Yesterday was perhaps the laziest of lazy days I've had in a long time. I think I picked the right day, because the morning rain turned itself into evening blizzard, and didn't stop until late at night, and yet again we find ourselves covered in snow.
And today, a surprise text invite to go for a walk with the object of my affection, as she went to the bank on her break. Sigh. We walked through slush and intense sunshine, though its still undeniably cold, too cold, and then witnessed a slight fender bender between two very large construction trucks, the loudest crash that shook both of us for a few seconds.
...
I've been thinking and rethinking this whole situation through and through. Because that's what I do, I over-analyze everything, most especially matters of the heart.
My roommate grilled me on it last night, asking me why I'm going so strong for this relationship, the one that is doomed, almost suicidal, she said.
Perhaps it is safe. So safe. One day very soon she will be gone, or at least moved on to somewhere else. No unexpected endings, no major let-downs, and none of the "forever" question bs. that tends to find its way into most relationship talks or thoughts.
We have this limited amount of time. How are we going to use it with the best of our abilities? I mean, every relationship is limited in time, just over different lengths; rest of our lives? two years? One month?
I don't know. All I know is, is that it feels so damn good to feel excited by a girl again. Not to be endlessly lamenting the loss of a potential marriage that I wasn't 100% sure should have happened in the first place.
She's wicked hot, we can talk for hours about from nothing at all to the great themes of life, we seem to be in such the same place and position in life, making out is way fun, and she likes me and I like her. I would very much like to enjoy her company for the time we have left.
I'm not concerned with the ending. All relationships end sooner or later. I've dwelt too much on endings.
...
I stepped into the bathroom and noticed nothing. Nothing. No black ants combing the walls, inspecting the strange, black trap where my mouthwash used to reside, no ants on the sink, no ants on the walls, in the bathtub, all over...
For two days the bathroom has been strangely silent.
Perhaps the cheap-ass traps I bought have worked their magic. Maybe my upstairs neighbors have more mouthwash than I do, I'm currently out, and the ants have moved up there.
Or perhaps they're amassing their armies for the final, shock-and-awe invasion I'll wake up to, tomorrow morning.
I am quite getting used to showering with their dead carcasses floating around my feet in the bathtub. Sometimes its fun to splash them with water.
...
And tonight I will be seeing my friend's burlesque troop perform. It shall be quite fun. Once i find some info on their troop, I'll post a link so y'all can check them out. And it is a tasteful show, as tasteful as burlesque can be.
...
And I ran the mustache idea by the girl the other night, and it looks like I just might have to wait until she is gone. Something she said about mustaches being "terrifying and disgustingly gross."
I do agree with these sentiments.
But I'm going to do it anyway. Well, in a month, anyway.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Yet Another Good Reason to Quit Smoking
I'm all jibbered up here. I've been chaining smoking cigarettes like a fiend in anticipation. Because the girl will shortly be here, and we're going out for dinner. !!! I've got to build up that nicotine supply to make it through the night. Also she's the first girl I've hung out with in a long time that isn't a smoker, so I find myself trying to abstain, which has actually worked pretty well. So maybe in order to quit smoking I just need to have this girl around all the time, which wouldn't be such a bad thing in my book, though I know she's destined to leave. Sigh. Three short weeks...
Anyways, we're hanging out tonight!!!
Goddamn, I say.
I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas.
Peace!
Anyways, we're hanging out tonight!!!
Goddamn, I say.
I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas.
Peace!
Monday, March 24, 2008
Concerning movement
I called my parents on Easter Sunday. I'll admit, its been a while since I've talked to them. I'm not exactly the best son in the world concerning keeping in touch with them.
They inquired about my thoughts concerning a job search, or at least a career path to embark upon, though I gave them the standard answer I've given them for years now, "yeah, thinking about stuff...blah blah, etc, etc..." Then I told them I was heavily pondering a move down south, and then, _____, awkward silence... Some questions concerning jobs down there, where I'd stay, and then a change of subject.
Which kind of hurt, to be honest. I mean, they have been supportive of me over the years, bailed me out one time, and helped with moves in the past. I'd like to think I'm a bit more capable as an adult, have a somewhat stronger head on my shoulders. I just didn't get the feeling they were going to stand behind me on this issue.
Not like I need their permission. But a little support is all I'm asking for...
I don't know, it just kind of put me in a sour mood last night, among other things.
...
Because I can't fathom staying in this town much longer. Granted I've said it so many times before, the gotta-get-out speech. I've seen so many people say it, and then do it, and then come back, like a giant swirling vortex, sucking you back in.
"Still, its not a bad place to be stuck in."
There's just too much here. Too many memories, and ghosts haunting all of the sidewalks I've walked down before. Ghosts in the bars, ghosts in the job I've worked at for over four years, the endless faces that come and go.
...
I had a good, long talk with my enabler, C. who lives out in California, calling me from on top of a mountain looking out over valleys and two lakes, who is currently watching his "babies" grow, his fine, fine crop of green goodness.
He always gets me riled up with thoughts of adventure, of the mystical and magical nature of living your life the way you want to live it. He's making plans for a cross-country motorcycle road trip, and part of the plan is visiting me when I move to Austin, and the rest of our friends there...
And so I've been saying it more and more, saying it out loud to people, "I'm planning on moving," in the hopes that it will actually sink into my head, that I will do it.
...
And L. Marge played a very hilarious joke on some coworkers today, involving placing a hard boiled egg inside one of the roasting chickens that my coworkers have to pick the meat off of. We just happened to be training someone new today, and they gasped when they discovered the egg, "Its got an egg in it!" A nice little treat for the new person. A brilliant joke.
They inquired about my thoughts concerning a job search, or at least a career path to embark upon, though I gave them the standard answer I've given them for years now, "yeah, thinking about stuff...blah blah, etc, etc..." Then I told them I was heavily pondering a move down south, and then, _____, awkward silence... Some questions concerning jobs down there, where I'd stay, and then a change of subject.
Which kind of hurt, to be honest. I mean, they have been supportive of me over the years, bailed me out one time, and helped with moves in the past. I'd like to think I'm a bit more capable as an adult, have a somewhat stronger head on my shoulders. I just didn't get the feeling they were going to stand behind me on this issue.
Not like I need their permission. But a little support is all I'm asking for...
I don't know, it just kind of put me in a sour mood last night, among other things.
...
Because I can't fathom staying in this town much longer. Granted I've said it so many times before, the gotta-get-out speech. I've seen so many people say it, and then do it, and then come back, like a giant swirling vortex, sucking you back in.
"Still, its not a bad place to be stuck in."
There's just too much here. Too many memories, and ghosts haunting all of the sidewalks I've walked down before. Ghosts in the bars, ghosts in the job I've worked at for over four years, the endless faces that come and go.
...
I had a good, long talk with my enabler, C. who lives out in California, calling me from on top of a mountain looking out over valleys and two lakes, who is currently watching his "babies" grow, his fine, fine crop of green goodness.
He always gets me riled up with thoughts of adventure, of the mystical and magical nature of living your life the way you want to live it. He's making plans for a cross-country motorcycle road trip, and part of the plan is visiting me when I move to Austin, and the rest of our friends there...
And so I've been saying it more and more, saying it out loud to people, "I'm planning on moving," in the hopes that it will actually sink into my head, that I will do it.
...
And L. Marge played a very hilarious joke on some coworkers today, involving placing a hard boiled egg inside one of the roasting chickens that my coworkers have to pick the meat off of. We just happened to be training someone new today, and they gasped when they discovered the egg, "Its got an egg in it!" A nice little treat for the new person. A brilliant joke.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
819 miles, Austin to Atlanta
According to the calender, its officially Spring here in these parts, though you wouldn't really know it if you lived in these parts. A weekend blast of 6-8 inches of snow... again... yet again... and already its melting... again...
I would say now that I'm officially done with it all, thrown up my hands, goddamn I declare, I'm done with this winter shit... but I know two weeks from now its gonna come again, the winter reminder, I'm not quite done yet...
...
Where is my mind? This last week my mind has been in overdrive. My mind and my spirit are north and south. I've been going utterly bug fuck, about what, I'm not quite sure.
I'll admit the "worst date ever" left me in a mood for some reason. It seemed at the time, those couple days in the aftermath, that I hadn't learned anything at all concerning the realm of dating, of relationships, of how to deal with other people, that after all this time I still fall into the same susceptible patterns we are all doomed with to fall into over and over again... Some how we make it work, we go on, we go on and on again.
We know the banana peel is there, but we slip on it anyway.
...
(Question = Has anyone, ever, actually slipped on a banana peel? And I would really like to meet the first human ever that ever slipped on a banana peel. Often times I wonder about those first few, the few that created entire cliches, and stereotypes that we hold dear)
...
Enter St. Patty's day. I think this one threw me for an even bigger loop. Anyone who knows me, knows I quite am taken with the drink, and that any holiday dedicated to drinking is lost on me. Amateur night in my book, as the old saying goes.
And I even showed up early to the bar, and luckily found unexpected friends there.
I'll admit I was nervous. I had been trying for a week to find the right time to ask her out. It was actually on the day of the "worst date ever," which before hand, the prospect of a date, had filled me with such joy, and confidence, that I was buzzing around the apartment, walking down the sidewalk with a spring in my step, content and dancing my way through town, that I went and got coffee at work, and she was there, right there, by the coffee station, waiting for something, and there I talked to her, asking her when she'd be coming out with us, the coworkers. Secretly I just wanted her to come out with me, for me.
