Walking in a Cloud

It's rather bleak outside today. But I feel better.

I awoke with at least double the energy I had yesterday. I'm not really sure why I've been so tired lately. heh. Maybe it's mono.

And I started writing something new. I'm not sure exactly where it's going, but the story is still fresh and alive in my head. Hopefully by the end of next month I'll have a finished piece and I can work on publication. Hopefully.

Here's the prologue, if you're interested. heh.

I'm but a lowly sewer rat
a 'scampering around.
I've seen my share of gutters here
and of all the things I've found
There's only two that matter most:
finding love and life abound.

::pouting::

I feel the need to write, but I don't really have anything to say that isn't whiney fucking blather. And I don't want to subject you to that. It's really not worth it. I mean, while I may come out of the ranting feeling a bit better, I'm sure that you would not.

So everything sucks right now. That's the story. It's grey and shitty and there are too many voices in my head right now. And they're screaming. Sometimes they like to scream.

-d.

Scrooged!

Well, Christmas is over and it's back to work. The weekend was a good one, considering the mass quantities of snow and ice that poured down on us. And now, this boy is ready for the new year. and vacation. yeah, vacation will be nice.

Wednesday night, amidst the snow coming down, Chica and her father and I went to drinking. It wasn't a very festive kind of drinking either. Delmar had a few too many and by the time we arrived at the bar, he was ranting and raving about six sorts of nonsense. I suppose it may have made sense to someone more apparent in his life, but for us it was pretty much jibberish. After all that and a few games of 8-ball, he took to crying. I really can't stand a sloppy drunk. heh. Especially if it's me getting sloppy.

By Thursday morning, I was nursing the worst headache known to man and there was a solid inch of ice that glazed the world. I didn't really think to call our emergency hotline and so I took to scraping my way into the car so that I could drive to work. After my hour and a half trip into the office (scraping and driving combined) my headache had tripled in strength as I was greeted by an empty parking lot. The only people who were stupid enough to brave the roads were my boss, my co-worker, and myself. I moped around the office long enough to drink a cup of coffee, take some ibuprofen, and turn in my time sheet. And although I was supposed to go to my parent's house on Thursday, I was more than happy to put off the holiday craze for one more day in favor of sleep and recuperation. Chica and I spent the day watching Christmas movies and exchanging the gift we had bought one another. Mostly we just lounged around all day on the couch. It was a grand day, really.

Friday came with a blast. The roads were a little better and my father decided (with the help of my mother's incessant goading) to make the trip to C-bus to pick my non-driving self up. We arrived home only to be rushed out to Sears for one last gift, and then it was a rush to the DAV hall, where my Mom's family have had Christmas dinner for the last few years. Initially it was a bit wierd not going to Mamaw's house for Christmas, but after a while you learn to appreciate the spacier accomodations (even if it doesn't help with the racket the kids stir up.) heh. My family left the party after everything was cleaned up and back in place and headed home. We always exchange the gifts "the kids" bought on Christmas Eve. This stemmed from the fact that my father never, ever let us open any presents until the morning had come. As soon as we thought that the gifting was done for the evening, big AK spoke up, "Let's just open all the presents tonight." This was much to our shock, and my mother's horror, who had some last minute wrapping left to do. But Dad wasn't feeling all that well and didn't want to be awoken at the ass-crack of dawn as young kids are want to do on Christmas morning. As far as I know, Dad's words have always been final, and so we set to opening up all the things that were bought over the last few months. It was a good Christmas with the family, and as always, I received far more than I ever imagined.

Saturday was fairly nonchalant. I woke at 9:30 to find out what Santa had brought. Even though my younger siblings no longer believe in Santa Claus, we still go through the charade. I think the act continues mostly for my mother, who would like to believe that her children will never grow old. Although I admit, the game is still a jolly good time. After every one had lazily dressed themselves, we left for my Dad's parents for Christmas dinner and all the mischieve that comes with a house full of Kimblers. There was no bluegrass music this time, Christmas tends to be a little more crowded than Thanksgiving, but my brother, uncle and I did manage to sneak off in the bedroom to play some old rock-n-roll tunes. We hung out there most of the day, stuffing ourselves with ham and beans and pie and all those things that only come around a few times a year. It is good to have family to go home to.

