Thursday, October 30, 2008

It's like a dream to be with you again

At Mara's place last night, we watched Jules & Jim until Obama's infomercial came on. On both counts, I was along for the ride. I've seen Jules & Jim before and didn't like it very much and, with all due respect to Obama, I've had more than my fill of him. The film was only slighter better this time around and Obama did his Obama thing, which is to say he was well-spoken, magnetic, and partial to the word change.

I could tell by her behavior that Mara had decided to curb her affection for me, which is probably not a bad idea. Several times throughout the night, if we were sitting or standing close to each other, she'd move away. I'm not sure if the distance will increase to the point where we no longer communicate, but I get the sense that it could go either way. It would be a shame if that were to happen. I really like Mara-- she is sweet and kind and deserves more than I can offer.
--
I ended up getting a few hundred smackers from the insurance company that represents the woman who bumped into my car last week. Not bad for a few scratches! I won't see a penny of it, however; all of it will be applied to bills. Still a fine feeling, coming into money.
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Hey, FB! Are you done with MySpace, or what? If so, you better create an account on this site muy rapido and start posting. That is a direct order. Oh, and we need to be social soon. What d'ya say?
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At work yesterday, Deb, and a few others, were discussing the poor condition of the ladies room. By the sound of it, the women of our building are a filthy, unsanitary lot. Aside from an occasional unflushed toilet, the men's bathroom isn't so bad. I've definitely seen worse. Like today. Today I saw worse.

When I got to work I had to pee. In the bathroom I approached one of the urinals and saw drops of blood in it's basin. Smartly, I moved to another urinal. Somebody was not in a good way, to be sure. Pissing blood or bleeding from the balls is no one's idea of fun.
--
Ellen was talking about going somewhere to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show this weekend. I told her not to. "I really, really dislike that movie", I added. "Makes me want to puke on my shoes just thinking about it." She was taken aback at my response, but it needed to be said. She'll still see the movie, I bet, but if she tells me she enjoyed it on any level, I will never, ever, speak to her again. I will, however, communicate with her in writing if need be. I'd finally be able to put the chalkboard I wear around my neck to good use.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

It's the aim of existense, to offer resistance, to the flow of time

I got a little misty during the ring ceremony that preceded the Celtics game tonight. You may think I'm a Nancy, but when I saw Paul Pierce weeping openly as they handed out the rings, I couldn't help but get a little choked up. If it's a criminal act to be in tune with your emotions, than lock me the fuck up. Now, would Bogart or Mifune approve of my actions? Of course not ---I'd be less than human to them --- but they'd have to admit my display of emotion denotes sophistication and a quiet, abiding strength. And, anyway, they're dead so who cares what they think?
--
Rich has been avoiding me again. I don't think I'm being paranoid, but I'll let you be the judge. Last night I came downstairs and headed to the kitchen. I could hear Rich in there and, based on his frequent bouts of avoidance, I didn't expect I'd run into him. What I expected, and what happened, was him making a hasty retreat to his bedroom which is just off the kitchen. I only managed to catch a glimpse of him as he bolted into his room.

In the kitchen, I saw that he was boiling something on the stove. If he doesn't want what he's cooking to burn, he better get over what's making him hide from me because I've got some dishes to do and probably won't be through anytime soon, I thought. So I did my dishes, wondering all the while what he'd do.

After a few minutes went by, I felt bad --- I don't know exactly why he behaves this way, but I believe it has more to do with a general social anxiety than it does with me personally. So why play this game with him? I decided to throw out the trash, providing him a window of opportunity to gather his food in relative peace.

Outside, I saw through the window that Rich was in the kitchen, preparing his meal like a line cook on a hopping Saturday night. I confess to laughing at his expense, but just because I felt bad about his predicament didn't mean what I was watching wasn't funny. To give him a little extra time, I hung out in the driveway for a couple of minutes after the trash was thrown out. When I made it back inside, I heard the sound of his door closing. I imagined him on the other side of it, sliding to the floor in sweaty relief.

Another close call tonight. I don't think he heard me come down the stairs this time, because he really had to scramble to get into his room ( it's occurred to me that these encounters with Rich are not unlike ones I've had with squirrels and other skittish members of the animal kingdom). I was about five feet away from him as he faded into his room. I was so close! I felt like Roger Patterson.

Like last night, I had some dishes to do, but when I saw that in his haste, Rich had left behind his dinner (a Chicago-style pepperoni pizza --yum!), I abandoned the idea. No need to make another night's dinner an adventure, I thought.

After I finish with this, I'm going back down to the kitchen for a drink. I'm thinking I should bring a camera and some plaster in case I need to make casts of his tracks. No one will believe I saw him unless I provide proof.

Back to the Celtics. No tears, I promise.

Monday, October 27, 2008

I don't know if I'm an actor or ham, a shaman or sham

Standard Operating Procedure was fantastic. When it ended, I watched it again with Errol Morris' commentary. The film is comprised mostly of interviews with several of the soldiers who were prosecuted for their roles in the humiliation of Iraqi detainees at Abu Grahib.