I asked a coworker of hers to invite her out. It was a long shot, I could have done it myself, and it opened me up to ridicule, but I went for it anyways.
And then she came in.
It had been about thirty minutes. I was on the way to buy another beer, but I stopped to say "hi,"
and I did, and then we didn't stop talking. I didn't smoke, I didn't realize I hadn't bought a beer. We just traded stories, and kept talking. I went without these things, and didn't notice. I was glued on her words.
People the next day gossiped, people knew. Those in on the "set-up," realized right away, they didn't even need to be there for the "set-up." They said we were in a bubble; I only spoke to someone else twice in the course of the evening. Everyone else wanted details, sadly.
I've dated enough coworkers to know the ins and outs of the grinding of the rumor mill. And I don't care. Let them talk. I'll admit, its hard to suppress a huge, shit-eating grin, and trying to maintain the cool.
But I found it extremely hard to do that morning. I was excited, genuinely excited about a girl again. Its a most wondrous feeling. I found faith in women-kind again. I'll admit I had some harsh feelings going on there for a while. And originally I planned for 6-8 months of healing before I got involved with hearts and bodies again... But I spent three months brooding, and life is too short. Time is limited.
Very limited. She moves away in less than a month.
I know how to pick them.
I do. I do, indeed.
...
I mean, it made sense, in my brain. (For once...) I like a girl that's leaving... because its safe, she'll be gone, we have a mad, passionate romance, like road-magic, reap all the benefits, no drama and negative aftermath... The deadline. Time is of the essence. And after last night, wow, I'm thinking I really like her.
I cannot get over it. My bedsheets smell like girl again. The best smell.
We drank wine that tasted like grape-juice. I hate grape-juice. But I love wine, and at least it had alcohol in it. Then we tried to build a snowman, with only a tree branch, a package of ancient tortillas (which were months and months old, but free of mold. Scary. How long does this food last? It seemed unreal to me. What's in our food?), and two ancient clementines, which have hardened and shrunk to a rock-like size. Perfect eyes.
But the snow was not packing snow. And the resultant snow-ball fight was even worse... the balls evaporated in the air, leaving a dusting of snow on the other person. Then back inside for more wine and then I serenaded her with my new songs on the guitar. Sounds cheesy, but yes, it works. He, he.
...
She's encouraging me to move to Austin.
Her and everyone else...
She's in the same boat I am... Moving, deciding to move, stature in life, etc...
As you can see, I'm kinda losing my head over it. And it feels good. I feel utterly human again.
I feel utterly human again. After three and a half long months of complete stress and depression and alienation, I feel human again.
(Listen to the new Mountain Goats album, specifically the song "Autoclave" and you'll know what I mean. Its a pop gem, something I'd never thought I'd say about a Mountain Goats song. And describes exactly what I felt like.)
...
Like I said, its spring here, but you'd hardly know it. But I feel it. So, so soon, and then summer, and then out.
And I really, really, really like a girl again. It feels good.
And she likes me.
Yes!
...
I sent her one of the best text messages I have ever conceived. The kind that fall into the "Should I send this, or not? category." Text messages are funny sometimes.
It read, "You should just assume that I want to hang out with you every night before you go. But I understand you got stuff to take care of. Just sayin'."
...
I didn't think I was really ready for this, but here I go, go ga-ga for a girl again.
...
Ps. In honor of our lovely, Spring, snowy weather, I shaved off the mutton chops. I can see my face again. Those thing were thicker and longer than I've ever grown before, and also very annoying lately. I look ten years younger. Still got it!
And I'm verily seriously considering growing a mustache, a moo-stash, if you will. Its something I once swore I would never do, certain patriarchal reasons (He's had one forever). But I have snapped photos of one on my face when shaving the rare full beard I grow. And then destroyed them immediately. In a great fire.
But I think I'm ready to cross that line, jump that hurdle. Too many people today have bemoaned the loss of the chops.
I mean, they'll grow back, really.
But a mustache? A genuine mustache! Some guys can pull it off. I'm not sure I have the inner strength. Maybe I should wait until the girl moves away, before pulling something like that on her. Although, she did accept me, chops and all...
Where is my mind?
I would say now that I'm officially done with it all, thrown up my hands, goddamn I declare, I'm done with this winter shit... but I know two weeks from now its gonna come again, the winter reminder, I'm not quite done yet...
...
Where is my mind? This last week my mind has been in overdrive. My mind and my spirit are north and south. I've been going utterly bug fuck, about what, I'm not quite sure.
I'll admit the "worst date ever" left me in a mood for some reason. It seemed at the time, those couple days in the aftermath, that I hadn't learned anything at all concerning the realm of dating, of relationships, of how to deal with other people, that after all this time I still fall into the same susceptible patterns we are all doomed with to fall into over and over again... Some how we make it work, we go on, we go on and on again.
We know the banana peel is there, but we slip on it anyway.
...
(Question = Has anyone, ever, actually slipped on a banana peel? And I would really like to meet the first human ever that ever slipped on a banana peel. Often times I wonder about those first few, the few that created entire cliches, and stereotypes that we hold dear)
...
Enter St. Patty's day. I think this one threw me for an even bigger loop. Anyone who knows me, knows I quite am taken with the drink, and that any holiday dedicated to drinking is lost on me. Amateur night in my book, as the old saying goes.
And I even showed up early to the bar, and luckily found unexpected friends there.
I'll admit I was nervous. I had been trying for a week to find the right time to ask her out. It was actually on the day of the "worst date ever," which before hand, the prospect of a date, had filled me with such joy, and confidence, that I was buzzing around the apartment, walking down the sidewalk with a spring in my step, content and dancing my way through town, that I went and got coffee at work, and she was there, right there, by the coffee station, waiting for something, and there I talked to her, asking her when she'd be coming out with us, the coworkers. Secretly I just wanted her to come out with me, for me.
I asked a coworker of hers to invite her out. It was a long shot, I could have done it myself, and it opened me up to ridicule, but I went for it anyways.
And then she came in.
It had been about thirty minutes. I was on the way to buy another beer, but I stopped to say "hi,"
and I did, and then we didn't stop talking. I didn't smoke, I didn't realize I hadn't bought a beer. We just traded stories, and kept talking. I went without these things, and didn't notice. I was glued on her words.
People the next day gossiped, people knew. Those in on the "set-up," realized right away, they didn't even need to be there for the "set-up." They said we were in a bubble; I only spoke to someone else twice in the course of the evening. Everyone else wanted details, sadly.
I've dated enough coworkers to know the ins and outs of the grinding of the rumor mill. And I don't care. Let them talk. I'll admit, its hard to suppress a huge, shit-eating grin, and trying to maintain the cool.
But I found it extremely hard to do that morning. I was excited, genuinely excited about a girl again. Its a most wondrous feeling. I found faith in women-kind again. I'll admit I had some harsh feelings going on there for a while. And originally I planned for 6-8 months of healing before I got involved with hearts and bodies again... But I spent three months brooding, and life is too short. Time is limited.
Very limited. She moves away in less than a month.
I know how to pick them.
I do. I do, indeed.
...
I mean, it made sense, in my brain. (For once...) I like a girl that's leaving... because its safe, she'll be gone, we have a mad, passionate romance, like road-magic, reap all the benefits, no drama and negative aftermath... The deadline. Time is of the essence. And after last night, wow, I'm thinking I really like her.
I cannot get over it. My bedsheets smell like girl again. The best smell.
We drank wine that tasted like grape-juice. I hate grape-juice. But I love wine, and at least it had alcohol in it. Then we tried to build a snowman, with only a tree branch, a package of ancient tortillas (which were months and months old, but free of mold. Scary. How long does this food last? It seemed unreal to me. What's in our food?), and two ancient clementines, which have hardened and shrunk to a rock-like size. Perfect eyes.
But the snow was not packing snow. And the resultant snow-ball fight was even worse... the balls evaporated in the air, leaving a dusting of snow on the other person. Then back inside for more wine and then I serenaded her with my new songs on the guitar. Sounds cheesy, but yes, it works. He, he.
...
She's encouraging me to move to Austin.
Her and everyone else...
She's in the same boat I am... Moving, deciding to move, stature in life, etc...
As you can see, I'm kinda losing my head over it. And it feels good. I feel utterly human again.
I feel utterly human again. After three and a half long months of complete stress and depression and alienation, I feel human again.
(Listen to the new Mountain Goats album, specifically the song "Autoclave" and you'll know what I mean. Its a pop gem, something I'd never thought I'd say about a Mountain Goats song. And describes exactly what I felt like.)
...
Like I said, its spring here, but you'd hardly know it. But I feel it. So, so soon, and then summer, and then out.
And I really, really, really like a girl again. It feels good.
And she likes me.
Yes!
...
I sent her one of the best text messages I have ever conceived. The kind that fall into the "Should I send this, or not? category." Text messages are funny sometimes.
It read, "You should just assume that I want to hang out with you every night before you go. But I understand you got stuff to take care of. Just sayin'."
...
I didn't think I was really ready for this, but here I go, go ga-ga for a girl again.
...
Ps. In honor of our lovely, Spring, snowy weather, I shaved off the mutton chops. I can see my face again. Those thing were thicker and longer than I've ever grown before, and also very annoying lately. I look ten years younger. Still got it!
