Yearly archives: 2012

the year in books 2012 and a book lover blog hop

Fuck Santa Claus, my favorite time of the holiday season is when I finally get to unveil another year’s reading list.  So without further ado, may I present to you Click Clack Gorilla’s Year in Books 2012.  Ta-da-da-da-da-DA!
I assumed, what with Baby Pickles arrival on the scene in February, that I wouldn’t be able to read as many books as I usually do.  But what I didn’t know was that I would spend hours upon hours upon hours forced into sedentary repose while the Pickle nursed and nursed and nursed and nursed—the perfect time to read.  This year was heavy [...]

and when i steal your heart, do you think you will resist?

It is hard to write a love song that isn’t cheesy.  Try it.  I don’t mean go write a song right now.  But think about love and the people you love and then let a few words come to mind.  Those first words are bound to be cliche, Hallmarked.  It doesn’t make them meaningless, but it does mean they are going to make an annoying, if not downright bad, song.  Put even the slightest bit of schmaltz to music and it becomes magnified, a big gooey horror come to melt the contents of your thinking meat.
I suppose I have managed [...]

i don’t think santa will be fitting down this chimney pipe

Oh dear wood stove, how do I love thee?  And how do I hate thee when it comes time to take down the chimney pipes and clean them out because smoke has been backing into the Wagen at really inconvenient times, like when we’re sleeping?  But I jest (a little).  I never hate our wood stove.  It is my all-time favorite way to heat a room, and it is currently one of the cheapest.  Chopping wood, the smell of oak, lighting a fire, and the flicker and crackle—it is satisfying in a way I can only explain by blaming instinct.  [...]

winter, fried food, and sudden visits

Living so far from the place where I grew up, I had long ago given up on the possibility of a chance meeting with a so-and-so from a whenever-a-long-time-ago.  I like chance meetings.  I like finding out what has become of people I knew when we were kids.  Character development.  It’s fascinating.  But I like living in Germany more, so down the drain with chance meetings, I figured.  The closest I’ve come, will probably ever come, was a few weeks ago.
I’m coming to Frankfurt for work tomorrow! the email said.  Whoa! I said.  We met, after years and years of [...]

you are what you eat

Today’s ravings are brought to you by Fish in the Water.
It’s not just about wasting. It is that—I’m still one of those people who throws food away and guiltily thinks about all the starving children in Africa (and in our own town) who don’t have enough to eat. I’ll compost things like beet greens and broccoli stalks and think, wow, we are alarmingly wasteful.
But when it comes to throwing away leftovers, I get wrathful. To me food is not just another cheap commodity that can be tossed out on a whim. Food is a process. As the majority of the [...]

doing nothing, tom lutz and beyond

Lafargue pleads with workers to not be complicit in their own oppression by believing in the ethical value of labor.  The work ethic that arose with industrialism, he writes, is nothing but a ruse to get the proletariat to agree to its own degradation.  Paint pictures, play music, philosophize, and versify, he counsels, not work, not as commerce, but joyfully.
[Dian di Prima] came “into poverty as into an inheritance.”  What she bought with this “dire poverty,” she says, was the “luxury, the freedom to pass my days as I pleased, exploring, researching whatever came to mind, writing in front of [...]

the walking dead (but not the show)

If you were to count all of the days of your life that you had spent sick in bed, how much would it add up to? I reckon at least a year. The Beard read an article claiming three. Either way it is a depressing thought. Not counting years spent in bed dying of things like cancer. Just counting the common colds. If you could get it all out of the way in one year, would you? I like to get unpleasant things out of the way all at once, but a year of the common cold, of stuffy noses [...]

cloth diaper diary: nine months

Baby Pickles has now been out of the pen longer than she was in it.  The period that some people think of as “out of womb gestation” is now complete.  I guess I can pack up her stuff and send her off to college then.  Don’t forget your cloth diapers, honey!  Oh.  Diapers.  Guess she’s going to be living here for another couple of years.
laundry be damned
Nine months of Baby Pickles, nine months of cloth diapers, and at least 60,000 bajillion million loads of laundry.  Roughly.  There was a brief period when I was fed up with the laundry.  It [...]

escapologists at home

The New Escapologist!  Oo la la!  Need I say more?  No.  But it looks like I am going to anyway.
I’ve mentioned this lovely magazine before here, and here, after they published a little ditty I wrote in Issue 6: Against the Grain.  I continue to be inspired and impressed by their content, as well as extremely flattered at my inclusion among their pages.  As I’ve been recently learning through my current read Doing Nothing: A History of Loafers, Loungers, Slackers, and Bums in America, New Escapologist follows in an old and admirable tradition of magazines urging people to stop fucking [...]

the old woman and the sea (of paperwork) or, advanced parenting in germany

Every since Baby Pickles arrived I have felt like I’m being buried alive.  Letters, forms, papers, confirmations, more forms, more forms, and more fucking forms.  Welcome to parenthood in Germany.  Not so pleased to meet you, but thanks for the mad cash that you keep telling us we will someday get for working on your shrinking population problem.  (“Problem.”)
I suck at paperwork.  Though I vaguely enjoy filling out forms in a sort of obsessive compulsive way, I have trouble filling them out and getting them to the post office on time because at the end of the day I just [...]