Misc o llaneous

I propose that when a person guns down a handful of other people, the news media should not use the killer's name. Sure, sometimes it's some illness that causes the terrible action and that's horrible too. But I am tired of hearing the name of the killer and his story. Time to stop. Report the story and snuff out his identity. Kill and you will become generic and unknown.

***

Splotches are gone. What was fascinating was the sequence in which the offending sulpha drugs left my body. First this area, then that. The last body parts affected, after everything else had cleared up, were my hands. The palms were very red, like I'd dipped them in too hot water, a slight itchiness. The progression was similar to what the Human Torch goes through before he flames on. Sadly, I think I'd need to take more of the drugs before that happened.

***

My company had its second jam night with a bunch of bands comprised of us worker bees. Let me tell you, we got us some talent in the hizzy. (A hizzy, for you older readers, is a house. That is how I interpret it from my large collection of hip-hop records.) We rocked The Hungry Woodsman (no, I am not making this up) until 1:30 when we were kicked out. Best of all, in my company, everyone is free to act as they want to. No false dignity: everybody dance now! At one point, a guitarist broke into a smoking rendition of the Voodoo Child lick and one of our executives raced out onto the dance floor and slide onto his knees into the "we are not worthy" salaam pose. He was followed by directors and various folks. Now THAT is team building.

***

I finally ordered a grinder to replace the one I lost in the mini-flood. I have been putting this off but started to do the Starbucks math: grinder it is.

***

For some reason, whiskey tastes better to me than it has for years. Isn't that a heartwarming story?

***

Tonight I imagined that I was sitting in the Academy Awards audience because my novel was adapted into an Oscar nominated film. Fantasy, I know. But it's better than my usual fantasies of finding dollar bills on the ground. Or turning into an ant. Or turning into an ant who finds a dollar bill on the ground. See what I mean.