And I'm verily seriously considering growing a mustache, a moo-stash, if you will. Its something I once swore I would never do, certain patriarchal reasons (He's had one forever). But I have snapped photos of one on my face when shaving the rare full beard I grow. And then destroyed them immediately. In a great fire.
But I think I'm ready to cross that line, jump that hurdle. Too many people today have bemoaned the loss of the chops.
I mean, they'll grow back, really.
But a mustache? A genuine mustache! Some guys can pull it off. I'm not sure I have the inner strength. Maybe I should wait until the girl moves away, before pulling something like that on her. Although, she did accept me, chops and all...
Where is my mind?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
It Ain't You, Babe
I asked for her number, though I knew full well that I would never actually call her. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the next logical step, though actually it was a useless gesture. I think I asked for the number for the only reason that it was probably good practice for me, for when I actually find someone worth spending time with...
I mean, I got the vibe that there was very little interest on her part, and as for my side of the story, I'll admit the whole night before seemed very awkward.
...
So imagine my surprise when I received a text message later that week, at roughly 1:45 in the AM.
I'm no stranger to late night drunken texts. In my experience they pretty much point to one inevitable conclusion, that one is looking for a booty call of some kind. Though that wasn't the subject matter of the text, which extended to include several more texts that night, it did get me to thinking... thinking that I was going to ask this person to go out, on a date, of some sort, drinks...
In the back of my head I knew I shouldn't have done asked her out, but I figured, why not? I need a diversion, some fun, and perhaps this might lead somewhere... There was an inkling of hope stirring somewhere in my head, and I should have stopped it, a bud to nip.
But really I wasn't thinking that at all.
Why is it whenever someone shows the slightest bit of interest in me, that I suddenly find myself like fifty times more interested in them?
So we decided on drinks for the following day, something I considered a "date," i.e. two strangers agreeing to meet in some public place for the purpose of conversing and possibly arranging some kind of sexual contract (or relationship) for the future, assuming the "date" goes well and leads to another "date."
The next day would prove to be one of thee worst "dates" I've ever been on.
...
We met at the pub for some drinks. She was sitting with two other ladies, one of which looked awfully familiar to me, though I couldn't quite place the face. After the awkward introductions, it became quite apparent who the familiar girl was, especially when she asked, "Don't you know SS?" SS being my ex-fiance, and this girl being one of her close friends. The date girl then turns to me and says she knows her family, and I replied, "that's nice..." My jaw should have dropped just then, but I decided it was better to drink the beer in front of me as fast as possible. So instead my inner-jaw dropped, and I almost started to devise escape plans, which I should have done considering how the rest of the evening was to pan out.
After I paid for our beers (she was/is broke until next month), we decided to drive around and listen to her favorite musician, very reminiscent of the night we met, though this time we were far more sober. Then to her place for some wine, and more music, her favorite musician, and a long conversation concerning the ex, Christianity and her celibate, Jesus-loving lifestyle, and her favorite musician. Not my favorite subjects, but there were good thoughts being passed back and forth, even though it became quite clear that this was not a date at all, just two friends chilling and talking, at least according to her...
I figured it out, and thought, well, ok, at least I'm out and about and in an socially awkward situation, out of my shell and conversing with a member of the opposite sex. Though I did feel a little lead on, I figured I would just play it cool and enjoy this persons company.
...
After the wine was gone, we drove to a house party, where I found myself sitting on a couch watching a drunken ping-pong match, alone, as the girl decided to engage herself in conversation with two separate dudes. It was then I realized what a great flirt this girl was. She got mad skills, and I could see the looks on the guys faces as they fell for it, just like I did. Maybe they wondered who the weird dude was that walked in with her, but usually most guys tend to focus on the girl in front of them, just as they did.
I started to question it all then, in between cans of PBR and the two joints being passed around, what was I still doing there? I could have left at any time. But some sick part of me wanted to see it through to the very end. That and there was free beer in front of me, and I figured that would be enough for now.
We then left the party and headed to the The Bar for another beer, the scene of the crime, our original meeting. There she informed me one of her former make-out partners was there, and decided to talk with him for most of the evening. Which was fine by me, because an old friend happened to be there, in town for a visit, and I got to catch up with her.
As it came time to leave, she mentioned that she would be giving the other dude a ride home, which I figured was cool. She then suggested we go back to her place, the three of us, to hang out and drink more, and for some reason I suggested I pick up the sparse amount of booze that I have chilling on top of the fridge.
We arrived at my place, and I grabbed the booze, and made a pit stop, and walked back out to the car. I opened the door and suddenly became fifteen years old again. There dude was, suddenly in the front seat making out furiously with girl, and again my jaw dropped. I grabbed my bag as they both laughed hysterically, and I said "goodnight" and walked away.
Even though I knew the pretenses of the situation, knew it was "not a date," knew this girl was total trouble, I fell for it anyway, and I kicked myself for that little glimmer of hope I had, before the evening even began.
I considered it the worst date ever, that is, until I spoke with roommate about it, and she gave me some perspective.
Even if it was a date, or wasn't, this girl was just out for fun, being young and drunk and flirting and fucking around. That's what she wanted. Perhaps I had different expectations. Either way, it was a successful date, quite successful. Realizing that it never would have worked out right from the get-go. So much time was not wasted. That it was a good experience, helping me to get my crazy radar fine-tuned, getting experience in knowing what to not look for.
Part of me is still a little miffed. At least I didn't go nuts and break stuff like my old roommate. Instead I drifted off to sleep, listening to a wonderful album.
...
Oh, crap-tacular world of dating. Perhaps I'm not ready to get involved with this stuff again.
At least it makes for a good story.
I mean, I got the vibe that there was very little interest on her part, and as for my side of the story, I'll admit the whole night before seemed very awkward.
...
So imagine my surprise when I received a text message later that week, at roughly 1:45 in the AM.
I'm no stranger to late night drunken texts. In my experience they pretty much point to one inevitable conclusion, that one is looking for a booty call of some kind. Though that wasn't the subject matter of the text, which extended to include several more texts that night, it did get me to thinking... thinking that I was going to ask this person to go out, on a date, of some sort, drinks...
In the back of my head I knew I shouldn't have done asked her out, but I figured, why not? I need a diversion, some fun, and perhaps this might lead somewhere... There was an inkling of hope stirring somewhere in my head, and I should have stopped it, a bud to nip.
But really I wasn't thinking that at all.
Why is it whenever someone shows the slightest bit of interest in me, that I suddenly find myself like fifty times more interested in them?
So we decided on drinks for the following day, something I considered a "date," i.e. two strangers agreeing to meet in some public place for the purpose of conversing and possibly arranging some kind of sexual contract (or relationship) for the future, assuming the "date" goes well and leads to another "date."
The next day would prove to be one of thee worst "dates" I've ever been on.
...
We met at the pub for some drinks. She was sitting with two other ladies, one of which looked awfully familiar to me, though I couldn't quite place the face. After the awkward introductions, it became quite apparent who the familiar girl was, especially when she asked, "Don't you know SS?" SS being my ex-fiance, and this girl being one of her close friends. The date girl then turns to me and says she knows her family, and I replied, "that's nice..." My jaw should have dropped just then, but I decided it was better to drink the beer in front of me as fast as possible. So instead my inner-jaw dropped, and I almost started to devise escape plans, which I should have done considering how the rest of the evening was to pan out.
After I paid for our beers (she was/is broke until next month), we decided to drive around and listen to her favorite musician, very reminiscent of the night we met, though this time we were far more sober. Then to her place for some wine, and more music, her favorite musician, and a long conversation concerning the ex, Christianity and her celibate, Jesus-loving lifestyle, and her favorite musician. Not my favorite subjects, but there were good thoughts being passed back and forth, even though it became quite clear that this was not a date at all, just two friends chilling and talking, at least according to her...
I figured it out, and thought, well, ok, at least I'm out and about and in an socially awkward situation, out of my shell and conversing with a member of the opposite sex. Though I did feel a little lead on, I figured I would just play it cool and enjoy this persons company.
...
After the wine was gone, we drove to a house party, where I found myself sitting on a couch watching a drunken ping-pong match, alone, as the girl decided to engage herself in conversation with two separate dudes. It was then I realized what a great flirt this girl was. She got mad skills, and I could see the looks on the guys faces as they fell for it, just like I did. Maybe they wondered who the weird dude was that walked in with her, but usually most guys tend to focus on the girl in front of them, just as they did.
I started to question it all then, in between cans of PBR and the two joints being passed around, what was I still doing there? I could have left at any time. But some sick part of me wanted to see it through to the very end. That and there was free beer in front of me, and I figured that would be enough for now.
We then left the party and headed to the The Bar for another beer, the scene of the crime, our original meeting. There she informed me one of her former make-out partners was there, and decided to talk with him for most of the evening. Which was fine by me, because an old friend happened to be there, in town for a visit, and I got to catch up with her.
As it came time to leave, she mentioned that she would be giving the other dude a ride home, which I figured was cool. She then suggested we go back to her place, the three of us, to hang out and drink more, and for some reason I suggested I pick up the sparse amount of booze that I have chilling on top of the fridge.
We arrived at my place, and I grabbed the booze, and made a pit stop, and walked back out to the car. I opened the door and suddenly became fifteen years old again. There dude was, suddenly in the front seat making out furiously with girl, and again my jaw dropped. I grabbed my bag as they both laughed hysterically, and I said "goodnight" and walked away.
