Thursday, January 31, 2008

So come on ye rolling minstrels, and together we will try, to rouse the spirit of the earth and move the rolling sky

I can't wait until the Super Bowl is over with. I'm interested in watching the game, but the media blitz that's been going on for the last two weeks makes me want vomit through my eyes. Nothing insightful has come out of all this slop. Nothing. Not one fucking thing. Do I need to know a player's favorite pizza topping? Will I be a better person having found out that Tom Brady plans to play hard? These guys are skilled at what they do, which is chase a ball around in a thinly-veiled homo-erotic kind of way. They are not like the Beatles back in the day, who were charming and witty in front of the media. Most certainly not. And nor do I expect them to be. My complaint is that two weeks worth of football players talking is two weeks too many.
--
Made some Biryani after work and then went for a much needed run. Once again I encountered the dog brigade on the bike path. Their nightly road blocks are a real thorn in my side. As I approached them, another runner coming from the opposite direction had to come to a stop before he was allowed to pass. He made it through and shook his head angrily. I had visions of the two of us getting into an old fashioned brawl with them. We'd be outnumbered, but we'd prevail---our pure hearts would propel us to victory. The only problem is I love dogs and wouldn't want to have to knock some of them out. I'll have to think of a less violent solution to the problem.
--
Off to watch some of the Celtics/Mavs game. A big game, but we're without KG. I predict we lose this one. Hope I'm wrong.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Pretend that you owe me nothing, and all the world is green

Today was an improvement over yesterday. Karen gave not the slightest indication that she was planning on axing me; in fact she seemed to be in a good mood and our conversations over the phone were lighthearted. That was a relief. I do need to get another job, but I'd prefer the convenience of time to find one over being forced to take the first thing that came along just to make ends meet. Ah, life.

To make matters interesting, I worked exclusively with Gio and his girlfriend today. Karen wanted me to show them how to navigate our system on the computer. I half expected Gio to give me the evil eye every time I looked Dru's way, but he acted comfortable with me being in her presence. He even didn't mind me whispering instructions into her ear. Really, though, he was positively cordial with me and I wondered if he knew I was aware of his tattling (I've been dying to use that word in a sentence for-EVER!). Didn't matter, because I had resolved not to act any differently around him. I really don't have any hard feelings towards him, even though I would have preferred him coming to me with his grievance. It's not for me to determine what others deem offensive. Like I said in my last post, though, I think there's more to it as far as he's concerned, but I'll let it pass because I don't find it worth it to go tit for tat with him in whatever mind games he's up to.
--
I've been listening to T.Rex non stop for the last few weeks and the reason for it is because they're so damn good! Here's a list of why I'm so damn sure:

1. Marc Bolan's voice. Sexy, feminine, muscular, bluesy---Devendra Banhart does a decent Marc Bolan, but hasn't learned to sell it like Bolan did.

2. The instrumentation. Bass, drums, electric and acoustic guitars, and often a string section. And these strings aren't symphonic background filler---no they're right up in the mix, punchy and grooving away with the other instruments.And there's no fat in any of the playing; there's a lot of space, even in the heavy songs. The word "space" is absent in the vocabulary of many a modern band.

3. Hooks galore. These songs land in your head and stay there, which, unlike commercials that do the same thing, is a welcome visitation.

4. They're fun. It's hard not to find yourself, even if you're grumpy, having a good time listening to T.Rex. Take note: whenever you're depressed about something, like how much better looking I am than you, listen to some T.Rex. Better than anything your pill-pimp doctor will shell out.
--

I'm going to try and finish Blade Runner tonight. I had to shut it off last night because I kept falling asleep. I fear, because I'm more sleepy tonight than I was last night, that I may end up doing the same thing. Maybe a little T.Rex will wake me up.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Half of what I say is meaningless

Bill called me at home last night and told me that Gio complained to Karen about some comments that were made on Saturday. This is what happened: Gio, Bill, Kim, and I were out back near the end of the day and I needed to finish up some paperwork with Kim so the two of us headed up front. As we left, Bill said something to the effect of "Every one knows the two of you are getting it on, so go ahead and be alone together". To that, I responded with something like this, "You don't have to be left out, you know; you can watch us for a fee." That was it, in a nut shell. Everyone laughed and went about their business. Apparently Gio was adversely affected by what was said and complained to Karen.

A little back story, if I may. Ever since Kim started working with us, Bill has tried almost everything to get her to go out with him. Consequently, I told Kim, on multiple occasions, to let me know if he ever takes it too far. She shrugged me off every time telling me she's heard it all and can take care of herself. When it was made apparent to Bill that Kim had no interest, he became a little pouty, but more or less backed off. Frankly, most of the courtship was tongue in cheek and I have a feeling Bill would have been surprised if Kim had said yes to a date. I had even bet Bill---his idea---two hundred dollars that she wouldn't say yes to a date. He still hasn't paid me. The bet, by the way, was the impetus for my remark about him paying to watch us. I told him that at least I could get some of the money that he owed me.

I wasn't at work yesterday and from what Bill and Kim told me, Karen was upset by what happened. She approached Kim about the "incident" and when Kim told her she didn't know what she was referring to, Karen told her about Gio's complaint. Kim told her that she wasn't offended in the slightest and that the only thing that bothered her was Bill asking her out all the time. But even that was only a mere annoyance. Karen was more upset than Kim, it seemed.
She told Kim that she can't have that type of thing going on and that it was sexual harassment.

Karen never said a word to me about the "incident" over the course of the few phone calls we shared today. That's probably not a good sign. It means either she's gotten over her initial feelings, which I doubt, or she's not going to say anything until she fires me over it. I'm not being paranoid here. When she fired me back in December, she had been harboring her anger over a couple of things I did "wrong" for two weeks before she said anything. This, I'm afraid, could be a mirror image of that time. Or, who knows, maybe she'll talk to me about it tomorrow. I'd like a chance to tell my side of things.

I'm keenly aware of how careful I need to be about what I say at work. Even though I hear far, far worse than what I dished out on Saturday, I know that, because I'm the manager, I'm held to a higher standard. What I said on Saturday was dripping with sarcasm and was the only time I've ever made any kind of sexual remark in front of Kim. And the only reason I said it was because I knew Kim wouldn't be offended. She had even proposed the idea before that we mess with Bill and Gio and whoever else thought we were hooking up, by saying precisely the type of thing I said to Bill. If they think we're doing something we're not, than we may as well perpetrate the notion. We never acted on the idea, though. I didn't think it was a good idea. Aside from what was said on Saturday, I've never said anything lewd to any of the women I've worked with there or anywhere else.

Gio told Karen he was worried I might say something offensive in front of his girlfriend, who works with us one day a week, and Karen shared the same concern. Unbelievable! I know how jealous Gio is of anyone with a penis, and as a result, I barely ever say a word to her. Just because I said something salty on Saturday it appears that , all of a sudden, I've become a sexual deviant. I feel like Don fucking Imus! I take responsibility for what I said---I shouldn't have said it, even though I was sure when I said it that Kim wouldn't be offended. Having said that, Gio didn't complain because he was offended. He complained because he wants to look better in Karen's eyes than I do and because he's not right in the head. It was only a few days ago that I took him aside and told him that I'd be there for him whenever he needed to talk or anything else. If he was genuinely offended by what Bill and I said, then I'm a ring tailed lemur. No, this was about something else.

And the frustrating thing is, I can't say any of that to Karen. If I were to, it wouldn't erase what I said, and I'd just look like I was deflecting, which, in truth, I would be. So whether Gio was offended or not, I still said what I said and I have to live with it. One slip up may have cost me my job. All day today I was knotted up and tight in the chest. I haven't felt good about pretty much anything for awhile now and this new development didn't help matters. I never used to feel this way, at least not so consistently. I'm trying to keep my head above water, but my limbs are growing tired and I don't know how much longer I can keep going this way.

After work I went for a run. I ran and I thought about my life and all the ways it sucks. I ran faster as a way to say "fuck you" to all that. By run's end, I felt better. My outlook was clearer.I need a new job, that's plain to see. Obviously this one is not working out. It's just a matter of whether I quit or get fired. Either way, it's not the end of the story. As bad as things are, as bad as they've ever been, I'm intelligent enough to know that in a different situation I'd thrive, that I'm not inherently like this, that many others put in my situation would feel the same way. The run helped put things into perspective.

