A man needs a maid

It was a busy day at work. Because it's the last day of the month and because the month that is making it's swan song is May, that meant a welter of truck rentals today. Ryan was given the task of processing the reservations while I handled other company business. On an average day, we might see about four Penske's going out of our lot, but today we had close to thirty.

The folks at the Medford office, where we get our trucks, were either understaffed or inept today; I can't figure out which. Maybe a little of both. They were late, sometimes by hours, in getting trucks out to us. Well, good thing I didn't have to deal with that mess today. Or so I thought. Most of the customers weren't pleased with the wait, nor were they pleased when they were told they'd have to, if they were renting locals, bring their trucks back at 9:00 tomorrow morning or they'd be charged another day. I was the lucky one who got to dish out this pleasant bit of news because, at 4:00, Ryan bailed on me in the middle of a rush. He had to go to physical therapy, which was news to me. Karen had left a couple of hours earlier, so that left me, for all intents and purposes, alone to steer the ship.

From four o'clock to six thirty, all I did was process Penske contracts. At one point I had six people waiting for trucks that weren't in my lot. Some people had to wait a couple of hours. One thing Penske does that I do not agree with is give people larger trucks than what they reserved. It happens most often when someone reserves a twelve footer. Penske is always low on them so they tell us to "upgrade" the customer to a sixteen footer. If the customer complains, we're told to tell them it's the sixteen or nothing. It's the ol' bait and switch. Sons of bitches!

It ended well, though. My last transaction was with a very attractive college student. She had been there since four and was more patient than most of the people who had to wait. When the dust had settled, it was just her and I in the shop. She was waiting for her moving partner to show up, so she hung out while I locked up. I asked her if she wanted me to stick around until her friend showed up, but she declined. Now, I didn't make the offer because I was trying to get anywhere, I assure you. I just sincerely felt bad about leaving her hanging out by herself in my parking lot. I'd do it for anyone, really I would. Ahh, you don't believe me.
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She did set me to thinking about the person that I occasionally write about but can't name when it comes to expressing my feelings for her. I think I've given a reason, albeit vague, why she needs to remain nameless for now. There are a few reasons and the majority of them should be obvious, but there is one that would surprise you. And I wish I could disclose it---hell, disclose it all---but I just can't. So instead, in my juvenile fashion, I'll have to content myself with teasing you. What have I become?
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I'm going to watch some more of The Wire tonight. I'm almost done with the first season. I will also try to accomplish some more writing/rehearsal. When I have all the time in the world, I seem to have trouble finding projects to pass it with, and when I don't have much, it seems I have a thousand things I could fill it with. Fucking life and its little games.

I'm a junkyard of false starts

I was going to begin this post lamenting my perpetual bachelorhood, but I thought better of it. Moaning and groaning about my situation won't improve it. You can't find a solution if you're fixed on the problem. That's my motto and I'm sticking to it. But, man, it can get rough sometimes.

Between episodes of the Wire, I've been practicing a lot. I've mentioned in a previous post that I'm gearing up to play some shows and do some recording. I hope, before midsummer hits, I'll be out performing, hopefully with Sean, and will have some new songs recorded. I don't think that's too much too expect. I've swept the one thing I excel at under the rug too much in my life. Time to change that.

I haven't spoken with Spira in a couple of weeks. I haven't called her and I wouldn't be surprised if she was playing the game that 90% of the people I know play called "I'm not going to call this person. Let's see how long it takes them to call me" I'm aware that I could be knee deep in this game, but I don't really care too much if I am---I've got enough on my plate to get all riled up about it. My sister just informed me that my parents played this game with me not too long ago, which inspired my grandmother to write me that guilt-filled letter pressuring me to call my parents more frequently. So this game is not beyond anyone's reach. Am I positive Spira is playing this game with me? I'm not, but I wouldn't rule it out. There could be plenty of other reasons why I haven't talked to her, none of which I need to go into here, but for now I'll just assume it's the phone game.

I'm listening to Bebel Gilberto's breathtaking rendition of "Samba e Amor", one of the prettiest songs you'll hear on God's green earth. I have renewed my crush on her. Ah, Bebel.

