thoughts on thinking, thoughts on shanking
don't have much to write about, but I want to get that "schedule blog" out of the homepage.
yo trabajo mucho. I like that I work hard. It's nice to think that people that work with me could say, "he works his butt off." makes me proud, but I'm not really in love with what I'm doing.
I cut myself the other night... I was feeling sad. Just kidding! I cut myself at work with a corkscrew knife--trying to pull up the bar rails for to wash them, pull them up by sticking sharp and curved corkscrew knife into special hole in rail then lifting vigorously. Must be saved till the end of the night as it looks rather strenuous and questionable for the bar, not at all good for high-class patrons to have to witness that kind of thing. That's the kind of thing that could down-right ruin a $200 meal. There's a lot of things that could ruin a $200 meal. In fact, I'm wondering what could save a $200 meal.
Anyways, the rails, the knife, the night. Literally, figuratively, this was the last thing I had to do before I paid the dishwasher to take out my glass and garbage because I'm too lazy and he's too enterprising and Lo! the knife slips out of the hole and shanks me. The laceration occurred at the base of my right index finger, parallel to the crease near the palm. I knew right away that it would require medical attention if not stitches and I quickly set the corkscrew down and hustled downstairs wash and visually inspect my freely-bleeding wound. Visual inspection and the cook Joel confirmed that this gash would require stitches.
Blackbird footed the bill for the sutures and tetanus shot, as I was toiling under the auspices of bar care, my general area. Here's a nice picture of my 3 sutures:
strange event overall. I'm surprised that something like this hasn't happened earlier while bar-backing (bar back is like woody or coach on cheers). there's a lot of glass and knives and just a lot of chances to get cut.
also strange when trying to reconcile this with my deterministic view of the universe. according to my philosophy, this HAD to happen. why is that? I believe that if I rewound the clock to 12:14 saturday night, going back to that instant 100 times, all 100 times I will shank myself with a corkscrew knife. It wasn't exactly fate, but it was the thing that was going to happen at that instant, the thing that did happen. It makes sense why it happened: super busy night, late, tired, absolutely the last thing I had to do, happy to be going home, happy to be done, not really paying attention, stupid task, stupidly-designed rails, sharp-ass corkscrew knife. It all adds up. But shit I really wish I hadn't cut myself. My jobs are all hand-based and arm-based and I'm kind of out of commission until the healing takes, maybe 3-4 days, maybe 7 days. At any rate, this is much longer than I've had off in about 3 months.
How to reconcile regret and embarrassment with necessity and determinism?
Here's another funny thought: take the rail out of the equation. Without the rail, you have just me standing there behind the bar, holding a sharp corkscrew knife. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I bring the knife up abruptly and slam it in the fleshy knuckle at the base of my right index finger. That's pretty absurd. I sure am glad that rail was there--at least the rail kind of rationalized this totally absurd experience.
in other news...
listening right now to Joel Korte's Late Night Sessions Vol. 6, which I played electric for (and some keyboards) and which Joel mailed to me on 5 CDs the other day. there's some good stuff on there. it needs severe editing (5 discs!) and it's pretty jammy--but of course it was bound to be. that was a fun night.
reading... not reading much of anything. I wish I had more time to read. I read the paper and I'm reading a nice book about how learn good wines taste mmm. me learn wine good work more money rich people wine talk. basically here is the gist of the true knowledge I've gained about wine (it's all about wine at these restaurants): I can now identify boring wines. The key thing with a wine is that it should be interesting. I find that most all wines are palatable (except the most sugary garbage with too much alcohol), but the question is if a wine is worth drinking. Is it interesting? Now I'm trying to hone my knowledge about specific grapes and how to talk about wine. It's all about talk.
that's about all for now. In other news, here's what I did this morning. Whoops!
yo trabajo mucho. I like that I work hard. It's nice to think that people that work with me could say, "he works his butt off." makes me proud, but I'm not really in love with what I'm doing.
