Justice, of My Own Eye

offline writing

2009-12-02T20:33:00.000-05:00

Not that it means much, but I've been really great about doing at least a little offline writing every day for a couple of months now. I've been off of work for six months now and the trickling of ideas for different fiction pieces have started back up, but I haven't started anything. Right now I'm focusing on putting the pen to page -- it's become something of a mantra for me. . . .pen to the page. pen to the page. I'm just not sure if I have anything to say quite yet.

Although I was all excited about moving home a few years back -- making new starts, accepting a little responsibility for myself and my station in life, tempering down some of my less constructive habits, and maybe cleaning out the closet that was my terribly over-packed mind at the time -- it just feels like the last five years have been a terrible time suck. Admittedly, I feel like I'm having a minor and somewhat early mid-life crisis here of late, brought on by some sad although not sudden losses, which is doing nothing but contributing to this feeling of uselessness. The fact of my age (nearing thirty here) coupled with the inescapable view of my own mortality has made me into a little ball of retro- intro-spection. And all I'm coming up with is, "Fuck."

That depresses me to no end. Because it's familiar. It's what I consider the old me -- my old addage to every thing from being late to work (fuck it) to dealing with stupid people (fuck you) to the very general, all-encompassing (i don't give a fuck.) I need a pick me up that's not chemical related -- just any old good news will do. Good will couldn't hurt either.

Hope you kids in the blog-o-sphere are enjoying the holiday season.

-dboy.

Get Busy Livin'

2009-09-10T03:57:00.001-04:00

I picked this title from a Stephen King quote, although the first time I heard it was from the Frank Darabont adaptation of King's novella Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. The quote is from Andy Dufresne and reads "Get busy living, or get busy dying."

I've spent the last week staying the nights with my Mom's stepdad while my Mamaw was visiting family in Virginia. They (my Mamaw and Papaw) have been married since before I was born, so we've always been close despite there not being any blood relation. Papaw (I nick-named him very young) DudSpud is semi-dependant, having had a couple serious strokes a few years back. Basically he doesn't walk so well, which has directly lead to him not doing much for himself any time he can get away with it. He relies on a wheel chair much of the time even though he is capable of walking, and physical therapists say that his condition could improve if he's willing to work on building some muscle mass and joint flexibility.

Anyway, he's pretty semi-dependant right now so someone had to be there all the time. His stepkids (my mother and her two sisters) and one of his two sons divied up day time hours and I spent from about 8 o'clock at night until 8 in the morning with him every night. I volunteered for the long shift because even though it put me there for the most hours, they were fairly easy hours when he was sleeping, or at least when he was supposed to sleep. heh. I mostly read with a bathroom break averaging every two hours throughout the night. I got to catch up on some books that I wanted to read -- even though I've been a reading fool this past year I've seriously slacked since I moved out of my house and inheritied mindless cable television and free internet access whenever I feel like it. I'm a fucking addict.

All that back story to say that I realized something that's been gnawing at me for some time. Hanging out with a 70 something, physically deteriorated man gave me a lot to ponder on - bringing some buried fears to the surface. See, I'm not really afraid to die. I haven't been for some time -- even if there's nothing out there after this world (which I don't really believe,) I'm more than willing to go when my time is up. I don't think that most people are afraid to die, really. I mean why would you be? If you are a religious person, that is to say that if you prescribe a belief system that deals with the afterlife, then you probably feel like you're going to be rewarded or taken care of in the very least. And if you don't have a belief system at all, then you probably don't worry about it too much, unless you're obsessed about going up in a cloud of nothingness (that I could understand a little better than say believing in hell and then believing that you're going to hell. If you think about it you don't really get too many people who actually believe in hell saying tha they'll be there some day -- rather, they like to make reservations for other people.) In fact, I'm quite sure that me and most of the rest of the world would rather die, even if it is a harrowing, violent death, as long as it's fairly quick rather than having some long drawn out illness that might involves minor pain that builds and builds over time and leaves you unable to care for yourself. I figured that it's the thought of aging that bothers me. It really upset me to think that some day I might not be locomotive. Not being able to wipe my ass I can make a joke about, but not being able to get up from a chair, or out of bed and walk to the place I'm going -- there's nothing funny about that to me. It's scary.

Dunno -- That's just what's been on my mind these last few days and so I figured I would put it down here. I made a fuss about restarting up this blog and then didn't write in it for over a week. doh!

Other than my own personal bullshit, I have to say that the most easily defined emotion that I've felt taking care of DudSpud is honored. It has always sickened me (in a wholly mental way) that we (as a society) treats our elders as burdens -- I was happy (and a little suprised) that it felt good to help him get where he was going. And although it's a little weird to know first hand that my Papaw is circumcised -- the whole wiping someone else's ass thing is breezy.

yes, that was a fart joke.

edit: Upon rereading after posting this it came to me that perhaps the title makes it sound like I'm implying that my Papaw ought to "get busy dying." That wasn't in my mind at all -- just wanted to make that crystal, yeah?

Merry Go Round from Hell

2009-08-28T04:05:00.000-04:00

I've just finished reading this blog from the get go.

It makes me afraid to write here. :ninja:

But I'm going to do it anyway.

See you tomorrow. (maybe)

-d.

It's like riding a bicycle

2009-08-27T12:41:00.003-04:00

It's been a long time since I've put any thoughts in this space, but in looking for some place to blog I realized that it would be easiest to write here.

Even with no job life has been rather full. Knowing that I was going to have to rent a storage space, I did my best to rid myself of all the unnecessary junk that fills up our apartments and minds. There is still a lot to go through, but once it's all sorted I'm going to have a little sale and whatever is left over is going to a local charity. I couldn't believe the amount of clothes I've gathered over the last however many years - nearly as many boxes as the books (which did not get sorted but all put into storage.) Leave it to me to end up shirtless but have plenty to read.

This week has been particularly hectic - my Great Grandfather, Eddie went into the hospital with a serious infection. He had a procedure done a week or so ago to have his gall bladder and bile duct checked out and while they were inside of him the doctors decided to place a temporary stent in the duct to allow gallstones to pass. It was a fairly uninvasive procedure done with a scope and a light anesthetic, but being 98 years old pretty much any surgery, no matter how simple, can be a matter of life and death. He ended up septic when the stent collapsed and bile started leaking somehow into his corrolary systems and eventually into the blood. He was put on a heavy antibiotic on Sunday, and then Tuesday the doctors removed the colllapsed stent and replaced it with a larger, stronger one. He was up and talking (asking for food) after the procedure and has since been moved from ICU. I know that I'm lucky to have even known one of my great-grandparents. The old man has always said that he's going to live to see 100 -- I hope that he's right.

So that's the doldrums of my life right now. I've been reading a lot and otherwise filling the void with the internets and reruns of CSI on cable. If I get a bit of alone time later maybe I'll share some of the pen and ink that I've been working on these last few days.

Oh, and watch mom! No hands!

final thoughts

2007-04-05T21:39:00.000-04:00

I'm shutting this place down.

It may reopen later.

I'm not taking anything away, but I'm not really adding anything either.

you can find me here or here.

thanks,
-d.

a million saturdays working

2006-12-09T18:15:00.000-05:00

So here I am again. Stuck at work on a Sat. evening. My bestfriend from highschool got married sometime in the last hour or so. Next weekend friends from around the country will be meeting up to celebrate their love for great music. I'm sure that I'll be sitting here in this chair.

And, truthfully, I feel absolutely wonderful. I know I'm missing out on these things, but it's not affecting me like I would expect. I hit a plateau in my stress levels last week, and it was driving me mad, hurting me physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. And so I did the only thing I know to relieve the agonizing why's and what if's. I started letting things go -- little by little at first. Soon you start feeling better. So good, in fact, that you start shredding all the worries of life from yourself. Bliss and Peace become tangible things that you can wrap yourself in; it gains you comfort. And now, like my warm bed on these very chilly mornings, I'm finding it hard to leave behind. I'm finding it hard to concern myself with anything that will cause pain or strife or worry.

In short -- I don't care. I don't want to, and you can't make me. heh.

And sometime along the way, the Holiday Spirit crept in. I've found myself humming bits of old songs under my breath as I proof orders, or file reference sheets back into the filing cabinets. If I could play music on a daily basis here (the music nazis won't allow it for some odd reason,) I'm sure I would be in full-swing Christmas Mood. I find myself sitting at night wishing that I had put up some sort of decoration - some garland hung across the door frame, or some Christmas lights strung along the ceiling, even a small tree (maybe.) I didn't do any of that, so I light a candle and smoke another Marlboro and fall into the duldroms for a while. I think about you and imagine us having a great time spreading cheer. Wouldn't that be nice.

Life gets pretty heavy and I wish it was light,
but after all I love the night.
OtR

momentary lapse of reason

2006-11-08T21:31:00.000-05:00

All of the sudden, I feel like dying. I feel desperation sneaking up inside me, swelling, begging to be set free. I know that I won’t do it. That I cannot, will not, give myself into that lesser emotion, but it does not change the fact that it’s there, deep within.

Am I foolish to think that I’m on the path that destiny has chosen for me? Am I foolish for letting fate take the fall for all my iniquities and the consequences of the million poor decisions I’ve made? Do I spit in God’s face, and my own, when I chalk this life up to circumstance and not the free will of this man?

In many ways I am still but a boy, a sapling yet to grow into a tree, but here I am a man with a man’s responsibilities. This is my life, chosen by me or some other thing, for I have not words to describe such a malicious being, that gnaws at a man’s heart and steals his secret aspirations while he is not aware.

Do you do you still dream of great things? Do you chance to love and be loved and to live life for what it is worth? For life is worth all life, and both end in death – reward or recompense, decisions again.

. . . . . .

not a journal entry folks, but more of what I call conscience writing. no worries, enjoy!

haiku

2006-10-12T17:59:00.000-04:00

Snow drops keep falling
Skies spit orbs of winter dust
Spinning white gold rain

Liberating God From the Minds of Men

2006-08-03T19:58:00.000-04:00

Last night, as I lay awake in the heat, trying desperately to sleep, I began a conversation in my mind. In it were two characters: myself and an ex-pastor of mine. We have quite a history between us, but that is neither here nor there. In the short, a long time ago, we wronged one another and neither of us have had the gull to apologize to the other, and so we have since parted ways. Anyway, before I get completely off track, The Pastor and I were discussing our views about the world, mankind and the like. Needless to say there was and is a great divide in our beliefs, but as you may already know it is quite possible for two men to walk two entirely different paths, ending up at exactly the same destination. Regardless of our differences, the two of us were managing to have a fairly civil conversation, except that he kept insisting that I not use any profanity (and if you know me personally, you’ll know that is a near impossibility)

Throughout our conversation, The Pastor has relatively good points – this I’ve always known, being as I attended church regularly since I was a boy up until a few years back. The way of church, I believe, is fairly righteous, if not often a little backwards. For the most part though, the guidelines they set before their congregation are simple values in place so that the people may lead a good, wholesome life. The trouble begins when the masses become so institutionalized. Soon enough, they start using their own accepted values as a measuring stick for all man’s worthiness of God’s grace (forgetting, in fact, that no man is worthy of God.) The imposition of a single set of values upon the whole of society doesn’t end up being righteous at all, but terribly obtuse in judgment.

Literalism can be quite dangerous, especially when taken to the extreme. History shows us that Fundamentalism and the imposition of their (often extreme) set of moral codes most often results in violence against those who the institution deems unworthy, or unclean. Often it seems that the church has taken on the role of Michael, the archangel, seeking to cleanse the earth of all traces of perdition and sin; it is through these acts of ‘cleansing’ that we find the most terrible acts of atrocity: war, murder and genocide, justified because the institutionalized masses collectively decide, with surety, the will of God.

And there’s the rub.

Now, I don’t think it an impossibility to know God or His will. I think that God speaks to all of us, everyone. I know with certainty that I have felt a guiding hand in my life; I have seen His great works with my eyes, but I would not suppose that what He does in my life is a mandate issued for the earth. Of course, The Pastor comes back with the only rebuttal a Literalist can have: Scripture! Scripture! Scripture! But that’s where we have to disagree, in the interpretation of the scripture. The Pastor uses the scripture to trap God into a little box of dogmatic do’s and don’ts, and I try my damndest to let it set me free.

. . . . . .

Once upon a time, I too was quite the literalist. Some would even say that I was a fanatic. But when I became so wrapped up in my spirituality that I wanted to abandon everything this earth had endowed me, and take up my cross, and walk the earth on faith alone –everyone, the church especially, told me I was insane, a crazyman. They told me that I could not give up my life, that faith simply did not work that way. Some days I actually lament that I listened to them, but I would have missed out on so much.

pneumonia for my birthday

2006-05-17T22:09:00.000-04:00

*ugh*

So I came down with a weird flu-like virus last week that magically transformed itself into a nasty (slight) pneumonia in my right lung. It was pretty much a downer with a lot of coughing and aching and fever. And if this was a *slight* pneumonia, I don't think I could ever put up with the real deal -- you'd think people die of such things. But, anyway, the doctors pumped me full of Amelox (a strong antibiotic) and cough syrup with HydroCodone in it and gave me an inhaler (my first one) full of Albuterol.

That pretty much fixed me up in no time at all. Which is good, because today is my birthday. And it would be nice to be able to go home and drink a couple of beers in celebration of me breaking out of my mother's womb, some twenty-five years ago. Thank God I finished the antibiotic yesterday (I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to drink alcohol whilst on an antibiotic.)

So, I just wanted to write and say that if I've seen you (in real life, or in cyberspace) and you've wished me a happy birthday, or good health, or a hello -- I just wanted to say thanks. I appreciate hearing from you. I appreciate your friendship. I've been working on being a better friend, myself. Trying to keep up with everybody and responding to emails and whatnot is a lot of hard work. So, I wanted to let you know that I do like you (and appreciate the hard work you do too.)

later gators,
-dboy.

'nilla

2006-04-26T19:43:00.000-04:00

Random thought of the day:

I think vanilla is the finest of the flavors. Especially for things like ice-cream or pudding, or even cake really. (isn't that what a yellow cake is?)

Anyway, I just thought I would share the preference with you.

. . . . .

It's been a rather long week at work, and we're only halfway through. I think it's due to having worked late last Saturday. All in all, I don't mind working the overtime, but it tends to make the following week a drag, especially if you do several Saturdays in a row. Coming into works moves from being a downer, to a drag, to unbearable, to complete Hell. But I'm getting ahead of myself, that's not supposed to happen till late July. (if it happens at all this year)

Which brings me to the fact that my supervisor told me yesterday that we were in fact selling out, although not to mega T-shirt supplier Hanes. And that the paperwork was supposed to be finalized today (and subsequently today would be M VonH.'s last day as president.) I couldn't even feign interest. How do you politely tell someone "I don't really care?"