I'm embedded in my behaviors, in my way of life. The type of changes I need to make may feel cathartic as a result. Anything will be better than this though. I can't take much more of it. I'm still hopeful enough to appreciate and take strength from, even the smallest change. And if I were to start seeing someone? Hell, that would send me soaring. So, I don't need massive changes to make me happy, to propel me towards bliss. Simple pleasures, like sharing a laugh with a friend or reading from a good book, will do well enough.
--

A happy birthday to Kreg, one of the best friends a guy can have. I've known him most of my life and I still find his sneeze fascinating. Cheers, my friend!

--

The Celtics are crushing The Heat. As an indication of how low the Heat have sunk: KG and Ray Allen are sitting this one out and Paul Pierce has only scored a few points, and the C's are all over them like stink on a monkey.

Nice.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Blood on the rise, it's following me

Watched No Country For Old Men today and it lived up to my high expectations. Every aspect of the film was pleasing, though given the grim subject matter, pleasing might not be the operative word here. Maybe engrossing is more apt. Or captivating. Whichever, it's the best movie I've seen in a while. The antagonist, Anton Chigur, who the movie revolves around, or more he revolves around it, like the black shroud of death, makes Hannibal Lechter look like a swell guy. After the movie was over, I realized it wasn't about a drug deal gone bad or greed, but about the living nightmare of Anton Chigur and his almost supernatural ability to hunt down his prey with slow and exacting precision. The film doesn't take the easy way out, which is good because if it ended like a typical Hollywood movie, the lingering unease I felt well after it ended would have been absent, and as odd as it may sound, I wouldn't want to be deprived of it. A movie that has the ability to quietly haunt you after the credits roll has done its job.
--

Spent Saturday night with Janelle in Lowell. We got some Brazilian food and went to Brew'd Awakening for some coffee afterwards. We must have been twice the age of the kids hanging out there and when we walked in they must have thought the same thing, judging by the look they gave us. If Janelle hadn't reminded me that, though we were older than them, we were still hipper, it would have been a bummer.

Lowell was like a ghost town that night, which was strange. Maybe everyone decided to stay in for the night. Oh, well, they're all assholes, anyway. It was great seeing Janelle. She is one of the great ones and I'm lucky to have her in my life.
--

Tonight I'll watch Blade Runner for the first time ever. I've seen bits and pieces of it before, but for some reason it's taken me this long to see it. I'll be watching the directors cut and I hear it's an improvement over the original.

Enough of me; I'm all tapped out. I'm off to ponder why I can't stop watching Celebrity Rehab when it's on, even though it represents everything I hate about our culture. I'm awash in contradiction, but aren't we all.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Don, he was long, misshapen and forlorn, and his woman ran away without a smile

I was reading reviews for Lonesome Dove online today and stumbled across one that revealed the death of a major character. What a jerk! This was a customer review, so I knew I was running the risk of inadvertently learning more about the story than I was comfortable with. Most people, in this instance on Amazon, are good about not publishing spoilers, but occasionally there's someone who just can't keep a secret. Well, I tracked this particular guy,"Pat from Skokie", down---don't ask me how---and ran him through with a hunting knife. I didn't introduce myself, didn't say a word---I just walked up to him and stabbed him in the chest. Of course I didn't really do that, would never do something so cold and inhumane over a perceived slight, but I'm a little concerned that I concocted this brutal fantasy. Am I becoming unhinged? Not yet, but if I read another spoiler....
--

Went for a satisfying run after work, despite the frigid temperature. I'm tired now and will probably fall asleep before I intend to. I won't put up much of a fight, but even still, I'm going to coach myself to resist the call of sleep for as long as I can.

Talked with Janelle tonight. I miss her and it was great hearing her voice. She told me about her new love, her dog Zico, and her fondness for him was stamped all over her voice. I'm happy she's having this experience. She deserves it.

The Celtics are playing the baby Celtics, which is to say Minnesota. For those of you who don't know, we acquired Kevin Garnett from Minny and gave them half of our team in return. I think they have about seven former Celtics in their lineup. KG will still overwhelm them with his intensity and send them skittering for a rock to crawl under.

Ok, I'm out. If time permits, tomorrow I'll explain my decision to change my last name to Seacrest.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Nice as you please comes the traveling man

When I last visited my grandmother, she implored me to call my father more often. Months ago, she had sent me a detailed letter saying as much. Funny thing is, I talk to my father pretty often. I don't call him every day, but usually I talk to him once every week and a half. Is that too long a span? I don't think so, but what do I know. So, anyway, my grandmother implored me to call my father more. I tried reassuring her that I talk to him frequently, that I don't do it out of a sense of duty, but more because I genuinely get along with him. "You know", she said, "when I talk to him and ask about you, he always says 'I'm not sure what Kevin's up to; I never talk to him'."

"I talk to him all the time, Nana", I said as gently as I could muster. "In fact, I just spoke with him last night." Now, for a ninety year old woman, Nana is still sharp and, current ailment notwithstanding, active, but her hearing has long since jumped ship. Consequently, having a conversation with her requires some effort.

"Your father is alone a lot, you know. I worry about him."

"Well, he values his alone time. I wouldn't worry too much about him. Sometimes when I call him, I can tell he doesn't want to talk."

"He doesn't want to talk to you?".

"Most of the time he does, but you know, sometimes---and I can relate to this, believe me---I think he'd rather be alone."

"Why do you think he doesn't want to talk to you?"

I had hoped to avoid this type of thing. Nothing good was going to come out of this conversation. All I could do was try to put a quick end to it. So, I got real close to her and spoke slowly. "I get along with him fine, Nana, and I do think he wants to talk to me."

"You should really call him more often, even if you think he doesn't want to talk to you."

"Ah, forget it."

Tonight I called my mother. I just wanted to see how she was doing because it had been a while since I last spoke with her. Every time I call over there, I usually speak with my father; my mother's usually in bed or at work. Well, after a few minutes of talk, she said she had to go because they were about to eat dinner. I could barely get a goodbye in before she hung up. Now, I understand why she wanted to get off the phone; between work and helping out my grandmother, she's been going on all cylinders. My dad's given me this type of brush off before. I was half tempted to call up my grandmother and tell her to talk to my parents on my behalf. "Tell 'em they should call their son more and when, because he has a pure heart, he calls them, not to shoo him away like a horse fly." That'll show 'em!
--
Today was a good day, to quote Ice Cube. Except for Bill puking all over the floor and in an empty box in the warehouse, that is. He is such a mess, but I love the guy. He took his pain meds on an empty stomach and evidently his body took issue with the action. Good that I didn't see him puke---that honor was bestowed upon Ryan---but I did have to suffer the lingering sour odor every time I went out back.

After Bill's moment of weakness, I went on a couple of small deliveries with Gio. The second one was at The Residents Inn hotel in Cambridge and we got a free breakfast out of the deal. We had some oj, eggs, french toast, and sausages. While we ate, Gio told me about how a few years ago, his friends father offered him ten grand to be a bodyguard for a guy who snitched on Whitey Bulger. He didn't know who Whitey Bulger was at the time, but he still refused, not wanting to get himself killed protecting someone he hardly knew. When he finally found out who Whitey Bulger was, he patted himself on the back for making at least one sound choice in his life.

Later, I found myself working in close proximity to Bill out back. Whenever this happens, I like to amuse myself at his expense. What I do is quietly sing to myself for a few minutes. I'll start out singing popular songs like "Bridge Over Troubled Water" or "Let it Be" and then I start making up songs, just to see if Bill's paying attention. This is how it went today:

We're gonna take her out back tonight

We're gonna take her out back and do her right

We're gonna do her and fuck her and do her and fuck her and do her and......

I looped the last line over and over until Bill finally looked over and said, "What the hell are you singing?"

"It's song by Green Day. Ever heard of them?"

"I think I have, but I've never heard that song."

"Yeah, they play it on MTV a lot", I said. Bill's so out of touch that it didn't seem odd to him that MTV would allow a song like that to be broadcast. He went back to work and I started with a new song.