Like everyone else, I was disgusted when I first saw the leaked photographs. What Morris does in this film, is show how it's possible to have a moral compass and still commit or bear witness to inhumane acts. These soldiers, who were following orders like soldiers are supposed to do, served time while the people in the upper echelons of the military who had given the orders were not even investigated. Another cover-up to add to the growing list.
--
I got a message the other day from someone at the insurance company that represents the woman who hit my car. He wanted to know what type of damage it incurred in the accident. After realizing that I might be able to get some money out of this, I called him back today. Someone will be coming by to take a look at my car in the next few days.
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Was thinking of throwing a Halloween party, but it's a little late for that, I think. I'm looking ahead to November and a party in honor of Danny DeVito's birthday, which falls on the 17th, sounds pretty good to me.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

One and one half wandering Jews, free to wander wherever they choose, are travelling together in the Sangre de Cristo

Went to an early birthday party for my dad and my aunt at my grandmother's house this morning. It wasn't a very good time. Everyone seemed like they would rather have been somewhere else. Or maybe I was just projecting. I ended up hanging out with my mom more than anyone and when it was time to go, I felt awkward saying goodbye to my grandmother. I hadn't spent much time with her.
--
I was just thinking about how great the Buzzcocks sound to me right now. If some one, maybe even you, were to ask me at this moment who my favorite band is, I'd probably say the Buzzcocks. But if this someone who may or may not be you, asked me the same question two weeks from now, I might say it's the Red House Painters who are my BFFs. That is why I don't care for, eschew even, that question. Know what I'm saying?
--
I managed to avoid doing anything significant today. I meant to do a little cleaning followed by some reading at some point. Didn't happen. I did, however, take a nap, but I don't think that would be many people's idea of significant. For what it's worth, the nap was a good, hearty one, and I felt refreshed upon waking.
--
When I spoke with Foley the other day, the topic of his pending divorce came up. He is not in the best of spirits currently and I tried to guide him towards visions of greener pastures, but who knows if it had any effect.

He brought up a song I had written a few years ago. He was curious to know if it was about someone whose identity I'm not inclined to share here. I told him I didn't know what the song was about, that the lyrics sidestepped my brain on their way to the paper. "Could be about her, I said. And the more I thought about it, I realized that it probably was about her.
--
I plan on watching Errol Morris's Standard Operating Procedure tonight. I've been intrigued by it ever since I read Ebert's review a few months back. I'll be surprised if I come out the other end of it none the wiser.
--
One thing of significance I did today was watch Oprah's interview with Cormac McCarthy. It was relatively softball, but because he never does interviews, it was worth watching. I still can't believe the only thing I've ever read of his was The Road. I enjoyed it very much. After watching the interview, I resisted the urge to go out to Barnes & Noble and buy something of his, probably Suttree or Blood Meridian, because I'm currently reading well over a handful of books right now and the last thing I need is another book to add to the clutter. But if the tug remains strong over the next week or so, I'll consider adding yet another book to the pile.
--
Enough of me. I've said all there is to be said tonight. The Buzzcocks record has concluded and I shall be on my merry way.

Friday, October 24, 2008

All I have to give you is a love that never dies, the symptom of the universe is written in your eyes

I drove down to Salem to see Spira's band play. I had been hoping to make the trip with a friend or two but it wasn't to be. Luke Warm didn't return the call I made earlier in the day and Foley had other plans. And Mara, the only other person I thought would go, had already planned on seeing her friend Alister play.

When I saw her last, she had asked me if I wanted to go, but I declined, almost solely because I've already seen him play a bunch of times and, with all due respect to Alister and his fine songs, I needed a break. Mara goes to just about every one of his gigs, which are numerous, and I'm sure I'll be afforded the opportunity to see him play again. I think Mara wishes Alister wasn't married, but really though, where their relationship is concerned I know the words but not the music. One thing is evident: they have a bond that's quiet and strong, and it's nice to see.

It took me a while to find parking in Salem. The Halloween crowd was out and about and parking spaces were at a premium. Salem in October is an interesting experience. For some reason, I was drawing parallels between it and Burlington, Vermont. Must be the cobblestone streets they share.

Spira's band, Machine 475, is what Kraftwerk would have sounded like if they wrote songs for Madonna. They have an airy, nonthreatening, techno vibe and they often employ unlikely acoustic instruments like the didgeridoo, sitar, and harp, into their act, which ratchets up the enjoyment factor as far as I'm concerned. The guy playing the didge' looked like Devendra Banhart. He wore antlers and was draped in what looked to be an elk's hide. I imagine the get up had to do with Halloween, but he was so freaky that I can't be sure.

The band played well and Spira got to sing more this time around. I sat with Seany Boy and Emily, the guitarist's wife. Our waitress was cute and sincere -- she'd waited on my table before -- but I abolished any thought of the two of us together when I recalled the scene in Adaptation where Nicholas Cage gets rejected by the lively waitress he had fallen for after a discussion they had about orchids.
--

I felt under the weather all week and didn't really put much energy into thinking about Ann. At work, I put all my attention on the tasks before me and barely gave her, or anything else for that matter, a second's thought. Near the end of the week, I had drawn the conclusion that she wouldn't find the idea of us expanding our relationship very appealing. And I didn't care very much because I thought whatever flame I'd lit for her had been stamped out.

And then, at the end of the day today, when she sat at my desk and helped me search for something online, I knelt beside her and felt a renewed longing. And once again, it seemed as if she was into me, in fact I was certain she was. How could I have thought otherwise. I was inches from her long, black hair and I felt the same exact shyness I felt when I had my first crush back in the sandbox days. I can't tell if that's pathetic or endearing. Maybe it's both -- who knows? -- but there's no getting around the fact that she confounds me. I cannot pin her, or the way she feels about me, down. No one ever said these things are easy. Wait a minute, I think Glen Frey may have said something to that effect.
--

My friend Doug has started blogging again and I am thrilled. And so are you if you've read his work before. I have included a link to his page and I recommend you take a look. He is a gifted writer and if he killed a thousand golden retrievers after drawing and quatering my family, I'd still consider myself a huge fan. Now, even though I risk losing you, dear readers, I command you to visit his page. If you don't, I'll kill a thousand golden retrievers and draw and quarter my family.

