Category: This; And also that

Yes.
Yes I am on a cell phone.
You’re right about that.
And I’m driving. Yes I am. I’m driving at the same time.
I’m on a cell phone right now. And I’m driving. Yes. At the same time. Yes.
And screw you too.

Scanning the site’s traffic log tonight I learned two incredible facts:
(1) Because of a pair of lines in a pair of poems… if you search “exotic bird parks” and “Utah” in Google, not only is cecilvortex.com the first choice you get, cecilvortex.com is the only choice you get.
Amazing!
(2) Somebody — some actual human being — appears to have actually searched for “exotic bird parks” and “Utah” on Google and then clicked through to this site.
And!: Not only is all this true, but it’s a genuine double-true fact that my writing about this whole thing — right now! will only reinforce cecilvortex.com’s dominant position in this space.
Now I have to say, it’s not like this is anything I ever really aspired to. I mean, it wasn’t part of my master plan when cecilvortex.com started up or anything. But of course, now that I’m here, now that I’ve arrived, I plan to hold on like grim death.
So for this magical moment and for the foreseeable future, also magical, if you’ve come here in search of information regarding exotic bird parks in Utah, let me just say:
Welcome home.
In somewhat related news, and I know pretty soon it’s gonna start to sound like I’m bragging but… it appears that cecilvortex.com is also the number two (and perhaps soon, number one…?) Google result for “he peed in me.” Triple-true that. Check for yourself, if you dare.
All in all, I feel like I finally have a small feel for what it must be like to be Spider Man. The challenge now, if I can loosely paraphrase Ben Parker, is to find a way to use this awesome power for good.

So my 3-and-a-half-year-old son is busting kung fu moves in the living room yesterday. And his godfather asks him: “Did you learn that from Jackie Chan?” And my son replies: “No, I learned it from Chuck E. Cheese.”

It was a hard laugh. A cold laugh.
The kind of laugh that savages the funny. 

It pulls the funny outside.
Stuffs it into the trunk of a
'79 Chevy Impala.

Takes the funny for a ride.

It was a hard, joyless laugh.
And it kept on coming.

I should have gone to the bathroom when I had the chance.
I should have got myself a coffee before the coffee shop closed.
I should have not said that thing that I said.
I should have just let it go.
Let it go.

With the biggest smile, my headed-toward-four-year-old says:
“Daddy?”
And I say “Yeah?”
And he says:
“Since it’s such a beautiful day, I love you.”
And that line, complete with matching catchy melody, has been stuck in my headbone for nearly 72 hours now.
The perfect Cole Porter lyric, showing up nearly 40 years too late, at least from Cole Porter’s perspective.
RIP Cole Porter.
Tony Randall too.

He was a rock star, wearing an orange t-shirt while the rest of the band wore gray.
Showing off his practiced dance moves on particle board.
Strumming a big guitar. Stomping one boot in rhythm.
Sending out bass and drum
to a crowd of sun-sweat smiley college boys and girls
who sat and stood and stared
and clapped and vibrated.
And the middle-aged guys were out in numbers.
Bald under favored baseball caps.
Pants stained from the gogurt
their kids ate that morning.
And everyone had bottled water.
And then the vibration closed
and cooled and stopped.
And the crowd roared at the rock star.
And they roared at each other
And they roared at themselves.
roar.
(image from the show — with the orange and gray swapped out for white jumpsuits — here.)

How come nobody’s building arks?
Everybody’s building boats.
I wish someone would build me an ark.
Pray that it floats…..

True-fact dialog tonight between my 6-year-old daughter and my 3-year-old son:
She: “Why is 6 afraid of 7?”
He: “Cuz 7 is a monster.”
And I don’t know. I just find that funny.
I mean, yeah, the more traditional response would be “because 7 8/ate 9.”
And sure, that’s what they want him to say.
But really, strictly speaking, he’s right.
9 is gone. 7 is a monster.
And 6 is wise to fear.

1. I am a monkey what likes to learn.
2. I know this sounds whacky, but keeping a semi-regular journal, which I’ve started doing these last few months, seems to kinda maybe sorta be improving my long term memory in strange and spooky ways.
3. Coming up with a decent joke that uses the phrase “long term mammary” at 11:48 pm on a Monday night, is much harder than you might think. In fact, it’s impossible.