And, inevitably, Sunday came. My father drove me home through the rolling hills of white, back to this humdrum apartment life. We ate dinner together and talked about growing older. He dreams of retirement and taking my mother to the exotic places she's always dreamed about. He also dreams for me, of grandkids and steady employment that will take my non-existent family through our tough years. And after he left, I spent some time thinking about my own version of the future. Then, I put on some Over the Rhine and cut my beard off. I trimmed up my hair and all of the sudden I looked like I was ten years old again, clean-faced and smiling.

Thousands More

I figured that I would steal a few moments and write in this space here today. Even though I don't have much to say and it's pretty crazy/busy here at work. ah, the holidays.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the bigger picture this weekend. I didn't have much to do (although I snubbed my friends on a couple of occasions) which directly led to me sitting around the apartment pondering my life.

I'm soon going to be a quarter of a century old.

I know it's not that big a deal, but I honestly figured that I would be doing something ten times more amazing than what I am. I know, I know: shipping and receiving is a glamourous job that not just anyone could handle. heh. I also know that this job is just that - a job - and that there are a million things that I do accomplish in my personal time that are more worth while to me. I suppose we're all pretty self critical at times.

So I started thinking about whether or not I was happy in my endeavors thus far. But I don't really regard happiness the way a majority of people do. I think happiness is a bit overrated, that even the happiest of people are miserable sometimes. I also don't think that misery is something to have feelings of shame over. Everybody hurts, sometimes. So, when I ask if I'm "happy in my endeavors thus far," what I'm really asking is do I feel accomplished and on task for my life so far? Do I feel like I have and continue to succeed?

and to answer? yes. I think I'm a fairly well-rounded individual, competant in many aspects of life and continuously seeking the questions that will make my life a better, more complete experience. There are a lot of areas that need improvement, don't get me wrong, but I honestly do try and seek a way to improve those qualities in which I am lacking. I am constantly re-evaluating my beliefs, my faith, my love, my mind. Be sure that nothing, neither within or without, is above question; even the Son of God was tried three times on the mountain top.

So in all my pondering, I came out feeling ok. Still on track. Still fighting the good fight. heh. Hope you have a good Monday!

-d.

colors

I crisped up the look of my blog yesterday. I really like the new colors, and adjusting the pre-existing template was not as difficult as I imagined.

I haven't really written anything here all week. It's been a fairly busy time at work (as the holiday season tends to be) and I've not really done anything of excitement. Coming home from Cincinnati left me feeling less in the Christmas spirit than when I set out on the trip (which is to say, not much at all.) This is really kind of a bummer, as I had hoped the Taft concert would throw me into a kind of kick-off to a good season.

I guess I'm doomed to just let the holiday squeak by without much notice. I just can't get excited about it.

ah well. . . .

I am excited to see my friends tonight. It's been too long.
-d.

I'm a Steamroller, Baby

This past weekend is the stuff of which dreams are made. In fact, I believe that last night’s sleep was haunted with Apples running carefree in and out of my consciousness. So, I probably won’t do the story justice (and I’m not even sure if you really care) but I have to tell someone about what a wonderful time I had.

My Saturday arrived early: 8am, to be exact. With adrenaline rushing through my veins like a steamroller, I couldn’t force myself to lie there any longer. So, I rose and proceeded to throw a load of laundry in the wash, and when I stepped outside to have my first cigarette of the day I was greeted with miniature snowballs falling from the sky. It only snowed for a few minutes, that first fifteen minutes of my day, but I knew that it was a sign for the beauty I was to experience over the next 48 hours.

Chica showed up at my door around 11, still drunk from her Friday night of drink and debauchery. All in all it was pretty funny (although, truthfully I would have been annoyed if I weren’t high with anxiety.) We went back to her place so that she could wash away the strong odour she had accumulated and get packed for weekend. Here’s where things start getting fuzzy. After a peaceful drive to Cincinnati we arrived at Bruce Lachey’s Brothel to be greeted by it’s (temporary) tenants: Becky, Brandon, Libby, Lara, Janelle and, of course, Bruce Lachey himself.

