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plugs of ancient paint
Thursday, August 22 2002
Using a drill-mounted circle-sander, I did the final round of sanding on the holes I've been patching in the bathroom ceiling. I then went on a hunt throughout the basement for a bucket of paint matching the cool white I needed. I found many buckets and paints of all colors, but nothing seemed quite right. Some of the older paint buckets had completely dried out, leaving behind detached concave plugs of solid paint. These plugs were exceptionally smooth, dense, radially symmetrical, and seemingly unbreakable. I tried to think of applications for them, but I couldn't think of any. I suppose I could have just tasted it, something some caveman didn't regret doing after his grape juice went bad back in the Pleistocene.
In the evening, various people came over again to watch women's basketball. In their game against the Washington Mystics, things started out nicely for the New York Liberty. Then for some reason they managed to squander their early gains. Later, the same was true of the Utah Jazz as they played the Los Angeles Sparks. I've noticed that watching my team lose seems to undo all the psychological goodness of having watched my team win. I was equally happy and wasted less time back before I had an interest in the WNBA. But I don't think there's any going back now.
Yesterday I'd revisited my youth by buying a six pack of Natural Ice ("Natty Ice"), and tonight Gretchen served these as the principle liquid refreshment (to accompany quartered Coney Island knishim). What with my microwave antenna research and such, of late I've found myself cutting holes in cans. Tonight I did so for a purely disposable-artistic purpose, fabricating an artificial bullet hole through one of my Natty Ice cans. With the matching star-tears on either side of the can, it looked like a frozen three-dimensional model of a bullet passing through a jar.
Some of my desktop clutter, including the aforementioned can of Natty Ice,
my Liberty pen holder, a stack of 3.5 inch floppy disks, an EPROM,
and a Marge Simpson candy that Gretchen got me for my birthday.
[REDACTED]
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