Saturday, November 20, 2004
Bring out the Knives
Madness.
16 hour shift on Wednesday, 11 hour split on Friday, I'm about to go in again. Luckily, the kitchen chemistry is good. I love the kitchen, and being the literarily-minded person I am, I also love the book Down and Out in Paris and London, by George Orwell--it has a lot of interesting things to say regarding kitchen exchanges--and also provides some interesting counter-points to those who say Orwell was politically in line with the Neo-conservative agenda. Print it out, read it. It's a good book, and'll give you lots of insight into precisely why you shouldn't be overly alarmed at the blood-curdling scream or the clatter of smashed dishes emanating from the kitchen of your favorite restaurant.
Juergen, my boss at present, is trying his hardest to school me on the proper use of knives. I'm sure there are poetic metaphors to be had in that direction, so I'm listening. Plus, good knife-work stands a better chance of getting you a decent kitchen job than a spotless CV. More on that, later. Still working on faith, and it will be forthcoming. For now, I'm working every day of the week, trying to arrange an interview for the zine (among other duties), awaiting word on the PhD proposal, and moving house by November 30th. A full schedule. But I think in those spaces of time given me, and more words will be forthcoming.
However, the main reason I wanted to post is because I really, really agree with the substance of this frivolous lawsuit. I'd say that over half of that trauma I experienced in high school is directly attributable to this game. Largely because I wasn't clever enough to figure out how to get a mate, lob the balls at each other, catch each other's throw, and be called out of the game--at which point we could retire to the bench and discuss matters that passed for philosophical in those days...and even if what passed for philosophy was an in-depth discussion regarding whether Prince or Michael Jackson was the better musician, it came a whole helluva lot closer to what we were supposed to be doing in school than what was going on in gym. Kill the game, I say. Or at least let those who hate it opt the hell out.
I'm off to another fun-filled evening at the Twisted Bavarian...hope all of you are faring well on your own respective fronts.
Tschuss and out...tchitch
16 hour shift on Wednesday, 11 hour split on Friday, I'm about to go in again. Luckily, the kitchen chemistry is good. I love the kitchen, and being the literarily-minded person I am, I also love the book Down and Out in Paris and London, by George Orwell--it has a lot of interesting things to say regarding kitchen exchanges--and also provides some interesting counter-points to those who say Orwell was politically in line with the Neo-conservative agenda. Print it out, read it. It's a good book, and'll give you lots of insight into precisely why you shouldn't be overly alarmed at the blood-curdling scream or the clatter of smashed dishes emanating from the kitchen of your favorite restaurant.
Juergen, my boss at present, is trying his hardest to school me on the proper use of knives. I'm sure there are poetic metaphors to be had in that direction, so I'm listening. Plus, good knife-work stands a better chance of getting you a decent kitchen job than a spotless CV. More on that, later. Still working on faith, and it will be forthcoming. For now, I'm working every day of the week, trying to arrange an interview for the zine (among other duties), awaiting word on the PhD proposal, and moving house by November 30th. A full schedule. But I think in those spaces of time given me, and more words will be forthcoming.
However, the main reason I wanted to post is because I really, really agree with the substance of this frivolous lawsuit. I'd say that over half of that trauma I experienced in high school is directly attributable to this game. Largely because I wasn't clever enough to figure out how to get a mate, lob the balls at each other, catch each other's throw, and be called out of the game--at which point we could retire to the bench and discuss matters that passed for philosophical in those days...and even if what passed for philosophy was an in-depth discussion regarding whether Prince or Michael Jackson was the better musician, it came a whole helluva lot closer to what we were supposed to be doing in school than what was going on in gym. Kill the game, I say. Or at least let those who hate it opt the hell out.
I'm off to another fun-filled evening at the Twisted Bavarian...hope all of you are faring well on your own respective fronts.
Tschuss and out...tchitch
# posted by Gene Justice @ 11:17 PM 
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