tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57023502011-04-21T17:28:17.162-05:00Notes from the way, way, way underground <a href="mailto:waywaywayunderground@yahoo.com?subject=SUBSCRIBE">Subscribe </a>Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.comBlogger351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110927561556398532005-03-15T17:58:00.001-05:002005-03-15T17:59:21.556-05:00I enjoy a good crowded subway platform in the morning. It means a train hasn't come by in the last 10 minutes. All those people waiting there, they could have stayed in bed 10 more minutes like I did. What a bunch of Suckers.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110927560497903812005-03-15T17:58:00.000-05:002005-03-15T17:59:20.496-05:00I enjoy a good crowded subway platform in the morning. It means a train hasn't come by in the last 10 minutes. All those people waiting there, they could have stayed in bed 10 more minutes like I did. What a bunch of Suckers.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110927481635170952005-03-15T17:55:00.003-05:002005-03-15T17:58:01.636-05:00I enjoy a good crowded subway platform in the morning. It means a train hasn't come by in the last 10 minutes. All those people waiting there, they could have stayed in bed 10 more minutes like I did. What a bunch of Suckers.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110927480540188002005-03-15T17:55:00.002-05:002005-03-15T17:58:00.543-05:00I enjoy a good crowded subway platform in the morning. It means a train hasn't come by in the last 10 minutes. All those people waiting there, they could have stayed in bed 10 more minutes like I did. What a bunch of Suckers.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110927432614652582005-03-15T17:55:00.001-05:002005-03-15T17:57:12.613-05:00I enjoy a good crowded subway platform in the morning. It means a train hasn't come by in the last 10 minutes. All those people waiting there, they could have stayed in bed 10 more minutes like I did. What a bunch of Suckers.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110927427197859922005-03-15T17:55:00.000-05:002005-03-15T17:57:07.196-05:00I enjoy a good crowded subway platform in the morning. It means a train hasn't come by in the last 10 minutes. All those people waiting there, they could have stayed in bed 10 more minutes like I did. What a bunch of Suckers.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1110395313397474252005-03-09T14:05:00.000-05:002005-03-09T14:09:38.550-05:00Maybe, like me, you're not one of those people fortunate enough to have a name that can be brought down to a couple letters. If your name isn't Petey (pt), Opie (op) , or say, Katie (kt) you're not left with too many options on the ol' "signing your emails with a couple letters that are your name" front. One way to go is to invent your own alphabet. Something like A, B, C, Pat, D, E, F, Rick, G, Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1079916893230651802004-03-21T19:54:00.000-05:002004-06-02T15:52:58.043-05:00My Afghani cab driver, Sam the Man, uses kebab as a metaphor for sex. He's got to call his wife every so often, otherwise he gets no kebab. He also thinks I should gets some kebab, because it's healthy. I also learn that Afghani rice is the best. By this, I assume, he really means rice.
Today’s Thing is the Bard. There is still time to catch A Midsummer Nights Dream at BAM. King Lear is Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1067399327083737502003-10-28T22:48:00.000-05:002004-02-27T18:37:53.076-05:00I haven’t really been all that underground. You know when you go to the beach and you see some fat guy buried in the sand and his kids are pouring beer down his throat, but then after a while the kids get bored and wander off, and he kind of complains a little but manages to free himself from all the sand and get himself another beer? I think I’ve been kind of like that. Instead of sand I’d Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1066662752250179312003-10-20T10:12:00.000-05:002003-10-20T10:13:15.760-05:00How come all these "previous life people" were always Countesses or Chieftains or some such nonsense. Was no one a Kazak goat herder? Do goat herders not get reborn? The whole thing strikes me as not all too egalitarian.
Today’s Thing is Miss Maude's Spoonbread Too. No excessive linking today, I’m just glad to be sending something out. Maude’s serves up some great soul food, way, way, way Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1064253831113673452003-09-22T13:03:00.000-05:002003-09-22T13:04:52.500-05:00There are a lot of problems with shaving your head. Bowling alleys are right out for instance. By far the worst though is living in constant fear of your friend’s bringing out another shaved head guy, and then your friend having to go home early, leaving you as one part of a "Bald Guys Out on the Town" duo.
Today’s Thing is Today's Papers. Slate is a good source for general O'Reilly bashing, Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063817966288223722003-09-17T08:00:00.000-05:002003-09-17T14:14:33.376-05:00Catch and Release Bow-Hunting Season starts today.
Today’s Thing is Lost in Translation. The critics love this little exercise in self-indulgent filmmaking and so do I. Sofia Coppola wrote and directed it (with a little financial help from surprise executive producer Francis Ford Coppola). Bill Murray is reaching the cinematic “Can do no wrong” levels previously only seen in pre “Nick of TimePatrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063604685859160512003-09-16T07:00:00.000-05:002003-09-16T15:21:40.856-05:00In the interest of maintaining my special relationship with mankind (man's best friend, loyal companion, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera) I would like to make the following general requests:
Please do not name me "Bill", or "Tom", or "Sue". Those are human names. Would you name your son "Spot"? Your daughter "Lassie"? Proably not. The Dog Park is not a kind place for a dog named "Larry".
Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063600413711685012003-09-15T07:03:00.000-05:002003-09-15T09:11:38.490-05:00A handy quiz to determine if a moustache is right for you. Answer the following questions to the best of your ability. Remember that your first guess is usually the correct answer.
A) Are you auditioning to play a French waiter in a movie featuring John Cleese or Tim Roth? (1 point)
B) Are you a Fireman? (2 points)
C) Are you Turkish? (2 points)
D) Does your Significant Other occasionally Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063386281517145932003-09-12T12:04:00.000-05:002003-09-12T12:04:41.546-05:00As I was sitting last night on the floor of my apartment… alone… applying mascara… listening to The Cure … naked … in the dark except for the candles … staring at hundreds of black and white photos of my ex-girlfriend taped to the wall... mumbling… and licking a knife… it occurred to me that it’s ridiculous to pay for a gym membership I don’t use. I’m going to cancel it.
Today’s Thing is Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063293672608583642003-09-11T10:48:00.000-05:002003-09-11T10:48:31.153-05:00"Of course Jesus was in China, where you think he learned Kung Fu?"
I wish that was my own, but I read it somewhere. It was part of a (reportedly real) conversation between two homeless guys.
Austria has been holding the torch for the German speaking culinary world for some time. Stellar Rieslings, that pre-midnight Gremlin Wolfgang Puck, and hoity-toity Danube all give the lie to German Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063255147283850152003-09-10T20:39:00.000-05:002003-09-11T09:57:36.826-05:00Today’s post is a result of a rolling lateness. Inexplicably I put my alarm clock within reach of my bed a couple nights ago. Why would someone do something like that? Might as well just call into work late a couple days in advance. It’s not enough to move my alarm clock a few feet from my bed. I could move the thing through my (small) apartment, litter broken glass along the way, hide it Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063122052988866542003-09-09T10:40:00.000-05:002003-09-09T16:32:16.730-05:00My coworker just got back from Taiwan and brought me a cookbook. My other (Fukianese) coworker made some photocopies and now there’s a lunchbox competition going on. We’re going mung bean noodle to mung bean noodle. No time to write, got to start training.
Today’s Thing is The Star Wars Kid. Just in case anyone missed the link to him last week, this guy deserves his own mention. His parentsPatrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1063050046251048382003-09-08T14:40:00.000-05:002003-09-09T10:41:39.593-05:00Re: Batman where are you?
I’ve been a little depressed.
A lot of Wayne Industries Assets were tied up in Internet companies. The bust has left me more or less broke. Poor Alfred followed my investment lead and lost his retirement fund. He had to take on a second job as a bar back in Williamsburg. They make him wear a trucker hat.
Robin has left me. There’s word on the street that he’s Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062780136875510692003-09-05T11:42:00.000-05:002003-09-08T14:43:29.436-05:00“Women are mean and men are stupid.” I thought I had exclusive worldwide rights to this one. It turns out that my coworker has a friend who has also been saying it for years. I’m not really ready to cede coinage credit. Maybe we came up with it simultaneously, like Calculus and Newton/Leibniz… but with less impact. Regardless, it is a fact. Women will say unbelievable things to their female Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062682078448276722003-09-04T08:27:00.000-05:002003-09-04T08:33:54.520-05:00I like to think of myself as a sort of latter day Attila the Hun. Sure, I'm not a particularly good horseman, and no, I do not command a Mongol horde, but I did spend a couple years as a hippie in Buffalo, which is cold. Also I'm taller than Attila, which has to make up for some other stuff. If I ever get around to conquering Europe, I'm going to give Germany to Poland. Also clotted cream Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062636382606083212003-09-03T19:46:00.000-05:002003-09-03T19:46:22.666-05:00Marriage is when one person says to another, "I’m so serious about not cheating on you that I’m willing to let all of society look down on me for doing it."
Today’s Thing is babelfish. If you were a junior high nerd (like me) than you recognize the Douglas Adams reference. The grammar is not good enough to cheat on homework, but it can get you out of a pinch when someone emails you in Korean.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062511460580527302003-09-02T09:04:00.000-05:002003-09-02T09:04:20.606-05:00The coolish weather has me thinking on fall (or autumn as I like to call it). Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how the leaves change and how beautiful they are. They create all that beauty in the process of dying of course. It’s as if, knowing that they must forever leave this world, they explode forth in one glorious act of artistic creation. I’ve decided to stay as far as possible Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062440345625715762003-09-01T13:19:00.000-05:002003-09-01T13:22:55.400-05:00Running isn’t about feeling good. It’s about feeling bad. There are lots of ways to feel bad when running. There are for instance, shin splints, nausea, knee swelling, feinting, heat exhaustion, hypothermia, sweat in the eyes, twisted ankles, side stitches, and headlong nosedives into gravel, wood chips, and asphalt. Running may be about feeling bad, having run however, isn’t. Having run Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062168693011294702003-08-29T09:51:00.000-05:002003-08-29T09:51:32.920-05:00A reoccurring theme in my oeuvre is things done for no reason. People have the hardest time coming to terms with something done for no reason at all. Right now for instance, I’m learning Turkish for no reason. The conversations usually go something like this:
(friendly)
“Want to hang out later?”