This wasn’t the first time I had met people from the Orchard, but I was still filled with that awkward unease I get when meeting new people. By the time we said our hellos to everyone staying with Bruce and changed clothes it was time to head to Arnold’s. Luckily there wasn’t too much time to oust myself with silence. The first thing I remember about the restaurant is the intermingling of laughter and chatter that grew in volume as I made my way up the stairs. We must have been right on time (or possibly a few minutes late) as there were already three rooms filled to the brim with Orchardites. This was the beginning of the whirlwind, as we filled the minutes with hellos and hugs in between imbibing Guiness and ordering our food. It was such a joy to put faces with the people that I’ve grown to know and love over the last nine months. There are so many. . .Trudy, Keith, Zayne, The Drew™ and his wife Wendy, Di, James (that’s with a dollar sign), Dan and his lovely wife Margarita, Stiv, Amanda, Christina, Troy, Russ, Kimberly, Jason, Mark and his wife and so many more that I had been fortunate enough to meet at Canal St. two months prior: Bill, Mariesa, Michelle, Kylie Jo, Scotty (and his wife Paula), Kevin, Jeanne, Anna Belle (and Belly brought her wonderful daughter Clancy and her friend), and Dave. See, now I feel like I’m missing someone that I’m going to say ‘doh!’ about later. But I digress. Dinner was over before I even had time to think about it and it was time for the concert.

The Taft Theatre looked amazing, as always. And the show – well it was an Over the Rhine show, at the Taft, on the Darkest Night of the Year. The Taft shows are always pretty special for me, mostly because it’s the venue where I first heard OtR play live. Every time I go back I’m reminded of Leo Kottke doing Jack’s Valentine during the encore and Karin dancing like no one’s looking as she sang My Love is a Fever (that song, on that particular night, is the moment that I was hooked for life – a Rhinelander – and years later what would draw me to become a member of this Imaginary Apple Orchard.) And, this year’s show was no less fantastic. Some of my favorite numbers were All I Want for Christmas is Blue, Drunkard’s Prayer, Poughkeepsie, and of course, My Love is a Fever. The entire experience was surreal, to say the least.

And afterwards, the drunken fun was to begin. A good majority of the Apples decided that they wanted to go some place to do karaoke, and so Bruce led us (astray) back towards his house to a little bar where we could sing. Not that it surprised me much, but a lot of people did sing. Becky and Steve did a great rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Lights. Bruce and Lara both tore up the mic all night long. James had some rockin’ renditions of popular country songs. KJ and her siblings sang Achy Breaky Heart. Even yours truly got up and sang a James Taylor song. Heh. The most fun was probably had by a big group of Apples singing Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody.

That was a lot of fun for me. Mostly because every one there seemed to think that I’m really shy, and singing a song in front the group (seemed) to change a few people’s opinion about that. I’m not really shy; I’m just anti-social. There happens to be a big difference -- mostly being that I’m one of the most extraverted people you’ll ever meet, if I already know you. heh. I’m just not outspoken when I’m not in a comfortable situation. Fortunately, putting myself on stage makes me a pretty comfortable person. The bar in general was a great time to really start to get to know the people who were there. Facades tend to fade away as the night grows older and the people become more and more inebriated. We ended up closing down the place, and the eight of us made our way back to casa, Lachey. We stayed up and talked nonsense until nearly 5am when everyone agreed that sleep could be fought no longer.

And the next day we all got together and had brunch at the Dubliner. In my opinion, a much better restaurant than Arnold’s with more reasonable prices as well. The food was excellent, even though my mood was tainted with the knowledge that I would have to say goodbye to all the lovely Apples. It was wonderful to meet Paige (Stiv and Amanda’s sweet baby girl) after seeing so many pictures. You don’t know how adorable a baby can be until you see them face to face. And then we left.

The car ride home was fairly quite. I had an entire gamut of emotions coursing through me, and spent much of the ride thinking about all the little moments that I don’t have space to write about here. There was so very much packed into a few hours that the whole experience left me feeling exhausted. And even when I made my way to the Lazyboy for the night, I couldn’t help but smiling (and sighing every once in a while) as the remembrance of the past day ran through my head.

My only regret is that the weekend weren’t longer, and that there were so many Apples that I did not have the fortune to meet (yet.) I suppose that I’ll have to leave those to another show, another night.

