Eyes wide open, naked as we came

Matt Stone, on Bill Simmon's podcast, made me break out in applause. He was talking about how needy Harley riders are. He opined that their bikes are so eardrum-pulverizingly loud because they want everyone to look at them. They may as well wear neon signs around their necks that flash " HEY EVERYONE, LOOK AT ME. PLEASE!", he said. Couldn't agree more. And then he wondered how many conversations and thoughts a Harley disrupts driving down the streets of New York City. Thousands, he figured. In the span of seconds. All because of some needy ass hole.

I suppose we're all needy in our own ways, to varying degrees, and, no, I don't believe all Harley riders on their their noise machines are needy -- only about 98%, I figure -- but I thought that was an astute observation by Mr. Stone. I wonder how many other people find Harleys oppressingly loud. I know there are different models, and some are more loud than other, but in my experience at least, most of them are pretty fucking loud.

Someone told me they make them that way as a safety precaution; if the bike is loud, people, drivers and pedestrians alike, will be aware of its presence and, consequently, accidents will be less likely to occur. I'm not sure I'm entirely on board with that notion, true or not. For one thing, they're so fucking loud that they're probably more likely to cause an accident than prevent one. For the latter to occur, one must have his bearings about him (or her bearings about her -- let's not be sexist). There's a reason why people listen to soft, pleasant music and not the beastly roar of a Harley when they want to relax.

Stone said they're making a South Park episode about the topic, and he's actually kind of nervous he'll offend some Hell's Angel and get beat eight ways to Sunday. In the interest of preserving my own skin, though I find it extremely unlikely members of the Hell's Angels read this blog, I'll state for the record that, despite my having my world tossed around like a seal at the mercy of a pod of Killer Whales, every time a Harley rides within a two mile radius of where I am, I think they'd be pretty cool to ride. Well, at least the less noisy ones.

Oh, and about those Killer Whales.

Top Facts about Killer Whales

1. Killer Whales are one of the fastest creatures in the sea, traveling up to 30 miles per hour.
   
2. Killer Whales are able to control the flow of blood to their hearts and brains, which keeps them from suffering from a lack of oxygen when they are deep underwater.
   
3. killer Whales eat up to 5% of their body weight each day. This averages out to over 500 pounds of food for each Orca.
   
4. Killer Whales do most of their socialization within their own pods. However, pods do socialize with other pods as well.
   
5. When breeding, Killer Whales do not breed with relatives. They only breed with killer whales that are not closely related to them within their own pods.

I'd say no.'s 1 and 3 are where me and Killer Whales are most alike.
--

More Herzog tonight? Maybe. I watched The Enigma Of Kaspar Hauser with her last night. She fell asleep through it but professed to enjoy the bits she saw. I didn't tell her it was sacrilege falling asleep through a Herzog film, but my murderous eyes and quivering lip said as much, I'm sure. So, maybe I'll watch a film of his tonight.

Maybe I'll shower. I still feel loose from the yoga I did earlier in the day; maybe a soak will make me even looser. Too bad I don't Twitter, or tweet, as it were. Otherwise, I'd let you know from the shower how it was going. You know, so you wouldn't have to wait any longer than necessary to hear the results.

I've got a feeling, a feeling I can't hide

One thing gets fixed, another goes faulty. It's the way it is sometimes. With the guidance from Mike, I was able to rid my computer of the spyware that had hijacked it. I've learned my lessons from watching horror movies, though, and am not quite ready to slip into the comfort of believing the monster is really gone. Still, I'm thrilled at the absence of pop-ups and the little pucker sound that seemed to emit from nowhere every thirty seconds. And, I'm thrilled I didn't have to shell out a bunch of bills for some anti-spyware software like I thought I was going to have to do. Thanks, Mike!

So, the spyware is gone and, completing the thought I began the post with, some other pain in the ass issue crops up in its place. And that issue is my Netflix account, or more particularly, the credit card I'd been using to pay for it. I just received notification from Netflix that it couldn't access my credit card. Hmm, I thought, I know I've got credit, what's this all about? After some investigating, I discovered my account had been canceled. Not because of lack of payment or anything I did, but because "the program" had ended. I hadn't been aware I was on a program. Guess I should of read the fine print in my contract. A new program will begin in October, I learned, at which time I will be issued a new card. Man, I really should have read the fine print.

