I'll take the river down to Stillwater and ride a pack of dogs

Here are the awards that didn't make the starting line up.

Favorite song title I made up but have no use for award:

"Give the Cookie to the Cookie". Ah, it rolls off the tongue, it does, but what does it mean? Who cares? Establishing meaning has hardly ever been a prerequisite in songwriting. In fact, some of the best songs, like "I am the Walrus" are great because they make no sense. So, why don't I go ahead and make "Give the Cookie to the Cookie" a hit? You know, now that I think of it, maybe I will. I have a feeling it will put "Who Let the Dogs Out" to shame.

Worst and oddest Chinese food experience award:

One night, I ordered from a place in town---can't remember the name, which is probably for the best---and as soon as I hung up, I walked over to the White Hen to use the ATM. They had told me it would take at least 45 minutes for the food to arrive, so the round trip 10 minute walk to the Hen would not prevent me from being at the house when the food came, especially as I left IMMEDIATELY after I hung up. I went to the Hen---didn't dilly or dally---and when I came home, I saw the delivery guy at my door. What the Hell? He looked pissed and said he had been waiting for a while. How was that possible? I was only gone ten minutes. How did he arrive so quickly? I didn't know, and at that point, I was mainly concerned with paying the guy and eating my food. When I got around to eating the food, it was so bad, I threw it away. Let me repeat that: It was so bad I threw it away. Never in my life have I had Chinese food that was trash- worthy. Sure, I've had some nasty experiences with it, but nothing I couldn't handle. This time, though, I couldn't do it. It was that bad. The boneless ribs were drowned in about a half gallon of foul red jelly that was so sticky it took a monumental effort to separate the pieces. And the crab rangoons were filled with a white liquid. That's right, a liquid. When I bit into a piece, it squirted all over my face. Good thing it wasn't terribly hot. Anyway, stay away from that place, whatever it's name is.

Best street urchin award:

The guy who comes into work everyday on his bike. He comes in and either shakes your hand or does the Wonder Twins fist-connecting bit. And if you shake his hand with any pressure at all, he'll howl in pain. That's why I like to do the Wonder Twins bit; no howling. And then he says "You're the man", to which I reply "No, you're the man", to which he replies "No, you're the man, to which.........you see where this is going.

Worst street urchin award:

The guy who hangs out by the park and yells at everyone. Hey, buddy, we hear you; I'll listen to what you have to say, but keep it down, already. Jesus Christ!

Best spin by the media award:

When the kid got tasered at a Kerry lecture, that should have raised the hackles of anyone who is interested in living in a free society and should have provoked a debate over when or if force should be used in questionable situations. Instead, the focus was placed on the kid's "catch phrase", which was "Don't tase me, bro", and his s0-called attempt, like the "Leave Britney Alone guy", to grab at 15 minutes of fame. What a nut, provoking the Naz........, er, I mean our boys and girls in blue, into plugging 50,ooo volts of electricity into his fame-seeking frame. Anyway, now that I think of it, it is a pretty cool catch phrase, so maybe what he did was worth the pain. "Don't tase me, bro!". I love it! Maybe I'll try to provoke the cops into shooting me in the face while I scream "Don't shoot me in the face, bro!". That'll show 'em.

The countdown to Britney-ville award:

Bindy Irwin. For reals, I hope she emerges unscathed from the child star machine, but somehow I doubt it. Even though she bothers me with all the rapping and singing and the frozen smile ( you know, the one that never makes it to the eyes), I still think she's a sweet kid. There's still time to save her. Which brings me to the next award.

Best musical that is still in the developmental stage award:

Here's the story: A child with a famous, crocodile-hunting father, gets thrust into the spotlight after her father gets eaten by a pack of Koala bears. The child uses her celebrity to numb the pain of her father's passing, but she soon discovers that she's a prisoner of the fame machine. After releasing four hip-hop albums, a book, two films, six aerobic videos, five music videos, and fifteen episodes of her animal-laden TV show, she experiences a melt down. She plots her demise, thinking a dive into the jaws of a croc will be a poetic and apt ending to her short life. All of a sudden, her father's ghost appears in her bedroom and talks her out of suicide. He brings her to the forest and convinces her to live with the Koalas that killed him. How could she live with her father's assassins, she wonders aloud? Her father goes on and on, using some hokey spiritual karmic reasoning to explain why she must, and she's convinced. So, she ends up living with the Koalas. The end. Oh, and there will be a shitload of singing and what not.

Ok, I'm done with part 2. No, there won't be a part 3. I think I've done enough damage already.

Happy New Year!

I can hear the bullfrog calling me

Since it's the end of the year, I've decided, in a fit of originality, to create a best/worst of awards list for 2007. As this type of thing is seldom, if ever, done, you may want to read it over a few times in order to fully comprehend what's going on. Don't worry, you'll love it. So, without further ado, I present to you my list.


Best place to gawk at hot chicks while buying groceries award:

Shaw's in Porter Square.

A 180 degree shift I never in my wildest dreams saw coming this time last year award:

The Celtics total domination of the NBA. Thank you Danny Ainge for KG, Ray Ray, James Posey, et al.

TV show that I wanted to like more than I did award:

The Wire. Yeah, it's decent, but next to Rome, The Sopranos, and Deadwood, it can't compete.

Best bagel award:

Thomas' deli style honey-oatmeal bagel. Every morning, without fail.

Best book that I just started reading today, but have a feeling will be better than all the books I finished over the course of the year award:

The Blade Itself, by Joe Abercrombie

Least newsworthy story that became big news award:

Ellen's weep-athon on her show over a dog. Hey, I love dogs, but do you see me crying over them on my show? Nope, I'm a professional.

Best conversation piece award:

The Cup Girls video. Sure beats small talk about the weather.

Bravest motherfuckers out there award:

9/11 truthers. Half the population thinks they're crazy and, considering we're entering, and quickly, a fascist state, there's a good possibility their well being is at risk. Don't forget what ze Germans did back in the day.

Most overrated, overhyped album award:

Neon Bible, by Arcade Fire. Yeah, it's pretty good when it's not trying to be Bruce Springsteen, but c'mon, is it really THAT good, like all the indie-hipsters are saying? No, it is not.

Best Documentary award:

Heima, a film by Sigor Ros. Every second of it is a testament to the power and beauty of art with a capital "A".

Best shouting match award:

Me and Bob TV going at it during his move. There was venom-spewing, tears (Bob's), implied threats of violence (mine), a brief reconciliation with hugs, foot stomping, false bravado, the works. It spanned days and I'll probably never have another fight like it.

Most disturbing book that was impossible to put down award:

The End of America, by Naomi Wolf

Caught masturbating award:

Bob TV. The funny thing about it was I knocked on his door and he said "come in". After a minute or two, he let on that he had been in the process of rubbing one out in front of the computer when I knocked. It explained the sweaty face and immobile hand positioned deep in his lap. I suggested, crazy me, that perhaps next time he says "I'm busy" , "Come back in twenty minutes", or anything that wouldn't grant me immediate entry to his room. I even would have accepted "Dude, I'm about to cum all over myself. Let me finish sorting through this mess and I'll come see you directly".

Shows that had me crying from laughing so hard award:

The Office, UK and US

I"m Alan Partridge

Extras

Curb Your Enthusiasm

I usually find most comedies obtuse and decidedly unfunny, but I was lucky with these shows. Brilliant!

Best hot drink award:

Starbuck's peppermint white chocolate mocha latte with whipped cream. Holla!

Best DVD commentary award:

Norman Hill and Werner Herzog for Rescue Dawn. Their commentaries are always as entertaining as the films themselves.

Recovery of the year award:

Roger Ebert's battle back from cancer that took him away from reviewing films for too long. Now that he's back in the saddle, I'm overjoyed, mostly for selfish reasons, but overjoyed, nonetheless.

Best purchase of the year award:

The Ipod Nano. Use it every day.

Cryptozoological event of the year award:

Most would say it was the picture of a purported juvenile Sasquatch taken by a hunter's trail cam in Pennsylvania, but I contend it was the wood debris-covered snow mounds found in California's Sierra Nevadas by Bigfoot researchers that presented more solid evidence. The picture was interesting, but at this point, most agree that it was a mangy bear and not a teeny-bopper bigfoot.

Best film that was finally released to the public after Allen Klein came to his senses and did the right thing:

El Topo, by Alejandro Jodorowsky

Best film that was even more fucked up than El Topo:

The Holy Mountain, by Alejandro Jodorowsky

Best sneeze:

A tie between my roommates Kreg and Rich

Even grosser than the Cup Girls video award:

The Pain Olympics video.
--
Ok, there may be a part II, but for now I'm going to wrap this up. Stay tuned.

Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm weak, maybe I'm strong, but never the less I'm in love with you

Christmas is now behind us and, even though it's allure, or most of it, has long since left me, I'm a little sad to see it go. As far as Christmas's go, this one was pretty good. Nothing exceptional, to be sure, but not a drag.

