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Enjoy with happy mind.

Authored by David & Anna

I would like to note that there were two other pieces of footage which I lost due to my inexperience in operating my telephone. One was a really nice moment before things had gotten underway; it had the geometric visuals on the screen & some spare, beautiful music, presumably from Jona's own laptop. The other was a classic snippet, excerpted from Willow's heartwarming toast. My apologies.

     Most of you didn't know my friend Malta, but those that did were part of a very fortunate number.  Miriam emailed me on the 22nd to say that "Malta passed away early on the morning of July 4th of liver/gallbladder failure."

     Miriam adopted him from the porch next door, in Ashville.  His people didn't know which side their bread was buttered on.  She named him after a funny, non-alchoholic, Mexican malt-flavored soda that she and I used to buy at Stop & Shop on our way home from the video store, our arms laden with Classic Trek and documentaries.

     Malta Goya was the nicest dog I have ever known.  He was sweet, he was smart, he smelled good almost all of the time, he was gentle, he didn't drool, he was generous, and he made a funny face when he wasn't sure what was going on.

     I never expected that he would die before I saw him again.  He was 56 in "dog years," by Miriam's closest estimate, but he was puppyish in the best possible way.  We didn't spend much time together the last few weeks he was in Portland, and I really regret that.

     Exactly a week after Malta died, River's cat Crazy was killed by a terrible asthma attack.  She, also, had blessed my house with her presence in recent months, but I didn't know her for as long as I had known Malta.

     Malta and she were good friends.  They weren't sure about eachother at first, and even had a couple of "encounters," one of which left Crazy quite slobbered upon.  But, in the tradition of Epich Poetry, it seems that these encounters founded the formation of their friendship.  They came to greet eachother with affection, and to show echother a rare, deep trust.

     I will miss them both very much.

     Looking at it another way,



the swelling does give me sort of a cute, pouty look, don't you think?

     It's not every day that a person can confidently and without hyperbole use the expression "bane of my existence."

     I guess I'm lucky that way.

     I'll only post the one picture of that.  Sometimes I wake up to a searing pain, and find that in the carelessness of sleep, I have torn asunder the tenuous bond formed where my lip had healed to a tooth.
     Right now it hurts to drink water and I'm very hungry.  One of the hardest parts is not being able to smile at people.  Not in a natural, spontaneous way, anyhow.  I can force a grimace, but it takes preparation and comes out looking weird and mentally ill.

And every Wednesday, upon venturing outside, I would see that someone had pushed the barrel back up against the fence.

This wasn't so surprising. My housemates all have "regular" jobs, whereas I keep what you might call "writers' hours," and it wouldn't take them so far out of their way to take care of the can on their way to the bus stop.

This is the sight that greets me every tuesday night.

Part of the "deal," or "value package," that I offer my tenants is that I take out the garbage and recycling. Sometimes I don't get around to doing this until late at night, and almost without fail the garbage can is at the curb when I go out to put it there.

For many months I thought that one of the housemates must be taking it upon him- or herself, just as a favor to me, or maybe thinking that it wouldn't get done if they didn't do it.

But, eventually, it happened when everyone else was away on holiday.

I would like to preface my last entry with a few words about Ultimate Blogger. But it's too late for a preface.

I hadn't read the entries from the Final 3, the Backstage Breakdown Challenge, and was not intentionally pastiching the Alliance business. I feel compelled to say so mostly because I was so impressed with the depth and gravity of the entries, as well as that shown by the Contestants themselves.

I flatter myself to think that I am an "A," but I must have at least a few cracks in my patina, judging by the indignant judgment I feel meet to pass on the brilliant evil strategists and their brilliant evil stratagem. I love the brilliant evil stratagem. I hate the brilliant evil stratagem. I am filled with frustration.

Now, I trust that you are well out of the mood for my short filim, here is the culmination of yesterday's entry: The Filim.

The call went out at 3:23 p.m., and I was there, ready to answer it:

Hey Dudes, We need some extras for a scene in the ... It's going to be LATE tonight. Like 11:30pm. Email us if you can make it and we'll send you more details.

HA! 11:30 p.m. is NOTHING to me. I will be there. I MUST be there.

At 3:26 p.m. I hit send, and my brief but compelling email sails swiftly towards its target:

Subject: I HAVE DREAMED OF THIS DAY!!! Date: HRH 31 May, 2005 3:26:54 PM PDT

Call me (503) 555-1212.
I have costumes and may shave my head/body if necessary.

All I can do is wait.

I wait.

DAMNIT! I can't take this waiting! Why have they not CONTACTED me!?
I must act.

By 3:37 p.m. I have begun to plan my assault, my strategy seems a flawless one.

At 5:50 p.m., my execution of this strategy flowers, but I comprehend the artistic temperament, and know that I must not be hasty.

7:32 p.m.: I aim, and fire. And at 7:44 my house of cards receives its coat of shellaq: A message!
A message left with my answering service begging — PLEADING! — that I bestow my rare and fragile gift upon the People, just once more: No, no! Get up off of the ground! There is no need...

Well, I am no miser! I know that you, my wonderful People, are wondering, and I will share with you a small part of my magic.

Please enjoy! (And don't say I never give you nothing, see!?)

(Yes, glorious fruition.)

Fin.

BEFORE Lasic brand lasic eye surgery, Emily was a "square."

But NOW Emily is a "cool dude," thanks to Lasic brand lasic eye surgery!

Reading.

Eating.

Talking to the server about the funny dude who laughed for so long about his bobo.