“I can’t I have to meet my Turkish tutor.”
(surprise)
“You’re learning Turkish?”
“Yeah.”
(Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1062080304420421122003-08-28T09:18:00.000-05:002003-08-28T09:18:24.550-05:00Crazy people can be pretty scary. What with all their ideas about a former life as Helen Keller, or how Angels are hanging out on their couch. But crazy people I can deal with. “ok, no problem, you’re crazy.” What freaks me out is when I meet someone who’s talking some total craziness, and then I notice a wedding band. I can’t help trying to imagine their spouse. “Who is so batshit crazy Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061991582754714102003-08-27T08:39:00.000-05:002003-08-27T08:39:42.703-05:00I started baking when I was ten years old. I did your standard ten year old baking stuff; pound cakes, meringue shells filled with ice cream, sponge cake layers brushed with cherry infused simple syrup and frosted in butter cream. My father, I'm sure, was a bit concerned about my gender identity. There really wasn't any reason to worry. Behind my cherubic little smile lay the diabolical plan Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061909092289108812003-08-26T09:44:00.000-05:002003-08-26T09:53:10.183-05:00A lot of people having been asking me "So just how far underground is way, way, way underground?" Great question. Way, way, way underground is really far underground. Somewhere below the mole people.
Another question is, "If you are so way, way, way underground, how do you know about all these cool Today's Things?" Hey, that's also a great question. Once every couple of weeks the mole Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061814423991744972003-08-25T07:27:00.000-05:002003-08-25T07:27:04.030-05:00All the news about Israel/Palestine has got me thinking about an old neighbor of mine in Austin. Nick was famous for breaking things, insulting people, and inane theories. He sat in my living room one sunny Sunday afternoon, staining my couch with a wet leather belt (he had very recently rode a child’s bicycle into the pool), explaining in detail how the Israelis were like Sammy Hagar and the Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061706519390672322003-08-24T01:28:00.000-05:002003-08-25T08:47:55.026-05:00If hair could scream people would dread haircuts.
Today's thing is Deep Dish Cabaret. Sure it has it's off nights, but so do you (although I guess you're not a cabaret, so maybe it's an unfair comparison), and on an on night, Deep Dish is one of my favorite places to be. Chris Rozzi is so naturally funny it's scary (although word is he's going underground for a bit), and Eric Davis (for latestPatrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061672468496214932003-08-23T16:01:00.000-05:002003-08-23T16:01:29.316-05:00It's never a good idea to name the voices in your head after your friends. It'll end up confusing you, your friends, and the voices.
Todays thing is Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. More hauntingly beautiful than The Remains of the Day. Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061555720985242882003-08-22T07:35:00.000-05:002003-08-22T10:49:39.053-05:00Tomorrow is my twenty-seventh birthday. I’m not so crazy about the idea. Ok, sure, twenty-seven isn’t exactly old, but it's definitely a thing. When you are twenty-seven you can say things like "when I was a kid", and it doesn’t even sound a little silly. You constantly have to fight the urge to kick the living shit out of ridiculously successful people your age. There’s an element of Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061479691264078312003-08-21T10:28:00.000-05:002003-08-22T07:34:49.633-05:00I check my email about eight thousand times a day. I don’t even admit to people how often I check it, for fear they might take me for mad. I’d say it’s an OCD thing, but I don’t do it in any pattern. It’s not like I check my email three times, open a drawer, wash the cat, close the drawer, repeat. I’m just constantly checking.
Today’s thing is Toytronic. Unfortunately the site is under Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061394289075387932003-08-20T10:44:00.000-05:002003-08-20T11:23:42.630-05:00Today's thing is Williams Pear Eau De Vie, also called Pear Brandy, Poire William, and Williams Birne. This stuff is super popular in Austria, where I tried it for the first time on a James Bond like ski vacation. It tastes sort of like pear flavored gasoline, but in a good way. The trick is to drink it after a few beers so that you notice the incredible pear bouquet and not your throat Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5702350.post-1061346150112385922003-08-19T21:22:00.000-05:002003-08-19T21:43:39.170-05:00So, my first blog. If you’re reading this than either I never post or you’re some sort of total Patrick freak who insists on reading back all the way to the first words I've ever written. I know it's sort of paraphrasing Groucho Marx, but I got to tell you. You have terrible taste in obsessions.Patrick Farleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06361239021571823970noreply@blogger.com0