Trying to beat the medley of Disney songs out of my head.
Heard an Alice in Chains song the other day. It reminded me of going to the Clash of the Titans tour at the Spectrum in Philadelphia sometime in ‘91, where they opened for Slayer, Megadeth, and Anthrax.
Well, shit, now I’m gonna have to go dig up some Mustaine and Scott Ian.
“There is one other element that comes into play: After I have that moment of self-doubt, I tend to immediately have a second thought. That thought generally starts by reassuring me that I’m awesome (I’m a big fan of positive self talk). Then I remind myself that I have fought a war. I have ridden into battle and I have come out victorious. I have beaten and killed my enemy. My foe lays vanquished. And that war was hard and it left scars. It robbed me of things that I will never get back. And the scars that mark my chest should remind me every day, not only that things were taken from me in that war. But they should also serve as celebrations of my domination over cancer. They are proof that I should wear as a badge of valor. Evidence that I went into battle and came out the victor. I shouldn’t be ashamed of them. I should be proud. And when a cute bartender sees them, he should be amazed by my courage and strength and fall to his feet, trembling, and worship me like the hero I am.”—
My friend, HM, on why she’s decided against reconstructive surgery following a double mastectomy.
I want to buy a pair of classic espadrilles as a summer shoe for around the house, beach, etc. I found some at UO. Margaret says it will make me look like an old man and asks if I will wear linen pants. Sigh.
If this story doesn’t give you a case of THE RAGE, there is something seriously deficient in your soul.
But before they could go home, there was one more form and one more attempt to get the survivors to give information. At the hotel, there were representatives for Transocean who asked Choy to initial a line that said: I was not injured as a result of the incident or evacuation.
Choy had seen men with open wounds and burning flesh. He knew 11 of his friends were dead. He felt he was among the lucky ones.
Exhausted and just wanting to get home with Monica, he signed.
That angers his attorney, Steve Gordon of Houston.
"And that’s how they treat them? It’s absurd. It’s unacceptable, and it’s irresponsible," Gordon says. "Criminals get a chance to talk to a lawyer. They purposely kept them away from the public."
And when Choy sued his employer, Transocean wrote back and said: But you signed that form. You said you weren’t injured.
"It shouldn’t count, because I’d been up for almost 40 hours … and just gone through hell," Choy says. "And they want to throw papers in my face for me to sign to take them, you know, out of their responsibility.
Get a drawing of yourself in brush-and-ink by a guy who looks like he knows how to do it well. $10 for a 4x6 headshot seems like a no-duh to me. Would make a FINE avatar, no? $50 gets you a 9x12 of 5 people, perfect for a nifty family portrait…
Spread the word, I want this to succeed so I can gets me mine.
My friend Brett and his sister organized this crazy art project/collective up in Minneapolis. It just got the full on Storque treatment over at Etsy. I love Brett’s nonsensical pseudo-hippie-art-crowd psychobabble. Hilarious.