tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39000842011-04-21T16:05:24.429-07:00WriterightRandom musings on a writer's life & times, with occasional input from acquaintancesDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comBlogger2871100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1165011357442502832006-12-01T14:12:00.000-08:002006-12-01T14:15:57.456-08:00I have a cold. What a drag. My wife also has a cold. And so does my eldest son. We are the draggiest.Today is Woody Allen's 71st birthday. He is one my great heroes. He once said: "My one regret in life is that I am not someone else." Me, too. In fact, I might wish I was Woody Allen, except I can't stand whinette Mia Farrow and I think Soon-Yi is ugly as a mud fence. He shoulda hung on to Diane Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1162751884643668592006-11-05T10:37:00.000-08:002006-11-05T10:38:04.656-08:00There is something insane about a lack of doubt. Doubt, to me anyway, is what makes you human, and without doubt even the righteous lose their grip not only on reality but also on their humanity. --actress Tilda Swinton, b. 1960Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1152897111330784282006-07-14T10:05:00.000-07:002006-07-14T10:17:39.740-07:00So this guy from Rattle magazine sends me an e-mail saying he wants the internet address of my blog or website because he plans to list it in the magazine when Rattle publishes one of my poems next fall. I shipped him the old http://writeright.blogspot.com with some reservation, seeing as how I hadn’t posted anything on Writeright since March and that screed was the first in quite a while. I Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1143157947772921712006-03-23T15:46:00.000-08:002006-03-23T15:56:01.153-08:00Time to rant about TV sportscasters again. I’ve spent a lot of time watching college basketball tournaments on the boob tube lately, and as a result I’ve ground my teeth down almost to my bleeding gums at the inanity of various aspects of sportspeak. Prime complaint 1: “Obviously.” Again and again and again, sportscasters begin a remark with “obviously” and then proceed to blather on at length Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1135722936244348262005-12-27T14:33:00.000-08:002005-12-27T14:38:44.006-08:00Only the bored welcome the unexpected.-- L. Rust Hills, editor and writerDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1131911488078284092005-11-13T11:50:00.000-08:002005-11-13T11:51:28.086-08:00So did you see that wire story in The Oregonian the other day about the mother and two middle-aged sons who went to Port Orford from Idaho to scatter their husband/father’s ashes in the Pacific and got knocked down by a “sneaker” wave that drowned the mother and one of the sons? Is that irony, or what? Reminds me of a story I covered (by phone, thank god, not on the scene) when I was a reporter Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1125275521600223782005-08-28T17:25:00.000-07:002005-08-28T17:38:12.213-07:00You’re about to read a Sunday 7. You lucky dog (or dogette, as the case may be).1) What are you wearing?Bare feet, blue shorts with maroon piping, white t-shirt with drawing of three hiking potatoes who say, sequentially, “I,” “Da,” “Ho.”2) What are you reading?“Until I Find You,” a new novel by John Irving. I just finished Harry Potter 6 (aka “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince”), so I Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1124667152587879212005-08-21T16:31:00.000-07:002005-08-21T16:32:32.593-07:00I was in northern Idaho a couple of weeks ago, attempting suicide by bicycle, when I spotted this little shop called “Wolf People” more or less in the middle of nowhere. Wolves have long intrigued me, so I staggered off the bike for a few minutes. Turns out the people who run the joint are wolf preservationists. They sell wolf paraphernalia of various sorts to raise money for their preservation Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1123971224872351822005-08-13T15:13:00.000-07:002005-08-13T15:19:47.203-07:00Reading Philip Roth’s novel The Human Stain, I ran across a passage in which he describes alumni returning to a small college town and inevitably “thinking the best, the very best, of every last thing that had ever befallen them on these streets.” I have reached the stage in life where I can look back somewhat nostalgically on my days as a student at the University of Oregon in Eugene, but I Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1123807664964013012005-08-11T17:32:00.000-07:002005-08-11T17:47:44.970-07:00Hey! I ran across these quotes from Oscar Wilde, and I just couldn't resist sharing them. The novelist/playwright/man-about-London may have ended up committing social hara-kiri with his own gay blade, but he certainly cut to the heart of many matters with his words. Such as:"It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.""Seriousness is the Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1120443199820098392005-07-03T19:13:00.000-07:002005-07-03T19:16:01.166-07:00Here is a Sunday 7, the first since April. Bet you thought you’d never see another one. Or wished.1) What are you wearing?Bare feet, tan shorts, black T-shirt, a goatee. (Yes! A goatee! I grew one since I last wrote a Sunday 7. I added it to the mustache I have worn, off and on, since I was 18. It makes me look like Sigmund Freud or Leon Trotsky -- take your pick. Lemund Freudsky, perhaps.)2) Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1118861695737191242005-06-15T11:52:00.000-07:002005-06-15T11:56:04.956-07:00My three sons -- Chip, Robby and Mike (omigod, I’ve turned into Fred MacMurray, and I’m married to William Frawley!) -- were sitting around the other night watching old “Angel” television shows on DVD when they were struck by how many scenes of torture crop up in the vampire series. These programs were made for commercial TV, of course, so the torture couldn’t be too severe. This set the boys Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1113757523037164402005-04-17T10:04:00.000-07:002005-04-17T10:15:15.766-07:00The Sunday 7. Again. Can you believe it?1) What are you wearing?Flip-flop house shoes, white Nike sox, green silk pajama pants, brown faux retro baseball tee shirt from Old Coast Guard, black sweatshirt (to match my mood).2) What are you reading?I’m stuck again in one of those multiple-book loops. I’m still plugging along on “Book Doctor,” a novel by Esther Cohen about a woman who “helps” other Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1113161840020677562005-04-10T12:35:00.000-07:002005-04-10T12:37:20.023-07:00Okay, okay. If you insist, I’ll answer the Sunday 7. 