Do you wanna potty? It's potty time!
Ah, the joys and frustrations of stay-at-home-daddyhood. Dylan, my two year old, is in the potty training "zone," & has nearly mastered the art of the #1. He is very proud of his big boy underpants, (or "underboy pants" in Dilly-speak) and very conscious about wetting them. #2, however, seems to be an entirely different ballgame. One successful poop in the potty & one odd incident behind our bedroom door. (Not sure what that was about.)
I'm not sure how centuries of housewives managed to balance housework, child care and maintaining their sanity. (I hear huffing oven cleaner helps with that last one.) It took me almost half an hour to sweep the kitchen floor today, a process involving considerable distraction, diversion and breaks to soothe the fussy baby. Plus I had to try to explain to Dylan why the Cheerios I swept out from under the table where no longer edible.
As I type this, it's now 2:30- waaay past nap time. Lily is usually fairly easy to get to sleep; lay down in bed with her and hold a bottle for about ten minutes. Dylan, however, will not sleep until he collapses from sheer exhaustion. (Maybe I should get a large rubber mallet.) And, of course, he is disinclined to play quietly while I'm trying to get Lily down. She got in about twenty solid minutes of shut-eye before Dylan's attempts to create new percussion instruments from various items in our bedroom finally managed to wake her up. Now I'm dealing with an extremely cranky baby & a toddler who will finally crash out at about 4:00, sleep until Lea gets home sometime after 6, and then not want to go to bed tonight. Good thing I don't need to sleep.
By the way, last night was the first time Dylan ever walked in on Lea & I as we were "practicing in case we ever want to make another baby." He thought it was hilarious, ("You guys are naked!") but I can see him reliving the moment in nightmares. Thirty years from now, he'll either be in therapy or up on a clocktower somewhere.
Gotta go. Diaper time. Despite my complaints, I have to admit it beats working for a living.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
Is anybody out there?
I'm what you'd call a blog-o-virgin. In fact, six months ago I had no idea what a blog was. (It sounded like something you'd peel off the bottom of your shoe.) I am an anti-social, techno-phobic sourpuss, who always swore he had no use for anything like on-line community. In fact, both the words "on-line" & "community" cause me to wince and/ or cringe like a slug in ice-water.
So what brought about my change of heart? A few things. I'm a writer, with chronic incompletism. I hope to talk to other writers out in the world for mutual support, guidance and advice. Plus, I'm kind of an opinionated jerk, hoping to talk to other opinionated jerks out in the world for mutual animosity, misinformation and barbed insults. I'll probably encounter more of the latter, but that's cool.
I'm also a stay-at-home Dad (great thanks to my wife Lea for allowing me this opportunity) with two incredible kids. Dylan, age 2.5 & Lily, aged 9 months. The search for mutual support , guidance and advice applies here, too. I'd love to talk to other parents trying to raise human children in an increasingly inhuman world.
Having no real life of my own outside of the kids and my writing, I am a fanatical movie buff. Of course, having kids has put a serious dent in my moviegoing. The last film I saw theatrically was "Curious George." I wish that was a joke.
Still, most of my opinions concern movies. Here's a random movie opinion: David Lynch is a fucking God. (By the way, if you're offended by fucking shitty language, this is not the place for you. Buh-bye.)
Here, in my humble but utterly inflexible opinion, are the top 5 David Lynch movies:
5) "Wild at Heart." A true wild ride. Hot, sweaty sex (you feel kinda sticky just watching Laura Dern & Nicolas Cage going at it,) way over-the-top violence (Cage pounds a dude's head to pulp against a marble staircase to a vicious heavy-metal riff in the FIRST TEN MINUTES,) a turn-on-a-dime perfect Elvis impression, Willem DeFoe & the ugliest prosthetic teeth in film history and an intense scene of verbal rape ("Say fuck me.") Plus Crispin Glover stuffing cockroaches into his underwear. Fun game: Take a drink at every random "Wizard of Oz" reference. "You got me hottern'n Georgia asphalt."
4) "Twin Peaks"/ "Fire Walk With Me." The first season of the TV show was one of the most amazing things ever broadcast on network television. The second season- not so much. Still, every episode that Lynch personally directed had at least one scene of pure freaky brilliance. The final episode, watched by myself and five other people across the USA, was without a doubt the most surreal thing shown on American TV (with the possible exception of Urkel.) The spin-off prequel movie is a bad movie I love. Bad dialogue, cornball humor, incest nightmares and flashes of cinematic genius. (The nightclub scene & Laura Palmer's murder.) "There was a fish . . . IN the percolator!"
3) "Blue Velvet" I first saw this when I was fourteen & it twisted my head backwards. Dennis Hopper was so evil, he made Darth Vader look like a pussy. (Pussy CAT, that is.) I still get chills when I hear Roy Orbison sing "In Dreams." Sometimes I even hear Roy Orbison in MY dreams, and that's really weird. "You know what a love letter is? A bullet from a fuckin' gun, fucker!"
2) "Eraserhead." Made "Blue Velvet" seem like Velveeta. (You know, bland & cheesy.) This one struck a deep chord, as it was the closest cinematic representation of certain dreams I've had under the influence of a high fever or bad sea food. That might not sound like your idea of a good time, but I'd eat nothing but rotten oysters if I could have "Eraserhead" dreams all the time. Plus the scene where Henry eats dinner with his girlfriend's parents is funnier than "Meet the Parents" & ". . . the Fockers" put together. "They're not even sure it IS a baby."
