The Ever-Loving Virgin Prince
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
A Good Work Ethic Is Its Own Reward
Loyal letches,
I’ve finally returned! I’m back from the mountain, my spirit rejuvenated by the country life. All it took was little more than the opportunity for a good day’s work, and the company of family. Every morning I would wake, dress, and work out in the yard until the sun went down. As the darkness set in, I’d bring my sore bones inside and relax while watching the music videos of yesteryear. I do believe I’ve now seen every music video ever made by Thomas Dolby, Queen, and George Harrison. Blessed be the Laserdisc player. At night, I’d retire to bed, reading my father’s copy of I Am Not Spock, then drifting into slumber so that I might repeat the process again the next morning.
The good news doesn’t end there: I’ve rediscovered my long-lost ALTV tape! Once more I’ve got access to Lou Reed’s Original Wrapper, and the comedy stylings of Emo Phillips. I can relive viewing the very first Ramones and They Might Be Giants videos I ever saw, marvel once more at the riving of Harvey the Wonder Hamster with a sledgehammer, or shudder in fear at the image of a laughing Greg Kihn. He has muppet eyes I tell you, MUPPET EYES!
Ah, it was quite refreshing, my time up north, though I must say I’ve already begun to miss the sensation of having oil splatter all over me as I operate a chainsaw. I even find myself longing once more for the recently-absent sawdust which once filled the air before my face and afflicted me with a nose full of black muck at each day’s end. Oh, how very appealing it was to retire inside with shins sore from the breaking of branches upon them. I worked hard, like John Henry before me, and similar to that mighty legend, I too left broken tools and machinery in my wake. They haven’t yet made the pair of loppers that can out-perform me.
I think tonight I might retire early. My legs are sore; I think perhaps I ran too hard today. Or perhaps it was the fact that I spent a few hours humpin’ the boonies as I looked for work shortly thereafter. I’m not sure. What I do know is that I’m rather tired now, and require rest. Time for me to climb into my Batman bed sheets and dream of being stuck on the bus with all those randy, mystical ninja-assassin schoolgirls once more. Harrison Ford won’t cock-block me this time. Good night.
Be seeing you,
The Virgin Prince
I’ve finally returned! I’m back from the mountain, my spirit rejuvenated by the country life. All it took was little more than the opportunity for a good day’s work, and the company of family. Every morning I would wake, dress, and work out in the yard until the sun went down. As the darkness set in, I’d bring my sore bones inside and relax while watching the music videos of yesteryear. I do believe I’ve now seen every music video ever made by Thomas Dolby, Queen, and George Harrison. Blessed be the Laserdisc player. At night, I’d retire to bed, reading my father’s copy of I Am Not Spock, then drifting into slumber so that I might repeat the process again the next morning.
The good news doesn’t end there: I’ve rediscovered my long-lost ALTV tape! Once more I’ve got access to Lou Reed’s Original Wrapper, and the comedy stylings of Emo Phillips. I can relive viewing the very first Ramones and They Might Be Giants videos I ever saw, marvel once more at the riving of Harvey the Wonder Hamster with a sledgehammer, or shudder in fear at the image of a laughing Greg Kihn. He has muppet eyes I tell you, MUPPET EYES!
Ah, it was quite refreshing, my time up north, though I must say I’ve already begun to miss the sensation of having oil splatter all over me as I operate a chainsaw. I even find myself longing once more for the recently-absent sawdust which once filled the air before my face and afflicted me with a nose full of black muck at each day’s end. Oh, how very appealing it was to retire inside with shins sore from the breaking of branches upon them. I worked hard, like John Henry before me, and similar to that mighty legend, I too left broken tools and machinery in my wake. They haven’t yet made the pair of loppers that can out-perform me.
I think tonight I might retire early. My legs are sore; I think perhaps I ran too hard today. Or perhaps it was the fact that I spent a few hours humpin’ the boonies as I looked for work shortly thereafter. I’m not sure. What I do know is that I’m rather tired now, and require rest. Time for me to climb into my Batman bed sheets and dream of being stuck on the bus with all those randy, mystical ninja-assassin schoolgirls once more. Harrison Ford won’t cock-block me this time. Good night.
The Virgin Prince