The highlights.

--My bed got a make-over. My parents got me new pillows, sheets, a blanket, and a comforter. The comforter is what I needed, but everything else is a nice addition.

--I also got a couple of sweaters from my mother that I probably would have bought for myself. My mother's not terrible at picking out clothes for me, but she's had some severe misses in the past. She was dead on this year.

--On a whim, I bought my niece Colleen a teddy bear. It turned out to be her favorite present, or at least made her top five. Not bad, considering she hides from me every time I see her. She's only three, in case you're wondering. It's why I'm not too upset. I'm used to this reaction from women.

--Colleen, not long after bumping me from my spot at the table (I'll cover that later), enlisted my aid in helping her find a hiding spot when a neighbor appeared at the door. I hid her behind wrapping paper-filled trash bags. What made it so sweet was when she told me to hide with her. I did, and I'm happy to report no one found us.

--Got to spend some time with Spira on Christmas eve. We watched the Rufus Wainwright does Judy Garland concert and ate some of the Greek food I made. Hadn't seen too much of her lately, so it was a nice occasion.

--Luke Warm and I bought each other 'o8 editions of NBA games for our Playstations. He suggested we do this because otherwise we'd never get past the 'o5 editions we both own. It was a good idea and I got the EA Sports edition and he got the 2k8 edition, which was the same manufacturer as the '05 ones we own. I'm still getting used to the new style of game play, but I'm psyched I got at least one toy this Christmas.

-- I got to see my cousin Erin. She lives out in Colorado, and it's a rare event when she comes to town. She's one of my favorite cousins and probably the nicest person I've ever met.

--Brian, Erin's brother, went to Sears with his two roommates and posed for some of the cheesiest Christmas pictures you could imagine. They really did it up: they wore their hair slicked back and had on the corniest clothes. The three of them looked like Norman Rockwell rejects as they posed on a sled and by a Christmas tree.When I saw one of the pictures on my grandmother's door, I couldn't stop laughing. My aunt walked over and asked me if I should worry about her son. I told her he's a genius and that I wished I had thought of the idea first. I'm desperate to get some of these pics. There's a suggestive one of Brian bending over with a cheeky expression on his face as Santa looms behind him that I'm dying to see.

--When I got home last night, I curled up under my new blankets and watched Citizen Kane. It was the perfect night cap.


The lowlights.

--I didn't gas my car up before Christmas, so when I was leaving for my grandmother's house I noticed I was on empty and that every gas station I passed was closed. I eventually found one on my way home, but the I didn't need the stress leading up to that point.

--At my parent's house on Christmas eve, I got bumped from my position at the dinner table by Colleen. I brought my food into the dining room and put it down a couple of seats away from Colleen and then went into the kitchen to grab a drink. On my way back to the table, my mother, in a solemn whisper, asked me to find another seat because Colleen didn't want me sitting near her. "She's afraid of you", she added. I laughed and asked her where I should sit. She suggested the other end of the table. "Perhaps I should sit in the other room", I said. My mother thought it over and thought it would be ok if I remained in the dining room, that it would be silly for me to eat in another room. I should have have told her that I was not going to move my seat, that because I had seniority over her, Colleen should have been the one to move if she had a problem. I would have made her eat in the dark and scary basement. Then she'd know the true meaning of fear.

--It's possible this was the last Christmas with my grandmother. She's ninety and her health is failing her with greater frequency. I think everyone felt the same thing; it hung over the day like a fine mist.

--There was some absurd tension in my house over the weekend that didn't need to be there. Some of it was cleared up today when I talked to Kreg, but most of it, which concerns Rich, needs to be addressed. I imagine it won't be a big deal clearing the air, but considering that what this shit is all about is, at least in my mind, so minor that it couldn't be a big deal if it practiced at it eight hours a day, I'm not holding my breath. When someone avoids you like the plague for over two weeks and you find out it's because they don't like the fact that you leave a door open sometimes--not one that leads to the outside, mind you-- you don't take anything for granted.

--With all the grandchildren and couples around me at my grandmother's house, I felt the pang of loneliness, something I've been too acquainted with. Fortunately, no one ever gives me the third degree about why I'm perpetually single.

--I missed out on seeing Janelle on Christmas eve. I was leaving my parents to go see her and Spira when she called and told me she had to head out. I haven't seen her in a while, so I was looking forward to the opportunity, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. There will be other occasions, however.

--Nana got me a totally gangsta'd out hoodie. This is not necessarily a lowlight, but I had to put it somewhere. I can't be sure, but it looks like it has the royal crest of the House of Windsor emblazoned on the front. Mind you, that is hardly gangsta, but when you look at it real quick, you'd have no problem envisioning Nas wearing it.

So, overall a good holiday. Next up, New Year's. But before then, I will watch the Celtics and then finish watching Roger Ebert's commentary on Citizen Kane.

O Vos Omnes

The last few days have been busy ones for me. No surprise, that, with Christmas around the bend. I just finished wrapping gifts and making out cards, an act I generally loathe. I consider myself a decent writer, but when it comes to writing cards, I suck. I do all right with the ones for friends, but when it comes to my family, forget about it. My vocabulary is suddenly reduced to thirty words and any sentiment I express comes off as corny and dim-witted. I just spent the last twenty minutes writing a card to my grandmother and I bombed. Oh, well, at least I got through it. It would have been worse if I let the card do the talking for me. I haven't sunk to that level yet.
--

Went to Andy's party last night and it was an exceptional one. Had some great conversations and was lucky enough not to engage in any small talk. I discovered, while talking with Bridgette, Sara, and Chrissy, that I wasn't alone in my distaste for Rachel Ray. In fact, one of the people there, a guy named Eric who is now my hero, wore a picture of her on his back. He did this because the theme of the party was for everyone to wear the ugliest sweater they owned. Well, Eric had everyone beat, in my opinion. For the record, I should clarify that I don't think Rachel Ray is an ugly person, even though she could store kindling in that gaping maw of hers. No, it's her soul that is ugly, every black, self-promotional, non-stop yapping, bit of it. We also discussed our mutual fascination for Bindy Irwin and disgust that rivals, if not exceeds, Rachel Rays, for Tyra Banks. So, great party and it was a relief to get away from the pervasive negativity that's been in my house, of late. It settles over you like ashes from the sky. To be around festive, laughing people, was just what the doctor ordered.
--
Tomorrow, I will go to my parents to celebrate Christmas with my immediate family. To my recollection, it's the first time we've done it a day before. I look forward to seeing everyone and then seeing some friends after that. It should prove to be another fun day, if things go as I expect they will.

Now, I'm off to do some reading. You're dismissed.

You can radiate everything you are

There was a time not so long ago when I got into an altercation with an eleven year old. He was the brother of one of my coworkers and he was an asshole. He was also punchy. For some reason I didn't take very well to him punching and kicking me. Telling him to stop had zero effect on his actions. After about thirty seconds more of his abuse, whatever sense of decorum I had thus far maintained was quickly replaced with something bestial. I regained composure, but not before I shoved his skinny little frame away from me. Had he come back at me, who knows, there may have been a fight, but I'd like to think I would have been above that. If there had been a fight, no matter what side I came out on, I would have lost.

Let's say I beat the shit out of him---which, given the difference in our sizes, wouldn't have been too unlikely---how would I be perceived? That's right, I'd be perceived as a bully, a guy who preys on those smaller and weaker than him. And I guess, in the final analysis, the perception would be accurate. So, even though I gave him what he had coming, I'd be the bad guy.

Now, if because I didn't want to go to jail for going to town on this kid, I let him have at me, let him inflict whatever damage he was capable of inflicting on my undefended body, I would be perceived as a weak-ass who couldn't go toe-to-toe with a little kid.

No matter what the outcome, if he and I fought, I'd lose. Sometimes there are no good choices. I hope you all learned something from that engrossing tale. Everything you need to know about life is found within it's grip. And in case you're interested, I eventually tracked that little shit down and broke his jaw for him.
--
I do not like this snowing every other day business one bit. It's a repulsive gesture by Mother Nature and I'm sickened by it. I will sever ties with her and cast my lot with the Industrialists. At least they're up front with their bullshit.

Ok, I'm out. A few quick thoughts before I go.

--I think I'm done swooning over someone who is obviously not interested. Not as hard as I thought it would have been. Once I woke up to the fact that I held her in higher regard than she held me, my course was clear. It's a little sad to think about what could have been, but I won't linger on that thought. Better to let it, and everything else concerning my amorous feelings for her, be cast out to sea, where, as they say, there are other fish.

--My shower drain is still clogged. It's been weeks and nothing has changed. Our landlord hasn't exactly been on the ball with this one. Why the fuck does every little thing have to blow up into something knotted and massive?

--Time for some Herzog. Now, I'm officially out.