I have finished watching The Office (UK) dvds and wish Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant would hurry up and put out another series. Like within the next week or two. Probably a tall order. Guess there's nothing for it but to rewatch Extras.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

I'm too much with myself, I want to be someone else

Below are my answers to arbitrary questions, or if you prefer, my take on those wonderfully insightful surveys on MySpace. Speaking of arbitrary, I just read about the nature of the word on Wikipedia. I found the entry informative, especially how it illustrated that arbitrary is not quite the same as random. Fascinating stuff, by gum! If you don't believe me, take a peek for yourself. I'm sure you'll be glad you did. Ok, back to the point of this post.

Elvis or The Beatles?

Always hated that question. Replace Elvis with The Rolling Stones in the equation and it's a much closer race. The Elvis/Beatles match up is so lame; I can't believe it's still has legs in our culture. Whatever. Anyhow, I'd pick The Beatles in both instances. That was easy, though. Give me a harder one.

Can or Neu?

Impossible to decide; they're both equally dear to me. Give me another.

Fallout Boy or Neu?

Hmmm..... Neu, I guess.

If they were to film a documentary at your job similar to The Office, how would you react to the idea?

I'd probably quit, or at least take a leave of absence during shooting. I don't want my job creeping into other areas of my life. And even if it's on a small scale, I don't want to risk being associated with something that barely reflects who I am.

Who do you respect most in the whole wide world?

Bonus Jonas

The best thing at McDonalds?

The filet-o-fish, son! Only 380 calories and 18 grams of fat. Sometimes they fuck it up and slop on way too much tartar sauce, but usually it's hella-good.

Which of your female friends would you most want to make whoopie with?

I'll give you two solid hints: she's not balding and there is at least one vowel in her name. And, if you still can't figure it out, I'll offer you one more hint: she's never played organized football.

When did you first hear the phrase "greasy spoon"?

As recently as a few years ago. I went decades without it in my vocabulary. Am I a late bloomer or is it pretty common not to hear about a greasy spoon for a good chunk of your life? I have no idea. Anyway, it was Monet, a woman I was once gaga over, who told me about it. Yeah, I know it's possible, probable even, that I heard about a greasy spoon at least a couple of times before that, but you know what, who gives a shit? Judging by what I've written above, though, it's evident that I at least gave a paragraph's amount of shit. That much we know is true. Next question.

Can you name five things you have at least once a week?

1. sushi

2. a paranoid thought accompanied by a mild wave of anxiety

3. an orgasm (don't say ewww!)

4. a pitch meeting at HBO

5. a physical altercation with a nerd, the lowest form of life

What's your primary sleep position?

I'm a side sleeper, son! We're the best of the best

Who fucking rocks?

I'll tell you who fucking rocks: Bonus Jonas!


EXCLUSIVE: Nick and Joe Jonas leave for concert without Kevin (1 of 2) by sar.loves.kevin.jonas.


What makes you question your intelligence?

Lots of things, but most recently when I spent more than a few minutes earlier tonight watching Road House. The only positive thing I took from the experience was seeing Ben Gazara, which reminded me I should watch Buffalo 66 again.

Would you rather go to the Museum of Science or hear a really good Bill Cosby impression?

I'm all about the Cos'. Especially if the impression involves one of his Pudding Pops commercials.

Okay, one more question and I'm out of here. It better be provocative.

What color is your hair?

Brown

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

The woman I'm thinking of, she love me all up, but I'm so down today

To say I had a shitty day yesterday would be inaccurate, but there was a period of time from when I left work for the day until I got home that could certainly be labeled as such. Up until about fifteen minutes to quitting time, things were fine, but when Marcy came over to my desk with some last minute paperwork, they henceforth spiraled in a southerly direction.

I wasn't miffed at the work she gave me; in fact, there wasn't much of it and, if I timed it just right, I'd finish it before quitting time with a couple of minutes to spare. Well, I wasn't on my game at that point, because I made a series of mistakes with the paperwork that, though easily remedied, kept me at work fifteen minutes past the hour. That may not sound like much, and usually I'd agree, but in this instance, I was aching to go home not long after I arrived at work. Fifteen minutes felt like forty five.

Still, I wasn't irritated at staying a bit late. I left work, got in my car and backed out of my spot perpendicular to the curb and heard a scraping sound --- my front end obviously hadn't cleared the curb. I saw a strip of rubber on the ground where my bumper had just been and, after a quick inspection of said bumper, I tossed the article in my back seat and drove away.

On the road, I discovered I needed gas. I went to the only gas station I knew of in that area of town and, upon opening my wallet, discovered it was empty. Oh well, I thought, I'll just use the ATM. The gods weren't favoring me at that moment, because, as it happened, the ATM was down for the count. Guess I'll use the credit card.

In keeping with the way things were going, I had left my card at home. Damn! I ran across the street in the rain to the White Hen, used their ATM, and ran back to the gas station. In line, I managed to get behind a guy who looked to be buying a pack of cigarettes using about six methods of payment. I'm not sure, but I think I saw some dubloons in the mix. Anyway, it was a lengthy process. When he was through, it was my turn to pay, an act I was eager to complete. From behind me, I heard a guy say "Put thirty on pump eight" to the cashier, as he tossed his credit card on the counter.

I watched this fucking hick make his way to the pump and thought what a dumb, arrogant prick he was. Oh well, he'll still have to wait his turn, I thought. When I returned my attention to the cashier, a middle-aged, dim-witted woman I've had a couple of frustrating encounters with before, I saw that she was processing the guy's card. I stood there dumbfounded. The guy had clearly been behind me in line, but here she was attending to him first. As she failed again and again to process his card, I stood there bewildered.

