We used to have good times together, but now I feel them slip away

I was going to recount my recent troubles at work, and to a much lesser extent, at home, but I don't want to bring any more energy to them than is necessary. Fred, Matt, and I were just talking about the cycle coworkers get into when they share a common negative experience at their job and spend much of their free time complaining about it to each other. People need to vent, I get it, but it perpetuates negative energy. I've had jobs like that, but they are firmly lodged in the cellar walls of my past. Anyway, my troubles at work are uncharacteristic and hopefully temporary and my living situation could be a lot worse. Still, the writing is on the wall; time to plot my escape. When matters feel helpless, I say to myself, This too shall pass. Works every time.

So we'll move on to better things. I'm listening to Sun Kil Moon's Admiral Fell Promises, which is very good (Mark Kozelek's songs have been true companions of mine for a good chunk of my pure-hearted life). Tomorrow I'll head up to Tracy and Ray's. Tonight I'll shower the dried yoga sweat away and I'll read from the Patti Smith book and play music, singing to the silent angels and friends and lovers real and imagined. It shall be a glorious evening, I declare! Oh, I'll meditate, too. It's okay to assess the negative situations life presents; they are as real as anything and offer up lessons, but there is no sense in having them fester and bulge on autopilot in our minds. That leads to a grab bag of physical and psychological issues. But you know that. The gist is this: balance the sour with sweet whenever possible. And if you're able, tip the scales in favor of the sweet.

Somehow, I've lost a bit of my headstand mojo and I need to get it back. I may hit the mat again tonight, if only to work on that pose. I want to master it so that I can do things like backdrop to bridge pose from it. Yoga never gets boring; there's always more to learn.

Been modifying my diet. I barely eat sweets anymore. Same goes for bread. And I can't remember the last time I ate pasta. It may sound like rubbish, but I don't really get as much satisfaction from unhealthy foods the way I used to. Last time I had a piece of cake, my body protested. "Why are you poisoning me?", it asked. I'm not saying the cake didn't taste good as it went down my gullet, but that shit is toxic at the end of the day. You know what I like better than cake? Cashews. They are sublime. I know I sound like some preachy health guru, but I'm giving it to you straight. If you don't like it, you should go spend some time at The Fat Fuck's Guide To Being A Fat Fuck blog. I hear it's decadent.

Alright, disciples, I'm done with this post, which I'm giving a grade of C +. Not great, but it's a passing grade. Brings back memories of school. Anyhow, go do yourself and humanity a favor and  smile at a stranger or tell a friend or family member how much you love them. And do something nice for yourself while you're at it, like getting shitfaced drunk.

A rare and blistering sun shines down on Grace Cathedral Park

Memorial weekend ended with me in bed, overrun by chills, a blossoming headache, and an a swollen throat. It started well, though. In fact, most of it was satisfying. I was able to have some quiet time, which I needed and which found me reading, meditating, napping, and engaging in other activities that don't require the involvement of more than one person.

Went to a cookout with Spira on Saturday. I had a good time, but I don't think I'll include the event in my autobiography or relate it during a first date. What I didn't fancy about it was A) It was a bit cramped on the narrow porch where we congregated and, consequentially, a forced intimacy hovered over every interaction. That would have been desirable if, say, I was flirting with a pretty fraulein, but there weren't any there I was interested in. B) It seemed the majority of the people there worked together and took the opportunity to talk about work, which bored the living shit out of me. It's been a long time since I've had a job that consumes me so much  I need to explore its painful depths outside of it. In that regard, I am blessed.

As I say, though, I had a good time. I ate some free food and had fun with Spira. You can really gauge how close you are with someone when you're immersed in a group of people each of you doesn't know that well. More than once, she'd be the only one laughing at one of my jokes, and vice versa. We didn't stay overly long and headed back to Spira's, where I managed to catch the end of game 7 of the Celtcs/Sixers series.

Got to spend the day with Janelle and Baby Boy Z yesterday. We drank iced chai at True Grounds, hung out at the park, and had sushi at Yoshi's. Janelle is one of my all time favorites; I love spending time with her. And of course the Baby Boy. Him, too.

I think it was the Super Dragon that did me in. I had gone to Yoshi's the day before for some Black Dragon sushi. It had been months and months since my last go at it. It was divine! Still feeling the positive vibes from my Yoshi's experience I was grateful for a second opportunity when Janelle and I ended up there. This time it was the Super Dragon, which, though not stated anywhere on the menu, seems like it's supposed to be a level or two up from the Black Dragon. Along with it, we ate edamame and avocado salad.

