Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Crash into you.

No, not the Dave Matthews song, and not either of the movies (the David Cronenberg, sex-in-crashed-cars silliness, nor the new one with Sandra Bullock, Matt Dillon and so on). An actual car crash that has now brought the total cars in my household down to one.

Both of the car crashes of the past year have been at the hands--the darling, adorable hands--of my eighteen year old daughter. I believe that new rules for driving are in order.

The main thing for you to know is that if you have no car, you cannot go anywhere except on foot. And in the suburbs, this is death. There should be a new bit of figurative language or iconography or something that equates the sneaker with death. I'm just saying, there are no quick trips anywhere.

On the other hand, there is bucolic delight in working at the kitchen table looking into the backyard where the cherry trees are blooming away and there are also daffodils and tulips. Also, certain herbs have resurged, which made their first appearance in a pasta dish on Sunday.

Updates: despite having said the playoffs were something I was looking forward to, I have watched nary a game. Maybe I'm not that excited after all. Maybe, on the other hand, unless you've got a dog in the fight, the first round, at least, are pretty much a snore. And on the other other hand, what about Houston demolishing Dallas--twice?

New poem: I began a series of prose poems last week based on my husband's reading of the
Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. I feel I've read them now by proxy. I'll update you as to the progress of these new poems.

Preparing for a great upswing in grading activity. Last night, I prepared by watching quite a bit of random television.


  1. Prose poems are good. I like the prose poem. I especially like the idea of the prose poem project. I will be posting about my silly prose poem project soon.

    As to driving, you must get your daughter the car I had when I was a teenager: a 1973 Buick LeSabre. I bought it for three hundred dollars and it ran beautifully. Just needed lots of oil and gas. It was large, steel, and it got about 10 miles to the gallon. All good things. The poor gas mileage means that she won't be able to afford to drive as much. Because the car is so large, other cars simply bounce off of it (I know from experience), and because the car is large and trashy other drivers steer clear of you. Driving a Buick LeSabre is like a preemptive strike.

  2. I bought my brother's '72 Cougar XR7 and I was hell-on-wheels until I crashed it. I was then reduced to my mom's old LTD. Talk about having a radical image shift. I don't think my reputation has ever recorverd.

    Cars: meh. I am getting more and more pissed-off at our carcentric culture.

  3. Meh? To you I say, you don't live in the burbs anymore. I have a liberal's nostalgia for something I've never had--urban living space, which, I swear, if I had it, I would walk and also disdain our carcentric culture. As it is, I think we'll be buying two new/old cars. With more rules attached to them.

  4. I have only one thing to say and it is inpronounceable: http://gardnecl.home.comcast.net/incars.htm.

  5. Hee and I even said it in my professional persona!

  6. Man, Clint, I just checked out your link--very thorough work! Good job! I could do the same. I don't think I've ever had the kind of relationship with a car that entailed a name (for the car)(that is, a name that wasn't vulgar).



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