A boring, general accounting

I've had a very relaxing day, and I think I needed it. I spent the early part of it cleaning my room while listening to the new Rufus and after that I put a good chunk into David Ray Griffin's The 9/11 Commission Report: Omissions and Distortions. I also spent a good amount of time fleshing out some songs that needed some work. It was a productive session and I played well.

For dinner I roasted some asparagus in olive oil and garlic and fried up some Biryani, my new favorite food, and added some chicken maple sausage to it. Perfecto! I watched an episode of Bill Maher's show while eating, and it was a good one. As guests, he had PJ O'rourke and Ben Affleck, and at different points in the broadcast, he interviewed Michael Moore and Ron Paul, the man who may just get me to vote Republican.

To work off the meal, I took a glorious walk down the bike path and into Davis Sq. The sun was blazing and the breeze was cool; perfect walking weather. And to make the walk even better, my mp3 player picked the most appropriate music to match the climate. Usually, when I set it on random, it's hit or miss, but tonight it was spot on. It began with a Bert Jansch song, the name of which I forget, and then onto "I"m So Green", from Can, a great walking song. Then another Bert Jansch song. After that was one of my favorite Amon Tobin songs. I don't know the name of that one either, but with it's Disney meets Arabian nights flavor, it put me into a nostalgic, dreamy state. Then the gorgeous "I Went to Sleep" by the Beach Boys. Ah, I wish more walks were like this one.

Tonight I plan on doing some more writing and practicing. I want to have a set ready soon so I can play out on short notice if I need to. It's been a while since I've played a show and I'm itching to get out there.

I've decided that HBO is the greatest station on TV. And I'm basing this on just their shows alone--- forget the movies. Here's a list of some of the high quality programming they broadcast.

1. The Wire

2. The Sopranos

3. Deadwood

4. Rome

5. Extras

6. Curb Your Enthusiasm

7. Carnival

8. Real Time With Bill Maher

9. Oz

10. Song of Ice and Fire. (still in production, but based on my favorite books in the world. I CAN NOT WAIT for this show to come out.)

So there you have it. At least half of the shows I listed are some of the best I've ever seen. An impressive list.

King James and the shitter

Rich, the morning shitter, did it to me again the other day. I had just finished my breakfast and was about to use the bathroom---I was in fact coming down the stairs on my way to it---when that little weasel snuck out of his bedroom and beat me to it, proceeding to eat up ten minutes of my time shitting away and blowing his nose. I had been right on schedule and now I was going to be late. Again. All because this shitter can't wait five minutes for me to finish up my business. I suppose you're wondering why I don't just get ready earlier so I won' run into this problem. Well, first of all, I've had the same routine for months now and it's worked quite effectively, so why change it? And furthermore, Rich knows my schedule and knows that if he were to wait only a few minutes, he'd have all time he'd desire in there. So, when it happened again the other day, I spoke to him when he came out of the bathroom. I asked him if, in the future, he wouldn't mind waiting a few minutes before he goes in the bathroom to do his dirty work. He said it wasn't a problem. We'll see.

Just a few minutes ago, I was on my way to the bathroom from the kitchen when Bob TV came barreling down the stairs into the bathroom. It's ok, I've only had to wait twenty minutes for him to emerge. I should have kicked the door in, grabbed him by the shirt, and hurled him off the can and out of the bathroom, with his shit making zig-zagging trails behind him. Ah, but I didn't, because that would make me a bad guy, or something. Had enough shit talk? I most assuredly have. It seems I've been writing a lot about it, lately, and enough is enough. Let's move on to a topic less fecal.

I think I made some headway into understanding James, the mysterious warehouse manager, yesterday. It was nearing the end of the day, and even though business had slowed down at that point, I still had to make sure people were busy. I had sent Ryan, the college kid, into the warehouse with Bill so that he could eke from him as much information as possible about our tools. I wanted James to be a recipient of that tutorial, as well, but he informed me that Bill had showed him everything already. I was skeptical, so I pulled Bill aside and asked him if this was the case. He said it was, so I let it be.

It occurred to me that because I didn't understand James, I was assuming he was up to no good on some level. He had been fired earlier in the week, so my assumption wasn't baseless, but that didn't mean I still couldn't give him the benefit of the doubt in some instances. So while Bill was out back with Ryan, probably telling him more dirty jokes than anything else, I was by myself up front, manning the shop. Having Ryan, who does nothing but complain all day, out of my hair, was a beautiful thing. At one point, James came in and joined me, pulling up a chair at the opposite counter.

