Lost

The interweb sure seems to get more funner to play in whenever you have serious work to do. And I just remembered I've been meaning to look up Daft Punk videos on YouTube. The new Readymade has the names tons of fun shoppes that have gifts you want to get people or want them to get for you. And it might snow tomorrow. Just too many distractions for me to sit still and write about the influence of painting on Mark Strand or maybe Frank O'Hara or why not both or maybe that's just a dumb thesis entirely.

Speaking of killing animals . .

as of 4:15 this morning, my total kills for 2007 are as follows:

Moles: 4

Bats: 2

Fish: 2

I am starting to think that this might be my deadliest year yet. When I was seven, I killed thousands of ants with magnifying glasses, but if you go by weight, I think it has to be 2007.

I am not proud of this.

The moles felt good at first--I had a lot of mole rage at the time built up from a few years of losing large swaths of creeping phlox and sweet woodruff to them--but I'm almost ready to call a truce there. This new trap I got from the back of Farm Show magazine works almost too well, though.

The fish were mercy kills, so having their souls on my conscience don't keep me up late at night. They both had terminal cases of "ick" and I could tell they were suffering. The only sad thing there is that I was very bad at killing them and it took a lot of whacks before they finally went to the light.

But the bats, I really do feel badly for them. In the summer, I just open a window and they fly out. Sure, I know they're going to crawl back into my attic, but they're cute, and I love to watch them swoop around my yard. But in the winter, it's a conundrum. If I let them out, they're just going to freeze to death, slowly. What am I supposed to do--catch them in my bedroom and set them free in the living room? No, I opt for a tennis racket, usually. This morning, I couldn't find the racket, so I used a cookie sheet. I think it was quick, if startling. I know I was startled at least--the adrenalin rush of the kill kept me from getting back to sleep, so for my penance, I lay in bed watching the time of my alarm tick closer, minute by minute, for the next hour and a half.

Buck Pole

The town where I spent my Thanksgiving boasts Michigan's "Largest Buck Pole." We were a few days late to see it this year, but caught this one instead at a club where my father in law hunts. What a horrifying picture. Why did I put this up here? Is it a protest picture? Am I just intrigued by the frozen blood dribble? Do I like the way the afternoon sun plays for the last time on the white fur under their chins? It could be all of these things. I just don't know.

It was a swell long weekend for me, mainly because I (a) did nothing, and (b) got to drive around northern Michigan back roads while a heavy snow was falling and accumulatin' and making everyone slow down. I've been ready for snow for a few weeks, so it was nice. It almost took my mind off of IU losing to Xavier and looking awful doing it.

Way, Jose

Man, this Jose Gonzalez record "In Our Nature" is really good. I had no idea. Anyone know if his first album is anything like it? AMG seems to prefer it, even.

TV

I really liked the first episode of Flight of the Conchords back when I watched it online a few months ago, but I never really expected the series itself to be as good as it is. It's just so dry and deadpan. When I watched the first disc of season one over the last couple of nights, I was laughing out loud pretty much the whole way through. I must be genetically predisposed for that kind of humour.

I think part of why it works is that Bret and Jermaine are completely deadpan during the "dramatic" scenes, but in the musical interludes they transform into whatever the opposite of deadpan is. Some of those songs are just hilarious. Most of them, even. Like this one, "Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros." I can't understand what Bret is saying at the beginning, but Jermaine's lines are ridiculous:


In other news, we bit the bullet and signed up for Dish network this week. Cheapest way to watch IU basketball. No choice, really. I'm a little worried, because I watched so little tv this last year, and now I'm going to get hooked on watching South Park reruns or something silly like that.

Library Coup

I don't know how I did it, but I was somehow able to check out the library's copy of the 2007 Best Non-Required Reading before Sarah Jane got to it. She must have been asleep at the switch or something, or maybe she's re-reading Twilight for the third time.

I want to like this collection so much, but those durn teeny-weeny McSweeney's wanna-beeny's who edit it just turn you off with their smugness in the opening pages. It's a group of high school kids who are plenty bright, but just too, too convinced of their own cleverness. From the Q & A they wrote about themselves and put at the front of the book:

Are they touched by some kind of divine light?
The question is a good one. There is rampant speculation on the subject.

Are they all great looking and charming and well dressed?
Yes. All of them, and especially Felicia Wong, who can even make her own clothes.

They even put their own photographs and bios at the back of the book. So, when they come to this blog after Felicia Wong Googles her name to see what people think about their collection, they will read the above excerpt and think "c'mon, man, it was a joke" and I will respond here in advance: yes, but not the kind that is funny.

And even Sufjan's essay was useless as an introduction--I think they just wanted to get his name on the cover.

Man, I didn't intend for this to be so hatin'. I better go rake some leaves for a little bit.