I cut myself the other night... I was feeling sad. Just kidding! I cut myself at work with a corkscrew knife--trying to pull up the bar rails for to wash them, pull them up by sticking sharp and curved corkscrew knife into special hole in rail then lifting vigorously. Must be saved till the end of the night as it looks rather strenuous and questionable for the bar, not at all good for high-class patrons to have to witness that kind of thing. That's the kind of thing that could down-right ruin a $200 meal. There's a lot of things that could ruin a $200 meal. In fact, I'm wondering what could save a $200 meal.
Anyways, the rails, the knife, the night. Literally, figuratively, this was the last thing I had to do before I paid the dishwasher to take out my glass and garbage because I'm too lazy and he's too enterprising and Lo! the knife slips out of the hole and shanks me. The laceration occurred at the base of my right index finger, parallel to the crease near the palm. I knew right away that it would require medical attention if not stitches and I quickly set the corkscrew down and hustled downstairs wash and visually inspect my freely-bleeding wound. Visual inspection and the cook Joel confirmed that this gash would require stitches.
Blackbird footed the bill for the sutures and tetanus shot, as I was toiling under the auspices of bar care, my general area. Here's a nice picture of my 3 sutures:
strange event overall. I'm surprised that something like this hasn't happened earlier while bar-backing (bar back is like woody or coach on cheers). there's a lot of glass and knives and just a lot of chances to get cut.
also strange when trying to reconcile this with my deterministic view of the universe. according to my philosophy, this HAD to happen. why is that? I believe that if I rewound the clock to 12:14 saturday night, going back to that instant 100 times, all 100 times I will shank myself with a corkscrew knife. It wasn't exactly fate, but it was the thing that was going to happen at that instant, the thing that did happen. It makes sense why it happened: super busy night, late, tired, absolutely the last thing I had to do, happy to be going home, happy to be done, not really paying attention, stupid task, stupidly-designed rails, sharp-ass corkscrew knife. It all adds up. But shit I really wish I hadn't cut myself. My jobs are all hand-based and arm-based and I'm kind of out of commission until the healing takes, maybe 3-4 days, maybe 7 days. At any rate, this is much longer than I've had off in about 3 months.
How to reconcile regret and embarrassment with necessity and determinism?
Here's another funny thought: take the rail out of the equation. Without the rail, you have just me standing there behind the bar, holding a sharp corkscrew knife. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I bring the knife up abruptly and slam it in the fleshy knuckle at the base of my right index finger. That's pretty absurd. I sure am glad that rail was there--at least the rail kind of rationalized this totally absurd experience.
in other news...
listening right now to Joel Korte's Late Night Sessions Vol. 6, which I played electric for (and some keyboards) and which Joel mailed to me on 5 CDs the other day. there's some good stuff on there. it needs severe editing (5 discs!) and it's pretty jammy--but of course it was bound to be. that was a fun night.
reading... not reading much of anything. I wish I had more time to read. I read the paper and I'm reading a nice book about how learn good wines taste mmm. me learn wine good work more money rich people wine talk. basically here is the gist of the true knowledge I've gained about wine (it's all about wine at these restaurants): I can now identify boring wines. The key thing with a wine is that it should be interesting. I find that most all wines are palatable (except the most sugary garbage with too much alcohol), but the question is if a wine is worth drinking. Is it interesting? Now I'm trying to hone my knowledge about specific grapes and how to talk about wine. It's all about talk.
that's about all for now. In other news, here's what I did this morning. Whoops!
posted by j0eb0t-xj9 at 6:03 PM
3 Comments:
your link makes me want to barf.
Hey Joe, it's Truc Pham from Rise Pathways! No, kidding; it's Evan. Anyway, I was looking through old bookmarked sites on my computer, and under my "blog" header I re-stumble upon your site, which looks like it's been renamed? (Knarly cut, by the way.) Anyway, do you guys live in Chicago? If so, we should definitely get together; Julia and I are in Lincoln Park (Halsted and Diversy). I don't think I have you number or e-mail, but drop me a line some time: enoetz@gmail.com
Good post
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