I came out two days on your tail

For the last week, I've bandied about the idea of retiring this blog. More than bandy, actually; I was pretty committed to the notion. The reasons I was prepared to take this measure are multi-fold, as are the reasons I've decided, at least in the meantime, to continue writing in this format.

I have to say, I didn't see it coming, this potential retirement. I had been pleased with my recent posts, even, and perhaps, especially the ones that shuttled off the planet into realms bizarre and depraved. Content aside, I was satisfied with the overall flow and structure. And with content considered, I was happy to see my writing given a creative jolt. In fact, these flights of fancy were therapeutic. Much of it was written to cheer me up during some difficult times. It's hard to be down when you're writing about your roommates drugging and sexually abusing you or about your landlord's brother spying on you in the shower via a camera in the drain. If nothing else, these posts lightened up an otherwise dark period.

Which brings me to why I was poised to put an abrupt end to it all. When I started this blog, my aim was to stick to a few guidelines regarding who and what I wrote about. Here's the gist:

--Do not write about any one's personal problems, even if it relates to me, unless given permission. And even then, use caution. So, if Ark Mitton has been snorting coke off the pool boy's chest for the last two years unbeknownst to his wife Ecky, I'm not going to report on it, as tantalizing as the story may be. Even if I was the pool boy, would I steer clear of that situation.

--If someone asks to be left out of the blog, leave them out. Depending on the context, however, I'll continue to write about them, only I'll give them a pseudonym. I've only done this once, and only because this person has an active membership in my life. Still, though, the pseudonym doesn't grant me carte blanche to reveal more about them than I would otherwise.

-- Everything else is up for grabs.

I stayed true to the guidelines and,while there was the occasional need to omit certain events and situations, I wasn't hamstrung in my writing. It helped that, from the outset, my aim was never to mirror a gossip rag. However, over time it became increasingly difficult to write about things that mattered to me because of the people involved. Case in point: the anonymous woman I've pined over throughout the blog. There was an internal struggle going on that I only scratched the surface of. Wanting to spare her and myself potential embarrassment, I chose, and rightly, I believe, not to expound on the situation. But I wanted to, if only to sort out my feelings.

Even when I wrote highly fictionalized accounts of some of the people in my life, I realized, by portraying them in an unflattering light---to wit: Kreg in a Swiss Miss outfit about to rape me---there was the possibility they would misinterpret my intentions and find the whole thing offensive. Which was why I was careful to select people who knew my sense of humor or people, like my landlord's brother, who I was positive would never read my blog. Still, though, I think I may have made at least one person uncomfortable and, though that was not my intention, I can understand why.

I came to the conclusion that perhaps the best option for me would be to keep writing, but not in this format. If I kept a private journal, one that only I would have access to, I could really let loose. I'd be able to write about anyone and everything I wanted to. And, let's face it, I haven't exactly been providing a service to anyone with this blog, at least as far as I know. What I should have done was just dropped it. No need for a friggin' press conference.

Anyway, I'm still not sure what I'm going to do. A part of me is ready to move on to something else, a new format. Another part, however, is still having fun with this one, and is of a mind to write about any damn thing it wants to write about. And why not? I'm not forcing anyone to read this. Damn straight!

Anyway, I'll probably keep this going, and if I feel the need to be more private with my writing, I can always keep a concurrent blog. So, if you can stomach more posts about things mundane and things depraved, and things in between, then stick around. If my writing unsettles you, I offer my condolences.

So long.

Drawing by the purple pond, yellow ink that flows blue flowers

I suppose I should start doing some Christmas shopping soon. I'm going to see if I can convince someone who also needs to do their's to go with me. That way, the sting of no parking spots, crowded stores, and long lines won't hurt as much. We could do lunch, or dinner, depending on when we go. It would be soooooooooo much fun. We could go hot tubbing afterwards. Any takers? Don't be shy.
--
I've been having strange dreams recently that I've been reluctant to share, but because I'm willing to do anything for my craft, I've decided to let it all out. I feel it is my duty as a citizen of the world to issue this disclaimer before I proceed,though: Until this matter is investigated further, I'm working under the assumption that these are, as I stated above, only dreams. As you read on, you will understand the need for the disclaimer.

The first dream occurred on Sunday night. Nothing strange proceeded it; my day was as mundane as any other. At some point, probably around nine, Kreg and Rich made me a milk shake. It was a nice surprise; I had been watching a movie in the living room (Air Bud ) when they came in the room and presented it to me. They were eager for me to accept it, which I did gladly. No one ever surprises me like that. It was such a nice gesture that I didn't say anything about the shake's bitter after-taste.

"How does it taste?", Rich asked me.

"Not bad. Is it vanilla?"

They both looked at each other and then back at me. "Uh, yeah, it's vanilla", Kreg said. "Make sure you drink it all. I'd hate to see it go to waste."

"Aren't you guys having any?"

"Oh, we had our fill already", Rich said. "I had two glasses. I would have had another, but I've got to watch the 'ol waistline. You're going to finish that, right?"

I had finished about half of it, but wasn't sure if I could stomach much more than that. Whatever gave the shake it's strange aftertaste was also starting to make me a little nauseous. "There's a ninety percent chance I'll consume the entire shake. I'm just going to take a little break; just got one of those ice cream headaches."

"You should finish it now", Rich said a little too loudly. "I mean, that is, if you want to."

"I'm getting the sense you guys would prefer it if I consumed this entire shake. Fret not, I will, because you guys were pretty thoughtful in preparing this for me, make it a point to not let a drop of this shake escape my gullet. Thanks again, guys."

"Our pleasure", Kreg said. "Just make sure you finish it sometime soon before it, uh, goes bad."

I told him I would and returned to my movie. I didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't enjoying the taste, butI held true to my word and drank the entire shake. I barely made it through the rest of the movie with my eyes open. When it was over, I went right up to bed and dozed off, still in my clothes. I must have begun dreaming almost immediately because as I was drifting off, I heard Kreg and Rich arguing downstairs about who was going to get "sloppy seconds". Very odd, but dreams often are.

When the dream hit, it was extremely vivid. I was being carried down to the basement by at least two people and was unceremoniously dropped like a sack of grain on the floor a few feet from the stairs. I heard someone above me say "I think he's awake! I think he's awake!" in a panicked voice. I lacked the strength necessary to crane my neck to see who was speaking. In fact, I had trouble moving any part of my body. To get my pinky finger to move a centimeter required every bit of will and concentration I could muster.

All of a sudden, Rick, my landlord's brother, was looking down at me. "He don't know what's what. He don't know nuthin'. Stop your worryin', Richie-boy", he said.

Rich appeared beside Rick. He was wearing a loosely-tied bathrobe and I could see that he was wearing only a green thong under it. "I don't know about this, Boss. I think he sees us."

Rick slapped Rich hard in the face. "Get yourself together, Richie-boy. Like I told ya, he don't know what's what."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kreg moving around. I barely recognized him; he was dressed like the girl on the Swiss Miss package, right down to the pig-tailed wig. "Kreg, what the fuck are you guys doing with me?", I tried to say. What came out was "Kreg, what.....with..........me", in a barely audible, mush-mouthed groan.

Kreg rushed over to where Rick and Rich were standing. "He just said something. I heard him. Boss, if he's awake, we're going to have put an end to him. You do realize that, don't you?"

Rick put his arm around Kreg. "Kreggy-poo, my liddle Kreggy-Weggy-kins, I do realize that. In fact, nothing would please me more than for him to wake up. I need only the slightest excuse to commit the glorious act of murder upon him. But I'd also like a warm body for what we're about to do. Now, give me a deep, wet kiss while Richie-boy ties up this unconscious cum dumpster."

The dream ended there. I woke up feeling groggy and had a splitting headache. I went down to the kitchen and made some coffee. Rich came out of his room and wore a wry grin on his face. "Morning. How are you feeling?", he asked me.

"Funny you should ask. I think I'm coming down with something. My head is throbbing and...."

"You didn't find, uh, a dirty diaper in your bed this morning, did you?"

"A....A what? A dirty.....Why would I have a diaper in my bed? Did you put one there?"

"No, no, no", Rich said rapidly. " I, uh, I was just uh, I mean, my brother had his baby over the house this morning and he thinks the baby got away and maybe got up to your room..."

"That's absurd. Is this a joke you're playing on me?"

"Nah, forget I said anything."

"Hey, you don't happen to own a green thong, do you?" I asked.

"A thong? Uh, no, I wear boxers, dude."

"I think I had a dream about you wearing a thong. Don't worry, we weren't having sex, or anything. I just recall seeing you in one."

"Did you, uh, have any other dreams about me?", he asked quietly.

"I don't think so".

"Cool!", he said as he went back in his room. With coffee in hand, I made my way back to my room. Kreg popped out of his as I reached the top of the stairs. "How's it going?", he asked.

"Hey, was anyone over the house this morning?"

