Monthly Archives: June 2010

The Esau

The magic of power tools is that you can do much more with much less. This belt sander Ashley let me borrow from work is a workhorse. I call it Esau, like the WWII British slang for a 1000 kg German bomb. I’m just aching to get my hands on a floor sander. When I […]

The God of Small Things

Kate wrote me the most beautiful thing yesterday; she wrote, Sarah, you’d make such a good Catholic. I keep thinking that when I see your posts and reading material. I laughed and wrote back that I’ve always loved Catholics because of their long and rich, beautiful, bloody traditions. I should clarify something that I know […]

Sound of Music, part I.

After months of moaning and groaning, I finally sent off the Netflix movies we had, and today Sound of Music came in the mail. So Annie and I started watching it, with a plate of too-expensive cheeses and bread. (Chapel Hill Creamery, for the record, makes an excellent Asiago.) A number of things I noted: […]

Mimosa trees and Sir Walter Scott

At the Orange County Social Club, Iris said in a French accent, gesticulating: Her ass was incredible, it was like two dogs fighting, like rwaff, rwaff! My friends think I stole the Jesus fan from the church in Charlotte, but it only read Please return to box after service. “Please” implies you have a choice. […]

Zen and the Art of ManlyMan-ness

I first heard of the novel Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values when I was a lowly junior at Parkwood High. The class was AP calculus. My teacher– I’m trying desperately to remember his name– was a short stout little redfaced man with a frizzy red beard and ambitions. We […]

Books and books

The more I read, the more I know I haven’t read. But that’s all right with me. It’s like having a bunch of friends waiting on the sidelines. This site tickles me: http://www.bookslut.com/ By heaven, the woman can read. She must not have a baby. And where is she getting all her fabulous recommendations?? Perhaps […]

Ridiculum

You said you couldn’t cut the mustard As if it pained you. Did you even know what that meant? How about, close but no cigar? Uriah Heep is rising writhing in the forest of my mind Illiterate mind, ascrawl with shorthand. Scratchings of a bird foot in the dust. Maybe Jesus wrote in shorthand at […]