Redefining misanthropy for a fresh generation. Standard posts begin with a definition from Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary followed by a modern adjustment. Miscellany on Wednesday and storytelling on Saturday.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Becoming
Story #65, in which we find Doug in Germany looking for 1982.
To hear the story, walk the lonely streets of Marburg.
To read the story, visit city hall.
This week in The Prattler, "The Foley Follies"to be published around noon East Coast time.
When I yawn I feel so strange With little prickles in my brain. My eyes begin to slowly weep It makes me really want to sleep. And then my mouth opens large Wide enough to fit a barge. And once I'm done I feel refreshed Unless at night when I need rest.
Oh my, that would have been a very precocious young Doug!!
I totally get the 'impossible to find envelopes and stamps' issue. Any of my long time friends know that I love them dearly but they better not get offended it I don't send a card for their birthday.....its a character flaw I can't seem to overcome. Thank goodness for e-mail and cheap phone rates!
Papa! haha - couldn't help it what with the first name and all. So the prodigal son returns to find out he's the prodigal father!?
You know that's a character defect that I share as well - the US mail thing. It's so nice to receive but I rarely get anything mailed. Once in a while I go on a sentimental stampede and send out notes/cards/pictures/locks of hair; then I come to and hibernate for another 6 months.
Loved the story now I have to go make sure our sukkah hasn't blown over...
I too can identify with the problem of keeping in communication with letters, even the electronic age hasn't cured my issues. I've taken to calling people anytime I think of them within a week or so of their birthday because lord knows, if I don't do it the very minute it flits through my head it may not occur again till next year. My gender protects me from identifying too much with your other issue and mango schapps sounds fascinating.
(I am considering, for the coming year, just sending everyone a birthday card in January, anniversary cards to those who look like they will make it through the year and sympathy cards to the families of those who don't, whatcha think?)
Ah, I see it's a Doug story week which means an I Heart Danger story. Well, normally. The closest I could find in this one was your taking a risk by booking the motel in the area you remembered this family having lived 20+ years earlier before looking them up to make sure.
Btw, I never tire of these pictures you post from your travels.
Paper, stamps, ink? Those words have a vaguely familiar ring. I can almost remember not having at least one of the above whenever I needed it. I have lost track of a few people myself because of the deficit.
In 1982 you were still a puppy. I have never seen a puppy leer.
leering does NOT normally result in the siring of a child, unless one is leering at someone *else* while in the act of canoodling. knowing you, however, that was not--nor would ever be--an issue. Quilldancer is right, you were but a pup in 1982, and puppies don't leer, they yearn, pant, and/or drool. all of which i'm guessing you did rather well. none of which would have resulted a waitress named Regina.
Fabulous story for this beautiful Saturday, Doug.
“I like to reminisce with people I don't know.” ~ Stephen Wright
LOL!!! now isn't that a real man who starts counting on his fingers immediately even when he knows and knows that he did nothing like that. maybe the power of his eyes? :-P
sweet story, now give me a glass of wine and good company.
Funny. So does this story tell us that there are no Doug offspring out there or just none in Germany? Oh and paper, stamps and envelopes...those were the days.
15 -- leer? No. The word "agog" comes to mind. I believe I was 15 the the first time a boy asked by chest out. He never even looked at my face. I told him I was sorry, but they couldn't go anywhere without me, then walked away so his brain could start functioning again.
ariel, I come froma large family and am the youngest. I'd like to say it made me precocious, but I was spoiled and adored. What that made me what it made me was mouthy.
Jamie Dawn, some day I'll Google one of them. How did you end up in Springfield? I think I've driven through between Tulsa and Memphis, could that be right? Did the school cafeteria serve frogs?
Aral, it was a good year for me too. I still thought I might be a good correspondent.
Quilly, that was merciful of you.
Those Angels are sharp pokers, aren't they Mistress?
Ariel, then it's probably good I was in Germany.
Quill, it doesn't sound like mouthy was the problem.
Quite the traveler, aren't you Doug? I was 18 before I saw anything outside of eastern Massachusetts, 20 before I saw anything west or south of New York (and most of what I remember of New York was a series of pitchers of sangria - and a basketball team that couldn't see the basket next day, never mind hit it).
