Tuesday, July 16, 2002

For Your Information: Innocent Smith is no more. I have ceased to blog here. To the twenty or so people who still visit daily, you can read my continued blogging here: blog.ninepence.com. Thank you.

Friday, July 12, 2002

I have a confession to make. I am not real.

I have never been real. No Toby Drake exists (to my knowledge) somewhere in Maine. I am a character in the mind of a diabolical blogger, an experiment in practical joking. With a small group of bloggers willing to join in the fun and testify that I was, indeed, a real person, it was quite easy to make a name for myself. No pun intended.

Everything that I wrote about in these pages actually happened. The names have changed, the locations have changed, but that's all. I ran it merely as I ran my old blog.

And it worked amazingly well. With this simple website, I've climbed the charts in the reformed blogging world. I've even made it higher than my creator did with his blog.

It worked almost too well, in fact. Suddenly, Toby Drake is not merely a pen name. I am required to have conversations with people - emailing, IMing, and all that stuff. It's become a bit much for a make-believe person, however fun. I suppose this comes from reading too many P.G. Wodehouse novels. I should have known it wouldn't work out - it never does in the books. It's incredibly fun to read, though!

Whatever the case, it has gone far enough. It's time for the fun that is Toby Drake to end. I will now sign off, and hand the baton over to the man behind it all: Tim Eaton.
IM. People keep telling me to get into instant messaging. I'm seriously considering it. What should I get, though? ICQ? MSN? AIM? Yahoo? What are most of the reformed-blogger-types on? Which one's the best to go with? Any suggestions?

Thursday, July 11, 2002

Dude! Tim Eaton is back! Back to blogging! Note the new address: blog.ninepence.com. Welcome, friend! You have a daily visitor for sure here.

Wednesday, July 10, 2002

Atmospheric Disturbances. You remember Sunday morning? With the eerie sun and smoky feel?
Ick. After researching Matthew Broderick, I have decided I look nothing like him. Good grief. Did everyone in the 80s have horrible fashion sense? I wasn't dressing like this. Or this. And he wasn't even wearing the same kind of hat. That waitress was nuts. The only picture that looks remotely like something I would wear is this one. Good grief. (If you have problems viewing the images, just hit refresh. They'll come up after a couple times.)
Kristen! She has a blog!
All Right, All Right!

I don't know who started this, but I saw it first on Rachel's blog.

a - age: 19, going on 11.
b - best quality: my boyish good looks? naaaah.
c - choice of meat: sausage.
d - dream date: hm... I don't know.
e - exciting adventure: car accidents.
f - favorite food: mexican! or, rather, americanized mexican. whatever.
g - greatest accomplishment: so far? learning to move my eyes independently of each other.
h - happiest day of your life: way too many to choose from.
i - interests: music, writing, reading, dancing, pool... quidditch.
k - kool-aid: ick.
l - love: haven't found her yet.
m - most valued thing i own: my car.
n - name: toby drake.
o - outfit you love: faded abercrombie jeans with a plain t-shirt over a long sleeve shirt... or a suit. i don't know.
p - pizza toppings: pepperoni.
q - question asked to you the most: "Do I know you?"
r - reason for blogging: Tim talked me into it.
s - sport to watch: golf.
t - television show: Jeeves and Wooster!
u - ur favorite song: wow. way too many to choose from. perhaps VOL's "Port of Entry"
w - winter: is a time for car accidents.
y - year born: 1983.
z - zodiac sign: gemini.

Tuesday, July 09, 2002

Now I Know What Celebrity I Resemble...

SCENE: The Borders café. TOBY sits curled up in a chair, feverishly writing an article. His black snap-brim hat is pulled low over his forehead, and he wears faded jeans and a black button-down shirt. A WAITRESS with pink hair and red shoes cleans a table nearby, and stops and looks at Toby.

Waitress: Hey. You know who you look like?
Toby: Um... No.
Waitress: Matthew Broderick in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.
Toby: Oh? Is that a good thing?
Waitress: Yes! With your hat, and the way you dress...
Toby: Thanks, I guess. I've never seen the flick.
Waitress: You should. Honestly, you look just like him.
Toby: Ah. OK.
Waitress: [walks away to clean another table]
Toby: [stares into space for a moment, then returns to writing]

Ouch. My email has been down for some two days. It's terrible. I've talked Tim into giving me an address at his domain name. So... If you've sent anything to me in the past couple days, please resend it to toby@ninepence.com. Thanks!

Monday, July 08, 2002

Left Behind? Sunday we woke up to a terrible feeling of dread. The sun was blocked as if by smoke, barely shining with an otherwordly orange-pink tint. The objects all around us looked a hazy yellow-green. We all felt a sense of foreboding, as if it were some omen. What disaster would happen today? we wondered.

With a sickening feeling, I began to wonder whether Tim LaHey & Co. were right, all along. There was a completely end-times feeling about the morning. Had we been left behind? I felt sick; if only I had remained a dispensationalist a few years longer, I would have made it into the rapture. Blast it.