Even though I knew the pretenses of the situation, knew it was "not a date," knew this girl was total trouble, I fell for it anyway, and I kicked myself for that little glimmer of hope I had, before the evening even began.
I considered it the worst date ever, that is, until I spoke with roommate about it, and she gave me some perspective.
Even if it was a date, or wasn't, this girl was just out for fun, being young and drunk and flirting and fucking around. That's what she wanted. Perhaps I had different expectations. Either way, it was a successful date, quite successful. Realizing that it never would have worked out right from the get-go. So much time was not wasted. That it was a good experience, helping me to get my crazy radar fine-tuned, getting experience in knowing what to not look for.
Part of me is still a little miffed. At least I didn't go nuts and break stuff like my old roommate. Instead I drifted off to sleep, listening to a wonderful album.
...
Oh, crap-tacular world of dating. Perhaps I'm not ready to get involved with this stuff again.
At least it makes for a good story.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The Great To-Do!
I woke up and went about my morning ritual of the blessed day off. Make coffee, smoke cigarettes, practice the songs... As I putzed around the kitchen I noticed it there, the to-do list, written specifically for me, written by my roommate.
...
Jozka's Thursday to-do list:
-Read/edit recipe book
-Take a walk
-Write a song
-Go to the movies
-Stroll through a used bookstore
-Talk to a stranger
-Eat ice cream outside
-Take a nap
-Go out to the bar
...
I thought the idea was brilliant. Knowing when someone has an upcoming day off, free of most chores or responsibilities (my days off are mostly that way), write a to-do list for them, a little adventure for someone else on their day off.
I found especially thoughtful, considering the night before I came home from the bar in a dismal state of mind, having just drank away two hours of my life, sitting alone at the The Bar, writing feverishly in my notebook.
Yes, I am that guy at the bar.
Sometimes...
My emotions were out of order again. She commented I had come home early, and I rambled on and on, nearly on the verge of tears...
...
I accomplished a fair amount of the list. I did some editing on the book during breakfast. The book has been getting a very positive response from the community. My roommate is being interviewed by the Detroit paper sometime this weekend. The sponsor of the book has already pre-ordered six hundred copies.
After breakfast, I perused a used book store, and picked up a copy of Kafka's Metamorphosis, upon someone's suggestion. Then I stopped by the local mart to pick-up some toothpaste and ant traps, and then I stopped by the ice cream parlor and had me an ice cream cone as I walked around town, eventually settling in this little park I have a strange fondness for, and ate my treat.
The weather has been completely stellar today. Sunlight, fifty degrees! No coat weather! I'll admit I've entered the last stage of winter, utter and complete insanity. It is so close to ending, I cannot stand it.
Two friends passed by the park, and came over to say hi to me as I ate my ice cream. They were walking with a cell phone that was playing some sort of jazzy, easy listening tunes, that they were dancing to. So I stood up and joined them, three people dancing wildly in the middle of a park right in the heart of downtown. Many of the people that passed us by gave us odd looks. I say, to hell with you. Its finally somewhat decent outside, and we're gonna dance to celebrate it.
I bid them adieu and made my way home, when an old friend called me to invite me out for a beer. I almost said that according to my list I needed to take a nap, but then remembered the "go to the bar" item, and figured, hey, its on the list. Why not?
Plus, I hardly see my old friends anymore, and I thought it necessary to try to connect in some way again.
She's getting a divorce. And they weren't even married that long. I think they were engaged a little before I was... Sad. The great marriage rush and crush of 07' claims another victim. Why are all my friends ending relationships now? I still cannot determine the cause of this curse.
We then discussed the "slut phase" we seem to be going through, the urge for sex coursing through our veins. She's been a little more successful than I in that matter, and we traded stories. I'll admit, for a brief second I wondered about her motives for asking me out for a beer, half-hoping, half not, but then remembered our old vow we made together, that we would never sleep with each other.
Anyway, we parted after a couple beers and as I ventured home, I was trying to figure out the best way to approach a stranger. Usually they seem to find me, and I mean the really strange strangers. I did manage to get stopped by a somewhat disheveled man, asking for a cigarette. I offered him my pouch of tobacco, which usually foils most bummers of cigarettes, but he then asked me to roll one for him, which I did.
I figured now was the time to talk to a stranger, so I started asking him questions. His name is Lloyd, and he was having a really bad day. I thought he might have been fucked up on drugs or drunk or something, his eyes were red... but then he started crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. A younger me probably would have hugged him. Instead I handed him the cigarette and wished him a better evening. He said I had his brother's name, said he would have a better night, and walked off.
Dear Lloyd, I really hope you are having a better evening.
Then I went home to fulfill that nap part of the list, and fulfill it I did.
...
Ps. I have deposited the ant traps in strategic locations around the bathroom. I'm assuming the ants must have some kind of military intelligence working for them. I mean, if all of a sudden a giant black box showed up outside my front door, with a sign on it that said "food" and an arrow pointing inwards, I'd probably investigate it, but I wouldn't go in there either. I've been watching them dance around it, but then continue on their merry way.
I've also noticed them carting off the dead corpses that I had left stuck to the wall, much like a skull on a stick, that I had wanted to be a warning to them... They eat their dead! Thank god ants aren't like totally huge. We'd be goners.
...
Jozka's Thursday to-do list:
-Read/edit recipe book
-Take a walk
-Write a song
-Go to the movies
-Stroll through a used bookstore
-Talk to a stranger
-Eat ice cream outside
-Take a nap
-Go out to the bar
...
I thought the idea was brilliant. Knowing when someone has an upcoming day off, free of most chores or responsibilities (my days off are mostly that way), write a to-do list for them, a little adventure for someone else on their day off.
I found especially thoughtful, considering the night before I came home from the bar in a dismal state of mind, having just drank away two hours of my life, sitting alone at the The Bar, writing feverishly in my notebook.
Yes, I am that guy at the bar.
Sometimes...
My emotions were out of order again. She commented I had come home early, and I rambled on and on, nearly on the verge of tears...
...
I accomplished a fair amount of the list. I did some editing on the book during breakfast. The book has been getting a very positive response from the community. My roommate is being interviewed by the Detroit paper sometime this weekend. The sponsor of the book has already pre-ordered six hundred copies.
After breakfast, I perused a used book store, and picked up a copy of Kafka's Metamorphosis, upon someone's suggestion. Then I stopped by the local mart to pick-up some toothpaste and ant traps, and then I stopped by the ice cream parlor and had me an ice cream cone as I walked around town, eventually settling in this little park I have a strange fondness for, and ate my treat.
The weather has been completely stellar today. Sunlight, fifty degrees! No coat weather! I'll admit I've entered the last stage of winter, utter and complete insanity. It is so close to ending, I cannot stand it.
Two friends passed by the park, and came over to say hi to me as I ate my ice cream. They were walking with a cell phone that was playing some sort of jazzy, easy listening tunes, that they were dancing to. So I stood up and joined them, three people dancing wildly in the middle of a park right in the heart of downtown. Many of the people that passed us by gave us odd looks. I say, to hell with you. Its finally somewhat decent outside, and we're gonna dance to celebrate it.
I bid them adieu and made my way home, when an old friend called me to invite me out for a beer. I almost said that according to my list I needed to take a nap, but then remembered the "go to the bar" item, and figured, hey, its on the list. Why not?
Plus, I hardly see my old friends anymore, and I thought it necessary to try to connect in some way again.
She's getting a divorce. And they weren't even married that long. I think they were engaged a little before I was... Sad. The great marriage rush and crush of 07' claims another victim. Why are all my friends ending relationships now? I still cannot determine the cause of this curse.
We then discussed the "slut phase" we seem to be going through, the urge for sex coursing through our veins. She's been a little more successful than I in that matter, and we traded stories. I'll admit, for a brief second I wondered about her motives for asking me out for a beer, half-hoping, half not, but then remembered our old vow we made together, that we would never sleep with each other.
Anyway, we parted after a couple beers and as I ventured home, I was trying to figure out the best way to approach a stranger. Usually they seem to find me, and I mean the really strange strangers. I did manage to get stopped by a somewhat disheveled man, asking for a cigarette. I offered him my pouch of tobacco, which usually foils most bummers of cigarettes, but he then asked me to roll one for him, which I did.
I figured now was the time to talk to a stranger, so I started asking him questions. His name is Lloyd, and he was having a really bad day. I thought he might have been fucked up on drugs or drunk or something, his eyes were red... but then he started crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. A younger me probably would have hugged him. Instead I handed him the cigarette and wished him a better evening. He said I had his brother's name, said he would have a better night, and walked off.
Dear Lloyd, I really hope you are having a better evening.
Then I went home to fulfill that nap part of the list, and fulfill it I did.
...
Ps. I have deposited the ant traps in strategic locations around the bathroom. I'm assuming the ants must have some kind of military intelligence working for them. I mean, if all of a sudden a giant black box showed up outside my front door, with a sign on it that said "food" and an arrow pointing inwards, I'd probably investigate it, but I wouldn't go in there either. I've been watching them dance around it, but then continue on their merry way.
I've also noticed them carting off the dead corpses that I had left stuck to the wall, much like a skull on a stick, that I had wanted to be a warning to them... They eat their dead! Thank god ants aren't like totally huge. We'd be goners.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Take This, Confusatron! Spiller, you Weasel!
