Looking for a lover to court and spark

I met up with Mara in Davis Square earlier. We went to a new place called Flat bread, a combination bowling alley/pizza joint. Mara had eaten there recently and loved it. I wasn't expecting anything close to gourmet, but, to my pleasant surprise, the food was top of the shelf. Everything was natural; all the fruits and vegetables were purchased at a local farmer's market. We shared an organic salad and a small sausage pizza. The salad was delicious. It consisted of mixed greens, goat cheese, celery, and seaweed, with a berry vinaigrette for dressing. The pizza, too, was delicious. Oven roasted, with mushrooms, maple sausage, cheese, and a bunch of other subtle stuff.

It was nice catching up with Mara. She was eager to talk about her new boyfriend, but didn't push the topic. She's still battling some insecurity concerning the relationship, but not as much as she was a couple of weeks ago. I'm happy for her.

I'm tired. Not exactly sure why. Maybe it's the heat. It's after nine, and it's still 85 degrees. Got the AC on, which is helping. Should I go work on some music? Yes, before I get too sleepy to be productive at anything.

A part of me wants to dip a ladle in my past, to revisit some pleasant memories. I heard a Lemonheads song on the radio today and it brought me back to my early adult hood, when Sean had come home from school, and we opened our minds wide to as much music as we could could shovel into our eardrums. Fertile days. A part of me wants to till that soil, yes, but I'm not up for it. Not tonight. I'm afraid I might come out the other end of it a little too sad. Ah, but those were good days spent with good friends.

Might watch M. Hulot's Holiday if the music thing doesn't work out tonight. Shoot, the way I'm feeling, I might end up choosing sleep over anything. Coffee? Had some earlier. Maybe a cold shower. Hmmm....

People want to inhabit their lives like ghosts that move from room to room

Shane's bachelor party last night. It took place in the backyard of his parent's house (his dad engineered the event) and it was festive all the way through. Shane was surprised, practically to the point of speechlessness, when he and Jenny arrived at the house to find a platoon of men congregated at the side. Skip, Shane's dad, started off the proceedings with a humorous, heartfelt, speech and then the party began.

I've got to tell you, the hookers working the event were top of the shelf: pretty, clean, seemingly well educated, attentive, and eager to please. All of us watched, including Skip, as two of the hired help went to town on Shane. After about an hour of that, Skip suggested we put some food in our bellies. He fired up the grill and before too long we were enjoying hot dogs and burgers.

It was a fine thing seeing Goozey there. Haven't seen him in, well, it's been years at this point. Some of us, before it got too dark, played frisbee, sipping on these incredible ginger drinks Scott prepared between turns. I am pleased to report that I haven't lost my frisbee mojo.

Another game we played looked to be a combination of horseshoes and skee ball, using bean bags instead of horseshoes. If it has an official name, and I'm sure it does, it is unknown to me. I teamed up with Brian and we handily beat Ray & Scott, until, a couple of games later, they got hot and beat us. Brian, who's one of the funniest people I've ever met, kept complaining about the bean count in the bags. He felt, and rightly so, one's game could get thrown off if some bags weighed more or less than others. His complaints fell on deaf ears, sadly.

After our stunning defeat, I ventured over to the shed to see if there were any hookers available. None were. I asked Craig and Skip, who were going ballistic on one of the women, if they thought they might be finishing up soon. Craig said they were almost done and told me to stick around. I wasn't too keen on the idea of being with this woman right after them, so I told them to take their time and that I'd be back later if I was still interested.

We had a nice jam session by the fire. Lots of guitars, a couple of djembe, and some excellent musicians made for a good time. So did the whiskey being passed around. I never, ever, drink hard stuff, but the last two weekends I did. Maybe I'm turning into a boozer. I'll keep you posted.

Craig and I left around midnight. I said goodbye to the prostitutes, wishing Roxy well with school ( she's studying to be a marine biologist). A great night with great friends. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone again at the wedding.
--
Yesterday I went to Fresh Pond for a run. Despite it's close proximity I'd never ventured there before. Janelle takes Pooch Edward Bottoms there fairly often and whenever she described the place to me, I'd say to myself "Kevin, you need to get over there and experience some Fresh Pond"

I had read online that one loop around the pond is 2.5 miles, more or less. I figured I'd go twice around and call it a day. When I got there, I immediately saw the appeal - beautiful scenery, well-tended paths, and plenty of dogs romping about. I ran a full loop and was more fatigued than I figured I would be. I questioned whether I should go another loop. Determined, I decided to go not one, but two more times around, only the next loop would be a rotation of sprinting and walking, and the final loop would be brisk walking only. Good plan, I thought, and went ahead bringing it to fruition.