Afterward, we walked back to my place and Janelle and Zeekers headed home. The minute I walked back into the house, I was assaulted with the chills, a headache, and scratchy throat. No slow build up, only BAM, MUTHA FUCKA! I went up to my room and got on the computer. I lasted about a minute before I had to put on some pants and a long sleeved shirt. When that didn't do the trick, I wrapped myself in a blanket and shivered.

In the midst of this turmoil, Matt called me from Davis Sq., asking if we still had power. I told him we did. "I was just at the coffee shop and the power went out. Right as it did, I felt this weird surge of energy, and so did a couple of other people around me. Messed up!"

I got off the phone with him as quickly as I could. I was in my own messed up situation. I got into bed under three layers of blankets. It took several minutes the aggressive shivering to subside. I was incredibly fatigued and kept falling in and out of sleep. I listened to a Duncan Trussell podcast, watched the rest of The Saddest Music In The World, and then listened to a talk given by Ram Dass, which I fell asleep to almost immediately.

I slept well, though I  woke up every hour or so to adjust my position. I feel more hale today, albeit still fatigued and a little head-achey. If it wasn't the first day back after a long weekend, I probably would have stayed home.

I reckon I'll take it easy tonight and hit the hay early. As to what made me so  suddenly sick, I suspect food poisoning, if only because of the timing and relatively short duration. I don't know, though, and I don't really care that much. I'm just glad I'm feeling better.

Something in your smile has left a light that has left a trace

An underlying current of tension has hummed through me all week. I've maintained my composure well enough, which is to say I haven't succumbed to the allure of drama. Still, it's been trying; I'm glad I'm on the precipice of a long weekend and the rest it promises. My comfort zone has been trodden upon and I'm adjusting, not always comfortably, but adjusting. I may just adjust myself out of my work and living conditions. Stay tuned.

What I've encountered, though uneasy, have been manageable lessons I hope to learn from. Every occasion I feel like I'm ready to snap is met with something that counteracts and soothes the situation. Deus Ex Machina. Meditation, yoga, and other spiritual pursuits have kept me steady and alert. When I feel like I have no fight left, something comes along, maybe a quote from a master, a smile, a kind word, and appeases my unrest. Look, life is a real bite in the ass sometimes, in case you haven't figured that out. You've got to arm yourself with tools to help you get through it. Like antidepressants and reality TV? No, not like those things. Not at all.

 I've had teachers. Here are some.

Earlier this evening, I had a couple of puffs, strapped on the iPod, grabbed the Patti Smith book I need to finish and give back to Jeff, and headed over to the park. A feeling of tranquility draped over me as I made my way. The day, which was predominantly gloomy, ended gloriously; the sun crept languidly towards setting and a layer of quiet rode the breeze, all was gentle.

Tranquility was soon replaced with a jolt of panic. Up ahead near the park a police officer was being feverishly pulled in my direction by a German Shepherd. Paranoid, my brain interpreted the scene erroneously and most certainly not in my favor. For a moment, maybe a couple of moments, it seemed certain that the cop was coming for me. I almost turned around and went back to the house, but I trudged on and continued toward the park.

The cop, as it happened, was just visiting someone. The dog was pulling feverishly on the leash because there were a couple of dogs nearby that it wanted to meet. That was all. Funny how things can happen. It really did seem like I was about to be accosted by the police, even though there was no conceivable reason for it to happen. Worked through the fear, I did. And I was rewarded.

At the park, I sat on a bench and read. About ten feet away, a couple shared a hammock while their dog, a handsome Boxer, sniffed around. I watched him contentedly. My mind was clear of thoughts and the residue of panic from earlier. He sauntered over to me and presented his head for petting and I obliged. In a reciprocating gesture, he gently climbed up the bench so that he was erect and eye level with me and licked my cheek. I thanked him and scratched his chest. That was it. He returned to his pack and lazed about on the grass.

After that, a family with two children, a boy and girl most likely three or four, walked by. The children looked anachronistic, like they were dressed by William Faulkner. They chased each other around trees and scampered across the lawn as their parents looked on placidly. Kids can be needy little assholes, but watching these two I thought of God.

When the sun began to set I walked up to the top of the hill the park rests on, sat in the lotus posture (still a bit uncomfortable, but I'm getting there) and meditated, chanting lightly. The park had emptied at that point, save a woman sitting on the grass fifteen feet away from. She had a sketch pad out and looked to be depicting the same scene I was meditating to.

