Expecting cancer any day now.

Nervous Breakdown

2011-12-02T08:54:00.001-08:00

I have noticed that when nearly unmanageable events occur in my life it results in a nervous breakdown. Let me specify my nearly unmanageable event. My roof is leaking. I'm pretty sure I need a new roof. I am currently awaiting an estimate. I don't have money for a new roof. My car will be paid off in five months and I really don't want to go into debt again. I was really excited about having the extra money after the car was paid off. Not now. I'm sure I will have to go into debt over this. Crap. That is not the point.
The point is I'm supposed to be describing my nervous breakdown. As contradictory as it sounds as was fully aware during my breakdown. Truly, my nervous system was offline and kept trying to start back up.

My thoughts were so disorganized that I could not keep names, items, etc straight. My reflects and balance were off. I was dropping and spilling all over the place. My emotions were inconsistent. I was happy then sad then angry then indifferent. I would forget basic words. A true nervous break down. I'm sure this whole roof thing will work itself out, but I was a mess last night. Today is much better. I also appreciated being told that I was not my normal cheery self. That means that at work I'm normally pleasant and entertaining. Another good point is that I was able to make money last night in spite of my nervous breakdown.

Searching for an Explanation

2011-11-29T08:02:00.001-08:00

I believe it was a week ago when I dreamt about my own exorcism. I was at my parents house telling a story in the old kitchen. Everyone was seated around me listening intently. I had no idea that I was possessed and what was about to happen. My old priest came in and began immediately. It wasn't a conventional exorcism by any means. The priest addressed me and stepped behind me and proceeded to draw the demon out with his hands. I leaned my head back over the chair and my body locked up. I could actually feel this in the dream. I could still see and hear everyone but I could not respond. Then I experienced pain as the demon was drawn out. Surprisingly, I felt elated afterwards. I had this intense euphoria for a could seconds, again, that I could actually feel. Pretty much after that the dream ended. I'm still trying to decipher this dream. What I do is that I have been trying to be a better person now. I seem happier. But what was the demon and what actual good did it do to have it drawn from my body?

Quarter life crisis

2011-06-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

It has been over a year since my last post. I was posting regularly when I worked in an office on a relatively routine 9 to 5. I was miserable then and I think that helped me to write. I was having trouble sleeping throughout that time because I was having

panic attacks about being stuck in that job and growing old while being miserable. I haven't had one in about 10 months now. That part of my life is over and I am happy.

So much has changed in the year since I left that job. I now paint and film and try to do things with my life that I never would have before. I want to do something that is lasting. I want to leave my mark behind. When people ask me, " what do you do these days" I want to be able to say I just live and that is plenty enough.

We get so used to being miserable everyday that we forget how to be happy. I can't believe how absurd it is to some people that being happy is my main focus.

The Mind is Willing

2010-06-10T08:25:00.000-07:00

There have been some significant events in my life lately, but I would like to comment first on this one. Yesterday my father ran three continuous miles in the blistering heat and humidity. Last year he was only able to run about .6 miles continuously. The pace was slow, but steady. I would look back at him and I saw it was hard, but he kept trucking. In the past two years my father has lost over 50 pounds and converted his life to a much healthier one. Yesterday he confessed, "A few years ago is was aging and my body was breaking down. Now, I'm becoming healthier and stronger each day." What an absolutely astounding perspective. My parents have been slowly changing their lives. They have seen what I have done over the past five years and have been inspired. On Memorial Day I ran a mini marathon (13 miles) a few days after having a 101.4 fever. My parents and girlfriend were there at almost every water check in cheering me on. They saw what the human body is capable of as long as the mind is willing.

Well, the mind is willing with no end in sight. I have crossed a major milestone and so has my father.

Next, I have a very menacing milestone...my future.

On Death (Briefly)

2010-05-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

Recently, I found myself in the middle of a philosophical death debate with someone whom had lost a loved one.

Just like politics and religion, all interconnected, none of the subjects ever end with a clear and competent agreement.

What follows is just a collection of ideas.

Humans will never grasp the concept of infinity. Humans will never be able to appreciate infinity. Our nature is next, fast, and temporary. We learn to appreciate what little we can with the notion of loss.

A human is comprised of matter and energy. Neither of the two can ever be destroyed or created. We are merely a carrier of two beings of infinity. Why is it so hard to understand or appreciate two ideas that are body's are vessels for housing?