We are currently working on a movie script. By currently, I mean we have just decided tonight that roommate and I are going to make a movie of some sort, a short film possibly, though the subject matter has not officially been set yet, but we are discussing various themes, the most promising of which is about humans that develop super powers, but the powers are not actually super in any kind of way.
In fact, they are super powers, but of the lowest degree possible, in the most useless of manner, such as a super hero by the name of the Procrastinator, someone whose super power is to simply put things off to the nth degree. Imagine sitting around the Halls of Justice, in the Justice League, and some emergency situation pops up, and everyone runs around frantic, and then flies off to deal with such a situation, and there sits the Procrastinator, at the large, round table, mumbling to himself, "I'll be there in just a minute... I gotta do this other thing first..."
Or the Excusinator, someone that has the perfect excuse for any situation.
Or perhaps the Exact-Changinator, someone who continually, always has exact change in whatever situation when that person happens to be buying something.
Or the Conversation Stopper, who always, whenever they speak aloud in a group setting, always ends whatever conversation they happen to be taking part of... (example - "Old men give the best handjobs..." or, "If she had a problem with it, she should have woken up!" Crickets chirping follows, or perhaps the record scratch.)
Or the Filler, someone who can always fill up some kind of container, but with something entirely different than the container would originally contain, with something entirely useless.
...
Note- these ideas are copy righted, because I said so. Anyone stealing these ideas shall be punished by Jesus.
No doubt!
...
You get the idea.
...
In other news, rumors abound around the workplace. There may be a shift in management concerning my particular section of the restaurant.
This does not bode well, and we of the basement are finding ourselves in that quiet whispering stage just before the mutiny really gets riled up.
I'm not too concerned yet, as anything could really happen at this point. Its in our collective nature to worry and then bitch about things that could potentially change the circumstances surrounding our jobs, both positive and negative circumstances...
In some way I hope it gets even worse. Perhaps this could be the catalyst that really makes me up and change my situation in life, that finally propels me to leave my complacency behind, and actually make the changes I need to.
...
And tonight I successfully navigated, yet another, potentially awkward situation concerning a member of the opposite sex.
I know I'm still bruised, abused and confused concerning matters of my heart, and my recent re-emerging sex drive doesn't help that situation. Some days it literally screams through me. Takes over the thought process.
Actually there was no situation concerning a member of the opposite sex tonight. She didn't come out tonight, or at least that I witnessed with my eyes, even though a friend told me she was. A sort of set-up, in my favor. It didn't happen. It was just the thoughts in my head that I conquered.
That strange hope one sometimes gets in their head before venturing to the bar, that tonight, tonight will be the night I magically meet someone of real, sincere, genuine interest...
The thoughts that suggested my most, recent crush would be out and about tonight...
I let the thoughts go before entering the bar. No expectations = no bad results. Just another night out with some friends, and booze, and entertaining discussions concerning some not-so-super heroes.
It was a good night.
Besides, most recent crush is leaving in three weeks from this town for good. In some devilish way that only adds to it. Because at the moment, that equals safe to me. It will end, and I know when it will end = no unexpected let downs. A brief, passionate embrace that may actually restore my faith in female kind. No strings-attached sex for a little while, and romance, yes...
Then we shake hands and say goodbye, good luck, nice knowing you, and it will actually be a positive thing... Hey, we had this time, it was fun, I hope for better things for you.
...
Because, at this moment I can't seem to think that, nor say that to her.
...
In truth, I should probably be more concerned with other things... But goddamn, sex is a powerful force, isn't it?
And not just sex, but the hope for love. And the sex that comes with it...
I crave intimacy. I want to hold someone in my arms again, sleep next to someone again... wake up with bad breath next to someone again, and yes, sex-up someone again.
But really, the barriers are way up. Defenses are on red-alert. I've got some re-learning to do.
And I'm drunk and psycho-babbling again.
Sigh. I'll get this big, old, empty head of mine straight again, one of these days.
In fact, they are super powers, but of the lowest degree possible, in the most useless of manner, such as a super hero by the name of the Procrastinator, someone whose super power is to simply put things off to the nth degree. Imagine sitting around the Halls of Justice, in the Justice League, and some emergency situation pops up, and everyone runs around frantic, and then flies off to deal with such a situation, and there sits the Procrastinator, at the large, round table, mumbling to himself, "I'll be there in just a minute... I gotta do this other thing first..."
Or the Excusinator, someone that has the perfect excuse for any situation.
Or perhaps the Exact-Changinator, someone who continually, always has exact change in whatever situation when that person happens to be buying something.
Or the Conversation Stopper, who always, whenever they speak aloud in a group setting, always ends whatever conversation they happen to be taking part of... (example - "Old men give the best handjobs..." or, "If she had a problem with it, she should have woken up!" Crickets chirping follows, or perhaps the record scratch.)
Or the Filler, someone who can always fill up some kind of container, but with something entirely different than the container would originally contain, with something entirely useless.
...
Note- these ideas are copy righted, because I said so. Anyone stealing these ideas shall be punished by Jesus.
No doubt!
...
You get the idea.
...
In other news, rumors abound around the workplace. There may be a shift in management concerning my particular section of the restaurant.
This does not bode well, and we of the basement are finding ourselves in that quiet whispering stage just before the mutiny really gets riled up.
I'm not too concerned yet, as anything could really happen at this point. Its in our collective nature to worry and then bitch about things that could potentially change the circumstances surrounding our jobs, both positive and negative circumstances...
In some way I hope it gets even worse. Perhaps this could be the catalyst that really makes me up and change my situation in life, that finally propels me to leave my complacency behind, and actually make the changes I need to.
...
And tonight I successfully navigated, yet another, potentially awkward situation concerning a member of the opposite sex.
I know I'm still bruised, abused and confused concerning matters of my heart, and my recent re-emerging sex drive doesn't help that situation. Some days it literally screams through me. Takes over the thought process.
Actually there was no situation concerning a member of the opposite sex tonight. She didn't come out tonight, or at least that I witnessed with my eyes, even though a friend told me she was. A sort of set-up, in my favor. It didn't happen. It was just the thoughts in my head that I conquered.
That strange hope one sometimes gets in their head before venturing to the bar, that tonight, tonight will be the night I magically meet someone of real, sincere, genuine interest...
The thoughts that suggested my most, recent crush would be out and about tonight...
I let the thoughts go before entering the bar. No expectations = no bad results. Just another night out with some friends, and booze, and entertaining discussions concerning some not-so-super heroes.
It was a good night.
Besides, most recent crush is leaving in three weeks from this town for good. In some devilish way that only adds to it. Because at the moment, that equals safe to me. It will end, and I know when it will end = no unexpected let downs. A brief, passionate embrace that may actually restore my faith in female kind. No strings-attached sex for a little while, and romance, yes...
Then we shake hands and say goodbye, good luck, nice knowing you, and it will actually be a positive thing... Hey, we had this time, it was fun, I hope for better things for you.
...
Because, at this moment I can't seem to think that, nor say that to her.
...
In truth, I should probably be more concerned with other things... But goddamn, sex is a powerful force, isn't it?
And not just sex, but the hope for love. And the sex that comes with it...
I crave intimacy. I want to hold someone in my arms again, sleep next to someone again... wake up with bad breath next to someone again, and yes, sex-up someone again.
But really, the barriers are way up. Defenses are on red-alert. I've got some re-learning to do.
And I'm drunk and psycho-babbling again.
Sigh. I'll get this big, old, empty head of mine straight again, one of these days.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
You, or Your Memory
I've been mulling over the concept of memory. Specifically wondering about memory in relation to weight, as if all the memories in our brains, all of the specific moments in time we consider to be a "memory," the filing cabinets in our brains overflowing with bits of information we drudge up from time to time; what do they weigh?
One of my creative writing teachers loved using the term "psychic weight," in order to describe various important moments in stories. Its a term that's always stuck with me.
...
I suppose its because I said goodbye to yet another old and close friend this weekend. Yet another person that made this town as lovable as it is for me, has wandered away to the next stage of her journey through life.
We sort of drifted apart over the last few years, though at one time I would have considered us very close. We were even intimate, a very long time ago, what seems like another lifetime, something we still joked about to this very day.
We also used to spend an absurd amount of time going to various bars around town, including the The Bar, which of all the places we used to frequent, stood the test of time, as being one of the last bars to still be around, that didn't change in some way, didn't close down.
...
I was sitting on a stool, feeling suddenly drunk after the shot I had just taken, watching the people all around the bar, the friends gathered around the table. I looked at all the photographs on the walls of various musical acts that had once graced our bar, the same photographs I've looked at for years. Suddenly I grew very tired, and felt the weight. The weight of all the memories I've had from going to the The Bar night after night. The psychic weight of all the people I've met, girls kissed, friends hugged and beer bottles clinked, crazy drunken antics inside the bar, outside on the railroad tracks, tears shed, goodbye parties thrown (there's been quite a few of these lately), bands I've seen, dancing I've done, or even the times I don't remember because I was so drunk...
I made my goodbyes quickly and without warning, and I left the celebration early. Along the walk home, I looked around at the various houses, thought of a lot of the places in town that I know, that I've been in, restaurants eaten at, all of it, all of it with some kind of memory of the time that this happened, or when I was going through this particularly dark time of life, or when I was really happy and content...