I have another card I could use for Netflix, but that one has its own issues that need to be cleared up before I do. What a drag! I was just getting into watching Dexter on Instant Watch. Oh, well, things could be worse. Like my car, for example. Best not to even go there, lest I give myself a headache.
-
Last weekend, I was taking a walk with Janelle and she commented that Rich was up to his old tricks again. I didn't know what she was talking about. "Oh, I thought you heard him last night. You had come home and were playing your guitar and I heard Rich at the bottom of the stairs yell "Quiet!!".

I had thought I was past this nonsense with Rich. Like always, I would have been happy to stop playing if he had knocked on my door or called me on my cell and asked me to. It's the yelling I can't abide; I've told him that before and he had professed to agree. It was not my intention to keep anyone up and, though I was trying to play softly, I can't always tell how the sound will travel. This yelling business was uncalled for and I wondered if drastic measures were going to have to be taken.

I was pissed and determined I absolutely had to talk to him about the incident immediately. A week or more leading up to it, he had been wholly unapproachable, he stayed hidden in his room and avoided contact with his roommates as much as possible. He's a study in avoidance. However it played out, I had to talk to him, no matter how isolated he had made himself.

When we got back to the house, I knocked on Rich's door. My anger had abated to the point where I wanted the confrontation to be civil, with an outcome agreeable to each of us. I hoped for the best as he opened his door.

I began by telling him I was sorry if I had kept him up the night before, that, even though I thought he was still up because it was a weekend night, I tried playing softly.

"Oh, you didn't keep me up. I slept through the night", he said.

"Well, I heard you yelled up the stairs for me to be quiet."

He squirmed a little. "Uh, well, yeah, uh maybe I did. I must have been half-asleep when I did it."

Oh, please.

"Well, if it happens again that I'm being too loud, could you just call me or knock on my door? I'd appreciate that. I don't respond very well to being yelled at."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I should get a grip on those outbursts. No problem. I'll call you or knock on your door, like you said."

The tone of the conversation was light, despite what was being said, and at the end of it, I felt really good. I had asserted myself, said what needed to be said, without making matters worse. I think Rich appreciated that. I told him again it's never my intention to keep anyone up and if I do, I will take measures to be quiet.

Who knows if he'll have another outburst -- the odds suggest he will -- but for now, I'm happy we worked things out diplomatically.
--
I smell a Werner Herzog marathon coming. It's about time; the man just has a way about expressing the inexpressible that scratches me where I itch.

Enough of me. I'm off to enjoy the day.

Jumping up, falling down, don't misunderstand me

For whatever reason, I haven't been able to access this site, or, to be more particular, my blog, over the last several days. I thought it had to do with some spyware that hijacked my computer around the same time, but Janelle, on her Mac, was having the same problem. Neither of us could access our Hotmail or Google accounts. Weird. Anyway, just like that, we've regained access. We've wondered why we haven't heard about others who've experienced the same issue. Hmmm.

Anyway, I know you've missed me terribly and your life has become unstructured as a result of my absence. For that I apologize, but, as I explained, it was beyond my control. I've got a little bit of catching up to do, but not tonight. It's getting late and I'm pretty beat. Luke Warm and I just finished practicing and I'm dying to get back to Abraham's An Autumn War, which I just started reading the other day. This is the penultimate book in the quartet and so far it's really good and, if the reviews are any indication, looks to be a lot more epic in scope than the two books that preceded it.

Tomorrow is Friday and I'm glad. I have no plans yet, but I'm sure some will take shape. Ciao!

You grabbed my hand and we fell into it, like a day dream, or a fever

Could have used another hour of sleep this morning -- went to bed pretty late last night -- but Steve, my neighbor who likes to make a lot of noise outside when people are trying to sleep, made a lot of noise outside while I was trying to sleep. He woke me up with a loud spraying sound. It took me several seconds to get my bearings and figure out where the WHSSSSSHHHHH WHSSSSHHHHH was coming from. Fucking prick -- I was having a good dream, too.

Real quick, especially because it's old news at this point, I'll wrap up the post wherein I made a solemn promise to describe my visits with my parents and Luke Warm the other day. I'm sure you've been all squirmy in anticipation.

My parent's house. I made a surprise visit and they seemed pleased to see me. Probably as pleased as I was to see them. It had been a while since we last saw each other. My intention was to make it a quick visit because Luke Warm and I were going to have dinner before we practiced, but it wasn't meant to be.

My mom had lots of computer questions, so we trekked upstairs and I addressed them. As I showed her different applications on the computer, I noticed her disposition regarding it had changed considerably from the agitated and confused one she had previously worn. Now, she was eager to learn and smiled throughout the whole tutorial. Part of that, I think, had to do with having her son in the room with her ( often, out of the corner of my eye, I'd catch her looking at me lovingly), but another, and greater, part, had to do with her having reached a level of comfort with the computer. I showed her YouTube and Hulu; she adored the sites immediately. Progress.

