Darker Days

Get this: I'm being flown out today to Lancaster, Ohio once again for approximately 24 hours, whereupon we'll be throwing an appreciation/Christmas banquet for the field crew -- this is all going to be in the restaurant of the hotel they've been staying for the past many months, which has been of suspect quality. And we're bringing the beer, which is going to have to be in oceanic quanitities to justify not actually taking them to a decent eatery. But then, I'm not sure if we have the facilities to keep it all cold, and y'know, this is a Wednesday evening, and everyone has to go out and work again tomorrow. Warm beer, bad food, drunk and unhappy archaeologists. Hotel Attica.

Meanwhile, I'm getting depressed about the house. It's been too cold downstairs to want to work on the living room much, and the slow progress is making me morose about having to live here in our historic bomb shelter, where I expect to open up a closet and see Fortunado shackled there. Barbara Corcoran mentioned that we'd probably need a marriage counselor to get through this whole process, but somehow she didn't recommend personal therapy, and perhaps heavy medication. I'm trying to revv myself up and throw myself back at it, and maybe a night of gruel and surliness is just what I need to get psyched.

Thanks to Caren for the link to this test. I'm apparently 78 % Nerd, 52% Geek, 34% Dork, which makes me a "Modern, Cool Nerd." I don't know if that's good or not -- being a a nerd has never been cool, per se, now it at least seems perceived as almost edgy. I've always believed that being nerdy is a disavowal of societal sheepdom, which makes at least 25% of the population uncomfortable right off the bat. Calling me a "cool" nerd sounds like a backhanded compliment from the nerd community. I'll have to get my membership card renewed.

I ♥ Dick

Note to Chris Dodd: Make Dick's "People = Shit" your campaign song. You'll still lose, but you'll be unbearably cool.

The Delgados, "Coming in from the Cold"

And now for your morning soul crushing...

Chowder Boarding

Public Service Announcement

Trader Joe's Butternut Apple Soup = vomitous. My appetite's been on the fritz over the past week or so anyway for some reason, and this crap just made me want to shelve the idea of eating anything for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, Janine's been on overdrive in preparation for Thanksgiving, and not eating's not going to be an option in a few days.

Meanwhile, I'm going to try to avoid the little bit of my finger that made it into the mashed turnips.

Dessert Storm

Janine's been struck by a bolt of inspiration that has moved her to seriously plan a bakery/dessert shop in Baltimore -- she started off with a batch of red velvet cupcakes a few nights ago, and they were remarkably good (of course, she plans to perfect them). She's giving herself a year to prepare, then launching for all she's worth.

She's now passing around the idea hat for names for her place. The short list is:

The Confectionery Goddess
Confection Perfection
Confection Cafe
Confectionery Cafe
Lord Baltimore's Bakery

My short list is:

Gastro-Punk
Cakes of Fury
Crisco Inferno (Bake Baby Bake)
The Painted Tart
Forni-Cake
Toothsome Devil

Anybody else?

John Bockhorst

Interesting story: I dutifully awoke at 5 AM on Saturday morning to stroll down to the Sip & Bite, a pretty lousy diner a few blocks from here. I was scribbling away at my Nanowrimo project when a young woman sat down opposite me an started asking me questions about where I was from. Then she started making fun of my damn accent, certian that I was from Canada or Minnesota because of the way I said, "though." And then she starts making ham-fisted sex jokes based on my astrological sign. And then it's pretty clear that she is, in fact, at work, initiating lines of commerce that start at my wallet and end in her pants. Propositioned at a greasy spoon. My life in Baltimore has become so damn peachy.

That sucks: I was actually planning to try to amend some of my recent reclusionist tendencies and get some people together to go see the Decemberists at the 9:30 Club in DC next weekend, but alas they've cancelled their tour. That makes an even umpteen concerts I've missed in the last year due to cancellations (Decemberists in DC, Innocence Mission in Philly), outrage at ticket prices (Morrissey here, on Halloween, for $65 a head), or sheer forgetfulness (Feist here, on 9/11, Peter, Bjorn, and John at the 9:30 earlier this year). Might actually have to spring for the delux reminder system at Pollstar.com to rip my attention away from this damn house.

Work is hell, especially driving 2 hours a day for the priviledge of obsessing about hyper-specific triviliaties. Luckily, I've got the mornings, which I'm alternating between the gym and Nanowrimo (again, for what, the fifth time?). This year is proving maybe a little more encouraging, though, with as much hand-wringing as I've been doing over the years about getitng back on the writing horse, I actually seem to have a storyline with some legs. I'll be devoting some time to it, at least, although I don't think I actually habor the delusion that I'll be piling up 50,000 words this month. I believe 5000 would be a personal record, so the bar's appropriately low. At this point, low is wonderful.

You know it's true, how nice.

Yes, it's true: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. May 2008.

We are simply passing through history. This: this is history...

So, so, so pissed.

My first letter to a Representaive:

Dear Representative Sarbanes,

With the outrageous commutation of Scooter Libby's prison sentence by Mr. Bush, this administration has essentially admitted that the rule of law does not apply to its inner circle. I had thought impeachment an inappropriate avenue until now. Now I must insist that you support the movement to rid the country of this cancer. It has finally become very clear that impeachment is crucial to preserve the very idea of President. To see the office sullied in this manner is unbearable.

Thank you,
Andrew Bockhorst

Now you.