After a few minutes had passed, she figured it out and said "Oh, I'm sorry. I can never figure out how to use this damn thing". The only response I could muster was an icy stare. Though there were numerous ways I could have lashed out at her, and believe me, I spent much of the ride home devilshly coming up with a few, all I could do then was maintain the stare. I was starting to feel spent and just wanted to go home.

By the time I hit the highway, it was almost six o'clock. I should have been home already. Once in town and sitting in traffic, I called my sister to ask her a couple of questions. Not five minutes into the conversation, BAM!, I was hit from behind. I pulled over and inspected the damage. Nothing much, just a few scrapes on the bumper. It wasn't so long ago that I had been inspecting another bumper. What a day!

The woman who had hit me with her hulking SUV was nice enough. We exchanged information and went our separate ways. I called my sister back and we laughed at my crappy ride home. She suggested I go straight home and get in bed, lest more bad luck befall me. I didn't heed her advice, though ---I needed to stop at the grocery store, where, thankfully, nothing bad occurred.

My plan, once at home, was to relax. I had intended to call Mara at some point, but I figured I'd call her today, when, hopefully, my spirits would be higher. She ended up calling me, though, and I met up with her at Mr. Crepes in Davis Sq. I effing love their crepes, but, alas, I had already eaten, so I watched Mara eat, instead.

Afterwards, we went back to her place and hung out for a while. Around ten thirty, I made it back home and watched some of the Office (UK), marveling once again at the genius of the show.
--

Tonight I plan on watching Little Children and maybe working on a song or two. And, if you'll not be needing me for anything else this evening, I'd like to excuse myself and see to other, more pressing, matters.

Monday, October 20, 2008

You said go slow, I fall behind, the second hand unwinds

Luke Warm spent most of the weekend at our house --- he was recording with Craig --- and, consequently, I got to hang out with him more than usual. When they weren't recording, Luke and I played basketball on my Playstation (something I hadn't done in months) and gossiped about The Hills (he looovvvveeeesss that show).

As for what Luke recorded, I haven't heard much yet, save for some pastoral guitar parts, duck-like calls (!), and some Dwight Shrute-esque recorder melodies bleeding through the wall that separates Craig's and my bedroom. Whatever the finished product turns out to be, it most certainly won't be worthy of being labeled typical.

Rich stayed home from work today. I had a feeling he was going to, based on the negative comments he was making about his job last night while we were watching the Red Sox. He takes off a lot of Mondays. I'm surprised he hasn't been spoken to about that. Who knows, maybe he has.

Speaking of Rich, I've come to realize that he's all about bleach. Yes, you read that correctly, he loves him some bleach. He's always spraying it in the bathroom, but the funny thing is, the bathroom never looks any cleaner. I have no idea where or why he's spraying it. Craig guessed that maybe he's spraying down the shower curtain. Good guess, but I'm not so sure; today I entered the bathroom after him and the odor of bleach was strong. He hadn't exited the bathroom more than two minutes before I went in there. I inspected the shower curtain. It was bone dry.

I sniffed around the bathroom, careful not to poke my nose to close to the toilet in the process, and I came up empty. The bathroom was as unkempt as it was before he went in there. The only explanation I could come up with, and it's one I've thought of before, is that either before or after he uses the toilet, he bleaches it. It's also possible he does it both before and after, but the general idea is that he does it. For all I know, he's bleaching everything he's going to touch --- the doorknob, the toilet, the flush mechanism, the sink, etc. Maybe he's germphobic.

Anyway, he likes the bleach and perhaps feels more secure with it around. I know that he keeps it in his room, because earlier, when I smelled the bleach in the bathroom, he had left the bottle behind. When I used the bathroom later on, it was gone. Curious, I checked around the house for it; it was nowhere to be seen. I did, however, discover another bottle of bleach by the back door, one I hadn't seen before.

The way it seems right now is that he's got at least two bottles going and he's keeping them in his room (the second bottle was gone when I walked by it's location earlier this evening. I checked under the sink and in the bathroom but came up empty). Why this is the case is beyond me, but it's a head scratcher, it is.

So I don't know what's up with the bleach situation. I probably won't ever get around to asking him about it --- I get the sense it would make him and, to a degree, me uncomfortable --- but of course I'd like to know what the scoop is. The thing I find the most perplexing about this matter is that Rich is anything but a neat freak. He's not a disgusting slob, but he's not that far removed from being one. So why all the bleach? I don't know and I'm done trying to figure it out right now because it's ABSURD. The whole fucking thing is absurd and it's time to put that baby in the crib and move on to something else.

I watched Mongol today and it was a little disappointing. I was expecting a huge epic recounting the life of Genghis Khan, but what I got was a pretty boring movie. Sure, there was tons of bloodshed and adventure---who wouldn't like that ? --- but it got old fast. Basically, the entire movie involved him escaping from a place, getting caught, escaping again, getting caught again, ad nauseum. I actually fell asleep during the battle that took up a good chunk of the third act. That should not have happened. Anyway, I give the film a C minus, overall. As a sleep aid, I give it a B+.

Okay, I've got some laundry and other sexy stuff to attend to, so ciao, bitches.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Hope for me, I hope for you, we're snow drops falling through the night

After work, Spira came over and we went to Yoshi's for some Black Dragon and whatever else caught our fancy (avocado maki, fried tofu, and miso soup, in case you were wondering). Once the check came, one of the waiters kept coming by every two minutes to collect it. I eventually had to tell him to give us a little space. Don't worry, Yoshi's, we still love you.

From Yoshi's we went to Starbucks in Davis Sq for some coffee. We had some good conversations that ranged in topic from LARPING to dealing with aggressive drivers. She's still recovering from a week-long illness, so we parted ways relatively early. And it wasn't just her that was ready to retire---I've been a sleepy lad all day and visions of laying in bed with a book danced like sugar plums in my head. Alas, I just saw that the C's were on, so I may be putting off the book for a little while.