I was happy to help out. I realized that I'm much more resourceful when I'm helping them out on their computer, than I am trying to figure stuff out on my own. Probably because I need to be when I'm helping them out, otherwise, because they're neophytes, their concerns won't get addressed. I'm all they've got in that department. Well, that's not entirely true -- my mom's coworkers have been offering guidance -- but you get the idea.

After fooling around on Hulu for a bit, I saw that it was getting late. Better leave. We went downstairs and, as I was saying my goodbyes, I saw that my dad had the TV stand pulled away from the wall, cables unplugged from their devices and pointing everywhere, looking like a post-modern Medusa.

He didn't say anything about it, but my mom did. She looked at him and said, "Oh, you wanted Kevin to help you with the TV", and then, to me, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all", I replied sincerely.

I won't get into what needed to be done over at the TV because it's pretty convoluted. I helped as best I could; time will tell whether I was successful. I think my parents, like many others of their generation, long for the days of simpler technology, when the only thing you really needed to fiddle with on the TV was the rabbit ears.

I made it to Luke Warms late, but not too late. He made me a delicious rice-based meal and then we got about the business of rehearsing. Presently, Luke Warm is staying with his dad and being at the house was like being in a time warp. Since high school, it was where our friends used to congregate. Luke Warm's dad let our bands rehearse in the basement. Ahh, the good old days.

I say it was like being in a time warp because the house, if it has been changed in any way, it has been only slightly. As Luke Warm and I played in the living room, I'd occasionally find myself reminiscing about the past, about the good times we had there. Long ago, but right at the fingertips, too. Strange, time --does it even exist? Whatever it's nature, Wolf had it right: you can't go home again.
--
Saw Life As A House with Mara the other night. Pretty good, but uneven. Kind of like a made for TV movie, but slightly edgier. Good cast: Kevin Kline, Kristen Scott Thomas, Jenna Malone, Scott Bakula, Haydn Christianson, Mary Steenbergen (who had a nice little nude scene and, damn, woman!--age hasn't had it's way with you yet).

Also got to watch the season premier of The Office yesterday. Laughed my ass off. Hope the rest of the season goes as well.

Some time today I plan on watching Knowing, a film I've been eager to see ever since it came out. Looking forward to it.

Almost through with Abraham's A Betrayal In Winter. I might pick up the next installment tomorrow. I've really been enjoying his writing. Might take a little break, though, and give some love to The Pillars Of The Earth, a book I haven't read from in a couple of weeks.

Yoga today? We'll see. I'd like to, but it may not be feasible. It's a good day for it. Sundays and yoga are a great pairing.

Ok, now Steve is painting the side of his house and is blasting talk radio. Am I going to have to choke a bitch?

Stay tuned.

Only kisses on the cheek from now on, and in a little while, we'll only have to wave

Even the strongest bonds, no matter how long they held true, can crumble into dust. Finding that out more and more.

Such is life.

Love me like a bomb, baby, come on get it on

My day had a melancholic note to it. Nothing really to do the day itself -- actually went fine -- but more, I suspect with the dreams that haunted me last night. Most I don't remember, but the one that woke me up this morning was actually kind of cruel. In it, Mandy, the dog of my youth, came up to me with her tail wagging. I crouched down and held her and told her I was so happy that she was alive. For some reason, I had thought she had died, but obviously that wasn't true. Yes, she was looking long in the tooth, but she was still alive. I held her tightly, afraid that if I loosened my grip, she would disappear. And then I woke up. Guess I didn't hold on tight enough.

One of the Paralegals at one of the law firms I deal with on a daily basis was quite a bit more friendly with me today than she usually is. I've only ever corresponded with her through emails and the occasional phone call, but I do know what she looks like and she is cute, to be sure. Anyway, the tone of our emails is usually friendly. Emails are tough with someone you've never met, especially when they're work related. Well, maybe not especially-- perhaps they're easier because you can keep it strictly business and not have to worry about things like sarcasm, always dicey in emails, being misinterpreted. I digress, but you get the idea.

Today, when I sent her an email concerning a mistake I noticed on one of the docs she had sent over, she replied with this: "Oh, I didn't notice that. Thanks for the catch! You are the best ! ! ! !" Not terribly over the top, but a lot more animated than her typical responses. I sent her another e mail addressing a similar concern and this time she upped the ante. "Thank you so0000 much!! You are awesome!" And so on.