And at 15, I'd decided not to leer at any girls. Or do anything else with them for that matter. Too dangerous. The next year, one tackled me. And went on to demonstrate the soundness of my decision. Unfortunately, the fruit, once tasted ...
Minka, I though the august Sabina had graced my blog. Add one more teutonic disappointment. Funny comment, but two things I'm glad for after my teenage years are that stares don't impregnate and glares don't kill.
To hear the story, walk the lonely streets of Marburg.
14:30 at my time, too late. but there's nothing like when you know a good story is waiting for you when you get home.
ReplyDeleteIt's 8:02 my time... I'm a little early...
ReplyDeleteHmmm... While I am here... :)
When I yawn I feel so strange
With little prickles in my brain.
My eyes begin to slowly weep
It makes me really want to sleep.
And then my mouth opens large
Wide enough to fit a barge.
And once I'm done I feel refreshed
Unless at night when I need rest.
Hey you're the one who started the yawning...
18 minutes to go . . .
ReplyDeletewait a minute, the blogger clock is different from my PC's clock ...
ReplyDeleteAriel, I don't think a promise a good story.
ReplyDeleteGood morning, Shayna and Dddragon.
Oh my, that would have been a very precocious young Doug!!
ReplyDeleteI totally get the 'impossible to find envelopes and stamps' issue. Any of my long time friends know that I love them dearly but they better not get offended it I don't send a card for their birthday.....its a character flaw I can't seem to overcome. Thank goodness for e-mail and cheap phone rates!
Papa! haha - couldn't help it what with the first name and all. So the prodigal son returns to find out he's the prodigal father!?
ReplyDeleteYou know that's a character defect that I share as well - the US mail thing. It's so nice to receive but I rarely get anything mailed. Once in a while I go on a sentimental stampede and send out notes/cards/pictures/locks of hair; then I come to and hibernate for another 6 months.
Loved the story now I have to go make sure our sukkah hasn't blown over...
I did the math too, and agree that it would be precocious. Some of your comments were also precocious--you're the only blogger who has a waiting cue!
ReplyDeleteGreat story, Doug, you never disappoint:)
(ohohoh, wait a minute. Was I accused of having a swelled head? What's this about a hat? Huh?)
Leering doesn't, but ... don't worry, very few cases of predisposition to body type have genetic underpinnings. *I made this up*
ReplyDeletexoxo
I too can identify with the problem of keeping in communication with letters, even the electronic age hasn't cured my issues. I've taken to calling people anytime I think of them within a week or so of their birthday because lord knows, if I don't do it the very minute it flits through my head it may not occur again till next year.
ReplyDeleteMy gender protects me from identifying too much with your other issue and mango schapps sounds fascinating.
(I am considering, for the coming year, just sending everyone a birthday card in January, anniversary cards to those who look like they will make it through the year and sympathy cards to the families of those who don't, whatcha think?)
Ah, I see it's a Doug story week which means an I Heart Danger story. Well, normally. The closest I could find in this one was your taking a risk by booking the motel in the area you remembered this family having lived 20+ years earlier before looking them up to make sure.
ReplyDeleteBtw, I never tire of these pictures you post from your travels.
(*Snicker*, Lady Logo. I for one will be checking my mailbox in January!)
ReplyDeleteReminisce... Ah 1982! I was only 7 then....
ReplyDeleteHa, ha, ha, haaaa!
Kyah, I was a lecher prodigy.
ReplyDeleteG, let no Sukkah fall.
Actonbell, I'm innocent. Honest.
Mireille, and none have visual causes.
Happy birthday, Logo.
Sar, no danger unless I slipped on ice.
Yeah, yeah, Miz B. How many kids did you have by then?
Paper, stamps, ink? Those words have a vaguely familiar ring. I can almost remember not having at least one of the above whenever I needed it. I have lost track of a few people myself because of the deficit.
ReplyDeleteIn 1982 you were still a puppy. I have never seen a puppy leer.
leering does NOT normally result in the siring of a child, unless one is leering at someone *else* while in the act of canoodling. knowing you, however, that was not--nor would ever be--an issue. Quilldancer is right, you were but a pup in 1982, and puppies don't leer, they yearn, pant, and/or drool. all of which i'm guessing you did rather well. none of which would have resulted a waitress named Regina.
