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Conorama

Expounding on Nothing

Impartial Observer

 
FACT OF THE DAY

Since I sleep with my window open and my neighbor Linda sleeps with her window open, I hear her sneeze exactly three times every morning between 6:30 and 7:00.

 
Bluebelly will post tomorrow. She is simultaneously mersmerized by the 3/4 moon shining in the window, the idea that doctors can actually transplant organs from one human being to another (namely HEART AND SPINAL MATTER, i.e. Mike in the Midwest), and continue to transfix scientists at NASA with data coming in from the Mars Rover. Geez Louise, everything is so ALIVE!

 
ANOTHER SIGN

Aside from the Santa Ana winds, autumn brings another significant event: the arrival of the screaming, flourescent green wild parrots. They fly in huge groups, making all kinds of racket, and perching in the tallest tree they can find. It's quite a sight, and one that always makes me laugh. Wild parrots.

 
POOR MR. B.

At lunch today, the damned Santa Ana winds whisked his cheetos away, never to be seen again.

 
UGHHHHH!

Don't you just hate it when you hide something from someone so well that even you cannot find it again?

 
REVOLUTIONS

In most parts of the country, the changing of the seasons is marked by temperature changes, barometer changes, etc. Here in LA LA Land, we mark the change from summer to autumn by the God Damned Santa Ana Winds.

They have kicked up early this year, and are as troublesome as ever. Palm fronds everywhere. Walk outside and your hair stands upright on end as if you've just stuck your finger in a light socket. Miscellanous debris flying down the street as if hitching a ride upon angel's wings. You get the picture. And it's eighty flippin' degrees.

Still, autumn has arrived. And I love the change of seasons. It's like a mini-revolt, a true revolution by nature to assert her dominance over all of life. It's as if she says, "I have changed my mind. It is now AUTUMN, and you damned well better pay attention." A revolution, a changing of the guard, a new mentality, a new perspective, and new appreciation.

Nature loves death. And rebirth.

The cycles of life, death-rebirth-death-rebirth. We do it everyday, every month,every year, every lifetime.

It's time to REVOLT! Just change one simple thing in your life: your toothpaste, your nail polish, your breakfast, your underwear! REVOLT! Change your haircut, your hair color, your glasses, your car. REVOLT! Change your job, your best friend, your apartment, your car. REVOLT! Change your attitude, your belief systems, your television news station. REVOLT! Change your sheets for God's sake! REVOLT! Change your heart to reflect what you really love, what you really value, what you would die for. REVOLT! Change nothing and appreciate yourself as wonderful you already are.

It's the changing of the seasons. It's time for a REVOLUTION.

 
HAPPY SUNDAY

The Guitar God and I met Nancy X. at the bowling alley for breakfast and a few games. (Yes, we actually ATE at the bowling alley and did not get ill)

There are always interesting folks at the bowling alley early on a Sunday morning:

The fellow next to us who bowled like Fred Astair, little skip-hop and all,
The very, very weird guy who bowled on the other side of us that didn't use the finger holes, he just hurled it down the lane like an Olympian throwing a discus,
The little tiny girl named Ludmilla, still in a diaper, whose ball took about two full minutes to reach the pins, if it made it at all,
The older Asian males who were betting, bowling, exchanging money and sneers, betting, bowling . . . . . . . .
And, the mean-looking 70-something woman with tattoos who took forever in the bathroom.

Nancy X. brought her own bowling shoes and ball, courtesy of Nethla K.

We mostly bowled like shit, but hey, who really cares. We had to leave when they started playing disco music, which TGG finds very offensive.

As a sidenote, I notice that there are always Santa Monica policemen eating at the bowling alley when we are there.