Not sure if I'll watch one of them tonight, but I just got a couple of movies from Netflix--- Little Children and Mongol --- and I'm eager to watch them. Maybe not tonight, my eyes are watering and I'm yawing freely. Oh, that's right --- last night's episode of The Office should be online!!

Seacrest out, bitches!!!

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

That is why I pack my 25, where nobody knows, right above my boot

Within the last few months my email has been inundated with spam. Gone are the days when I feel the slight rush of seeing that I have several new messages when I check my email. Now, it's almost all spam and nothing of a personal nature. Rather than get depressed over this fact, I've decided to embrace it. Let's see what this spam is all about, I say. Why is the first impulse to disregard and delete it?

For example, I was recently sent one from jeffrey jacqueline. The subject line was "Fantasy between her folds". Ordinarily, I'd delete the fuck out of that email, but when I thought about it, I realized I'd be crazy not to investigate this fantasy. I haven't entered the body of the message yet, but you better believe I'll be all over it once I'm done here.

Another one I received tickled my imagination and got the ol' blood pumping like you wouldn't believe. The heading was "Ocean dips in Britneys bra and panties, exposing her nipples and late night romp with a college guy". This isn't someone trying to get me to buy something. No, this is the news, son! And it's being delivered old school, grass-roots style. People need to be informed, to be told what's really going on in the world. I think I may write zelkity zicks back and thank him/her for the info. Fuck the economy, Britney's nipples have been exposed! More at eleven.

I had many moments alone with Ann at work yesterday and I didn't speak to her as much as I probably could have, but we weren't at a bar or a dinner party, so I'm not going to beat myself up over missed opportunities. When I did talk with her, I wasn't on my game. Several times, as words were pouring out of my mouth, I wondered who was feeding me these shitty lines. I was as perplexed at what I was saying as Ann must have been. It wasn't until the end of the day when I recovered and had a good conversation with her. Overall, it wasn't so bad. My grade: B-.

As the Rays were schooling the Red Sox last night, I had the Celtics/Cavs game on. Sure, it's still preseason, but what a game! These guys met in the Eastern Conference finals last year and their meeting last night felt like a playoff game. The C's emerged victorious and I can't wait for the regular season to begin.

So far, this season of The Office has been very good. Last season had its moments but it wasn't as good as previous seasons. It got a little too broad a little too often. Still, it was great stuff, especially when held up to other so-called comedies on television.

I watched Hitman the other night and it kind of sucked. The only reason I watched it was because Roger Ebert gave it a favorable review and it starred Timothy Olyphant from Deadwood, one of the greatest shows ever. He was just about the only thing worth watching in the film.

Had one of the best runs I've ever had last night. Thought it was going to be grueling because I had taken a few days off, but I had a ton of energy and drive. Apparently, the layoff was a good thing. Let's see how I feel when I go at it again tomorrow night.

Monday, October 13, 2008

I wake up and wipe the sleep from my eyes, and I rise, and face another day without her

Camping was great, though it could have had a better beginning and end as far as I'm concerned. I got out of the house a little after eleven on Saturday and hopped on 93 towards Luke Warm's house, which I still not been to, in Canterbury, NH. Luke had said that the trip would take me about an hour. It seemed to me that it would take longer, considering Canterbury was north of Concord, but Luke assured me that it's pretty much a straight shot up the highway and, after having travelled back and forth on that route several times, he was confident of his estimation.

Well, it did take me an hour to arrive. Plus an additional two and a half. There was a massive amount of traffic that started just outside the city and continued pretty much all the way up to Luke Warm's house. When I spoke with my father the day before, he wondered if I'd hit a ton of traffic because of the leaf-peepers. I figured I'd get some, but that at least it'd be moving steadily. Little did I realize that I was going to face the worst traffic I've ever encountered in my entire life. I am not exaggerating, though I wish I was.

I kept a positive disposition for most of the trip to Luke's house, though after a while I was starting to get a little antsy. When I finally reached my destination, I felt drained, like I had just travelled cross-country. I realized that the time it took me to get to Luke's was more or less the same amount it would have taken me to get to camp in Vermont.

Before we left town, we stopped to get some groceries and went to Panera for some lunch. The ride to Vermont was gorgeous--- foliage was in full bloom and vivid--- and we made it to camp around five thirty. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly given the ideal weather, many of the sites were occupied. We found one off one of the side roads that was isolated, large, and open to the sky.

Before deciding on the spot, Luke wanted to investigate another site he thought was available. On our way to it, we passed a car and Luke remarked "Wouldn't that be something if they took our spot?". I didn't think it was very likely; the spot was a little off the beaten path and even if they eventually found it, we would be back before they did.

When we got to the site Luke wanted to investigate, we saw that it was taken. We drove back to the previous site, realizing that, aside from one that was right on the main drag, it was the only one left. We were running out of day light and needed to set up camp soon.

We cursed our luck when we saw the car we passed at the foot of the driveway to the site we had just left. I asked the woman who was standing near it if they were going to be camping there. "No", she responded, "just taking a pee break". Aside from the fact that we'd probably be trudging through her piss, we were relieved (as I'm sure she was at that moment. Wink, wink) that fortune had favored us in this instance.

As I was setting it up, I quickly discovered my tent was F.U.B.A.R. If I had more time, I probably could have figured out what the problem was, but it was almost dark and we still needed to get some wood, so I abandoned the restoration project before me and determined I'd have to sleep in Luke's tent. I was glad I'd brought my Ipod; I would be needing it to combat Luke Warm's nefarious snoring.

