Conversations on art and monkeys and hair/vague narcissism

S: I showed Sadie a doll and said, L. And she said, yaya.

M: Yeah, she said something like yeah to me the other day.

S: I think she was trying to say L.

M: It wasn't like a real yeah, but more like that thing where if you 100 monkeys typewriters they'd come up with some esoteric Shakes--

S: The dictionary.

M: No, just a bunch of keyboards and stuff with feces all over them.

S: Do you say, "Here's L" or what when she gets here?

M: I'm usually upstairs, sometimes I've already left if I have like an important meeting or something.

S: I mean, what actually are you doing when she gets here? Does Sadie get excited?

M: Of late usually I'm upstairs changing a diaper when she arrives, and she knocks lightly, so I wind up not quite hearing her, and then I got downstairs like five minutes later, and she's standing on our front porch in the cold eating a sandwich.

S: Really? That's terrible.

M: Well what are we paying her for?

S: To take care of Sadie.

M: I thought it was performance art. Well, this is awkward.

S: Are you blogging or something?

M: I prefer to call it art.


Today was one of those days when my hair was doing exactly what I wanted it to, and I was really excited about it and certain I'd receive lots of compliments, and I practically skipped out the door even though I'm not usually prone to skipping, and I was worried that if I skipped too vigorously that my hair might accidentally fall out of place. Anyhow, I somehow braved the elements and made it to work in one piece only to go through an entire day where I received only two compliments on the quality of my hair. I mean, I know we've got famine in east Africa and somebody's baby, probably mine, just did something cute, but it looked good. Anyhow, the only two compliments I received were ones I gave to myself? Does it count if you steer a conversation towards something about you and then compliment yourself? Is that a real compliment? It's times like that that I fear that I've written a sentence that has that that as part of it and that I'm too self-involved. Also, a hell of a lot of thats in that sentence.

Anyhow, this post was supposed to be about baseball cards and childhood and the word ephemeral was going to be used, but I don't have the energy. I'll get there tomorrow. In the meantime let's all just have a nice laugh. Hahahahahah. That turns out to be more awkward when typed on the internet, though I was fake laughing in my head. The fake laugh wasn't really my laugh but more like the laugh of a friendly bearded guy from a Disney movie crossed slightly with a Japanamation guy. Like a real hearty laugh, just picture the guy from Rudolph claymation Christmas, Yosemite Sam.

Enough narcissistic rambling, it's time to quote someone else.

From the essay "Feet in Smoke" by John Jeremiah Sullivan about the time his brother had a near death experience and was temporarily made a bit off by it.

"While eating lunch on the 24th, suddenly became convinced that I was impersonating his brother. Demanded to see my ID. Asked me, "Why would you want to impersonate John?" When I protested, "But, Worth, don't I look like John?" he replied, "You look exactly like him. No wonder you can get away with it."


"Evening of the 27h. Unexpectedly jumped up from his chair, a perplexed expression on his face, and ran to the wall. Rubbed palms along a small area of the wall, like a blind man. Turned. Asked, "Where's the pinata?" Shuffled into hallway. Noticed a large nurse walking away from us down the hall. Muttered, "If she's got our pinata, I'm going to be pissed."