I like the young ones to get down on their knees

Give me something young, I need a premey to squeeze

A baby, a premey, so tasty, so creamy.....

"
Now what are you singing?", Bill asked.

"Oh", I said casually, "I think it's by the Eagles".

"They sing about that shit?"

"Yeah, it's messed up but I like it because it's catchy."

Bill shook his head and returned to work. God help me, but that's how I amuse myself.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

"Son", he said," grab your things, I've come to take you home".

Don't know why, but I had the thought today that I'd love to be able to hypnotize people, or at the very least, see a hypnotist convince a non musician that he or she is the next Bob Dylan or Joni Mitchell and is about to perform in front of hundreds of his or her adoring fans. Then the hypnotist would hand him or her a guitar and a stool and the fun would begin. I'd be curious to hear what came out of it. Maybe a new star would be born. Nah, they'd probably suck, but it would be hilarious. I have a whole list of things I'd like a hypnotist to do. Maybe I should contact one and sell him my ideas. Hey, comedians have writers, so why can't hypnotists?
--

This whole Tom Brady "bootgate" shit needs to come to an abrupt halt. I can't even bring myself to go any further with this topic; that's how disgusted I am with it. I'll sum it up thusly: this planet is inhabited by a bunch of fucking morons. Stop the ride, I want to get off!

--
I've been feeling alternately fatalistic and merry lately. Could be a good look for me. Kind of sexy, no? Ok, you convinced me---I"m going to stick with it. Maybe I'll get laid as a result.
--

Saw the pic of the creature/statue from the Mars rover today. Very interesting, me thinks. It will get absolutely zero coverage in the media, and why should it? There are other, more pressing stories out there, like the aforementioned boot-gate.
--

Ok, off to other things. I hope I get a chance to immerse myself in some Lonesome Dove tonight. So far it's been a great read.

Cheers.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

And now I hear your master sing, you kneel for him to come, his body is a golden string, that your body is hanging from

You'd think a half hour trip to visit your grandmother would be a relatively smooth affair, but fucking hell did I have a tough go at it. I waited until six thirty to leave for Chelmsford, where my grandmother is rehabbing, in order to miss out on the traffic. The traffic wasn't a problem, but the second I got on Rte 2, my windshield became smeared with salt. As I didn't have a drop of windshield washer fluid, it took only about a minute for things to become utterly hairy. I had people riding my ass, so I couldn't pull over safely. I needed to badly,though, because visibility had been reduced so substantially that I was convinced I was going to crash. I couldn't believe how quickly things degenerated. Luckily, I made it to the rest stop on 95.

I filled my car up with fluid and, by the time I got to Rte 3 five minutes later, I'd used about half of it. The roads had so much salt on them it looked as if they were covered in snow. On my way home, I ran out of fluid again and went through the same trauma, only this time I was too stubborn to pull over. Speaking of pulling over, I had to do so twice to pee on my way to Chelmsford. I still can't figure that one out. Anyway, by the time I got to Palm Manor, I'd felt as if I'd just been on a Tolkienesque journey, only without elves, dwarves, an evil lord, a friendly wizard, Gollum, Nazgul, and hobbits.

Nana looked to be in good spirits. I brought her a Norman Rockwell jigsaw puzzle and we had a nice visit. Her roommate, a woman with pneumonia, had the most disgusting, mucous-rattling, cough I've ever heard. It took some will power not to throw up all over my grandmother's bed. Nana told me about how every time she'd lie back and close her eyes these past few days, she'd be certain there was a visitor sitting beside her. And when she'd open her eyes and look over at them, no one was there. She thought perhaps it was the medication inducing these strange happenings, but who knows, maybe she really is being visited. There is so much we don't know.

I sat on the bed talking with her and she looked so old. I looked into her eyes and thought of death; the whole place was teeming with it. As she spoke about who had stopped by to visit her, I thought of how much I'd miss her when she passes, but also somehow happy for her. She's lived a long, fruitful life, and I could see it in her eyes that soon she'll be ready to go, will have had enough of old age and it's inherent pain and suffering. That being said, she also has some fight left in her and it doesn't look like she's ready to go just yet. No, I think she'll surprise us all and stick around for another few years.
--
At work today, Gio came up to me and lifted his chin up high and said, "Check this out, Kevin." He pointed at his throat and I could see a couple of red lines on his neck. "I couldn't take it anymore the other night so I took one of those big chef's knives and took it to my throat. I cut at it hard, but the blade must have been too dull, or something. I was so pissed at everything, especially God, and I just wanted it to be over."

Now, I'd been aware of Gio's psychological issues, but I never thought he'd take it this far. He told me he felt much better today, but even still, I took him aside and told him that if he ever gets to that point again, to call me and I'll come extract him from whatever shitty situation he was in. Karen and I spoke on the phone about him later on --he had told her what happened already-- and she had offered to pay for a therapist, but he declined. We both agreed that he probably wasn't going to go all the way with the knife, that it seemed more like a cry for help, but even going that far is a clear indication that he's dangerously unstable. I hope he acquiesces and sees a therapist.
--
Sad to hear about the passing of Heath Ledger. He was one of the finest actors of his generation and he will be missed. I first realized how good an actor he was when I saw The Brothers Grimm. The movie wasn't that great, but his performance was so good, it stuck with me long after I'd forgotten about the film. But it was in Brokeback Mountain that he blew me away. There was something so natural, so true, in his performance, it seemed a crime to refer to it as acting. And when I found out he was the Joker in the next Batman installment, I smiled broadly. I hope he was able to finish the film, because I bet his role in it will be worthy of the swan song it has become.
--
Kind of a bummer day today, but in retrospect it really wasn't. Despite it's dark veneer, I actually thought it went pretty well.

Aren't I the fucking optimist.

Monday, January 21, 2008

You have a muzzled dancing monkey, a little cup in a hairy hand

Watched The Magnificent Seven earlier today. I've seen Seven Samurai, the film it was based on, about ten times, and I knew going into it that there was no way it was going to live up to it's brilliance. Seven Samurai is one of my favorite movies, and if I wasn't adverse to rating works of art numerically, I'd say it was in my top three. While the Magnificent Seven wasn't an improvement over the original, it was a good movie all the same. It followed the story of Seven Samurai pretty faithfully, with only a few minor changes, but missed out on it's richness and depth.
--
Traded some cd's in at Newbury Comics today and came away with some gems. I got the import of Donovan's '67 Anaheim concert which I've been meaning to get; Liege and Lief, by Fairport Convention, a stunning album that for some reason I never got around to getting until today; Sweet Child, a split studio and live album by Pentangle, Bert Jansch's old band; and A Gift From a Flower to a Garden, another Donovan record I'd been meaning to get. And of course I've been rocking the T.Rex. Tanx is the one I've been digesting lately. It seems I've landed in late 1960's/early '70's England. Fine with me.
--
Interesting bit of synchronicity today. I had been reading from The Beast of Bray Road, a book about a strange wolf-like creature that many witnesses reported seeing lurking about in Wisconsin, often walking upright. I put it down after reading a chapter on actual wolves and about a half hour later, Spira called and told me she thought she saw a wolf walking along a patch of ground near the on-ramp of 93. We determined, based on the way she described it, that it was a coyote. Still, though, pretty interesting. Too bad for me I wasn't reading about someone getting a massage, because then maybe I'd get a call from Spira telling me she saw someone getting a massage on a patch of ground near the on-ramp of 93. No, that wouldn't have benefited me in the slightest. Better if I just make an appointment somewhere for a massage.
--
Had a delicious salad for dinner that gave me a nice jolt of energy. In it was avocado, Kalamata olives, feta cheese, black beans, shrimp, grapes, tomatoes, onions, and of course, lettuce. Hells, yeah!
--
Now that I've divulged what was on the dinner menu, something I know you were dying to read about, I will finish my coffee and see if I can't work on some music.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

I'm just a station on your way, I know I'm not your lover

Karen stopped by work yesterday to see how things were shaping up and I figured she'd be unhappy with what she found. I figured wrong. That is not to say she was thrilled---I don't think I'll ever see her that way---but due to my colossal efforts in getting people to actually work, the place looked good and she had few complaints. A small and satisfying victory.