In the end, I went between 7 and 8 miles. I was tired at the end, but felt good overall. It's a good place to run. Reading reviews of the place on Yelp, the common complaint was that there were too many dogs off-leash that got in the way. I didn't have any problems with the dogs. Compared to the asshole cyclists I have to contend with on the bike path, they were absolute joys.

At one point I wanted to say something to a woman who was hogging the water bubbler on the side of the path. She was with her dog and was obviously not exercising, per se. I say obviously because she was wearing jeans, heels, and a long sleeved shirt, and wasn't displaying a drop of sweat. Yet she drank deeply from the bubbler, as another woman stood by, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. I was approaching the scene and had the suspicion that the bubbler hog was just trying to be a bitch. She knew the other woman, who needed the water way more than she did, was waiting, yet she tarried way too long. That incident notwithstanding, I enjoyed myself thoroughly and plan on returning there soon.

Okay, I'm off. Today is a day of rest. I will watch a movie or two. I've got Last Year At Marienbad, Gran Torino, and Le Circle Rouge on the list. I'll also attempt to work on some music, read, and maybe take a nap. We shall see.

Oh, one more thing. Everything I wrote about the bachelor party was true, except for the frisbee. We never played. Alright, I'm kidding: we did play frisbee, but there were no prostitutes or strippers. Not a single woman in attendance. Feel better now?

I should trade my heart in for a watch

The phantoms of my past have been bubbling to the surface today. I've felt split in two; some of me functioning in the present while the rest of me sojourns through time and space, lured to moments once real. It's been my twenties I've been hovering around. I do not know why. A sudden urge to listen to The Eel's Electro-shock Blues has me firmly embedded in the period I listened to it a lot. The phantoms of the past must not take hold, lay claim to me. If they do, I fear my very soul will be in peril. Our ghosts, the ones that haunt us from the afterlife, are caught up in that cycle, I believe. Got to stay present, son. Eye on the prize.

Yesterday on the way to work, I spotted a snail affixed to my side mirror. It was hanging valiantly, but there were harrowing moments on the highway that put its existence in jeopardy. Several times the snail barely hung on, it's body mostly out of its shell, stretched out in the wind. A goner, I thought. Should I interfere or let things happen as nature dictates, I asked myself. I didn't have too long to think on it; the snail was soon to perish.

As I drove, I kept careful, maybe too careful, vigil over the snail, rooting it on and contemplating bringing it inside to let it recover on my dashboard. I ended up rolling my window down and gently holding it in place. It must have looked odd to those passing by. The little snail that could made it to work. Phew!

As I was driving home from work, I saw the snail on my mirror. Fuck! Why didn't I check the mirror before I started driving? I guess I figured the little guy would have gotten as far away from the car as possible. I was more than halfway home; maybe it would make it. After all, it was experienced now in this type of travel. It looked pretty secure on the mirror. That is, until a gust of wind left it dangling. Before I could get to the snail, the wind took it. I felt pretty lousy about the whole thing for a few minutes. And then I got over it. A bummer, though; I feel like I let the snail down.

I'm out of here. Going to read from Jordan's The Great Hunt, even better and more gripping than I remember it. Once I complete it, I'll only have twelve more massive books to go in my re-read of the series.

Must work on music. Got to go, kiddies.

When you have no one, no one can hurt you

I bought some new running shoes yesterday. A worthwhile investment, despite being light in the wallet. I'd been switching between two old, worn, and beaten pairs for a couple of years and it was time for a change. I've been running more frequently and greater distances; a new pair of shoes was in order. I deserved it.

So, I purchased a pair of Sauconeys after work, came home, laced up, and ventured out in the rain which had been been coming down steadily, almost angrily, and tested the bad boys out. The result? I think I made a good choice; t'was like running on pillows. I realized as I ran that I should have gotten new shoes a while ago. I was able to run faster and longer; I could cut on a dime; I felt reborn.

I started running about four years ago. Though I'd always been more or less athletic, running was never appealing to me. Partly because I was a smoker. There was no way I could do both. Smoking usually came out on top until I finally quit. I was smoke free for a year when it dawned on me that I had gone a long time without exercise. I was living with Spira at the time. One night, she decided to try running, something she hadn't engaged in before. She didn't go far, maybe a couple of circuits around the block, but it was something. More than I was doing. I'll never forget coming out of the shower and hearing her knocking on the front door. She'd forgotten her key. I opened the door in my towel. Spira was breathing heavy and fatigued, but she was smiling with pride. She'd made a step, or several as it were, in the right direction, toward a healthier lifestyle. In my towel, I felt like a wet piece of pastry that was teetering too close to a gluttonous lifestyle.