All of those moments. I know these memories are all in my head, but sometimes I wonder if somehow they impact the place where they happen. Leave some sort of particle dusting, an iota of something important happened here, that maybe other people can somehow pick up on. Then I thought about the weight of it all, and how so much happens all the time, at every moment, during every second; its just my perception of it, where I was when that thing happened.
...
I've said goodbye to so many people lately. Good people that I will miss, that in some sort of jealousy and selfishness I do not want to leave, even though I know they must do it for themselves, because they need to grow.
...
I've also been brooding about other things, which again, pertain to memory. But I won't go into that right now. I'm late for my cartoons.
...
Thanks for that extra hour of sunlight. My brain hasn't fully switched over yet, but it made a huge difference. One more small step to the inevitably, coming Spring.
One of my creative writing teachers loved using the term "psychic weight," in order to describe various important moments in stories. Its a term that's always stuck with me.
...
I suppose its because I said goodbye to yet another old and close friend this weekend. Yet another person that made this town as lovable as it is for me, has wandered away to the next stage of her journey through life.
We sort of drifted apart over the last few years, though at one time I would have considered us very close. We were even intimate, a very long time ago, what seems like another lifetime, something we still joked about to this very day.
We also used to spend an absurd amount of time going to various bars around town, including the The Bar, which of all the places we used to frequent, stood the test of time, as being one of the last bars to still be around, that didn't change in some way, didn't close down.
...
I was sitting on a stool, feeling suddenly drunk after the shot I had just taken, watching the people all around the bar, the friends gathered around the table. I looked at all the photographs on the walls of various musical acts that had once graced our bar, the same photographs I've looked at for years. Suddenly I grew very tired, and felt the weight. The weight of all the memories I've had from going to the The Bar night after night. The psychic weight of all the people I've met, girls kissed, friends hugged and beer bottles clinked, crazy drunken antics inside the bar, outside on the railroad tracks, tears shed, goodbye parties thrown (there's been quite a few of these lately), bands I've seen, dancing I've done, or even the times I don't remember because I was so drunk...
I made my goodbyes quickly and without warning, and I left the celebration early. Along the walk home, I looked around at the various houses, thought of a lot of the places in town that I know, that I've been in, restaurants eaten at, all of it, all of it with some kind of memory of the time that this happened, or when I was going through this particularly dark time of life, or when I was really happy and content...
All of those moments. I know these memories are all in my head, but sometimes I wonder if somehow they impact the place where they happen. Leave some sort of particle dusting, an iota of something important happened here, that maybe other people can somehow pick up on. Then I thought about the weight of it all, and how so much happens all the time, at every moment, during every second; its just my perception of it, where I was when that thing happened.
...
I've said goodbye to so many people lately. Good people that I will miss, that in some sort of jealousy and selfishness I do not want to leave, even though I know they must do it for themselves, because they need to grow.
...
I've also been brooding about other things, which again, pertain to memory. But I won't go into that right now. I'm late for my cartoons.
...
Thanks for that extra hour of sunlight. My brain hasn't fully switched over yet, but it made a huge difference. One more small step to the inevitably, coming Spring.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Not so Quiet on the Western Shower Curtain Rod Front
The ants continue their assault. They apparently have established a small outpost, in the metal plate that holds up one of the ends of the shower curtain rod.
I spotted three of the winged variety hanging out just outside the safety of their outpost. I smashed them with a wad of toilet paper, and dropped it in the toilet.
For some inexplicable reason, the new toilet paper my roommate purchased (mental note, must reimburse), floats on the toilet water. Thus creating a slow, obvious, imminent, tortuous death for the ants that I grab with said toilet paper, and then drop into the bowl to watch their frantic scurrying as their small, floating island eventually sinks, leading to a watery death.
I typically do not delight in killing any sort of creature, whether it be ant or spider, yes, even the bugs. But these ants have violated the terms of our agreement. They are trespassing on my borders. They sit for hours on my bottle of mouthwash. I have just spotted two in my room.
Also they seem to know my face now. After I killed the three winged ones, I noticed two peeking their heads out of their little outpost. As I swooped in with another piece of toilet paper, they quickly ducked back inside. Then, I swear, one quickly poked his head out, as if laughing at me, and then ducked back inside.
So then I sprayed it with Formula 409. It seemed to kill some of the ants that I sprayed as I miraculously did some cleaning in the bathroom.
I don't clean bathrooms. Often.
But it was kinda bad. And if grossness finally appalls me enough for me to resort to cleaning, you gotta know it was kinda bad.
I'm surprised roommate didn't budge first. She is a lady after all.
...
In a very good mood tonight. Worked on some promising lyrics after work. The sun was out today. In fact, I spent a great deal of time outdoors at work, smoking a little too often. There wasn't much work to be done, and I didn't feel guilty one bit. How can I possibly be expected to work when the sun is shining?
Besides, another great snow storm is headed this way this weekend.
I really hope this is my last Michigan winter.
I spotted three of the winged variety hanging out just outside the safety of their outpost. I smashed them with a wad of toilet paper, and dropped it in the toilet.
For some inexplicable reason, the new toilet paper my roommate purchased (mental note, must reimburse), floats on the toilet water. Thus creating a slow, obvious, imminent, tortuous death for the ants that I grab with said toilet paper, and then drop into the bowl to watch their frantic scurrying as their small, floating island eventually sinks, leading to a watery death.
I typically do not delight in killing any sort of creature, whether it be ant or spider, yes, even the bugs. But these ants have violated the terms of our agreement. They are trespassing on my borders. They sit for hours on my bottle of mouthwash. I have just spotted two in my room.
Also they seem to know my face now. After I killed the three winged ones, I noticed two peeking their heads out of their little outpost. As I swooped in with another piece of toilet paper, they quickly ducked back inside. Then, I swear, one quickly poked his head out, as if laughing at me, and then ducked back inside.
So then I sprayed it with Formula 409. It seemed to kill some of the ants that I sprayed as I miraculously did some cleaning in the bathroom.
I don't clean bathrooms. Often.
But it was kinda bad. And if grossness finally appalls me enough for me to resort to cleaning, you gotta know it was kinda bad.
I'm surprised roommate didn't budge first. She is a lady after all.
...
In a very good mood tonight. Worked on some promising lyrics after work. The sun was out today. In fact, I spent a great deal of time outdoors at work, smoking a little too often. There wasn't much work to be done, and I didn't feel guilty one bit. How can I possibly be expected to work when the sun is shining?
Besides, another great snow storm is headed this way this weekend.
I really hope this is my last Michigan winter.
Currently, and Now!
After I pushed the publish button, I went out to the living room to roll up a cigarette. I heard the music ring out from the cell phone, not even a minute after posting. I had received a text message.
My psychic cry for attention paid off.
I flipped open the phone to reveal a text message from Squid, that simply read, "call TCB."
My first reaction was to panic, and to assume something has gone heinously wrong. Text messages can be deceiving that way. I remember a night out with S., amazingly without his attached-at-the-hip significant other (speaking of deceiving undertones, there is always a tension with me, concerning S. and his SO, mainly because they are that kind of couple, the type that cannot publicly function without the other in their presence. Man-time does not exist, or happens rarely. I'm used to it now, I accept it, the circumstances. That doesn't mean I'm always going to be quiet about it. I'm just sayin').
He happened to receive a text from B. and then stated simply, "I'm in trouble." I asked why, and he said, "the way she phrased her text, I know something is wrong, and I'm to blame. Its not the usual thing she says.."
Four texts later, an unspoken game had been played, each text he sent her was a reply with weighted undertones, trying to ascertain if she had indeed sent texts with weighted undertones as well.
I like how we do that, we try to read more into text messages than we actually could. Somehow this is all easier than actually calling the person to talk to them directly.
I digress.
So I called him immediately, trying to think of soothing phrases I could use depending on what the horrible news could be.
I recognized the blast of background noise right away. Lovejoys. My surrogate bar, the bar of my dreams. And drunken shouting, conversation, the sound of numerous beer glasses tinking.
Turns out my Austin friends were all drunk, and long story short, all proceeded to get on the phone and tell me to move my ass down south as soon as I could, which was so bittersweet. Squid puts a lot of pressure on me to do such a thing, but I understand, because I'm a stubborn fellow. She knows me, and knows I won't do such a thing unless I'm properly prodded.
I definitely need encouragement sometimes.
I was honestly just happy enough that they were thinking about me, drinking about me, missing me.
I got my attention fix...
And then went out to the bar here to sort of celebrate my friends' drunkenness. Luckily, there were some good peoples out at the bar tonight.
And now for another episode of Dexter before I go to sleep.
My psychic cry for attention paid off.
I flipped open the phone to reveal a text message from Squid, that simply read, "call TCB."
My first reaction was to panic, and to assume something has gone heinously wrong. Text messages can be deceiving that way. I remember a night out with S., amazingly without his attached-at-the-hip significant other (speaking of deceiving undertones, there is always a tension with me, concerning S. and his SO, mainly because they are that kind of couple, the type that cannot publicly function without the other in their presence. Man-time does not exist, or happens rarely. I'm used to it now, I accept it, the circumstances. That doesn't mean I'm always going to be quiet about it. I'm just sayin').
He happened to receive a text from B. and then stated simply, "I'm in trouble." I asked why, and he said, "the way she phrased her text, I know something is wrong, and I'm to blame. Its not the usual thing she says.."
