things you can do with your fridge

carrots1

So I’m sitting there, thinking about my underwear. A few steps away is a giant chess board and a hot tub. In the evening I will be served large quantities chocolate cake, along with ice cream, for free. But it is about my underwear that I am thinking, when I finally ask myself: What’s the point? What’s the point of wearing a pair of underpants that are as much air as fabric? Underpants crowned with an elastic band that hangs off the fabric as limp as any one of you passed out on the toilet? HOW DO THEY EVEN STAY ON?

Static electricity, I assume, and in this sense, my underpants were a tiny daily miracle. Perfect static cling aside, the garment (recently washed (!)) was not dry when I was ready to leave, and so into the trash they went. One less pair of underwear to stick to my bum. It’s a cold train, to be sure. Everything must be worth its volume and weight. That’s why all those glass stones got abandoned in Spain.

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BOOKHUNT: Telepathic Spiders from Space

Without constraints I can spend hours in a good used bookstore. Without constraints, I could probably live in one.

But on any given occasion you will eventually need to eat, or go to the bathroom, go to work, or go to class.  And if you’re with people? They won’t want to stay as long. Not as long as me.

Then there is the matter of ‘opening hours’… Don’t think I never thought of turning into a mouse and sticking around after closing.

And so one day, well over a decade ago, I was out with a bunch of friends and we stopped in at one of those bookstores that had more books than shelving space. One of those wonderful places where, at the time, not everything was in order. Things were scattered, and piled, and everywhere.

There is no better place than to dig for treasure.

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Car Free Day a less Care-Free Day when there are Big Fucking Guns on the street

Semi-Automatic Rifles were present on Commercial Drive on Car Free Day.  They made a lot of people uncomfortable.  What was the point?

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Visual Riddles: Iceland

can of beer in the snow
This was being storeed by some trusting citizen on the curb of the parking lot at the public pool. I suspect someone was really looking forward to cracking it open as soon as they got out of the hot tub.

In Húsavík, it wasn’t uncommon to see a full can of beer half-buried in the snow.  You might wonder: why not use the fridge? but sometimes it’s too far away, and it’s easier to just pick up your beer on the way to wherever you plan to drink it (apparently).

It’s a practice I’m sure most people wouldn’t dream of adopting in a larger town.  Or in a town with teenagers.

Which, now that I think of it, I don’t think I saw any.  Just little kids and grown-ups.  How strange…