1) What are you wearing?Flip-flop house shoes, white Nike sox, blue Levi’s jeans, my white I-Da-Ho tee shirt with the high-stepping potatoes on the front, green sweatshirt (I can wear green now that the U of Oregon is no longer playing football or basketball; as a loyal alum, I can’t wear school colors on game days because the Ducks always loseDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1112556119653556962005-04-03T12:17:00.000-07:002005-04-03T12:21:59.656-07:00The Sunday 7 once more, with feeling. (I wrote them in Braille.)1) Flip-flop house shoes, white Nike sox, tan cotton slacks, blue Los Angeles Dodgers sweatshirt (in honor of today being opening day for major league baseball), white t-shirt with a series of drawings of a left-handed pitcher going through his wind-up (it’s cool, because if I stand in front of a mirror he’s doing the same thing Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1111987460792425222005-03-27T21:20:00.000-08:002005-03-27T21:24:20.796-08:00Peoria Dave has returned to the house (from spring break in California), so here’s the Sunday 7.1) Red, green and black fleece sweatshirt, white souvenir t-shirt from the 2004 Tour de Blast (a sadistic organized bike ride up the side of the famous Mount St. Helens volcano, across the Columbia River from Portland), red slacks (the ones my wife claims were discarded by a burger joint counterman), Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1111374844736067762005-03-20T19:12:00.000-08:002005-03-20T19:14:04.736-08:00Here’s a quickie Sunday 7.1) What are you wearing?Black, white and blue sweatsuit (I just finished riding a spinning bike for 45 minutes, pant, pant); gray T-shirt with a drawing of baseball players and a logo for spring training in Florida, a souvenir of a vacation trip several years ago; white Nike sox; flip flops.2) What are you reading?“The Polysyllabic Spree,” a collection of magazine Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1110734475910565992005-03-13T09:19:00.000-08:002005-03-13T09:21:15.913-08:00The Sunday 7. Once more, with (or without) gusto.1) What are you wearing?Green souvenir t-shirt from last summer’s week-long Idaho Bike Ride, green silk pajama pants, white Nike sox, flipflop slippers.2) What are you reading?“The Bear Went Over the Mountain,” a satirical novel by William Kotzwinkle. It’s a hoot! It tells of a Maine bear who finds a novel manuscript and decides to go to New York Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1110135377721818762005-03-06T10:54:00.000-08:002005-03-06T10:56:17.723-08:00I’m back. Did you miss me? Here’s the seven.1) What are you wearing?Red University of Nebraska sweatshirt, beloved brown t-shirt with faux-old baseball team emblem on the front, dark red (cabernet?) silk pajama pants, white Nike sox.2) What are you reading?“A Thing (or Two) about Curtis and Camilla,” a novel by Nick Fowler. I guess this is what they call megafiction, because it has footnotes. Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1108919770700536762005-02-20T09:14:00.000-08:002005-02-20T09:24:32.466-08:00Hey! I’m answering the Sunday 7 two weeks in a row! How about that? Diligence, thy name is Dave.1) What are you wearing?A white toga, sandals and a laurel-wreath crown.2) What are you reading?Still plodding through Michael Chabon’s juvenile opus “Summerland.” When he sticks to the story, the novel zips right along. When he starts blabbing about Coyote, the tree of life, alternate universes and Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1108318766097184312005-02-13T10:15:00.000-08:002005-02-13T10:33:50.860-08:00Since I missed last week, today’s Sunday 7 will have to be twice as good. Right? Right. Cross your fingers.1) What are you wearing?Black, white and red plaid flannel pajama pants (it was COLD when I staggered out of bed at 6 o’clock this morning and began to dress, so I put the flannel back on), white t-shirt with Missouri Review magazine covers printed across the front (a freebie for subscribingDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1107101080864340032005-01-30T08:02:00.000-08:002005-01-30T08:04:40.863-08:00If it’s Sunday, this must be the 7. 1) What are you wearing? Green corduroy pants, brown t-shirt, black sweatshirt, white sox, tan sweatboots. Color combinations like this come about when one dresses in the dark, as I did this morning. I don’t recommend it. (Didn’t someone once write a song about that? “Dressing in the dark, we were dressing in the dark . . .” Ah, maybe not.) 2) What are you Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1106529089913939502005-01-23T17:08:00.000-08:002005-01-23T17:14:39.193-08:00Having recovered, more or less, from the Monday 8, we return you now to the regularly scheduled Sunday 7. 1) What are you wearing? Sweatboots, white Nike sox, blue jeans, black sweatshirt with matching mood. 2) What are you reading? “Foul Matter,” a novel about the publishing industry by Martha Grimes. Not terribly well written, but a hoot for those of us trapped in the lit biz. 3) What’s Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1106020818204965912005-01-17T19:57:00.000-08:002005-01-23T17:16:11.493-08:00So I missed doing the Sunday 7 two weeks in a row. So shoot me. I apologize to my readers (both of you) for the lackadaisical attitude. I’ll try to make up for it today with the -- ta da! -- Monday 8. 1) What are you wearing? Pink silk camisole, black thong panties, black patent leather stiletto heels, a seductive smile. 2) What are you reading? “I Was Howard Hughes,” a novel by Steven Carter,Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1104721201188295872005-01-02T18:56:00.000-08:002005-01-02T19:00:01.190-08:00Here’s 7 for Sunday the 2nd day of the 1st month of ’05. 