It's not as if this place is going to close it's doors (that is if they did sell - I mean, who can trust their boss.) Hello? I do the order maintenance for embroidery orders every day, and we're receiving orders up until the end of December already! I guess people just need something to talk about.

anyhoo -- I'm gonna run before I do get caught by the internet Nazi's and really do lose my job.

ciao,
-dboy.

utility companies are the devil

2006-04-22T21:52:00.000-04:00

CAUTION!! LONG RANT AHEAD!!

So Vectron, the only gas company that supplies to the good people who live in this god-forsaken town, came and shut my gas off Thursday.

Now, this would be completely understandable if, say, I owed them money or was terribly late in paying my bill, but that is not the case. In fact, I just turned the gas on in my name the Friday before. And the Monday after, I hauled my ass down to Ulbrecht's IGA to pay an outrageous $120 security deposit. So, not only do I not owe them money -- they have an extra hundred dollars of mine. Still, I have no gas.

The story goes that a guy pulls up in a Vectron truck about ten minutes before I have to leave for work. After he finishes his cigarette he gets out, comes to the door and hands me a bill/disconnect notice for a Mr. Patrick Blosser. (Pat, if you're out there - go pay you're fucking bill!) As soon as I discovered that the bill was not mine, I came out and tried to explain to the nice fella that there was some sort of mistake - that Patrick Blosser doesn't live here and that I had recently started the account for this residence in my name. He seemed nice enough about, explaining that he would have to call his supervisor to get things cleared out.

I figured that he would be on the telephone for more than 10 seconds, so I turned around to throw my T-shirt on (I had been sitting around in my wife-beater) and as I headed back out the door, he was turning off my gas. I tried to stop him, but he muttered something about orders and having to turn off the gas regardless. Then he hopped in his truck and took the fuck off. I guess I was probably pretty scary looking at the moment.

For the next hour and a half I alternated between talking to complete morons who work at the customer service call center and listening to intolerable music. Ok, I lie -- I started out talking and pretty much ended up cussing out whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the line, and the music was terrible, only aggravating me more and more each time they put me back on hold.

Honestly I must have went through the entire chain of customer service reps, supervisors, and managers. They all assured me that it was a mistake and that my gas would be turned on the next day. They assured me that no one was available to come back and turn it on right away, and were regrettable in informing me that they could not give me any kind of time table on when a worker would be available the following day. I finally relented and assured them that if the problem was not fixed tomorrow, as early as possible, that they would be receiving another call, and that the next time I wouldn't be so genial.

So, when I get home from work on Thursday (which wasn't that bad because I ended up taking a half day so that I could scream at the gas company and then calm myself down) there's a note from Vectron saying that a technician had stopped by to install an automatic meter reader and didn't catch me home. They wondered if I might call in the next day to set up a time that the work could be done, whatever was convenient for me. HA!

And now, the rage returns.

So, I drink a few beers and go to bed, thinking that it'll all be Ok in the morning when this guy gets here and turns my gas back on so that I can take a nice hot shower and have a decent Friday at work. Besides, I wasn't really missing any money, seeing as I have to work Saturday anway.

So I wake up at eleven and the guy still hasn't come. I go ahead and make coffee and eat an apple and smoke three or four cigarettes thinking that they must have a busy day. The hour passes and I figure they've taken a break for lunch and that if I want to go to work, I had better just clean up in the sink with cold water and make ready.

And then I make lunch and have a few more cigarettes and a couple cups of coffee and the guy still hasn't come. I asked my sis to stick around the apartment so that when the guys from the gas company come they can get in to turn the gas back on. See -- they say that they can shut the gas off from the outside, but that they can't get it back on without having access to the cellar.
Anyway, I go to work and try not to think about my situation and do my job, but I'm still kind of fuming that the guy couldn't get around to doing my place before I left for work.

So I finally get off and make towards the house, looking forward (again) to having a nice Hot shower before I go out and have a couple of drinks with my friends. But when I make my way in and try the kitchen faucet, there's no hot water. I go the basement and make sure the water heater is turned on and working, but the pilot won't light -- because there's no gas. That's right, the fuckers still didn't come and turn my gas on.

But, I decided not to get mad -- cause I don't like to stress myself out, plus I figured I would save it for a more convenient time, namely when someone from Vectron was on the other line of a telephone. I can tell you the people are lucky they decided to do away with their local offices, cause I sure would have liked to smack the stupid out of some of those people today.

yet another, new beginning

2006-04-12T12:54:00.000-04:00

So, I've been on hiatus forever, but I think I'm ready to start myself back into society. Sometimes, I need to just break and gather my thoughts. . .

Work has been really great lately. Every one there is freaking out because there are rumors that the company is going to be bought out by Hanes (and they're all afraid that the big bad corporation will come in and wipe everyone's jobs) but I got word this week that Hanes only invested in our company and dumped some (read:a lot) of their product on us. Not only does this not mean a take-over of our little company, but plenty of business thrown our way, plus many improvements in the shop. We're going to be moving to a paperless ordering system, which is great for me being one of the only people in our distrubution center that knows how to turn on a computer. heh. I've been up to my armpits in transferring old stuff into the system, and although data entry sucks, in many ways it beats having to scrape for my job in the embroidery department like everyone else.

Also! I finally, finally, got my own place! Well, not exactly my own place, but a place to share with my lil' sis. We're moving on Good Friday to a nice little two bedroom house towards the (non-existent) downtown area. I'm (obviously) uber-excited. And, believe it or not, it's not so much the new personal space, because I like being close to my family, but I haven't even seen the majority of my stuff for over two years. TWO YEARS, PEOPLE! Most all of my books, my records, my chess board, all of it. Hell, after this long I'm excited to see my damn vacuum! heh.

Anyway, things are lookin' good here in Sidney -- the weather's turning nice, there are birds a-singin' and flowers bloomin'. I think for the first time since I got here, I'm happy to be in podunk.

Hope all is well with you too,
-d.

deeper in the void

2006-03-23T02:57:00.000-05:00

close your eyes and imagine. . .

nothing.

grab a bucket and mop

2006-03-07T01:03:00.000-05:00

I feel like everytime I take a minute to write anything here it's always wishy-washy bullshit, and frankly, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being sad -- it's so draining, ya know?

Besides, in real-reality, I'm not that sad - although, I think that I take the cake on being withdrawn. Luckily, I've had some good friends come and drag me by the britches to have a good time, a good chat, anything to get me outside of my own head. And please don't think that if you haven't tried (or tried and my misery and self-loathing overwhelmed you) that you're a bad friend. I love you too - well, most of you anyway.

So, my buddy Nate and I went out on Friday after work. Mostly to shoot some pool, drink some beers, and have a good chat about life. We used to talk all the time about the universe and such -- then the ass moved to 1st shift and I don't really get to see him anymore. Anyhoo, we hit up the bowling alley (cause they have a sweet ass pool room with like 12 tables in the back) and played for a couple of hours. After that, I invited him back to my cousin's house for more beer and darts. We hung out with Fawnda and Rob (her boyfriend) and my lil' sis, Wuzzer. And before we knew it, time had completely gotten away from us. It was 5:30 in the morning (not a big deal to me, especially on a Friday night -- but then again, I'm not Nate. I don't have a girlfriend waiting at home for me, one that was expecting him home around three.)

oops.

So, I'm not sure if Nate's allowed to come and hang out with me anymore.

I swear, I'm nearly harmless! I mean, I don't barhop. I don't chase girls. I don't drink too much (usually, I drink just enough.) But, needless to say, she was pissed and worried and PISSED.

I don't think it helped when I asked my sister to call and make sure he got home in one piece. Perhaps I wasn't thinking all that clearly come 6:30 in the morning. heh.

oh well, I think everyone had a pretty good time (excluding Nate's girl.) heh.

-dboy.

this beautiful mess

2006-02-17T04:10:00.000-05:00

I've spent much of the last few weeks rolling in the mud. The sticky kind, with giant globs of solids, good for throwing at whomever is close at hand. It's comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time - comfortable because it holds you with a real grip, uncomfortable because it won't let go. Then again, who's trying to move?

but then it's easy to make metaphors about life at four o'clock in the morning when no one else is looking. And I better make this quick cause Dad will be up in about 20 minutes to get the coffee perking.

Anyway - that's how life's been in danville lately. sticky. messy. slow. And I don't say much, although, I still have been known to be a good listener. Besides, you wouldn't want to hear me bitch about work (I got a promotion last week,) or talk about family tragedy (my grandma had a mild stroke.) There's always ups and downs -- comedy and tragedy, and what we're looking for is an adventure.

Well, there's no adventure here.

That's the sum of it. I'm not wrestling it at all -- just sinking further in the mire. Rolling around in it a bit, enjoying this beautiful mess that we call life. I'm sure, before you know it, I'll be springing up and singing of new-fangled ideas of granduer. I've done it before.

Until then, I've a few more things that I have to figure out. Hope you have peace in your life.

now, to sleep -- goodnight.

-dboy.

long ride home

2006-01-19T12:41:00.000-05:00

It's been another minute. . . .I guess I forgot that I was going to start writing here on a more regular basis. oops.

Happy (v. belated) New Years to all you out there that may or may not stumble by this place. I know that I'm late, but hey, better late than never. Right? I'm pretty sure that I still have some Christmas cards lying around that I meant to send -- so I suppose that I'm not that late on a new year's blessing to you all. heh.

You know, I'm not really even sure why I'm writing here today. I feel a little guilty - like I'm sending out one of those mass emails to all my friends just to let them know that I still care but not enough to write each one individually. I suppose that I just don't have much going on and very little to say. Life barrells on, runaway trains, and all that jazz.

So, I've been reading Anne LaMott and listening to Patty Griffin (the book was a christmas gift and the record a personal indulgence.) They're both proving therapeutic -- clearing my head with each turn of the page and each new song. Both women are so vibrant, beautiful, and seemingly indifferent to ideas of convention. As it turns out, it's exactly what I needed.

And a last minute thanks to those of you who have taken a moment to check up with me during my month absence from the web. I really appreciate you folks.

I've had some time to think about you
And watch the sun set like a stone
I've had some time to think about you
On the long ride home
Patty Griffin ~ Long Ride Home

-d.

time keeps on slippin'

2005-12-14T02:15:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to get back to this space -- I even took a moment to jot out some thoughts for the blog the other day at work, and yet there's nothing but dead space here. I guess maybe it was coldteablue's recent rebirth into the blogging world that has pushed my pen this time.

Things have been fairly busy lately. It is, after all, the holiday season, where every ounce of spare energy is spent preparing oneself for the onslaught of christmas parties, family gatherings, religious observances, and of course the occasional holiday concert! Plus work has decided that we all need extra money for the holidays (I'm not complaining - I swear) and has made it mandatory overtime for the last two months. Maybe I'm just too exhausted to complain. ;)

I got all my Christmas shopping done last weekend. Traditionally, I like to do all my purchasing on a single day before the holiday arrives. Contrary to my shopping schedule - I take several weeks to figure out exactly (or atleast a good ball park idea) of who I am buying for and what they might like. That way, when I find myself among the mass of shoppers I'm not too dumbfounded to pick out gifts. This year, the shopping stretched to two days, however the second day only consisted of a trip to the Wal-Mart to pick up a few odds and ends that I was too tired to finish up on the day before. I would consider the excursion a complete success.

And now all there is too do is sing along to some old familiar tunes, sip on good coffee, and wait for your arrival. I'm very excited to see you over this holiday season (if I get a day off, heh.) When I see you, I hope your heart is filled with the joy and comfort that I find in Christmas.

ciao bella,
-d.

I wanna go home

2005-11-28T04:08:00.000-05:00

I know - I moved back a few months ago - and I'm here right now, sitting in my parent's living room, typing this entry from their keyboard. But sometime between here and there this stopped being my home and became my parent's house.

And I want my stuff! All of my stuff! Some of which I haven't seen for nearly two and a half years! I know that I'm not really all bent out of shape about possessions, but I really do want all my stuff -- my books and all my clothes and my dishes! I want it.

But I suppose that's not really what I'm whining about tonight. I suppose this latest installment of bitching is about not having my friends around me. I'm a family person, and when I left my family I started building a new one -- and now I've left them, not talked to some of them at all in over five months. I guess that it really hit me over the holiday, that it's as if they were never there.

and I'm feeling a little alone.

ugh - I should just go to sleep now. Monday is fast approaching and we all have to go back to ~~hell~~ work tomorrow.

so even though I couldn't call -- I miss you.
-d.

passing through

2005-11-10T02:21:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to post this for my own sake. . .really I'm just passing through.

of all the dreams i've had (not much, but), these were out of reach. so to speak. for what i can recall, there was always this distance. this big gap in between you and me. from where i stand and observe you, you're always there. smiling, happy. just the way i like the way you are. but when i try to get near, it's useless. you'll be going off elsewhere, but you're still happy, still smiling. there's not a moment when you're beside me, or i'm beside you. there's not a moment that we're even close. maybe it's because we never really talk, but this is definitely different. like, this unapproachable kind of thing, you know? like whatever could happen, won't. but then again, i don't know. my dreams have always been offbeat, even though they seem real.

from sitting, waiting, wishing

perhaps a longer post about CST before (or during) the weekend.

late,
-d.

sitting, waiting, wishing

2005-10-26T02:45:00.000-04:00

You know, I don't feel put-out or displaced or anything like that. I've learned to be patient in my life -- I've learned that I'm good at waiting, watching. Unless I have expectations, of course - that is an entirely different ballgame.

Not to say that I don't get frustrated with it all from time to time. But when that happens, I know my fix can only be a few breaths away, a recollection of a favorite tune, a hum of a few bars or soft poetry whispered underneath my breath. This is what brings peace back to my mind.

So, I've spent the last few months just being. I wake, work, be semi-productive in my personal goals, have good family times (if little social life.) And I'm pretty ambigious as to what comes next. But I'm sure something's going to give. The time for permanent settling just doesn't seem quite right - and I feel selfish for wishing that it were.

I'm here -- sitting, waiting, wishing. And waiting on tomorrow to unfold.

g'n,
-d.

whimsey

2005-10-20T01:23:00.000-04:00

So, I really wrote some quick thoughts down last time because I was in a whiney mood and wanted to pout. Thanks for all the response -- perhaps I was fishing a little bit.

Tonight, I write because -- well, because I'm bored and not really thinking all that heavily. "Life get's pretty heavy, I wish it were light." ~LD

So I suppose that this is a lighter time. The end of the night, after all I love the night. And perhaps I should just quote OtR lyrics from here on out.

So, have you thought about those things I was talking about? About Life and Death and the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown? er...I AM, rather. Although, it is Autumn and I am feeling quite whimsical. I've been practicing not seeing finality surrounding me and dwelling on things that I cannot (nor would I want to) control. And it's not been too difficult. As it turns out, there's a lot in life that exists solely as distraction from oneself.

