In my dreams it's still the same

I just re-read my post from yesterday and it appears as if I had some major conflicts over the weekend. I didn't. To be sure, all was not well, but what went down was something more subtle, and not easy to grasp. Hence why I abandoned the earlier post-- it just wasn't worth it in the end. Oh, well . Sometimes what's in my head and what I type are not congruent. It happens.



It's Halloween today and I think, for the second year in a row, we won't be giving out candy at my place. Last year, I was unemployed and poor and didn't want to spend the money, even though it would have put me out only a few dollars. This year, I have a job, but still am not of a mind to engage in the festivities. Am I a party pooper? I guess I am. At least in the sense that I won't be catering to begging children who have to hide their shame under their costumes. I used to love Halloween, but I've since become a lifeless old fart. At least I won't be giving out apples. I used to hate it when people would hand out fruit. What a slap in the face to the begging children!



I'm looking to buy some recording gear. I'll have to do it on the cheap because most of my money is accounted for. That's ok, I don't need a lot of bells and whistles. I do, however, need something more capable than my antiquated 4-track, with it's loose connections and dependance on tapes. Thankfully, there's a welter of great and affordable recording gear out there and I don't think I'll have to spend much. In fact, I have some stuff I can trade in, to help with the cost. Soon I won't have to depend on other people's equipment.



The Red Sox. Let me state for the record that, even though I didn't watch all of the playoffs, I was still impressed with the games. I admire the depth of baseball, how intricate it is. I just can't rationalize devoting 3-4 hours every other night to watching it. As much as I respect the game, the fanaticism that surrounds it, especially in Boston, is a little nauseating. If I have to hear someone substite "Go Sox" for "goodbye" or "see you later' again, I think I'll disembowel myself. How is saying "Go Sox" going to help the team? It's not, but people say it anyway, because they're in the grip of the team's cultish aspects. Think I'm kidding? I don't see much of a distinction between your run of the mill cult---and I'm not talking about the extreme ones where people end up killing themselves for their leader---and the Red Sox. I was talking to someone the other day who told me they weren't that into the team. I never would have guessed it, judging by all the Red Sox advertising he had draped over his body. From top to bottom, this person was a walking billboard. I wonder to what level he'd take it if he was really into the team. At lunch yesterday, I saw a bit of the homecoming, or "rolling rally", as they call it, on tv. The newschopper was following the progress of the team's bus as if it was the biggest story in the last twenty years. I guess to many, it was.

I don't mean to put down Sox fans, who are a rabid lot and would plunge a bat up my rectum if they felt slighted. I'm just using this particular team and sport as an example. People are insane about soccer, football, etc. I'm fully aware of this. But, damn, I'm in the midst of Red Sox Nation and the hysteria around it is disconcerting, especially to someone like me a, God forbid, casual fan. So, cheers to the Sox taking it all, and an even bigger cheers to the small window of time when there will be a break from the madness

Go Sox!!!

And now we rise and we are everywhere

I had written a lengthy post earlier that I've decided not to publish. It basically amounted to me trying to figure out why a good portion of the people in my life weren't exactly happy to be with me over the weekend. As puzzling as all that was, I wasn't depressed over it. Oddly, though it was a frustrating span of time, I came out of it feeling empowered. I decided to stand up for myself, to declare myself worthy of interest, affection, love, etc. And if anyone in my life can't offer me any of that, then I'll take my business elsewhere. No grudges, no hate--I'll just move on. You know, not for nothing, but it's been a long fucking time since someone's asked me how my day was. I'll leave it at that; I abandoned the earlier post and I'm not about to write it again.

Despite the fact that the earlier post was a good exercise in exploring a situation thoughtfully, it would have been a chore for you to read. Not that this isn't, but at least it'll be shorter. Anyway, I can't complain too much. I have two books on werewolves headed my way. I have the music of Lavender Diamond, Lhasa de Sela, Caetano Veloso, and others to soak in. I'm writing some of the best music I've written in a long time. I'm in better shape than I've been in a long time. I'm watching the Office UK these days and laughing heartily. Yes, things could be better, but they could be a lot worse.

We've got to get right back to where we started from

Had a good run yesterday, though I was thankful when it was over. There's always a point, usually near the beginning of one, when, from the knees down, my legs feel as if they're on fire. The sensation is fleeting, but when it occurs I half expect my legs to snap like kindling. Hasn't happened yet, but you never know.

Karen called me at work yesterday and gave me a hard sell about brining Gio back. For those of you who don't remember, or are new to this journal, Gio is a guy who used to work for us a driver and, because of his hot temper and poor coping skill, used to walk out frequently and with much fanfare. Karen kept bringing him back into the fold, despite my misgivings, and eventually Gio did me a favor and quit, this time appearing to actually mean it.

Some time went by and all of a sudden Gio's back, working on a tent job. Karen even went through the trouble of calling me the day before he came back to let me know it was a temporary thing and that she didn't want him back. I had my doubts, though. The whole thing smacked of a badly broken up couple that keeps getting back together while telling everyone around them, and even themselves, that they never would. I expected to see more of Gio, and I did.