1) "Mulholland Dr." Ranking this one first may seem like sacrilege to Lynch purists (there are some out there; they're scary people) but this movie has it all: deeply warped humor (check out the mob hit that takes out a vacuum cleaner,) Naomi Watts in a hot girl-girl sex scene, a true mind-fuck of an identity blurring ending, Naomi Watts in a hot girl-girl sex scene. (Listing that twice was NOT a typo.) About the ending: a lot of people have theories, but I truly believe that it's not meant to be figured out. It's supposed to lodge in your brain and fester for weeks, just barely eluding full comprehension. I don't do drugs anymore, so movies like "Mulholland Dr." are the next best thing. "Silencio."
So there you have it, a proclamation of purpose and unsolicited opinions on the films of David Lynch. Please leave a comment, on Lynch or anything else. I'd love to hear from you, whoever you are.
I'm what you'd call a blog-o-virgin. In fact, six months ago I had no idea what a blog was. (It sounded like something you'd peel off the bottom of your shoe.) I am an anti-social, techno-phobic sourpuss, who always swore he had no use for anything like on-line community. In fact, both the words "on-line" & "community" cause me to wince and/ or cringe like a slug in ice-water.
So what brought about my change of heart? A few things. I'm a writer, with chronic incompletism. I hope to talk to other writers out in the world for mutual support, guidance and advice. Plus, I'm kind of an opinionated jerk, hoping to talk to other opinionated jerks out in the world for mutual animosity, misinformation and barbed insults. I'll probably encounter more of the latter, but that's cool.
I'm also a stay-at-home Dad (great thanks to my wife Lea for allowing me this opportunity) with two incredible kids. Dylan, age 2.5 & Lily, aged 9 months. The search for mutual support , guidance and advice applies here, too. I'd love to talk to other parents trying to raise human children in an increasingly inhuman world.
Having no real life of my own outside of the kids and my writing, I am a fanatical movie buff. Of course, having kids has put a serious dent in my moviegoing. The last film I saw theatrically was "Curious George." I wish that was a joke.
Still, most of my opinions concern movies. Here's a random movie opinion: David Lynch is a fucking God. (By the way, if you're offended by fucking shitty language, this is not the place for you. Buh-bye.)
Here, in my humble but utterly inflexible opinion, are the top 5 David Lynch movies:
5) "Wild at Heart." A true wild ride. Hot, sweaty sex (you feel kinda sticky just watching Laura Dern & Nicolas Cage going at it,) way over-the-top violence (Cage pounds a dude's head to pulp against a marble staircase to a vicious heavy-metal riff in the FIRST TEN MINUTES,) a turn-on-a-dime perfect Elvis impression, Willem DeFoe & the ugliest prosthetic teeth in film history and an intense scene of verbal rape ("Say fuck me.") Plus Crispin Glover stuffing cockroaches into his underwear. Fun game: Take a drink at every random "Wizard of Oz" reference. "You got me hottern'n Georgia asphalt."
4) "Twin Peaks"/ "Fire Walk With Me." The first season of the TV show was one of the most amazing things ever broadcast on network television. The second season- not so much. Still, every episode that Lynch personally directed had at least one scene of pure freaky brilliance. The final episode, watched by myself and five other people across the USA, was without a doubt the most surreal thing shown on American TV (with the possible exception of Urkel.) The spin-off prequel movie is a bad movie I love. Bad dialogue, cornball humor, incest nightmares and flashes of cinematic genius. (The nightclub scene & Laura Palmer's murder.) "There was a fish . . . IN the percolator!"
3) "Blue Velvet" I first saw this when I was fourteen & it twisted my head backwards. Dennis Hopper was so evil, he made Darth Vader look like a pussy. (Pussy CAT, that is.) I still get chills when I hear Roy Orbison sing "In Dreams." Sometimes I even hear Roy Orbison in MY dreams, and that's really weird. "You know what a love letter is? A bullet from a fuckin' gun, fucker!"
2) "Eraserhead." Made "Blue Velvet" seem like Velveeta. (You know, bland & cheesy.) This one struck a deep chord, as it was the closest cinematic representation of certain dreams I've had under the influence of a high fever or bad sea food. That might not sound like your idea of a good time, but I'd eat nothing but rotten oysters if I could have "Eraserhead" dreams all the time. Plus the scene where Henry eats dinner with his girlfriend's parents is funnier than "Meet the Parents" & ". . . the Fockers" put together. "They're not even sure it IS a baby."
1) "Mulholland Dr." Ranking this one first may seem like sacrilege to Lynch purists (there are some out there; they're scary people) but this movie has it all: deeply warped humor (check out the mob hit that takes out a vacuum cleaner,) Naomi Watts in a hot girl-girl sex scene, a true mind-fuck of an identity blurring ending, Naomi Watts in a hot girl-girl sex scene. (Listing that twice was NOT a typo.) About the ending: a lot of people have theories, but I truly believe that it's not meant to be figured out. It's supposed to lodge in your brain and fester for weeks, just barely eluding full comprehension. I don't do drugs anymore, so movies like "Mulholland Dr." are the next best thing. "Silencio."
So there you have it, a proclamation of purpose and unsolicited opinions on the films of David Lynch. Please leave a comment, on Lynch or anything else. I'd love to hear from you, whoever you are.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)