I was fatigued and hungry when I came home from work, but still accepted an invitation from Spira to attend her cousin Maria's birthday party in Maynard. I had to forgo dinner for a while---there was to be a big spread at the party---and quickly take a shower in order to get ready in time.

I wasn't thrilled at the prospect of attending a family party. I had visions of people hanging around in sweaters, talking about their mortgages and babies. Not my scene, that, especially on a Saturday night, but I've met some of Spira's cousins before and they were pretty cool, so I figured there'd be a fair chance I'd have a decent time.

Well, there was definitely talk of mortgages and babies at the party, but it wasn't all that was talked about. I knew going into it that I'd be on my own, that Spira would be locked in various conversations throughout the night, so I did my best to mingle. I did ok, but for a good amount of the time I sat in the living room watching the college basketball on mute.

Later on, when some people had left, I got into an in depth conversation about Fonzi with Maria's husband Billy and his cousin Chris. It was the type of conversation I wish I had gotten into earlier on in the evening. Better late than never, I guess. Anyway, for about a half hour we explored the idea that the Fonz was actually a lowly sort and not the hero that he was portrayed to be. And for some reason we talked about the dynamics in the Riggs/Murtaw relationship in the Lethal Weapon movies. Chris's impression of Murtaw was top rate. "I'm gettin' too old for this shit, Riggs."

One last thing about the party. When we arrived, Spira looked at cousin Michael and said "Wow, look at those tits on you!" He was wearing a fairly tight yellow sweater and by god, did he have a pair of tits on him. I'm gonna say they were C's. I scolded Spira over her comment in the car on the way home. She said her family always talks to each other like that. "You don't think he was embarrassed by your remark?", I asked. "Not at all", she responded. "So, if he had said to you, in front of everyone, "Wow, look at that camel toe on you, you'd take it in stride?" She said she would. Anyway, even though I think Michael was a little hurt by the titty comment, I thought it was kind of funny that she said it.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?

Been listening to Cat Power's The Greatest and it hardly lives up to it's title. Not to say it's swill, but it's just so average that, after all the excessive hype, I'm left wondering if I've been listening to the same album everyone has raved about. I'll listen it to it some more and maybe I'll come around, but I doubt it. If Luke Warm's roommate Michael ever gets wind of my feelings, he'll gut me like a mackerel. He is a serious Cat Power fan.
--
I had a dream that I had a wife. It was nice. (Is that a proper haiku? My haiku skills have diminished considerably over the years, so I'm not sure. Anyhow, I did have a dream that I was married and it was nice. So, uh, yeah.....)
--

Running on the bike path after work, I once again encountered the "dog people". These are folks who congregate with their dogs on the bike path every single night between six and seven. They like to gather in the middle of the path with their dogs zipping to and fro, getting tangled up in their leashes. These fuckers are a real pain in my ass because I have to run off the path into the mud and ice to get around their road block. I always shake my head angrily and mutter something under my breath as I pass. That'll show 'em. One of these days, I'd like to come running down the path with a couple of Bengal tigers on either side of me. Then we'll see who the king of the bike path is. It'll be a bloodbath, I tell ya.
--
Just watched the Tom Cruise scientology clip. Don't think it will tarnish his reputation because people already think he's nuts, but man is this guy feverish about Scientology. I wish I was feverish about something. Maybe I'll check out Scientology. Have you ever heard the saying, "In a ham and eggs breakfast, the chicken is involved but the pig is committed"? Well, all my life I've been the chicken; I want to be the pig, damn it. Just like Mr. Cruise. Scientology, here I come!

Thursday, January 17, 2008

You came and lay a cold compress upon the mess I'm in, threw the window wide and cried, "Amen! Amen! Amen!"

My dad called me at work and told me my grandmother was back in the hospital. When I asked him when she was admitted, he told me Sunday night. I didn't bother giving him grief over not telling me sooner; I was more concerned with my grandmother's welfare. My father told me her back pain, the pain that for some reason no doctor has been able to diagnose, had gotten so bad, she couldn't even move an inch. She finally acquiesced to a trip to the hospital, and when they came and helped her up, she screamed so much, my father had to step outside. This has been hard on him.

I called Nana at the hospital after I got off the phone with my father. I expected her to sound doped up, but was surprised to hear her sounding clear headed and in good spirits. She was going to be released in the afternoon and brought to a rehab clinic in Chelmsford. And from there, she'll probably end up staying at my aunt and uncle's house across town. I hope she'll be able to return to her house at some point. If she doesn't, it will be a sad thing. She loves that house.
--

Was going to head up to Portsmouth tonight to see Shane play, but I needed to stick around here to help my dad move some of my grandmother's stuff to Chelmsford. As it happens, I don't think that will be going down tonight. Anyhow, I hope Shane, one of the most talented blokes I know, has a good set. Knowing him, I'm sure it will be transcendent.
--

I'm beat, so it will be off to bed with me soon, which means I'll probably stay up later than usual. That somehow sums up the way my life unfolds. Oh well, what are you going to do.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Lost upon the ocean, he died there in the mist

Today was a better day at work. Not once did I have the urge to horse whip myself or anyone in the face. That's progress, the way I see it. Ah, but for how long will this absence of unease last? If I get one more day of it, I'll be a happy Kevin.

What is with me and sushi lately? I've been having it for dinner almost every night for the last week or eight. Well, the shit's got a fine taste and it satisfies my hunger. No one is getting hurt out of the deal, except the fish, but since when do fish count? That was cruel. I apologize.

I used to be an asshole to fish. Not as a general rule, and not frequently, but I was cruel. In the summer, when I'd go fishing up in Maine, I used to catch perch, reel them in, and cast them back out onto the exposed rocks fifty feet from the shore. I probably only did it once or twice, but the memory has stuck with me. What a sadistic prick. I know, I know---that's how serial killers start out. The difference is I have a pure heart, which disqualifies me from chopping up my fellow humans. All that stuff with the fish happened when I was young and now, well now I'm hard pressed to kill a fly, though for some strange reason, I'm not so hard pressed to kill an otter. Strange, that. Anyway, I've softened with time, but yet my gaze is harder than ever. Go figure. To conclude, I've curbed my violence towards them, I still have no problem gleefully stuffing fish in my maw.
--
Great to see the grass roots support Ron Paul is getting, but there is no way the establishment is going to let this guy get elected. Not in the cards. I hope my cynicism is proven to be unfounded, though, but I doubt it. Anyway, check out Ron Paul and stay away from every other candidate. That's a direct order.
--
Off to watch some Celtics, work on some music, and read from Lonesome Dove. And if there's time, I'll watch an episode or two of Fawlty Towers. I better get crackin'.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

I made wine from the lilac tree, put my heart in it's recipe

Almost every day at work now is a struggle. Gio went on one pick up this morning and then went home with a bad back. That left me to do the rest of the deliveries and pick ups. I didn't mind doing them; I had already been to two of the places, and the sole pick up was in Stoneham, which was easy enough to find. As I was about to leave on my last delivery of the day, Kim took a call from the company I was on my way to, and was asked if we could up their order. So, instead of three tables, I'd now be delivering ten. Instead of thirteen chairs, I'd be giving them thirty five. That was fine. What wasn't fine was Karen calling and getting heated about how we handled the extra linens the company ordered.

When Kim took the order, she told the guy we didn't have enough of the linens he was looking for. The ones we had were stained and wrinkled. After Kim told me the guy would take any size as long as they were white, I went and loaded the extra table and chairs in the pick up and Kim got the linens ready. Karen called while this was happening and eked out of Kim the particulars of the order. From there, chaos ensued. Karen got me on the phone and expressed her displeasure with the way events unfolded. She wasn't happy that Kim, even though she was being honest, told the guy that we might not be able to give him the linens he wanted. Considering that was one of Karen's reasons for "firing" me a couple of months ago---telling customers we couldn't fulfill their requests when we couldn't---I wished Kim had never said anything to her, because now she was probably under the impression I told Kim how to deal with the customer.

