The gurgling sound of the coffee percolator in the morning/night. (I drink a lot of coffee). The smell of a pair of latex gloves. Popping open a fresh pack of guitar strings. The weird raw freedom I feel when playing the drums. Getting inspiration from strange places (like movies, music, or art works). And lastly, fantasizing about being the sole person on a barren wasteland planet like Mars. Not sure why exactly, but there is a serene quality about it.
I'd give a lot to hear my grandmother shout at us kids one more time, "In or out! Stop banging the screen door!".
Visiting used bookshops and finding a book to read....I often look on Amazon and eBay after and find the same book there but it can never compete with right time right place vibe
I found the original article written about a family of travelers while they were traveling to south america on a freighter. The woman was super grateful and it made me really happy that i could help find a piece of her history that she shared with her children.
the only ones i can recall are the "Omo Omo* 6ft 4, never had his arse kicked before, omo din wan' reaming wi' me knife, shoudna fucked an army wife" I can't remember the whole thing but it basically runs through all the other likely suspects.. the welfare officer, the quartermaster, the padre, the civilian lodger (omo omo he's the civilian lodger, hold 'im still, hack off his todger) and so on (*omo being like Joady ... the guy who does your partner while you're on deployment) there was one i couldn't possibly repeat about the cabinet members of the Major government every verse of which ended "Norman Lamont, we hate that fat ****" (Norman Lamont was the chancellor of the exchequer, uniformly despised for being responsible for service cuts ) and we did if i die in a combat zone but most of the words were different, as i recall it ended "tell my friends a soldier life is harsh, bury me upside down so the world can kiss my ass"
Well, I can balance a bucket of KFC on my... never mind. (Though, I am not a chef... I manage chefs and build restaurants for them, because they sure as shit can't do it for themselves)
Nothing. I am on a massive dose of anti-depressants. Nothing makes me happy. I guess I like creating things, successfully engineering perfection. I don't crave praise, but it does feel good to be recognized and it hurts to think that all my efforts were all for naught. I concur. I still wish I could have joined the military.
What stopped you? If you don't mind me asking. Sorry, I forget sometimes that can be an incredibly personal question, but the military can dogreat things for people. Terrible things as well, but for me it brought some of my most called upon memories.
I've been doing yoga rather steadily for a couple months now and lately, about halfway through a class, I find myself contentedly smiling for no obvious reason. Always goes away during downward dog, though.
Highly unlikely, considering the vast majority of law enforcement services use nitrile gloves, and not latex, to avoid the potential of allergies.