Over the last couple of weeks, Gio's been working here sporadically. Karen's never said anything, but I've noticed that the one day he's been working steadily is on my day off. I began to realize that Karen was engineering Gio's comeback and there was nothing I could do. She's worked with Gio a lot longer than she's worked with me and I think her judgement concerning him is clouded. Now, I could never say that to her, at least not in that manner. No, I've tried the diplomatic approach and it's not gotten me far.

When Karen called me yesterday about Gio, I wasn't surprised, only disheartened. She expressed so much frustration with Al and Larry's poor work ethic that she felt the only solution to the problem was to fire them and bring Gio back. She told me Gio told her that Al has been using the company credit card to put gas in his truck. He also told her that the guys out back have been robbing her blind and laugh about how they have me fooled. As a result, Karen said she would rather take someone who walks out a lot, but is trustworthy, over someone, namely Al, who she's pretty sure is a rotten thief in addition to being a shitty worker.

I interjected that, in spite of the fact that I agreed with her that Al and Larry needed to go if , I didn't think re-hiring Gio was the solution. Furthermore, I let her know that I didn't have any reason to trust Gio. She seemed shocked and asked me why I don't trust him. I explained that Gio's broken my trust several times, simply by walking out on me. And whatever Al's faults may be, real or perceived, he's never walked out once. In fact, he was usually the guy to come in on his day off to fill in for Gio during one of his walkouts. And, I asked her, is it not conceivable that Gio might make up stories about Al's stealing in order to get his job back? Who would stand to gain from Al being fired? Gio, of course. Karen replied that Gio would never do that, that one thing had nothing to do with the other. That was when I knew for sure there was nothing I could do or say to change her mind. I tried, though.

She referred to Gio as "the only game in town", that there is no one else out there who's as capable. I disagreed with her and counseled that we should look beyond Gio and hire someone new. The job is not astro physics; most people with half a brain could handle it. All we needed to find was someone with a good work ethic. Karen seemed to think that was impossible.

In the end, I said, without really saying it, that it would probably come down to me a choice between me and Gio. And, you know, I wouldn't be surprised if she went with him. It would be a crazy move, but the way things have developed thus far, it wouldn't be a surprising one. We ended the conversation without resolving anything. I don't have anything against Gio as a person, and aside from his walkouts, he's an above average worker. My feeling is that if we hire him back, he'll walk out again and again and will suffer no repercussions. He will have immunity where everyone else, including me, won't. He will be able to do what he wants when he wants. That is not a good thing to have in the workplace.

She told me we'd discuss the matter further today. Gio, because Al and Ross have the day off, is supposed to come in. We've been open for an hour and he's nowhere to be seen. Fucking typical! Given the backwards way of handling personnel around here, we should probably give him a raise for this.

Post script:

Gio eventually came in and it wasn't his fault that he was late. Karen had told him we didn't need him. Ironically, I'm relieved that he came in, because if he didn't, I'd be the one driving through Boston making the rounds

I've got my man now, I got Porgy

Slight feeling of doom in the air; don't know why. Maybe it's because it's my dad's birthday today and I'm afraid he's planning on using the occasion to implement his plan of world domination. Or maybe it's because it's early yet and I may be associating in an unconscious way with unpleasant dreams I can't recall. Nah, probably has to do with my dad. What a jerk!

I'm a little sore from yesterday's yoga, which I'm not upset about. Shows that I need to loosen up some. I hope to do some running tonight, but I hear it's supposed to start raining right about the time I get out of work. Fuck it-- I'll run in the rain. I ain't a scaredy cat.

Well, the Red Sox once again staged a dramatic comeback and are now in the World Series. I've been watching the games here and there, but even with all the excitement, I still have trouble handing over three to four hours of my time every other night. Kreg and Rich are able to log in the hours, but then again, they're Red Sox fanatics and I'm not.

So I started watching The Shining last night, but was in an ambivalent mindset and ended up shutting it off fifteen minutes into it in favor of something else and then going back to it later on, only to move on to another activity shortly after. Eventually, I gave up trying to entertain myself and went to sleep.

Rich's friend Murph, who Rich and I do endless impressions of, almost gave me a stroke yesterday. I was in the kitchen and went over to the back door to make sure it was locked before I headed upstairs. When I got there, all of a sudden I see Murph's head come into view directly outside the door. Oddly enough, he didn't see me. He was affixing a note to a chair he was ostensibly leaving for Rich. It all happened so fast, by the time I thought to open the door and invite him in, or at least say hi, he had gotten in his car and left.

I like Murph, but I was kind of glad he didn't spot me. He a talkative guy and I may have ended up entangled in a discussion I didn't want to be in if we made contact. I was all wrapped up in my head and was glad I was able to remain that way. However, if I did end up in a conversation with him, I wouldn't have minded so much.