1) What are you wearing? Pathetic black t-shirt with a red and white logo on the front memorializing the London Underground (I bought it at the subway stop outside the Tower of London last summer; it was encased in plastic, so I couldn’t feel how flimsy it was, and now -- after four months of wear -- the fabric has 12 visible holes, Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1104346972981556202004-12-29T11:00:00.000-08:002004-12-29T11:02:52.980-08:00 I have bookmarked on my computer the website of an outfit called NewPages (http://www.newpages.com), which is sort of a reader’s digest focusing on literary news, with a dash of left-leaning political rants. In recent days, its on-site weblog has led off with a diatribe against Time magazine for naming President George W. Bush it’s Person of the Year and printing his squinty-eyed visage on its Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1104081250423641322004-12-26T09:01:00.000-08:002004-12-26T09:14:10.423-08:00 Since I didn’t post the Sunday 7 last weekend because I was out of town, I decided to make up for it today by answering 40 -- yes, FORTY!-- questions. I stole most of the questions off someone else’s blog. The answers are mine, though. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1. LIVING ARRANGEMENTS? My wife, Cookie Jean, allows me, son Andy and pet Miss Kitty to share her domicile in Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1103850481451783122004-12-23T17:06:00.000-08:002004-12-23T17:08:01.450-08:00An outfit operating on the internet is accepting telegram messages for dead people to be delivered at a price of five bucks a word. Afterlife Telegrams says this is done with the help of terminally ill volunteers who memorize messages and then deliver them “after they have passed away.” There is a five-word minimum. Interested? Go to http://afterlifetelegrams.com I spent quite a while deciding Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1103822680761583762004-12-23T09:24:00.000-08:002004-12-23T09:24:40.760-08:00I see by the newspaper that Randall Cunningham, retired mediocre but longtime pro football quarterback, has received his bachelor’s degree from the University of Nevada at Las Vegas at the age of 41. It’s in leisure studies. Leisure studies! It took him 23 years to earn a degree. No wonder they call it LEISURE studies! And what better place to study leisure than Las Vegas? I wonder if he took Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1103808623848781012004-12-23T05:27:00.000-08:002004-12-23T05:31:33.823-08:00 Hey! I’m back! I missed posting the Sunday 7 last weekend because I was attending a family gathering at Black Butt Ranch in Central Oregon. A fine time was had by all, except my two youngest sons, who came down with a puking-trotting illness that dampened their enthusiasm somewhat. Ah, well. Incidentally, Writeright travel critic C. Peter Dimwiddy -- known around the office as Millimeter Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1102882149441954552004-12-12T13:05:00.000-08:002004-12-12T12:09:09.440-08:00Hello. It’s Sunday so here’s the 7. 1) What are you wearing? Blue sweatshirt with a Los Angeles Dodgers logo on the front (this in protest of the Dodgers signing Jeff Kent, a surly redneck who ranks as one of my least favorite baseball players, to a free agent contract; Jeff Kent’s only redeeming quality is that he once fought then-teammate Barry Bonds, who is my VERY LEAST favorite player; theDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1102277872391409802004-12-05T13:13:00.000-08:002004-12-05T15:21:13.733-08:00Writeright seems to have devolved into a weekly production, sort of like the old column I used to write for The Bulletin, that illustrious newspaper in Bend, Ore-gawn. I’m not sure what this signifies. I’ll have to think on it. 1) What are you wearing? White t-shirt with a semi-lewd message -- “put the fun between your legs” -- and a drawing of a bicycle on the front in red ink (the shirt was Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1101692906930710172004-11-28T17:46:00.000-08:002004-11-28T17:48:26.930-08:00It’s the Sunday Seven. Deal with it. 1) What are you wearing? Brown t-shirt that says across the front in white and orange letters “Pasadena Diamond Killers, ‘62 All-City League Champs.” (Yes, yes, I know these pseudo-retro shirts from the Old Coast Guard store are tacky, but this one is BROWN; how many BROWN t-shirts have you ever seen? I couldn’t resist.) Blue Levi’s, white Nike sox, Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1101062600525633422004-11-21T10:39:00.000-08:002004-11-21T10:43:20.526-08:00Yeah, it’s the Sunday Seven. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. This is a free country, more or less. Assuming you’re not perusing Writeright from Sweden, or some semi-socialist place like that, where taxes are so high it’s a very expensive country. 1) What are you wearing? Black t-shirt with red circle on the front bearing the words “Mind The Gap” and “London, England” (bought last August Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1100634485145024332004-11-16T11:45:00.000-08:002004-11-16T17:54:46.253-08:00 I read in this morning’s newspaper that semi-skinny movie actress Uma Thurman, of “Pulp Fiction” fame, “keeps her food intake down by eating in the nude.” My wife, Cookie Jean, leads two Weight Watchers groups, so I pointed out to her this bit of weight-control wisdom. “How would that work?” she asked, scrunching up her nose. “Well,” I replied, “I suppose if you could see all your jiggles Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1100460900529205912004-11-14T11:29:00.000-08:002004-11-16T18:05:50.743-08:00Still lazy. Still the Sunday Seven. 