And, I've been dreaming again! I love to dream -- well, remember my dreams, I should say. The other night I had a dream about the upcoming Taft show mixed with some sort of arguement with Jack Abbott from the Young and the Restless. Crazy! I know. I don't even watch soap operas! (anymore)

(teehee)

heh. that's my embarrassed, but not really, laugh.

Well, I think I'ma gonna close up. (before I embarass myself further)

Good chattin' yo
-d.

tired

2005-10-07T02:57:00.000-04:00

Well, I'm tired of staring at the same fucking screen everytime I come here. So I'm updating (but not really -- so don't worry.)

Holloway (that's where I work now) is tiresome. We're working Saturday this week. And I'm not too upset about the over-time. However, people are, and aren't planning on coming in - which is why we're working in the first place. See, everyone just got all their points rolled-back on October the 1st.

Delinquents.

And I've been stuck in Amatuer City for two solid weeks, training people. I hate people sometimes. Not everyone, of course, just retarded people.

And I'm not referring to the mentaly handicapped. Just stupid people who should know better. Ya know, retards.

Enough of the bitchfest. Besides, other than work - life has been pretty alright. Living at home has it's positives, for sure. And I truly love my family.

So, I guess that's it -- the update. Cause I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

gute Nacht,
-d.

Shall we speak?

2005-09-09T01:36:00.000-04:00

Somedays I wonder when I stopped trying. I've not quite gotten to the point where I no longer care, but I do see my final destination, resting. I wonder when I accepted the fact that it does little good to fight? But that we are made to nod in agreement. There is futility in rebellion.

Have you ever had a conversation with a defeatist? It can be tiresome. There is only one point of view, and it is the same point of view as the entire of society, but it is skewed in an irksome way. And so, it becomes your whole-world goal to correct the agitation. But there is little success in this game; the defeatist will outlast any sane person by months. Society is no different, if we accept that, as individuals, we are but a microcosm of the world - complete with all the tired pecadillos.

I opened my mouth, and I said nothing - common sense, a book of prayers, a bit of song. But nothing. It is hard to speak without the air.

Paper Thoughts

2005-08-24T02:05:00.000-04:00

I wanted to take a second and say thanks for all your warm responses - they are greatly appreciated, you and your kindness.

I'm sitting here tonight, enjoying a couple of my cravings (cigarettes and chocolate milk) and wanted to transfer some thoughts that I kept on paper to this media. I would like to share some more of me with you.

. . . . . . .

I am set up straight once again - a madman in his playpen. this paper shines bright in front of me - full of all the nothingness it held before. And I am wrought with aging thoughts. First, let me light a cigarette.

There has been much troubling me lately. About God and the universe, about myself and others, and generally speaking, concerning these words now sprouting. You do not believe me? For me it is the case that words grow into existence. A thought is planted and there are signs and symbols provided. These function as light and water. The thought grows soon enough, and with enough meditation and care, the thought will blossom and produce fruit. These words are such fruit. I only pray that they are ripe for the plucking. "I have 95 things I ought to say to you."

Firstly, let me show you my world - as Ana Maria has noted, to deny the dirt is to deny God. I sit here tonight, smoking my blue Marlboros and listening to an Over the Rhine show on CD. I am a few hours away from work (and come to think of it only a few hours till it come again) and I bear the marks work has left upon me - work clothes, a smell of labor, and perhaps the slightest furrowed brow. I have the taste of bitters and grain lingering in my mouth. This is the stuff that lubricates my pen.

Shall we now delve into the more essential matter? I have said that I wanted to let you in. Did I not? to share myself completely and unencumbered? I have had many thoughts lately, and quite honestly, I have been itching to tell them to someone, anyone, with a listening ear. I miss honest conversation, even though I may steal snippets, here and there, with my father.

I am not me.

There's a thought for you. I want to talk about the first half of that sentence, in specific ~ I am. Now, if you are any sort of Christian you'll probably note that this is the name of God. If you don't believe me check the Exodus story - when Moses asks the burning bush who to tell the Pharaoh who he comes in the name of, the bush responds, Tell them I am who is call I AM sent you. Also, YAH-WEH in Hebrew directly translates to the verbiage, I am. In my mind, this is a very powerful thought - it has been for years. But what does it all mean? Well, I've had a thought.

On this great ball of rock, hurling through the universe, lives a creature called humans, and there is one distinct, undeniable trait that well all have in common. Now, I'm sure that you're wondering what kind of cliched trait I'm going to come up with, but it's not some sort of emotion or any other illogical pondering. What it is, is consciousness. We are the ones who are at every second of every day of life screaming I AM! Without this ongoing exclamation would we cease to exist? yes. We do it unconsciously as taking breath. In fact, it is with our very breath, with the beating of our hearts that we claim our existence. It is the will to live.

Another bee put a thought into my bonnet, specifically Richard Linklater in his film, Waking Life, where in one skit a wizened, old man was saying that there is but one question in life, and that was the moving from the 'no' to the 'yes.' He goes on to say that our entire lives are spent with God posing this question, "Come and join me in eternity forever" and with every breath, with the very beating of our hearts, we deny Him. But the hook is this - every life ends, and every man must die. I am at this very moment.

Because of your impurity, and trust me, the Bible is drawn - God's law is drawn - that in every man exists impurity, even (especially) the righteous man. And that is why there exists a bridge between man and God -- Christ, who died for all man's sins. Whether you asked him to or not - the deed is done.

Go and sin no more.

* * * * *

Now before I stop and read this, (for I am a vain individual, and which always tends to cease my writing) I wanted to say a few more things - less academic things, maybe, as Suitcase is being sung beautifully by Karin. Connected to the prior thought for sure, and maybe a little more about dying.

I have felt my own mortality quite a bit lately. And not just because my Uncle Floyd's passing, for I have lost people in the past and grief is an emotion familiar to me. But, getting more to the point, I have felt somewhat disconnected from this world lately. I am sure it has something to do with my recent move back to Sidney. But it's more than that. I have lately felt that the world is made up of a pack of lies - of signs and symbols and little else. Now, I understand that this is all part of going through a major life change. I know because I've done this before, however, it doesn't seem the same.

I could expound to you all I've lost. I could tell you all I've gained. But I honestly don't know that it would do any good. I will say that I miss Chica - more than I thought I might, even if I have been a bit distant with her. In truth - my distance has been selfish, and mostly to distance myself from too much pain all at once. When I hear her voice it cuts so deeply into my soul that I do not know how to bear it. The thought that she is over 800 miles away sickens me. The very thought brings tears to my eyes right now. I wonder how you would do if I asked you to cut off your leg and send it 800 miles away to live happily ever after?

And this brings me to 800 other questions that have been unable to be answered for 800 years and the knowledge that I must be ok with it all.

You're my water

You're my wine

You're my whiskey

From time to time

You're the hungar

on my bones,

All the nights, I sleep alone.

God, forgive me of my selfishness, and for my sever vanity. Let me see all the beauty in this world - for Autumn is fast approaching, and Autumn is my favorite season of life. Forgive me of my insecurities and for my natural faults. Let me be unafraid. Let me be free from spite and guilt and worry. These are the things I ask of you. In the Lord's name I pray.

amen.

. . . . . . . .

It is late now, and the night is reckoning me. Perhaps I've shared to much. (too much to be read anyway, HA!) I'm not sure if all that will scare you off, or draw you closer, maybe. Anyway, I'd be grateful if you've read this far - or if you've faked it.

you can fake it, I'll never know. heh.

along the path,

-d.

Confessions

2005-08-11T01:44:00.000-04:00

I do have some, you know?

The first, and foremost, being that I've stopped sharing myself in this space. Mostly because when I met a few apples over the past year, the people stopped being strangers and started becoming people that I cared about - more like friends, even family. Now even those of you whom I have yet to meet seem more real. And the more real people are, the more judgmental they tend to be (at least in my mind.) And it's not that I'm calling you judgmental -- it's just that I have a tendency to keep myself from the ones that I care about. It's completely my fault - none of your own.

of course, I haven't shut myself off completely. Now it's more likely that you'll get those 'toothpaste reports' that Melanie wrote about so long ago - I went to the store today, because I needed toothpaste. . . That's never what I intended. Originally I liked the idea of publishing a journal because some of my best writing came from my journals. There have been numerous occasions where I'll pull a thought, or paragraph, or even a single line from a journal entry and that will sprout into a poem, story or song. I liked the way the words flowed from me - without censor or editing. There is a natural beauty that lies within.

So, I'm here confessing this - hoping that it will lead to change. And don't go saying - oh, taliendo, your journal is fine. It's not. If you don't believe me, go back and see some of the earlier entries, before I met and starting caring about you fine people. I've let it censor me, and I an unhappy about that - so thing are going to have to change. I don't want to say "expect to be shocked" or anything so full of vanity. But I will warn you that the mind is wide expanse of terrain - much of it covered in shadows.

My first confession.
. . . . . .

There have been signs and wonders in my life abound lately, and it seems that there is life present in all things, even death or the very real possibility of it.

My Great Uncle Floyd died last Friday. He was a good man, lived a good life and has gone on to meet his maker. At least that's the way he saw life and the hereafter. Two dies prior my Uncle Rick had a massive heart attack and was care-flighted to Lima Memorial Hospital for a quintuple bypass surgery. He is once more breathing on his own, and I'm sure taking the time to hit on nurses when his wife isn't close by. A week before that, my Great Grandpa Eddie Kimbler was in the hospital for chest pain - turns out it was a bad case of indigestion and he's doing fine, especially for a 94 year old man.

These are the pains of having a large (if not oversized) family. There are many blessing along side any discomfort you may feel - you may have to trust me on that one.

And so I've taken the time, or rather my uncle Rhino took the time, to open up the word of God and read from the book Ecclesiastes. God, how I had forgotten how much I loved that book. I've read it and reread it until my mind hurts. I even found a study Bible to see what the concordance might have to say about seperate parts and found the writer telling the reader that we should discount parts of the book. Why? - because it is so full of doubt. It discounts the promise of an afterlife - and questions if there is any meaning to life whatsoever, here on earth.

And does so beautifully - poetically.

And I suppose that it echoes all the doubt that has been crawling through my head for the last couple of years. It's comforting to know that men of God suffered from the same iniquities as the rest of man, the same iniquities we suffer from today.
. . . .

Well, the light in the living room just clicked off, meaning that it's 2:05 in the morning. And I'm so tired that my body hurts. I did want to close this on a positive note, saying, I'm ok. really. I would even venture to say that I'm more than ok, better than ok. Life is slowing down, or perhaps life has always been this slow and I'm starting to learn that I can't run so fast - that when you try to run through it, you just end up falling over and hurting yourself.

So, I'm walking the path -- trotting when I don't watch myself -- and I would love it if you would come walk with me for a pace. You know, if you get bored, or tired, or you just want someone to talk to. I'll see ya then.

-d.

shutting down

2005-07-30T16:15:00.000-04:00

I've kind of shut down, creatively, emotionally, mentally quite a bit over these last few weeks. It's a defense mechanism for me -- detachment. But I think that I'm almost ready to start opening up again. And we all know that good things happen when we open ourselves up.

I've had to say goodbye to a lot of things lately. To Chica, to columbus, to a life that I had grown weary of living. It's good to be back home. It's good to have familiar and loving people around me. And it's a little frightening to see faces that I've not dwelt on for years, people who I would have once considered good friends and confidants. They feel as if I left them behind for something different, and in a way, I suppose that I did. But they shouldn't feel that I forgot about them. I wish they wouldn't feel forsaken.

So, I've found employment, and I'm about ready to start propelling myself into life again. I am ready to move forward and find a new way of living, a fresh breath of life. In many ways, it is a return to the life I abandoned so many years ago with ideas of grandeur and success. I am ready to become a craftsman in abandon of artistry. And so I pick up the smallest chisel and start to chip away at this rock that has stood before me for so long - not to create a sculpture, but to simply make sand.

meming

2005-07-22T02:16:00.000-04:00

Number of books I own:
If I would have to venture a guess, I would say around 1000. At least three bookshelves ~~full~~ cram-packed.

Reading Style:
I have long said that I am a 'binge-reader.' Meaning that once I start a book, fiction or non-fiction, I will continue to read, skipping meals and potty breaks to finish it (that is, if the book is a compelling read.) If the book is not compelling, chances are I won't finish it.

Last book I bought:
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. yeah!

Last book I read:
Same as last, HP. Before that it was a reread of Nick Hornby's High Fidelity.

Five books that mean a lot to me:
Fear and Trembling - Soren Kierkegaard
The Brothers Karamazov - Fydor Doestoevsky
1984 - George Orwell
A Wrinkle in Time - Madeline L'Engle
The Collected Works of William Shakespeare - i have three different editions

Each of these books holds a special place in my heart (even though I feel like my fifth selection is kind of a copout) for various reasons. A Wrinkle in Time is the book that made me a reader for life. It was the first story that I read that both excited and intrigued me, and even after almost 20 years the story still compells me. Shakespeare is what made me know that I was a dramatist, even before I did any real theatre for myself. Plays made more sense to me when it came to the art of storytelling; they were fuller (even without all the descriptive passages) and seemed to have the ability to reach a wider audience. 1984 is important to me, because it is the book that made me a buyer. I received an original American edition of the book when my great aunt died, and have since become a limited collector. Fear and Trembling is oh-so important to me because in some fundemental way it changed my life, or rather how I thought about life and God and all the important thing we all thought about. Kierkegaard made me appreciate philosophers and all their out of this world ideology. And The Brothers Karamazov is simply my favorite novel of all time.

well, Mel, I hope I didn't disappoint - I'm passing the baton on the sweetzayne! let us have it lady.

-d.

no recovery

2005-07-04T01:31:00.000-04:00

So, I get entirely finished with the book meme and it fucking disappeared on me. Sometimes I can't stand computers.

grrr.

Back in the Saddle

2005-06-28T00:31:00.000-04:00

I've been absent from this space for some time, so I wanted to check in, say hello and let you know that I'm coming back around. It was good to take this little break.

I suppose a lot has happened since I've last written here - but it doesn't seem so earth shattering to me. I'm back home. Back in Sidney. I'm jobless, again (ugh.) But the future doesn't look nearly so bleak to me as it did sitting in that empty apartment in Columbus.

Plus cleaning gives me a natural high. For the longest time, I didn't get it when people told me that cleaning the house could be a great stress relief - but when your material belongings are the only thing that you can bring order to, it helps to get shit straight. Plus scrubbing floors can convert plenty of emotional stress to physical strength. I suppose that it's all sort of empowering - kind of like cutting your hair, or shaving your face.

