Just an average Monday

Not a lot to say about today. Pretty much just your standard-issue Monday, does exactly what it says on the tin, that sort of thing.

I did receive an invite to my fifteenth high school reunion, being held next month, but I don’t think I’m going to go. It’s not free, for one thing — the cocktails/dinner main event is $60 per person — and I haven’t kept in touch with any of the people I went to school with. I regret that, maybe a little, especially with the circle of friends I had senior year, but fifteen years is a long time. We hung out at lunch, or in shared classes, but I’m not sure we were ever what you’d call close. And there’s no guarantee that they, or anybody I know or want to see is going to be there. I didn’t go to my ten-year reunion in 2005, and I can’t say I really regretted that.

Gardyloo!

The word for today on my Forgotten English desk calendar is “gardyloo,” which apparently was “a common cry in former days of the dwellers in the high flats of Edinburgh, who were in the habit of throwing urine, slops, &c. out of the window; from the French gare l’eau, beware of the water.”

So I guess, if nothing else, we should be thankful we don’t live in the former days of Edinburgh.

I spent today mostly working on the Sunday crossword (which I haven’t completed) and watching a few episodes of Eureka and Breaking Bad. I also joined my writing group for our regular Sunday free-writing exercise in Huntington. The group is usually more of an idea factory for me than anything, but this week I managed to pull together something approaching a narrative. We had multiple prompts to get us started, but it mostly came down to a shared sentence, the first one in the paragraphs below:

When the clown lost his head, Sandra knew that the party was over. The piñata lay smashed against the ground, foil-wrapped candies spilling everywhere, to be trampled underfoot, the afternoon’s lunch of spaghetti and marinara still caked to the wall opposite, in a pattern all too reminiscent of the guts and brains that had so thoroughly failed to explode out from the faulty robot’s bursting head. Sandra wasn’t even sure where all of the children had run off to, although she was sure it was just to one of the other playrooms, to create additional destruction, to revisit one of the other full-service party droids that had somehow managed to escape their original warpath.

The party was an unmitigated disaster. She’d be lucky if MechaPlay, Incorporated, didn’t sue for damages; she could absolutely kiss her initial deposit goodbye. She only hoped her son had enjoyed himself. Kyle’s tenth birthday had probably just cost them his entire college fund.

She stared down at what was left of the clown, marveled again at the detailed realism of its features. If she didn’t know better, if she couldn’t now see the mess of wires erupting from its neck, she’d have sworn that it was an actual zombie. Certainly, when it had shambled into the room, with its blood-spattered pasty white skin and angry grunts, Sandra had been taken aback, suffered a moment of genuine fear. She knew that it was based on one of the video games Kyle and his friends liked to play — Bozo Ghoul or Deadly Chuckles or something like that — but it was still quite a shock to see it in the flesh, so to speak. She’d rehearsed the line that would cause the droid’s head to explode, had been assured by helpful techs that it would seem real, if perfectly harmless.

But, like so much else that afternoon, it had not gone according to plan.

It’s a goofy idea, and I don’t know if it’s a story that has any legs to it, but I had fun writing it. And it was sort of nice to have something to read, however, short, at the end of our forty minutes than just an overview of the story idea I’d come up with.

You just can’t go wrong with malfunctioning zombie robot clowns.

Song of the day

Today, “Rainbows in the Dark” by Tilly and the Wall. How can you not like a song that uses tap dancing as a percussion instrument?

So my sister went kissing a maple-skinned boy
Finally held up her fists, said, “I’m done being coy!”
And the neighborhood, bored, started buzzing with joy
We finally had front-page news

The sword of self-knowledge

“Sever the ignorant doubt in your heart with the sword of self-knowledge.”

That’s what my fortune cookie said this evening, anyway. A quick search suggests it’s from the Bhagavad Gita, which seems an odd and unexpected source of fortune-cookie wisdom, but it is a nice sentiment nevertheless.

It ties in a little weirdly with a movie I watched this evening, the Korean film Mother, where the title character twice suggests acupuncture to “loosen the knots in your heart and clear all the horrible memories from your mind.” It was a weirder movie overall than I expected…though, having seen Joon-ho Bong’s previous film, The Host, maybe I should have expected that. They’re very different movies — Mother has no giant monsters crawling from the Seoul River and attacking people, for instance — but they’re both a little off-kilter. It’s an interesting movie, about the lengths a mother will go to prove her son’s innocence, but it was ultimately a lot stranger than I bargained for.

Other than that, the day was spent not doing too much. We had a redo of last Saturday‘s attempt to get the car inspected. This morning, my father and I encountered no strange traffic, no police cars blocking roads, nobody else at the garage to get the last of the inspection stickers. It went off without a hitch.

I can’t say the same for my attempt to buy eyeglasses this afternoon. Two weeks ago, I went with my mother to a discount frames warehouse her boss had recommended, and I made an appointment with their optometrist. The appointment itself went well, and my prescription hasn’t really changed. It hasn’t changed at all in the right eye in over a decade, which is where I have the astigmatism. (The left eye changes, mostly, just as it tries to compensate.) The optometrist asked me how long I’ve been wearing glasses, and she wasn’t at all surprised when I told her it’s been since I was about two or three. She said that, usually, when she sees an astigmatism like mine, the person with it has a lazy eye. Which, if my mother hadn’t thought to take me to the eye doctor when I was young — mostly because I was her first child and she worried, not because I had any symptoms — is something I’d probably have.

Something I definitely don’t have — and check out that seamless segue there — are new eyeglasses. Unfortunately, my prescription is beyond their capabilities, too thick or too high or too something to be done by them. So unfortunately I’ll need to have it filled elsewhere. I don’t desperately need new glasses, so I’m going to hold off until I can find somewhere with relatively low prices. The last time I bought new frames was a year or two ago, and both of them snapped in less than a year. Then one of the replacement pairs snapped. So I’m looking to find something that’s a cross between decent quality and decent price.

I’ll just have to keep my eyes open, no pun intended.

I read a little more slush for Kaleidotrope, though stories keep coming in. I was really glad to re-open to submissions in January, but I’m just as happy to be closing to them again tomorrow. I’ll re-open again in January of 2011, and I think I’ll keep the same reading period, more or less, going forward.

And I’ve been using the kneeling chair a little more. The padding on this one isn’t all that great — I guess you get what you pay for — so it’s a little unforgiving on my shins. I don’t know that my back feels any better for it overall, but sitting in it does seem to cause less discomfort than sitting in a regular chair. At least in my lower back. My shins, as I said, are kind of taking a beating.

And that’s it, really, for Saturday.