Once his tent was up, we decided to drive into town and buy some wood at the grocery store and gather some kindling on the way. The plan was a success --- we found a good amount of kindling and the store, thank God, had some wood. On our way back, we almost hit a doe crossing the road. It always puzzles me why anyone would want to kill such a graceful animal for sport.

Back at camp, we built a nice fire and prepared a delicious vegetable and tofu stir fry. We had wine and smoke afterward and relaxed. Throughout the night, we heard plaintive clall-and-response howling in the distance. It sounded to me like Coyote, but a part of me was thinking Sasquatch ( when I got home I checked the BFRO website for sightings in the area. There were a few and one in particular was from a couple of years ago not very far from our location). I think it was Coyote, though. Eerie, but fascinating, those calls.

Yesterday, we hung around camp for awhile before packing up the car. We planned on finding a place where we could hike, but first wanted to go further up the road we were on to see the magnificent view of the valley. When we reached the end of the road, there was no view, only a dead end surrounded by forest. We thought we were on the road that provided the view, but obviously we were not.

Luke Warm spied a trail marker about twenty feet into the woods. We investigated and discovered it was a state trail, wide and well tended. We looked at each other and said why not.
The trail was beautiful. Here and there were finely constructed wood bridges that crossed over streams. It was a great little hike. The leaves were crisp and falling delicately all around us and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. We couldn't believe we'd never found this trail after all the years we'd been camping up there.

The hike took us about an hour and a half and we headed home upon its completion. The ride back, like the ride up, was a visual treat. For years I'd wanted to go camping at this time of year for precisely this reason. Of course, when I left Luke's house, I encountered traffic again. It wasn't as bad as on the way up, though; this time it only took me two hours to get home. Still, I was beginning to rethink my views on population control.

When I made it back to the city, my head was pounding. I'd woken up with a low-grade headache, but it was manageable for most of the day. After facing that helllish traffic again, it couldn't help but become more severe. I felt better after I took some aspirin, ate, and showered.

Overall, the fucking hellish traffic notwithstanding, the trip was more than worth it. I'm glad we went. And, to everyone who balked at camping this time of year because it would be too cold: Yes, it was a little chilly late at night, but not uncomfortably so. So, yeah, you missed out, bitches.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

So if you want a do right, all day woman, you've got to be a do right, all night man

Another morning dream. This one was all about Ann. It began at work. We were all ready to go home for the day and Jeff asked for some of us to drop off some food at a wedding that was taking place. The place was in walking distance, so we all left our cars behind. I walked alongside Ann and a few times she leaned against me. I took that to be a good sign.

When we arrived at the wedding, or to be more accurate, the reception, I discovered that Anne's cousin was the one who got married. Everyone we came with dropped off the food and left, but I remained with Ann. We went upstairs where the party was in full effect and came upon a rowdy scene.

It was pretty crowded up there---looked like we were in a loft --- and we took a seat at one of the tables near the back. I was thrilled to be there with Ann. She made a comment about finally being able to see me outside of work and there was another good sign.

At one point, a guy approached Ann. He was obviously drunk and very handsome. It appeared that they had something going at some point and he was trying to rekindle the relationship, at least the sexual part. She pushed him away when he started getting obnoxious. I considered telling him to buzz off, but he left before I could.

Things were getting pretty rowdy and we attempted to make our way downstairs, but had to wait for some college frat boys to cease moshing in front of us before we could leave. On our way downstairs, I spotted Sean Toohey coming up the stairs. He was wearing the most outrageous pink suit.

We greeted each other and he followed Anne and I downstairs. After I introduced them and we caught up a little, he made his way back upstairs. That was when I found myself locked in an embrace with Ann. I felt exultant at knowing for sure that she was into me. No more doubts, no more pulling the hair out of my head.

And then, like with all dreams, I woke up. It took me a bit to understand that, even though what had transpired was vivid and great, it didn't really happen, at least not on this plain of existence. Oh, well, I'm still glad I had it, which is why I'm recounting it here. The problem is, now that I had a vivid, intimate dream about her, I'll probably find myself pining for her even more.

Sometimes I think I'd be better swearing off all women who aren't very obviously into me. It would save me some turmoil, I think. Especially given my track record. But who knows, maybe something could happen between us.

Post Script: I deserved this dream because earlier in the night I had a terrible one in which I, along with a few other people, were running around outside my parent's house late at night, hiding from the devil and his minions.

Friday, October 10, 2008

The country ain't what it used to be, but I'd hate to see it go

Got a call from my dad on my way home from work. He had bad news: My uncle Stan had just passed away. He wanted to tell me before I left for Vermont. We all knew it was going to happen, but the fact that it happened this soon after he was diagnosed with Lou Gerhig's disease, indicates that he must have been pretty well into it. I just saw him a couple of weeks ago, too. Despite the mourning that accompanies death in our culture, his suffering has come to an end and that is a good thing. Wish you well on the other side, uncle Stan.

So it's just me and Luke Warm on this camping trip. Going into it, I knew it was going to be a small crew, but I didn't envision it being this small. Not a terrible thing, though --- the weather looks to be ideal and Luke Warm and I will have the chance to catch up on things after not having seen each other in a while.

