Sher-Bux Uber Alles!

I've been a bit off the rails lately, and it will mostly stay light on posting until after the first weekend in May.

I introduced the Sherwood Dollar, or Sher-Buck, or Sher-Bux if you will, in an experiment to see if behavior can be controlled by earning-to-achieve-a-prize.

Short answer: mostly. I'm using old comic books I don't mind parting with as the ultimate prize. I just "sold" my first comic, a 21 year old Captain America comic I never fully read. The purchaser: a girl who bought Sher-Bux from her friends with cash, volunteered at any and every turn, and even did other kids' homework from other classes as barter.

Anyway, some of the posts I'm working on:

• A post about a new addition to our little Long Beezy apartment life, an adorable six-pound Genghis;
• A post due on or near the anniversary of the destruction of the Brazilian futbol team at the hands of the Germans about Germanity;
• Still trying to finish my Sap piece...

Also, this summer should see the release in a small batch print of two more books by Immolation Publications, and this is an early warning/motivator for me to finally get this shit all ready to go/advertisement. The two tiny books are:

• Mullets Over Miami, a project that was completed a dozen years ago but is now getting a makeover and a proper release. Follow two Heads as they journey through the vast Floridian wasteland in the aftermath of 9/11. Mullets, pawn shops, and porno shops as far as the eye could see...
• Maintaining on the Queen Mary, the first tiny collection of blog pieces. This is likely better suited for the shops in Europe, Asia, and Africa that I sent Robot Crickets to than the two to whom I dedicate it: "For my people who may have bandwidth and device issues on trains and gulf-bound vessels..."

I've been trying to keep busy while, eh, yeah...

Kite Weather

Wednesday this week was Tony's birthday. After a game of phone-tag, we were able to talk for a brief moment. As the call was wrapping up I started to feel a little guilty: Tony was house-sitting and injured-dog-sitting for a buddy in their "big city"---Lake Charles---while Corrie and I were headed out to the beach in the middle of the day for a true Spring Break afternoon.

We were bringing a volleyball, a pre-made gin and tonic that finished both our Beefeater and our limes, and a brand new kite we'd just purchased at the local grocers.

After some exciting if creaky peppering, we relaxed on the beach blanket.

Kite time.

After fighting with the package, I was excited to see "constructing" the kite meant inserting two tiny bars of metal into the center, thereby creating the kite shape, and then removing the rubber band from the tail and letting it unfurl.

As I sat there, on the beach blanket, the wind wanted the kite and the kite wanted the wind. In another second I attached the string, gave Corrie the holder after letting some slack go, and tossed the kite up.

Just sitting on the beach, I launched a kite. Fan-freaking-tastic.

It soared, it bobbed, it confused passing-by gulls. We were one for as long as it took for my back to get broiled in the sun.

After passing the kite back and forth a few times, I eventually reeled it in. I did that by sitting back down on the blanket and slowly pulling in the string. I caught the damn thing easily.

I caught it while sitting on the blanket.

Pretty soon after the wind shifted slightly and began to kick up sand. This is unpleasant and occurs after a certain time each day (it seems). We packed it in then and headed home, our heads full of ideas for kite powered turbine technology.


Back in 2011 before moving back to California, I was able to visit Corrie's family's farm in the panhandle region of Texas, and on that trip I purchased a kite. If you read through that post you can see a comment about the kite purchase. In summary:

Me: (Having trouble with the string)
Relative that shall remain unnamed: "Well, don't you feel silly spending those three dollars?"
Me: (full of sincerity) "Are you kidding? That was the best three bucks I ever spent!"
Rtsru: (stinkeye directed at yours truly)