"I don't think so. I was up earlier than usual and was downstairs for most of the morning. Why do you ask?"

"Rich said his brother was over the house with his baby. And he said the baby may have gotten up to my room and left a dirty diaper in my bed. What's up with that?"

"You know what? Now that I think of it, his brother may have been over the house. If I remember correctly, I fell asleep for awhile. Maybe that's why I didn't see him."

"I haven't heard one probable thing out either of your mouth's this morning. You know, I just realized, you were in a dream I had last night. Rich was in it, too, and you looked different. I think you wearing........."

Kreg poked his head in my room. "You didn't find the diaper, right?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, if you do, you should give it to Rich. His brother is probably looking for it. I'm sure he'll be wanting it for later tonight."

"Why would he want it for later? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Nothing, dude. Don't sweat it. I just figured if you found the diaper, you'd want it out of your room." With that, Kreg went back to his room.

Throughout the day, more details of the dream came to me. I didn't bother mentioning it to Kreg or Rich because I thought I freaked Rich out with the thong question. Unfortunately for me, more dreams were to follow.

You go to my head

You go to my head
and you linger like a haunting refrain
and I find you spinning 'round in my brain
like the bubbles in a glass of champagne.

You go to my head
like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew
and I find the very mention of you
like the kicker in a julep or two.

The thrill of the thought
that you might give a thought to my plea
casts a spell over me
till I say to myself
get ahold of yourself!
Can't you see that it never can be?

You go to my head
with a smile that makes my temperature rise
like a summer with a thousand Julys.
You intoxicate my soul with your eyes.

Though I'm certain that this heart of mine
hasn't a ghost of a chance
in this crazy romance,
you go to my head.

Been listening to Rufus Wainwright's Judy Garland cd and the Who's Quadrophenia exclusively for the last few days. A strange pairing, but it's working out well for me. Just thought you should know.

Here's your moment of synchronicity for the week. I've had it in my head to cook a turkey after Amanda told me about the one she prepared on Thanksgiving and it sounded so good, I figured I'd give it a try. Anyway, I was grilling Kim at work today about how much turkeys cost and other things about them that I'm pretty sure I should know already. In the middle of the discussion, the phone rang and it was someone asking if we rented vats to cook turkeys in. Never got a call like that before.

So what is the significance of the call. I think it portends something huge, something epochal, concerning me and a turkey. Whether I cook one or end up in a romantic relationship with one, who knows. All I know is that things are gonna get interesting, son.

I will report back in full, leaving nothing out, as things develop.

Here by the sea and sand, nothing ever goes as planned

Went to Nana's ninetieth birthday party today. She was confined to a chair for most of the day, due to severe muscle spasms in her back; a by product of a larger back problem that had her hospitalized a few days ago. My cousin, Megan, who's a physical therapist, knelt beside her and massaged her back throughout most of the party. The scene was a sweet one and left me a little sad. I can't stop the passage of time; I can't make her young again. But I love her; an ineffable and abiding love; and maybe that's enough.

I got to see my Uncle Dick and Aunt Shelly, who flew in from North Carolina to attend the party. Dick is a retired Air Force General and I peppered him with questions about flying. He explained to me Bernoulli's Principle and described what it was like to pilot a glider, alone and wide open in the quiet expanse of the sky.

My Uncle Gene regaled a few of us with tales of his youth spent in Ireland. The one about watching his brother put a live chicken into a meat grinder was captivating. After completing the story, Gene sat there for a few moments, shaking his head in seemingly sudden realization that his brother was a nut job.

At one point, someone brought up Dane Cook. I cautioned myself to keep quiet about my feelings concerning him, lest I upset those at the table who were fans of his. Much to my pleasure, everyone chimed in about how much he annoyed them.

I love my family.

And I'll give you my eyes for the colors that rise

I was busier than a ball in a room full of puppies at work yesterday. Made the day go by quickly, but there were several close calls that endangered things running smoothly, but they were overcome with grace and ease. By Kim, not me. I was an emotional wreck; I hid in the bathroom, staring in the mirror, red faced and weepy, trying to coax myself back to work. "You get yourself back out there soldier and make it work. You make it work or it's your ass. Your ass, I tell you!", I said through gritted teeth. As drained as I was at day's end, I came home and did some yoga, which actually gave me a bit more energy.

I bought a package of salmon wraps at the sushi bar after work and threw one of them away by accident. I intended to put it back in the fridge and somewhere along the line it made it to the trash instead. The reason I bring this up is because I actually considered retrieving the food from the trash once I realized my folly, which was about forty five minutes later. I figured that if it was still in it's close-to-airtight package and at the surface of the trash, then perhaps it wouldn't be such a gross thing to put it in the fridge and eat it later. In the end, I chose to cast my lot with the civilized people of the world and left the food where it was. Maybe if it didn't involve raw salmon, things would have been different. Probably not, but who knows. And it became an easy decision once I remembered that Kreg and Rich often use the trash barrel as a toilet. Fucking animals!

--
Amanda, new to this blog, read some of my Thanksgiving post to her mother; mostly the vulgar parts about the different methods I've used to get out of my Nana's house without getting sidetracked. I can only imagine what her mother must think of me. The horror! Short of retracting what I wrote, I want to point out that I was not myself when that post was written. I've come to find out, even though I don't have what others would call proof, that Rick, my landlord's brother, had dosed my coffee with oxy's and crystal meth that night and, consequently, I can't be held accountable for what was published. How I think that twisted son of a bitch pulled it off, I won't get into now. I probably should confront him, but my heart tells me to let him be; soon enough, Lucifer, the fallen angel, will get a hold of him and will rape his ass eight ways to Sunday for eternity in the cauldron of Hell.

All of that being said, I will accept responsibility for all of the repulsive things that I wrote. When your heart is as pure as the driven snow, as mine obviously is, that is what you do. I did, however, come across the post I had intended on publishing before that sinister bastard, Rick foiled my plans. Hopefully, by publishing it now, the real me will shine through and people, like Amanda's mother, won't view me as a wretched, vulgar, monster. I present to you the post in it's entirety.

Golly, what a splendid Thanksgiving I had! I awoke that morning to the sound of a bird chirping it's melodious song outside my window. I hopped out of bed, opened the window, and there, on a nearby branch, sat a Blue Jay! "Good morning, Mr. Blue Jay!", I exclaimed. "What a magnificent creature you are. Why don't you come on up here so I can give you a treat." I reached in my drawer and pulled out the "birdie snack-pack" I keep at the ready for occasions such as these, and poured some seeds into my palm. When the Blue Jay landed on my sill, I was ready for him. As he feasted on the seeds, I stroked his pretty blue head and said nice things about him that, if his face was structured like mine, would have made him smile.

After Mr. Blue Jay finished his Thanksgiving feast, I laid a soft kiss on his beak and sent him on his way. "Pay it forward, little buddy. Pay it forward", I called out as he flew off into the distance.

The guys were still sleeping, so I put off making them breakfast for a while. I got into my sweat suit and practiced tai-chi in the park for an hour, followed by a pleasant twelve mile jog. When I returned to the house it was still relatively early---almost seven o'clock--so I jogged over to the local soup kitchen and served breakfast to Somerville's finest. I exchanged some friendly banter with Eric, who came waltzing in around eight o'clock.

"So what's on the menu today, Chief?" he asked me. "How about whipping me up a five cheese omelette and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice?"

"Nice try, Eric. It's cornbread and coffee. Same as always."

"Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask", he said.

What a rascal Eric is!

When I got back to the house around eleven thirty, Kreg and Rich were just getting up so I made them some fresh coffee and my famous turkey-shaped pancakes with a side of fresh fruit. They ate like savage animals, groaning and moaning, with crumbs and spittle all over their faces. It was quite the display, but I was pleased that they enjoyed the meal and gave a silent word of thanks to the Creator that I was able to provide joy and comfort to my friends.

Later on at Nana's house, I made an announcement. "Everyone, I am truly blessed to have such a decent, caring family, but I'm afraid I have to leave you."

"Oh, no, you can't go yet", Nana said with a shake of her head. "I just put coffee on."

"I'm sorry Nana, but I'm needed elsewhere. The time I've spent with you all today has nourished my heart and I'm thankful each and every one of you is a part of my life. You are so very dear to me; you are welded to my soul; and even though I'd be up for some more good times with you, I'm looking forward to my next destination."

"Where would that be", my Uncle Gene said in a voice laced with new-born anguish.

"THE ORPHANAGE!" I roared, whipping my hand skyward, as if in victory.

"But we're your family", my lovely niece Kiley said.

I knelt down and put my arm around her. "That is true, Kiley, but the children at the orphanage aren't as lucky as me. They have no family."

"They don't have mothers or fathers? Or brothers and sisters?"

"They don't, and that is why I must go to them. "

"Can I come with you?", she asked.

"If your mother and father say it's alright. It would be nice having assistance handing out all the pies that I baked."