I immediately thought, Ok, I can't have this guy, who's supposed to be doing some work, just hang out lazily beside me. What he's doing is testing my mettle, seeing if I'll assert my authority. I have to say something, though I'd prefer not to. So I asked him if there was anything left to do and he replied that there wasn't. I told him he might as well go home, then. Part of me was disappointed that he was throwing in the towel in this manner, because I wanted him to succeed at this job, which doesn't include moping around consistently. When confronted with the option of leaving, he surprised me by saying, "Nah, I don't want to leave, I'm just exhausted. I'll get up in a minute and go back into the warehouse."

He went on to explain the reason he was so tired. It seems James is working three jobs and has a son to take care of. He also supports his older sister . He opened to me about his problems, how he sometimes goes days without sleeping, and how his son thinks he doesn't love him because he doesn't get to see him that much because of work. All of this made me feel lousy for pushing him to excel at work. To clarify, I don't regret trying to pull the best out of him, because, after all, he's getting paid for his services, but I do regret assuming he didn't give a shit. It all began to make sense, his dreamy countenance and his constant use of the cell phone. He's obviously running on little sleep and most of his phone calls had to do with family and work matters. As much as I sympathize with his plight---I'm not sure I could handle what he goes through---I still have a show to run. And that means everyone has to pull their weight, including James. If it turns out his burning the candle at both ends effects the company in a negative way, he'll have to be let go. I'd hate to see it happen, but it might. At the very least, I've learned a little more about James. His situation reminds me again how much I wish everyone could experience abundance without having to slave the bulk of their lives away.
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I have the next few days off and I don't have anything planned. I'm going to have to make some calls so that I don't languish in my house the entire time. Maybe I'll see what the NH folks are up to. I've been thinking also to reconnect with friends I haven't spoken to in ages. The list is longer than I'd prefer, but it's what happens when you get older, I'm learning.

I'm sticking with boogie

Holding true to my declaration that I was going to take a calmer approach to my job, I remained placid when I was in the weeds for a stretch of time today. Karen had just gone home for the day and right on cue, I was inundated with phone calls and customers. At one point, I had six people waiting to be helped, I had three people on hold, and the phone was ringing. I made it through the onslaught with my nerves intact. I'm glad it happened to me, because I wanted to see if I was capable of emerging unscathed, if I had the right stuff, to borrow a line from the New Kids on the Block. Maybe my success at not sweating the small stuff had something to do with the fact that I meditated last night after a prolonged absence.

James, the mysterious warehouse manage who was fired this past Saturday for throwing some tent poles on the ground in front of Karen, was rehired on Monday. Before I go any further, I want to explain why I refer to James as mysterious. He's a very mellow guy, but you get the sense, like with a panther, that he can go from relaxed to attack mode in the blink of an eye. He doesn't talk much and is hardly expressive, but sometimes he'll break into a thick, mirthful laugh and you wonder what took him so long. The fact that he's always on his cell phone, despite being directed to stay off it, and moves at a languid clip, suggest that he can't keep up with quick pace the business dictates, but strangely, he's always on top of things. So, for these reasons, he's a mystery to Karen and me. We can't tell if he's a lunatic, a prophet, a hard worker, or the impetus that will bring the business crashing down. O' James, release thy self from the shackles that bind and make thy self known.

Anyway, James was rehired by Karen, in spite of the fact that she told me several times, even before the tent pole throwing incident, that he wasn't a good fit. And I agreed with her. But yet.... Ah, I don't know. All I do know is James is still around and he's a tough nut to crack. Let's leave James stewing in the juices of mystery a bit longer and move on to other things.

Last night I pulled out of the freezer a bag of Biryana, an Indian rice dish, that I had purchased at Trader Joes a few weeks ago, and fried it up with some sun dried tomato chicken sausage. Let me tell you that this stuff was incredible. It filled me with glee, even. Some of you are aware that one of the few foods I can't stand are raisins. I've given them numerous chances over the years, to no avail. But this stuff, this Biryani, had raisins in it, and you know what? They were
re-goddamn-diculously good in this dish. O' Biryani, I kneel before your eminence. I am yours in mind, body, and spirit. Do with me as thou wilt.