It's too bad Mike, Spira, and Sean won't be going, but frankly, these days it's nigh impossible to get anyone together for any reason. Just the way things go, I guess. But I'm not going to be glum. No, I'm looking forward to heading up to beautiful Vermont and having a good time. And hey, there's still time if you want to go. Yeah, I'm talking directly to you. Allow yourself to get away from the stresses of life for a night, just one night. Fuck the excuses ---let's go!!!
--

The last two mornings I've woken up at almost the exact same time after having almost the exact same dream. There must be some significance to that. I won't go into detail, especially because to do so would reveal an aspect of my life I'd rather not telegraph, but I will say in both dreams I had a different girlfriend and each was especially devoted to me. The first one was from Brazil and the second was one of the hot managers that works at Shaws. One of the dreams had me throwing a back pack that contained the few remaining possessions I had left in the world into a lake and then changing my mind an hour later and retrieving it. The second dream ended at Mike's house with a bunch of singing AC/DC's "Beating Around The Bush" at Heath as we crowded him against the wall. I spent the bulk of the last two days wishing I could crawl back into those dreams.
--
A little past midnight last night I heard what sounded like a woman laughing outside my window. I figured it was someone walking past the house. When I heard it again a few minutes later, I peeked out the window. I didn't see anyone, but I did discover that it wasn't laughter I was hearing, but someone crying.

When I heard it again a minute or two later, I was determined to find out where the crying was emanating from. When I looked out the window at the house adjacent to mine, I saw a woman in the window with her head in her hands. Her bed must be against the wall where the window is, because she was sitting with her hands on her knees. And she was weeping really, really, noisily.

A guy, most likely her boyfriend, sat on the bed with her. Ok, a lover's quarrel. They commenced to arguing for at least the next hour. Well, it was mostly her, from what I could gather. She was getting in his face a lot; a few times it looked like she was going to hit him.

Was I invading their privacy listening in on some of their fight and did I feel guilty, maybe even a little perverse as a result? No fucking way! First of all, if you're going to be having a full blown fight in front of an open window after midnight on a week night, your rights to privacy have been forfeited. I only saw some of the fight, and had to put my I-pod on when I went to sleep because they were still going when I crawled into bed. I kind of wanted to see it through, see how it ended --- not well, by the looks of it --- but I was tired and could tell by the tone of the argument that tempers would remain at a steady boil for a while longer as they rehashed the same talking points ad infitum. (As for what they were arguing about, it seemed to me the guy remarked at some point in the evening that he wished she had confided in him about something she had confided in someone else about. She took issue with the remark and thus began the fight)

At first, I really felt for the guy. She was pretty abusive and, though she spoke like she had recently read a book on relationship skills --- It can't be "me", it has to be "we"--- her condescending manner left no room for dialog. And him? Well, he mostly just sat there and took his lumps and didn't offer much, other than occassionaly whining "Ok, you're right, I'm an asshole".

Stand up for yourself, son! Jesus! I was starting to side with her more and more once I saw how spineless and noncommital he was about every point she made. Anyway, what started out being kind of interesting, voyeuristically listening in on an argument, quickly grew tiresome. I realized if I want the good stuff, I should start watching The Hills.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I was naked and masturbating the entire time. Just kidding --- I wasn't naked.
--

I've got to get my head around this Ann situation. Is there something to it? Why do I find myself thinking about her so much? Is it only because I see her on a daily basis? All I know is yes, there is probably something to it, but to what extent is beyond my ken. I mean, there's a lot to like about her: she's pretty, kind, funny, and a little quirky. And, my ability to withhold thoughts of her when she's not present and curb my stammering awkwardness when she is nonexistent. Ah, my head is dizzy even writing about this. I'm moving on to something else.

And that something else is laundry and some light packing for tomorrow. I'll check back in when I get home.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Harry

It's impossible not to have a crush on his voice; the damn thing is built like a brick shit house.

And in the world a heart of darkness, a fire zone, where poets speak their heart, then bleed for it

I went out to my car during break to do some reading and just as I was firmly implanted in Watchmen, a yellow jacket flew in the car and wreaked havoc. I nearly spilled the yogurt I was eating all over myself as I stumbled out of the car. Once outside I checked to see if the bee had flown out. It was nowhere to be seen, which didn't fill me with confidence. All I needed was for the damn thing to come out of hiding later on as I hauled ass on 93 crankin' some Smash Mouth and cause me to crash my car. I got back in my car thinking about that damn bee and it wasn't too long before I saw that it was perched on my the wrist of my shirt. So, again I stumbled out of the car like a drunken spaz. Fortunately, there were a few people nearby to witness the event.

Realizing I needed gas, I drove over to the place where I recently got my car fixed. When I pulled up to the pump, Sam came over and said hi and handed me a piece of paper that had at one time had a sticker affixed to it. He mumbled something about keeping it on my car and walked away. When I arrived back at work, I tried to figure out what had transpired back at the gas station. Put what on my car? There was no sticker on the paper he gave me, only the outline of where it once was. It was then that I realized something and swiveled around to see a big, fat Gulf sticker on my rear windshield. The fuck had put it on without telling me. I got out of the car and peeled the sticker off my windshield, feeling a little violated. I felt like going back to gas station and telling Sam where he could put the sticker, but I didn't have the energy. So, with the remaining minutes I had left on my break, I read a nice selection about owls in Watchmen.

I've come to the conclusion that I have no idea whether Anne would be receptive to the idea of me asking her out. I mean, it's 50/50 all the way, with little or no variation. I know she's single and that lately her social life has been virtually nonexistent. Maybe she's at the point where she'd lower her standards considerably and date me (oh, just joshing. I should have added a LOL there). She's a few inches taller than me, too, which wouldn't bother me very much, but may be an issue for her. And would an inter-office romance be tolerated by the powers that be? Don't know, and maybe will never find out. Not sure if I'll pursue this matter at this point. It's 50/50 all the way.

Feeling a thin film of darkness over every thing in my life. I'm still able to function and find happiness here and there, but the feeling is palpable. Well, these are dark days, aren't they? I wonder how the citizens of Rome felt on the eve of its collapse. I tell you what I'm going to do --- I'm going to be a beacon of light, damn it, and my actions will be a big fuck you to the Man. Well, alright then.