"Well, I think you should take some leftovers before you go", Nana said.

"Well, okay, Nana, that would be a swell idea. You are very kind to share your food with me. I thank God on my knees every day and every night that you are my grandmother."

While Nana put my care package together, I called the rest of my family into the dining room one by one, as I do every Thanksgiving, and gave them each a personalized and heartfelt goodbye. When that was through I returned to the kitchen to check the status of my leftovers.

"How's it coming, Nana?"

"How's what coming, dear?"

"The left overs".

"Oh, you wanted left overs? You should have told me. Why don't you go have a seat and I'll put some together for you."

"I'm sorry, Nana, but I must be going. The children--I have to think of the children."

"It'll only take a few minutes. Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower. Showers are very relaxing."

I was beginning to grow frustrated with my inability to leave the house. The whole time in the shower, I thought of how disappointed the children would be if I didn't show up soon. It would be the first time in twelve years that I showed up late. "I can't let them down", I thought.

When I checked in with Nana after the shower, she hadn't gotten my leftovers together. I wasn't thrilled about her duplicity in keeping me there. I walked up to her and grabbed her by the neck, pulling her in tight. "You've been fucking around with me, haven't you, woman?" I growled in her ear. " What, you think I haven't sniffed out your deceit? All of this shit with the leftovers has gotten on my last nerve. I'm about to blow, and when I do, your walls will be covered in brains, blood, and bone."

My Uncle Gene stepped up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. "Take it easy, Kevin. She meant no harm."

"Get your hand off me, son!", I bellowed. "I will peel away your spine and strangle you with it. Do not touch me again, unless you mean to court me."

He backed away and everyone looked at me like I was a rabid wolf. "What the fuck are you sluts looking at?" I shrieked. "Do you want me to bleed for you? Is that what you want?".

They remained silent. I went over to the sink and picked up the carving knife. I rolled up my sleeve and dragged the blade across my arm. I let the blood pour into my cupped hand and walked over to my stunned relatives. "I'm out of here, bitches, but don't worry---I'm leaving a part of myself with you." I then flung my blood in their direction, much of it settling on their faces and clothing. With that, I stormed out of the house, not looking back once.

Overall, it was a good holiday. A solid A-minus.

I took her on a simple trip to see her husband's family, and on the way upon her hip, was laid my hand down gently

Okay, maybe I do have something to say tonight. Something has been gnawing at me pretty good and I figured I'd share it. See, I was feeling frustrated that my drain hasn't been unclogged yet. My landlord's brother, Rick, has been heard clanking around in the basement these past couple of days, ostensibly messing around with pipes under our tub, but to no positive effect.

Well, I decided to take action. I miss the shower experience and it's seductive allure, so I didn't feel bad about circumventing whatever Rick was doing to rectify the problem. But something happened when I stepped up to the tub: I realized that the drain could be clogged because some sick fuck, probably Rick, planted a camera in it so that he could get a bird's eye view of our sweetbreads while we showered. I'm sure his clanking around on the pipes in the basement was just for show. He has no intention of clearing the drain because he hasn't gotten his jollies enough yet watching us shower. But he must know that if the drain stays clogged, we won't be showering as often, or as long. Maybe he's trying to rig a camera that will capture us showering all lathered up and sexy (oooohh, baby), one that is tiny enough not to obstruct the passage of water, piss, semen, and whatever else Kreg and Rich are depositing in there.

I hope Rick figures something out soon because I want to take a nice, hot soak.

She knew how to gather the forest ,when God reached softly and moved her body

Earlier today, I had the lift gate to our pick up truck fall on my toe. To make matters more interesting, there were about twelve folding chairs on it when it fell. After doing the Flinstone Flop for a minute or two, I realized no damage was done. In fact, my toe is as fine as it was before the accident. Maybe I'm some kind of super hero who has the ability, like Wolverine, to heal rapidly. To test the theory, I'm going to have one of my coworkers dump a bucket of burning pitch over my head while another empties the barrel of a sawed-off shot gun into my crotch. I just have to wait for them to round up the pitch and the gun. We should know the results by the end of the day.

--

I was walking behind a woman on the sidewalk tonight and she almost slipped and fell on the ice. Immediately after it happened, I had a memory from childhood of being at church flash in my mind. How being in church and watching someone slip on some ice are related, I'll never know. This wasn't the first time something like that happened to me. Very strange. I also get a lot of almost-deja vu's. I say almost because as soon as the deja vu occurs, I forget why it was a deja vu in the first place. Does that make sense? I didn't think so.
--
My thoughts are fractured. I can't focus very well on writing tonight. I was going to get into how dogs know are unflinching in their love and devotion. When they attach their sails to your ship, that's it. And maybe there wasn't any forethought involved; maybe it was just in the cards. And then I was going to relate all of that to myself, but frankly, I'm can't go any further. Some thoughts are best left unspoken.

With that, I'll end this. I'm in a weird state of mind right now and can't say whether it's good or bad. Nothing for it but to go put my clothes in the dryer and keep forging ahead.

You may have all you want, baby, but I got something you need

I went for an abbreviated run last night. I stuck to the bike path and surveyed it's length for ice patches before I ran. It was not a joyous experience. When I returned to the apartment, I took a quick shower, even though the drain was still clogged. It was my first one in a few days and, like the run, it was not a joyous event. I look forward to tonight, when things should be back to normal. Once it's fixed, I'll have to address Kreg and Rich about not shaving each other's pubes in the tub. I'm all about team work, but lay some newspaper on the ground and do it over that, I say. We'll put it to a vote and see what happens.
--
People always ask me about the aspects of my life that I don't include in this journal. Naturally, they want to know me completely, so that maybe a little of my glory may rub off on them. I understand that, but there's got to be some things I keep just for myself. There needs to a private Kevin, one that isn't held firmly under the scrutiny of the public eye. But, because the holidays are upon us, I'm going to give you a peek into the the "real" me.

Because a dangerous, sexy, and influential life should be documented, I've kept a running journal that deals with the deeper, more meaningful parts of my life, so that in the future, biographers will have something to reference. What I'm prepared to do, and only this one time, is share a few selections from that journal. Enjoy.


06/05/06

Dear diary,

The 'rents got mad at me today when I told them I wasn't going to their big anniversary party. I'm sorry, but they know I don't drive at night and what do they do? They schedule a party at night. I wouldn't have gone anyway, even if they found someone to drive me, 'cuz they're showing a whole shitload of Malcolm in the Middle episodes that night. Uh, let's see: Malcolm, which is F-IN AWE SOME!!!!!, or a boring anniversary party. Tough decision...........NOT!! LOL


09/12/07

My T-shirts finally arrived!! For the past week and a half, I've been going nuts waiting for these darn things. The wait is over, dear diary, the F-in wait is over!!! Okay, so you wanna know which ones I got? The first one says "Forget love, I'd rather fall in chocolate". ROTFL!!! The next one says "Let me get out of this hot T-shirt". AWESOME!!! I was going to stop there, but I saw more I wanted to get, like this one: "Caution: I go from O to bitch in 1.5 seconds" I couldn't pass on that one. And how could I let this one escape my clutches: "Women have to be in the mood.......men just have to be in the room". OMG, it's so true! Everyone's gonna be so jealous of me. They're gonna be like "Yo, that guy knows what's up". Oh, diary, I love these shirts so much. I'm gonna wear them all to bed tonight. Yes, you heard me right: I'm gonna wear them ALL at once. I know, I know---you think I'm "koo-koo", but I'm so excited.

05/1/06

My sister broke the bad news to me today. There will not be a Beanie Babies movie. I repeat: There will NOT be a Beanie Babies movie. I'm kind of p.o.'d at my sister for getting me excited over this in the first place. Well, maybe someday they'll make the movie. Until then, I'm gonna be a miserable S.O.B.

03/10/07

OMG. Luke Warm let a little girl drown today. Oh, diary, what should I do? She fell through the ice and started screaming for help. Luke looked at me and said "Someone should probably help her". I had just gotten my toes done, so there was no way I was going in that frigid water. I told Luke Warm he should go help her and he was like, "Why don't you do it?" and I was like "You know I just got my toes done. D'uh!" and he was like "Well, forget it, then. I'm sure she'll find her way to safety. It's not my fault she fell through the ice." What an A-hole! I didn't talk to him the whole walk home.

04/11/07

Koolio was signing autographs at CVS this morning, and after waiting for like two hours in line, I left. I love Koolio as much as the next guy, but I've got a life, son.

Kreg told me he caught Mike putting eggs in his pocket when he was at the house the other night. I was wondering why I was so short when I went to make snickerdoodles yesterday . I asked Kreg why he didn't tell me sooner and he said it was because Mike threatened to "violate" him if he told. "I'm sure Mike was joking", I said, and Kreg was like "Uh, no dude, he was serious---scary serious." Dear diary, I would never tell anyone this, but Kreg started crying after he said this. When he left the room, I whispered "What a baby", but I don't think he heard me. Mike really must have put the fear into him.