I spent a good chunk of my morning at the Somerville police station trying to get a stolen vehicle report processed. One of our Penske trucks we had rented a few weeks ago was never returned, so as of today it was considered stolen. My first trip to the station lasted about an hour as one of the cops tried in vain to track down the registration number of the truck. Alas, he wasn't able to pull it up, so I had to go back to work and print one up and then go back to the station. My second trip lasted about another hour. I couldn't figure out why, because it didn't seem like there was much going on, but they had guns so I never put voice to my puzzlement. Every time a cop walked by, I felt a small sense of awe. And this was simply because they were carrying guns and could kill me if they wanted to . Hell, they could do anything they wanted to me, and there's the awe. I feel the same way when I encounter martial arts master, which is way more often then you would think, or a boxer. I always think, "wow, this guy could snap my neck before I knew what hit me". Of course, anyone, if they put their mind to it, could kill me. I'm quite killable. So, I don't know it's different with cops and ninjas and the like.

That morning-shitter Rich fucked me again this morning (I probably could have phrased that a little less sexually, but what are you gonna do). I was about to go brush my teeth and wash my face, when the little weasel snuck into the bathroom RIGHT AS I WAS COMING DOWN THE STAIRS! He knows my schedule, and now I'm wondering if he's really doing this---because this is about the fourth time it's happened---to get me worked up. I can't see why he would, but I have to wonder. I must plan a counter strike. This may take time. I'll keep you posted. Know this, though: that chronic morning shitter is going to get his.

When the Sopranos ends, there will be an absence of quality programming for a while. I don't know what I'll do. The Office is over for the season and Deadwood---who knows when that'll be back. And Extras was over almost as soon as it began. Maybe I should throw in the towel and follow the adventures of Dr. Boogie on that haircutting show Doug is hooked on. I'll watch it if only to confirm my suspicion that Dr. Boogie is a doctor of, well, boogie. He could be a doctor of medicine, but I'm sticking with boogie.

Rider on the wheel

Things could be worse. You know, I've always disliked that phrase. The last thing I want to hear when I'm down in the dumps for whatever reason is that things could be even worse than they are. Doesn't prove to be the elixir I need to propel me to greener pastures, that's for sure. So why am I bringing this up? I don't know. I guess I just had to get that off my chest.

Of course, I could have brought that up because the Celtics, the team that most definitely tanked some games in order to reap the benefits of one of the best drafts in years, were selected to pick fifth in the draft, the worst case scenario for them, as opposed to an expected top three pick, in last nights lottery. Though they were the second worst team in the league, the ping pong balls didn't favor them. No Greg Oden, the prospective next Bill Russell, or Kevin Durant, the next..... well, the next someone---the kid is amazing! Oh, well, they'll still get a high pick, just not one of the elite ones.

Things could be worse.

The last few days---hell, more than a few--- at work have done a number on my psyche. I was irritable and curt with customers and my coworkers. Not all the time, but enough to make me take a time out and assess why this was happening. Part of it had to do with the fact that I've often been left alone to handle all of the counter work, which includes handling the constant phone calls, the walk-ins, the truck rentals, the accounting, the scheduling of deliveries and pick ups, and blah-diddy-blah. That, coupled with the fact that it's the height of the busy season and I'm still, for all intents and purposes, as green as split pea soup (for those of you keeping track of my tastes, one of my favorite soups). Because I didn't like what I was seeing, I made a concerted effort to relax more and thus far, I've been pretty successful. If I'm ever able to get back into it on a regular basis, meditating will help a bunch. Ah, but it's not as bad as I make it. There's plenty to be joyful about.

For instance, after a number of listens, the new Rufus Wainwright has become one of the best albums I've heard in a long time. I certainly think it's one his best, and that's saying something. I've been listening to it every day and because there's a lot going on throughout it, I discover new treasures with each subsequent listen. And of course, there are the new Elliot Smith and Bjork albums to make my smile even wider.

Sean and I are going to book a show, or shows, together, and I'm excited at the prospect of sharing a bill with him. He's one of the most gifted songwriters I know and it will be an honor to play with him. And because we're not the most proactive people when it comes to booking our own gigs, doing it together should remedy that. Remember how excited you were when you saw Jeff Foxworthy work the same stage as Sir Larry the Cable Guy? Well, this pairing should top that. I'll keep you posted.

