So I had a whole card written on the back on the back of this. But. I don't think I want to transcribe it all. I think I might rework the writing differently. It essentially was the embodiment of this graph:
Saturday, September 19, 2020
I finished John Scalzi's "Old Man's War" and "Murder by Other Means" back to back. I came to the realization how much I do not like Hugo award-winning sci-fi novel Writer John Scalzi compared to fiction novella writing John Scalzi. People keep comparing his writing to the Expanse Series by James SA Corey. It's not. "Redshirts" was "okay" and I did not care for "Old Mans War." John Scalzi takes mildly interesting / likable characters and attempts to humanize and impress these characters by killing (often violently) other more likable characters around them. The Dispatcher was a more palatable series. But it's just more John Scalzi except he is killing characters (very gray characters) in a world where people come back from the dead. I found John Scalzi's writing of what essentially amounts to descriptions of old people fucking for 2 chapters somewhat... excessive. So am I a prude? Or is he at fault for not making it more palatable for me? Am I vain for contemplating this element of his writing vs. the greater arcing of theme of the futility and senselessness of war, and the evil of man? Fuck writing. -T.M. www.Minormumbles.com
Sent to P.R. Ursa added the writing to the front of the postcard while I was distracted with editing this blog. I am pretty sure those are U's. She says it says the word "Daddy"
Since birth I've been rocking Ursa to sleep with a good night playlist. It starts with C. W. Stoneking's "The Zombie" then has a variety of tracks a few from "Over the Garden Wall", Pink Floyd, Streetlight Manifesto, among others. In my arms, Ursa grows restless and starts talking. I tell her I can't understand her with the pacifier in her mouth. She pulls it free and sits back in my arms "...stay with me just a little longer? " "What?" I ask. She starts humming, for a few moments smiling "It always seems like you are leaving when I need you here..." My 2 1/2 year old says to me as she leans in to touch my face warmly. "Won't you stay with me just a little longer it all..." her words melded into a mix of baby speak but I could clearly tell she was singing along with the music now. She almost had the la la la's down at the end. And it was true I did not want the feeling to end. - T.M. "Violent Femme"
Friday, June 30, 2017
Text: I farted. I am not proud of that fact but, it happened. I was alone in a room cleaning it up after surgery. No cases to follow. Perhaps I felt safe? In a room adjacent to the OR, a coworker knocked on the door and gave me a friendly middle finger through the glass and smiled. I walked over dragging the shame cloud of my flatulence with me. It carried a familiar smell I could not place. I opened the door and he was checking the shelves for outdated product. My guilty conscious urged me to speak. "In an effort to meet full disclosure...I just farted. It's pretty bad." He replied, "Is that why it smells like McDonald's in here?" I laughed. It did. Like a large order of fries.
Wednesday, May 3, 2017
Monday, May 1, 2017
It’s midnight, I’m off tomorrow but I am awake fighting to keep my eyes open. The video game I am playing, I beat two days ago. SPOILER ALERT! There are two endings. The planet is slowly changing all those on it…so you can activate a bomb which will destroy the entire planet killing you and everyone else or...you can also let the planet grow to its full potential which I think represents the spanse of all knowledge which instead traps everyone including the ships in orbit...presumably for eternity. Perhaps it’s a metaphor? Being a game completionist I am now playing for the last achievements. To get 100% I have to spend 60 minutes within the in game mazes. I have to be moving to get credit. I have found everything in the mazes and I am literally wandering around aimlessly because I have no aim or goal beyond simply walking around to drive up the clock. In essence I could turn it off thereby “blowing it up” but no, I am trapped… Moving back and forth within tight dizzying mazes I have already mapped out and unraveled to prove to the game I am capable of being lost.
This was found and purchased at the “Grimm” estate sale. I have no clue if it was featured in any episodes. There was a lot of stuff. They must have sent people out to buy stuff from goodwill's or flea markets. Many of the items still had price tags on them. I bought belts for a furniture piece I have been working on. I few jackets that may or may not have been worn by Hank or Monroe. A mug that may or may not have been in Rosalee’s hands in a morning scene. A few flannels that may or may not have had a dead wesen in them at some point. I have yet to finish the show...and they stopped filming and the series finale was a few weeks ago. I do not like the show as I much as I used to earlier on the show. It feels like the show is on its way to ending poorly. “Juliette” is putting on her leather jacket and she is revving her motorcycle; getting in position for a sixth season shark jump.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
I don’t know why I said it. The picture of the dog stuck out among all my political post and news reports. A picture of a small dog. Its mouth is open in such a way that it sort of looks like it is grinning. “Cuuuuuuute!” “(: OH EM GEE!” I saw my mouse move over the words “Write a comment…” The caption reads “ZOMG! SO CUTE <3 <3” I type the words “Looks delicious.” She unfriended me. Mutual friends asked me “Why did you say that? It was creepy.” I had no answer, it really could not have been THAT delicious honestly.