I was going to confront Mike about the situation, but I'm not going to have a cow over a few eggs. Instead, I snuck into his house while he was at work and jerked off all over his pillows.
--

So, there you have it. I know it's just a taste, just a small glimpse into the "real" me, but it's better than nothing.

No place for hiding baby, no place to run, you pull the trigger of my love gun

It took me forever to chip the ice off my windshield this morning. I didn't expect to have to deal with this frigid winter wasteland this early on. Everything about the weather smacks of February or March. It's bullshit and I don't like it. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I suppose I could move to a warmer climate, but how could I abandon the children at the orphanage?
--



Spira and I went out for Greek food last night and then hung out in front of the fireplace at Starbucks. I usually don't go to Starbucks, but I had one of the best coffee drinks there. I got a peppermint, white chocolate latte. It was either that or an eggnog latte, but, in the end, there was really no choice. Spira got the eggnog and, though she enjoyed it, she lamented her choice once she had a sip of my drink.


--


For some reason, I thought I'd be able to take a run yesterday. After dressing for the occasion, I stepped outside and quickly realized that, unless I wanted to break a bone or two slipping on the ice, there would be no running. Later, driving on Mass Ave, I saw a woman jogging. A braver soul than I, that one. I bet she's in the hospital with a broken hip and jaw.

--



Still feel a little strange about my work situation. Do I need to walk on eggshells? Could the slightest misstep cost me my job? As was evident over the weekend, I certainly don't have much in the way of job security, but if I'm too timid about doing my job, if I'm fretting over every action I take, then I won't be an effective employee, or mentally stable for that matter. No, I've got to play it cool. Just like the Fonz.

--
There was a grim cast to my day today, so I tried to balance things out by directing my thoughts to rosier places. It seemed to work; I haven't hurt myself yet. Actually, if you count teasing, then I guess I have hurt myself; but only a little. I thought about all sorts of things, from the seemingly insignificant to the big and important. Into the soup was stirred images of friends past and present,; a film I was looking forward to watching; a restaurant I wanted to go to; her, and her effortless ability to render me dreamy and weakened every time I see or talk to her; a recalled scene from The Office; you name it. I don't know how much of an effect these thoughts had on my physiology, but it was better than moping.

Surrender, and don't give yourself away

Gloomy, post-snow pervasiveness: it's everywhere: outside my window, in my bones, my heart, my thoughts, the music I'm listening to, the news I heard: every where. I'm riding with it and it's not so bad; this type of day is good for the soul, though it would appear to be otherwise. I do hope, though, that I see the Sun in both the literal and metaphorical sense sometime soon. That is even better for the soul.

The drain in our tub is so clogged up now, it's belched up enough filthy water to make the tub, once a haven of cleanliness, a virtual cesspool. No showers for me until that problem is corrected. I called Marie, our landlord, yesterday and told her about the problem. After the mandatory twenty-plus minutes of strange, arbitrary small-talk from Marie (she lives by herself and I suspect she doesn't have much contact with the world at large), I was a little more hopeful that I'd be taking showers again sometime in the near future.
--

I bought a Drake's apple pie at the White Hen last night and taped it to the refrigerator door. The idea was to see how long it would remain there, whether someone, namely Kreg, would be able to resist the sweet temptation the pie presented. Kreg was informed of the plan--he was there when I bought it--and I was convinced, even though Kreg had already let on that he'd stacked up on snacks already, that I'd come down in the morning and find the pie gone.

To my chagrin, the pie was still on the fridge when I awoke this morning. I'd been anticipating, like a child who leaves out cookies for Santa Claus, evidence of some after-hours dessert mischief in the kitchen. No, Kreg never heeded the Siren's call of the Drake's apple pie. Apparently, he had other sweet delights stashed in his room to occupy his time. But will he be able to resist the impulse to sink his choppers into the pie tonight, now that he's already consumed his stockpile of cookies, candy bars, and who knows what else? I hope not. God, I hope not.

We'd like to help you learn to help yourself

Karen came into work early yesterday morning and, because she hardly ever comes in on a Saturday, I was a bit surprised to see her. About fifteen minutes later, she asked me to come out back and shut the door behind me. Kim had brought her daughter to work for a couple of hours, and I wondered if Karen was going to address me about that. Instead, she fired me.

She started the process by telling me how upset she'd been all week about an incident that took place the day before Thanksgiving. A woman had called right before closing to ask if we'd stick around while until her husband got there. He was stuck in traffic. A while could have meant twenty minutes or an hour and a half. I had no idea. I told her we closed at five, but I'd stick around for a few minutes, but not much longer than that. To make a long story short, she ended up coming by and canceling her order. Kim had dealt with her on that score; I was out back at the time.

Karen got wind of this---apparently this woman was a friend of hers-- and she'd been stewing over it for a week. She told me she didn't run her business like that and felt I was a "7:30 to 5" guy, that it wasn't in my makeup to go the extra mile. Which is fine, she said, but not as far as her business is concerned. So, that incident coupled with feedback from some customers that I turned away their business by claiming we were too busy to make deliveries, was enough for Karen to decide to let me go.

When the bottom dropped from under me-- when she said "I'm letting you go"-- I immediately felt a cold surge of dread. My life was now fucked. I had no prospects, bills to pay, Christmas presents to buy, rent, the works. I was in a mild state of shock. I had not expected this.

She told me that, as a manager, she held me to a higher standard than everyone else, that she wanted me to share her mindset about how the business should be run. And when she heard this negative feedback concerning me, she felt that it was a mentality I had that couldn't be altered.

I wasn't sure if I would be able to salvage my job, but I didn't want to leave with my tail between my legs in sullen defeat. At the least, I wanted to correct her on a few points. I told her that the job meant a lot to me, that as frustrating as it could make me at times, I enjoyed the challenge of it. And, aside from that incident before Thanksgiving, I've stayed late plenty of times for people, and turning away business is not something I generally do. And as far as telling people we were too busy to deliver their rentals, the only reason I would ever do that is because I didn't want to make promises we couldn't keep. If someone wanted us to deliver twenty tables to Brookline at 8:00 and I've already got four orders slated for that time and only one driver, well, yes, I'd say we couldn't do it. But it wouldn't be because I didn't want to be bothered. There was a big difference.

Karen heard me out, and as I talked, her expression warmed up. I told her that if she gave me another chance, I promised I would never turn away business again, that I would stay late when necessary. But I couldn't promise that I wouldn't make more mistakes, because I most certainly would.

She responded by saying she expected me to mistakes and she was fine with that. She told me she believed what I told her, that I made a good case for myself. It was evident to her that I deserved another chance. She told me she'd think about it over the weekend but couldn't promise me anything.

I thanked her and went on to tell her that I've never held anything back from her, even when the stuff that would incriminate me. I took the job seriously and while owning up to my screw ups, I would not accept the notion that I was just there to collect a check.

She knew all, that she said. That was why she hired me. And she felt that personally, there was no problem. We talked a bit longer, and the mood was lightened even more. We joked about aspects of the business we found befuddling and then she told me she liked the way this worked out. We then talked about possible methods to make the ship run smoother. At some point she said we'd meet back in a month and see where we stand.

She left soon after that, and I felt strange the rest of the day. I told Kim what happened and she was struck dumb by the news. I was the last person who should be fired, she told me. She said that if I was let go, she would give Karen an earful. I appreciated the support; it meant a lot. I spoke with Karen a few more times and at one point, she told me that she felt good about our talk. That was good to hear.

It was a strange day. I still felt the dread of losing my job, even though I still had it. My ego was bruised, to be sure. And I was reminded of how quickly things can take a dramatic turn. Losing my job was not high on my list of concerns. I thought it was secure, but is anything really?

I'm grateful for the second chance. I dodged a bullet and hope to learn from the experience. I would have preferred a written warning or a sit down with Karen before she made the decision to let me go. But then it occurred to me, that perhaps the reason she didn't do that was because this way she could gauge how much I wanted the job. If I left without a fight, she'd know that I didn't have too much invested in the work. But, hearing me make my case the way I did, she saw that it was evident that I wanted to stay.

I don't know. Part of me is pissed, but I also understand where she was coming from. This is her business and reputation is important. If she hears that her manager is turning away customers, she has to take measures to correct the situation. I understand that, but I wonder if she needed to go to such dramatic lengths.

Ironically, I had to stay late to wait for a customer who had left some linens behind. Karen had called and told me not to wait around too long, that if I needed to, I could leave them at the restaurant next door. Good idea, I thought. I ended up doing that very thing.

I should point out that Karen, during our initial discussion, told me that if there was ever a time when I couldn't stay late, I should let her know and she would make accommodations. I'll have to take her up on that some time.