I met Murph the day Rich moved in. He was helping him bring boxes into the house and I thought he was Rich's father. Murph must be in his mid-fifties and Rich is in his late thirties; it's not often I see people with a sizable gap between their ages hanging out as friends. I found it refreshing. Anyway, I quickly learned a lot about Murph through Rich's impression of him. I'm a a big fan of impressions and Rich's Murph is damn funny. Murph likes to share a lot of unsolicited, impertinent, and arbitrary information, especially about music, and more especially about Judy Collins. Here's a sample:

(for full effect, imagine the following in a thick New England accent)

"Now, not many people know this, but Judy Collins worked at a candy shop in Brussels when she was there as a foreign exchange student in '63. And it was there she met Ron Wood's brother, Lenny Wood, who brought her back to Ginger Baker's house for some Earl Gray tea with a little bit of honey, which she later learned she was slightly allergic to. At the house she met Stephen Stills, who was on a solo tour in Europe at the time, and they got along famously. In fact they got along so well that when Ron Wood came by the house with Keith Richards, who plays guitar for the Rolling Stones---and for that matter so does Ron Wood, though he played with Jeff Beck and Rod Stewart before that--Judy didn't even know, or care, that they were there. See, she was working on a song with Stephen Stills that later became Suite Judy Blue Eyes, which was about her and became one of Crosby, Stills, and Nash's biggest hits. "

Murph would bring up Judy Collins so much that whenever he could, Rich would insert random tidbits about her into their conversations just to make me laugh.

"Speaking of Tony Randall, did you know that he once went skydiving with Judy Collins?"

"Really?", Murph would ask with genuine interest. "I never heard that."

"Yeah, he was friends with her mother's interior decorator and through her it became known that Tony and Judy had a mutual interest in jumping out of planes. So one day Tony got on the phone with Judy and soon after they went skydiving."

"Fascinating! I never heard that.", Murph would reply. You'd always get the sense that he was both pleased and disappointed at such news: pleased because he was now armed with a new factoid, albeit an erroneous one, about Judy Collins, and disapointed because someone had learned about it before he had.

Ah, Murph--what a guy.

Headstart on the frog and the deer and the dog

A lazy day today. I started the day spray painting a cd case black and the house smelled like paint all day. Didn't expect that. Then I did some yoga, which I hadn't done in a while. Felt good. Later on, early evening, I sat on the porch with a book and Mona, the friendly cat that lives next door, came over and took a nap on my lap.

That lasted until Lauren walked by with her dog. Mona hightailed it out of there and I had a nice conversation with Lauren. She had stopped over last night to drop off the karaoke machine and hung out for a little bit. Today, she apologized if she seemed off. Apparently, she was a bit drunk when she came over. I didn't really notice anything different about her save that she was a bit more social than the last time I saw her. And last night she explained why that was so. She was getting out of her car as Spira and I were getting into her's. She said she thought we were fighting and that's why she didn't say more than hi. Funny thing is, Spira and I weren't even close to fighting. Interesting.

I'm going to end this and will give myself five minutes to decide if I want to commit to watching the Shining tonight. Not sure if I want to dive into something that heavy, especially after the day I spent lounging around listening to Caetano Veloso on my I pod with the windows open and the weather outside glorious. Ah, maybe I'll just watch some Celtics and do some reading. We'll see.

Man, I was mean but I'm changing my scene

I called Amanda the other night and left her a message. I awoke the following morning for work and saw that she had sent me a text message. It read: " I'm in the hospital w/ meningitis. Call me around lunchish. I should be awake." Without knowing if it was the treatable or serious form of meningitis, my concern level was high. I got a hold of her later on and, thank God, she had the treatable version. She'd already been in the hospital for a couple of days and sounded pretty groggy, but it seemed recovery wasn't too far off. I told her I'd call her after work to let her know what time I was coming to visit. She didn't pick up when I called, which I took to mean she was probably sleeping or not feeling well enough for a visit. I'll check in again with her today to see how she's doing.

--

Near the end of work yesterday, I received a call from Lauren, my neighbor who rented stuff from me a few weeks ago. She wanted to get a karaoke machine for the weekend and was planning on coming by to get it that day because she wouldn't be able to do it any other time. I told her she'd end up having to pay another day of rental if she did that because she was planning on returning it Monday.

I offered to bring it home with me and process the rental today so she wouldn't be charged the extra fee. And that's what I did. I dropped it off at her house and she wasn't pleased that there weren't many cd's to choose from. I saw what she was getting at---to a point. There were at least seven cd's in the package, which is a pretty good selection, if you ask me, and hey, she got a free delivery and I saved her about a hundred bucks by processing her order today. See what happens next time you go to rent from me, woman! Seriously, though, she wasn't that bitchy, and she did thank me for doing her a solid.

--

I finally have someone helping me out up front. Her name is Kim and after three days of work, she already knows more than most of my staff combined. She's been wonderful to work with so far. I hope she sticks around.

Today must be angry prick day. Almost every other customer from the last day or two has called to lodge a complaint. And most were ridiculous, so I wasn't very sympathetic. Although I have a pure heart, I don't take kindly to unwarranted abuse. Bring it on, fuckers!