T - A - F - T

I'm trying so very hard to hide my excitement today. Even though it was a crappy/busy day at work, and everything seemed to get dumped on me, it was hard not to walk around looking carefree with a giant smile plastered on my face.

And I'm sad that a few Apples aren't going to make it to this awesome 'homecoming.' I'm looking forward to meeting and socializing almost as much as the upcoming show.

Almost.

Karin and Linford have been two of my closest friends for the last five or so years. I don't really get to talk to them much, but their music and poetry and lives have been such great spiritual and emotional uplifting for me. The words that they breath life have been my saving grace.

Can you tell I'm excited?

Love and miss you all who aren't able to make the journey. You will surely be thought of often.

-d. :)

a one minute furlong

I wanted so much to share a story with you today. But today has been the day from hell here at work (meaning that I've had little to no time to be philanderous.)

Perhaps I shall write it tonight and post it tomorrow.

Then again, I always say that and never really do. Who knows?

Hope you all had a wonderful Tuesday. It is so warm here! I'm talking above sixty degrees warm. in Ohio. in December. DECEMBER, I said! I can't believe it.

I just want to run away and play outside today.

-d.

a small voice

I feel like I've all but lost my voice. You know, the one that comes out in the wee hours of the night, tears you from sleep, if only for one perfect sentence. I don't feel as if I've written anything of worth in over a month. Nothing productive.

I've always been a big fan of journal writing. It's been an easy way for me to practice my discipline over the years, and to slow my ever swirling thoughts. I've pulled a few decent short stories out and used some notebooks for the start of a novel. None of these have ever really gone anywhere, but simply transfered from one form to another - from the notebook to the computer screen, sometimes right back in the notebook. This is my brain doing it's old tricks again - just juggling moments from my life: left brain, right brain, left brain, right brain. Nothing new is created, but the same thoughts tirelessly reincarnated and each time polished a little more. Perhaps someday I'll have something that people will actually want to read. Who knows?

The thing is, poetry has always served as an "easy" outlet for my creativity. I put easy in quotations because the poetry isn't really easy at all, but it's at least been concise and always an accessible form. But lately I've been bored with all the formulaic posturing associated with strict verse. My blank verse and free form poetry has always been a half step up from drivel; it's the stuff of suicidal thirteen year olds and aging hacks. And so that pretty much counts poetry out. I even have a couple of aging songs that are probably going to die soon if I don't get some lyrics attached to them. Then again, maybe the songs aren't ready to be written yet.

So, I guess the goal of this winter season is to find a voice. Not just any voice, my voice. I need August back in town; I miss him entirely too much. When he was around, I was constantly writing something. I always had something to say. I suppose it's the kind of inspiration that you can only find in another writer/poet/philosopher/best of friend.

I need to figure out a way to say what's on my mind without just spilling everything and sounding like a whiney bitch. Yeah, that's my problem. I'm a whiney bitch. heh. At least I got that out of the way.

off to the imaginary apple orchard,
-d.

the weak end

It's Friday! and everyone says, "HURRAH!"

I'm pretty stoked about the upcoming weekend. My G-ma Onie is turning 70 on Saturday, and so GMoney and I are driving home tonight. I'll get to see my family (again) and eat good food (again) and have a lot of fun. It's like Thanksgiving two weekends in a row! After that, I'll definitely be ready for a break. heh.

So, Chica and I talked last night. Mostly about her leaving and how we didn't want to spend the next seventh months saying goodbye. That would absolutely drive me into an emotional train wreck (not to say that I won't end up there the minute I have to leave her in Texas.) I'm really not sure how either one of us is going to handle the separation. I mean, we've spent the better part of the past three years sidebyside. --no joke. e v e r y d a y. I'm going to miss her like I would miss my left hand.

AH! I don't even really want to think about it right now.

So, enough of that, I guess. and I'm missing Michelle and everybody tonight -- not to mention the OtR concert. But, family is worth it. Mamaw Onie is worth it, for sure. My mom and I lived with her until I was two - until my parents were married - and she was the only person that I would spend the night with when I was young (probably because I felt like her house was still my house.) Hopefully I'll get to sit around and hear some old stories about her life this weekend. It's so very interesting to me to hear her talk about being a young, poor girl from Virginia, working in her Daddy's grocery store.

Well, I hope that everyone has a great weekend!
I miss you already. . .