ReplyDeleteFabulous story for this beautiful Saturday, Doug.
“I like to reminisce with people I don't know.” ~ Stephen Wright
LOL!!! now isn't that a real man who starts counting on his fingers immediately even when he knows and knows that he did nothing like that. maybe the power of his eyes? :-P
ReplyDeletesweet story, now give me a glass of wine and good company.
Funny. So does this story tell us that there are no Doug offspring out there or just none in Germany? Oh and paper, stamps and envelopes...those were the days.
ReplyDeleteMy question is this: What guilt or memory prompted the need to count the years, eh Doug?? Were there wild oats sewn during this time and place?
ReplyDeletei'm thinking the only oats that saw action on that first trip were the ones that were boiled.
ReplyDeleteQuilldancer, I turned 15 that year. You've never seen a fifteen-year-old leer? I don't remember doing much else those days.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Puppybrose, OK, leer was the wrong word. "Aspire moistly?"
Ariel, I think it was just realizing she was conceived while I was there. Cola Schnapps?
Squaregirl, I think I can account for all my stamps and envelopes.
Joel, not even a thought was planted, although there were some reaped.
Puppybrose, ouch!
Reminisce... In 1982, I was in college in Springflield, MO. What a fun time that was!!
ReplyDeleteWho's your daddy?? Tee-hee
I was SO hoping that you would have found that family.
I am sad that you didn't.
What a great story! 1982 was a really happy year in my life, actually. I was in 9th grade, and MTV had just come to town. Life was good.
ReplyDeleteSuch adventures you've had!
15 -- leer? No. The word "agog" comes to mind. I believe I was 15 the the first time a boy asked by chest out. He never even looked at my face. I told him I was sorry, but they couldn't go anywhere without me, then walked away so his brain could start functioning again.
ReplyDeleteThose angels use their pitchforks in my rear to often. I can't help but reminisce. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteQuilldancer, that's too funny, so witty at the age of 15! (I normally was deadly offended if anyone just looked at my chest, heh.)
ReplyDeleteariel, I come froma large family and am the youngest. I'd like to say it made me precocious, but I was spoiled and adored. What that made me what it made me was mouthy.
ReplyDeleteJamie Dawn, some day I'll Google one of them. How did you end up in Springfield? I think I've driven through between Tulsa and Memphis, could that be right? Did the school cafeteria serve frogs?
ReplyDeleteAral, it was a good year for me too. I still thought I might be a good correspondent.
Quilly, that was merciful of you.
Those Angels are sharp pokers, aren't they Mistress?
Ariel, then it's probably good I was in Germany.
Quill, it doesn't sound like mouthy was the problem.
Reminisce v. wander through old blog comments
ReplyDeleteDoug, did you know that you were the second person ever to comment on my blog?
:)
ReplyDeleteI just loved your definition of reminisce!
Zose Germanz. You haf to luf zem!
I think it would have been a fabulous blend, if only saliva would have reproductive qualities:)
Ups...that was Minka signing in on MOm´s computer :)
ReplyDeleteQuite the traveler, aren't you Doug? I was 18 before I saw anything outside of eastern Massachusetts, 20 before I saw anything west or south of New York (and most of what I remember of New York was a series of pitchers of sangria - and a basketball team that couldn't see the basket next day, never mind hit it).
ReplyDeleteAnd at 15, I'd decided not to leer at any girls. Or do anything else with them for that matter. Too dangerous. The next year, one tackled me. And went on to demonstrate the soundness of my decision. Unfortunately, the fruit, once tasted ...
Quilldancer, that's how I want to be remembered.
ReplyDeleteMinka, I though the august Sabina had graced my blog. Add one more teutonic disappointment. Funny comment, but two things I'm glad for after my teenage years are that stares don't impregnate and glares don't kill.
O Ceallaigh, you mean you were smarter once?
Doug, begging your pardon, but I ain't never been $mart. Not then. Not now.
ReplyDelete