Mel, I'll get to that meme next time round. For now, I'm gonna hit the hay.

lots of love, folks,
-d.

saying goodnight

2005-06-07T09:28:00.000-04:00

I'm gonna post some more lyrics - a bit different this time though. I wrote this song a long time ago - I was dealing with some strong emotions at the time, one's that seem to be revisiting me - and I felt like sharing.

Say some words for me if you get the chance.

-d.

A lullaby (my love)
Baby Jane's Song.

baby jane, how are you
deep inside your mother's womb?
a crimson light bright shining,
so soft, beautiful and new
go to sleep now darling,
worry not your pretty head.
a father's love can't save you
from a mother's decision.

baby jane, how are you,
on this dark summer's night?
are you ready to go on now?
forget my love. forsake this life.
I finally know what pain is
I know what hurt can cost.
a brand new life so precious -
so easy made, forever lost

sleep my baby
sleep a-bye baby
forever sleep. . .

baby jane, how are you
lying deep beneath an elm?
I come to say I love you
and to show what I've found -
our love will last always,
trouble come, what may;
one day I'll see your smile
as the tears run down my face.

sleep my baby
sleep a-bye baby
forever sleep.

no savior

2005-06-06T11:00:00.000-04:00

Moth - OtR

same old question
without words
so familiar
seldom heard
if I answer
I confess
I am only
just a guess
and with my eyes
it's hard to see
with my ears it's
hard to believe that
if I ever lose my will to live
it was me that I could not forgive

there's no savior hanging on this cross
it isn't suffering we fear but loss
this is closer than I ever came
just a burning moth without a flame

isaac's knife can
cut away
all the poisoned
yesterdays
and the anger
ease it down
into the ocean
let it drown
as far as east is
from the west
I let you go
I know it's best
and my answer to the years of strife
is the way I choose to live my life

there's no savior hanging on this cross
it isn't suffering you fear but loss
when there's no one else around to blame
you're a burning moth without a flame

maybe I should take your face tonight
let you see yourself in a different light
if you were to take my place tonight
wouldn't jesus be surprised

there's no savior hanging on this cross
it isn't suffering we fear but loss
this is closer than I ever came
just a burning moth without a flame
it's an offer that you can't refuse
it's a trophy that you'll want to lose
but you'll do anything
anything
you're a burning moth without a flame

. . . .

This song has been running through my head today. Almost like I needed to hear the words sung. And when I put in my copy of Amateur Shortwave Radio, the cd player automatically skipped to number 5.

Spooky, I know.

-d.

checking in

2005-06-02T16:50:00.000-04:00

just stopping by to say hello. . .and to tell you that if you're not visiting these sites, you should.

The Huffington Post : This is simply a group of informed bloggers including men and women of congress, journalists and entertainers. Often better than the news.

Real Live Preacher : This fella is funny and poignant. And not what I would call a 'traditional' Christian - but a Christian all the same.

Timothy McSweeny's Internet Tendancy Lists : Pure hilarity!

and finally Questionable Content : quite possibly the best Internet comic out there (stepping in the shoes of greats like Schulz and Davis.)

Happy Reading!

-d.

somber mood

2005-05-24T17:37:00.000-04:00

I read Saul Bellow's Dangling Man yesterday, thus the quotes I decided to share. You can read and enjoy them or just pass through. It's not too important. Bellow is a wonderful writer, in my opinion. However, the story hit a little close to home - being cooped up alone in a small apartment. It truly will an unpleasant person make.

. . . .

So, I'm feeling kind of somber. I haven't written anything in a couple of days. I think I'm afraid my heart will break open and the words will spill out and I'll incriminate myself in one way or another. I haven't even posted on the Orchard. Not because I don't need you people, but because I don't want to tell you that I'm not coming to Nashville this weekend. You see, I don't want to disappoint - and I don't want to give you any of my saddness giving up this trip.

sorry.

I'm not sure what makes me sadder - not going to Nashville or the-other-thing-that-I-don't-want-to-talk-about.

sorry,
-d.

dangling quotes

2005-05-24T11:17:00.000-04:00

Theories of a wholly good or a wholly malevolent world strike him as foolish. Of those who believe in a wholly good world he says that they do not understand depravity. As for pessimists, the question he asks them is, "Is that all they see, such people?" For him, the world is both, and therefore it is neither. Merely to make a judgement of that kind is, to representatives of either position, a satisfaction. Whereas, to him, judgement is second to wonder, to speculation on men, drugged and clear, jealous, ambitious, good, tempted curious, each in his own time and with his customs and motives, and bearing the imprint of strangeness in the world. In a sense, everything is good because it exists. Or, good or not good, it exists, it is ineffable, and, for that reason, marvelous.

There is only one worth-while sort of work, that of the imagination.

With all the respect we seem to have for perishable stuff, we have easily accustomed ourselves to slaughter. We are all, after some fashion, the beneficiaries of that slaughter and yet we have small pity for the victims. This has not come with the war, we were ready before the war ever started; it only seems more apparent now. We do not flinch at seeing those lives struck out; nor would those who were killed have suffered any more for us, if we, not they, had been the victims. I do not like to think what we are governed by. I do not like to think about it. It is not easy work, and it is not safe. Its kindest revelation is that our senses and our imaginations are somehow incompetant.

But now I am struck by the arrogance with which I set people apart into two groups: those with worth-while ideas and those without them.

Saul Bellow, The Dangling Man

Mom Does the Beatles

2005-05-17T17:14:00.000-04:00

Not literally of course. heh.

One of my earliest and most consistant birthday memories is waking up to my mother singing,

Today is your birthday
na-na-na-na-na-na
Happy Birthday to you
na-na-na-na-na-na

Needless to say, Mom is no John Lennon or Paul McCartney. In fact, she's quite tone deaf, but that never stopped the contageous happiness that she spread in those early birthday mornings. It was a guarentee that your day would, in the very least, be full of smiles.

Now that I'm getting older, I was actually dreading this day. I've been dwelling on how I'm quite into my adulthood, although I don't act much like an adult. I've been looking closely in the mirror at the grey and balding head I sport every day. I even noticed a few new wrinkles - and not like smile-line wrinkles, but old people wrinkles.

And, despite all the negativity that's been in my mind about this recent aging, I woke up today with my mother's voice in my ear. I've been smiling ever since.

free from sin

2005-05-12T10:33:00.000-04:00

Not me. Not by any means. But I am free from judgement today, my judgement that is. I am free from the thoughts that have been beating inside my head for the last three weeks. The attack has been non-stop, and keeps me awake like someone endlessly popping bubblewrap. Pop. Pop. Pop-pop-pa-pa-Pop! A barrage of machine gunners killing the last traces of my sanity. And I am free from the reproachful eye that casts it's glare upon me, ever watchful.

Thanks God Almight, I'm free at last.

I honestly think that I've been too harsh on myself lately. And it's not that I've been necessarily disappointed in my actions or words - but that I've been striving too hard. I've been squinting into the sunset, hoping to catch a glimpse of the immortal cherub making his way towards the heavens. And I've been honestly disappointed when I've come up empty handed on all counts. I've often said that I'm a dreamer, but I do not assume the fruition of those dreams. Lately, I have. Lately I've found myself thinking of endless tomorrows that bear no resemblance to this reality. Not only do I believe that these alternate universes are possible (note that I'm an absurdist) but I have gotten it inside me that they are concrete.

Needless to say, this has caused a bit of grief and general manic behavior. But today I've given up my despair by way of losing my desires, and I've found a much happier me.

And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
~William Blake, Garden of Love (ln. 11-12)

sprouting

2005-05-09T17:14:00.000-04:00

It can be a frightening shock when you realize that you've lost faith in something that you previously thought impossible to shake. And before anyone get's their panties in a bind, I'm not talking about God or myself or anything so large (heh, I made a funny) but primarily about an idea. It can be frightening to a person when something that they once believed concrete and rooted in fact becomes loose in the soil of their minds.

This happened to me recently. Whilst lieing on my back, although not in a field of clover or anything so fairytail-ish. It was Sunday afternoon, and the weed that had sprouted and been pulled and sprouted time and again, returned - firmly planted itself in my soil. Then, I wondered when I first started considering this flower a weed. Dandelions are considered a weed afterall. Even though I think they are rather pretty. And tasty. And that they make a good prop when singing certain songs.

Mama had a baby and it's head popped off. . .

This flower danced in my breeze, as I thought a long time about who I am and what I am to other people and how I should react in this crazy world full of what we call life. And I suppose I came to a roundabout of sorts. I realized that I had not really grown out of this conundrum or changed positions at all. I had only gotten fairly good at ignoring my heart and shutting off my mind, although I liked to rely on certain poisons of our day. I also realized that I've grown rather tired of not listening to that still small voice, no matter how much pain and agitation it may cause me. I came to realize that my virtue was more important to me than my posterity, be it mental, emotional or physical.

And then I wept a bit, over all the nonsense. Flowers do need to be watered, afterall. And then I slept for a good minute. I imagine that I dreamt about that flower, wafting carelessly in my breeze, but I cannot say for certain.

lost in translation

2005-05-05T14:45:00.000-04:00

There is a piece of me that I did not bring along today. Something - an essence, if you will - that I left between the cushions and sweaty, green sheets. I'm sure that it will be waiting for me when I get home. It will greet me, tail wagging, at the door so much like a lost puppy. And although it will be happy to see me return, I will be forlorn. I will scold it's antics and for leaving piddle on the floor.

mid-construct

2005-05-02T12:19:00.000-04:00

They've been remodeling our part of the office for the past couple of weeks, and the dust, noise, and general choas is finally starting to get to me. It's hard to think around here, much less get any work done.

On top of all that, we are the lowest department here - the bottom of the food chain - facilities. That means with all the construction, restacks, etc. going on, my work load has quadrupled. Needless to say, my bosses have become overbearing with requests and expect the impossible to get done.

I'm so tired of this place, I could just walk out today.

GOSH!
-d.

out of control

2005-04-28T18:36:00.000-04:00

Ok, so life's been a little hectic lately. Including work and down time (well if you can call it that.)

I've pretty much neglected this space, and writing in general - but I don't think that's a bad thing. Sometimes you have to give up words and do a little living to have something worthwhile to say.

and I've been emotionally drained. There are so many people pleaing for help, for a shoulder, for a listening ear. I don't look at that as a bad thing. After all, "that's what friends are for," right? And I love being able to be that shoulder, to have that ear, and to actually listen - to actually care. There are too many people in this world that aren't even capable of that kind of love. They are too busy, and too self-centered.

I make strides to not become so flat.

heh. And I feel great. And I've been dreaming again (and remembering my dreams.) even if some of those dreams are really nightmares (I ain't afraid of you.) heh.

So, just checking in here. Not to say that most of the people who would read this don't see enough of my sorry as on the Orchard.

later peeps,
-fryguy.

epistles

2005-04-15T12:58:00.000-04:00

There has been a letter writing campaign at my house here of late. Emails are flying in every direction. There are words to be shared (and some words to be kept inside.) I am thankful for the invention of the Internet (thanks Al Gore!) as it allows us all to keep in touch.

Plus I'm kinda afraid of the telephone. I haven't owned one in over two years!

Yes, I know that's absurd. Get the internet and learn to write. In fact you don't even have to do that - I like snail mail just as well (if not better) than email. So grab a pen and paper and jot down a note for me. You'll feel better after you do - and I'm usually pretty good at writing back.

usually.

I was sifting through my inbox today when I found an email wishing me a Happy New year from an old friend. We had gotten together sometime before Christmas (after putting it off for a couple of months) and reaquainted ourselves. And just like that, I let her slip away again. I felt like an ass finding that letter. Estella, if you happen on this space, I'm sorry.

The best letters here of late have been written just for me. They're exercises of the mind and of the pen. They're detailed accounts of conversations between me and God. They're not even meant to be read.

Thoughts solidified in ink, like clay hardening in the fiery kiln.

Of course, all things are temporary. Well, the tangeable anyway. In the long run, I guess maybe just having the thought is permanent enough.

-d/

a loss for words

2005-04-13T09:11:00.000-04:00

This weekend was amazing. So amazing that I've had almost nothing to say about it. I am without words.

Not only were the concerts great, (Saturday night's show sneaking into my top three OtR shows of all time) but it was wonderful to spend some time with the Apples.

Saturday, Kanani, Chica and I were heading to Denny's with the rest of the crew when we had a little car trouble. We were in down town Dayton and apparently Thug-n-Hoodlum night was about to let out just two blocks south of us. The nice officer that stopped (and waited with us for over an hour) informed us that they were expecting to make over a hundred arrests between the hours of 2 and 5 am. But we had rescuers. Devon (thanks Devon!) stopped to make sure everything was ok when he saw Kanani standing on the corner of Main and Franklin. And Billiam (thanks Bill!) was kind enough to skip breakfast and let us sit in his warm car whilst waiting for AAA. After that we headed down to Cincy to spend the night and figure out what we could do to get the car up and running in the AM.

Unfortunately, car places aren't open on Sundays. doh! But everything worked out. My sister came down with her friend and they got to see their first ever OtR concert. And Chica's repairs are being done for free because, as it turns out, the part was under recall.

After saying my goodbyes Sunday night, we left the venue and started heading towards Sidney. My heart was empty and my head simply worn through. I've felt fairly vacant since leaving all of you. A good show - a good Over the Rhine show, especially - has the tendancy to leave me that way, worn, exhausted, and feeling like I've next to nothing left to give. But all in a good way. Like my emotions for a time have been put to rest because they have been on maximum overdrive for the last three days.

alright -- I'm gonna do some shout outs and close this one up.

Bill - You're the best for hauling our asses around, and being a generally awesome guy. I had a lot of fun hanging out with you his weekend.
Jame$ - It was good to see you again this weekend, bro. Now finish that damn thesis! I'm waiting. . . .
SweetZayne - You have some great hugs in you, woman! And don't ever stop pinching my ass. ;)
Janelle - Even though I didn't get to see you very much, you are a hoot. Thanks for cracking my shit up without ever having to say a word. (that B. is a lucky guy.)
Margarita - You are fantastic! Too bad your hubby couldn't be there this weekend. Looking forward to spying your top collection in the near future!
Bruce-say - You sick fucking bastard! and that's why I love me some Bruce. Next time you're going on a drink, let me know you fuck.
Mariesa - You are such a sweet woman. Thanks for the Mercury Lounge show and for letting me crash your place! I can't believe you tried to get me into your bed. ;)
Jeanne - You're simply a lot of fun. The more I get to know you, the more you're personality blooms. Thanks for all the pictures, and for just being you. :)
Keith from NY - It seems a great sense of humor runs among the Apples. You, sir, are no exception. And a mighty thanks for the DVD, it's awesome!
Dr. E - It was great meeting you. Hopefully we have more time to chat in the near future.
Daniel - It was great to meet you this weekend. Hopefully next time we'll have more time to hang out, Taft maybe? eh? eh?
Kevin - Love the art, man! I'm envious of such a bold move. . . It was great to see you again this weekend.
Sam - You are a trip girl! Next time remember to bring some extra crunk juice!
Fred - You Italian Stallion! You are one of the funniest people I've ever met, and in saying that I don't just mean funny looking! Hope to see you soon.
Belly - It was great seeing more of you this weekend. I adore your sense of humor and the general courage you show towards the world. Send some words my way.
Mauler - Despite the rumors of your ferocity, you are too sweet! I had fun seeing and hanging with you this weekend.
Kanani - I miss you terribly. It was a joy to see you again this weekend. Next time you're in town, we're going to have to find some time to share our stories.
and Chica - you know I love you. Hope you had fun this weekend.

