’s feet. I think (though I’m not sure), that the white bit in the upper left corner is the house they’ve been trying to build for maybe this side of 20 years now. I was there when they laid the foundation, but I’ve never been back since.
For the past 10 years, I keep saying I’m going to go visit. But I’m terrible at taking time off… it’s freaking Cats in the Cradle, right? But I’m going to try this summer. I mean it this time.
And here’s where my grandfather on my mother’s side lived: Kimball St., in Brooklyn. It’s the one with the brown roof, kinda min the middle… without the pool in the back. An adventure of a different sort: first off, the drive was much, much longer. Plus, the boundaries of “playing outside” were much, much more confined.
That is, unless we were with Grandpa. I was his lucky charm at the OTB, which meant I’d go down with him every time to that smoke-filled room of sad and put my hopes down on a horse with a goofy name and long odds. One time it came through, it has to happen again, right? Yeah, never did.
That school wasn’t across the street before. It weirds me out.
New on Ways to Depress Yourself: look at satellite photos of places you used to go all the time as a kid, but never anymore as an adult.
This is my grandmother’s old house in Indiana. Beautiful house, out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woodlands. In the fall, the hills out back would be calf-high in leaves, and you’d dig through them as you marched back to the tiny creek on the back of the property. Occasionally, you’d find vines tangled to the top of the trees, and you’d be able to swing on them over the valleys. It was, in a word, awesome.
Grandma’s still around, but she sold the house to move closer to family.
Cherlene (ft. Kenny Loggins) - Danger Zone
I’m literally astounded at how good this sounds.