Who knows why she acted that way, but here are some of my ideas:

1. She was high on something, most likely Ecstasy

2. She'd been screwing up a lot lately and has been worried about getting fired. My catching her
mistakes staved off the hangman for at least one more day.

3. She might not be that bright and was in awe of me for pointing out the fairly obvious.

4. She has a crush on me. Hey, why not? Must not let her meet me in person, though. Would
ruin the mystique.

5. This one's more convoluted and actually not that implausible. Sherri, the Paralegal in question,
having seen some of my emails to and from her coworker, Carole Anne, grew envious of their
general tone, which is almost always exceedingly friendly, and stepped up her game in that
respect. Maybe they're enemies and are fighting over me. Ooh la la! Sherri has her work cut out for her because, though I haven't met Carole Ann, I'm almost100% positive she is one of the nicest people on God's green earth. Some other time, perhaps, I'll illustrate in more depth
why I think that.

Fuck, I hate to cut this riveting bit of rhetoric, but it's getting damn late. I may have to part 2 this bitch. Wow, my first To Be Continued episode. Or at least I think it is. Anyway, I'll get into the rest of my day, which included visiting my parents and rehearsing with Luke Warm, some other time.

Holla!

You walk down Alameda, shuffling your deck of trick cards

Does the fact that I'm listening to Haydn's Divertimento in C Major as I write this elevate me in your estimation? Take a second to think it over, you just found out. In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I'm listening to it for the first time on Pandora, every one's favorite Internet radio station. Still, though, pretty classy, right?

Speaking of classy, in addition to Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, I've been reading from Joyce's Dubliners, which because of its short stories is my designated bathroom book. Do you find that revolting, reading in the bathroom? Well, if you do, the fact that I'm reading literature with a capital L in there should make things decidedly less gross. Or so I assume. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that, despite my uncouth bearing, I'm what you would call wicked cultured. I wouldn't call me that, however -- I'd be sure to use the word renaissance at least once in the description. It wouldn't be a stretch to throw the word regal into the equation, but I may pushing it with that one.
-
Baby Boy Z became Baby Boy Flea this week. Yes, the poor boy found himself the victim of the little devils and the other night, after a little cuddling with him, my legs became itchy. Upon close inspection, I saw that there was at least one flea picking on me. I abhor bullies, especially the near-microscopic ones.

Janelle took quick action and sprayed the fuck out of the house the following day. She even washed (someday I want only to say worshed, like the hillbillies do) each of our pillows and blankets. And she vacuumed each of our bedroom floors. It smells like a Snuggle theme park upstairs, I tell you. So, kudos to Janelle for taking swift action, and zero kudos to Baby Boy Z for taking no action. Seriously, though, he's still my BFF and, though I hate to admit it, I think I may have been the one who gave him the fleas in the first place. Don't tell Janelle.
-
My TV viewing is so limited these days that I missed the Kanye West incident at the MTV Video Awards. Not when it happened, anyway. I did watch a clip of it a day or two later. First of all, it was my understanding that MTV doesn't show videos anymore, so why the awards show? And, allowing that they do, if Beyonce, according to Kanye, had the best video of all time, then I'm glad I'm not watching that station anymore. And who is this Taylor Swift? Ah, I'm losing touch with the youth. Thank God. Ok, why am I writing about this ridiculous incident? And why has it been so newsworthy? I have my ideas, but I don't care to get into them; I'm getting a headache from this.

Was not prepared for the harrowing ordeal I witnessed last night on Six Feet Under. David getting beaten, forced to smoke crack, almost murdered several times....what a nightmare. I felt greasy in the way I would if I had just watched a beheading video. It was heavy, I tell you. I put in a DVD of The Office: Season Five and watched some deleted scenes to restore my equilibrium.
-
If you pieced together my interactions with Rich over the last five weeks, you'd get about two minutes of conversation. Maybe. He's gone underground, that one. He should be a squirrel or some other skittish forest creature in his next life. He's there in every way except physically. It would be an easy transition. Though I haven't interacted much with him, I know he's been miserable. I've heard him mumbling and grumbling about who-knows-what and he's been slamming doors and banging on walls occasionally. Other than that, though, it's as if it's just Janelle and me and Baby Boy Z (good name for a TV show, that).
-
Got to watch the fourth, and best, quarter of the Pats game the other night. My interest level is at about 30 % when it comes to football, but I'm glad I tuned in. It was a fantastic comeback. Who knows, maybe I'll watch a game or two this season.
-
Ok, I'm off to record some music, practice some vocals, do some reading, the usual. Ciao!

Publish Post