No. No.

The fact that most of the words mentioned in this article have no meaning for me I'll attribute less to my getting old than to my always having been old. But about this Four Loko. It somehow survives strictly as a promotional giveaway, right? Because I can't wrap my brain around the idea of walking into a liquor store and buying it. At the very least I'd hope the cashier would talk me out of it.

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Oh, by the way, it hit 70 in Providence this past Friday. That's just wrong. I don't mind getting a little break from winter here and there, and when you're learning to drive there's an upside to less snow on the streets. But come on now, that's like being thrust into the middle of the year. Hopefully things will moderate a little this week.

Ain't love grand

Just this week I started reading Art Taylor's On the Road with Del and Louise. This is Taylor's first book - he's published a bunch of short stories - and it comes from a small Dallas specialty publisher. Nonetheless, it's got a reputation already. It took a while for the library system's copy to become available. Last night a barista told me it was one of her favorite books when she saw it in my hand.

The titular couple are lovers on the road. They met when he was robbing the 7-Eleven she worked at. They tend to straddle the line, one foot on the right side of the law, the other not. He was pulling heists to pay for tuition, by the way. Their life sees them solving crimes and committing them at about the same time.

Henery Press, the publisher, specializes in mystery. This book does fall under the broad category of crime fiction. The shambolic tales defy genre expectations, though. They're marked by low-key charm and a feel for the West.

A time of waste

When possible I try to pick up some litter. There's a lot of it. If something is recyclable I'll hold onto it until I get home, or - as today - until I see a recycling can that's left over from the morning's trash pickup. If not I'll just drop it in the nearest receptacle.

But here's the thing: A lot of time the nearest receptacle is only a few feet from where the litter was dropped. There are times when not littering is about as easy as littering, but people still go for the latter. It's like keeping the streets and the ground beyond them clean is not just not a priority; it's not even recognized as something good.

Do we actively want to poison the planet to death and then expire while straddling its corpse? Maybe we do.

Swinging the axe

Having just turned 64 ("Will you still need me...") is Kristy Marlana Wallace, a.k.a. Poison Ivy Rorschach. A great guitarist. Hasn't been much heard from since Lux shuffled off this mortal coil. Wonder what she's up to.

Red

Talked to a guy tonight about the steps we'll have to take before we can explore/settle Mars. It's an interesting topic, in theory. In practice I'm not expecting to see it anytime soon.

As far as moving people there, well... The thing is, it can only have as much biodiversity as we can export from Earth. At a maximum, that's if you can somehow transport breedable samples of everything. So that's something we have to maintain here, which we should be doing anyway.

Gathering moss

This afternoon/evening I was waiting for a bus. I got to the stop about five minutes early, by my own estimate. Buses aren't supposed to go by the stops early, but sometimes they do, so it's best to be prepared if you can.

As it happens, this one didn't run fast. I waited five minutes. Then ten. To cut to the chase, the bus I was waiting for was about twenty minutes later than I expected. So late, in fact, that another one on the same route was the next vehicle behind it. One of them was only a few minutes behind, the other much more.

I actually am not sure which is which. The one I climbed aboard was crowded, although I've seen worse. The one that had been behind but leapfrogged ahead was about empty. One of them was supposed to be there just a little before four. I don't know which was which, but one picked up almost all the passengers, myself included.

And continued to do so. The other driver could have picked up the girl at the next stop, unless - possible but unlikely - she arrived between that bus and ours. I kind of felt bad for the driver whose vehicle I was on. He's one of the genuine nice ones.

Meeting of the minds

From a New Year's Eve special that Frank hosted. I wasn't able to unearth it this past New Year's, but there's a case to be made that it's more needed now.

See the sea cow

Hoovering the ocean floor might not be the most dignified way to get a meal, but it will do in a pinch.

What's crazy here is when you remember that dugongs are mammals, and thus must breathe air. This is an awful long time to stay down.

Don't call us...

So not too long ago, a recruiting/placement agency left a message on my answering machine. I recently figured that just to cover all the bases I might as well call them and see what if anything they could do for me. So I tried calling the number they left me. No answer. No, that's not quite right. I got an automated message telling me the number had either been changed or was out of service. If it's been changed they don't publicize what it's been changed to.

Google the company and you see another number. I tried calling that as well. The same thing happened.

The website doesn't provide a public email address. There is a link you can send things to, but it's pretty much limited to uploading resumes. You can't tailor your message.

So the question is how are you supposed to get in touch with these people? Apparently you're not.

32

Sharks have it made. They just keep growing new teeth throughout their lifetime. First of all that means that you always have a full set of teeth. Also, if you're cranky and out of sorts, you can always blame it on teething pains.

Babies also have it made, but that won't last forever.

Clarification

I am not learning to drive a stick shift. I seem to remember saying that I was, but I'm not. Automatic transitions have something that looks like a stick, thus the source of my confusion. May learn someday, but there aren't as many manual transmissions as there used to be.

Did drive in the rain today, though. And I'm learning from men for whom English isn't their first language. So points somewhere.

This Sunday

Tomorrow is the Superbowl. New England is playing Atlanta. Providence is close enough to Foxboro to get personally involved on a citywide basis. Different stripes of rowdiness could result from the Patriots winning or losing. I've seen this. Probably not fires, though. Who wants to work on a Sunday?

I think therefore I wood

Je suis donc je bois from Yseult Renard on Vimeo.

If your French is sufficiently rust free, please let me know what these drinks are talking about. The title apparently translates to "Therefore I am wood." Another puzzler

Definitely a handsome bit of film making, though.