I need to get up to NH and see some friends. I miss them and it's about time I make a pilgrimage their way.

For the gag, and the bind, and the ammunition round

There was an unexpected result to a prank I pulled at work last week. I had put a picture of a muscular guy in speedos that I ripped from some ad in a magazine and hung it in the warehouse bathroom. The reason I did this, to elaborate on the obvious, was because the guys out back carry themselves as ardent heterosexuals and to illustrate this, the bathroom is laden with issues of Maxim and Stuff magazine. I expected the photo I hung up to be taken down immediately, accompanied by a good measure of outrage.

What I received instead was silence. After a day had passed, I checked the bathroom to see if the picture was still there. It was right above the toilet where I left it. Another day had passed and nothing changed. I wondered if somehow it escaped everyone's attention, even though it was displayed prominently. No, I thought, they must have seen it, but why was it still up? And where was the outrage?

I finally decided to conduct an inquiry. I waited until someone made a comment declaring their manliness, which predictably didn't take too long, and then I pounced. It was Larry who made the comment--I can't recall what it was, but it was probably pretty ridiculous--and I responded with something like "If you're so macho, then why do you have that picture of a scantily clad man hanging up in the bathroom?"

"Oh yeah, I was wondering about that! Who the hell put that up? I saw that the other day."

Al, who was in the room, asked what Larry what he was talking about.

"You mean you haven't seen that picture? How could you miss it? The damn thing's eye level when you take a piss!"

Al played dumb and didn't seem to care one way or another if the picture remained hanging or if it was taken down. Hmmm........

Well, it's been about a week now and the man in the speedos remains at his post, watching over the bathroom like a gargoyle. I'm curious to know what would happen if I put up another photo like the last one. I bet it would provoke a mass outing.
--

The Celtics are playing their first game at the Garden with their new lineup. So far they are dominating the Knicks and, after the misery that was last season, I'm stunned at how improved they are. Not only are they an improved team, they are an elite team. It's only preseason, but I can say that. When you have Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, and Ray Allen playing on the same team, your status automatically elite. The intensity is there, the kinship is there, the great playmaking is in full effect. Yes, it's going to be a great year.

I've got timbos on my toes and this is how it goes

Had dreams of UFO's last night. Vague recollections of multi-hued orbs zig-zagging in the sky tease my waking thoughts. At one point, the moment that woke me up, I was laying on my back and began to vibrate, not unpleasantly, beginning at my feet and surging up to my head. I suspect reading the Skinwalker book before bed had something to do with these dreams. I woke up this morning with a slight feeling of dread. Don't know if it was from the dreams or if it had to do with the general unease that crops up in my life when things aren't looking too bright, which I'm unhappy to report is more often than not.

Ah, but it's still early and the day can change for the better. The sun is out and if I get out of here early enough today, I'll go for a run. If by some chance it's raining then, I'll do some yoga, an activity I've been meaning to get back into. And after that, I'll see if I can send some emails out to clubs in the area, something I've been meaning to get around to. So, like everyone does in their respective ways, I'll trudge on and make the best of things.
--
I'm eager to play out. I've been practicing a lot and, consequently, my skills are sharp. All I need to do, like I said above, is book some shows. If I had an agent, things would be easier, but I'm not about to pay an agent for something I can do for free. Maybe when I'm on the brink of fame will I take that next step.
--
I put a dent into The House by the Cemetery, the Fulci film Rich let me borrow the other day. Rich, a horror movie buff, told me it was pretty scary, so I was looking forward to getting creeped out. I made it through a good chunk of the film before falling asleep, which should be an indication of how successful movie was in giving me the creeps. The film would have worked if it wasn't so hilariously implausible. And the shitty acting and even shittier overdubbing didn't help much. I should withhold further judgement until I see the rest of the movie, but I'm pretty sure the only thing I'll be terrified by will be the fact that I wasted an hour and a half watching a D-level film wearing a B-movie's clothes. I still haven't seen a movie that's put the fear into me like The Exorcist or Rosmary's Baby. The Shining is no slouch, either. Most other so-called horror films just don't do it for me. Same goes with comedies. Not too many out there I think are funny. I must have incredibly refined sensibilities or there just aren't that many quality films in either of those genres. To massage my ego, I'll go with the former of the two.
--
Breaking news: Jim, Karen's brother who has an office in our building, just came over to me carrying a waste basket with a baby mouse in it. Apparently, it had fallen in and couldn't get out. Jim, feeling merciful, emptied the bucket outside and the mouse scurried off down the sidewalk. Unfortunately for the little guy, some kid coming from the opposite direction saw him and started throwing rocks at it. He lost interest quickly and went on his way. About a minute later, I looked over at the door and saw the poor mouse jumping into the glass trying to get back inside. I went over to it and decided to grant it its wish, only I planned on putting it in the warehouse instead of back in Jim's office. I hurriedly searched for a box to transport the mouse in, but I discovered, much to my dismay, that the mouse couldn't wait any longer for me and sought other means of reentry. I hope he was successful, because life on the outside is brutal.
--
Next month will mark my two year anniversary being a non-smoker. I think I'll buy a pack of butts to celebrate. Just to show myself I'm not missing anything. Not to, you know, actually get back in the habit again. I'll just smoke the pack and be done with it.
--
Haven't thought about her too much lately, but when I do it's with a sense of regret. Regret, in that I feel I missed an opportunity, if one was even there in the first place. That's what sucks---not knowing if it was all in my head or if there was/is something tangible there. My gut tells me she's not interested in anything beyond a frienship, that for all I know, she's feeling the same way about someone else the way I do with her. Ah, but my gut is a drunken compass when it comes to women. Aw, hell, do I even want to immerse myself in a relationship right now? Would I prefer something more casual that would leave room for the independence I've grown accustomed to over time? Or would I rather remain alone? Sometimes I answer yes to each question, but with varying enthusiasm. It's obvious I'd say, judging by what I choose to write in this journal, that I'd like to try the relationship thing. (God, do I sound like a soft little prick wearing hushpuppies and a cardigan, or what? Man, I need to go eat some steak or something.) As hard to read as I sometimes find her to be, as frustrating as that makes me, I just utterly think the world of her. Can't help myself. Ah, and there's where I set myself up for the fall. Even knowing that, my feelings for her won't budge. Christ, if she only knew...
---