What a day it turned out to be. I have a lot to think about: where I'm at , where I'd like to be headed, all that good stuff. It sucks to go through stuff like this, but I'm going to do my best to treat the experience as a gift, albeit one I'd never put on my wish list. Ah, life.

Ground control to Major Tom

I'd just finished a post that involved a fantasy of mine in which I rescue a tiny mermaid from the drain in my shower and she grants me three wishes out of gratitude. Let me tell you, the post got away from me, and that's why I haven't published it. I don't know if I ever will.

It started with this:

Mermaid: You have rescued me from certain death, brave human. You are glorious to behold! I've never seen one of your kind so strikingly handsome, so self assured. I wonder if I have died and passed into the realm of angels.

I responded in arrogance, saying that I didn't need to be told how glorious and self assured I was, that I knew that already. Kind of ridiculous and not very funny, but I liked it enough to leave it in. Then I pulled out the over-used comedic device of the granting of three wishes. The only difference was instead of a genie, a mermaid dispensed them. See, I put a little twist in the scenario. Very clever. Anyway, my first wish went as follows:

Me: Ok, my first wish is for you to get stuck in the drain again, but this time no one rescues you and you die, tangled up in pubic hair and soap scum.

After the mermaid explained to me that due to the nature of the wish, it would be impossible for her to grant me the next two, I replied:

Me: We'll save that one for last, then. I guess I just figured all the wishes would take effect after I placed them. Anyway, let's move on. Why didn't Luke Warm pull that little girl out of the freezing water after she fell through the ice last March?

Obviously, this is strange and probably funny only to me, but I had nothing better to do, so I kept going with it.


Mermaid: He didn't want to get involved.

Me: I knew it! I tried to convince myself that he let her drown because he had a bad back, or something, but I guess I was just making excuses for him. Ok, well why didn't I help her?

Mermaid: Your deeper self knew that this was a test for Luke Warm and that, even though it's in your nature to be a hero, you shouldn't interfere. It was unfortunate that he was unable to overcome his cowardice. That little girl's family suffers greatly to this day and will continue to for the rest of their lives. Unless, of course, you use one of your wishes to erase that event from the annals of time, and thus put an end to their suffering.

I chose not to regard the mermaid's suggestion and went into even stranger territory by making my next wish involve Luke Warm having orgasms every time he saw someone in any kind of pain or sorrow. I don't know where that one came from. Anyway, I present it to you as it was written:

Me: Ok, I wish for Luke Warm to have the most exquisite, pleasurable, and explosive orgasm every time he sees someone suffering. When he sees a baby cry, a dog kicked, a loved one tortured, a child being bullied-- I want him to cum. That will show him.


Why all the hostility towards Luke Warm? You've got me. Maybe it has something to do with him being too much of a Mary to save a girl from drowning. Uh, yeah, that part actually happened.

Things took on a spiritual bent after that, with the mermaid going on about karmic debt and soul development. That was when I decided to abandon the post. It was just too much to deal with at that point. Sometimes you got to know when to fold 'em.

A few times I've been around that track, so it's not just gonna happen like that, because I aint no hollaback girl

After taking a forced hiatus from running the past week and a half, I thought my return to the pavement last night was going to be rough going. Surprisingly, I had one of the better runs I've ever had. I think the fact that I had increased my yoga workouts during my time away from running made the difference. I am now more powerful than you can imagine. I can run faster, jump higher, sleep longer, and take a quicker shower than all of you. Do not fuck with me.
--
Last night, I made some progress with a new song I've been working on. I was able to sew two pieces I wasn't sure would go together into a nice little weave. Worked splendidly, I'm happy to report. Part of what I enjoy about writing is throwing arbitrary pieces together and having the outcome sound seamless and organic. That's the goal, at least. Now I just need to add some lyrics to the mix and I'll be on my way. And don't worry, this song is most assuredly about you. How could it be otherwise?
--
Bill owes me two hundred dollars and I don't think he means to pay me. When Kim started work about a month ago, Bill took to her like Miami Cubans took to little Elian Gonzalez. It was actually kind of endearing to see Bill, this disheveled, potty-mouthed 52 year old, act like a love-struck twelve yr old around her. I knew he meant business when he showed up one day with his hair combed back and wearing clean clothes.

"What are you doing here on your day off?", I asked him.

"Oh, nothing. I was in the area and figured I'd stop by."

I knew exactly why he had showed up, but I was having fun. "Wow, Bill, you look dashing! Your hair's all slicked back and it looks like you shaved. What's the occasion?"

Disregarding my question, Bill asked if Kim was working. I told him that, regrettably, Kim was not working.

"Aw, fuck, I shaved for her and everything", he exclaimed.

"Well", I responded with a barely suppressed smile, "I guess it doesn't matter anyway, considering you have a girlfriend and all."

"She's not really my girlfriend; she's more like a cell mate", he said.

Bill has been with his "cell mate" for over four years and I gently reminded him of that. He said he was going to go after Kim anyway. Having spoken to her about it already, I knew Kim wanted nothing to do with Bill romantically, whether he was in a relationship or a swinging single.

Over the next week, Bill flirted with Kim incessantly and to unintentional humorous effect. For some reason, Bill was of the belief that Kim had no idea he was in a relationship, even though he had repeatedly mentioned his girlfriend in front of Kim. When I mentioned her in front of Kim, Bill claimed I threw him under the bus and reduced his chances with her.

"Hey, if you bring your "A" game to the table, you should be able to overcome that tiny obstacle", I told him.

"Don't worry", he said, "I'll get her to go out with me. I'll take her out to dinner this Wednesday on her day off."

"Whatever you say, Bill", I said.

"You don't believe me, do you? I'll bet you two hundred dollars that it'll happen."

"I don't want to take your money", I said.

"Let's bet. Or are you afraid?".

"Bill", I replied, " I'm not a betting man, but this will be like stealing medication from a little old lady who lives by herself in a crummy little apartment. Not only will I take this bet, I will do so eagerly."

We shook on it, but in my experience a handshake is hardly binding, so I didn't fully expect him to pay up when the time came. But I did know with absolute certainty that I would not lose the bet. I told Bill that I would take Kim out to dinner with my winnings. And on the same night he planned on taking her out.

When Bill asked Kim out, she rejected his offer, stating that she doesn't date coworkers. That was that. When I hit Bill up for the money, he claimed the bet was never on because of my throwing him under the bus about his girlfriend. What a cop out. Just to spite him, I'm thinking of taking Kim out to dinner anyway.
--
Someone I know just lost her father, which I'm sure has been a devastating experience. I don't know how it's done, what the etiquette is, but I ask those of you reading this to send a prayer, thought, or whatever, her way. Could be hard when you don't know who it is you're reaching out to, but just forget about all that and do it. I'm still not completely sure how the universe works, but I'm pretty sure this could help.
--
I'm tempted to get some sushi tonight. I've been impressed with the sushi department at Shaws and even though I just had some last night, I might go for a little round two action. Or, I may scrap that lame idea and have a gingerbread house instead. I'm not kidding around, by the way. If I was joking , you would have seen a LOL, or perhaps a ROTFL. If I see a gingerbread house at the store, I will buy and eat it. This, I swear to you and my word is bond.

On that note, I'm gone, baby, gone.

Over and over, we flatten the clover

I was talking with my sister last night about how she and my brother in law met and subsequently got married. I'd heard the story before, but I like to hear her retell it because I think it's a fine story and like an exceptional film or piece of music, it illustrates that beneath the often dull veneer of the daily grind, there is some kind of magic at play in our world which we still know so little about. It's good to be reminded of that every once in a while.

My sister had been single for a while. Her last boyfriend proved to be an asshole (something I had always felt, but took her a while to realize) and left her bitter and alone. She finished college and took a job teaching at a small school in a small town. Seeing that most of her coworkers were mostly older women, she feared that she would end up an old maid.

It didn't help that most of her friends had either settled down or moved away. I would try to console her (we had just entered the phase in our relationship where we actually got along), but to no avail. I had never seen her in such a funk.

She worked at the school for a month or two and adjusted to the environment. Her disposition had improved, but it was born from resignation. Rather than rebel against her new turn in life, she decided to embrace it. It was evident, though, that she would have preferred things to be different.

One day, a new teacher arrived at the school. He was introduced to my sister, and within a span of a few days, he asked her out. She agreed to go out with him and that night at dinner, she couldn't contain her excitement. Kate has never been prone to excitement. In spite of having a great sense of humor and robust laugh, for the most part she's a fairly introspective, quiet individual. It usually takes her a while to warm up to people. So, seeing her practically giddy at the dinner table that night was out of the ordinary. I wondered if her time being single had made her desperate.

Kate and Rich had been dating for a couple of weeks when she broke the news that they were engaged. My family was stunned. What was she thinking? Her previous relationships had been long ones and here she was engaged after two weeks and I still hadn't met Rich yet. This was so uncharacteristic of Kate, that I was starting to really believe that she had grown desperate and that her sense of perspective had gone cloudy. Still, though, I did my best to reserve judgement until I met Rich.