Things could be worse, but they could be better, and that's where I'm setting my focus. I'm not going to wallow in feelings of mediocrity, guilt, regret, what have you. Nope, I'm in the business of improvement, of joy where I can find it. Certainly, that can't be too difficult to achieve.

Pretty Mary Kay

I'm so fucking cold and it's late May. The gloomy weather has definitely made staying in a cheery mood a daunting task. Today was nothing short of frustrating and draining at work. I avoided calamity and maintained my center, even though it had shrunk to the size of an atom. I'm out of work and I'm much better now. No more talk of work.

And no more talk of anything. I'm pretty beat and I need to decompress. I will some of "The Office" on dvd and then will do some songwriting. I'm trying to wrap up a few songs so I can record them and post them on Myspace. And I'm planning on booking a show or two at any club that will have me, so I'd like to have something current to play.

So here are the new cd's one should get if they want to be like me:

New Moon, by Elliot Smith

Release the Stars, by Rufus Wainwright

Volta, by Bjork

All three are fantastic, so do the right thing, no matter your taste, and purchase them. Or else.

I'm going to a town where they've already been let down

The Red Sox tickets I had given to Bob TV and Rich went to waste because the game was rained out last night. Consequently, I didn't have the house to myself and I had to slightly alter the dinner plans I had with Amanda. With the house at my disposal, I was looking forward to being able to prepare and eat dinner without getting in anyone's way, but, as it happened, the guys, who had gone to Fenway before the game was called, didn't return until after we had eaten. So, I guess I didn't alter my dinner plans, after all.

Our method of eating was interesting. Rather than preparing a meal and sitting down to eat, like most people, Amanda and I ate the majority of ours in the kitchen standing up. Before you accuse me of being a poor host, know that Amanda initiated this style of eating, and I went with it. Didn't bother me none.

We ate a hodgepodge of food from around the globe: shumai (japan), quinoa (S.America), curry cous-cous (India), apple-maple chicken sausage (Sausage land), and grilled asparagus (Somerville, Ma). It was yummy, let me assure you.

After dinner, we rocked out some karaoke. I had borrowed the karaoke machine we have at work, and we had a blast putting it to the test. We performed a duet of "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" and then banged out"Unforgettable",. What else? "The Gambler". That was a fun one. And "Last Train To Clarksville. Bob TV joined us on a few numbers and we shut it down at 11:30, so as not to anger the neighbors.

Amanda is one of my favorite people. Besides being one of the funniest people I know, she is also one of the most endearing. I was on the phone with her a couple of weeks ago and as she speaking she stopped mid-sentence and said "Oh, shit, I'm going to miss him!" I could hear her footsteps in the background---she was running--- and I asked her what was happening.I figured she was trying to catch a bus, until she informed me she had just chased down the ice cream man so she could get a cone. She had bolted out of her house and ran down the street after the ice cream man. That's Amanda, and that's why she's one of my fav's.

Now, I shall go and watch the season finale of "The Office", on of the funniest shows on television. Fare thee well, dear readers.

St. Ides Heaven

I was tempted to write about some of my bleak thoughts and about some of the shitty things that I went through today, but I've decided something else shall take precedence. That something else is a bizarre thing that happened to me in the shower tonight.

I had just lathered my face with soap when the the bar slipped out of my hands and landed on the valve that switches the flow of water from the shower to the tub. I had to squint through the burning and switch the water back to the shower. It was pretty funny, I have to admit, but I was more impressed with the unlikelihood of the action. Especially because it happened to me, scout's honor, three weeks ago.

I 'm listening to the new Elliot Smith and missing him. He was such a good songwriter and his songs, even the dark ones, had a warm feel to them. Well, at least there's still Clay Aiken to fuss over. There's that.

We are the Earth Intruders

Not much to report tonight. I've had a strange, but productive day off from work. Strange because I seemed to be caught in an undercurrent of poor decision making all day. At the bank, two tellers asked me if they could help me at the same time. The man I chose to handle my transaction turned out to be a rookie and kept screwing everything up. And then later, at the grocery store, I chose the slowest check out line. More happened afterward, but you get the idea.