Should I have approached her and made my case that she and I were about to be deeply entwined lovers? I don't know, readers, but my gut tells me that would have been a lousy tactic with a lousy outcome. No, romance was not in the script for that time and place.

Hold fast, readers! Romance and love making are in my near future, right around the bend. So close is that little cherub, Cupid! Perhaps, though, I am under some glamour, some cruel spell put upon me by a cruel sorcerer that makes me perceive falsely. It might be the case that nothing but solitude is in my future. Nothing but the persistent ache of feeling unloved, unwanted. A lonely wretch. A pariah to all women.

Oh, I don't really believe that (only sometimes when I let silly thoughts assert themselves). I do believe, however, that I'd like to play some music, meditate, read, that type of thing.

As you were, apostles.

Making all of the roses bloom in unison

After the discomfort and irritation of today, the details of which I'll spare you in an act of mercy, there's nothing for it but to listen to Amon Tobin's Isam with the headphones on, read from The Gunslinger, meditate, and then sleep myself into the ether of more favorable conditions. Tomorrow will be better.

And light it up forever, and never go to sleep, my best unbeaten brother, this isn't all I see

Today went rat-a-tat-tat. Movement, movement, movement! At work, my pace had an urgency about it and it did not wane. I had the energy. T'was a solid, stimulating day's work. There were brief run-ins with negative, worrisome thoughts, but they poofed away like chalk dust in the sunlight.

After work, I went to my parent's house. Mom made meatloaf, a meal I detested growing up, but enjoy these days. Her recipe is the same - maybe refined slightly - but my palate would argue otherwise. Post dinner, mom and I discussed politics, although the word discuss is hardly ever rightly paired with the word politics, and came out the other end with no hard feelings. Dad kept quiet through almost all of it but then challenged us with questions that had no clear answers, or better put, he asked questions that put into play the idea that none of us really knows precisely what's going on in the world around us as much as we think we know. Of course we don't, but I reckon the world seems a more stable and livable place when we feel we've got a handle on it. There is a clear distinction between knowing the truth and knowing a truth. That is why I don't feel all rosy in the midst of religious dogma. Expressing the inexpressible is not man's work.

Fred told me earlier that he and Matt hung out on the porch until 3:30 this morning drinking home brewed  beer and talking (Probably about me! Villains!). Fred, despite not having the luxury of being able to sleep in this morning, stuck it out to it's natural conclusion. Me, I would have gone to bed a couple of hours earlier, no matter how spirited the conversation. Well, maybe if it was a really good one. For example, one with an opening salvo like this: "Kevin, would you mind giving me a thorough and descriptive overview of the creature we've come to know as Bigfoot, starting with the Patterson-Gimlin film and branching out from there? Is that something you could do for me? Please?".

And now, let's hear from Thomas Wolfe. I suggest you read this many times but most definitely before bed. This passage, from Look Homeward, Angel, speaks to me deeply and I'm not sure I'd be able to articulate why if pressed. And that's the way it should be, my brothers and sisters.

 . . . a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a stone, a leaf, a door.
And of all the forgotten faces.

Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not
know our mother's face; from the prison of her flesh have we come
into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.

Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into
his father's heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?

O waste of loss, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this
most weary unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we
seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven,
a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. [Where? When?]

O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.

Getting out of bed is a bloody bloodshed you can do without

I woke up at eleven this morning. I have not slept that late in a long while. Losing a small chunk of the day notwithstanding, I feel pretty good about it. I have fractured dream recollections of sun-coated views of the ocean seen from a friend's deck and ghostly wanderings through the woods behind my childhood home. Speaking to the latter, I have a feeling these wanderings, which are reoccurring, are journeys to hidden and favorable realms of existence. Either that, or just some scraping the walls of my subconscious.

Late in the night, I woke up and had no idea who I was for at least ten seconds. Complete amnesia. I nearly panicked as I paced around the room wondering where and who I was. Those ten seconds were very long. This has happened before, years ago.


I spent about half the day cleaning the kitchen yesterday. I had posted a note on the fridge on Thursday stating my intentions and that if anyone was available to assist me, a high five would be in it for them. I didn't expect any takers - especially given the relatively short notice and the fact that high fives aren't the commodity they once were, but the place needed some cleaning and I was ok with doing some. Fred was out of the house bright and early to go hiking and Matt had a friend over.