Whew, this was a long one. I should probably give us all a break and wrap it up.

Your heart felt good, it was drippin' pitch and made of wood

Work was a challenge for me this week. As we headed into the weekend, I suspected it would culminate with either me quitting out of frustration or getting fired because of my inability to run a smooth ship. The former option was within my control and I struggled to keep my head about me, so as not to find myself suddenly out of a job with no prospects, but it was hard at times. The latter option wasn't, even when things seemed to be at their worst, likely to occur. However, when Saturday hit, and Karen's frustration seemed to be at it's zenith, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't the sacred cow I fashioned myself to be.

Karen and I get along, mostly out of our mutual amazement at the absurdly inept crew we have working for us. Saying that, though, isn't being fair to my guys. To be sure, the lot of them are loutish and sluggardly a good amount of the time, but they do work and when they do, it's not exactly pushing pencils. So, branding them as absurdly inept is overstating matters, but not by much, so I won't strike it from the record.

As I was saying, Karen and I get along, but this weekend, though it was never addressed, there was a good amount of tension between us. It can be summed up thusly: Karen wants me to get a handle on my crew because they fuck up too much and I have trouble doing that because I'm usually busy doing other things. Because Karen isn't at work very much, she doesn't see what's going on--how busy we can get, etc. This weekend wasn't abnormally busy, but we did, as has been the trend lately, have a few larger than normal orders go out.

At one point on Saturday, after I returned from lunch, I went out back and told Bill I was thinking of just walking out and going home. I was frustrated because I didn't think Karen recognized the effort I was putting forth to ensure there were no missteps in the operation. Bill said he'd miss me if I left, but told me I should go if the job was putting me into a bad place.

I realized I was being sily. I told Bill I wasn't going to walk out---I wouldn't do that to Karen---but I explained my frustration to him and wondered aloud if I had the sack to handle the job. I told him my concerns that Karen might be looking to replace me, but prefaced them with the statement that I was stressed and what I was about to say wasn't necessarily realistic.

The day got better and I felt good that I overcame the hurdles I encountered throughout it. I was fortunate to have dealt with some fine customers during my shift---hell, I don't think I had a bad one. I went home feeling good about myself, despite a lingering concern that Karen was getting fed up with me. With perspective, though, I saw that it was just as likely that she was concerned that I was going to quit, leaving only her to operate the business. Not an easy task, especially when you're raising two year old twin girls.

Today, I got an email from Karen and when I saw her name as the sender when I opened my mailbox, I thought for sure she was writing me off---literally. Turned out she was sending me a message of praise. She explained that she went into work this morning to process an emergency delivery and saw that I had completed a lot of paperwork, so she sent me an email to thank me. I think, though, that what she was really doing was telling me that there was no hard feelings.
--
While watching the game last night, Kreg told me he'd go running with me today. I didn't believe that he'd do it and told him as much. I foresaw a groggy, bed-headded Kreg approaching me the next morning, explaining to me there was no way he was going to drag his tired frame outside for anything. Kreg seemed sincere, however, and even though I had just come off a vigorous run and was planning on taking the following day off to recover, I was more than willing to change things up if Kreg held true to his word. We settled on 11:30 as a time to head out the next morning.

I woke up around ten today, had a bagel, juice and some coffee, and played a game of basketball on my playstation. As I was wrapping up the game, I looked at the clock and saw that it was about 11:30. As far as I knew, Kreg was still asleep. A few minutes later, when he was standing in my doorway asking me if I was almost ready to hit the road, I was impressed.

Kreg did well on our jaunt through portions of Somerville and Cambridge. We walked briskly most of the way, with me periodically taking off on my own to do some running. Near the end of our trek, Kreg did a little running himself. We were out for about an hour. Good job, Kreg.