1) What are you wearing? Gray t-shirt with a red, white & blue logo that identifies me as a 2004 participant in National Novel Writing Month (“So Many Words, So Little Time,” says the lettering in the middle of the logo; I’ve generated 13,957 words of a 50,000-word novel I have pledged to complete by the end of November; that’s why I’m blogging -- it’s a way Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1099875088946407132004-11-07T16:47:00.000-08:002004-11-07T16:51:28.946-08:00Okay, I admit it. Posting the Sunday Seven is the lazy man’s way to blog. But better lazy than inert, right? So -- 1) What are you wearing? White sweatshirt with New York Mets logo in orange and blue (souvenir of a cold ballgame at Shea Stadium a dozen years ago or so); blue jeans, sweat boots, white Nike sox, a gold chain on my computer glasses so I can let them dangle from my neck if I take Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1099354873678780742004-11-01T15:47:00.000-08:002004-11-01T16:21:13.680-08:00Hey! I'm writing a new novel! I don't have much time to blab right now because I signed up to participate in National Novel Writing Month, which began today, and I am already 1,667 words behind pace if I am going to meet the goal of writing a 50,000-word novel by the end of November. You've heard about NaNoWriMo, right? If not, go to www.nanowrimo.org and read all about it. There is still time Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1099242996835714002004-10-31T09:13:00.000-08:002004-10-31T09:16:36.836-08:00For seven days hath Peoria Dave labored mightily without producing a post on Writeright. Yet, lo! Here beith one! The Sunday Seven, no less. How appropriate. Peoria Dave worketh in mysterious ways, my people. 1) What are you wearing? Fleece sweatshirt splattered with blue paint from a fix-up project at the Little League ballpark years ago (my job was to paint the dugouts; I was told the Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1098642522704082832004-10-24T11:25:00.000-07:002004-10-24T11:28:42.706-07:00It’s been seven months since ol’ Peoria Dave last posted a Sunday Seven, so -- here’s a new one! Read it and sleep. 1) What are you wearing? Red sweatshirt with “Nebraska” printed across the front in white (this is the first football season since forever I can wear my Nebraska gear and not feel like a bully; that’s what losing by scores like 70 to 10 does to a team's image; I consider Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1098567026830985542004-10-23T13:59:00.000-07:002004-10-23T14:57:26.213-07:00So this contractor-type guy who did some work for us a while back calls up and wants my wife, Cookie Jean, to bake a pecan pie. She runs a dessert-catering business, My Friend Jean's, out of our kitchen. The contractor-type says he and his wife have been fantasizing about pecan pie for weeks. He's decided to spring for one. Okay, says Cookie Jean. It'll cost 20 bucks. No problem, says the guy. Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1098514671309628352004-10-22T23:29:00.000-07:002004-10-23T00:09:30.646-07:00Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? (Tap, tap, tap.) It's been so long, I thought mebbe Writeright didn't work any more. It does work, apparently, although in the many moons since I last posted Blogger has completly changed its system, so I am struggling to figure out how to write and upload this screed. It's a test, of sorts. Let's see, where was I? Did I tell you I am dancing on the grave of the Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1084294001032655612004-05-11T09:44:00.000-07:002004-05-11T09:46:41.033-07:00To me, poetry is somebody standing up, so to speak, and saying, with as little concealment as possible, what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment. --Galway KinnellDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1082822137110907302004-04-24T08:46:00.000-07:002004-04-24T18:33:19.310-07:00 Well, so much for a daily diary. The idea was to warm up for each day’s writing by tapping out some stuff on Writeright, but I didn’t do that for the last couple of days, probably because I didn’t WRITE anything, except for a checks to pay bills. I shouldn’t be too hard on myself, I guess, because I did spend time on a writing project -- reading a couple of classic stories for background and Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1082575684760326722004-04-21T12:21:00.000-07:002004-04-21T12:42:01.856-07:00 Ah, today’s diary entry. Where did I leave off in yesterday’s account of life’s hilarity? Oh, yes. Well, we ate dinner at home (frozen Mexican food for Andy and me, something skinnifying for Cookie Jean) and went over to the Ds’ for dessert because Mrs. D was celebrating her 35th birthday. The young punk. Or punkette, as the case may be. Then home with the Droidman piloting our Volvo, with aDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1082504320367785392004-04-20T16:38:00.000-07:002004-04-20T22:12:27.216-07:00 Ol’ Writeright has been dark for so many days now, I sort of wonder if anyone will ever see these words as I crank up again, but -- maybe that’s not the point. I’ve decided to change the focus of Writeright, at least for the moment. I read a screed somewhere the other day about the difference between a journal and a diary. As I recall, the author was maintaining that a journal is a series of Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1079329034045114722004-03-14T21:35:00.000-08:002004-03-14T21:42:55.966-08:00There are, as we all know, Seven Heavenly Virtues: faith, hope, charity, fortitude, justice, temperance and reading Peoria Dave’s Sunday Seven. Failure to read the Sunday Seven would not be prudent. 1) What are you wearing? Gray long-sleeve pullover shirt, white t-shirt, blue jeans, white Nike socks, sweat boots. 2) What are you reading? Still plugging away on “Leviathan,” a novel by Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1079069275191714652004-03-11T21:26:00.000-08:002004-03-11T21:31:01.496-08:00Hail to the Cheesemakers! Tillamook High School is making news in Oregon sports this week, sending both its boys’ and girls’ basketball teams into state tournaments ranked number one. It’s appropriate, since the Cheesemakers also have the number one nickname for high school athletic teams in Oregon, according to a local expert -- me. Tillamook’s boys won the state 3A title last year, so they’veDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1078723157849101942004-03-07T21:19:00.000-08:002004-03-07T21:25:58.186-08:00I once worked with a guy named Richard Seven. Last I heard, he lit out for Seattle to become rich and famous in the newspaper biz. I wonder what became of him. Maybe he went on to pen the famous Sunday Seven questions, which once again get answered below. Doubt if it made Richard rich, though. Probably made him dick. 1) What are you wearing? Black sweatsuit with blue and white trim (I ran threeDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1078534505632022262004-03-05T16:53:00.000-08:002004-03-05T17:02:17.436-08:00Mr. Black & Blue offers advice to the lifelorn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: I have been dating “Richard” since I was 13 and he was 14. We are now 27 and 28, and we have three children. Like any couple, we’ve had our ups and downs -- he also has four children by other women Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1078346219316721582004-03-03T12:36:00.000-08:002004-03-03T12:44:06.280-08:00After watching the Academy Awards show the other night, my 16-year-old son allowed as how he’d like to make a movie himself. It would be a remake of “You’ve Got Mail,” Andy said, starring Marlon Brando and Katharine Hepburn instead of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. That bit of recasting might be a bit difficult to pull off, since Hepburn died last year (I guess the retrospective on her career during Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1078082921200895712004-02-29T11:28:00.000-08:002004-02-29T11:31:32.403-08:00It’s Jordan, David Jordan. Special agent 00Sunday7. Read what appears below, then forget you ever saw it. Walk away quickly. Do not look back. You will be contacted again in one week. 1) What are you wearing? Purple Kansas State University sweatshirt, blue jeans, white Nike sox, sweat boots, a slight frown. 2) What are you reading? “As Cool As I Am,” a novel by Montana man Pete Fromm. It won Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077930422060399382004-02-27T17:04:00.000-08:002004-02-27T17:17:49.466-08:00I went surfing on the internet to find information about hobbies for something I was trying to write, and I was startled by the range of activities people identify as a hobby. Cloud watching is a hobby? You can buy books about clouds to help you identify which types you are seeing. Bell ringing is a hobby? You can buy sets of little hand bells to ring in sequence and play songs. There are sitesDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077826090678337632004-02-26T12:08:00.000-08:002004-02-26T12:10:58.153-08:00Hey! Check it out! One of my poems was posted on the internet today by an electronic magazine called The Fossil Record. The address is www.thefossil.com My poem is entry #41 on the site. Titled "Feeding the Monster," it's about a strange machine I encountered a couple of years ago in the tiny northeast Oregon town of Sumpter while passing through on the Oregon Bike Ride.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077689355721770932004-02-24T22:09:00.000-08:002004-02-24T22:12:01.076-08:00Champagne on Strawberries Walking Harvard Square in cold, bright October light, I find myself trailing a tall woman in a dress of blinding red. Blonde hair pours on shimmering shoulders like champagne on strawberries. She is angular, high-hipped, maybe a Vogue model come to Boston for a shoot, out to see how the Crimson live, all dolled up in a dress to suit the occasion. Her black, Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077590700984458472004-02-23T18:45:00.000-08:002004-02-23T18:47:44.326-08:00Mr. Black & Blue offers advice to the lifelorn. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: When “Stan” and I got married 23 years ago, I kept my maiden name. He objected at the time, but I told him I wanted to keep the name I was born with. If he wanted us to share a last name, he should change his Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077480634705599592004-02-22T12:09:00.000-08:002004-02-22T12:13:16.840-08:00For your existential crossword puzzle, the hint for 7 down is . . . churchday words from Peoria Dave. [Answer at bottom.] 1) What are you wearing? Gray Mickey Mouse sweatshirt with blue hood (inherited from my wife, who purchased it during a cold snap at Disneyworld); beige Eeyore t-shirt (brought to me from Disneyland by my sons); blue Levi’s jeans; black socks; black Florsheim loafers I Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077173168672815582004-02-18T22:45:00.000-08:002004-02-19T09:54:43.733-08:00Did you know that Alexander Graham Bell, the man who invented the telephone, refused to have a phone in his study or at his winter home in Florida? Reminds me of Joseph Guillotin, the 18th Century French doctor who devised the guillotine. He was reluctant to use his invention, too.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1077081335545972932004-02-17T21:15:00.000-08:002004-02-17T21:18:42.000-08:00Which nightmare do you have? The one where you just discovered you have a final exam in ten minutes for a class you didn’t even know you were taking? The one where you go to work naked and everyone else shows up clothed? The one where there is a nuclear war and you have to rescue everyone you love by leading them through the woods to safety? The one where your mother is lurking in a shadowy Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076990227432288232004-02-16T19:56:00.000-08:002004-02-16T19:59:41.450-08:00 What is it with these people who leave sacks of dog crap in front of my house? I live on a street with a grassy, tree-lined median down the middle, and people come from all over the neighborhood to walk their dogs on it. That’s okay, I guess, to a point. One of the reasons we moved here is because we got a kick out of watching the neighbors parading up and down. (It’s sort of like observing Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076874352018533382004-02-15T11:44:00.000-08:002004-02-15T19:19:13.966-08:00Did you know the Seven Deadly Sins are pride, lust, envy, anger, greed, gluttony and failure to read the Sunday Seven? Be without sin. Read on. 1) What are you wearing? Black turtleneck Grant Union High School baseball jersey (in honor of spring training beginning this week), white t-shirt with drawings of a left-handed pitcher on the front, blue Levis jeans, white Nike sox, sweatboots. 2) Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076807543811414022004-02-14T17:08:00.000-08:002004-02-14T17:14:55.686-08:00I was sitting through “Sleepless in Seattle” on television for the second time in less than 24 hours this morning when my wife, Cookie Jean, walked into the den. “You’re watching this AGAIN?” she said. I just shrugged and waited for her to leave the room so I could concentrate on Tom Hanks’s magic “first touch” of a woman’s hand and Meg Ryan’s obsession with a widower she’s only encountered as Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076700264931545532004-02-13T11:23:00.000-08:002004-02-13T11:26:56.200-08:00Mr. Black & Blue offers advice to the lifelorn. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: I have been married for two years to a terrific woman, but we have not consummated our marriage. She insists on living with her mother, who told her all kinds of bad things about men and sex as she was growing up. I feel like I’m Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076605053604891872004-02-12T08:57:00.000-08:002004-02-12T09:02:57.950-08:00So Dear Abby prints a letter from some lady asking how to recycle her dead husband’s neckties. Readers respond with a number of ideas. One teen-aged girl uses old ties as belts. Another made a prom dress by stitching several ties together. Some church ladies converted ties into an altar cloth for a Father’s Day service. This is all well and good, I suppose, but how about some REALLY creative Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076524561436677142004-02-11T10:36:00.000-08:002004-02-11T10:41:21.106-08:00I was hanging around the service department of a car dealer the other day when I spotted the piece of writing below hanging on a wall near the cash register. It seemed to address interesting contemporary business issues, so I thought I would share it with Writeright's many business-oriented readers: Dead Horse Wisdom Tribal wisdom of the Dakota Indians, passed on from one generation to the Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076455859377368252004-02-10T15:30:00.000-08:002004-02-10T15:33:25.500-08:00 Peoria Dave knew there was a reason he should move to Miami, and singer Sting pinpointed it the other day when he told a concert crowd in the tropical Florida city: “What I like about this town is that everyone looks as if they just had sex, are about to have sex or are having sex.”Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076270502483760572004-02-08T12:00:00.000-08:002004-02-08T12:04:06.140-08:00Did you know that one of the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People is reading Peoria Dave’s Sunday Seven? Be effective. Go ahead, I dare you. 1) What are you wearing? Purple Kansas State University sweatshirt, lime green t-shirt, blue Levis jeans, white Nike sox, sweatboots, small but painful cut on right thumb. 2) What are you reading? “Laura,” a novel by Larry Watson. (Obsessive love, Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076220022570673612004-02-07T22:00:00.000-08:002004-02-08T12:09:01.780-08:00 For those few faithful souls who glance at Writeright now and again to see if I have posted anything new, I apologize. I can’t seem to stay motivated to write new stuff for the blog. I’m afraid it’s another example of a recurring but curious trend in my life. Every ongoing activity I commit myself to eventually becomes a burden, it seems. That happened with writing a newspaper column, whichDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1076138883679272082004-02-06T23:27:00.000-08:002004-02-06T23:32:12.360-08:00"Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out." -- Anton Chekhov Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1074577793756087752004-01-19T21:49:00.000-08:002004-01-19T21:56:02.780-08:00 Man, talk about a tough couple of days! The local newspaper had a story this morning about this 37-year-old Medford dude, Stephen Albert McCallister, who got lost last Thursday while snowboarding on Mount Ashland in southern Oregon. He wandered through snowy forests for two days before turning up on the outskirts of the city of Ashland Saturday morning. An ambulance took him to a hospital inDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1074452992977347892004-01-18T11:09:00.000-08:002004-01-18T11:11:48.733-08:00It’s “Sunday Se7en,” starring Brad Pitt as Peoria Dave and Gwyneth Paltrow as Cookie Jean. 1) What are you wearing? Black, white and red flannel pajama pants, black sweatshirt, white sox with a black Nike swoosh, fur-lined houseboots. 2) What are you reading? “Cat’s Eye,” a novel by Margaret Atwood. (Are little girls really like that?) 3) What’s for dinner? We’ve had take-out two nights inDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1074406645387968552004-01-17T22:14:00.000-08:002004-01-17T22:19:20.326-08:00Department of Extreme Irony (Or, I Laughed My Butt Off): Olivia Goldsmith, a novelist whose debut book, “The First Wives Club,” became a bestselling fantasy for ex-wives tossed aside in favor of younger women, died Thursday in New York of complications from plastic surgery. She was 54. Goldsmith had been in a coma since suffering a heart attack Jan. 7 as she went under anestheisa for an Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1074190909552875772004-01-15T10:07:00.000-08:002004-01-15T10:23:41.246-08:00 Took my three sons to hear Billy Collins, former poet laureate of the United States, speak and read his poems in Portland last night. Afterwards, the 15-year-old said Collins “never seemed to deal with anything very meaningful.” The 23-year-old said “I passed out of my Collins phase a while back, so my mind kind of wandered -- I had trouble staying with him from line to line.” The 20-year-old Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1073457049046297332004-01-06T22:30:00.000-08:002004-01-06T22:58:47.733-08:00TOP 30 REASONS PEORIA DAVE NEEDS TO GET THE HELL OUT OF OREGON: 30. Ex-Californians have bought all the houses 29. Johnnie Ray born in Dallas, Oregon 28. Fear of meeting a Portland Trailblazer in a dark alley 27. State animal is the banana slug 26. Bill Sizemore 25. My anti-depression light therapy lamp broke 24. No major studio to record my new CD, “Peoria Dave Sings Andrew Lloyd Webber"Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1073338373642680722004-01-05T13:32:00.000-08:002004-01-06T23:02:18.623-08:00Here are my New Year’s resolutions for 2004: 1) Don’t procrastinate. 2) Meet all deadlines. 3) Be on time for all holiday events, special occasions and . . . What? I already violated my New Year’s resolutions by waiting until Jan. 5 to create them? Well, to hell with it then. I’ll write something else tomorrow. Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1072318014279181992003-12-24T18:06:00.000-08:002004-01-05T09:54:21.326-08:00I stole a Christmas tree once. I was 23, working in the Chicago bureau of a national newspaper, living with my wife and 2-year-old daughter in an apartment in the western suburbs. My wife and I were both kids from Oregon, a couple of rubes come to the big city to seek our fortune. We settled in the suburbs because neither of us, accustomed to towering trees and misty mountains, could imagine Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1072233682330914842003-12-23T18:41:00.000-08:002003-12-23T18:42:43.810-08:00Dear Dawn, For the first time since your death in 1982, I am unable this year to place a gift on your grave. I bought one, a little avant garde Christmas tree with four ornaments that say Dawn, Dad, Merry Christmas and You Are Loved. I even carried the tree with me on a trip to Bend last week, but I didn’t make it to the cemetery. The trip was a hurried, one-night business affair, and the hurryDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1072141794242102882003-12-22T17:08:00.000-08:002003-12-23T18:50:49.263-08:00Mr. Black & Blue once again offers advice to the lifelorn. --------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: I am twenty-five years old, intelligent, charming, tall, good-looking, well-dressed and profitably employed. So why can't I score with the opposite sex? I asked a female friend, and she said: "You scare women your age. They think, 'Oh, wow, the only way this guy would be with me is if Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1071807170789095652003-12-18T20:11:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:15:15.360-08:00"To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost." -- Gustave Flaubert Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1070843923745521572003-12-07T16:37:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:27:35.920-08:00It's seven on the seventh. How about that? The Sunday Seven questions, that is, on the seventh of December. Sixty-two years ago today -- Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941 -- my father, a Coast Guard sailor, survived the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. Probably slept through it after staying up all Saturday night losing at poker and swilling jungle juice. That was his approach to life, pretty much. 1Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1070736099232327512003-12-06T10:40:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:32:49.733-08:00Mr. Black & Blue once again offers advice to the lifelorn. --------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: I am a 48-year-old woman who has been married for 24 years and has two children. A few days ago, a female friend gave me this little quiz question. For me, life without sex would be like life without . . . a) oxygen b) music c) pancakes d) gum surgery I told her my answer would be Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1069783115190797042003-11-25T09:58:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:36:02.843-08:00 And now -- the gargantuazation of America! Evidence is all over the place. I was watching a college basketball game the other night and one of the players was listed as 6-foot-10 and 350 pounds. He was a sub, because hauling all that size up and down the court wore him out in a matter of minutes. I read a story about the football team at Marist High School in Eugene, Oregon. It starts a 6Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1069614240704291812003-11-23T11:04:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:41:10.420-08:00Hey, hey, we're The Seven, People say we clown around, Hey, hey, we're The Seven, Sunday Seven comin' to your town. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1) What are you wearing? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Picture it. I'm sitting in front of the computer stark naked. Kind of scary, huh? (Actually, I'm wearing clothes,Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1069562629016541542003-11-22T20:41:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:46:26.623-08:00Time to answer my fan mail. ---------- Dear Dave, I read with interest your piece about convicted cereal killer Berwin K. Hooff. One question: What does the K stand for? Buckley Codd Thousand Oaks, California It stands for Knute. The killer's full name is Berwin Knute Hooff. ---------- Mr. Jordan: I think you owe it to your loyal readers (both of us) to reveal the identity of your advice Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1069468247647220932003-11-21T18:30:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:49:55.200-08:00 My son Joe and I were sitting around pontificating about politics, and he observed that Howard Dean seems more and more to be a "legitimate" candidate for the Democratic presidential nomination in 2004. I agreed, but remarked that it seemed odd Democrats weren't able to come up with someone jazzier than an obscure ex-governor of Vermont to challenge incumbent George W. Bush, given the Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1069202953566673392003-11-18T16:49:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:53:25.746-08:00Mr. Black & Blue offers advice to the lifelorn. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: I am an 18-year-old girl, smart, energetic and reasonably pretty. My problem is, boys have no interest in me. I thought this might change when I went away to college, but it hasn't. My roommate, who has boys askDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1069015528362498152003-11-16T12:41:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:56:29.310-08:00It's seven come eleven. I'm answering the Sunday Seven in the eleventh month, November. Isn't that ironic? 