Karin, Linford, Devon, Byron - Thanks a million for the wonderful music and memories you provide. You are an inspiration of life, for living. thank you.

I'm sure that I'm probably forgetting someone -- let me be the first to say that I'm an ass for doing so. Cheers! You all are great.

-d.

23rd post

2005-03-31T12:59:00.000-05:00

This is taken from Bethany's journal. I'm not sure the significance, but it was fun anyway.

1. Go into your Journals archives.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions

"It's almost as if by surrendering yourself to a greater understanding of other people you become better equipt to understand yourself."

blue

2005-03-30T10:40:00.000-05:00

Bluer - Over the Rhine

I cry just a little bit
Just a little bit
Everyday

Get by just a little bit
Just a little bit
That way

I know, I know
I should have known

Bluer
Than the blue devils
Bluer than this pale blue angel

Bluer than all of my troubles
Love is never far from danger

I die just a little bit
Just a little bit
Everyday

Get by just a little bit
Just a little but
That way

Let go, let go
Now that you've gone

Bluer
Than the blue devils
Bluer than this pale blue angel
Bluer than all of my troubles
Are we gonna leave here strangers

. . . . . . .

My heart is breaking a bit. If you're inclined to speak to the heavens, say a prayer for me today.

thanks,
-d.

humble pie

2005-03-28T12:04:00.000-05:00

Easter was pretty much as I expected it to be. I went to church services with my family, mostly to make an attempt to reconcile some of my mother's and I theological differences. And it worked well -- for about half the day. By the time we arrived at the second grandparents house talk about God and the like started, and of course I don't know when to keep my big mouth shut.

Truthfully, I'm glad that we got into a fight. Mainly because we always seem to skirt the heart of our issues and end up not ever really talking about them. I think because neither one of us wants to hurt the other's feelings. But Sunday some feelings were hurt -- mine and hers. She thinks that I'm a heathen and I think that she's close-minded and that was made blatantly clear. And in the end, after a few tears, we continued to agree to disagree. Maybe someday I'll be less forceful in my convictions, and maybe someday she'll realize that God is larger than the ideas presented from the little pulpit in our Pentecostal church back home. And maybe not. For me it is good enough to know that her fear for my soul is born out of pure love and that makes me feel blessed.

-d.

enough already

2005-03-25T17:33:00.000-05:00

This pretty much sums it up. . .

hope you all have a good weekend and a happy Easter.

-dan

She - Over the Rhine

What she would like to do
Is get you out of her head
She's tried every trick
She's so sick of thinking about it

What's so special about you
You're an ache she's learned to crave
You're a blade too dull to raise

But she cuts herself
On you every night
She's just dying
To lay down the knife

What she would love to do
Is get you out of her bed
She's played it over and over and over
In her head

But she cuts herself
On you every night
She's just dying
To lay down the knife

She clings to what's familiar
She thinks a change would kill her

What she ought to do
Is put a gun to your head
For all the things you said and did

But what she will not do
Is let you go before you're gone
It's everything that's ever been wrong
But it's all she's ever known

So she cuts herself on you every night
She's just dyin' to lay down her life

:ph34r:

2005-03-23T16:33:00.000-05:00

I was going to treat you all to the second part of the story I posted yesterday (entitled CASHVILLE), but it's been a busy day here at work and I needed to take a minute to clear these aching thoughts from my head.

I've been harboring a lot of fear lately. And I don't really have anyone that I want to talk to about this -- mostly because the person that I would normally talk to is involved. heh. That does tend to mess things up a bit.

So,

I'm afraid that I might say something that's going to tear everything apart.
I'm afraid that I won't say anything at all.
I'm afraid that I've not loved enough.
I'm afraid that I've loved way too much.
I'm afraid that this is all for nothing.
I'm afraid that I've been changed forever, and that I may never recover.
I'm afraid of saying yes and I'm afraid of saying no.
I'm afraid that you won't understand.
I'm afraid that you'll understand all too well.
I'm afraid that I'll hurt you.
I'm afraid of yesterday, today and what tomorrow has yet to bring.

And, that's only scratching the surface. All of this comes out of anger and frustration and an aching heart. And I want you to understand that I'm not intentionally being mean -- There's just too much that's too wrong with this relationship for it to be a good thing.

I hate fear.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My! (((((((((((broken and bruised)))))))))))

2005-03-22T09:37:00.000-05:00

Let me preface this tale by saying that part of this story is going to be false, and some parts will be truer than others. I really don't mean to lie to you, but you see, I don't really know the actually reality of what happened. (do we ever?)

. . . .

My weekend started off with a bang. It was St. Patty's Day, and although I had no intentions of taking the following Friday off, it seemed to be my fate. GMoney and I got home from work around 5:30. We changed clothes and headed up to the OTC Commons for free kegs of green beer, MinuteMan Pizza, and eye-candy to boot. Chris and Liz and some other people we knew were there, so we walked around chatting it up for about an hour. By that time the kegs had all but dried up and the pizza boxes were cleared away so that some drunk girl could climb on the counter for some kind of amateur hour dancing contest. We bowed out.

Not to say that we went home.

Even though GMoney had plans with some ladies later in the evening, I convinced him to go to Gallo's Tap Room to have another green beer with me and maybe a shot of some good Irish whiskey. It was St. Patty's Day, after all. And of course, he obliged my alcoholic endeavors. We got to Gallo's and the place was packed, with some old guy up front playing the guitar and singing Jimmy Buffett songs. All in all, the scene was pretty lame, but the Jameson really helped. We walked around the crowded bar for thirty minutes before we could get served and by that time I ordered four drinks -- I figured if it was that hard to get some beer, we had better stock up while the 'getting was good,' as they say. The old man playing up front finished up with a dreary rendition of Mustang Sally, hung his guitar by its neck and started making his way through the crowd. Of course, I immediately found him next to me and was forced to buy him a tequila.

We soon left the bar in favor of drinking beer in our living room. GMoney had to redress himself for Senior Crawl and I was still thinking about the half empty plans I had made earlier. We joked around until about ten, when he had to leave for the meet up at some girl's apartment he had never been to. I decided that it wasn't good to be alone in my nearly drunken state, so I decided to keep my plans and headed out to Traditions. When I stepped in the door there was some Pink Floyd loud on the jukebox and my favorite barkeep was serving. I pushed my way through the crowd and ordered another beer and a shot of Jagermeister to keep the party going. I rounded the bar in hopes of finding Chica there and I was not too disappointed.

Soon the story is going to get a little fuzzy.

Chica and I chatted it up for a while, talking about the stuff and fluff of our lives, all the while drinking more beer. I ordered one last round for the people around and we drank to good health and good times to come. That was the point I decided I had better take my sorry ass home. I strapped the Lincolns on tight and readied myself for a walk in the cold. That's when my night turned sour. I didn't get 100 yards from the bar when three Mexicans jumped out from behind a dumpster and demanded everything I had. In my defense, the only reason I wasn't quick to meet their demands was the severe amount of alcohol in my blood. In the end it didn't matter. The biggest one hit me square across the jaw, his fist coming completely around my head. This, in turn, lead to me rolling around on the ground and cursing up a storm. I couldn't really understand what they were saying, a jarble of Spanish and poor, heavily accented English, so I threw my cd player over the lot of them just so that they couldn't have it. I winced as the whole thing smashed in the parking lot, sending my new Jack Johnson CD flying. I simultaneously received a swift kick in the gut, knocking out what was left of the air inside my lungs. After that, I was pretty much done fighting and I handed over the contents of my pockets without saying a word. The little guy kicked me once more for good measure, took my hat, and they took of laughing in the night. Thankfully, I got home in one piece - just $200 dollars poorer.

No wait -- that's not what happened at all. . .

The last thing I remember is telling Leslie that I love her. And that even if she had a real good guy at home, that I didn't care and that I would love her anyway. I suppose that's what drunk people are supposed to do. After confessing my undying love, I walked back to where Chica and Hector were standing and offered them a toast. We finished off the shots of Jagermiester and the rest of our beer. As soon as the last of the liquor hit my stomach, I knew my expiration date was way over due. I kissed Chica goodnight, shook Hector's hand and gather my stuff, knowing that it was going to be an adventurous walk home. I left the bar, pointed myself towards my house and started walking. Unfortunately, the shortest distance between two points is not always a straight line.

The next thing I remember is crashing through the woods, and even though it didn't seem strange to me then, it is a little peculiar to me now. It's strange because there really aren't any woods even near my apartment, much less in between my starting point and my destination. Regardless, I was walking through the woods and with little concern to the branches slapping at my face and body or the relentless thorns grabbing at my every motion. My daze was broken the moment I snagged my foot on a tree root, catapulting my body, head over foot, down an eight-foot embankment. When I had finally come to all my senses, I realized to my demise, I landed in a creek bed. Luckily, it was dry. I brushed myself off, and by the grace of God alone found my way out of the woods and onto my couch.

The next morning I woke with my entire body aching from head to toe, not to mention a mouth so full of cotton you could have started a fire just by rubbing two sticks together. I beat on my alarm clock until after my shift had started. Time had gotten the better of me, and so I relented, called my boss and off of Friday's work. I told him that I turned my ankle going up the stairs the night before, and I didn't have a way into work because GMoney hadn't come home yet. He didn't expect me to walk to the bus stop and so he offered a recommendation of "put some ice on it" and he would see me on Monday.

This is the only reality that exists and is true. After all this, the story only gets crazy.

bunk post

2005-03-16T17:29:00.000-05:00

Man, was that last post bunk, or what?

well, if you liked it so much, have another. . .

. . . . . . .

and on another note, if you're not reading this strip, I suggest you start now so that you may have a chance to catch up :

Questionable Content.

why? cause it's funny as hell, that's why.

okbye,
-d.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being Me

2005-03-15T09:06:00.000-05:00

I had this over-dramatized article about my life and weekend and everything worked up, and it was full of self-loathing and personal revelation and perhaps a little hope.

Then I had a Chipotle burrito and didn't feel so crappy anymore. So I decided not to share it here.

That pretty much sums up the unbearable lightness of being me.

-d.

Sailing Away

2005-03-09T08:48:00.000-05:00

Sail Away With Me by David Grey

Sail away with me, honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now

Crazy skies all wild above me now
Winter howling at my face
And everything I held so dear
Disappeared without a trace
Oh all the times I've tasted love
Never knew quite what I had
Little Darling if you hear me now
Never needed you so bad
Spinning round inside my head

Sail away with me honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now

I've been talking drunken gibberish
Falling in and out of bars
Trying to find some explanation here
For the way some people are
How did it ever come so far

Sail away with me honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now
Sail away with me honey
I put my heart in your hands
Sail away with me honey now, now, now
Sail away with me
What will be will be
I wanna hold you now
. . . . . . .

I was listening to White Ladder on my way to work this morning, and thinking about the connected content of a lot of male-written blogs I've read lately. It seems that we all have something in common. Something I'm quite sure is not a good thing -- it's not really a bad joint either, just a swamp of mediocrity.

It seems that upon entering out mid-twenties laziness and apathy started taking over, and the passion that we had previously expressed towards changing the world had vanished like a fart in the wind. Perhaps it's the mundane activity that we face of the work world. Upon leaving school, one is forced to find a job. Whether or not that job lines up with our personal goals has little relevance on if we can or cannot pay the rent and afford to eat. After spending a few years simply working to meet ends, the hope for a better tomorrow starts to dwindle. After all, we watched our fathers bitch and complain about being stuck in the same crappy positions for the last twenty years. Why should we assume our fate to be any different?

So we fill our time with 'drunken gibberish.' Some of us more literally than others. And amidst all the useless talk we begin to doubt even our own words, seeing as how they've betrayed us as liars just years before. I didn't fly to England and spend that year backpacking around Europe. I didn't write that first novel before I turned twenty-three. I didn't take the time to make every second of love count. I lied about all those things. And now, I am left with self-doubt. I've stopped asking myself if my goals are attainable, because I fail to even work towards completing any of them. I'm not even sure what I want to do anymore. Sometimes, I fail to even recognize who I've become.

The nail in the coffin is love. And I'm not going to whine about my love life here (or lack thereof.) But I do want to say that it's not appetizing any longer. There's no excitement - not even in the chase. This is not to say that I've stopped valuing love, or that I don't need your love to get along - it is, in fact, the only thing that keeps me going. But I remember a time that I wanted to love everyone and everything. I wanted to suffocate in the love of the world. And when I look in my heart where that longing used to be, there's just this numbness that says "I'm here. Still beating, but I'm not sure why."

The problem with the title of this post is that I don't think escapism is the answer. Neither is more apathy. The only other problem is that I can't find the motivation in myself to change or do anything at all. So this isn't a cry for sympathy, or a chance for you to say, "ahhh, chin up there buckeroo." Maybe like Brandon said, just come over and kick me until I get up and do something. heh.

-d.

influenza

2005-03-04T08:41:00.000-05:00

I'm sick.

I've been sick for nearly a week now, and it appears that I may be getting worse. But don't worry about me too much -- I got much better through the middle of the week. I suppose it's my fate to ruin two consecutive weekends in a row.

And I've made plans on top of plans for the weekend. And I don't feel like doing anything, except for maybe not talking, as to save my throat from more pain. Maybe I'll find a lot of people who need a good listening ear and little advice.

So, I think I'll sit here today and do the crossword in the Dispatch and try to take it easy in hopes of finding better health soon. Hope that you all are doing well where ever you are right now.

-d.

all apologies

2005-03-01T08:40:00.000-05:00

perhaps I offended you with my vulgarity?

Fear and Loathing, bits and pieces (pt. 2)

2005-02-22T10:51:00.000-05:00

"You never think about anyone else. It's always you, you, you," she whimpers and flops down on the king-sized, hotel bed.

"Well, I'm a narcissist, honey. What do you expect?" I turn away from her to throw back the few painkillers in my pocket and tip up the bottle of Wild Turkey I’m holding. We’ve arrived in this dusty town just minutes before, but I am more than ready to go, "We have work to do. Get me my shaving kit." I say, unlit cigarette still dangling from the corner of my lip.

This is life on the road: chaotic, ravenous, and unforgiving to say the least.