-d.

running (through my head)

I'm so tired, but I can't sleep,
Standin' on the edge of somethin' much too deep.
It's funny how we feel so much, but we cannot say a word.
We are screaming inside, oh, but we can't be heard

That Sarah Mclaughlin lyric has been running through my head all day long. Maybe it's the cause of my most recent bout of insomnia.

When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake.

I am Jack's pounding head.

I talked to God for a long time yesterday. It's been since before the election that I've really prayed. And it was good - time well spent, I guess. I mean, I didn't really come to any ends with the stuff that I'm dealing with, but I did get a chance to say it out loud. That's always the first step for me. I don't really talk to other people about what's going on in my head. A lot of the time I don't even talk to myself about it. It becomes a whole lot easier to just lay it aside and say, "I'll deal with that another time." or "It would be more harmful than helpful to try and take on all that crap." or any of another thousand excuses. But yesterday, I brought all that has been bothering me to the very front of my mind. I held it in my hands, turned it over and put it back. Turns out it's not done yet, and probably won't be for another week or so.

Hell, it'll probably be July before I deal with it. I mean, let's not kid ourselves.

Ok, so. . .I'm really afraid about Chica leaving. I'm afraid that she's going to fly off to another part of the world and that I'll never get to see her again. I'm having premature separation anxiety -- She's not leaving for another seven months! And I know that it's not the case. I mean, we're best friends. The kind of friends that rarely go even a day without speaking to each other. and Texas isn't that far away. is it?

There's some other stuff too. Mostly about inadequacy and that's pretty much all my fault. My mother still tells me that I'm not living up to my full potential. I'm not really sure what she hopes to accomplish by bashing my life. It's supposed to be motivational, I guess. heh. I get to tell her that I'll go and do those things when I'm good and ready. heh. I gots to love me some quality family time.

Other than that, life's been pretty swell lately. I'm sleepy and a little cranky, but it's a doable life. I can breath here, and that's all that really matters.

-d.

at the movies

My roommate and I went to a double feature last night. After all, it was 50 cent movie night at Carraige Place -- two movies for a buck. You just can't beat that.

We saw The Bourne Supremacy first. I thought it was so-so. I mean, the story was pretty much a direct continuance of the first movie, and it did avoid a lot of pitfalls that most sequals run into. But for some reason, I just didn't really get into the flic. I didn't really like the scenes where the director decided on using handhelds. A lot of the combat was so blurred that I couldn't tell who was doing the hitting and who was getting their ass kicked. The car chase at the end was filmed much of the same way. In the end, it sort of gave me a headache (which doesn't usually happen to me.) Besides the shoddy camera work, the story was weakly drawn from the Ludlum novels. This is the thing that really bugs me. If a movie doesn't have a decent story, then it's simply not worth my time or money.

Next, we went to see Garden State. I know that I'm like the only person left on the planet who hadn't seen the movie, but it was well worth the wait. Zach Braff is so damn talented it makes me sick. Plus Natalie Portman gave a great performance, it had a wonderfully compelling story and it was just plain good. Not that I don't have anything bad to say about the film. After having a night to think about the story (I even dreamt about it - sick, I know) I think that the relationship between Large and his father could have been developed a bit more. There wasn't a whole lot of information about his relationship with his mother either. I get that the character grew up in a very flat and distant family, but there's usually a little more to it than that. Even if the child were put on a Rx cocktail right after his mother's accident, he has five years of parental interaction that wasn't even touched upon. As a member of the compelled audience I can only infer that his father was distant and can infer very little about his relationship with his mom. Ah, well. Didn't mean to over analyze a perfectly good film. They don't come around all that often.

. . . . . .

And on another note:

The sun is shining today; it seems as if I haven't looked upon it's face for years. Not only does the sun's great warmth bring the temperature to just above bearable, but it plain makes me happy. My heart beams when I walk outside and into the heaven sent, gold rays.

Maybe I'm part plant.

And after this great day, I'm not entirely looking forward to winter. I mean, I am still looking forward to Christmas and spending some more time with my family, but just don't know if I can handle four months of grey and gloom. I need light! The world is so much more beautiful, more alive, when the sun is shining.

I guess I should simply be greatful for the surprise today.

thanks,
-d.