St. Benedict the Black

[Feast Day of St. Benedict the Black, cook and monk.] After all, I do live like a monk. One of the web cam ads I’ve seen suggest that “This is a hooter free site.” I like that, and I was going to run something like that myself, but given my propensity for wandering around the trailer with no shirt on, I wonder if that would be truth in advertising? There’s not going to be anything lurid or titillating, that’s for sure. One editor was mailing me about breaking up some of my long sentences, which then evolved into a discussion of my heritage (Ma Wetzel is Southern), which then brought up As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner, one of my favorite books. It’s really, really funny in a bleak, black, gothic, grotesque Southern humor tradition. And that’s why there’s this site, so I can run my scopes the way I wrote them, with long sentences and all, not something cleaned up for the average web consumer. “It’s a hard life to choose, being good and payin’ dues, but it’s the kind of life I’m livin’ and I plan on livin’ long.” (Hank III) I was out with the Pisces girl last night, had some fishies for dinner, a new sushi place that needed to be tried out. Two outstanding specials, one was hot tuna something, and the other was called Lava. No joking. Great stuff. Also: Baby Tako. Little baby octopus — looked just like lure I bought over at Wal-Mart a few weeks back. Tasted a lot better, though. Then the building supply store, then Amy’s. Then, on the trip home, a weird little detour around a now vacant construction site, an abandoned, half finished Intel building. Off to the office this morning. “Kramer, just stay away from the customers, okay?”