And so another party came and went... well?

Yeah a good party occurred here at the Carolina apartments. Pictures where taken, costumes where displayed and drinks where consumed. Here is some good advice: if the party is at your place, stay sober enough to drive every last person there home. Safety first folks.
I figured out how to pick the lock on the roof finally. It is so pleasing to know that whenever I want I can lay around on the roof of my building. Hell I can even camp up there! Oooh the ideas. I was lucky to have company for my first visit to the rooftop by Lina (who I know from work), Irina (who is Lina's older sister), and Alona (who is friendly [actually they are all friendly]). I don't know any of them very well but it was nice to be in a new place with people I don't know well. I'd do it again without a doubt. So later that evening we skipped a little more of the party and went to visit the roof above Malaprops Bookstore. That one blew mine away. It was actually furnished. No kidding, tables, chairs, festive lights, plants the full montey. This sounds lame but I'm genuinely impressed. Perhaps I was dazzled by the brilliance of the evening.
Juan came to the party for a little while dressed like Jonny Depp from Once Upon a Time in Mexico, eyes removed naturally. His costume can be seen in my flicker account. So can a few other ones actually. Juan deserves particular attention though because of how convincing he was.

Monroe the cat hates buttons of all varieties. I never thought i'd be in the presence of something so small and saturated in contempt for buttons. He attacks them on the couch and chair, even the coats are not beyond his little kitten claws.

Learning is fun.

That is a picture of the window view near table four at my Inn.

Here's a game! Find the Cop with the short shorts and a stash! It is fun and you have 20 seconds starting now, go!

Congratulations to me for going to a party and not getting mutilated or mauled. Laura who I know from work invited my to her house for a costumed throwdown. There was drinking and dancing and me eating people's heads. Altogether a pleasant affair. For some reason three people showed up dressed as Reno Cops, perhaps it was prearranged. My memories of that night are not really... vivid. There was some tacos, PJ, and fooseball too. pictures where taken and posted here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/fellowsfog/ checkit.
Upon arriving back to the apartment I met a kitten. It is male, grey, and small of course. He is named M-something, I can't really remember. Right now He's sliding around on my floor. Perhaps this is the one cat in the world that has not been gifted with the balance normally associated with felines. That would be great! M-something-er-other is the clumsiest cat I know. The whole place is a slip and slide. Also, he attacks anything larger than him and eats dust.
My hand is doing pretty well. I am typing with it right now. It's scar tissue is like a knot in my hand. When I do my exercises it's tendons move in a solid mass rather than individual parts. The wrist only has about 30 degrees of movement right now. That is better than the 25 degrees last week but nowhere near what it used to be. I guess that means fencing is out of the question from now on, which disappoints me a lot. Really I didn't do that much anyway so get over it Peter.
Sharp. little. teeth. The fur-ball is entirely to cool to not play with so I'm gonna go.

Hello. I'm Peter's new splint. The name's Scrappy McSplap and I just met him today. He was polite and everything but he's obviously up to something. Anyway, sure is a mess he made of himself. Downright stupid. Apparently it was some kind of freak floor-swimming accedent that did his right hand in. It's a tough issue for me. I feel bad for the hand but if it wasn't for the cut I'd still be a flat sheet of heatoplasti. I'll be assisting him for the next three weeks. You know, keepin it real and at a twenty degree angle. We scanned the damage a while ago which is what that awful picture up there is. Peter was pleased to see the scar but complained later saying it looked a bit "Harry Potter". I don't know what that means though because I'm just a freakin plastic and velcrow cast. Something about it being zigzag shaped. He is falling asleep now but I'll stay up a little longer and listem to the Alan Parsons Project or something. Maybe start a jazz band.

Clearly this is the best movie ever made. I wonder what it's called? I don't even know where to start looking. Is that a bat under the guy that looks like a filthy jesus? Lets all ponder this image for a while. May it haunt us forever. You saw it and you can never un-see it. Mwahahaha!

In completely unrelated news, my splint comes off on the 21st.

So, this is a picture of me. Digitally presented to you via zipping electrons and bits of color. It isn't a name but perhaps it could be. Do you see the scar on my cheek? Do you see my frizzy uncempt hair? How about my sloppy shaving job? This describes me in a almost purely visual way and it has name-like qualities.

Names are interesting things. We give them to everything observable; babies, tacos, this photo, mice, hurricanes, ducks and so on. I understand that this is how we figured out how to relate to each other. We started using these abstractions. The advent of titles must have been quite a thought really. I consider myself pretty original and the idea of inventing names is far beyond understanding. Almost like trying to create a new primary color or realizing your sapient. Inconceivable!

So here I am musing away.

