A "Secret Life of Houses" Digression.

Hm. We had squirrels in the attic/crawlspace of the last place we lived in. They scrabbled around something fierce sometimes, and the dogs would go ballistic. A small fire smoked them out (they tore a hole in the ceiling to get out, then blasted past the firemen when they forced the door open), and they never came back.

I'm not sure how you feel about setting fire to your home to get rid of some squirrels, though.

sheesh - youse Amricans is so WEIRD!

Yes, we is. See, your forebears were petty criminals -- urban types. My forebears were, no offense to them or any like them, fanatically religious dirt farmers. So we is confused.


Anyway, this is why I generally refrain from the long uberposts. Stops threads dead in their tracks. (To hell with flaming; if you want to put people off, just write a lot.)

Yeah, patiodog, good writing is always frowned upon. Actually, I admit that it has a little dampening effect on me since I want to write something longish and thoughtfullish and maybe even somewhat funnyish but that's the kind of thing that either happens naturally or takes time to create, and it hasn't happened naturally yet, and I haven't had time to create something yet. So, nuthin'.

Which is dumb. I'll just start with Jim The Naked Guy, who tried hard to fit in with the co-ops "clothes optional" policy, so he would sit in his room, naked, door open, but couldn't bring himself to do so outside of his room. But if you walked by his room and had the misfortune of looking in, he would shoot you a "See! See! I can be naked! Don't ever accuse me of not being naked!" look.

Ha! That's brilliant! "See! I can be naked!"

(how is something that's "optional" a policy? "cool dude = nude dude," i s'pose. (this wasn't in winter, too, was it?))

With Jim the Naked Guy, it was all the time, rain or shine, below freezing or above. As long as it was in his room. With Sara the Naked Lady, it was all the time, anywhere, with an especial fondness for greeting the mailman or unsuspecting co-oppers' parents. (No, actually, the Naked People didn't like each other much.) With the rest of us (ahem), it was when it was really hot or after a sauna (we had a sauna) (this was the 90's, not the 70's, if you can believe that.) Or skinny-dipping. A fair amount of skinny-dipping. The frat boys loved us.

Policy-wise, it just meant if you wanted to get naked, get naked. I think I've told this story before, but my best friend met E.G. for the first time when he was standing in his doorway (he lived at the co-op too) chatting amicably with Sara the Naked Lady. My best friend was rather taken aback, but I was steeped thoroughly enough in the co-op ethos that I barely noticed. (Sara was naked, yes, but she wasn't exactly hot.)

Which is usually the case...

great thread, notanEasterbunny.

peppermintPatiodog - great writing. I can hear and smell and feel that house - and see it too.

when i see posts that long, i tune out.


more naked people, soz!

But patiodog, these were not people you WANTED to see naked. Well, maybe you, who knows. But Jim, for example:

About 40. Precious few social skills. E.G. and I named him "the evil watcher" at some point -- he would just kind of hang out on the periphery and watch. Dinner time -- all of us sitting at the table, eating, and Jim at one end... watching. House meetings -- Jim in the corner, watching. He wasn't, like, psycho, he was just rather painful to be around. A lot of us tried to draw him out and were met with monosyllabic non-answers. His face was pockmarked, he had a mullet, and late in our acquaintance, he'd developed jaundice. So he was all of those things and yellow, too.

Hmmmmm. Like a gargoyle with a mullet...

Hahahahaha!!

It's Jim!! Omigod! That's him!!

(Total giggle fit.)

Oh god, households!

That is a wonderful piccy! I have known a few Jims.

Now -I have a house problem.

What to do with the pussy cat.

When I knew I was moving into an all white, stainless steely apartment, I bought a couple of very out there things from a little local craft shop - called Urban Cow.

Now - I have had nowhere, really, to display them until now. Meanwhile, the apatment moved itself in a different direction - lots of Asian and tribal things, and some different, but blending things - the feeling is earthy and serene - with some oddish features - but harmonizing.

Now I have put my larger than life size papier mache Sealpoint Siamese with the huge blue goggle eyes, the bristling wire whiskers, and the ATTITOOD out on top of a newly assembled display cabinet - with the strange little clay pot-bellied cauldron, covered with bright squiggles of colour, the three funny legs and the Cat In The Hat hat. They are looking a little odd with my Smiling Angel of Rheims head, and my Pre-Cycladic Figure, and my little Aphrodite and the small, but lovely, little bone-coloured sculpture called Womb and Tomb (very smooth and subtle) and the peaceful atmosphere - but I love 'em.


WHAT shall I do?

What should I do?

relax. have a shiraz and a smoke. contemplate your cat and your earthenware cat-hat-pot (not cot-hot-pat, who was a camp counselor from way back). they will tell you what to do.










'course, they may be destined for the rubbish if you're short on closet space.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!


Beast! BAAAAAAAAAD dog!

I am sitting with the new look - we shall see.

meanwhile, perhaps I should mention wanker - a housemate of many years ago, who, apparently frequently overcome with the acive mating habits of the rest of us, and his permanent state of girl-friendlessness, would retire often to his room - immediately off the kitchen - which was the nerve centre of a very active 24 hour house social life - and wank for hours, it seemed.

Now - this essentially private activity was made ruthlessly evident to the assembled folk because he made his bed rock against the wall, creating a loud, banging noise in synch with his efforts.

SUCH a fun thing to explain to one's friends!

The same man would always end up, towards the crescendo of house parties, retching his guts up under the lemon tree, from a combination of too many drugs and a weak stomach.

Being a loyal household, we would always give comfort to him during these endless evacuations.

His habit is famous lo these many years later, because there was not only all our friends who were aware, but there was a similarly large and active household next door, who were able to see and hear everything from their place - I am sometimes still introduced to people from that era as Deb who lived with X who used to heave his guts up under the lemon tree, remember? And everyone always does....

if ever a wiz a wiz there was the wizard of oz is one because

WELL IT SEEMED TO SUIT THE OCCASION ANYWAY WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT LEAVE ME ALONE



huh? where am I?


(sorry, friday)

GOOD friday.

well, 'tis good saturday here...

"Good" Friday.

Proof that at least one pontiff had a well-developed sense of irony.

heeheeheheehheeh

it is a good sunny friday here. the dogs are gleeful.