A mad rush trying to get linens ready and around four thirty, an hour later than I planned on heading out, I went and made the delivery. The whole way there, I stewed in my juices over the way things unfolded. In one broad stroke, Karen had messed up the delivery schedule and came as close as you could get to branding us incompetents. I had busted my ass all day and wasn't happy at all with the vote of no confidence.

I got back to the shop around five thirty. I have no idea if Karen is about ready to fire me again or if she was just a little upset. I don't know, but I can't go on like this for much longer. My original intention was to stick it out through the summer, at least, but now I'm looking at spring and plotting my escape. That is, if I don't get canned first.

It wasn't all a bummer today. I took my car to the garage this morning and I didn't have high hopes concerning the prognosis. But the small miracle I wrote about yesterday manifested itself when I got a call from the mechanic saying they fixed the problem. All they had to do was tighten up some bolts in the undercarriage, or something like that. No more thumping sound! And no charge to me. I was relieved and damn near shocked. Keep the miracles coming, I say.

To treat myself after a grueling, shitty work day, I bought myself some sushi at Shaws and stopped at the bookstore a few doors over and bought Lonesome Dove, my Uncle Gene be damned So, after a nice, hot soak, I'll finish the last few chapters of The Blade Itself, a book I don't want to end, and will attack Lonesome Dove. That should tide me over until Abercrombie's next one, Before They Are Hanged, comes out in March.
--
Watched Eastern Promises last night and really enjoyed it. Good stuff, especially the fight scene in the sauna.

I am tired and have probably typed an incoherent post, or at the very least an error-filled, boring one, but I don't care too much right now. I will publish it as written, warts and all. Maybe tomorrow you'll get a better one out of me.

Monday, January 14, 2008

We sit here stranded, though we all do our best to deny it

As always, my days off go by too quickly. I'm not looking forward to going back to work and it's just another sign that I need to look elsewhere for work. In the meantime, however, I'll make the best of my situation, and try to keep the stress levels down.

I'm bringing my car into the shop before work tomorrow and if things go the way I think they will, I'll be picking up my car tomorrow evening needing more work done, but work I'll have to have done at another time and place. I don't envision them saying to me tomorrow, "We screwed up the first time we worked on your car, and have corrected the problem. This time for good. And at no cost to you, of course." Well, it would be a small miracle if that were the case, but who knows, maybe I have one coming to me.

The Celtics are on tonight, but I'm debating whether I should watch Eastern Promises, instead. If I wrap this up soon, I'll be able to watch the movie and some of the game. Sounds like a plan.

So, with that, I'm off to the movies, so to speak. I was hoping to write about how I really feel about my family and friends, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. I was also going to finally reveal the identity of the woman I once swooned over in these posts, but again, it doesn't look like that's going to happen.

Maybe another time.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

You slide so good, with bones so fair, you've got the universe reclining in your hair

Saw Juno today and it lived up to the hype. Ellen Page was magnificent; the entire cast was magnificent. The film hit all the right notes and was refreshing, like a glass of Sunny D. Overall, I give it 5 stars. Out of 15. Just kidding:I give it 5 stars out of 14. That's more like it.

Spira and I went to Mr. Crepe before the movie and it was a full house. Every time I go there I have to reconnoiter the place for likely places to sit. I have to admit I'm quite skilled at predicting when people are about to leave their table. Lucky for Spira I once again utilized my talent and found us a table in a manner of minutes, much to the chagrin of the other chumps looking for a table. She had little faith we'd find a place to sit and suggested we get the food to go. She's a sweet kid, but she needs to be frequently reminded that I'm a guy who makes things happen. Perhaps after today she'll never doubt me again, but I doubt it. Anyway, the crepes were delish as always. Mine had lamb in it, in case you're wondering.

After our meal, we went and bought our tickets and then went to Starbucks and each got a white chocolate peppermint mocha latte (I always screw up the name when I'm ordering. "Yeah, I'll have a white chocolate peppermint.....uh, chocolate mint mocha .......uh latte", is kind of how it usually goes). Luke Warm called and told us he'd come down and see the film with us, though it was dubious whether he'd make it on time; he was at Lechmere station. We didn't see him in the theater---he had shown up about a half hour into it---but after the film we met up with him outside.


Went for a pre Nor'easter run tonight and had chinese food that Kreg had ordered from Chang Sho when I returned. I got some Peking raviolis and General Gao's chicken, in case you're wondering.
--
I was just reading about the "Madonna-whore complex" that Freud put on the table. If you view women as virginal, sacred, and pure objects, and then after having sex with them, consider them filthy, whorish, and untrustworthy, then you've got the "Madonna-whore complex". 98% of my male friends have serious cases of MWC. Again, I'm kidding: only about 97% of my male friends have it. Fucking pigs!

I'm off to listen to some T.Rex and forget all my worries and cares. I suggest you do the same

Saturday, January 12, 2008

The night is full of holes, those bullets rip the sky of ink with gold

I opened up a bit to Spira on the phone last night about what's been going on with me psychologically. It was good to get some things off my chest and have someone listen. I felt better afterwards; I'd half convinced myself that every calamity, every trial, every bout of suffering, had to be endured alone. To be reminded that this was not the case was what I needed.
--
Watched the Patriots defeat the Jaguars at Leesa's and got to see Foley, a good friend I haven't seen much of in the last year. We talked about songwriting and the current state of music during the commercials. With great vigor, Leesa chimed in, telling me about her song, "Five Minute Fuck", and how, if it wasn't for Foley convincing her to stick with it, the song would have been ditched years ago. Judging by the animated way she lovingly described the song, I'm not so sure the song would have been ditched for very long if Foley hadn't intervened. I told her we should put out a split single, because I had a song called "Three minute cuddle", a masterpiece I never once thought of ditching.
--
Been kicking the Abba lately and........hell yeah---Abba! For years I had made the mistake of labeling them as corny, which, despite appearances, they most certainly are not. Some damn good song craft going on there 'neath the glitter.
--

Spira and I are going to catch a matinee of Juno tomorrow at the Somerville Theater. In conversation the other night, I mentioned that it was playing, and without hesitation she exclaimed, "That's it, we're going on Sunday!". So, the bill has been passed and tacked onto it was the going out to brunch beforehand clause. I'm thinking crepes in Davis Sq.
--
After spending close to eight hundred dollars on my car over a week ago, the thumping sound I thought they had rectified is back. I am not happy with this development. I called the garage where I got the car "fixed" and told them what was happening. I expressed my displeasure assertively, saying, among other things, that I wasn't thrilled that my money was ill spent. I'll be bringing my car back to them in a couple of days. Let's see if they don't fuck this up again.
--

That's all I've got for you. I'm tired and will read as much as I can before sleep overtakes me.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Song sung blue, everybody knows one

I'm coming off a brief bout of anxiety, the consequence of drinking more coffee than I usually do (what can I say? Starbucks has me hooked on their white chocolate peppermint mocha latte). As I said, it was brief, but it made me think, at the end of it when I knew I'd be alright, of God, or more, the concept of God.

How could I put my faith in something that has created, and allows to flourish, pain and suffering? Why does it even exist? Why do we need to bear it in order to truly appreciate the fine things? I don't know, or I guess I have some ideas, probably the same ones you have, but sometimes you've just got to trust that whatever is at play in the Universe is beyond our ken and has our best interest in mind.
--

Just watched 3:10 to Yuma and it was top of the shelf. Is it possible to go wrong with a film when your two leads are Russell Crowe and Christian Bale? No, it is not. Next up: Eastern Promises, a film I'm eager to watch and given the hype, will be surprised if I don't like it.

