Local "Trivia": Things that happened since Aug 5, and how they seemed

I learned that my brother had found my blog and told my mom about it, though he never contacted me or commented here -- ominous.

I closed this blog to the public and decided to make a "constellation of blogs" instead/in addition, which are still a work in progress, so that the MFHTDWF and Quantifiable Living, for instance, can have their own foci in their own internet searchable "spaces" -- like evidence of paranoia, but hopeful.

I learned two salient facts that made my previously formed plan to drive my mother and all her stuff and birds down to Florida (since she's moving there for Sept 1) unworkable, which were 1. that my brother's health restrictions meant he could only drive during the day and needed to sleep in a motel bed each night and 2. my mother expected her ten birds to be partially uncovered in the rental car I was going to drive down following the truck -- somewhat frustrating.

I imparted the following facts to my mother and brother: 1. I'd anticipated driving over the night, not day, and so P.C. was working during the day they'd intended to leave, and 2. since I'm allergic to birds, I would not be driving a car with partially uncovered cages -- like a logic-puzzle brain teaser.

While at work in the midst of a 55-hour work week, I got yelled at via telephone by my brother, who hung up on me because I was "changing the plan at the last minute" -- overkill.

I set up a "family meeting" to discuss possible solutions with my mom -- dreadful.

I listened to mom and my brother discuss what various airlines serve for food nowadays on flights, for ten minutes, as I sat waiting to begin the discussion of the plan -- excruciatingly boring.

I suggested the "new" plan, which took all restrictions into consideration (that mom and brother drive the bird car down at their own pace during the day; that P.C. and I leave with the truck late at night and arrive at the same time or before they would in Florida) -- the only reasonable option.

I got yelled at -- abusive.

I got yelled at a lot more -- abusive.

I refused to discuss in detail what allergy medications I would take that could theoretically mitigate my bird allergy, which I'd already stated I'd be doing in any case, repeatedly -- futile.

I refused to point out that no one else's restrictions were a point of argument, because health concerns were not up for debate -- futile.

I got yelled at -- abusive.

I was impugned for "interrupting everyone all the time," told to "shut up," told I was "holding the family hostage," told I needed to "think of the family" and told I had "control issues" (which explained why I was needlessly "changing the plan" three weeks before the move and the first time details had ever been discussed, aka "at the last minute") -- frustrating and abusive.

I got a text of support from P.C. -- comforting.

I got a text from my brother telling me that I "knew" they had already "caved into your demands!" and that I was "interrupting everyone all the time!" and that I was "so rude and disrespectful!" and that I needed to "go back to your Mom/FAMILY and work it out!" -- funny, because the name didn't appear initially and in the context of P.C.'s supportive text, it seemed an obvious satire sent by one of my friends.

I realized my family, when it's working most efficiently and as it's been designed to, is a crap factory, producing nothing but a pile of useless crap to hurl around, and that my refusal to question anyone's health concerns, refusal to name-call (hurl crap), and flexibility in offering another, better plan to supplant the first unworkable one, was a betrayal of Crap Factory ethos -- as a metaphor, illuminating to me, invisible though enraging to them.

My mom decided to re-price a POD, which came out to about the same cost as the truck -- so relieving.

The new plan was formed, for brother and mother to drive the bird car down, and P.C. and I to fly down, help unpack the POD, and drive the car back up to avoid the one-way fee -- also relieving.

My mom asked if I could rent the rental car on my credit card and she'd pay me back, and I agreed -- neutral.

She said to rent it from Tuesday - Tuesday -- agreeable, but flawed, as my original plan had included us leaving late on Tuesday and the new plan necessitated renting the car early Tuesday morning.

I said we'd need to rent it until the following Wednesday at 8 a.m., because driving back up from Florida in two days on Labor Day weekend left no guarantee we'd get it back by Tuesday at 8 a.m., and hourly late fees are heftier than the extra day's fee -- reasonable to me, extortion to her.

My mom "put her foot down" about the car rental, stating if it got back a day late, I would need to pay the extra day -- reasonable and disciplinary to her, ridiculous to me, the one who was supposedly reserving the car I wouldn't be paid back for.

I realized that I'd become invisible as a separate person in the process, and instead had become a body to be used however the Crap Factory dictated -- stressful.

I realized that it had become assumed, somehow, that despite my efforts to help as a favor, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I would be treated as an enemy in this endeavor, and that helping would be treated like it was my job -- illuminating

I quit the fake "job," which included unreasonable demands and was costing me a week's pay even without a rental car charge -- the only reasonable response.

P.C. decided he'd had enough and texted my mom that he was no longer available to help -- relieving in comparison to previous stress levels, but stressful in its own way.

P.C. and I had a sushi dinner -- good, but lacking in comparison to our usual sushi place.

I took the weekend "off" of family, finishing my work week with a 25-hour residential shift on Saturday/Sunday -- relieving, but still tense.

I had to watch the Glee 3D concert movie during that shift -- absurd.

