Skip to content

Category: Personal

The Stacks of Beer

The Stacks of Beer, originally uploaded by NiteMayr.

Yeah, this is what I see on my way into work every day, the stacks, not the clouds. It’s nice and sunny outside right now, also very green.

I was worried that I would be giving up all the green when I came down here to the City; I’m no nature lover, but I do like the trees and grass the come with nature. London has proven to be very green, excessively so. But like Kubla Khan, I find wisdom in excess and think that the tree lined streets are awesome and I go out of my way to drive down the back streets to stay among said streets.

Did you dream about me?

Last night I dreamed about old friends and strange pets; I wonder if anyone else had such odd dreams last night?

  1. I was attending a physics class; there were about 10 people in the class that I would consider close or fairly close confidants.  Some old crushes were there too.  The teacher was kind of ineffectual but was intent on teaching us how fusion worked and why it was important.   I got lost in the math and was unable to follow the actual class.  The class was disrupted by our constant celebration of seeing each other after long absences.  I followed my friends out of the class; but went back and apologized to the teacher (who was kind of a jerk anyway).
  2. After leaving the school building I met a woman who I think I used to know, but her name escapes me.  She was standing in one of the school fields and sort of crying and looking out of sorts.  She explained that she had given up her son for adoption and that she missed him terribly.  She had her boy when she was a teenager and had given him up at birth.  I told her that she made a choice out of love and that I admired her for being strong enough to keep on going.  I hugged her and told her how much I admired her and that I wished her all the best.
  3. Then I shifted to a park where there were some kids playing (my daughter and nephews were there) my parents drove up in their van and the kids piled in.  I sort of floated alongside the van and we drove on down a nearby hill to a disused rail terminal.  I took photographs of the old steam trains held there juxtaposed with toy rail employees.   (NOTE:  Now I want to take pictures of iconic places with toy versions of typical employees or people who would utilize such places) juxtaposed with them)
  4. It was at this point my nephews introduced me to to their new puppy, a black lab.  I forget it’s name.  I then showed them my new cat, a long-clawed sable back mini-panther.  I forget what I called it too.  I also (apparently) had a pet dwarf (fantasy style, like in WoW) calle U-Thor (oo – thor).  I had to keep the dwarf and mini-panther from killing random people as we walked from the rail terminal along a sandy beach.
  5. I took the mini-panther back to the school where I let it loose to roam the halls.  It didn’t do any harm there, as it seemed to love attention.

What was I dreaming about?  I have no idea!  I didn’t play world of warcraft or any other video games last night, I wasn’t reminiscing with anyone.  Maybe I miss some people?

What did you dream about last night?

I was hacked!

I was hacked and for a couple days, without my knowledge was used for phishing. I don’t have logs that go far enough back to show when it happened beyond on the 15th and for the most part I don’t care when it happened. I just got rid of the files as fast as possible and wiped out the directories.

I asked my provider to go ahead and pass along any information about the breach to paypal who asked for logs and so on.

Maybe I should have kept the files?

Hopefully no one was taken in by the scammers.

Jen iz a Zombie

Jen iz a Zombie, originally uploaded by NiteMayr.

She loves the flesh of the arm!

This was from our trip to Manitoulin Island, at the shore of Ice Lake.

It’s the weekend, we’re getting ready to face a return to normalcy for us, me at a day-to-day job and pulling down a paycheck. The main difference being that I am going to be a contractor, any advice for me guys?

This is of concern to me and to you

Given the length of this one I am going to bury this under a “read more” link

Some of you are familiar with my photography habit and some of you are not, but this kind of blind “anti-terrorism” should seethe anyone.

A short anecdote”

I spent about 18 months terrorizing Eugene with my camera, sometimes with Jen sometimes with Elizabeth sometimes with both but never alone. I figured that no one would hassle a family guy. I was never hassled. Once an overweight woman put an end to my photography of a fun kickball game by making the participants stop when she saw me taking photos. Fair enough, she got her photograph on the web and I called attention t her “photo-blocking”

But I’ve never been stopped by someone in any kind of official capacity (even when I took photos of a crash scene).

Chicken Soup From Scratch

Chicken Soup Mid Render
It’s very satisfying for me to turn the remains of a roasted chicken into soup. It’s like recycling. The Bones are a problem, but some filtering and judicious picking at the soup will remove the majority of the bones. I cook the carcass overnight with some pepper and salt and in the morning I reduce the temperature a little in order to remove what bones I can.

After the bones are gone I add a little more pepper and salt to taste then a touch of fragrant grating cheese (any hard cheese should do) just enough to flavor the soup and no more. I increase the temperature to about 1/3 and let it simmer. I add water periodically to avoid too much reduction and concentration.

Once the Soup is hot and simmering again I add the vegetables; but no potatoes.

About an hour before serving, I add the raw potatoes. The reason for the delay is to avoid the Potatoes picking up too much taste from the soup as the Potatoes will absorb the fat and flavor as it cooks from raw. You can avoid this by pre-boiling the potatoes.