My first stab at running was brief, but consequential. It was a couple of months later and I'd been taking long walks fairly regularly. Every so often when I'd see a runner pass by, I'd get the itch to run, but it wouldn't go beyond that. At the time, I had difficulty seeing myself becoming a runner. One day, though, I was on the bike path and I said "fuck it" and broke into a jog. I made it about a hundred feet before I needed to stop. Like Spira with her first attempt at running, I was out of breath and lethargic, but I was smiling. I had started something. Thought put into action. I would go at my own pace, but I had a good feeling I'd stick with it.

For a few weeks after, I'd walk, jog a little, and walk some more. Mostly walking. I was slowly developing stamina and my legs needed to adjust to the new activity and its demands. There were times my legs hurt so bad, I could barely walk, never mind run. I ended up using the track at Tufts. With a softer surface, I hoped the pain would decrease.

I worked through it gingerly. Even at the track, I was in a lot of pain. Mostly in my knees. I wondered if I was going to have to give up running. I'd made it that far, though, and didn't want to stop. I don't recall when it happened, but I finally experienced my first pain free run at the track. I was ecstatic. I hoped it wasn't a fluke. It wasn't. After that, I no longer experienced any pain when I ran.

I eventually abandoned the track because it was boring and I was concerned I'd lose interest and quit running. I hit the streets again in an effort to shake things up. My routines were still a combination of walking and running, but now it was mostly the latter. The distances were never much more than a couple of miles, but it was something.

Over time, it dawned on me that, despite running every other day on a regular basis, I wasn't seeing much of a difference in the way I looked. I had operated under the assumption that if I ran between one and two miles every other day, I could eat as much as I wanted to. Nope. Mind you, I was eating a pretty healthy diet overall, it was just that my portions were pretty large and, oh yeah, I was eating a big mug of ice cream and crackers or chips, on a daily basis. I needed to change some things, to be sure.

It's a process, with a lot of fine tuning. Starting this spring, I changed things up and decided to shoot for an optimal healthy lifestyle, better than I've ever known. Rather than practice yoga every so often, I started doing it every other day between runs. I altered my diet; I eat better and less. It could be argued that I'm in the best shape of my life. I couldn't have managed the run I went on yesterday in my twenties. Still, there's more I can fine tune, more adjustments I can make. What did Tony Robbins call it? CANI: Constant And Never ending Improvement. Yeah, that's the stuff.

We can talk our way out of anything. We make excuses why we can't or shouldn't do something. Fear holds us back, renders us immobile. Our myths, our legends, are in place to guide us through fear and keep us moving with the flow in the of life. What happens to a shark that stops swimming? Life is change and if we're not flexible, not mobile, we wither and die. So much of life is open to interpretation; what I just described isn't really. It's a basic truth, a universal law. It's why I run in the rain and snow, the sweltering heat, and the chill of winter. Not because I'm some kind of tough guy, an iron man,but because I'm declaring to myself and the universe that I believe in what I'm doing, that I'm willing to experience discomfort in order to keep doing it.

There's much in my life that fear has a hold on. I know this, I see it. Some of it I'll work through, some perhaps I won't. I know too well what it feels like to be frozen in place. I've watched so many others advance while I struggled in the lower depths. Running, yoga, quitting smoking, eating better - all of this is a big FUCK YOU to fear. I'm proud of myself for this. It illustrates that I'm capable of challenging myself, overcoming obstacles, and sticking with something. For all I know, I'll stop it all and in a few months become a full blown couch potato, stuffing my face in gluttonous fury. I can't worry about that. I can only deal with what's in front of me.

And so can you.

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

What a gloomy, dreary day. And on a Monday. Yuck! I wish I took today off and lounged around in house pants all day, reading and other layabout activities. Ah, it wasn't so bad, I guess. I didn't die or nothin'.
Camping was a good time. On Friday morning, Spira, Haiyan, Missy the dog, and I headed up to Vermont. Our usual place had few sites available and those were sub par at best. Spira, anticipating this outcome, had researched a couple of other primitive campgrounds nearby, providing us with a back up plan. One of them, called Texas Falls for some reason, was only a few miles up the road.

The sites there were more abundant, but none were situated near a stream, which was not desirable . We checked another location Spira had researched, but the mountain had no camp sites, just a long, gravel-strewn road. We headed back to Texas Falls; despite the absence of a nearby stream, it had the best sites out of the three places we went to.