Does the after life contain just or energy or matter or both? Where does the matter and energy go on Earth when we die if it stays on this planet? Does it float into the ozone layer and come back down?

Are of the items of knowing finally given when we die?

Do our dead selves look down and whisper the secrets of the universe to our live loved ones?

If this universe was created several billion years ago, was there another universe before this one? Was the previous universe like ours now?

Are all the tools to answer the above questions swirling in my brain with the same information like a G chord or how to drive a car?

are those thoughts rippling

2010-04-26T13:05:00.000-07:00

finally,

I was noticed,

at the end of a saber

that just barely

pierced my the wall

of my heart.

this isn't,

a love sick poem,

or a curse to a lover,

that didn't pay

any mind at all

i'm just being sharp.

I could be vague,

i could promise plagues
if i had nothing

nice to sayother than

i hope you're doing well.

no, no, no,

this is just envy

of malicious greed

that takes from every person

and harms the ones

in need.

i'm only strumming,

chumming

the waters

watching for predators

to come across

our borders.

the pain of our labor

from every original thought

glances the pages

of a volume

of a book that's already lost.

so when the thorn

breaks the surface

of my lotion lathered skin

just think about the piercing

from someone you called a friend.

well, well, well, you're lying

2010-04-19T10:57:00.000-07:00

well

aren't we

tiny lukewarm raindrops

pounded by an endless number

of tiny raindrops

collecting down a drain.

well

we all live for something

until the dream of death is gone

or the fear of anonymity is

too far reaching

this is how we carry on.

well

the threat of living dirty

and dying in the streets

is a pack of smokes

and a tattoo away

water's rushing at your feet.

you can't fight the direction you're in

when you're falling down a well

the water's cold

and dark

you wouldn't think this is hell.

but you say

i'm fine, i'm great

the only problems

are the ones

I create.

things are only well

swimming in the well

when you sink lower

and water pooling is your fate.

From a Helping Hand to a Hex.

2010-04-09T10:12:00.000-07:00

We're in the middle

but we don't now what

looking for an identity

something we can trust.

But every idea

that someone has

gets beat to the ground

and smothered in the grass.

We need someone to speak

for all of us

but can be discredited

after making a fuss.

Do you get what I'm saying

you're never pleased

every time you put a person

into the hot seat.

You can sit where you're safe

question and debate

pointing your finger

only to save your name.

There are only so many times

you can complete this charade

before your system crashes down

and your position unmade.

It's just that now WE

are catching on

and you are in danger

of being gone.

The old usurped by the new

who wont sit and stew

it's time we all knew

your fault your nightmare is true.

Get the switch, that dogs at it again

2010-04-06T11:49:00.001-07:00

What does it mean to be a weasel?

Surely, you are familiar when a human is referred to as a weasel or being weaselly, but is that a bum rap for a weasel? Weasels are quite resourceful and resilient. Also, the wolverine, of which the animal like X-man is named after, is a force to be reckoned with...of the weasel family.

I think invertebrate or jellyfish may be more suitable, but then again, those creatures have survived on this earth much longer than us humans.

It's difficult to determine to say the least.

I'm thinking rat or cockroach, but doing whatever you can to survive is well...survival.

Hmm...maybe a song would help:

You don't sing like

a nightingale

more like a mule,

you're so confident

with your standing,

not knowing

you're a fool.

You bite the hand

that feeds

when you're touched

you bleed

barking, just barking

maybe it's a leash

you need.

Staked to the ground

you watch the world

spin round

and think making

an observation about it

is profound.

You, your ego,

and your accomplice

another head

for Cerberus,

what you are

just another guard dog,

for a bucket of piss.

Hide in the shadows

and in hollow trees

until you're scared off

by a few tiny bees.

Look at you running,

flailing your arms

all the while cursing

"I didn't mean any harm."

No one believes you,

no one to turn to

your three heads chewing

on the same leather shoe

that someone threw out

for a pile meant for the trash

if they catch that animal chewing

surely he'll get a lash.

On Guard Ye Demons

2010-03-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

I gave up a couple of personal demons for Lent. I was raised Catholic, and I'm not the perfect example of a practicing Catholic, but I admire some characteristics and try to do them. One obviously is sacrifice. Sacrifice is universal in all religions, but the act of refraining from something until Easter is particular to Catholicism, I think.

My demons, by the way, are two activities that I should not engage in anyway, depending on whom you ask.