I got my chance a few days later. He came by to pick her up and before he arrived, I discovered I was predisposed to dislike the guy. I guess I wasn't doing such a good job at reserving judgement. I was suspicious, to be sure, about a guy who, after knowing someone for only a couple of weeks, asked her to marry him. I worried that he was a con artist and didn't want my sister to get hurt. My worries were allayed when he walked in the door.

I couldn't help but like Rich the moment I met him. If he was a con artist, he was a damn good one. He was so easy going and relaxed; I could see why my sister took to him so quickly. The two of them sat with me at the kitchen table and told me the story of how he proposed to her.

They had been dating for a couple of weeks and things were going exceptionally well. One day while Kate was addressing her kindergartners, Rich walked into the room with a bouquet of roses. He didn't say a word as he placed one on each of the children's desks. He then came to the head of the class and addressed the students.

He proceeded to tell them about love, about how two people can become so intertwined, so enraptured with each other, that spending the rest of their lives together is as natural a thing to do as laughing at a joke or enjoying a cookie. Love, he told them, is the basis of all existence. It's in every corner, every crack, under every rock, in the darkest of places. It's not always easy to spot, but it's there. Sometimes it will seem, especially when things aren't going very well, that it doesn't exist at all. But it's always there, and it will remind you of that fact when you least expect it.

"When I first came to this school", he said, "I didn't expect to find love. Chasing you guys around occupied all of my attention. No, I never in my wildest dreams could have predicted I'd be up here in front of you guys, with my knees shaking, about to ask the woman I absolutely cannot live without to marry me."

With that, Rich knelt before my sister and asked for her hand in marriage. Teary-eyed, she accepted and the children erupted in applause.

They got married the following June and then got divorced two months later. Okay, they never got divorced. They're still together ten years and four kids later. And they're still each other's best friend, still very much in love.

I keep that story in my memory like a picture in a wallet. I pull it out every once in a while and reflect upon it fondly.

Try to understand, I'm a magic man

I stayed at work until almost nine on Saturday. The lateness was due to a myriad of screw ups, at least two of which were masterminded by yours truly. I was all set to drive up to NH to meet up with Foley and Scott for a writing/recording session, but by the time I got home I was wiped and it was late. I rescheduled with Foley and hopefully nothing will come up to prevent our getting together. When I see him, I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off him. Scratch that--it's his wife I won't be able to keep my hands off. He can go to hell. But seriously....
--
Kreg is doing me a solid by recording some of my songs. The idea is to lay some tracks down in a casual, informal manner and see what happens. The good thing about this situation is that I live with Kreg, so I won't have to travel every time I want to record. I hope he's aware that I like to record in the nude with hookers sitting in the corner gazing at me with hunger and awe in their eyes. As most of you know, hookers don't run cheap, but you have to set a mood, and when all is said and done, Kreg will discover that his money was well spent. He is a good friend.
--
I had a good Thanksgiving; a solid A-. Went to my grandmother's house and I'm always glad I don't have a family that's a drag. Before my grandparents died on my mother's side, we used to all get together for the holidays and, let me assure you, it was no fun. These affairs were as formal as you could get short of wearing a suit and tie. It was like going to church. Great people, just a more subdued vibe. My dad's side of the family, however, treats get-togethers with a looseness I'm better suited for.


I spent much of the time on Thanksgiving talking about Curb Your Enthusiasm with my Uncle and my cousins. Throughout dinner, I framed my father again and again, for reasons that are beyond me. I spread a rumor around the table that he wasn't happy with the way my cousin Brian hogged all the mashed potatoes, which in actuality he kind of did; whenever someone at the other end of the table asked if we needed anything at our end, I'd tell them my father did, and it didn't take long before he was surrounded by bowls of food that he didn't request; and when my cousin Megan told me she didn't trust anyone who didn't like the Office, I told her my father absolutely despised the show, that he preferred Step by Step. My father loves The Office, but Megan didn't need to know that. From that moment on, she stayed clear of my dad, who was now untrustworthy in her eyes.

The rest of the day was enjoyable, if uneventful. I decided this year to try making my exit when other people do. The reasoning behind this was if I left with, say, my sister and her family, I'd be able to slip out of the house unnoticed and thus in a timely manner. It is so hard leaving my grandmother's house. Even when you've said goodbye to everyone, you still have to get by Nana, who is never in favor of anyone leaving her house. After answering a litany of questions concerning why you need to leave at that moment, you have to stick around while she assembles some leftovers for you to take. And once that's accomplished, once everything you've picked to take home with you has been wrapped up and put in a bag, you have to start the whole process of leaving all over again, because somehow, while all of this was going on, you discover to your puzzled lament that you've taken your coat off and someone has hung it back up in the closet. And the keys that you had in your hand, the ones that showed everyone that you weren't kidding about leaving, have gone missing. So, you've got to start the whole process over again: get your coat, find your keys, make the rounds and say goodbye as everyone gives you a puzzled look, wondering why you're still there, then go over to Nana and hope this time you'll be granted permission to leave. Not a guarantee it will happen, though. She'll always find a reason to keep you there, and I guess I wouldn't have it any other way. Below are some of the failed methods I've used to make my exit.

--I once pulled out a gun and bellowed " If anyone tries to stop me from leaving, I will shoot you in the fucking teeth!!

--I pulled my pants down in front of everyone and said " Either I get me something sloppy in the next thirty seconds, or my ass is out the door!"

--I said to Nana, "Look, before I leave, I'd like to talk to you about some pretty serious issues I'm dealing with right now. And by pretty serious, I mean pretty damn serious. Suicide serious." (That actually worked really well. I was out of there light lightning. She practically shoved me out the door. I could only use that method once, though)

--I once stood in the middle of the room, demanded silence, and started reading some of my high school poetry out loud. Turned out, everyone loved it! Maybe I am the great American poet, like everyone always said I was.

---

Ok, I'm off to greener pastures. I'm feeling good about something today and I hope the feeling grows into something even better. Ta Ta, children of the night.

You'll never know how much I really love you, you'll never know how much I really care

Maybe it's the weather, but I'm not feeling very festive. Could be that I'm still sick; could be that my work doesn't fulfill me; that I'm lonely; that I'm..... Enough. Hardly in the spirit of Thanksgiving to carry on like that, but I don't give too much of a fuck. I'm not going to pretend my life is shaped differently than it is, but I will, because tomorrow is the holiday and because perspective can be an ally in this game of life, focus on what I have to be thankful for.



--As far as I know, I don't have cancer or Aids or Sars or Hepatitis. Not too shabby.



--I am in possession of all four of my limbs. No wood chipper has bested me yet.



--My Celtics PS2 team with Baron Davis at guard just won the championship.



--I woke up laughing this morning. First off, in a dream I was getting a massage from my Brazilian girlfriend, which you can't beat, and next thing you know, someone gives me a calendar. It was called "Apartment Boys" and my roommate Rich was featured prominently in it. What made me laugh was a pic of him laying seductively on a bear-skin rug. He was wearing a pair of worn out and not very tighty whities. For that matter, they weren't that "whitey" either, but I digress. He wore nothing else, save a glass of bourbon(?) in his hand. I found the image to be humorous, so I woke up laughing. I'm going to look for for that calendar in the mall next week. Maybe it's real.



--Werner Herzog's "Rescue Dawn" is out on DVD.



--The Celtics have a winning record and Kevin Garnett.



--I haven't been laid in a while, but I am masturbating more. I don't know if that's necessarily true--about the masturbating, I mean--but it felt like the right thing to say.



--I'm a big fan of sneezing and my two roommates are serious motherfuckers when it comes to that. As a bonus, Rich has an endearing cough, and the sound Craig makes when he clears his throat is something to behold. Music to my ears.



--Just found out there's going to be an "Extras" Christmas special.



--Yoga



--Trader Joe's sushi. The combo pack, portabella mushroom, wasabi shrimp, Cajun shrimp--- each so satisfying I could eat them all every day, twice a day for two years straight. I am not even joking.



--Naomi Wolf, Ron Paul, David Ray Griffin, Jim Marrs, Peter Dale Scott, Alex Jones,Naomi Klein, Cindy Sheehan, Webster Tarpley,Keith Obermann, Sibel Edmonds: embodiments of patriotism in it's truest sense.



--mint chocolate chip ice cream. The best of the best.



--I haven't been in prison.



--My parents. Over the years, especially my formative ones, we've had our differences, to put it mildly. However, there was always some sweet to go along with the sour, and nowadays it's mostly sweet. I genuinely get along with my parents these days and if I ever feel unloved, all I need to do is look to my parents to be proven otherwise.



--And I suppose I've got some good friends, too.



So things aren't so bad. I just wish they were better. Significantly better.