Monday, October 6, 2008

The sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful, and so are you

Some A&R company just contacted me on MySpace about including some of my music in an Independent film. The rep. left all his contact info and wants me to call him. For all I know, this could either be a ridiculous scam or something completely on the level. Not easy to tell. I'll do a little investigating before I decide whether I'll respond. I'm pretty sure I'll be the next Johnny Bravo as a result of this, but I don't want to get too excited until it actually happens.

Mara stopped over today. She was in the neighborhood, saw my car in the driveway, and decided to come over and say hello. I hadn't seen her in a while and welcomed the visit, even though I was in deep in a book at the time. I have to be careful in this time of post-break-up; it's evident that she would like to for us to be a couple again and that there is a chance it will happen. It's a balancing act, the way I need to conduct myself when around her, but it hasn't been easy. While I'm certain we should stay broken up, there is a part of me that misses having a girlfriend and there have been instances when I've let down my guard a bit. I'll leave it at that. Overall, though, I think I've done a good job making my intentions clear.

My morning run notwithstanding, I wasn't very active today. I spent the bulk of the day reading in bed. Hey, sometimes that's what you need to do. I suggest you do it tomorrow. Doctor's orders.

Depending on the weather, it looks like we'll be going camping this weekend. It should be gorgeous up in Vermont. I haven't been up there in over a year.

Watched Darkon, a documentary about roleplaying gamers, the other night. Specifically, Darkon is the name of the world and these people are it's inhabitants. The roleplaying is an offshoot of Dungeons & Dragons, and several times a month the gamers put on their medieval garb, drive out to some large swath of land, whether it be a football field or a farm, and conduct mock battles. There's an elaborate set of rules that goes with the game, rules that have been modified over the course of it's twenty-plus years of existence. I checked them out on the group's website because the film doesn't focus on them too much.

Definitely a worthwhile viewing experience. While I read from the genre, I've never been drawn to fantasy roleplaying. Not that I think it's a bad idea---hell, if I thought I could have gotten into it, I would have done so wholeheartedly, though it would have branded me an absolute dork for life. I guess, especially as I've gotten older, the willing suspension of disbelief required for such a game, is something I don't have enough of. Or maybe I do, but would rather focus it elsewhere. Anyway, my point is that I enjoyed the film.

And speaking of films, I'm off to watch American Gangster.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

She don't know why, don't know why, dog and butterfly

Had a dream last night in which I was having a sexually good time with my coworker Laurie. You may recall that Laurie, out of everyone I work with, was the only one who seemed not to like me very much. And you may also recall that I reported last week that it looked like she wasn't going to be returning to work, thus relieving me of any future encounters with her that border on uncomfortable. Well, turns out she's still at work, though she'll be leaving shortly to have her baby.

So, back to the dream. Why was I having sex with someone I'm not terribly attracted to and who I think doesn't like me very much? Pyschoanalytically speaking, I'm sure there are more than a few reasons, but I'm pretty sure, in this instance, it has more to do with the fact that she's been quite civil, even conversational, with me of late. I don't know what sparked this development, but I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ann, Therese, Laurie, and I stayed a couple of hours late yesterday in order to finish up a big project, the details of which I'll not bore you with, and after working in such close quarters with them all day, I was bound to have a sex dream with at least one of them in it. Know what I'm saying? I didn't think so. Anyhow, the gist is as follows: Laurie seems to like me now; she is still at the job; I worked late yesterday; had sex with Laurie in a dream later that night.
--
My Everly Brothers cd's arrived in the mail this week. Two Yanks In England came earlier in the week and Roots, came today. Both are very good and don't sound much alike. TYIE is comprised mostly of Hollies songs and has a British Invasion feel, while Roots is more country. I guess, based on these purchases, you could say I'm a little bit country and a little bit rock n' roll. Ha ha ha!! Man, I'm hilarious.

It seems, more and more, I end up having to order music online because most of albums I look for are not found in stores. It wouldn't be this way if my tastes veered closer to Clay Aiken (he's what????) or Beyonce. Oh, well. I ordered Great Speckled Bird's self titled debut album today because there was no way I was going to find that one in stores. Great Speckled Bird was a band formed by Ian and Sylvia, a famous folk duo out of Canada in the late sixties. The music took on a country rock bent and the band kills on that album. I can't wait for it to arrive.
--

I'm trying to keep positive about the clusterfuck our country is now in, but it's not easy. I keep reading different theories about what's in store for us, all of it bad, and it looks like only a miracle will save us at this point. And the fact that a division of troops has recently been recalled from Iraq to curb civil unrest, if needed, is not an encouraging development. Ah, I think we're seeing the collapse of a civilization, though, obviously, I'd like to think otherwise. Reassurance that things will turn out alright has not been easy to find. And I've been looking pretty hard.
--

Played Spira some mixes of the songs I've been recording with Craig. On her system they didn't sound very good . She commented that the vocals, especially, sounded pretty murky, and asked if we recorded with a condenser mic. I told her we didn't and she said "Well, why didn't you ask me? I have one I've never used." She took me in her room and showed it to me. I was puzzled at why she didn't tell me about this before. I'm pretty sure I told her the mics we were using at the onset of recording, but oh well, whatever. She let me borrow the mic for subsequent recording which, I'm pretty damned happy about.

Earlier that night, we went for a run that felt good for the both of us. It's good having a running partner, though it took me a bit to get used to having a conversation in the act of doing it. Next up is practicing yoga on a regular basis. And this time I'm serious --- I'm getting back into it. And I will meditate again.