--
Today was beautiful and made me pine for spring. I'm hoping this trend of nice weather continues; it energizes the soul.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

It only costs a buck for three tries, though money never buys enough of anything, and I'm a moving target trying to shake some lead from your eyes

For the last.....hell, I don't know for how long---I've felt an undercurrent of unease. It hasn't been constant and it's been manageable, but I wonder if it's having a corrosive effect on my being. Like the tide eroding the landscape. I'm taking measures to curb, or better yet, eliminate this feeling from my set list. Part of the remedy will be found in exercise, something I've just gotten back into, and another part will be found in meditation, an activity it's about time I reacquaint myself with. Another, and perhaps the most essential, part will be found in picking on nerds; a pursuit that's fallen by the wayside, but one I've always found deeply gratifying.
--

The Celtics look about ready to lose to the Bobcats, a team they should beat. Who knows, with KG on the team, the Celtics can come back from anything, even a broken heart. Don 't know why that part about the broken heart crept into that sentence, but it's staying because it's gold, baby! Update: with 2:28 left in the game, the Celts are down by nine. KG looks like a raging battalion of Vikings has just taken possession of his soul. Look out Bobcats, this could turn out poorly for you.
--
You know who likes milk? Kittens. Yep, it's not an uncommon sight to behold a kitten lapping up milk out of a bowl. I'm pretty sure puppies aren't so keen on milk. Imagine that, seeing a puppy going at a bowl of milk. Unheard of and somehow blasphemous. I don't think bunnies are into milk that much, either. Nor ferrets. It should be understood thatI'm not referring to milk from the teat, which all sorts of animals drink, but mostly out of necessity. So, if you think about it, kittens are the only ones all about the milk, or at least the only ones I can envision, in my limited imagination, drinking it out of sheer enjoyment (I'm including cats in the equation, because they were once kittens and I'm pretty sure I've seen one or two enjoying milk in my time). You find me an animal, other than a kitten, that looks good, looks comfortable at a bowl of milk, and I'll take you out to dinner and some hot-tubbing. Actually, that sounds like fun, so please find that animal.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

We kiss on the mouth, but still cough down our sleeves

Went for a run after work and, I'm sorry to confess, it was the first one in a couple of weeks. Yes, I fell victim to the sluggish allure of the holidays and stopped running for a bit. These things happen and tonight was a good first step back into my old routine. In addition to exercising again, I also need to take a more stringent approach to my diet. Been letting too many snacks get past the censor, and that's going to stop. I see nascent veal-dom in the mirror and I don't like it. No, sir, I do not. From here on out, it's only sprouts and water for me. Nothing else. You don't think I'll be able to stick with it, do you? Well, I'll show you. I'll show you all!
--

Going to finish watching Tristram Shandy tonight, one of my favorite films of the last few years. It'll be good to see Gillian Anderson again. Man, she's purty.

--
Kim came in to work today and immediately summoned me to the back room. Laughing, she told me Bill approached her yesterday and said everyone was convinced her and I were having an affair. And that I told him Kim was "wild" in bed. I wasn't surprised; the gossip had gotten back to me a couple of weeks ago. I thought it was kind of funny and shrugged it off. For the record, I never said Kim was wild; Bill authored that claim all by himself. Wishful thinking.

Throughout the day, Kim continued to bring it up in conversation (you're astute enough to know what I mean by "it", right? I don't need to explain that by "it" I mean the gossip about Kim and me having an affair, do I? Good, because that would have used up a bunch of space and time that I wouldn't have been too keen on giving up.) . I started to get the feeling that Kim wasn't so against the idea of us hooking up. Now, I'm almost at the stage where I'd violate a block of Cabot's cheddar for some relief, but I think, if the situation came up, I'd pass on hooking up with Kim. I get along with her, to be sure, but I'm just not attracted to her. I hope this situation doesn't escalate. I have enough on my plate right now.
--
Ok, I'm off, and in case you were wondering, it is true that I'm built like a brick shit house. It's been confirmed.

Monday, January 7, 2008

In the still of the night, I hear the wolf howl, honey, sniffing around your door

I was watching an engaging documentary about William Cooper, the slain conspiracy theorist, earlier today, and there was a section in it about his thoughts on the Kennedy assassination that blew my mind. First, let me say that I've never been sold on William Cooper. He seemed a little too unhinged and changed his stance on issues a little too often for me to believe. An intriguing man, nonetheless, and hence why I watched the documentary. Ok, on to the Kennedy part.

Cooper was shown saying the driver of the Kennedy's limo delivered the final head shot and that it is easy to see on the Zapruder film. I'd heard that theory before and put very little stock in it. If it was true, no Commission in the world, Warren or otherwise, would've been able to cover that up. And I've read numerous books on the assassination and none of them covered that particular theory. As Cooper spoke, they showed the Zapruder film, with a closeup on the driver. I was stunned at what I saw. Indeed, it looked as if the driver had spun around and shot Kennedy in the head. There was the gun and there was Kennedy's head jerking back. I watched it several times and, with each viewing, I became more and more convinced that the driver shot him. How could this be, though? Why was there even a debate about a lone gunman when there was the Zapruder film clearly showing the limo driver shooting Kennedy in the head?

I did some laundry and thought about what I had seen. I had the nagging sense that the driver, despite appearances, did not shoot Kennedy. But it sure looked like he did. I went on Youtube and found some clips that showed clearly that the limo driver did nothing more than turn around. What had looked like a gun in the other clip, was proven to be light reflecting on the passenger's head.

Here's a clip promoting the limo driver theory:



And here's one disproving it:



Interesting how you can see things one way, especially if you're told what you're seeing ahead of time, and then, if looked at another way, what you've seen isn't really what you saw. I can't put it any simpler than that, so don't bother asking.
--

Watched The Wild Bunch last night and really enjoyed it. Made me want to read Lonesome Dove, a book I've been meaning to read for some time now. At Thanksgiving, my uncle Gene started talking about the book, and what began as a brief summary, quickly transmogrified into a Homeresque retelling of the story. Fortunately,I was able to remove myself from the room before I heard too much. I felt like saying to him, "Hey Gene, know why McMurtry told that story? So you wouldn't have to." Not for nothing, but I told him I hadn't read the book and was planning on reading it soon. Wouldn't you think he'd skimp on the spoilers? I'll get even with that son of a bitch. Here's my getting even fantasy:

Gene: So, after years of putting it off, I'm finally going to watch The Sixth Sense.

me: You've gone all this time without hearing how it ends?

Gene: Any time the movie came up in conversation, I'd block my ears or leave the room.

me: Still, though, it would seem to me that by now the film's big surprise would have been revealed to you.

Gene: Nope, I still don't know the surprise.

me: Everyone knows the surprise. You must have overheard it somewhere. On Tv, the radio, somewhere.

Gene: Guess I was lucky.

me: You must be looking forward to watching it, I imagine.

Gene: Oh, yeah. Can't wait. I'm dying to know what all the fuss was about.

me: Seems odd to me that you waited this long.

Gene: That's what everyone says, but there you have it.

me: I think you've seen it.

Gene: I'm telling you I haven't seen it.

me: You're a fucking liar!

my mother: Kevin!

me: I think you've seen it and you're trying to bait me into revealing the surprise.

Gene: What? Why would I do.....

me: Last time we were hear you tried to ruin Lonesome Dove for me. You knew I was planning on reading it, but you couldn't keep your god-damned mouth shut about it! Now, you're trying to get me to do the same thing to you regarding The Sixth Sense. You want me to look bad in front of everyone, but I'm too clever for you, aren't I, you wretched son-of-a-bitch?

Gene: Look, I apologize if I ruined the book for you. It wasn't my intention to do that. However, I will not sit here and be accused....

me: What was your intention, then?

Gene: What?

me: You heard me. What. Was. Your. Intention?

Gene: I-I don't know. Guess I was just making conversation.

me: That's bullshit, but whatever. Anyway, I'm not going to play your little game, so don't worry. I'm not going to spoil The Sixth Sense for you.

Gene: Well, thank you, I guess.

me: Say "Thank you, Sir."

Gene: Thank you, Sir.


I hope this fantasy comes true, but it probably won't. Everyone's seen the Sixth Sense.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Why should I care, life is one big jubilee

Woke up thinking about her. Don't know why; maybe I had a dream about her. Whatever the cause, I vetoed the thought immediately. Out of sight, out of mind---that sort of thing.
--
Another thought I had upon waking---and this is true; not some bit---was an epiphany about an old joke, one that some would tag as juvenile, but not me----I think it's probably one of the best jokes in the history of jokedom. Anyway, you've heard the joke before: Q. What is the dirtiest thing ever said on TV? A. When Mrs. Cleaver said to her husband, "Ward, don't you think you were a little hard on the Beaver last night?". I'll give you a minute to finish laughing before I explain the epiphany.