Later, Kreg, Rich, and I went to Newbury Comics. Since Rich works for the company, we all took advantage of his discount. I came home with a couple of Modest Mouse cds, and ones from Neil Young and Caetano Veloso. Then we went to the grocery store to stock up on goodies.

I've been enjoying the new dynamic in the house, which lends itself to group outings like the one I just described. It's nice living with people who are more or less on the same wavelength. Definitely makes things easier.

I'm going to watch Fulci's The House by the Cemetery, at some point tonight. Rich lent it to me earlier today and I'm curious to see if it'll spook me. I hope it does, but I'm doubtful. We'll see.

I'm going to Arizona, sex on the rocks all warm and red

Went out to dinner with Spira last night, but we didn't end up going to the show because the band had their set pushed back to much later in the evening and neither of us was up for a late night. And since the band plays out constantly, we figured we'd be able to see them another time.

So we went to Bertucci's at Alewife and had a nice meal. We talked about the pros and cons of online dating, goal setting, and the inherent dangers of living in a quick fix society. I've never really spoken to her about "her"---well, once I did a while back, but that's a story for another time--and I didn't use this occasion to delve into the subject. No, I'm going this one alone.I also asked her if, out of all of our friends, she could name anyone besides her and me who believes 9/11 was an inside job. She had her ideas, thought one or two people we know believed it, but wasn't sure. After discussing it for a bit, we couldn't think of one person that we knew for sure found the official 9/11 conspiracy theory suspect. As it stands, the jury's still out regarding some of our friends, but others have made it known explicitly or implicity clear that they think anyone who believes it was an inside job is delusional. Sadly, though, given the vast amount of solid evidence against the official story, it would appear that they are the ones who are delusional. I don't say that with venom, or out of a sense of superiority. It's not a pleasant thing believing that elements within one's own government would perpetrate such a heinous crime---and I can understand why anyone would find it hard to swallow--- but unfortunately, the evidence that this is precisely what happened can not be ignored.
--
I had an amazingly long dream last night. I was playing a show with Sean and Luke Warm at some college. We played in an auditorium to a full house. The first set was Sean's, with me on bass and Luke Warm on drums. We played a full set and the songs played out in real time, or at least seemed to (I told you the dream was long).

When that set was through, I got up to play mine. I was eager to play, but I couldn't get the mic stand to stay put. Just as the crowd was getting restless, one of the stage hands came over and fixed it. I began to play and I played well. About halfway through my set, the crowd began to get rowdy. It seemed that a guy with an acoustic, unless he was Jack Johnson or Dave Matthews, wasn't the right fit for this crowd. Between songs, some dork in the audience started heckling me. I forget what he said, but he sounded like that character from the Simpsons with the puberty-cracked voice. I wasn't swayed by his lame comments and waited for the crowd noise to settle down before I annhilated him with a verbal assault. However, my comeback was completely lame---I went after him the Simpson's character similiarity, but no one knew who I was talking about---and people started walking out. I played a few more songs and, just like before, I played well. In fact, I played real well. It didn't matter, though, because the place was nearly empty by the time I completed my last song.

Well, I hope I got payed well for my services.
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The Office is on tonight and I'm going to see if Amanda is up for watching it with me. So far, this season has lived up to the grandeur of the previous three.
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Great Celtics game last night. I'm still in awe at how much the team has changed, for the better, over the course of a few months. It's going to be a fun season.

If I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know

I've been alternating between good spirits and poor lately. Fortunately, the good has overshadowed the poor, but the shitty moments have been more frequent than I'd prefer. Considering the fact that I don't have too much to be cheery about, I'm not ready to put a bullet in my head. Whatever my faults are--and there are countless, I assure you--being chronically depressed isn't one of them. My worst moments invariably fade away before long, even when I'm determined to keep them close. So, there's that, at least.


So what's been ailing me? Just general life stuff, for the most part: unpaid debts, limited social life, health issues, work stress, being perpetually single, etc. Pretty much what most adult humans have been known to go through. I can balance it pretty well, but lately it feels as though I'm being attacked on all fronts. It's all about balancing the sweet and the sour and I'm due for some sweet. Hopefully soon.


It's a shitty, rainy day and I've made plans to go see a friend of Spira's band play tonight. There are two reasons why, even though I'm tired and wouldn't mind a quiet night of reading, I'm not cranky about going out tonight: 1. the band is playing at Johnny D's in Davis Sq., a five minute walk from my house, and 2. I'll be seeing a band I actually want to see play. If I remember correctly, they're called True to Find, or something close to that, and when Spira first played me some of their stuff, I was damn impressed. They had a Rachel's/Masada feel that I really liked. And from what I understand, they're impressive live. And I'll get to see my friend Spira, someone I don't see that frequently anymore. It should be a fun night.
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It's a Barnum and Bailey world

In the past three days, I've had trouble with coffee. The first incident involved me brushing against a freshly brewed mug of the stuff and knocking it on the floor, where it quickly spread in all directions. I was amazed how such a small amount of liquid could cover such a wide area. I quickly grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess, but soon discovered I'd be better off with a mop. After spending a good seven minutes looking for it---which frustrated me to no end because I had just seen it a day or two before---I gave up and went back to the paper towels.

