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All Epochs Must Pass

I’ve been locked into a Cubist epoch for the past seven days. At the outset, I was extremely prolific, producing two paintings over the course of two days. Since last Friday, however, I have been toiling away on what I have decided must be the last of my Cubist works.

A floccinaucinihilipilificator might suggest this piece belongs in a dumpster behind an orphanage.

But it doesn’t. It is pulchritudinous. And sublime. And very, very lumpy.

Here is my ‘Late Cubism’ masterpiece, entitled Self Portrait, or also, The Bulge.

cubism3

Self Portrait, or, The Bulge, by Michael Cedarwood. (2015) Microsoft Paint

 

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Throwback Thursday

Here’s a photograph from last summer, the day the gal I’m going steady with and I attended our first Minnesota Twins game together. They played the Phillies on what turned out to be a gorgeous June evening. It’s a good picture—you can see the Minneapolis skyline in the background, and hometown hero Joe Mauer at the plate. She kind of ruined it by talking, but it’s still a fun memory.

twins

 

Fan Art

This letter came in today:

Dear Mr. Philosophunculist:

I painted this owl for you in the hopes that you will recognize our spiritual connection. This is actually a painting of you, or as I see you in my imagination. You are wise and elegant, yet fierce.

I will be your field mouse, and you may hunt me.

Swoop down on me with your sharp beak, and eat me for dinner. I’m okay with that.

You may notice this owl looks like a combination of angry, suspicious, and judgmental. I imagine this may be how you see me.

As I painted your eyes, they pierced my soul. As your blurbs of wisdom often do.

Look at this note as creepy, haunting, weird, I don’t care. Our souls are connected, and you don’t even know it yet.

But you will in time. YOU WILL.

My sincerest regards,

Your soulmate.

owl

Categories: Random Tags: , , , ,

A Few Random Things

—this happened one time in a restaurant:

servant: “would you like soup or salad with that?”

me: “a super salad, eh? yes, yes that sounds good. i’ll have that.”

servant: “well, which one?”

me: “there’s more than one super salad?!”

it was kind of like one of those ‘who’s on first’ things

every time one of my friends starts dating a new person, my first question for that friend is always, “what, is she blind and deaf?”

why does the orkin man wear a helmet? they’re bugs.

that’s all i’ve got.

—no it isn’t. i have a coworker with the last name Jass (i really do). not once have I asked if he has a relative with the name hugh. am i losing my wit, or finally showing signs of maturity?

 

The Chicken Ticker

Years ago, my roommate and I were sitting at a bar. At one point, I convinced him that I had a chicken ticker running at all times on my computer. He then wanted to know what a chicken ticker was. So I told him.

A chicken ticker is exactly the same thing as a stock market ticker, only it constantly informs you of the current price of chicken in your area. It crowed when the market opened, and all day there was a quiet, constant buck, buck, bucking in the background as the prices crept by.

Even I knew I had drank too much at that point.

 

“My Other Car Is A Tiny Penis”

Bumper sticker, spotted today on a Cadillac full of old women: “My other car is a tiny penis.”

What does that even mean?

This Blog Is Three Years Old Today

February 11, 2013 1 comment

Three years ago today, my WordPress notifier tells me, this blog began. I’d love to go into a long, rambling exposition about everything I’ve learned, the bizarre events and trains of thought that led up to each post, but I don’t want to end up crying like a girl on the last day of camp, or a fat kid on the first day of fat camp, or the homesick kid that cries right around the midpoint of camp.

Plus, I live in the now, man.

Happy anniversary, WordPress. Happy anniversary.

three

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