Sherry starts to cry a bit, and even more importantly, she hasn't made a single move to bring me my shaving kit. "What are you doing now? Can't you see that I'm sobering?" I take a step nearer the bed, although I am still weary of the swirling floral patterns and little marching automatons circling the duvet. "eh, do you have my bag?" I ask, softening my voice a little. She stops crying almost immediately and with a sniff, lifts her head to offer a look full of accusations.

“You are a worthless piece of shit!” She screams and starts throwing clothes from the open suitcase lying beside her; a pair of pink lace panties lands atop my head. “I can’t believe I ever drove out here with you! And now, what am I going to do? Where can I go?” Her anger peaks. “You! You’re worse than shit – You shit-eating son of a bitch!” In her rage she has grown nearly twelve feet tall. “All you do is booze and smoke and get higher. I don’t think I’ve seen you sober for three months! Good-bye!” And with those words and a final “hrmph!” Sherry attacks the door, throws her self into the open air and then slams the world shut around me.

The last blow sends me sprawling on the floor wondering exactly what I had done to piss her off this time. “Fuck.” Now I’m alone. “FUCK!” I scream, wildly. There are no better words to describe the kind of panic that will sweep over a man trapped in a bad acid trip and left to his own devices. Shakily, I crawl to the edge of the bed and boost myself up far enough to spy the remnants of a carefully packed suitcase. In the midst of the calamity I see my golden egg.

Shaving kits are notorious hiding spots for junkies, pill poppers, dope heads and boozehounds. I think it must be the convenience of having a world of intoxication wrapped up and laid out neatly in medicine bottles, glass vials, twisted baggies and little bottles of liquor. Plus, it’s right next to your razor blades – just in case the situation, staggering, leads you into dire straights.

I carelessly snake my arm out across the bed, inching my way toward a means to even out my high, when all of the sudden I realize that I’m being attacked, “Get the fuck off of me, you goddamn army ants!” I grab my shirtsleeve and yank on it violently trying to knock the mongrels off. Unfortunately, I only succeed in ripping my sleeve off, giving the bastards open access to my bare skin. “Gah! FUCK!” I scream as I roll around, mercilessly beating my hand across the hotel room floor and into the hard linoleum of the bathroom.

When I next open my eyes, the insects are gone but have left my right arm in ruins. I find a little composure and slide up the side of the bathroom sink, turn the faucet, and submerse myself in the cool, natural stream. And then, in the following seconds, something terrible happens – all is lost. I turn my head in hopes of reorienting myself towards the bed and my bag of wholesome goodies, only to find the drugs and booze strewn haphazardly across the floor. Apparently I had gotten to my prize earlier than I previously thought, “either that, or the ants sabotaged me.”

There are bits and pieces everywhere. There are pills ground into the carpet, six mini-bottles of Vodka shattered and wasted, a pool of glass and blood and cocaine seeping in the corner, and marijuana thrown carelessly about. “There has to be something left, something not ruined in all of this.” I spring to the floor in hopes of discovering some hidden treasure. Maybe just one hit of acid. Maybe some mescaline tablets. “Who knows?” I mutter to myself digging through the coarse industrial carpet that only rinky-dink hotels and cheap businesses have. And then I see it: a half bottle of Vicodin that had narrowly escaped the plunder.

I reach under the bed and grab the bottle, screw off the top and quickly take all three pills in my mouth. I start to chew, not minding the acrid taste of the medicine. “Although something to drink isn’t a bad idea,” I say, while I continue to look about the room for something, anything salvageable. To my surprise, the Wild Turkey is turned on its side but miraculously remains a quarter full. The bottle is at my lips before I can close my eyes; I drain the liquor in four deep swigs and lay my head on the carpet. Now, it’s my turn to cry.

Fear and Loathing the Bits and Pieces

2005-02-21T10:58:00.000-05:00

This weekend was a whirlwind. (say that three times fast.) Lots of booze and other 'extra-curriculars' in pure Hunter S. Thompson style. And only did I learn today, after watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas on Sunday whilst imbimbing the poisons of this earth, that the writer had passed. er, committed suicide. whatever. I won't go on here about how the writer was a great man or a literary genius or anything like that. I'm not sure that any of those titles would fit him. But I can say that his style was to be admired (by me and a couple of my friends at least.) We found him in the same shelves that held Jack Kerouac and Ken Kesey. He was an American writer and an original voice - for those things he will be missed.

. . . .

Our alcohol fueled weekend was kicked off with some visitors. Adam P. and his new fiance were driving through CBus on Friday night and wanted to have dinner with GMoney and I. Adam, GMoney and I go way back -- all the way to the fifth grade -- and so it's nice to get together when we can and reminisce about our younger days. We decided on TGIF's for dinner and drinks (although Adam didn't drink because he had to drive on to Dayton before his night was to end) and before we could order our food, Chica and her date showed up at our table. It was a surprise for everyone there - how did we pick the same restaurant in this big cow town? and weren't they supposed to be at a rock concert? -- one that was filled with hurried introductions and ackward pauses. After dinner, GMoney and I headed back home to watch movies and generally not move or think too much for the rest of the night. Fridays are sluggish what with an entire work week still hanging close overhead.

Saturday, on the otherhand, is usually an adventerous day. Chica woke me up about 10:30 and carted me off to the Waffle House before I could say no (or even wash my face.) Although I did manage to throw on some different clothes and brush my teeth before I was wisked out the door. The rest of the day went the way of more debauchery and drinking and other items of general fun. I watched more movies (Anchorman and Friday Night Lights) before finding myself inebriated (again.) And since there is little to do while drunk, except to keep drinking, I did just that. I suppose that I did spend a few minutes lamenting how poorly this Lent is going for me. I would be even more upset, but for the fact that I'm just not trying all that hard.

the Sabbath was like I said. More debauchery in memori of great American writers gone before me. I didn't take the time this weekend to think much at all. Most of the decisions I made were really made for me and I spent zero minutes contemplating the existence of the universe.

It was a lovely time.

-d.

Drunkard's Prayer

2005-02-17T10:23:00.001-05:00

You're my water.
You're my wine.
You're my whiskey
From time to time.

You're the hunger
On my bones.
All the night's
I sleep alone.

Sweet intoxication when you're words wash over me.
Whether or not your lips move, You speak to me.

Like an ocean,
without waves,
You're the movement
that I crave.

And in that motion
I long to drown,
And be lost
not to be found.

You're my water
You're my wine
You're my whiskey
From time to time.
. . . . . .

The new Over the Rhine album comes out March 29th.

I am sick with anticipation.

V-Day Weekend

2005-02-14T16:20:00.000-05:00

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Even though I can't really ever remember having a v-day worth celebrating, I don't hate on this day like a lot of other people. Maybe it's because I don't really mind being single (most of the time). More than likely, it's because of my severe love for all things chocolate. And if there's anything that's guarenteed on v-day it's lots-o-choco!

So, I had a fairly entertaining weekend. GMoney and I went down to campus to see some friends. Unfortunately, they had left town unannounced (not as if they check in with us,) and rather than lament the hour bus ride we decided to make the most and check out some campus bars. Besides, it was Friday night and kind of warm, and well -- campus ladies, come on! We went to an old dive called the Out-R-Inn. Or maybe that's Out-R-In. (I'm not really sure if it's supposed to be a psuedo-motel or directional advice.) The bar was a lot of fun, seeing as I'm not that social of a person and all. We sat around there playing pool and drinking cocktails for about four hours, until I decided it was high time to run down to Flying Pizza before catching a taxi back home.

Saturday we sat around the house and watched a few movies (Collateral was amazing, while Mr 3000 was mediocre.) Later that night, we went out with our neighbor and her visiting beau from Pittsburgh to this little tavern near where we all live. Everyone was having a good time (shooting pool, again) until some ruffians decided it would be ok to crack loud remarks about the ladies who were with us. In case you didn't know my friends + liquor + tempers = a bad time. The guys in the bar were some first class assholes really, but (probably because we were being even louder) the bouncer decided to ask us to leave. Nothing bad came of it really -- we left for home and ended up drinking for another couple of hours and laughing about the whole ordeal.

Sunday was great! as I only left the house once (an only then to scrounge for food.) I watched about half of Ray before I nodded off into an afternoon slumber. When I awoke I had a night of the boobtube what with the new Simpsons on and the Grammys (Plus, AdultSwim played American Dad at 11:30 -- lucky for me since I fell asleep during the premier after the Superbowl.)

And that brings us back to a V-day. Hope ya'll have a good one.

-d.

tripping dogs

2005-02-08T13:10:00.000-05:00

So I spent some time in meditation last night. It's been a long time since I've pulled out my mat, lit a few candles and went to work detaching myself from the universe. I never really followed any guidlines when I first started meditating, and I've never spent much thought on a destination or goal -- for me it's a good supplement for prayer. The experience can be a lot more centered on me and it can be totally outside of myself. Plus I like the mental rush that comes along with the journey.

And all day today I feel like someone has been piping Bobby McFerrin through my brain,

Here is a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note
Don't worry be happy
In every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy...

So I suppose the meditation really did the job. Plus I think it's made me a bit more aggressive in making my mind a more public place. heh. I'm usually a pretty quiet, reserved guy -- but today I've wanted to tell my boss where to go and how to get there, several times. eh, but that's work and work's been sucking right now and I don't want to talk about that.

Because I'm not worrying about it. I ain't worrying about shit today.

::jivesalongsnappinghisfingers::

Exeunt stage right
-d.

crux

2005-02-07T14:04:00.000-05:00

I don't even feel like writing this. Most of my thoughts have been all for the ink and page lately. Not because I don't feel like sharing (although that is a small part of it) but because it feels better. The spaces in my head line up better with the spaces between the endless reams of blue-lined pages.

And the tapping of these keys will probably be the end of me.

more later? probably not. But I hope you all have a good week.

-d.

before ten o'clock

2005-02-01T09:10:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since I've written here in the morning. I usually come in and drink my coffee and read other's blogs before making my way over to the Orchard. After I've made my way through that material (and make a few posts) I usually check the weather and world news. I say usually because this isn't a daily occurance.

So all that got me thinking, I've let myself get into a morning routine (something that I abhor.) And not because it doesn't make life easier, that is in fact the nature of routine, but because it makes life predictable. It stifles creativity. So, today I'm breaking out a little and writing in this space before ten o'clock. I know that's not very creative, but who knows? maybe it'll throw the rest of the day into a whirlwind. heh.

I don't even have anything to say. . .
-d.

new day, new week, new year

2005-01-31T10:39:00.000-05:00

I've been avoiding this space lately. Not ignoring, but avoiding. And I think that it' been healthy for me (for the most part.) What can I say? I've had a lot on my mind lately.

And so I got away this weekend. My sister drove up on Friday and picked me up from work. We did the go-out thing and went and had dinner and a couple of drinks. We talked about our perspectives on where we were from and where that was leading us. My sister's really great for doing that.

Saturday we drove to our hometown. There's nothing really better for clearing my head than seeing my mom. I don't really know why -- I guess that I'm still a big baby who needs a hug from his mommy every now and again. Mom and I didn't even really talk about what's bothering me, we don't need to. It's just nice to be near her, and to listen to her singing hymns under her breath while she makes a meal for her family. It's nice to have a place that still feels like home, no matter how long you've been gone.

And I chatted with my Dad. Mostly about nothing. We talk about work and politics and faith a little too. My Father is a realist - not to say that he doesn't see positives in world, he simply is always preparing for the worst. I have not always held that quality of his in high regard, but as I've gotten older it's taught me that the worst sometimes does happen and it goes by a whole lot smoother if you've at least acknowledged its possibility. Thanks to his foresight, I've been saved from trouble on a number of occasions. Hopefully he knows that I'll pay him back for all that love one of these days.

And I went sledding with my little brother and sister. They're so cute and prepubesent. I love being a big brother, sometimes. nah, scratch that -- all the time.

So it was a whole lotta family for me this weekend. And some healing to be sure. Hope you find some healing this week too.

-d.

a loss of inspiration

2005-01-24T16:18:00.000-05:00

I spent the bus ride into work this morning thinking about eternity. Well, not entirely about eternity, but about mortality and infinity and an end of things, and, yes - about death too. But everytime I sit down to write something in this space regarding that thought I'm side-tracked into doing something else. And by the time I get around to coming back to the thought, it's gone - or atleast a whole lot less eloquent than I first imagined it. Maybe I've not undone all the wrinkles yet. Maybe I'm just not ready to share.

I guess I've been kind of freaking out lately (in my mind) about finishing some thoughts. You know, really laying them down and not picking them up ever again. The thing is, I'm not afraid of my own mortality; I do not fear dying. I've not been afraid of that passing for years now. But lately I've been thinking about all the things that I'm getting ready to leave behind (or perhaps, the things that are getting ready to leave me behind), and I just don't think I'm ready. I'm not sure if I'm capable of handling that change, and I'm definitely not ready to accept the loss.

That's what death is (in my mind, anyway) -- a change, a loss -- the rest lies in perspective.

. . . . .

On Wednesday, it'll be a year since my Grandpa died. My Pops. He was a great man, and a huge part of my life. He lived with my family from the time I was six until I turned twelve or thirteen maybe. I suppose that some of these thoughts are springing from my missing him. And some of them are from this anxiety I've been having about my bestfriend moving fourteen thousand miles away. (I exaggerate)

I hope you all have a good day. many blessings to you and yours.

-d.

vacation

2005-01-20T13:47:00.000-05:00

I've not been around this space this week. Partly because my co-worker is on vacation, and partly because I've nothing to say, really. Even with Antoine gone, I've plenty of time to goof off and do my own thing (if you don't believe me saunter over to the Orchard and take a look for yourself.)

So, I'm just checking in. Like a kid calling his mom at 10:30 on Friday night. That was the cutoff, anyway. At 10:30 it was check in one last time, and then sneak in the house as quietly as possible in the wee hours of the morning. Mom always knew when I came in though -- but she never really said anything about it. hmm....that's me Mam. She's a good mom.

-d.

Some follow-up thoughts on Despair

2005-01-17T14:17:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling it all over my heart today. It's usually there, somewhere, deep in the back corner and hiding, but today the iron fist has wrapped itself around me and it's squeezing. And for no apparent reason whatsoever.

Feelings like I'm having today are different than the inexplicable happiness or saddness that will pop up at different times during the day. It's deeper than that. It lies somewhere in the gut and nags at the heart and mind, making sure the smothering effect is ever-present. In the end, there's not a whole lot one can do with such a feeling - it is, after all, just a feeling.

. . . . . . .

Last time I wanted to write about the beauty which is love and how we can use that beauty to battle the clenches of despair. Today, I want to talk about the beauty of despair. Well, perhaps it's not despair, exactly, but what I'm trying to communicate is possibly despair's first cousin - pain. Pain is the effect despair has on a person, and pain is a weapon we must use.