Thinking about names and origin at 1:30am on a Monday. Monday, the moon's day that was apparently really important to some long gone Anglo-Saxon somewhere. Another name.

I have a name. Hell I've three: Peter Michael Lorenz. This is in all likelihood a name that many people have owned before I was even fetal. Peter is the first among my names and of it I'm proudest. It meant Πετρος originally, though now it has changed. In-fact there is little doubt that the name meant something different but those days are too distant and unrecorded. Πετρος is "Petros" translated from the Aramaic title "Cephas", meaning "stone".
It was this name that Jesus once gave his most prominent apostle Simon. Simon meant "listener" and he must have done that well. It seems that Simon, who was Saint Peter, became the first pope and the "rock upon which Gods church was built". Some people think he is some kind of bouncer in Heaven now. That's a lot to live up to.
Peter the great was a Czar in Russia a while ago. He was a very excellent stone. The man made a living and his fame by being surly and brawling with Sweden.
Then there was J. M. Barrie's play about the exploits of Peter Pan. He could fly around whenever he was happy without the use of intoxicants. Unless you count fairy dust which I don't. The guy refused to age and hung out with adolescent miscreants. He was never a saint nor did he fight any Swedish dudes. Unless some of the pirates were vikings.
מִיכָאֵל is my middle name. It used to be Miyka'el which inquired "who is like God?". Now it's Michael. This is one of those cool old biblical names. One of the seven archangels in Hebrew tradition and the only one identified as an archangel in the Bible. In the Book of Revelation in the New Testament he is portrayed as the leader of heaven's armies. I guess that means two of my names are worn by holy bouncers depending on faith. Some Protestants think Michael as the sole archangel, as the only one explicitly mentioned as such in the Bible. However, in general, Protestant interest in angelic beings has been low. In Islam Michael is the Archangel of the Weather. All that is speculation though. This is factual: another Czar was had this title. So did nine Byzantine emperors. Oh and Michael Jordan, who some say, could also fly.
Lorenz is Father's name. He is a alcoholic and in many ways seems quite helpless. But in other ways he is a Musketeer who parades around in feathered hats like it's 1568. That man is the only fellow I know who has a scar related to warhammer fighting. Once my father made a miniature diorama called "Dear, the Zulus have trodden on our pick-a-nick". He used to fence and act which in no way explains these bittersweet memories. Another Lorenz coined the term "butterfly effect". And yet another was Saint Laurence, the 3rd-century deacon and martyr from Rome. According to tradition he was roasted alive on a gridiron because, when ordered to hand over the church's treasures, he presented the sick and poor.
The name Lorenz actually comes from the Roman "Laurentius", which meant "of Laurentum". Laurentum was a city in ancient Italy, its name probably deriving from Latin laurus "laurel". This one seems to have always been a last name.

So all that is me apparently. Me trying to find similarities between the properties of being myself and abstracts assigned to me before I saw day light.

"It is said that no Thai meal is complete without serving soup. Thai Delight's™ delightfully creamy Tom Kha Soup is rich in it's distinctive flavors of Coconut Milk, and Galanga(KHA). One of Thailand's most popular soups, Tom Kha is available for breakfast, lunch or dinner from Bangkok's famous street food vendors, making it a modern national treasure. Serve with a side bowl of Thai Delight™ Pure Jasmine Rice. We think You'll agree!"
This soup was a dollar. Apparently you are supposed to put chicken in it, sliced up really thin. I didn't because I choose not to read instructions on soup cans. It was good enough.

The first post-op was today. A very large waist of time too. Dr. Thomson asked my if I could move my fingers and I did so. Wiggle wiggle. Then he told me to leave the splint on and come back on the 21st. "Then we may take it off if all has gone well." I suspect the main reason for me showing up today was so they could present me with a bill. I have a statement here that clames I owe $8396.00 for services rendered. That offically makes my right hand the most expensive thing I've ever purchased. Later on tonight I've no doubt it will keep me up a extra hour.
When I got back to the apartment I redressed the splint with newer clean wrappings just because I felt like something first aidy need to occure.
This wouldn't bother me much right now if I knew what my hand looked like! Man the last time I saw my palm was weeks ago. Maybe some nifty scar will come out of all this tomfoolery.

Tonight I'll paint some more after a nap.

Goodie Goodie
More images at flickr. Including Shleeve and Juan,
food inspectors.

I've been painting a lot. The left hand has really stepped up to the plate and knocked a few out of the park. Good thing too. If I couldn't paint then what the hell would I do all day? These are some little scans from the painting I worked on last night.

