Office Luncheon: Halloween Version: Friday!!

Holy shitoly ladies and gentlemen I am fresh from the annual holiday lunch party at my place of employ (and by holiday I mean halloween) wherein Jim Coggins from accounting is dressed as a bloody accountant and Tammy Ledbetter from HR dressed as a bloody wraith that closely resembles Tammy Ledbetter from HR. Also, it's something of a potluck so right now my stomach is rumbling and gurgling in a ferocious manner because I have just injested cakes and pies and salads and little dainty ham-sandwich squares. Oh, and my boss's boss brought something that was a dip for tortilla chips that tasted fair enough but then I overheard the recipe ("2 cans of chili, one brick of cream cheese") which to my thinking didn't sound particularly healthy-minded and as I sit here and type these lines I am pretty certain that the layer of chili dip has settled to the very bottom of my intestines like so much black
deep-sea sludge. I, your humble narrator and blog-post updater, did not dress up and so was taken to task by Ed Poon (something of an ass) who said loudly for the benefit of the room "what are you supposed to be Taffy? an incompetent office aide?"
This got the whole room roaring and set the tone of the mood for the rest of the fiesta. For awhile my ears were steaming but I consoled myself with some sugar cookies that were shaped like jack-o-lanterns. (They are currently resting on top of the sea-sludge). The scariest thing of all, no surprise, was the conversation. Man, my co-workers are real effing dumb. (no offense!). The best part of all this was the different ideas for songs that it gave me ideas for songs. Another way to say it is: Happy Halloween!

Thursday: Put on your Punching Goggles!

Prepare to be punched ladies and gentlemens! A punch of the sort that hits your throat and windpipes so you can't do much but stagger backward into a store display of canned peas and corn, knocking it backward, cans a-twirlin' because you can't freaking believe it. Yes, that's the kind of punch that Thursday is delivering to me with a ruthless power. For some reason I have been travelling down well-traveled corridors of ancient memories and lost loves and women I slept with but who don't sleep with me (or near me) any longer. Why!? This is a question that I can't answer. I did my best to provide a sturdy structure of love to hang my jacket on so that bliss could erupt and flower, like so many erupting flowers in the dew. But, sigh, no, it was not to be. Can somebody explain to me - please - why certain people choose to love you and how certain people get as far away as they can from you? I am beginning to take it personally.

Oh, what a bother. I should probably just let this all go. I mean frankly it's been many a moon since anyone chose to lay their head near me (and no, my 3 nights in County jail are not in this equation) and I find myself wondering 'how come' and also 'why'?. I have many things to give and provide to the table. Where love is concerned I am a waiter with a silver platter and a towlette draped over my arm, bringing juice glasses flowing with palate cleansers and light sparkling wines to a bounty of women but they are all ignoring me, choosing instead to tear into their pork loins and potatoes with a carnivorous and animal-like oblivion. Hey Ladies! Don't forget who is here to serve you! Like you've never gotten served before!!!

Rainy Monday!

Dear beauteous and well-groomed blog-reading audiences, hello! It is a Monday morning and I am typing this lines to you surreptitiously from my perch at the day job where again I am assaulted by rivers of banal conversation (sample, just overheard: "Oh my God, this dry erase pen really rocks!") and rivers of fragrances, most of the putrid variety as factotums and corporate slaves microwave their coffee or their Jimmy Dean Breakfast Bowls and gobble their bananas ceaselessly, like so many garden monkeys. Well, as I have said to you about one-million and one-half times, I am an artist and I should not have to work so moments like this really activate a sort of office-rage in me. But we don't need to go there because you know where I stand on that issue and further, how it makes me feel.

Let me instead bring in a new modality of conversation and that regards the weather: rain. Buckets and sheets of gooey rain came a'rainin' down this morning early-like. I awoke in the autumn dawn, face down on the sofa, dvd still frozen on that triumphant frame at the end of "the mirror has two faces" where that lady runs out into the street to tell that man not to go. (side note: what can I say, I am an artist and I won't prejudge what I take into my body artistically speaking but I can hear you sneering from here about that movie. Well, I love it. So there). My bigger point - and I do have one - is that the rain awoke me.

Is there anything more like angels crying on your shoulder than rain-drops? It's one of those questions that can't be answered.