My day was not spoiled, though. I caught up on some reading and writing and got to relax. I've been listening to Bjork's new album, Volta, and so far, it's fantastic. Rufus Wainwright, perhaps my favorite song writer, has a new album coming out tomorrow, and I will hurry over to Newbury Comics after work and buy it. I've been looking forward to this release for a long time. And there's a posthumous Elliot Smith release called New Moon, that's also out. I'm excited to hear it because it's unreleased material from the late nineties, his best period, and from what I hear it's really good. And there's a new Andrew Bird album out I've got to check out. What a great time for music.

I'm off to try and put that string back on my guitar. I still can't get that damn thing to stay on. I may have to cut my losses and buy another string. I will not feel complete until I do.

Dog tell the moon, dog tell the stars

I'm taking an extended break from restringing my nylon string guitar because the High E, the only string I have left to put on, keeps coming loose and falling off. When I worked at the music store, I strung guitars all the time, and didn't mind doing it as it helped pass the time. But, now, at home....I just want to play, man, and not hassle with what is at best a necessary evil. I'll keep myself occupied with other activities until I attempt to tackle that task again.
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I just watched the Sopranos and can't believe there's only three episodes left before it bids adieu. What a fantastic season it's been! I sometimes forget how multi-layered the show is. It's the superficial and sensational aspects of the show that gets the most attention---every one loves a good whacking---but it's the subtler aspects of the show that reveal its complexity. And that is why twenty or fifty years from now it will still be relevant. I will miss the Soprano's.
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After a week of hearing people bitch and bloviate, I'm ready for some quiet time. I will end this and watch the second half of the Jazz/Warriors game with a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream, the best there is.. So far, this is the best series in the playoffs. Lots of heart, skill, and grace. I'm referring to the way in which I'll the ice cream, you should know, and not the playoffs. I just want to make that clear.

Ok, that's not a particularly quiet activity, but it will be nutrition for my overworked mind. When the game's over, I'll open a book and then I'll really have my quietude.

We had a pirate band, a tear for every grain of sand

I don't know why, but for a good portion of the afternoon, I was testy. If I had to guess, I'd have to say it had something to do with the mugginess. What I need to do, to help combat the moodiness, is start meditating again in earnest and pay more careful attention to my diet. My friend Mary just cut out sugars in her diet and is reporting positive benefits. Maybe I should check out if there's any room on her band wagon for me. I've got to do something, because I need to maintain, man.
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Rich has developed an annoying routine in the morning that I may need to confront him about. Both Bob TV and Rich get up for work later than I do and, as a result, I get the bathroom to myself every morning between 6:30 and 7:30. I'm not using it the entire time--- I eat breakfast first and then I go in there to take care of business in a variety of ways. Both Bob TV and Rich know my routine and usually adhere to it---except lately.

At least twice this week, I've gone down to the bathroom and Rich is in there. Because I'm on a tight schedule, every minute counts, so having to wait for someone can cause me to be late for work. On both occasions, I didn't have to wait very long for him, but when I went in the bathroom after him the air was thick and brutal with the stench of his morning shit. I've seen what this guy eats and it's not pretty. As far as I can tell, he eats a lot of pizza (has already gotten more take out in a week than I have in the last year), steak and cheese subs, and his beverages of choice are these mean looking energy drinks, a massive amount of coffee, and diet coke. Not the way I'd like to start my morning off, inhaling this guy's fumes, but what am I going to do, tell him to hold it in until I'm gone? Actually, that's not so unreasonable. Maybe that's what I'll do. Or, if he doesn't cotton much to that idea, I'll sit down with him and work out a sensible diet with him, one that doesn't have the catastrophic consequences that his current one provides. Man, I've got to talk to a guy about his bowel movements. I sure didn't see this one coming.
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For the past several years, I've conducted extensive research into the events of 9/11 and there's nothing at this point that will convince me that the attacks of that day weren't at the very least allowed to happen or worse, perpetrated by elements within our government and military. Because a thorough, non-partisan, impartial, and serious investigation has yet to happen, I can't say I know what really happened. I have my suspicions, and they lean heavily towards the attacks being the result of an inside job, but again, until a proper investigation takes place, I can't say for sure. I do know that facing the likelihood that our government was involved in some capacity with the attacks of that day is frightening because of what it portends, but I've made the decision to be more vocal about my stance because the issue is too important for it to remain suppressed. Anyway, I'll touch on the topic here and there in this blog, but for now I'd just like to wrap this up so I can take a cool, relaxing shower.