I've a question to ask you: What is the opposite of love? Think about it before you answer. . . I can wait.
.
.
.
.
.
I've asked many people this same question, and time and time again I receive the same incorrect answer : hate. That's wrong. Hate is an emotion fabricated by humans. There are no other animals in the world that experience hate. The opposite of love is pain. And amazingly enough, the greatest love is born out of pain and sacrifice; the greastest love is compassion.

Now, you're probably saying to yourself, "what the hell does this guy know? I know dan and he's just some punk with crazy, half-baked ideas about the world and he's clearly, CLEARLY, talking out of his ass this time." You might even be right. But my opinion stands that the greatest love that has ever existed was brought to light on this earth by the man Jesus the Christ. His compassion for the world is talked about and has been talked about for two millenia now. There was even a multi-million dollar movie made about the "passion." And I think old Mel got something right in showing what horrific pains Christ had to go through to reach the keys to the kingdom. You see, the love that Christ had for the world would have been useless, were it not for the pain and sacrifice that He endured. Love, like many other spirits, is only apparent in action. Without the sacrifice, without pain, the love endureth not.

When Christ calls His people to follow Him, what He is requiring is pain and sacrifice. By sacrificing ourselves to the good of others, and most imporantly to the will of God, we open ourselves up to the possibility for love, for compassion, for understanding, and ultimately - for truth. Perhaps it could be that in our moment of greatest despair, we could find an even greater love.

. . . . . . .
-d.

Late-Night Drive-Thru

2005-01-13T23:41:00.000-05:00

It's twenty til midnight and I'm sitting in my living room, getting ready to fall asleep. Well, actually I'm going to put on Good Dog, Bad Dog and think about life for a while. Who knows what can come of good music.

I'm tired tonight. I've been tired all day long, and I'm not sure why. I got plenty of sleep last night. In fact, I had to fight through the last hour and a half. Not that it was all that hard. For years now, when I can't sleep, I just close my eyes and pretend until I get there. Some times the transistion is so smooth that I'll be dreaming before I realize I've ever left my couch. One minute, I'll be humming along, "Go down easy, baby. Go down slow. Take all the time you need, and don't let go. . ." and the next minute I'll be on a beach of white sand having an arguement about a Dostdoevsky novel with a creature that can only be described as a lobstrosity. (Think Dr. Zoidberg, only a lot bigger and a whole lot meaner looking.) But, I'm rarely afraid in my dreams; after all, they're not real.

So, I've put that album on. Shall we get to the meat of things? On to a "me you would not recognize?" I think it may be that time.

. . . . .
I want to talk to you about the beauty I've seen lately. Not because life is beautiful (although, I think it is) but because there's far too much despair in the world today. And when people get bogged down in the myre of their own self - in their problems, and needs, and routines - they have a real difficulty seeing past that. Despair will wrap itself around you; it is a cruel keeper that suffocates all unfortunate enough to cross its path. When that happens, you often need someone else to point out the beauty in the world.

First, and foremost, there is love. It's simple as that. The love of a parent and child, laughing in the sun. The love of a brother, and of one who stands with you when darkeness bodes. The love of another, so sweet, mere words can do it no justice. And if you can not find love in these places, there is always the love of the light itself; the warmth the sun shines down upon us. The quenching love of the softest rain. It is the love of my God and yours.

To find love you must open yourself, and give freely. It is the polar opposite of despair - that is about taking and consuming with an insatiable hunger. It is the healer and the light. As a wise Beatle once wrote, "In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." You must first learn to give in order to receive.
. . . . .

I'm tired tonight. And I think it's time to sleep.

Being Brash

2005-01-12T13:14:00.000-05:00

I'm tired of trying to constantly walk on eggshells and please other people. I'm tired of giving up the things I want and the time that I need to spend on my own efforts for other people's causes. It just gets to be frustrating after a while.

So, I'm going to try and not do that anymore. I mean, I'm a pleaser. a giver. And I know that I'll never divorce myself from that initiative. But I really need to start being a bit more selfish - for my own good. I think that the first steps are already in place, and the journey is set. I just hope that I don't lose my way from this path (again.) I say again, because even in my short 23 years, this is not the first time I've had to step back and make a decision to not please the people around me. It's a very hard thing for me. I hate to see that kind of dissapointment in another's face, especially if it's someone that I genuinely care about.

Doing this has made me a much happier, more carefree person the last few days. It's made me sleep better at night and not mind waking to a new day. And it's not like I had to blow up and tell someone off, or be hot-headed about anything. The change has to start internally, and the blowing up only needs to happen if you ignore that inner voice (telling you to help yourself, NOW!) for too long.

I feel free. And freedom's always a good thing.

-d.

Another Day

2005-01-10T15:03:00.001-05:00

It's a Monday of great magnitude here, bringing in all the Monday blahs that are typical. Another day at work. More mail to be sorted, delivered, rerouted, redelivered. Packages to be checked in, scanned into the system, scanned to be delivered, signed for, co-signed for, paper processed, scanned out of the system, and shipped. There's also ample time to sit here and pluck away at the keys.

My weekend was pretty blah too. I went home to see the fam-damn-ily. Mostly because I wanted to see my Mom, but also to help GMoney clear out the damage caused by the ice storm we got last week. Well, it only rained here - Mom and Dad got 6in of snow with 2in of ice on top. The world was coated in glass.

I wish I had some pictures to share. It was really beautiful. :)
-d.

new blog

2005-01-07T14:38:00.000-05:00

Check out the start of a brand new collaborative blog here.

Some Apples and I have decided that enough is enough and it's time that we speak out against the defamation of our faith. We will no longer stand idly by as the name of the Lord is drug through the mud in hopes of stirring support for the "christian" conservative agenda.

A big thanks to Melanie for having the courage to speak out, raise awareness, and encourage the rest of us to do the same. You're my hero today, Mel.

-d.

feeling the rain

2005-01-05T13:07:00.000-05:00

The rain is making me weepy today. But not a bad kind of weepy. It's the kind of gushing and of bursting forth into new light. and I've not even cried.

But then again, I'm at work and my co-workers would probably find it a little strange to see a grown man felling tears openly and in public.

I feel.

I feel dissapointed. In myself and in others around me. I feel dissapointed at the way I've been handling stress lately. It's not even big stress, but the little kind of stress that eats away at your heart and mind - the kind that won't let you sleep for days at a time. All over insurmountable nothingness.

It's nothing, really.

But I do need to change something. Maybe everything. That's something that I've been feeling for months now. The time has come to confront my ghosts, to set the past straight, and to gain new insight into my future existence. Otherwise the future must only grow dimmer and dimmer until not even the smallest flicker of light remains.

and that would be my own personal tragedy.

. . . . .

2005

2005-01-03T09:00:00.000-05:00

It doesn't really feel different at all. And I'm reminded of a Sandra Cisneros story called "eleven" where the main character has a less than joyous birthday and doesn't feel eleven at all. I guess it does take a few moments for the realization to set in.

I had a quiet New Years Eve. GMoney and I decided to forsake all the hoop-la and stay in. Not to say that we didn't get quite snookered. But I had a head cold and didn't feel all that well. With the booze on top of the cold medicine I was taking it quickly became a challenge to even make it to the midnight ball dropping ceremony. I was out cold by 12:08.

New Years Day was a bit more festive. Chica and I drove down to Jay and Kristen's house to eat pork and sauerkraut and socialize with the socialites. I have a great love for these folks - good, artsy folks - and it was a pleasure to relax with them on the first day of the year. The rest of the weekend was used for rest and I got plenty of it. heh.

and I got vacation today! heh. My new years present! But alas, I am here, working on the holiday. :(

My hope for everyone is that they have a joyous and prosperous year.

-d.

Walking in a Cloud

2004-12-30T15:17:00.000-05:00

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::

2004-12-29T14:24:00.000-05:00

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!

2004-12-27T13:20:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-20T15:06:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-17T14:30:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-13T16:21:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-10T16:39:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-07T15:03:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-06T10:51:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-03T13:15:00.000-05:00

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)

2004-12-02T13:34:00.000-05:00

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

2004-12-01T13:21:00.000-05:00

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.

WEEKEND UPDATE

2004-11-30T09:08:00.001-05:00

with Tina Fey.

heh. That woman rocks.

So, Thanksgiving was a blast. I'm not going to go into a bunch of details, but it was a lot of good family time and whatnot. I got to eat like I've never eaten before (well, at least for a couple of years) and I got to play music with Rhino and my G-pa and my little brother. We're a regular ole bluegrass band in the making.

Plus it was my five year highschool reunion this past weekend. When I first received the invitation I was pretty excited to perhaps see some of my old friends and catch up on what's been going on in their lives over the last few years. Unfortunately, none of the people that I really wanted to see showed up. Well, except Adam and his fiance Bethany. It's always good to see those kids. I did get to have a few drinks and tell the people that I didn't like in highschool that I still don't care for them (they were the same uppity bitches as I remembered them.) That pulled a few chucks from the people standing around. heh.

Yes, the weekend was good. and fast. And now it's Tuesday and I'm back at work. Back to the regular old life of work-couch-sleep.

It's a good life.
-d.

blurple

2004-11-23T14:02:00.000-05:00

It's kind of a mix of blue and purple.

My eyes see differently than other's, as I've had a red/green color deficiency all my life. It was apparent early on, and my mother and I used to have long arguements over what T-shirt matched the navy blue sweat pants that I was wearing to school that day. Second grade can be a tough time for a kid. But, after a few months of bickering every morning over whether the shirt in question actually blue or purple, she grew tired and allowed me to dress in whatever ragamuffin combination I wanted to wear. I can't remember ever being made fun of because my shirt didn't match.

This, of course, has lead to a disaster of tastes as an adult. What's more awful is that I can't really hide behind my genetic defect any longer, since I long ago learned to tell the difference between violet and indigo; even though my indigo and your indigo are respectfully different. It has now been too long burned into my psyche and I don't really care if my green pants (I really think that they're gray) do not match my navy and gray sweater. It doesn't matter to me. To make this painfully clear to everyone around me I accompany this outfit with brown shoes and a black belt.

That'll teach them.

heh. At least I no longer wear sweatpants. No, I prefer nice cottony pajama bottoms or a plain pair of black scrubs. Light and Comfy is truly, where it's at. And when I'm lounging around the house in my pj's and long sleeve SpongeBob T-shirt, I feel happy. It's like this odd sense of dress is sort of a moniker of mine, a signature if you will.

-d.

Will the Circle?

2004-11-22T10:36:00.000-05:00

With the onset of this holiday season, I have found myself wrapped up in childlike excitement. I'm not sure if it's simply because I am becoming older, or if it's something about this particular year that has risen this renewed sense of thanksgiving.

During my college years the holidays were a much needed respite from studies and classes and the basic whirlwind that is the college life. This year is the first year that I'm not already caught up in a bustle -- but I feel the bustle surely catching up to me. Well, truthfully, last year was my first year to be not so busy. It was going to be my first really adult holiday season and I was a recently unemployed youngin'. But last year my Grandpa, my Pops, spent the greater part of the holiday season between hospitals and nursing homes. My family and I were blessed to spend one more Thanksgiving with him, even though he was too sick to really enjoy the festivities (or the food.) And by the time Christmas rolled around we were waiting for him to die. The questions (the hope) no longer really lingered in anyone's mind. Since the holiday cheer never really had the opportunity to sink in, the season quickly departed without so much as a whisper. I don't even really remember Christmas.

This year has been a lot of fresh starts, I suppose. I got a job. Yah! and everything is going pretty well in my life. I like where I am, and I like where I think I'm going. I have a lot to be thankful for: my life and health, my family, my friends. This year has been mostly free from a lot of the strains and stresses that I've always carried with me. I don't really know what changed, but whatever straw broke that camel's back I am thankful for too. I've found it quite easy to lay down my strife and worries lately, and that, in turn, has lead me to a greater ability to deal with my problems in a more logical and realistic way. Plus, I'm really looking forward to the loooong weekend ahead. I don't get enough time to spend with family, and I'm happy to see and visit with them, all of them, soon.
. . . .
And on another note:

The Buckeyes kicked some major ass this past Saturday! The OSU/Michigan game, the biggest college rivalry that I've ever witnessed, was in full swing over the weekend. Now, as I've said before, I'm not really all that in to sports. That said, it is impossible to live in Columbus, Ohio during football season and not be caught up in the football craze. And yes, the Buckeyes had a pretty shitty season this year. The entire season, people were walking around on Monday mornings looking as if they all had to go out and shoot Old Yeller over the weekend. But today it has been a complete turn around: co-workers are smiling and high-fiving in the hallways!

It's a good time to be a Buckeye!

-d.

A Very Wet Friday

2004-11-19T13:34:00.000-05:00

Today is just wet. That is the perfect word for today.

And all the things that associate with wet. Damp. Dark. Dreary. A mass collection of D-words. I suppose that wet could be a good thing too, (don't worry, I won't go there) but that's not the definition that I have in my head. It's a cold/wet. not cheery at all.

Usually, I really like the rain, but today I'm just tired of it. It's making me sleepy. And, I know that I've been a huge whiney-ass lately. for that, I'm sorry.

. . . . . .

So I paid out $120 at lunch today. Money out of Dan's pocket. That didn't put a huge rainbow in my sky either. It seems like no matter how hard I try, I can never get ahead with my finances. It's a skill that I've never really had. I don't budget. I don't keep a ledger. Hell, I don't even deal with banks anymore (they've taken quite enough money from me, thanks.) Not that it isn't all my fault.

I don't want you to think that it's because I'm incompetant either. It's partly because I'm lazy and partly because of who I am. Money doesn't really mean anything to me (although, it has proved to come in handy from time to time.) And so I don't really worry too much about it. I don't use credit - so, there's that. I pay my bills, nearly always on time, and I spend whatever I have left.

I guess that's the area in which I fall short. Buying stuff will be the death of me. And I don't buy stuff that I can keep (besides the occasional piece of clothing and whatnot.) I would say a good 95% of my money goes to bills and consumable items. So in the end, I don't have anything to show for the money that I make. Besides living. Living a fairly comfortable life, right now too. And I've been enjoying that.

Apparently too much. heh.

Ah, well -- thanks for listening to yet another bitch session from yours truly. I'm thinking that I feel better already. . .

-d.

ps. a post on eternity and the origin of that philosphy this weekend. (NO MORE RANTS!)

lazy-fingers

2004-11-18T11:10:00.000-05:00

I don't know what just happened, but I had a nice long post here and all of the sudden ZAP! and it was gone.

Maybe this is an indication that y'all are tired of my blather. heh.

or, perhaps I shall revisit those thoughts a little later. ah, well. Lunch for now!

-d.