Four texts later, an unspoken game had been played, each text he sent her was a reply with weighted undertones, trying to ascertain if she had indeed sent texts with weighted undertones as well.
I like how we do that, we try to read more into text messages than we actually could. Somehow this is all easier than actually calling the person to talk to them directly.
I digress.
So I called him immediately, trying to think of soothing phrases I could use depending on what the horrible news could be.
I recognized the blast of background noise right away. Lovejoys. My surrogate bar, the bar of my dreams. And drunken shouting, conversation, the sound of numerous beer glasses tinking.
Turns out my Austin friends were all drunk, and long story short, all proceeded to get on the phone and tell me to move my ass down south as soon as I could, which was so bittersweet. Squid puts a lot of pressure on me to do such a thing, but I understand, because I'm a stubborn fellow. She knows me, and knows I won't do such a thing unless I'm properly prodded.
I definitely need encouragement sometimes.
I was honestly just happy enough that they were thinking about me, drinking about me, missing me.
I got my attention fix...
And then went out to the bar here to sort of celebrate my friends' drunkenness. Luckily, there were some good peoples out at the bar tonight.
And now for another episode of Dexter before I go to sleep.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Things I am Doing, Currently
I feel as though my head has been in a fog all day. Currently I'm feeling restless, and listless, and can't seem to get myself to do much of anything except surf around the glorious internet and waste the idle time I have on my hands. Two hours have passed, and I realized I was sitting in my room, and the sunlight had faded, and the rest of the house is dark, except for the glow of the lap top screen on my face...
I went to the Local Diner for breakfast, and did some reading, though I read the words, none of it really sank in. It felt like my eyes were just swimming through the words. So I read the paper, feeling very much like someone just reading the paper, like its something I tend to do at a certain point in my day, even though I never read the newspaper.
There should be a word for the look on someone's face as they read the newspaper. Which is some how different than the face one makes as they read something else, like a novel, or a magazine.
...
I'm wishing the phone would ring, though with no one in particular on the other end, just some random person, or perhaps someone I know wanting to invite me out for a drink, for a walk, to do some kind of activity with me.
But I don't feel particularly lonely.
And I'm pretty sure the phone will not ring. Though I find myself picking it up from time to time, checking the display, half-hoping I will see that I have missed such a phone call.
I'm in a strange mood today.
I also feel like I'm craving attention, though I don't know why.
...
I'm drinking hazelnut-flavored coffee, which has long since gone cold, but I'm drinking it anyway. I purchased the coffee after breakfast, after I stopped by the bank to deposit my tax returns. $!
I contemplated going to sit in this little park downtown, one that holds old memories for me, but the snowfall of last night rendered most of the chairs unusable, and besides it is just cold enough to be unpleasant outside.
...
I find my attention span has been somewhat limited as of late. I find it hard to sit through an entire movie, no matter how engrossing it may be. Yet I can watch several hours worth of Tv shows, entire seasons in one day, back to back. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there is always another episode to watch, that the story will continue, it will not wrap itself up after an hour and a half and be over...
Currently I'm watching Dexter, which has completely absorbed me from the get-go. Which is surprising, because there are no spaceships, alien races, or explosions, but I do suppose it depicts the more bizarre aspects of our humanity. What monsters we as humans can be from time to time, each and everyone of us, not just the serial killers, (especially the serial killer with a heart of gold, that Dexter seems to be) (I'm only on episode six, so maybe things change...).
...
And I also had a strange urge last night, one I did not succumb to, a very overwhelming feeling of nostalgia.
I almost looked at the pictures of her. The ones embedded in the machinery and electricity of the hardware of this laptop. Or the ones stashed somewhere in one of the many boxes I never unpacked, in the six months I've lived here.
I can't seem to picture the face anymore, in my mind's eye. It appears all puzzle pieces from different puzzles, slapped together like a Picasso painting... There are other things I'm "forgetting," things I won't mention now.
These little relapses are growing farther and farther apart...
This is a good thing.
...
I'm also wishing I could throw all the windows open in this house, and have it been warm, fresh air circulating through... But that probably won't happen for another month or so.
I want to hear crickets. And whatever those bugs are that make that loud clacking noise during the hot summer nights.
...
I went to the Local Diner for breakfast, and did some reading, though I read the words, none of it really sank in. It felt like my eyes were just swimming through the words. So I read the paper, feeling very much like someone just reading the paper, like its something I tend to do at a certain point in my day, even though I never read the newspaper.
There should be a word for the look on someone's face as they read the newspaper. Which is some how different than the face one makes as they read something else, like a novel, or a magazine.
...
I'm wishing the phone would ring, though with no one in particular on the other end, just some random person, or perhaps someone I know wanting to invite me out for a drink, for a walk, to do some kind of activity with me.
But I don't feel particularly lonely.
And I'm pretty sure the phone will not ring. Though I find myself picking it up from time to time, checking the display, half-hoping I will see that I have missed such a phone call.
I'm in a strange mood today.
I also feel like I'm craving attention, though I don't know why.
...
I'm drinking hazelnut-flavored coffee, which has long since gone cold, but I'm drinking it anyway. I purchased the coffee after breakfast, after I stopped by the bank to deposit my tax returns. $!
I contemplated going to sit in this little park downtown, one that holds old memories for me, but the snowfall of last night rendered most of the chairs unusable, and besides it is just cold enough to be unpleasant outside.
...
I find my attention span has been somewhat limited as of late. I find it hard to sit through an entire movie, no matter how engrossing it may be. Yet I can watch several hours worth of Tv shows, entire seasons in one day, back to back. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there is always another episode to watch, that the story will continue, it will not wrap itself up after an hour and a half and be over...
Currently I'm watching Dexter, which has completely absorbed me from the get-go. Which is surprising, because there are no spaceships, alien races, or explosions, but I do suppose it depicts the more bizarre aspects of our humanity. What monsters we as humans can be from time to time, each and everyone of us, not just the serial killers, (especially the serial killer with a heart of gold, that Dexter seems to be) (I'm only on episode six, so maybe things change...).
...
And I also had a strange urge last night, one I did not succumb to, a very overwhelming feeling of nostalgia.
I almost looked at the pictures of her. The ones embedded in the machinery and electricity of the hardware of this laptop. Or the ones stashed somewhere in one of the many boxes I never unpacked, in the six months I've lived here.
I can't seem to picture the face anymore, in my mind's eye. It appears all puzzle pieces from different puzzles, slapped together like a Picasso painting... There are other things I'm "forgetting," things I won't mention now.
These little relapses are growing farther and farther apart...
This is a good thing.
...
I'm also wishing I could throw all the windows open in this house, and have it been warm, fresh air circulating through... But that probably won't happen for another month or so.
I want to hear crickets. And whatever those bugs are that make that loud clacking noise during the hot summer nights.
...
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Choosen Whiskey Over Jesus...
I made a girl cry today. Quite unintentional, and rightly astounding to me.
Someone in the band requested an original song that I had written, to use in our project. So I sang in front of them, my newest song, the Fortune Cookie song that I still can't manage to record onto a computer of some sort.
My throat clogged with nervous energy, as if my singing voice had lain dormant, like an atrophied muscle. I choked my way through it, and towards the end felt a little more reassured.
And it sounded totally awesome to have your own composition totally rocked out with a backing band.
After the third run through, my voice truer with each take, I looked over to the saxophone player who had tears running down her cheeks, explaining she had just finally caught all of the lyrics, how sad...
I think that's the best compliment I could have ever received. And I have been feeling futile about my attempts at song writing as of late.
...
Doesn't help that winter is currently working its magic, again, outside of my home, in the form of six to eight inches of snow falling freshly.
After a fifty plus degree day. When snow was melting away. The sun was shining...
Winter freak out! I'm going crazy!
...
The ants continue to send their scouts and scavengers through the hole in the shower.
I've dug into my foxhole, I'm taking cover, and have given up for the moment. Assuming its not terribly nasty tomorrow, I may go invest in some caulk.
I need to win this battle.
...
And tonight I shall bask in the Maker's Mark and all its glory. Tea and whiskey together are a beautiful combination, one that I have discovered is quite dangerous to have around the house. The whiskey part, that is.
Someone in the band requested an original song that I had written, to use in our project. So I sang in front of them, my newest song, the Fortune Cookie song that I still can't manage to record onto a computer of some sort.
My throat clogged with nervous energy, as if my singing voice had lain dormant, like an atrophied muscle. I choked my way through it, and towards the end felt a little more reassured.
And it sounded totally awesome to have your own composition totally rocked out with a backing band.
After the third run through, my voice truer with each take, I looked over to the saxophone player who had tears running down her cheeks, explaining she had just finally caught all of the lyrics, how sad...
I think that's the best compliment I could have ever received. And I have been feeling futile about my attempts at song writing as of late.
...
Doesn't help that winter is currently working its magic, again, outside of my home, in the form of six to eight inches of snow falling freshly.
After a fifty plus degree day. When snow was melting away. The sun was shining...
Winter freak out! I'm going crazy!
...
The ants continue to send their scouts and scavengers through the hole in the shower.
I've dug into my foxhole, I'm taking cover, and have given up for the moment. Assuming its not terribly nasty tomorrow, I may go invest in some caulk.
I need to win this battle.
...