I had ambitions to clean the whole house, but the kitchen was a lot of work and, besides, I'm not a housekeeper. I have two roommates who are able-bodied and can help out. So, I stuck to the kitchen; I went to town on the fridge, mopped, scrubbed, etc. I had music playing, it wasn't a terrible time. I did get a lingering headache as a result (all those cleaning chemicals and dust, I reckon) that is still dully with me as I type.

Hung out with Spira and Missy D. last night. We had Peruvian food delivered and watched Michael Ruppert preach his gospel in Collapse, which Spira fell asleep to almost immediately ("He has a soothing voice", she said sleepily when I nudged her awake). She rebounded and became engaged.

I'm wondering if I should practice some yoga. I think the answer will be yes. I could use some energy and perhaps it will enliven my senses, which are still sleep-addled (one reason I don't like sleeping too late). I hope the house will be a quiet one today. Yesterday, Matt was playing rockabilly kind of loud, there was a lousy cover band drifting in through the windows from some unknown location, and my mother's screeching, nagging voice filled my brain with chatter ("When are you going to shingle my Roof? Why don't you love me? My friend's son visits her all the time - what's your excuse?"). Oh, I'm just kidding about my mom. Really, she's lovely. Except when she's not. Hey, we're all fallible. We're human effin beings, damnit!

Ok, I'm out this piece, you practitioners of the dark arts.

One million kisses for one million girls, but no kisses left for you

Rae came by last night to take her name off our  internet account. The reason she had to be here, and the reason is stupid, is because in order to switch the name on the account so that it is done in one fell swoop without disruption in service and possible re-connect fees,both parties have to be present. Because we've been through this before, Rae volunteered her services before we thought to ask her. Matt, who was to be taking on the account, seemed surprised when the ordeal process took a couple of hours to complete. Rae and I, old hats, weren't surprised in the least.

I don't care to relieve the event, except to say that, just as the ordeal  process was coming to an end, Rae lost service on her phone. Her patience was already frayed at that point; this put her over the edge.She hurriedly called RCN back and got someone on the phone who had absolutely no knowledge of what we had just spent two hours going through. She snapped at the operator and I thought he was going to hang up on her. "Please refrain from using that language", he implored. She replied, "Maybe if I didn't just spend two hours dealing with this bullshit I'd be a little friendlier". To Matt and me she said, "Look, I've got to go", something she'd been saying earlier quite a bit. This time, though, she did leave, saying she'd come back today if we needed her to. We didn't need her to. Matt called RCN back and, somewhat miraculously, got the first person we had dealt with back on the phone. Another twenty minutes or so later and ordeal process was complete. Did I mention that for our troubles they tacked on another ten smackers to our service. Oh, RCN, you had me at hello, you magnificent bastard!

Just had a good session of yoga and I feel as light as a feather. A shower will take place at some point and all I can you for sure is that it's going to be a hot one and I will most assuredly be listening to some music throughout. I may even blog about it. Stay tuned, you rabid wolves!

Work has been busy. Considering how close we were to closing shop not that long ago, the steady and increasing work has been a blessing. Besides increased hours and more money, it's been gratifying having a lot of work to accomplish. The days go by quicker, the brain gets stimulated.


Let's pause and look at Missy D. Ain't she purty? Oh, how I love this girl!

 I feel like I'm on the precipice of getting laid. Believe it or not, readers, I have options. Will I pursue them is the question. Maybe, and here's why: I'M FUCKING HORNY! Oh, and my heart is as pure as a toddler's kiss.

From page 35 of Facebook Etiquette For Beginners:

A good way to be blocked or de-friended is to post many links to songs or videos in one sitting. For example, if you're sitting around listening to music for a couple of hours and decide you want to share that experience with your friends by posting EVERY SINGLE FUCKING SONG YOU'RE LISTENING TO, it's important to remember that your friends, while maybe interested in what you're providing,  will have to scroll down and down and down through your playlist before they can see what's going on with their other friends.It can be overwhelming, this eruption of material. Rule of thumb is that a little goes a long way. Instead of spewing out song after song after song after song after song after song after song after song after song after song, you may want to consider posting quite a bit less, say no more than three at once. This way you give your friends the courtesy of not monopolizing their wall with an army of songs they may or may not be interested in listening to. By not over-saturating, you're more likely to get people to check out what you're posting. In short, calm the fuck down.

Bye, lovers.