Looking Forward

2004-11-17T10:47:00.000-05:00

I took a sick day yesterday. I'm beginning to think that I should have taken today off as well. The word is: don't eat at sketchy Chinese resteraunts. It's definitely not worth it.

Other than that, I've had a bit of time to think. Between trips to the commode. And I think that I need to take a page from a friend's book and keep some more time to myself. I've not been all that productive in my private life as of lately. I need to do more writing and less social activities. Living it up is good and all - it's been a lot of fun lately, going out with friends, drinking, having a social life for the first time in a year - but it has taken a toll on me. Physically and financially.

Plus it's O-State v. Michigan weekend. crazy times to be in Columbus, Ohio. I've never been much of a football fan - hell, sports in general don't really do anything for me. But it only takes a few months of football fever in this mid-Ohio city for it to catch on, especially at the end of the season. This is the biggest game of the year, and the festivities make it loads of fun.

and next weekend is Turkey Time! I'm excited for the holidays to be here this year. I'm single this year and have been enjoying being with my family for family's sake and not for some pretensious facade of parading around a potential mate. I hate the coy introductions and everyone's inquiring stares from across the room. Plus this is the first year in forever that I'm not working in some kind of retail setting. It should make Christmas tenfold more enjoyable. So, I'm breaking out the Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong albums and breaking in the x-mas cheer.

I hope it all goes as well as I know it can. and even if it doesn't, there's always Taft to look forward to.
. . . . .
And on another note:

Happy Hump Day!
-d.

mush (pt. 2) a bitch session

2004-11-11T17:01:00.000-05:00

Well, now they've gone and done it. My brain is fine and my body is mush. Seriously!

I was supposed to have the day off today. Not literally off - I still had to come in to work, but everyone in the company was supposed to be offsite at an all day meeting. I drew the long straw and had to stay back to tend to the skeleton crew of workers left here to keep the business in swing. It was my main duty to set up for the worker's lunch, hand out lunches, and tear down. This all will take an hour and a half.

Not. even. close.

I walked in five minutes late and the phone was already ringing. I didn't let that stifle my good mood though, I figured the first hour or so would be hectic trying to get everyone shuffled out, loaded on buses, and on their merry ways. After the choas, I was going to get a long breather.

Well, what happened was everyone was late and departure was set back. Then my help didn't show up at 9:30 like she was supposed to and so I delivered four buildings worth of mail sans assistance. Then I set up for lunch and took my first smoke of the day. It was a glorious smoke. Bridget and I got to be lunch nazi's "NO SOUP FOR YOU!" and then I tore down the set up and headed back to eat my already cold lunch. Twenty minutes later -- EVERYONE CAME BACK! I was supposed to have another hour and a half before anyone was going to arrive! Thus my day was ruined. No time to read. No time to write. No slacking allowed, whatsoever.

And to top it all off, I pinched my middle finger so hard that I thought that I fractured it. but it's ok, or will be as soon as the swelling goes down.

-d.

mush

2004-11-10T15:54:00.000-05:00

My brain is mush today.

that's all.

A Chilly Walk on the Sabbath

2004-11-08T10:57:00.000-05:00

I started a new book last night. The kind you have to write in order to read later. It's always exciting to me, starting a new notebook - it's an opportunity for a fresh outlook on life. It's a blue book this time, with blue-lined pages, written in blue ink. The blue notebook. Maybe I'll find something more than sorrow in those blue stained pages.

I also had a vision last night. It was a bit wierd (as visions tend to be.) You see, I've been spending some time lately dwelling on my own mortality, trying to connect with the visceral part of me - the flesh. I know some people that have a hard time connecting with the spiritual side of the world, even the spiritual side of themselves, but I'm the polar opposite. Most days, my thoughts reside in the eternal, lost and wandering in my dreams, and all too often I have troubles connecting back to this life - to the here and now of things. Lately I've spent some minutes counting the heartbeats in my ear drums and listening to breaths bated in the back of my throat. I think that Autumn is a good time to remember that we are from the earth, and that it is to this earth that we will return.

So, like I said, I had a vision last night. I was meditating when behind my closed eyes the darkness began to quiver. At first, the picture was blurry as if a child had dropped a single penny into a wishing fountain. The blurred lines bobbed along the darkness like waves in that tiny pool to form two small windows, skewed in opposite corners of my mind. The frames were bent into nearly perfect trapezoids and they were incased in brilliant white light. At first I thought that perhaps I was looking through a cloudy puddle; as my sight cleared, I realized that I was clearly staring through a reflection, albeit a dark one.

I'm not sure what the whole thing means. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything that I've really understood. And I'm sure after reading that last paragraph a few of you are going to say, "That boy, he's a bit off his rocker." and my answer would have to be, "yes. why, yes I am." And that's ok by me. I know that the whole thing left me fairly restless. I carried myself to the bathroom afterwards and proceeded to cut at my beard. (I've always found that cutting your hair is a great release of emotional build-up.) And I dwelt on the fact that I have been spending a lot of time with my own mortality and not a lot of time talking to God. Frankly, I'm a bit afraid of what He might have to say right now and so I've had a hard time opening my heart at all.

The whole experience left me disconnected from myself once again, and I had a hard time getting to sleep after that. There were all these images in my head - from the past and some from the near future - but, like I said before, I've always been a bit of a dreamer. I prefer to dwell there, in the not so distant land-o-make believe.

Mr. Rogers would have sure been proud.
-d.

T.G.I.F.

2004-11-05T17:17:00.000-05:00

Well, thank God it's finally Friday. We made it!!!! congratulations to all. :)

This week has been. . .well, horrible. It's been uber-busy here at work and I'm afraid that my boss hasn't been pulling my leg about the remainder of the year being a blur of work. I really don't mind all that much, as it keeps my mind from less gratifying thoughts (about our "president.") sorry, had to get one in there.

. . .

The weekend's looking rather boring. Can you tell I'm excited?!? I love having free time to hang out with a friend that might just pop by, and if not I get to sit at home and relax with some of my favorite books. I just like having no plans. Plans are overrated. I usually end up having ten times the better time when it all comes together spontaneously.

Well, I just didn't want this space to go blank today. I'm trying to write a little bit (somewhere) every day, and here of late this blog has been the place to do it. I enjoy the freedom that I have here. Sometimes I can come in and post something that's profound and important in my life, and other times you just get blather. heh. So, I guess this is blather.

heh,
-d.

REM Cycles

2004-11-04T11:29:00.001-05:00

It was just as hard to get to sleep last night. I think it's probably because I spent most of the day yesterday trying to wake up from this living nightmare. The world's been turned upside down and we now live in Topsy-Turvey land. Welcome to the evil Empire of Bush.

I've had a lot of zany ideas about what to do in response to this fumbled election. I thought about walking to DC in protest -- but I figure I probably wouldn't get there until about February, and it's real cold outside. So, instead, I thought that I might ride a donkey. maybe a donkey pulling a dead elephant. That would definitely take a little help from the man upstairs. I also thought about writing a letter to the president, offering him my stake in the country. I mean, if he's going to do everything he can to remain in power, then the man may as well declare himself dictator. After that, I'm moving to Canada. or Belize. yeah, Belize would be pretty nice this time of year. Plus, when Armegeddon starts. . . I don't want to be around here. ;)

Truthfully though, my greatest hope lies in the fact that good ole Bush will probably have himself a nice little vacation now that the campaign is over. Maybe he'll take a couple of months off and give the world a moment to breath and catch up with itself. I know that we could all use a month or two to stock up on can goods and bottled water. It's sure going to be hell when the persecution and head choppin' starts and I for one want to be prepared to go live in a cave until this whole thing blows over.

All in all, I feel pretty good today. after all. . . .

It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it.
It's the end of the world as we know it,
and I feel fine. . . .
REM

-d.

quitters never win

2004-11-03T14:06:00.000-05:00

I sat down here to write. and I am dumbfounded, hence the previous post. However, a mother whose son is right now fighting in Iraq came to me and said, "What really upsets me, is that I took all this time to get [my son] registered, and his and all those young people's vote isn't even being counted. It's as if the people think that it's OK to send them over there, to get their arms and legs blown off - but their vote doesn't count. Their voice isn't heard."

Is there a dry eye?

Other than that, I'm pretty numb. I feel like I should be spending the day making contingency plans (hello, Canada!) or maybe just sleeping under a huge pile of blankets. I feel like I've been used and cheated and lied to (ha, as if that's not a familiar feeling.) and Yes, a little bitter I suppose. I really thought that my fellow countrymen were smarter than this. That the people have more compassion and common sense than this. That the people had risen to speak our peace, and in turn bring peace upon us. Apparently it is not to be so.

I feel defeated. and fear is upon me.

-d.

gah

2004-11-03T10:20:00.000-05:00

w h a t

t h e

F U C K

?

regime change

2004-11-02T16:41:00.000-05:00

at least we can hope, right?

I'm not sure if I got kicked from the Orchard or what. But I haven't been able to log on (or even view the website since this morning.) I'm sure it's just a crappy day for the LAN guys here at work or some other technical folly going on.

Maybe it's a conspiracy -- straight from Washington. heh.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Well, it's Super Tuesday. I am nervous/excited for the election results tonight. I voted via absentee ballot last week and so the excitement of the oncoming election has sort of left me near the end of last week. It all came back today.

I'm going to completely honest for a moment -- I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the outcome of this election and dire consequences that the outcome could hold for the American people and for the world. I'm afraid for our government and for our way of life.

but fear shall not conquer me. Because I stood. My voice was heard and my ballot counted.

stand and be counted too,
-d.

<>

2004-11-01T14:17:00.000-05:00

The weekend was pretty calm - just some time well spent with my family. Actually, the highlight of the weekend home was twofold:

1) playing the mandolin for three hours on Saturday night with a local bluegrass band. I get to play fairly often with my grandfather and uncle, but their style of bluegrass is older than the hills and filled with endless repitions of G, C, and D chords. My grandfather is a true "Scruggs" style banjo player, making him really unique in today's realm of music but rendering the songs a bit hum-drum after a while. The fellas that I tinkered around with Saturday night have a distinctive blues sound to their music, and it really stretched my abilities to be able to follow and play along. The night made me realize that I'm better (on the mandolin) than what I give myself credit for. It's nice to surprise yourself every now and again!

and 2) catching Book TV's presentation of America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction in the middle of the night on C-SPAN 2. I just love those Daily Show guys. . .
. . . .
So, it's Monday and work's not too bad today. I guess we should be kind of light today - it's the first of the month and after all the work they dumped on our department last week, I imagine that they'll find someone else to dump on this week. And now I have time to piddle-paddle around the internet and waste time writing in this journal. Not that this journal is a waste of time. . .it's just that I'm wasting company time. . .ah, forget it.

I guess that I don't really have anything all that profound to say.

Happy voting tomorrow!
-d.

politico

2004-10-28T17:24:00.000-04:00

I voted today. absentee ballot. and it was great!

As I've said here before, I never wanted to vote. ever. But this season I found cause and actually got excited about politics (for the first time in my life.) I'm still not sure it will really make a difference, and in four years I might be bitching just as hard about John Kerry as I have been Dubya. And in four years, it might be time for another change.

So, with the elections forthcoming, C-bus is turning into a crazytown. John Kerry was here last night, down on campus and toting behind him the rock legend "the Boss," Bruce Springsteen. Tomorrow is Dubya's turn in Nationwide Arena with the Gubenator. And Saturday, the most controversial of all - Michael Moore - and, well, the Goo Goo Dolls. Somehow I think that Moore will probably draw as much protest as W.

I think this will be a good weekend to get out of town. . .
-d.

Scrambled-Eggs (Smothered and Covered) and an Addiction to Coca-Cola

2004-10-27T13:01:00.000-04:00

I was planning on making one really huge post, but it was in the middle of lunch and the hunger-bug bit me so I clipped, posted it, and went and got something to eat.

So. . . if you want to read about Canal Street, it's down below this mess, but be warned - it's the same crap that I posted on the Orchard. So, if you read it there you probably don't need to read it here.

anyhooo. . . . .

Saturday I woke up expecting to do pretty much nothing all day long. GMoney and I hung around the house, watched the Buckeyes kick ass, and drank some wine. Around seven we decided to call up Kevin, this kid we've been hanging out with lately and Chica's upstairs neighbor. Kevin answers his phone and he and GMoney talk for a minute, but then the conversation just ends -- pretty abrupt. "Eh," says I, "what's Kevin up to?"

To which GMoney calmly replies, "Well, he broke his back in three places, put a gash in his head and is laid up in the hospital for the time being." And that's all we knew -- for the time being. Personally, I felt bewildered. I had only recently started to hang out with Kevin, and so I didn't know his personality all that well, but I had experienced a little tingle in the back of my head from time to time when talking to him (I like to call it my bull-shit detector) Yes, I thought Kevin was probably a bit of a habitual liar -- a lot of people are. I know because I used to be one of them. So, I tell G that I don't know what's going on, but if K-dog was just blowing us off he probably would have come up with a little better story than that and that he must really be hurt.

A little later on GMoney gets a call back from Kevin and they talk for a minute. Gary says that he and I will be over to visit, somtime tomorrow, and that's that. But as of now we get the full(er) story. As it turns out it, wasn't just a seizure and a fall down a flight of stairs that caused Kevin's swift demise, but cocaine and a whole lotta that.

**I'd like to take a moment from this story to tell you another. I've lost a good friend to coke. It's not a fun drug (not like drugs are fun) and I've seen it mess up a few people's lives. This kind of habit is the kind that makes theives out of honest people, and destitution out of abundance. The only thing it knows how to do is rape, steal, and kill.**

So, we go. And we hang out with Kevin. And the story changes at least three times in the course of an hour and a half. Of course, he's on a lotta pain medication, and muscle relaxers, and sleep inducers, and anti-inflammatories. So he's pretty much only half there, half of the time. But, it's apparent that Kevin has a bit of a problem. I mean when I asked him if he was going to do cocaine any more, he shrugged his shoulders and muttered "I dunno." After a seizure, three fractures, and splitting his head open he's not sure if he wants to give up coke. It infuriates me.

But I can't leave just him lie there. It's a BPD, you know? My heart too often trumps what my good sense is telling me, which in this case is "leave this shit to someone else, because it'll find some way of pulling you down too." Kevin needs help, but it doesn't necessarily have to come from this bleeding heart. But, like I said before, I can't. I can't leave him lying there, bleeding to death on the cracked pavement.

So, I've seen the kid every day now for the last few days. He's in good spirits and has a decent range of mobility. But I really think that he's going about the whole thing pretty loosey-goosey. He's not really paying any attention to what the doctors and physical therapists told him - moving around too much, not wearing the back brace nearly enough. But he did flush what he had left of the white monster. I watched it go down the drain and a little ball of hope sprung up inside of me.

. . . .sometimes I feel trapped in my compassion for others.
I'm often glad that I am.

-d.