The site we chose was near the crest of a mountain, spacious, shady, and fairly isolated. All around it were signs of animal activity. I set up my tent next to a tree with bear claw marks all over it. Moose and deer tracks were everywhere.
It was late in the day by the time we unpacked the car and set up our tents. The ride up, including several pit stops for the ladies and the time it took to find a camp site, took close to six hours, almost double the time it should have taken. We set up our tents, gathered wood, made a fire, and relaxed.

Haiyan, who had never been camping before, was ready for bed shortly after it got dark. Spira and I encouraged her to stay up a bit later. She did, but not for much longer. She was fast asleep by the time Melanie and her friend Andy arrived.

I knew Melanie, a friend of Spira's, only a little bit, and Andy I didn't know at all. Good people, both. Very mellow, low maintenance, and engaging. Andy had lived in Taiwan and other parts of Asia for years and conversed with Haiyan in Chinese.

That first night, we had wine, whiskey, some mother nature, music, and a lot of great conversation. Every so often, one of us would lay down by the fire with Missy the dog. who is one of the sweetest, most serene, dogs I've ever met.


For dinner, we had Greek sausage, garlic mashed potatoes, and a delicious salad of chick peas, mandarin oranges, and black beans that Spira and Haiyan made.

The next morning, one of the first sights I saw when I came out of my tent was Missy the dog walking around with a blue fleece jacket on. I thought I had walked into some Jim Henson production. Turns out, Missy had been shivering quite a bit in the tent (greyhounds aren't really equipped for cooler weather) and Spira, being the attentive mother that she is, put the coat on her. I didn't disapprove, certainly not, but I still thought it was pretty funny.

We had pancakes, fruit, and coffee for breakfast. Afterward, several of us went out in the woods and collected wood. Everyone pulled their weight, no one complained. I worked myself hard;it felt good working off the cobwebs. A bit later, we all went for a hike up the old logging trail Andy found in the woods behind our site. We were deep in the woods; no sign of humans anywhere. As we reached the top of the mountain, we walked out onto a beautiful scene: rolling fields, a farm off in the distance, and an almost 360 view of the surrounding mountains. Spira, Missy, Melanie and I ran around with Missy, who was thrilled at all the open space. We hung around there for a while. No one was in a rush.

Along the trail, especially where the ground was muddy, were plenty of tracks. Bear, moose, a couple that could have been mountain lion, coyote, and one impressive track of a very large bare foot.

After reading Christopher Noel's well written and way more legit seeming than I anticipated Impossible Visits, a book about Bigfoot habituation across the country that also chronicles his own experiences with the creature in Vermont, I've wanted to conduct a bit of my own research up there. The footprint was impressive, particularly because as I was crouched over it, Melanie commented that someone had been walking around barefooted before I said a word about it.

What made me believe it was not made by a human? First of all, the print was at least 14 inches long, making it quite a bit longer than the average human foot. And, with all my weight pressed into the ground next to the track, I could barely make an impression that came close to the depth the footprint produced, which was about two inches. Also, the print was crossing the path, not going along with it. It strains credulity to believe someone with very big feet and quite heavy was out in the middle of the woods barefoot. It's possible, sure, but most definitely atypical. In the final analysis, I'm not sure what produced this lone print, but I'm pretty sure. Now I want to go back and look for more prints.

That night, we ate hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and other tasty treats. Spira and I had some flan for dessert. At one point, Haiyan asked the group what the meaning of camping was. We told her that some of it has to do with getting back to nature, but ultimately it may mean different things for different people. "In China, we didn't camp. We were already pretty much living like we were camping", she said.

Haiyan retired to her tent fairly early that night, but stayed up later than the night before. I wasn't too far behind her. I had been curled up with Missy and kept dozing off. We had an active, albeit relaxed, day and it wasn't long after I shut off my lantern that I fell asleep. I had tried reading a bit, but it was a futile endeavor.

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of rain drops on the tent. Very tranquil, but I wondered if it was going to abate by morning. It didn't. In fact it still hasn't stopped. We ate breakfast under a tarp and then packed up our gear and cleared out.

I'm really glad I went camping. I feel re-energized. We had a nice mix of people; it was good getting to know Haiyan, Melanie, and Andy. It was also nice spending time with Spira. We've known each so long, sometimes it's like we're married. We had some nice time together, just her and I, that I'm grateful for. We've had our difficulties, but that's par for the course when you're close friends with someone almost twenty years. I love her and I'm thankful I have her in my life.