Ok, all set? Good. So, I always understood the joke to mean Mr. Cleaver had rough sex with his son, The Beaver, the previous night. But, upon analyzing it, I realized that The Beaver, the son, had nothing to do with it and the beaver Mrs. Cleaver was referring to was her own. Man, that revelation stuck with me all through breakfast and on my way to and from Starbucks. Well, I think the joke works better my way, quite frankly. There is always the possibility, of course, that my so-called epiphany was no epiphany at all, that I'd always interpreted the joke correctly. I'll have to ask around about this.
--

I had sushi for breakfast. It was good and there was no resulting troubles with my bowels, but you'd figure there would be, right? I'm asking this because I don't often have sushi for breakfast and it doesn't scream out "breakfast food". But, neither does French toast. Ok, it does, but only because..........oh, I have no idea why. I've run out of steam on this topic. I just thought you'd find it interesting that I had sushi for breakfast. "Kevin is such a exceptional and unique individual. Wish I thought of eating sushi for breakfast instead of the bowl of soggy Grape Nuts I had. If only my brain was wired like that endlessly creative, magnificent man". Those are thoughts I was hoping to eke out of you. Let me know if I was successful.
--
It's a crummy day and I'm inclined to recline, meaning I'd like to go back to bed. Before I do that, though, there are errands to do.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

It was like lightning, everybody was frightening, and the music was soothing , and they all started grooving

It's one thirty and I'm sleepy but I'm going to try to stay awake a bit longer. Maybe do some reading if my lids will obey my will and remain open. I worked myself to the bone today and I'm tickled pink that I'll be able to sleep in tomorrow. And I'm tickled pink that I used tinkled pink in a sentence. It's taken me years, but I've done it. That's one monkey off my back.

Michael, Luke Warm and I watched the Celtics defeat Detroit in possibly the best and most meaningful game of the season. Big Baby Davis scored twenty buckets and was the best player of the game. Not bad for a rookie.

Cheers.

Friday, January 4, 2008

I've got my drink and my two step

Okay, because this type of thing is popular on Myspace, I'm going to try my hand at a game I just made up. And you're going to play it, too. I'll start.

It's a very simple, yet powerfully evocative game. It's called "The Seven" and, I'm not going to lie to you, it's fucking brutal. Ok, here I go. First, you take someone you know, someone you're close enough to that you could reveal three things about them that would either embarrass or ruin them. Or both. Then you respond to three prompts, and if the verisimilitude of these responses is found to be lacking, then someone even closer to you than the person in question will be sent to jail for a crime they didn't commit. For a very long time. Don't question me on this, just know it will happen. I have friends in the business.

Anyway, your first response would be to this command:

DESCRIBE HOW THIS PERSON CAN BE SHALLOW.

So, if your best friend Thom was the person in question, you might respond like this:

Sometimes Thom can be so small. At his birthday party last year, his sister dropped by when he was opening his presents. Thom had been working the room up until that point, making witty remarks and eloquent statements. His sister came in the room, sobbing quietly. When Thom's mother asked her what was wrong, she told us her friend Tiffany had just done a cannonball into an empty pool and broke her neck. Everyone rushed over to her in a wave of support and Thom, still opening his presents, said in a loud voice, " So, are we done over here, or are you going to come back and watch me open the rest of my presents?" Later, he offered an insincere apology, saying he was just joking when he made the remark, but we all knew he wasn't.

Next, you would respond to this prompt:

GIVE A DETAILED EXAMPLE OF A TIME THIS PERSON HAS HURT YOU EMOTIONALLY OR PHYSICALLY.

We'll use Thom again.

A bunch of us were watching The Seventh Seal one night and when it was over I asked Liz, the girl I was dating at the time, if she liked Ingrid Bergman as a director. Thom heard me say this and said, "InGRID Bergman was the daughter of IngMAR Bergman, the director you're about to pretend you know so much about in order to impress your lady friend." I was terribly embarrassed, and so was Liz, as evidenced by her hasty exit from the house and subsequent refusal to hang out with Thom in any capacity. Thom really hurt me that night and I still haven't totally forgiven him, even though a few years have passed.

And then you'd respond to this last bit:


DESCRIBE A TIME THIS PERSON HAS TALKED BEHIND SOMEONE'S BACK. AND IT HAS TO BE SOMEONE YOU, AND AT LEAST THREE PEOPLE WHO WILL READ THIS, KNOW.

At the bar last weekend, Thom started going off on our friend Steve. I admit I joined in at first---everyone needs to vent once in a while---but Thom wouldn't quit. He was saying things like, "Don't get me wrong, Steve's a cool guy, but really, who hasn't read Emerson? You'd thing after thirty years on this planet, he'd have stumbled on to him at some point. I guess those John Grisham novels have done the trick for him." Like I said, I joined in at first, which I'm not proud to admit, but I shut up pretty quickly when Thom said this about Steve. "He couldn't see me because it was so dark, but I was cringing the entire time when Steve played at open mic the other night. First of all, he plays "Wish You Were Here", which is so fucking obvious, and then he goes ahead and butchers it. Yeah, I know music is more of a hobby to him than it is to us, so we can't expect him to be David Gilmour, but the way I see it, if you're going to subject people to your playing, even if it's only open mic, you should take some pride in it. I'm sorry, but there was no pride on display during his performance. What was even worse was watching his girlfriend and her friends gush over how great he played. They looked him right in the eye and told him how good he was. I couldn't decide if they actually believed it or if they were bullshitting. Either way, they're fucking idiots. Steve loves the attention, but it's not like what they say has any value. He should really dump that chick, but he won't because he likes the fact that he's smarter than her, which is kind of pathetic, but whatever. Don't get me wrong, Steve's a great guy, I love him to death, but what the fuck?"

So that's the game. I've decided you should go first. Post your responses on Myspace and let's hope it catches on. And don't get hung up on why the game's called "The Seven". Just do what I told you.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

And behind you, I have warned you, there are awful things

This year has not started off very well for me. Yesterday's fear of losing my job coupled with today's car issues, has left me pining for the simpler days of 2007, which wasn't exactly a banner year. Anyhow, here's the skinny on today:

--Took my car to the garage. No problems yet.

--While there, I was asked if needed to take any keys off my key chain with me. I thought about it for a few seconds and said I didn't. This lack of foresight will come back to haunt me.

--At work I tried to instill in my staff the need to step things up a notch in order to finish inventory and other assorted tasks in a timely manner. They didn't feel the sense of urgency I tried to convey. Ryan acted like the petulant child he's prone to act like, questioning every single fucking thing I told him to do, and Kim, well Kim is usually my right hand woman, but she wasn't much more effective than Ryan today.

--Around ten, I got a call from the mechanic asking me to come down and take a drive with him. He couldn't hear the thumping noise I complained about and wanted me to point it out to him. I hopped in the pickup and drove down immediately, spurred on by the desire to have this matter put to bed as soon as possible. I took the mechanic, a dead ringer for David Caruso in looks and demeanor, for a drive and, in keeping with Murphy's Law, the thumping sound that had been prevalent only hours before, decided to be shy and not make an appearance. I shook my head ruefully and just as we were pulling back into the garage, the car made the noise. Finally.

--Back at work, I got a call around eleven from the mechanic explaining that I needed new ball joints, an alignment, tire rod, blah, blah, blah, which would cost me close to eight hundred smackers. Perfect. I wondered if I'd ever see a bill lower than seven hundred where my car was concerned.

--I took the pickup home for lunch and looked forward to a nice meal and a little quiet time. As I got out of the truck, I realized I didn't have my house key with me because it was with the other keys at the garage. I called Marie, my landlord, and asked her with a little embarrassment to let me in the house. She came down and tried a bunch of keys. None of them worked. She went upstairs to grab another set of keys. They didn't work either. Fuck! I drove back to the garage, which fortunately was close to my house, and grabbed my house key. Needless to say, my lunch wasn't very relaxing.

--We were without heat for most of the day at work because we ran out of oil. Good timing, considering today was one of the coldest days of the winter. Kim and Ryan complained incessantly, chiming "It's cold, it's so cold" over and over again like a couple of hatched Robins. Short of telling them to shut the fuck up and stop being whiny little pussies, I told them to focus on other things, like work, to distract them from the cold. When they started up again with the complaining, I told them to shut the fuck up and stop being whiny little pussies. Then they shut up.