On Saturday night, Kreg let me use his coffee maker and, as simple as the thing is to use, when I came back to the kitchen to pour a cup, the coffee had spilled all over the unit and onto the floor. And there were coffee grounds everywhere, to boot. Still don't know how that happened.

And yesterday, I repeated the first incident, only this time it occurred in my bedroom and the coffee spilled all over my legs and into my shoes. As I had just taken a shower, I wasn't thrilled to have sticky coffee all over me, but at least it had a pleasant aroma.

Some will tell you that I'm a klutz---namely Spira---but I vehemently disagree. I'm coordinated like an orangutan and that's why this coffee business is so beguiling. I've had a few cups since without incident, so maybe I've got it out of my system.
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Luke Warm came over the other night and he, Kreg, and I watched the Celtic's first preseason game. I took more joy from it than it, than I did from most of last year's regular season games because it was the first time we got to see the new lineup. Seeing KG, Ray Allen, Paul Pierce, James Posey, and the rest of the cast was thrilling. Amazing how much the team has changed from last year. Can't wait for the season to begin.

I've watched some of the baseball playoffs, usually when Kreg or Rich are watching, and though I'm not an ardent fan of the sport, I can appreciate it. I'm a long way, however, from adopting the fanatical approach to the game, or more accurately to the Red Sox, that most people in New England are fevered with. Whenever I tell anyone I'm not that into the Sox, I'm always afraid I'll get a beating, but I usually just get a look that asks " What the fuck is your problem?".
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I didn't do too much today except read, which was how I planned it. I read from David Ray Griffin's book Debunking 9/11 Debunking and from The Hunt for the Skinwalker, a book about the high strangeness that occurred on a Utah ranch through the nineties. Very bizarre. So far it reminds me of a cross between The Mothman Prophecies and The Amityville Horror. Between the two books, I suspect my dreams tonight will be nothing short of fucked up.

Never learn not to love

Sure enough, yesterday after work while I was sitting on my front steps, I saw the woman I met in the store the other day. She yelled a hello to me as she entered her house from her car. We were both on our phones, so that's as far as the conversation went. I wasn't about to go knock on her door after that, but I'm sure I'll run into her again. I did, however, break out the binoculars and took a looksey into her apartment from my bedroom window. That's acceptable behavior, as it doesn't violate her personal space.




You may or may not be wondering why I would entertain the notion of pursuing someone if I'm hung up on someone else. The simple answer is I'm a free agent, not beholden to anyone. Yeah, I would love it if things moved forward with "her", but I'm not hedging my bets. The truth is, I don't have a good enough read on the situation to feel confident about my chances.

I can put an end to all this speculation by sharing my feelings with her, but it's not that simple. As I've pointed out, I've tried before, but she didn't give me the chance. The advice I'd give a friend about what to do would go like this: " Life's too short. Go and ask her out. Even if you think she'll say no, do it. And who knows, maybe she'll ask you what took you so long. "

I should take my own advice, but man, she's a slippery one. I've got my work cut out for me. I think one reason I've kept all of this mostly to myself is that I'm surprised at how she's effected me. I know it sounds phony, but I've never been this........fuck, how do I put it?---consumed by the allure of another human. It's almost embarrassing because I feel like I've lost a bit of free will concerning her, and it's so.......cliche, i guess is the word, to be in such a weakened position. But it's also a position of jubilation, of wonderment; a feeling of elation to be in the presence of another who, by her very existence makes you feel blessed to be alive. So, uh yeah, I'm keeping my options open.

Tomorrow never knows

At work this past Saturday, a woman came in with a guy to rent some tables and chairs for a party they were throwing that day. My mechanic, Bill, was with me when they arrived and I knew immediately I'd have to keep him in check. The girl was attractive and it didn't hurt that she was wearing tight jeans and an equally tight t-shirt. Bill is in his fifties but, after years of hard living, looks like he's in his sixties, so when he tries to flirt with the women that come in our shop, it comes off as pretty damn old-man- creepy. Usually, he doesn't cross the line, but he makes sure he's right on the edge of it.

It was apparent that Bill was very into this particular woman given the amount of flirting he was doing. Fortunately, he didn't take it too far and fortunately the girl was good natured enough to take his flirting with a grain of salt. After she left, Bill kept coming over to me to tell me he couldn't get her out of his mind. "Man, she had the nicest body I've seen in a long time", he said. I didn't disagree with him---she was most definitely a pleasure to look at. However, she utterly enchanted Bill, and I found the whole thing utterly amusing. Even at the end of the day, he brought her up, reliving every minute of her time here. Yes, Bill was smitten.