1) What are you wearing? Maroon fleece sweatshirt (as Bugs Bunny once said of Daffy Duck: "What a maroon!"); black Bialystock & Bloom t-shirt, a souvenir of seeing "The Producers" on Broadway (Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick are returning to the play early next year -- see them while Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068743782143363422003-11-13T09:16:00.000-08:002003-12-18T20:57:41.466-08:00 Ah, it is a sad time. Stubby Clapp, my favorite baseball player (based solely on the wonderfulness of his name), was released this week by the Atlanta Braves. Stubby made it to The Bigs for part of the 2001 season with St. Louis, but wound up spending 2003 with Atlanta's AAA farm team in Richmond. He managed to bat a resounding .217. There is some hope that we'll see the name Stubby Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068696944615586252003-11-12T20:15:00.000-08:002003-11-19T07:52:44.903-08:00 I posted a semi-lighthearted screed on Writeright the other day about writing being an addiction, and that got me to thinking about writers and addictive personalities. Many of the former seem to have the latter. Look at American winners of the Nobel Prize in literature. Sinclair Lewis was a mean drunk. So was Eugene O’Neill. William Faulkner was the epitome of the Southern gentleman lush, Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068418342517650182003-11-09T14:50:00.000-08:002003-11-09T14:57:00.543-08:00Seven, I'm in Seven, My heart beats so that I can hardly speak, And I seem to find the happiness I seek Answering the Sunday Seven cheek to cheek. 1) What are you wearing? Gray University of Oregon sweatshirt (I can can be seen in it without embarrassment, for a change, because the Ducks actually won a football game yesterday); gray Lowe Tech t-shirt (Get Fuzzy!); blue Levi’s jeans; my Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068353426567847752003-11-08T20:49:00.000-08:002003-11-08T20:52:31.280-08:00Mr. Black & Blue once again offers advice to the lifelorn. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: What should a person say when a co-worker, someone you see frequently but don’t know very well, reveals plans to divorce? I usually try to say something like “I’m sorry” or “this must be a toughDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068228018007397892003-11-07T10:00:00.000-08:002003-11-07T10:02:45.186-08:00 The Case of Rosie O’Donnell speaks volumes about social trends in America over the last three decades or so. First, you’ve got women’s lib -- O’Donnell was one of the first female stand-up comics to hit it big. Then you’ve got spin-doctoring and image-peddling. When I first started seeing O’Donnell doing stand-up on cable TV back in the 1980s, she was funny but she was harsh, sometimes crudeDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068102166901780312003-11-05T23:02:00.000-08:002003-11-05T23:24:52.420-08:00 Are you ready to unleash the power of mediocrity? I received a catalogue in the mail that poses the above question on its first page. It came from a Texas company that calls itself Despair, Inc. The Austin-based outfit sells business supplies it calls demotivational products. Finally, a firm that caters to thinkers like me! “No matter who you are, you have the potential to be so very much Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1068007850267414842003-11-04T20:50:00.000-08:002003-11-05T23:26:32.716-08:00 Writeright, through the efforts of its ace reporter, Peoria Dave, has obtained the first interview with convicted cereal killer Berwin K. Hooff, who was sentenced last month to 37 life terms in prison, to be served consecutively, for murders of cereals up and down Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Hooff spoke with Peoria Dave spoke in the maximum security unit of the Oregon State Penitentiary at Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1067817434333602862003-11-02T15:56:00.000-08:002003-11-02T15:57:27.483-08:00Say, what? Say, it’s the Sunday Seven! 1) What are you wearing? Red, green and blue plaid fleece sweatshirt (it’s fargin’ cold, folks!), raggedy green Pomona College souvenir t-shirt; blue Levi’s; white cotton socks (no shoes because I just woke up from a nap on the couch). 2) What are you reading? “The Magic Barrel,” a book of short stories by Bernard Malamud. 3) What’s for dinner? Maybe Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1067490026335322032003-10-29T20:56:00.000-08:002003-10-29T21:01:26.216-08:00Ends and odds from the wandering mind of Peoria Dave. ---------------------- Here’s another reason to avoid soccer, as if anybody really needed one. Two women, ages 48 and 40, were sentenced Monday on disorderly conduct charges stemming from streaking naked onto the field during a Women’s World Cup semifinal soccer game at PGE Park in my hometown, Portland, Oregon. Connie B. Durkee and Meg H.Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1067317028168823692003-10-27T20:55:00.000-08:002003-10-27T20:57:13.733-08:00Mr. Black & Blue offers more advice to the lifeforn. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- DEAR MR. BLACK & BLUE: My husband of 32 years, “Arnie,” recently informed me he has re-established contact with a girl he has loved since they were teenagers. When he went into the Army, “Irene” married another guy and Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1067191516859748872003-10-26T10:01:00.000-08:002003-10-26T10:05:21.200-08:00The Sunday Seven slog into sight. 1) What are you wearing? My dyslexic baseball jersey. It’s Peoria Dave’s current favorite piece of attire. I bought it at a t-shirt shop in downtown John Day last August, during an off day of the Oregon Bike Ride. It’s a black, long-sleeved, faux turtleneck uniform shirt made for a member of the Grant Union High School Prospectors baseball team. Across the backDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1067101473553738732003-10-25T10:04:00.000-07:002003-10-25T10:04:36.530-07:00 My pal Ray (Slice & Dice) Cutter came calling yesterday. “I met this boy, this teen-ager type, who is organizing a club for his high school,” Ray reported. “It’s a writing club, for kids who want to be writers. Know what he’s calling it? Writers Anonymous. “Is that great, or what? This kid has his head on straight. He knows writing is an addiction and it needs to be treated like one, same asDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3900084.post-1067051413222195822003-10-24T20:09:00.000-07:002003-10-24T20:10:15.356-07:00"Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence." --H. L. Mencken Davidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10662453703251184630noreply@blogger.com