Delectable Monday: A Promise

Today Monday is playful with me, rubbing me under my chin like I am a good servant but also giving me hints of goodness, like the promise of perfection akin to a freshly-purchased chewy granola bar. This is how good it feels to be here in this planet on the present day. I am announcing this to you!!!

My 'day off' last week afforded me a rare perspective and allowed me to look inside my own head and heart, an introspection of epic and sonic proportion. A deep and penetrating inventory, not dissimilar to a body probe or colonoscopy, where it hurts yes, but afterwards you have discovered beautiful things about your self, your body, your world. I came to realize - after all those waffles - that there are certain things I enjoy about being alive. Waffles are one of them. Myself is the other. There is no enriching gift to yourself like your own self. Go on and look in the mirror and then begin to create art. It's the only way!

See You Next Tuesday!

Waffles on Wednesday: The Arrival!

Good sweet morning to you my friends! I have recently arisen. Today, as you most likely are not aware, I have the day off from work. This is a cost saving measure wherein once a week people whom are classified as 'support staff', such as me your humble blog creator and reporter-on-all-things-Taffy, is - are given one day per month to go off and enjoy themselves and boost morale. This is an unpaid day and has the further indignity of counting as a vacation day so HR is bleeding me of vacation while at the same time gift-wrapping it and setting it delicately upon my lap. Put another way: I am enjoying myself today!!!

I woke up and decided - after the furious glory of yesterday's post might give indication of - that perhaps I might side-step the usual breakfast intake (microwave burrito) and explore some of the other bounty that Mother Nature has plopped from her womb onto the planet: which is to say I had waffles!! So freaking good!!! I dove into a plate of them, literally. My face and fingers right now are smeared and dripping with maple sauce but I don't mind. How could one mind really especially when they had put something flacky and delicate into their body, listening to the beautiful rumbles and gurgles as it made its way through canals and corridors?

Also, it's easy to make. It breaks down like this - first you open the carton of microwave waffles, then you put it in the microwave, when it comes out you slather it with their homestyle maple syrup and a hunk of it's-really-not-butter. let it melt for a second and then dive your face into it! Literally! How on earth can the rest of my Wednesday measure up? Anyone? Anyone?

Burritos Were His Muse: Tuesday!

I woke up this morning, like I do most mornings. Swimming in the forefront of my consciousness was the thought of a burrito, slathered with tapatilo sauce and squirting out cheese like so many gooey rainbits. Long-time readers of this blog are well aquainted with the notion that a burrito is among my favorite group of foods, if not the favorite group. I don't believe that I can name a day - even when i was in county lock-up last month - where a burrito did not enter me. And that's a fact.

I keep hearing about this slow, local food movement but I don't know of anything slower or more local than buying a carton of microwave burritos at the plaid pantry down on the corner. I mean, think about it: I am contributing to the local economy and paying for the salaries of the burrito-makers, the burrito-packagers, and the man who drove the truck to bring them to my mouth. That's a lot of people I'm paying for!!

Monday: Wasp-Stinging Rear-ward!

Yes my friends, a thousand times yes. Today the sun was a glistening orb in the guzzling sky and rain clouds threatened me but moved on as if to say "not today good sir! you carry on and continue creating songcraft and light and spread it across the world like so much savory nut butter". Sweet reprieves are wonderful things to receive: they provide you with the information that whatever you did or are doing is correct and appropriate. My point, as behooves the title of this post, is that I feel like i've been stung on the backside by a hive of angry wasps and I am now running away from them and toward the arms of Destiny.

To be more specific: things have quieted for ol' Taffy since "Dr" Albert Tubman took leave of me. I learned a lot from our interlude certainly. I think I've addressed some of those items in previous posts so I won't start testing your patients by doing it again. Here is a laundry list things that have rained out of the sky on me since he departed: furniture is back, check. able to buy groceries again, check. job is boring as usual bursting with people who think they know all about life and living since they can afford a mortgage or an electric car but who don't appreciate the simplicities of life like apples or buckets of fried chicken, check. a gorgeous honey-haired creature interning at the reception desk, check. Taffy mothereffing McKittrick about to unleash a malestrom of songs and bewitching tunes on top of your face like a turkey pot pie slathered with country-gravy, check!!!!

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