Bend down the branches

I fired Angela today. Karen asked me to do it at the end of the day, which I did, and all the way up to the point of impact I was knotted up over how I was going to make it as painless as possible for both Angela and myself. I concluded early on that, no matter what, it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. How could it? Maybe if I offered her a chunky severance package that she'd be able to live off of comfortably for the entire summer, but that certainly wasn't going to happen, especially since she'd only been with the company for a few weeks.

So I bit the bullet and spoke with her at the end of the day. Everyone else was on a delivery or had left for the day, so it was just Angela and me. I took the blunt route and told her without preface she wasn't a good fit and we were going to part company with her. I stressed that it wasn't personal and that she has a bright future ahead of her, but even though I meant it, I sounded insincere. It's like the "it's not you, it's me" line you hear in break-ups. "Yeah, right", you think. "It's totally me, but you're too gutless to say it". Oh, well, there wasn't much else I could have said short of "I"m just teasing---actually we'd like to give you a raise", that would have prevented that stray tear from trekking down her cheek.

She told me she had just put money down on a new apartment and, as a result, the timing of this couldn't have been worse. The timing is never good when you get fired, I thought, but I kept it to myself.

Angela needed to be let go, no question about it. On several occasions she was caught lying and she was rude to customers. She also spent about half her day in the bathroom. But, she's one of the good ones, as far as her character goes, and I meant it when I told her she has a bright future ahead of her. So, adieu, Angela. I wish you well.
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When I came home from work I made some quinoa with black beans and baked some turkey tips that had been marinated in a sun-dried tomato concoction. Oh, and some roasted asparagus, the king of vegetables, on the side. Just figured I'd let you know that, because I know you were wondering.

After supper, I took a walk to Davis Sq. I listened to mp3 player on random and enjoyed the weather. I saw more beautiful women than I have in the last week on that walk. My only moment of scorn regarding these ladies had to do with the fact that most of them were wearing ballet flats. I know they're the 'in" thing in footwear, but in my opinion they look awful. Not that I expect women to parade around in heels, but c'mon, those ballet shoes are gross.

Ok, I've gone down a road I should probably get off of. Time to end this drivel, before I devolve any further. Ballet flats? What the fuck is the matter with me?

When we drink beer, dragonflies appear

I just went down to the kitchen and Rich was there taking our new Britta out of the box. Good, because I've been getting sick of drinking tap water. Anyway, his face was soaked for some reason. I figured he had just washed up and was about to towel off when I came on the scene. I commented that he looked liked he was trying to hide something from me, that he appeared nervous with all that sweating. He replied that he had a long walk home from the T and worked up a good sweat. And that was that. I didn't follow up, but I think he was serious, which meant that all that moisture on his face was really sweat. If I had known, I wouldn't have made a joke. But, man, who sweats that much? It appears that I live with an excessive sweater and I'm fine with that. Bob TV's a molter and I have a pure heart. What a trio we make.

Tomorrow I have to fire Angela, a woman who's been with us for a few weeks now. Karen, the owner, can't bear working with her for a number of legitimate reasons, most of which I agree with, and she has to go. She's a nice woman, though a little sneaky, and I don't expect it will be an enjoyable experience. This will be my first time firing someone.

I thought of her today. I wondered if I'll ever summon the nerve to ask her out and whether I should even bother. For some reason---some of it based on past experiences, to be sure, and some of it the product of thoughtful analysis--- I don't think she'd be too receptive to the idea. But then, when I frame it another way, it seems obvious that, not only would she be receptive to the idea, she'd be ecstatic. Well, maybe not ecstatic, but somewhere in the region. And if I'm truthful with my self, I'll realize that I'm more comfortable with not asking her out, because at least that way, I'll never be rejected and there will at the very least remain the possibility that she'd accept my proposal (perhaps a poor choice of words. I didn't mean it in the sense of asking her to marry me, but I bet you figured that out on your own). So, maybe, just to spite myself, I'll summon up the nerve to ask her out. I'll keep you posted.