Of course, later we learned it was smoke from Canadian forest fires, and the skies were like that clear down to North Carolina. We learned this with open mouths, and grinned our silly grins at each other. But I know we were all secretly relieved.
Monday. The morning we try to sleep off the drinking and carousing of the weekend, but are pitifully unable to. The morning we stumble out of bed, jab our eyes when putting our contacts in, try to comb our hair but give up, climb into the car to go get a coffee, listening only to The Smiths because it seems appropriate... Chatting with the cashier (who looked, as usual, perfect despite it being Monday morning) cheered me up, but... *yawn* They should outlaw Mondays.

OK, there was one good thing this morning. Check out this new blog. OK, so it's not new as of today, but I only found it today. It's still pretty new though, so we welcome you, Rachel!

Sunday, July 07, 2002

Oh, Shut Up.
- Get me a slipjoint wrench.
- A what?
- One of those wrenches with the joint that slips around.
- Real funny. I don't know what you're talking about.
- The thing that goes 'foom foom foom' [spoken with appropriate hand motions]
- Oh! That thing! You should have been more specific.
- [exasperated sigh]

Saturday, July 06, 2002

Hey! A new reformed blogger! Welcome, Valerie!
Payun. I took my two younger brothers - ages 3 and 4 - out with me this morning to do some errands. Mom was gone all day, and so hadn't been around to dress them. I didn't pay attention to what they were wearing, and simply told them to get shoes on and get out in the car if they wanted to come along.

I was at the grocery store before I realized what they were wearing. Jack, age 3, had his jeans on backwards. Buttoned, zipped, and everything (don't ask me how he did it), but backwards. He seemed to have no problem with it, hands in the back front pockets. Matt, the older one, was worse. He paired a light grey and blue polo with bright red sweatpants - an eyesore in and of itself. But apparently he hadn't found his sneakers, and decided to go with cowboy boots from the dress-up box. It gets worse. One boot was dark red and the other was light tan, and they were both for the right foot.

It's a good thing Mom wasn't there, I suppose. She would have freaked. I merely laughed and told them they were wacky - to which Jack replied: "Yeah. I'm a payun." This threw me, and I asked him what a 'payun' was. He didn't hesitate. "It's a you're the most ridiculous I ever my best friend."

Now I know.
He's Back! I just heard from Tim, editor of Chasing Hats. It seems Ninepence is reincarnated. Still no blog, but... It's something of a solace now to type "www.ninepence.com" in the window and not simply get that depressing black screen. Welcome back, Tim!

Friday, July 05, 2002

I'm an Errand Boy for Rhythm. Jazz always seemed more appropriate for at night. The light, teasing piano lines and rain-like drums never seemed to work when the sun was out. It seems almost a sin - playing Diana Krall or Oscar Peterson during the day. I don't know why. I don't decide these things. That's just the way it is.

I just purchased a CD player for my bedroom, so I could have the chance to play Frank Sinatra or Ella Fitzgerald or Dave Brubeck as I prepare for bed, dancing a little when I'm sure no one's looking before I sit on my bed with a glass of water in the dark to simply listen. It's nice, and soothing, and... entirely appropriate. No more day-time jazz.

Tuesday, July 02, 2002

Checkmark Boxes. This poem by this girl struck me. It sounds like it could be a song... Something by Edie Brickell, perhaps. Hm.
Yet Another! Josh Clark, a good friend of mine and one of the amazing team at Chasing Hats, has started a blog. I'm quite looking forward to reading his posts - what's there so far is sweet.
A Flower in My Hair: A Play in Three Acts.

I. Upon placing a large pink flower behind my ear Sunday afternoon, out of a spirit of wackiness and summer festivities, I find myself addressed by my sister RACHEL.

Rachel: You have a flower behind your ear?
Toby: What? Isn't it allowed?
Rachel: I guess. What I don't get is why when I do it, it looks terrible, but on you it looks good.
Toby: [shocked stare]

II. Running out to do a few short errands, flower still in place, I find myself the recipient of many stares - some interested (from the females) and many suspicious (from the males) - and finally addressed by a CASHIER.

Cashier: So... Where'd you get the flower?
Toby: My garden.
Cashier: It's cute.
Toby: Thanks.
Cashier: Pink's my favorite color.
Toby: Cool.
Cashier: Have a great day.
Toby: You, too.

III. Upon reentering my home, after a full enjoyment of every type of stare, I find myself addressed by my MOTHER.

Mother: Did you where that flower out in public?
Toby: Yeah.
Mother: No wonder people think you're gay.
Toby: [shocked stare]


Monday, July 01, 2002

Food is more important than even I imagined! As the elder of our church is currently somewhere in Europe, our faithful deacon stepped forward to give the sermon this week. His topic? Feasting. The title of the sermon? "Sup-sup-suppertime, Very Best Time of Day!"

As his talk led us through famous meals and feasting metaphors in the Bible, one point stood out to me - the importance of food in our covenantal history. Look at this: Man was forced out of the Garden of Eden (and the sacrement of the Tree of Life) because of something he ate. God reinstated fellowship with us through burnt offerings (a little bit of a stretch to call it food, but similar). Now, we are renewed every week through food in the bread and wine of communion.

I find it intriguing how spiritual elements wind so inextricably with the physical - and they can't be seperated! It's so delightfully anti-Gnostic.