Yesterday, she came back to return our stuff. She told me she had seen me out walking the day before (I was getting my car) and I asked her if she lived in the area. Turns out, she lives two houses away from me. The party that she had rented the tables and chairs for was in her backyard. I told her I could see the festivities from my bedroom window as I was getting ready to head out.

Throughout our conversation, I gradually came to the conclusion she was flirting with me. The conclusion was not set in set in stone, however---I've been off the mark more times than I'd care to admit---but still, there we were having a good conversation. It ended with me telling her I'd probably see her around. She smiled and replied "maybe tomorrow".

I can't wait to tell Bill about this. He'll probably invite himself over my house now. Maybe I should reconsider telling him. Anyway, I'm not inclined to go after every woman who talks to me (and there are many, dear readers), but I do like the fact that this particular woman lives only twenty ft. away from me (I measured). And the jealously it would inspire in Bill if I ended up with her is almost enough motivation for me to ask her out. I'll keep you posted if anything comes of it.
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She's about a mover

Amanda came over last night. It had been a while since we'd last seen each other. She brought over some wine and convinced me to watch The Hills with her. Truth be told, it didn't take much convincing. On my own, I'd never watch the show, but watching it with Amanda is fun. Sometimes the act of watching someone derive pleasure from something is pleasurable in itself. Before the show came on, we sat at my dining room table and talked, made each other laugh, and talked some more. It was a good night.
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Yesterday, while I was waiting for my car to be fixed, I watched The Family Stone on HBO. It was one of those holiday comedy/dramas that have become a genre over the last several years. This particular film had a decent cast: Diane Keaton as the matriarch; Craig T. Nelson as the patriarch; Luke Wilson as one of their sons; Sarah Jessica Parker as the girlfriend of one the sons. The list goes on. Overall, the film was uneven, but as with most films of its kind, I didn't expect much from it and therefore enjoyed it on a basic level. Roger Ebert once pointed out that films centered around Thanksgiving always end badly and films that center around Christmas always end well. He found this odd because Thanksgiving is usually the holiday you spend with the people you want to be with and Christmas is the holiday you spend with the people you have to be with. Well, The Family Stone centered around Christmas and it did end well. There were some teary moments, however, and those, I must admit, in the interest of full disclosure, did their job on me. Don't worry-- I made up for my moments of weakness by going outside and grilling up a massive steak in a Patriots jersey while talking about cars with my neighbor.
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I've noticed, when looking back on past entries on this here blog, that I've made a welter of spelling and grammatical errors. This is due to the fact that I don't really spend anytime editing my work. Most of what you read is the first and final draft, although there are times when I go back and make corrections. Those times are few and, consequently, my entries are often less than perfect creations. Why am I relating this to you? Is it out of a sense of guilt? Is it because I want you to disregard my flaws and view me as a perfect writer who never makes mistakes? Is it because it's early still and I'm not yet awake enough to think of anything else to write about? I'll let you answer those questions for me, provided of course you find them worthy enough to mull over. I know I certainly don't.

March of the Pigs

My wallet is quite a bit lighter tonight. I just forked over close to eight hundred smackers for new brakes. I definitely needed them: for a while now, every time I'd make a stop, I'd hear a grinding, squealing sound. Yeah, so though it was a large chunk of cash, at least I won't be fretting anymore about my brakes suddenly failing and crashing into a group of school children crossing the road.
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I had an odd dream the other night. I was playing an imaginary game of soccer in my back yard (I was a kid again, and that was an activity I engaged in all the way up to my early teens) and I lost control of the ball at one point and it bounced into the woods between my house and the neighbors. When I went to retrieve the ball, I discovered a canal that connected to a large pond further down the hill and deeper in the woods (there is a pond at the bottom of the hill but no canal). I started walking towards the canal when I noticed some men, who I took to be government agents, tossing live pigs into the canal. Without drawing any attention to myself, I made my way back to the house. The next morning I went back into the woods to the pond at the bottom of the hill. There I witnessed hundred of pigs, many dead and many more dying. That was when the dream ended.

I've made attempts at interpreting the dream and it's always a frustrating endeavor doing that because you never know for sure what the true meaning is. And who knows if there is one? Anyhow, I have a feeling the dream has something to do with my spirit being polluted or deficient in some way. I say this because I do know that water symbolizes spirit in dreamlore and if you've got rotting pig corpses in it, well it's safe to say it's not going to be very pure.
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I had lunch with my parents yesterday. It was good seeing them. I found out my grandmother isn't doing to well and both my parents have been dealing with their own maladies. My mother made a joke about having to go to the doctor more the older one gets. I didn't find it very funny. I have a feeling I won't ever have a family of my own and the prospect of losing my existing one is a little scary. No one wants to go through shit alone.
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Went out with Spira to the Lizard Lounge the other night to see her friend's band play. Actually, she had just met him online through a dating service and this was to be the second time she'd seen him in person. I hadn't seen or spoken with Spira in about a month, so it was good seeing her. The bands we saw were so boring, so predictable. I figured the club would have better fare on a Saturday night, but I was mistaken. It made me want to play out more. It was a fun night,though, in spite of the crappy music.