What the Name Means

Time to give my blog a new name. I figure that "Where is my Mind" sounds too self-absorbed and existential and whiney. The kicker is that it still is but I can probably lure more people in this way. Not that I care anyway. Or do I?

Like the previous title, this one also has a story behind it. Gather round children and I will soon bore you to sleep with another quaint story from my past. A few years ago I was in secondary school. I was fortunate enough to have an inspirational tutor who delighted in shoving a culture crowbar into my narrow mind, cranking it open and stuffing it with great books and cds and films and shit. Metaphorically speaking, natch. One of the books he lent me, I can't remember the name, was about a typical American suburb that had been plunged into martial law. Now the twist was that the suburbanites were still going to their white-collar jobs and shopping at the mall, only their whole neighbourhood was a warzone with barbed wire, mines and trenches. Naturally society had been divided up into sets of warring tribes. The story was about a school teacher and it had one hell of a fucked up ending. Now there was one passage where the teacher was describing his neighbours' houses. It's typical 80's penis-envy except that all of the houses have been modified to survive a nuke. There was one house which had been encased in cement, for protection, and the owner had set up his sprinklers to spray up into the air so that when the sun caught them the house sparkled like a rainbox. A 'rainbox pillbox' as it was called. I just thought it was a nice phrase, containing both natural beauty and ugly functionality.

If that makes sense, I'm beginning to feel tired now.