by Catherine Heyl
The cat tiles have been muffled in tissue amongst my things for ten years, moving from place to place . It feels good to unwrap them.
foggy morning
Death on the Ridge Road by Grant Wood
The painting is at the Williams College Museum of Art and has more drama than most movies. I first saw it when I was young(er) and (even more) impressionable. The echo of it outside my new lodgings gives the view some potential, don’t you think? Caper stands on the bed and barks at whoever comes over the hill. But I can’t accuse her of having any art historical leanings. She just likes the sound of her own voice.
More on Grant Wood here.
The left tackle who was the subject of Michael Lewis’ very interesting analysis of the economics of the modern football offense, The Blind Side, has kept his shit together at Old (Ol’?) Miss and was drafted to the Ravens. I think I will go watch him play in the fall- another reason to visit that fine city. Read the book, let me know if you want to come. The talking shoulders on ESPN are in love with him, proving again that brutality and sentimentality are close relatives.
Often the thing that comes closest to the feeling of the truth is lies. This is not a bad thing. Facts are often irrelevant and fairly dull. Lies can be poetry. And feelings are, sadly, totally divorced from reality.
Moist Von Lipwig is a career conman who gets caught and after being hung til almost dead is placed in charge of the completely dysfunctional postal service of a seething, crooked, multicultural city. He is the perfect management choice. He uses his confidence tricks to understand people and get them to do amazing things. His gold suit and fakery works better than any dull facts.
Perhaps this is why all management texts and “leadership” training are absolute and utter bullshit. What you need to do is make people believe they are leaders and they will behave like them. And, you need to give them a show.
We have this amazing store of energy that positively leaks out of us, if we don’t put it to work. We get to choose how we direct that power for as long as we have it- it is mostly invisible and so potent that usually we can’t bear to think of it.
Good luck with your confidence games this week, my friends.
nice flickr photo
Posted in eating out
I’m lying down in the road
trying to grind a smear of
feathers and gristle
into the hollow between
my shoulder blades.
If I smell like death
I can walk right next to you
and you won’t know
I’m alive.
smells like failure. delicious!
“It sounds like what you have is the rug, but you don’t have the kidnapping and all the stuff that happens afterwards.”
It is true. All I had was the rug. And I have been embroidering a piss soaked rug for 3 years. Time to let it go.
I’ll keep writing little things until I get a new idea, hopefully one that includes a plot.
caper is impressed with my fashion design.
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