--Kim took me to the garage after work. I pulled out a check and was told they don't take checks. Foolish me, I had it in my head that a check represented money. My bad. Since I didn't have a credit card handy (don't ask), I was going to have to leave my car there until I got the cash together. Having sympathy for me, the owner said he'd take five hundred in cash and I could pay the rest in check. I had to walk about a half mile before I found an ATM that would dispense the proper amount. Good times.

So today was frustrating, but I didn't give up and I'm not about to slit my wrists or stuff glass in my eyes, which will disappoint some of you, I'm sure. Even though there were points during the day when I felt the level of stress that spawned the thought, "Oh, so this is how people end up having heart attacks", I still came out on top. I'm going to take a nice hot soak and will relax for the rest of the night. Sometimes that's enough.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

The folks up north will see me no more, when I get to that Swanee shore

I came to work today with the haunted feeling that I was going to be let go. I won't bore you with the reasons why I felt this way, only to say they weren't without merit.

Well, I emerged from the day unscathed and can breathe a little easier. It's hardly ever a good time to lose one's job, but if today had gone as I feared it would, I would have been in quite the unenviable position. To wit: My car needs some immediate repairs, the cost of which I have no idea about, because the mechanic I took it to on Monday, after having it in his lot the entire day, informed me that he thought it was my suspension that needed fixing. However, he had no clue how much it would cost until he made further inquiries (?), which he wouldn't be able to get around to until some time today. Needless to say, I got my car out of there post haste and will be taking my business elsewhere. Anyway, you see what I'm getting at: if I lost my job today, I'd be without a job and left with a car that needs immediate repairs, which, for all I know, will cost a ton.

As is evident, I don't have a firm sense of job security. What I need to do is keep my eyes open for a new job while plotting my future. I'm not cut out for the precarious life, as sexy dangerous as it is.
--

Man, I'm loving The Blade Itself! What a great read! It's been a while since I've had trouble putting a book down. I'm almost half way through it and I don't think I'll be able to wait until March when the next volume comes out. I'll have to order a copy from the UK, where it's been published for some time. I'd been plodding through Erikson's Midnight Tides, which is pretty good, but Abercrombie's writing scratches me where I itch, so he gets priority.
--
Had a dream about Mandy, the dog of my youth, last night. I frequently have the same dream about her, and last night's was no different. In it, I found her laying down in a corner at my parents house and felt a surge of guilt over forgetting she was still alive. She looked old and as I rubbed her belly she angled her head up at me and the look of pain in her eyes filled me sadness. Also in her gaze was a plea to let her die. I kept petting her and wondered if she'd been fed in a while. She was so quiet and frail laying there; it would be too easy to forget her, I worried. Petting her, I felt like weeping. How could I forget about her? How could I leave her to such a lonely fate? How come I've made this post an all-out bummer?

I'm not sure why I have these dreams . I'm not even sure they're necessarily about her. In actuality, I never abandoned her, not even close. In fact, I held her in my arms at the end. And it's not as if I've forgotten about her, either. I think of her often, and fondly. So why these painful dreams? Wouldn't it be more likely, considering my time with her, that I'd have dreams about her in her prime, running and playing? Like I said, though, these dreams might not have so much to do with her and may speak to something else entirely. Whatever the meaning is, I'd prefer not having these Pet Semetary type dreams about my ol' girl.
--
I'm looking forward to watching more episodes of I'm Alan Partridge tonight. Knowing Me, Knowing You, the last series with him in it was damn funny, but the bar has been raised for this one. Ah, I love good comedy, as indicated by all the yucks I've shared with you throughout this post.

Cheers!

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Knowing me, knowing you

New Year's Eve was F-ing bangin'!!!!! Yeah, that's right, things were out of control and I can't even believe I'm not in the hospital recovering from all the damage I inflicted on myself. I've never understood those people who spend New Years like it's a night out with grandma. They are barely alive, if you ask me. They probably don't even drink, either. Anyway, here's what I did.

My night started yesterday morning. I woke up and pounded a couple of growlers to wipe away the cobwebs. Then, after deciding two weren't enough, I had two more. Since I'm fucking awesome at holding my booze, I barely felt a buzz. Then Skeezy came over and rolled a spliff for the two of us, which we smoked nicely. The shit he had was from like Belgium or Liberia, or some shit, and it KNOCKED OUR ASSES RIGHT THE HELL OFF!!!!!!!

We sat around and watched Supertroopers and talked about the chick Skeezy banged at the club the night before. Nice! Around four, Skeezy bounced and I had another growler to tide me over until dinner. I played guitar hero for a while, all high and drunk (nice!) and then fell asleep on the couch.

Later on, Skeezy came back over with Tooley and Sweeney. Tooley brought the jello shots and we went to town on 'em. I scolded him for not putting triple the amount of alcohol in the shots, but whatever, he was already buzzed, and it wasn't too big of a deal. I did, however, have to cool off in the bathroom for a few minutes. I punched the mirror and I guess I'll have to get a new one today.

We got chink food for dinner and we totally fucked with the delivery guy. Skeezy blew snots in between the bills and handed it to the guy. The guy frowned at the money in his hand and Skeezy screamed "You got a fucking problem, you fucking illegal immigrant?" in his face. The guy looked like he wanted to say something, but he was too chicken shit and left. Good thing, cuz we would have turned him in to the government and they would have shipped his ass back to china land, or wherever he came from.

Skeezy puked all over his pork fried rice and got all pissed cuz he thought they dosed the food with poison cuz they hate Americans. Yeah, he was cocked, but he might have been on to something. So we got in his car and drove to the Chinese food place to complain. Before Skeezy could say anything to the assholes, Sweeney poured a bottle of his piss all over the counter and said "We don't like this commie shit in our country, you fucking cocksuckers. Poison us again and you'll see what America can do!" That about summed it up, and we left, laughing our asses off in the car. Fucking Sweeney!

Later, we went out to the club and met up with Jenna, Amy, Jules, and Duffy. Jenna was looking fucking hot, and I made sure I danced real close to her when "Soulja Boy" came on. I was double fisting a couple of growlers while I did it, too. LOL. She was totally feeling my vibe and I was like "You look bangin' in those jeans, baby! You're coming back to the crib later, right?". She was down with it and we danced some more.

Amy and Jules spent a lot of the night in the ladies room cuz Jules was pukin' and cryin'. It sucked, cuz I wanted to mack on her at some point. Whatever, I wouldn't want to hit on someone who can't hold their booze, anyway.

When the ball dropped, I was fucking cocked out of my skull. Nice! Some guy walkin' by me said excuse me and I punched him in the jaw. He's lucky I didn't do more, the fucking cocksucker! Go to a gay bar if you want to hit on guys. Know what I mean? Anyway, he was knocked the fuck out, snoring away on the floor. It was a good punch. Jenna saw it happen and ran to the ladies room crying. Whatever, Duffy and Skeezy saw it and thought it was hilarious. That's why they're my friends and Jenna is just some chick I fuck.

After the club, we went back to the crib and did keg stands in the kitchen. Duffy got in a fight with Jules and she started hitting him in the face and shit. Then they went into the bathroom and started crying. I went into the living room and sat with Jenna, who had passed out on the couch. I kept trying to wake her up so we could into the bedroom and fuck, but the bitch wouldn't budge. I got so pissed, I dragged her outside and left her on the sidewalk. Amy found out about it and had Sweeney drag her back inside. She got all in my face and yelled at me about how inconsiderate I am and blah, blah, blah. I gave it right back to her, but the landlord came down and told us to be quiet, so I couldn't unleash my full fury on her.

Around five in the morning, everyone was passed out all over the place except me and Skeezy. We shaved Amy's head and Skeezy pissed all over her. Serves her right for being a bitch and yelling at me. It was so funny! Then we played some beer pong in the kitchen.

And that was my New Year's Eve. I woke up on the kitchen floor with a piss stain on my crotch. Nice! Overall, aside from not scoring with Jenna, it was a bangin' night.