I made sure to recharge my "normal" shields so as to be able to interact with Crap Factory workers "normally" after the previous week, which is the only way to try to trigger normal instead of pathological reactions -- difficult, but familiar.

I showed up at my mom's apartment to help begin loading the POD on Monday morning -- "normal" (shield)

The new plan was for brother and mother to rent the bird car one way, incur the one-way fees, and attempt to move things in from the POD on their own -- dumb, but now necessary.

It turned out she was mad at P.C. for texting because "you should call in those situations" -- baffling, but not worth the effort to understand or argue about.

I was told I "shouldn't have gone whining" to P.C. -- "normal" (Factory talk)

I said I hadn't -- "normal" (shield)

I helped load the POD -- slow and allergy-inducing.

I witnessed my mom standing in front of me in the kitchen say, looking away, "I don't have any help" -- sad.

I replied "I'm right here" -- "normal."

She did not respond -- sad.

At the end of the week, likely still finding me invisible as a volunteer helper, my mom had my brother's wife down to help pack the POD -- inexplicable, since I'd always said I would help but never seemed to count as "another person"

I became obsolete, as only one other person was necessary to help with what was left -- befuddling but in a shoulder-shrug-oh-well-I-guess-I'll-leave kind of way.

My sister-in-law thanked me six or seven times "for coming to help" on the last day with the POD -- weird? As if she were hosting? As if she belonged there and I was a guest? As if it hadn't been the plan for me to help all along? Befuddling, also.

My mom said "I love you" to my sister-in-law as she left to drive the several hours home, and I realized I couldn't remember when we'd last said that to each other -- understandable.

The POD got picked up -- relieving.

I used a groupon to get a massage -- relaxing.

I began to be able to look forward to my 30th birthday with only P.C. and roller coasters -- finally.

PSA: Looks at books

Now here's a site that made me glad I'd reshelved my books to look at least a tiny bit cooler -- some horizontal, some vertical, you see -- but still.



My bookshelves are not poems.

PSA: Goodwillazilla

I created that other website like I said I would. You may also like it on Facebook.

Don't expect too much right off the bat -- tomorrow, for instance -- because I haven't even had a chance to buy another T-shirt yet, let alone paper my immediate area with "Godzilla vs." fliers, let alone paper YOUR immediate area with said fliers or tees. Expect a snowball, or for the religious among you, a mustard-seed start.

But I'm kind of hoping this snowball will go somewhere, considering it's my most coherent "art" project concept to date.

It totally figures it would also be my most absurd one.

Local Trivia: Godzilla soon to be unleashed on unsuspecting public.

Well, my dear 3 CU readers, I've been brainstorming a new series of projects based on a T-shirt I recently found 30 copies of at a local Goodwill.

I didn't buy all 30 copies, for reasons I think are obvious on viewing (what you can't see in these photos is the date September 13, 2009 just under the picture), but I did buy one copy for this express purpose: to add in a Godzilla in the background that would explain the pained and somewhat terrified look on the 2009 fun run tee man.

These are the results, of course.



I'm obviously not a professional draw-er, but neither is the guy who wants to draw a cat for you. And that's kind of the point, anyway: philosophically speaking, how could anyone make this fun run shirt (or any fun run shirt, or any of the other pointless t-shirts that can be found at any Goodwill on the planet) a unique and desirable product? And yet how could such a re-fashioning of an essentially unfashionable shirt also be made fun and borderline ironic, admitting its essential unfashionableness at the same time it's being made wearable?

I think the answer is Godzilla. This seems so obvious to me that I can't quite believe I haven't been seeing Godzilla drawn on Goodwill shirts every time I walk into a store since I was old enough to understand sarcasm.

In combination with this drawing-Godzilla-on-Goodwill shirts project, I've been inspired by these "pointless" street signs, which pretty much sum up my take on art, humor and public service. So I've made a few early prototypes of "Godzilla vs. XXX" fliers to post around, which I hope will really solve the questions of who would win in various fights, such as "Godzilla vs. 4 Batmans" or "Godzilla vs. Adam West in a Batman costume and also that kid who played Robin."

I'm sure I'll keep you posted on the developments in both of these interrelated areas, and if there's any demand at all, I'd be happy to post my flier template here, somehow, so you can survey those in your geographic location on the outcome of Godzilla vs. whoever. My long-term plan is to start a new blog just for fliers and shirts, so as to keep those 3 readers (strangers, presumably) who might find the flier on the street, from being frustrated by the years of diverse personal rambling here.

For you guys, more diverse personal rambling to come.

PSA: I had a lot of things to say in July.

I just didn't write them down, unfortunately.

So, for August, expect at the very least a review of Fantasy Freaks and Gaming Geeks, along with perhaps a defense of RPG games (though I've never DM'd anything in my life), and possibly some more complaining about my oil-burning Chevy, Maggie, as well as (I hope) a few funny/interesting/diverting photos of local trivia.

In the meantime, as a tribute to P.C. and "things on the Internet he finds hilarious," chive on.