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MUNDANE TALES
Jan. 11th, 2008 02:37 amThat sounds like it could have been the name of a singularly unsuccessful pulp magazine from the 1940s or such: "Mundane Tales." The cover art would depict some virile Doc Savage/Shadow type doing stuff like folding laundry or checking tire pressure and would be painted by Norman Rockwell or, for the comics fans among my f-list, the late Kurt Schaffenburger (or perhaps George Papp).
Mundane Tale #1: A Hair-Raising Tale. Today I had some six to seven inches or so lopped off my head. Inches of hair, silly, not scalp or gray matter. I really had no intention to wait so long -- must have been six months or so -- between haircuts; until today I looked more or less like I do in my snarlin'-Celt icon, a look that only really works for me when I'm in snarlin'-Celt mode. Fact is, I really don't like my hair overly long -- it gets in my face and so forth, and, quite frankly, I don't have the time or the patience to devote to the grooming that maintaining a long hairstyle requires. I'm the sort who doesn't like it to take more than 20-30 seconds to comb my hair. I rather like the way it looks now, nice and short and low-maintenance. Heh, my barber always gets excited when I visit, because I present a challenge. *smiles* Though probably not much of one, since he's been at it for more than half a century. He told me today he's been cutting hair at his South Main shop for 55 years as of today, which makes him the second-oldest business in Canandaigua after Canandaigua National Bank (and first-oldest as far as owning the business himself, of course). I try to imagine what it must have been like, cutting hair every day from 1953 on -- early in the Eisenhower administration -- watching the world go by and change and morph and shift outside the storefront window; seeing everything from auto make/models to hemlines to social mores undergo their changes. Granted, most change is imperceptable and atomistic; one day is much like the other but for a small morph. A couple thousand morphs later, though, you have a different world.
Mundane Tale #2: Bleah. I wouldn't exactly say I'm sick -- but I've been sneezing and wheezing and sniffling and, uh, something that rhymes with "sniffling" but can't think of. I much prefer head colds to gastrointestinal nightmarishness like that of early December (you may recall my use of the term "explosive quease"), yet they remain annoying.
Mundane Tale #3: Um, OK. Went to Rite-Aid today to pick up a prescription for my mother and pick up some decongestant tabs for me. I approached the cash register and observed that the cashier had a big strip of duct tape stuck to his forehead. I inwardly determined not to ask why the cashier had a big strip of duct tape stuck to his forehead, but he told me anyway: "It's really good for getting rid of dead skin." He then proceeded to remove the tape, and apparently the skin, with accompanying grimaces, winces and muted cries of discomfort.
Strangely enough, he's one of my all-time favorite retail cashiers.
Mundane Tale #4: Much yay. In a move that no doubt was not enacted solely for my convenience and ease but contributes to same nonetheless, my primary comics dealer and his colleague have moved their shop from Macedon (a 20-minute drive away) to downtown Canandaigua (a 2-3 minute drive, or a 15-minute pleasant walk on a nice day). Which means that I might visit each week rather than letting a month elapse during my busy weeks (and icy weeks) while my pull-bag balloons. I like their new name: They've changed from Lost Worlds to Pulp Nouveau. Heh, after they'd leased the space, they put a coming-soon sign up for Pulp Nouveau COMICS ... and according to a neighboring merchant who was visiting the shop yesterday when I was there, a number of excited folks thought it was going to be a stand-up comedy nightclub. Heh.
No further Mundane Tales to tell. Everybody eat your vegetables.
Words: League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill (with nods to everyone from Shakespeare to Orwell to Stoker to Fleming). Heh, Moore/O'Neill's LOEG is essentially fanfic of a sort -- fanfic to everything ever written.
Sounds & Images: What a Day by Phil Keaggy
State O'Mind: Mundane
Mundane Tale #1: A Hair-Raising Tale. Today I had some six to seven inches or so lopped off my head. Inches of hair, silly, not scalp or gray matter. I really had no intention to wait so long -- must have been six months or so -- between haircuts; until today I looked more or less like I do in my snarlin'-Celt icon, a look that only really works for me when I'm in snarlin'-Celt mode. Fact is, I really don't like my hair overly long -- it gets in my face and so forth, and, quite frankly, I don't have the time or the patience to devote to the grooming that maintaining a long hairstyle requires. I'm the sort who doesn't like it to take more than 20-30 seconds to comb my hair. I rather like the way it looks now, nice and short and low-maintenance. Heh, my barber always gets excited when I visit, because I present a challenge. *smiles* Though probably not much of one, since he's been at it for more than half a century. He told me today he's been cutting hair at his South Main shop for 55 years as of today, which makes him the second-oldest business in Canandaigua after Canandaigua National Bank (and first-oldest as far as owning the business himself, of course). I try to imagine what it must have been like, cutting hair every day from 1953 on -- early in the Eisenhower administration -- watching the world go by and change and morph and shift outside the storefront window; seeing everything from auto make/models to hemlines to social mores undergo their changes. Granted, most change is imperceptable and atomistic; one day is much like the other but for a small morph. A couple thousand morphs later, though, you have a different world.
Mundane Tale #2: Bleah. I wouldn't exactly say I'm sick -- but I've been sneezing and wheezing and sniffling and, uh, something that rhymes with "sniffling" but can't think of. I much prefer head colds to gastrointestinal nightmarishness like that of early December (you may recall my use of the term "explosive quease"), yet they remain annoying.
Mundane Tale #3: Um, OK. Went to Rite-Aid today to pick up a prescription for my mother and pick up some decongestant tabs for me. I approached the cash register and observed that the cashier had a big strip of duct tape stuck to his forehead. I inwardly determined not to ask why the cashier had a big strip of duct tape stuck to his forehead, but he told me anyway: "It's really good for getting rid of dead skin." He then proceeded to remove the tape, and apparently the skin, with accompanying grimaces, winces and muted cries of discomfort.
Strangely enough, he's one of my all-time favorite retail cashiers.
Mundane Tale #4: Much yay. In a move that no doubt was not enacted solely for my convenience and ease but contributes to same nonetheless, my primary comics dealer and his colleague have moved their shop from Macedon (a 20-minute drive away) to downtown Canandaigua (a 2-3 minute drive, or a 15-minute pleasant walk on a nice day). Which means that I might visit each week rather than letting a month elapse during my busy weeks (and icy weeks) while my pull-bag balloons. I like their new name: They've changed from Lost Worlds to Pulp Nouveau. Heh, after they'd leased the space, they put a coming-soon sign up for Pulp Nouveau COMICS ... and according to a neighboring merchant who was visiting the shop yesterday when I was there, a number of excited folks thought it was going to be a stand-up comedy nightclub. Heh.
No further Mundane Tales to tell. Everybody eat your vegetables.
Words: League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill (with nods to everyone from Shakespeare to Orwell to Stoker to Fleming). Heh, Moore/O'Neill's LOEG is essentially fanfic of a sort -- fanfic to everything ever written.
Sounds & Images: What a Day by Phil Keaggy
State O'Mind: Mundane
