Acronyms

GAH!


See, normally, I'm a lover of all things acronymical. It started with re-runs of that old British TV show The Avengers, which always had funny acronyms meant to poke fun at bureaucratic efficiency.

Two I can remember right off hand:

FOG: Friends of Ghosts

SMOG: Scientific Measures and Inquiries of Ghosts


NEPA, CERCLA, EPA, CEQ, DOD, EIS, EA, BLM, RCRA, DOA, USGS, USDA, GAH

GAH of course stands for Grating Acronym Hell

Coniferosaurous

The Bald Cypress or Taxodium distichum is a conifer prevalent in the swamps, floodplains, and river banks of the South-East US. It prefers really wet soil and is often found growing in water. A member of the Cupressaceae family, the Bald Cypress is related to the giant Redwoods and Sequoias of the Western US, thus explaining its proclivity to grow to monumental size.

Most large specimens have been logged due to the Cypress' wood being considered very favorable for construction. 

The Senator, found at the aptly named Big Tree Park in Longwood, FL is a mammoth. 

It was growing dark and the park was closing. I feared I would not have enough light to get a good picture.

But I had to see the tree. When you walk into the clearing, you feel like Alan Grant in Jurassic Park, walking under the legs of the Brachiosaur.

Working the Shop

Did the old story in class today.

It's always fun to get your stuff picked apart.

And I'm being serious here. It's nice to have other people read what you've written.

The funny thing: every tiny criticism that you have for your piece will be pointed out to you.

Everybody notices something different. It just proves that you're not paranoid--it really was a crappy ending.  

Eximius Obscurra

Here is a super obscure British band that I don't think ever made much other than an EP (which is excellent).

I had a thought to put here.

Something profound and deeply pertinent.

I started watching Mulholland Drive. Deeply troubling. The bit with the gremlin-guy jumping out from behind that restaurant--I jumped.

David Foster Wallace, in his interview with Charlie Rose, said something to the effect that the first time he saw a David Lynch film, it changed his whole perspective on creating. It broke all the rules he'd established for himself.

Needless to say, he was inspired to create excellent, experimental fiction.

I feel kind of like Wallace inspired me in the same way. When I finished Infinite Jest I was floored and in shock. I couldn't imagine a human mind being able to really go where he went.

But so I have to get back to this Lynch film.

...nothing like the sun

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.

dark like the moon

shining only at night.

I steal away to the forest

under her gaze

to spy and smoke and pass the night.



there is nothing like a full moon. nothing like the glow of the green leaves, incandescent in the night's glow...

Crying Like a Church on Monday

I am the epitome of sloth. I failed to accomplish anything meaningful today. But I rejoice. The day is through. At this late hour, I await tomorrow for promise of greater things.

On the plus side, and this is really a plus here--I discovered my car does not need to be put in the shop. The funny barbie-car whine is from a lack of power-steering-fluid.

I felt quite manly when I discovered this.

It's the little things.

Marine Mammals

These were taken last weekend at the dock near my parents house on the Indian River near Mosquito Lagoon and Canaveral National Seashore. It seems like every time I go out there around dusk, there is a pod of ten to fifteen of them swimming around, playing and feeding.

At first, we thought they were sharks.


The dock is also frequented by birds, as you can see.


You can see the Lagoon off in the distance. On a clear day, you can also make out the lights on the complex at Kennedy Space Center.

Waitresses Don't Flirt

Waitresses Don't Flirt

Dear Son—

You are young but soon you will be a man. Maybe you will be lucky enough to have a girl to call your own. But if you don't, if you find yourself alone when you hit the age that it's socially acceptable to go out by yourself and do things on your own then I hope this advice will find you well.

You see Son, there is perhaps no more complicated social relationship you will ever encounter than the one between a single American male and his waitress. You will be confused. You will be troubled. You might even be hurt. Just know that it's okay to feel these things. Everyone has to go through them.

First off, let's get this out of the way—she doesn't like you. There are about a hundred to two hundred guys a week (depending on where you're eating) that talk to her and that interact with her and chances are, you're no different than any of them. And I don't want you to think you're not a cool kid. Because you are. But son, what you have to realize is that this woman is working for peanuts and her whole hope for regaining any shred of dignity after putting up with all the leers and ill-timed jokes is that you're going to tip really, really good. 

When this girl sees you, if it's slow she will fight with the other waitstaff to seat you. She will see you are alone. She will see that you are shy and that her attention is making you blush. She will see that you're whats called an “easy tip.”

And here I want to point out that tipping is not a bad thing. These people really deserve it. You're too young now but when you come of age, you will probably have a job in the service industry and if you do, you will see that it is a thankless, meaningless, hopeless means to an end and that every gratuitous penny you make helps to maintain the facade that the job isn't as bad as you know it really is.

So give her a tip. Whatever you can afford, though. Don't try and put her through college.

When this girl comes to your table and takes your order, and later, when she delivers the food, you will gush thanks for her attention like she is giving you free money. This is her job. You're paying for the food don't forget, so if something looks amiss—if the steak is overdone or if you asked for coleslaw instead of a salad, don't be afraid to say something. You won't offend her. She's not going to take it personally if you ask for a refill on your root-beer.

Slurping an empty cup to get to the last bit of watered-down drink at the bottom is rude. It's also the quickest way to get her attention. They hear this sound all day, every day—often in their dreams when they sleep at night. So when you start slurping and sucking through your empty straw, she will be there almost immediately with her smiles and cheer and a new root beer. Do not abuse this power.

And do not eat the ice-cubes. They're filthy, often times just a nic cleaner than the water in the toilet bowl. Seriously, I've read studies on it. Don't do it.

She might call you something when you tell her what you want. She might say something like “that sounds good, hun” or “coming right up, sweetie.” You will feel special, like this is a pet name—something she would say after a night of fuzzy yellow light, spent together in arms, huddled against the cold wind. You are not her sweetie. You are not her hun. You do not know this girl. She might not even be wearing a name tag. She is no one. You are no one. You might be no one together, briefly, in that place. But then it's over, the bill is folded on the table and she is looking at you from over by the counter, wondering when you're going to leave so she can seat another party.

When you leave, she'll smile sweetly. You'll be distracted by the smile, so much so that you miss the eyes—vacant and maybe a little sad or distant. Not for you to see. Not for you to know.

Pay and get out.

Maybe you will read this son. Maybe it won't matter. Maybe your mother will hide this letter with all my others in the bottom drawer of her dresser, under the shirts she doesn't wear—that she's forgotten she owns. Maybe she will give it to you someday when all of this has come and gone and I'm nothing but a dusty scratch of memory on your history.

I write to you sitting here, watching her as she grabs the coffee mug off of the burner. In front of everyone, a steaming white mug. She will approach me soon with my own bill and her smile will say be nice, tip well, pay, and get out.

Don't be a fool. Remember yourself, your loves and the lives they live.

Yours Faithfully,

Dad