And tonight I shall bask in the Maker's Mark and all its glory. Tea and whiskey together are a beautiful combination, one that I have discovered is quite dangerous to have around the house. The whiskey part, that is.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
The Moments Were Sweet, but All Wrong
Perhaps it is the Leap Year madness, an extra day that somehow throws the cosmos off balance, that interrupts our schedules, that has been leaking something unknown into the air...
Or perhaps its the stir-crazy feeling people seem to be going through, so looking forward to the end of this winter, the Spring hope welling up in our throats, this weather will break soon.
Today, sunshine and temperatures in the high forties. I left my scarf at home as I wandered about this evening.
...
Laser tag could quite possibly be my new obsession. I haven't played since the early nineties. It was a friend's birthday, and he opted for laser tag, ten of use huddled together in the black-lit room, glowing vests of blue and red, our teams eager with anticipation, somewhat drunk and stoned, ready to do battle in the dimly lit maze, our lasers blasting out furiously as we ran through the tunnels.
I'll admit I had terrible gas. Horrific gas, the likes of which I hath not dealt in a very long time. I didn't consume anything our of the ordinary. I do not know what brought it on, but it smelled like something rather large and heinous died in my ass. And it probably saved my life that night.
After the Laser tag we retired to a bar I don't typically frequent, and after cake and numerous drinks we ended up at the The Bar for last call. All roads lead to the The Bar these days. My friends went off to play darts, and suddenly I found myself alone at a table, watching the game go on.
It was then I was picked up by a lady at the bar. So unexpected.
I'll admit I've found myself at a loss in front of lady-folks again. Partly I feel like I've lost the language of it all, the language of putting myself out there, feeble attempts at flirting... Feeling crushes rise up within me again, my sex-drive slowly making itself known again.
Though my heart remains the voice of reason, still a little rough around the edges, the bruise healing in its own way.
I won't go into the sordid details, though I will say I found myself quite aware of the situation, and in some ways I let things go further than they should have, but I certainly did not let it get away from me. My crazy radar blipping like a submarine invasion on the sonar... I let things go on as they did, only because it felt like an adventure to me, and I wanted to see where it would lead. It was also the first time I have been intimate with a woman since the break up, and part of me felt selfish. I needed a win.
But the situation felt all wrong. I'll admit I felt a certain voyeuristic joy upon seeing a new girl's abode. The decorations in her room, the meaningful trinkets, the cd and book collection... But then there was the actions, laying in a strangers bed, the different fragrance of a woman, her kissing style. Something about it screamed "Danger! Danger! Will Robinson," and I left her house at four in the morning, much to her dismay. (She called me a dirty hippy! Me of all people! That was the last straw.)
But I did the right thing, before things got any more awkward and worse, much like I am imagining the morning after would have been. Especially with the gas I was having, cuz that morning, oh god, I wouldn't wish that on any of my numerous enemies. Plus, I realized that I've been in that place (not specifically her bed) before, and I think I much would have preferred those actions to mean something, beyond a dirty screw.
...
Then there was last night. Again I say, something in the air these days. People are going nuts. Same bar, different girl... Not the most meaningful of conversations, but something reacted in me, and I found myself wanting again. Wanting to try it out, to be bold, to see where this thing would go.
I tried my hand at flirting, putting myself out there, trying to be more assertive, though not aggressive. I most definitely am not aggressive in these situations, but sometimes the signals get crossed.
And sometimes you find a hand placed somewhere near your crotch unexpectedly, and a ripe, mischievous smile telling you that its all right...
Though I knew from the start this was probably not going to end in the best way either. I'll admit, she was most certainly attractive, and had breasts that reminded me of the first bare boobs I ever lay eyes on in the pages of my Dad's Playboys from the seventies. There's just something about ta-ta's from the seventies, their shape and form that get my blood all a boilin'.
Ahem.
My self-esteem certainly received a nice boost, that of all the dudes at the table, and in the bar, she chose me to release her affection on, but I could taste the fleetingness of it all.
The night did not go in the direction I'd rather it did, but probably it is for the best. She fell asleep on her couch, in the blanket intended for me, as I lay on the other end of the couch, her feet on my chest, and in my face. I slept unsoundly, my feet resting on the floor, which did some damage to my back. I'm still kind of laughing about it now.
Only minor awkwardness in the morning, though breakfast was intended, did not happen, which I only half wanted to go to anyway.
...
And right now I feel somewhat "stung." I coined this term early on in my sexual history, the feeling of enjoying the afterglow of some sort of new sexual situation with someone, that slowly fades after a good day or so, and is replaced with some sort of negative feeling, the "why didn't it mean more?" Or when you ask yourself the same question, but the emotions behind it take a 180 degree turn, like, "I can't believe that happened!!! Woo hoo!" and then a full day later thinking, "damn, I can't believe that happened... (negative undertones)" I don't know how else to describe it.
...
Still, I suppose its good practice for when I actually meet someone I would like to spend time with.
And, I still got it! After all these years...
Or perhaps its the stir-crazy feeling people seem to be going through, so looking forward to the end of this winter, the Spring hope welling up in our throats, this weather will break soon.
Today, sunshine and temperatures in the high forties. I left my scarf at home as I wandered about this evening.
...
Laser tag could quite possibly be my new obsession. I haven't played since the early nineties. It was a friend's birthday, and he opted for laser tag, ten of use huddled together in the black-lit room, glowing vests of blue and red, our teams eager with anticipation, somewhat drunk and stoned, ready to do battle in the dimly lit maze, our lasers blasting out furiously as we ran through the tunnels.
I'll admit I had terrible gas. Horrific gas, the likes of which I hath not dealt in a very long time. I didn't consume anything our of the ordinary. I do not know what brought it on, but it smelled like something rather large and heinous died in my ass. And it probably saved my life that night.
After the Laser tag we retired to a bar I don't typically frequent, and after cake and numerous drinks we ended up at the The Bar for last call. All roads lead to the The Bar these days. My friends went off to play darts, and suddenly I found myself alone at a table, watching the game go on.
It was then I was picked up by a lady at the bar. So unexpected.
I'll admit I've found myself at a loss in front of lady-folks again. Partly I feel like I've lost the language of it all, the language of putting myself out there, feeble attempts at flirting... Feeling crushes rise up within me again, my sex-drive slowly making itself known again.
Though my heart remains the voice of reason, still a little rough around the edges, the bruise healing in its own way.
I won't go into the sordid details, though I will say I found myself quite aware of the situation, and in some ways I let things go further than they should have, but I certainly did not let it get away from me. My crazy radar blipping like a submarine invasion on the sonar... I let things go on as they did, only because it felt like an adventure to me, and I wanted to see where it would lead. It was also the first time I have been intimate with a woman since the break up, and part of me felt selfish. I needed a win.
But the situation felt all wrong. I'll admit I felt a certain voyeuristic joy upon seeing a new girl's abode. The decorations in her room, the meaningful trinkets, the cd and book collection... But then there was the actions, laying in a strangers bed, the different fragrance of a woman, her kissing style. Something about it screamed "Danger! Danger! Will Robinson," and I left her house at four in the morning, much to her dismay. (She called me a dirty hippy! Me of all people! That was the last straw.)
But I did the right thing, before things got any more awkward and worse, much like I am imagining the morning after would have been. Especially with the gas I was having, cuz that morning, oh god, I wouldn't wish that on any of my numerous enemies. Plus, I realized that I've been in that place (not specifically her bed) before, and I think I much would have preferred those actions to mean something, beyond a dirty screw.
...
Then there was last night. Again I say, something in the air these days. People are going nuts. Same bar, different girl... Not the most meaningful of conversations, but something reacted in me, and I found myself wanting again. Wanting to try it out, to be bold, to see where this thing would go.
I tried my hand at flirting, putting myself out there, trying to be more assertive, though not aggressive. I most definitely am not aggressive in these situations, but sometimes the signals get crossed.
And sometimes you find a hand placed somewhere near your crotch unexpectedly, and a ripe, mischievous smile telling you that its all right...
Though I knew from the start this was probably not going to end in the best way either. I'll admit, she was most certainly attractive, and had breasts that reminded me of the first bare boobs I ever lay eyes on in the pages of my Dad's Playboys from the seventies. There's just something about ta-ta's from the seventies, their shape and form that get my blood all a boilin'.
Ahem.
My self-esteem certainly received a nice boost, that of all the dudes at the table, and in the bar, she chose me to release her affection on, but I could taste the fleetingness of it all.
The night did not go in the direction I'd rather it did, but probably it is for the best. She fell asleep on her couch, in the blanket intended for me, as I lay on the other end of the couch, her feet on my chest, and in my face. I slept unsoundly, my feet resting on the floor, which did some damage to my back. I'm still kind of laughing about it now.
Only minor awkwardness in the morning, though breakfast was intended, did not happen, which I only half wanted to go to anyway.
...
And right now I feel somewhat "stung." I coined this term early on in my sexual history, the feeling of enjoying the afterglow of some sort of new sexual situation with someone, that slowly fades after a good day or so, and is replaced with some sort of negative feeling, the "why didn't it mean more?" Or when you ask yourself the same question, but the emotions behind it take a 180 degree turn, like, "I can't believe that happened!!! Woo hoo!" and then a full day later thinking, "damn, I can't believe that happened... (negative undertones)" I don't know how else to describe it.
...
Still, I suppose its good practice for when I actually meet someone I would like to spend time with.
And, I still got it! After all these years...
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