Torn Curtain

I had a satisfying weekend. Kreg and Mike came to town Saturday night and we, along with Spira and Luke Warm, went to Christopher's in Porter Sq for dinner. Because it was Cinco de Mayo, or as I prefer to call it, another excuse to get drunk day, I suspected we'd have to wait a while, no matter where we went. My suspicions proved to be accurate, at least in the case of Redbones, the first place we attempted to eat at. A forty five minute wait. So we drove through Davis Sq., trying to find parking and think of another place to eat that everyone would find agreeable. Luke Warm was awarded epiphany of the night when he blurted out we should go to Christopher's, because it ended up being the wise choice.

We were seated immediately upon entering the establishment, and the food was excellent. And, please excuse the catering to my baser instincts, but there were some exquisite looking women working there, which made me feel all randy and such. I remained civil, though, and kept my focus on the goings on at my table. I still have a modicum of civility, despite what you may think. The food? I had a burger that I had made all especial, with swiss cheese (the best and brightest ), caramelized onions, and sauteed portabella mushrooms. Other than that, we had some tasty calamari and nachos. And alcohol. That's a general accounting; if you want more in the way of specifics, you'll have to email me privately.

Went up to Lowell yesterday to see Doug at Brewed Awakening, a cozy and hip little coffee house on Market St. Doug has a running exhibit of some of his photographs there, which, if you're in the area you should check out. Great stuff. Had some chai and some refreshing conversation. It's not often I get to see Doug, but when I do, I always come out of it feeling good and better informed. And we didn't even get to talk about the Yeti, a shared interest of ours. Next time.
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I asked Spira last night via voicemail, if she'd record me performing some of my songs, so that I could make a music page on myspace and put some of it on there. I'm a fan of the idea. I have so many songs that are collecting dust and I would be doing them a disservice if I didn't at least try to share them with a few people. So, we'll see. If she chooses to be a jerk about and doesn't want any part of my plan, which I don't see happening, I'll find another way. I'm going to "get 'er done", as the most underrated and wonderful comic Larry the Cable guy is wont to say.

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Because I was sick of women overlooking me in favor of better looking, more troublesome, drug-addled, and abusive men, I decided I'd better get on the ball and work at this thing in earnest. So, I took the first step on the road to couplehood. Please forward the link to any single women out there. I'm so utterly, utterly lonely.

http://dating.personals.yahoo.com/personals-1164133808-999863

What kind of fuckery is this?

Rich is all moved in and seems to be adjusting nicely to his new surroundings. He and Bob TV have been inseparable. They compliment each other well: Bob TV has found someone who will listen to his diatribes and Rich, who, at least at this stage, hasn't been particularly outgoing, has found someone to listen to. Not as simple as that, of course---they genuinely seem to get along, and that's fine with me. I'll take harmony over discord every time. Speaking of discord....

Spira and Bob TV haven't been chummy for a good stroke of time now, and things have only gotten worse. Their current conflict can be summarized thusly: Spira payed an entire month's worth of rent, but moved out mid-way through. Because of this, she doesn't feel she should pay utilities for that span of time. Bob TV, however, does. I won't go into the details because I've been going over them ad nauseum with the both of them over the last couple of days and I'm quite through with it. To illustrate how pervasive this issue of the bills has become, as I was typing the above, I was pulled back into the thick of the debate. I'm officially done with this nonsense. I tried to make matters better, but the only result thus far has been a headache.

That shitstorm notwithstanding, I've been in a pretty chipper mood and will strive to keep it in my possession for the rest of the night. I'm confident I can do it; I have a pure heart, after all.

I've been writing a lot more lately--music that is-- and I think I'm due to book a gig or two. I took a lengthier break from playing than I anticipated, but I'm happy to report my skills haven't suffered as a result.

I'm off to do some laundry and later, when I've wound down, I will read from my new book called "Sasquatch: Legend Meets Science". Laugh all you want, but the book is fascinating and it's not tabloid-ey like you might surmise. In fact, it's written by an actual scientist and all the evidence is looked at critically, not to force a conclusion, but to establish a baseline of facts upon which further research can depend (some of that sentence was taken from the back of the book. I may be a real son-of-a-bitch, but I'm not a plagarist). Anyway, so far it's a fascinating book. One of these days I'll relate how I've been hugely into Sasquatch ever since I was a wee lad. Until, then, I'm off to pursue my pleasure.