It was a wet ride home. Spira commented that Melanie and I would make a fine couple. I couldn't disagree, but considering she and Andy looked to be heading into a relationship, I didn't really entertain the notion. She did say she was a Werner Herzog fan- unsolicited, even - which got my attention, but alas, it doesn't appear anything will happen, at least not in the foreseeable future.

We stopped off in some town in NH and hit a McDonald's. I haven't been to one in a loooong time. Each of us got a fillet o' fish. Delicious, son! And for desert, a hot apple pie. Everything tasty, but I won't be frequenting that establishment again any time soon. Evil stuff going on there.

Okay, you're tired of me and I'm just tired. Let's call it a night, shall we?

And I've got this crazy feeling that I'm going to make her mine

Taking a break from packing. Going camping in Vermont tomorrow and it's a going to be a challenge fitting everything into an already stuffed car. I've been camping most of my adult life; here's hoping I've learned a few tricks about packing.

I've been buzzing around all day, like a.....like some kind of insect. Perhaps a bee. Anyway, I had to do some recording (of documents, not music) in Boston and Cambridge this afternoon and it was down to the wire. I only had a little over an hour to do it all in. With a little bit of hustle, a good amount of luck, and a pure heart in full bloom, I accomplished my task. I came home and went for a run. I pushed myself pretty hard and upon my return home, I felt lethargic. A hearty salad for dinner brought some energy back. But then right back to packing. I'll sleep well tonight, I reckon.

Saw some great movies recently. The Piano Teacher, Army of Shadows, Grand Illusion - each well above average and not one in English. I don't mind subtitles; I go where the muse takes me.

Life is so strange, especially the older you get. The script gets longer and longer, people get older. Oh, I don't have time to chase this thought.

I'm going to see if I can finish Jordan's Eye of The World tonight. About eighty pages left. I think I can do it. First, though, it's off to the club for some Salsa dancing! Me gusta la bailar Salsa!

Alright, I'm not going dancing. Thank God!

No posts from me for a few days. If you feel any withdrawal, I suggest you explore older posts. You'll experience hours and hours and hours of fun. And you might even learn a thing or two. You'll be in such a prolonged state of bliss, you'll hardly notice my return. That is until you read the latest post, which will be all about my sexy adventures camping. It will please you to no end, I predict.

Do you wanna come walk with me?

Yesterday, I finished my day at the registry in Cambridge. As I headed to the Galleria to retrieve my car from the garage, I called Spira, who lives a couple of blocks away, to see if she was around. I had a feeling she might be in the Galleria doing a little shopping. Turns out she was. I met up with her and we headed back to her place. First order of business: install a bidet.

I'm not kidding. Spira ordered a bidet through the mail. For those of you who don't know what I'm referring to, I'll let Wikipedia, that bastion of information, explain: A bidet is a low-mounted plumbing fixture or type of sink intended for washing the genitalia, inner buttocks, and anus. (Just between you and me, I figured you all knew what a bidet was, but I needed an excuse to share that definition, which, I admit, made me laugh a bit. I guess I find bidet humor funny.)

Spira did most of the work installing the bidet, which was basically a plastic device that hooked on to the toilet seat (Kind of like the Captain's chair in Star Trek. There's a control panel on the right set up like an arm rest). At one point, she realized she needed bolts longer than the ones provided. So we leashed up Missy the greyhound and walked over the bridge into Charlestown to Ace Hardware. On the way, almost every single pedestrian we passed stopped and gushed over Missy. They didn't just pet her, they hugged and kissed and her, and made plenty of baby talk. It was no different inside the hardware store, which kind of worked to my benefit, because I was the one holding the leash when an attractive woman came over and chatted me up about Missy. Spira joined the conversation, unintentionally ruining whatever chance I had with this woman. It didn't bother me, but I told her afterward I wanted to borrow Missy every once in a while; I'd have the perfect ice-breaker with women. Look, I need all the help I can get.

Back at Spira's place, the bidet was installed without anything else gumming up the works. We went out to a nice little sandwich shop for dinner. I got a delicious falafel wrap, Spira went with a tuna melt with bacon. Later, after we digested some of our dinner, we practiced yoga.

I was productive today. In the morning, I went out for some groceries at Trader Joe's, went for a vigorous run in the near perfect weather, cleaned my room, installed the new spray gun I bought for our kitchen sink (Our old one finally passed away yesterday after a long, painful illness.It went quietly in its sleep), and worked on some music.

Enough of me. Mark and Isobel, take us home.