Midnight Express just finished over here. That movie left me feeling pretty beat up. Like I was in a dryer rolling around for two hours. Or maybe riding a horses really fast. That kind of soreness. You'd think that it would just be a mental kind of exhaustion but you'd be wrong. The symptoms of the latest cinematic beating are evident I'm my bloodshot eyes and tired lungs. Perhaps if I ate something other that shepherd's pie and popcorn I'd feel a little different. Maybe not. I blame the movie. It was good but a re-watch is unlikely. One time deal.

Oh I ate some lucky charms today too. Maybe that is what has me all messed up.

This is a close-up from a most excellent book, "Home Geography and Type Studies" by the right and proper Alexis Everett Frye. Published in 1911 by Ginn and Co. My mother somehow acquired a whole box full of these aged codexes. "A History of the American People", "Arithmetical Problem vol. 1-4", "Heroes and Heroines", "Legends of Norseland", "Stepping Stones of Literature" and a whole slew of rhetoric for kids supplements. They all have the most interesting little block prints and halftone photographs. I stole a handful of them (sorry Mom). In all likelihood the better images will be on my flickr account. Reading these texts really puts things into perspective.

silly things:
"In Japan the streets are lined with toy shops. Men on the street make animals out of rice paste. The girls and boys call out the names as soon as they guess what he is making. They know the monkey, wolf and bear, but do not know the sheep."

serious things:
"All the people wish to have good schools. All wish to have good roads. They need police to keep order in the city. They need firemen to protect their homes from fire. The people also need judges. There must be jails or prisons for men who commit crimes.
Cities make homes for the very poor people and take care of them. They look after the blind and the deaf and dumb. There are hospitals for the sick and wounded. People who are too poor to pay can receive just as good care as the rich.
We must not forget that the city makes parks where we can go to play games and breath fresh air.
It takes a great deal of money to pay for a city. People who vote pay taxes to raise the money for paying such bills. A person who owns very little pays a small tax. A person who owns more pays a larger tax. This is Fair."

it is fair. hmmm... what did they know in 1911 anyway?

Hail to the, great Castilian Don!
Whose valor like bright silver shone!
Whose name struck terror! and whose sword
spread death among the Moorish horde!
Hail, mighty Cid! Whose bold intent
made thee in life pre-eminent,
and (as my numbers now recount)
even in death still paramount!

The strangest victory ever read
The Cid achieved when he was dead-
For, in a city hard beset,
Being sick to death, but living yet,
Unto a friend he gave his last
Commands; and when his life had passed
The Spanish followers of the Cid,
Even as he had ordered, did.

Out of his bed they took his corpse;
They set it upright on his horse;
They fastened well the saddle, where
It sat with stern and martial air;
About his sword they closed his hand;
His banner, by the breezes fanned,
They raised aloft; and by his side
Five hundred living knights did ride.

And when, from out the city gate,
upon his horse, erect and straight,
With trumpet blast and rolling drum,
The Cid, embalmed in death did come,
At sight of him, in armor dressed,
the Moors in all directions fled,
Unwitting that the Cid was dead.

With panting breath and rolling eyes
They raised to heaven frenzied cries
Of 'Allah! Allah! all is vain!
The Cid is on us once again!'
And falling back on every side,
Some gazing on him open-eyed,
While some their sight in terror hid,
'The Cid!' they cried, 'the Cid! the Cid!'

So, cold and stiff and void of breath,
Triumphant on his day of death,
With clang of hoofs and clash of steel,
The Cid was carried to Castille,
And close beside an altar there
They set him on a ivory chair,
Where pilgrims flocked to see his face
For long years staring into space.

...
from "Heroes and Heroines" by E & H Farjeon

His name is astonishing. It is a compound of two different titles and cultures. Rodrigo Díaz, the mercenary-general of Bivar, is one of the few Christian heroes to be known by a Muslim title. Al-sidi is from the arabic word "sayyid" which means sir and lord. El Campeador was a title from Spanish Christian admirers. It is similar to "champion" but greater. A campeador was a man who had fought and beaten the select fighting-man of the opposite side in the presence of the two armies. "El Cid Campeador". The Lord Champion.

The surgery may have gone well. I'm not sure. Can't remember it.

chesck the pirate jokes at McSweeney's.

Q: What's a pirate's favorite alliance-creating diplomatic agreement from the Second World War?
A: The TripARRRtite Pact.

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2000/06/14pirates.html

It seems I'm capable with my left hand. At least as far as painting is concerned. I am publishing a couple images of my recent paintings to good'ole bloggr.com. They are pretty primary (get it?). One is about how much my neighbors hate my friends and I being on their porch. Pretty good stuff. Not really done yet though, naturally. The other is a blotter tree.

Surgery tomarrow @10am. nervous.

tra la la la la... la la la la.
the sun will come up again.