Plated SoupThe soup is made of what I can find around the kitchen:

1 Cooked Chicken Carcass, Breasts removed for another dinner
The fat and drippings from the roasted chicken is also preserved for the soup.
1 Cup of Carrots
1 Cup of Peas
6 small potatoes, peeled.
A couple tablespoons of pepper
1 tablespoon of salt
1-3 tablespoons of Hard Grated “Fragrant” cheese.

Bathgate no More … Wid Ye No send us Back a Letter?

Sometime in the far future that I can’t see now, I’ll head over the big pond with Spawn and Wife in Tow and visit the “old country” and they’ll see the dirt that spawned me; someday.

Here’s an old hit about Great Britain from my VOX Blog:

There are disused lots and fields all over the outskirts of
your home town. Somewhere there is the graveyard of a disused factory
or farm. When you were young, did you go and check it out? Did you
investigate the remains of a former workplace or home?

When I
was a teenager, and visiting Scotland, my friend Stuart and I dissected
the remains of Industrial and postwar Scotland as it appeared around
Bathgate. We dug through old paperwork in a broken farmhouse, climbed
stairs that hadn’t seend feet in 20 years and destroyed (through
misadventure) a wall that had been built before Churchill had walked on
the planet. We had our hands in the guts of living and dead history.
You’d have thought I was going to be an anthropologist or archaeologist
of some stripe the way I immersed myself in the past. Arms deep as it
were.

We squatted in those fields and with our rough tribe of
peers we listened to music and some of us got high and drunk in the
remains of the British Empire. Not the grand houses or castles, but
the forgotten entrails of industrial estates and disused farms.

I
watched kids lose themselves in what may have been the former grounds
of their Grandfather’s employer. They didn’t see the irony of their
idle decay among the decay of their country. They faced a future of
service jobs and had no idea that the only thing that they would ever
produce in Britain again was culture. This was before the REAL
worldwide rise of Brit Pop in the 90s. These guys are Mothers and
Fathers now, last I heard Stuart was a surfer. Still exploring the
reaches of the British Empire.

Now you ask yourself, what does this have to do with Music?

Well,
British Music exists solely as a reflection of the Music that has come
before, all Music in Britain is measured by it’s predecessor. This is
true in the case of “Kasabian” as it is in the case of “The Beatles”.
All British culture is just “how is this better than this other thing
that came before”, which is probably an outgrowth of the fact that the
British isles are filled to the brim with the remains of the past. One
can hardly walk in one direction for more than an hour without
stumbling over some piece of history older than the houses on your
block.

It’s no wonder the kids squat in fields filled with relics, it’s fairly unavoidable.

I
haven’t been home in over a decade, I don’t know if those fields are
gone or developed. I apparently left Scotland for the last time just
before a huge development boom, when the people were still hard and the
CCTV cameras hadn’t overpopulated the towns. So I don’t know how
things are now, maybe they have cleaned up the Past and moved on.

It’s just a story after all.

Inspiration: Where do you Get it?

Well Shut MAh Mouth
Where do you find inspiration?

I find it all over the place, sometimes in the Street. Sometimes at Church.

Sometimes it’s in the book I’m reading.

Sometimes I’m hit with it when I’m just idling at a stop light.

Sometimes, like last night; I’m hit with it by the cruel randomness of the world; I composed a short one-person show about the nature of “God’s Wrath against Natives and the French”

Then there were Tornadoes in West Virginia.

That God guy hates people, I tell ya.

So I was inspired to create the image that accompanies this post by an article on cursing. Which amuses me (cursing, not the image)

While some may think that I am somewhat loose-tongued I think that I restrain myself a great deal more than is necessary. Which I think might say more about the strange thoughts that swirl in my skull and less about the people who (probably rightly) sigh when my mouth opens and I have “that look in my eye.”

In another life I am a Comic, A Priest, A Poet, A Writer and possibly a Prophet.

Here I am only a Prophet.

I predict Rain.

No Contracters please, we're nebbish

If you don’t get the reference in the title you might not be a nerd. Good for you!

I’m hitting CRLF a bit more in between paragraphs and thoughts because I can’t stand what scribefire does with the line spacing. It’s annoying to me and I should resolve it instead of working around it. Oh Well.

So it’s 3:56 PM and the Contractors that were supposed to show up and fix the floors have yet to show. Oh well. Another month of soggy floors I guess. Did I mention the numerous issues with this place and how much I don’t care about them as I like it so much? Well I care about them so much now that they consume many a conversation like so much peanut butter and chocolate in the Reeses’ Factory.

I’d catalog them all here inline but why? Come on over and see my holey ceilings and dangerous stairs. My non-functional plugs and leaky everything. Never mind the damp smell and dangerous molds that are no doubt hiding in every crack.

If this non-addressing keeps up, maybe I can declare medical disability when I fall prey to the mold!

Yummy!