But what I have noticed is that I have experienced quite an increase in clarity and focus. I have been able to complete certain tasks that previously have been "unobtainable." I bought a very nice acoustic guitar and am getting back to music. I removed a window from my house as well and that is something I never would have done before.

I have actually seen my performance at my job improve. There is a big difference between being depressed at your job and being effective and being depressed and being ineffective. Now that I have let my demons go I can see that.

Sacrifice makes us stronger as long as we are sacrificing the right things. And by that I mean our demons first. Back Ye Demons!

You're bad, I'm good. I'm bad, you're good.

2010-02-19T13:54:00.000-08:00

Hold on.

What are you holding on to?

Just wait.

What are you waiting for?

Don't know.

What is worth knowing?

In time.

When is long enough?

My eyes don't need changing.

My mouth is forever blaming.

I'm so tired of forever faking.

Why can't I move ahead?

Why are my feet so full of lead?

Why do I just want to stay in bed?

I guess it's a matter

of just changing the sheets

something to make life feel complete

if I could just get motivated.

For now I'll guess I'll just draw the shades

promise tomorrow that I'll change.

Holding out until the colors fade

then just rewash them.

You're so tired of hearing me complain

think there's something wrong with my brain,

just don't know how much I'm hurting.

Can you pick up some ether on the way home

or maybe chloroform from down the road,

that's all my grocery list really is.

A collection of wishes, of things I never did.

I Saw Red

2010-02-15T12:56:00.000-08:00

I saw red last night. And I'm not just talking about the color red pasted everywhere for Valentine's Day. I had a super awesome Valentine's Day with friends and family. I would not have spent it any other way.

But, I saw red.

I saw rage like I haven't seen it for some time. I felt it so strongly that I could not sleep. I having been mildly shaking all day with rage. Like a ringing in my ears and a tiny palpitation in my heart.

I will not go into details. I will give the bare minimum to protect the innocence of the ignorant.

Valentine's Day is a day to celebrate love. Love of the romantic kind specifically, and love in general. Some people are incapable of loving by the way.

Last night there was an assassin about. The assassin hated love and most likely hated himself. He was a bull. He was primed for combat. He wore a slain lover at his side like a trophy. He was large and oppressive. The assassin attempted to oppress others from having a good time. The assassin attempted to oppress love. I don't believe the assassin was completely aware of how destructive his actions can be. I don't think he is in control of his intentions. I think he was bred. He must have been. A creature of hate and anger. Who could raise such a creature? I know what I must do. I must love him. I must love the creature. As I stared into his eyes and my words cut deeply into his toughened soul, I realized that I too was hating. He was bleeding. He was cornered. He was the great hunter awaiting to be taken down and consumed. But this is not the wild. We are animals, but we are human. I will love him. It can be the only way that I can distinguish myself from him.

But never. Never shall I allow for someone to oppress me. I will challenge any force that tries to dictate my existence. I will be pure, I will live forever.

New Holiday

2010-02-08T09:42:00.000-08:00

Have you noticed, that the manner in which a holiday is declared, has to do with many factors? Halloween, for instance, is a collaborative effort of multiple cultures converging on basically two days for a plethora of activities ranging from prayer to handing out candy.

Of course there are those holidays that are significant to the area that celebrates them like various Independence days.

What I noticed yesterday is that we are on the threshold of declaring a new holiday that is unique to our country-The Super Bowl. There are several qualifiers so bear with me here:

For one- we need a leading up period for the public to buy all the necessary ingredients for the event and the producers receive another boost in their annual sales. Holidays are big business.

Two- we a focal point for the holiday, whether it be the Easter Bunny, Jesus, the Groundhog, etc. In this case we not only have the teams that are competing in the game, but the commercials and halftime show.

Three-What's the most important component to a successful or unsuccessful holiday? Spending that holiday with the ones you love. And you what do we do? We host Superbowl parties with friends and family.

Four-Food. We cook Turkey for Thanksgiving, Ham for Easter, barbecue everything for July 4th. So what do we cook for Superbowl? Munchies. Munchies are the designated food of the Superbowl. This could range from buffalo wings to pizza to that weird texmex dip that everyone eats.

Five-Traditional dress. For Christmas we wear those ugly Christmas sweaters, Halloween we have costumes, Easter we wear our bonnets and Sunday best. For the Superbowl it's a no-brainer. We have the two teams jerseys or related memorabilia. Or you could just wear the teams colors.

The Superbowl has become so much more than just a commercialized event to make money. It is a day to share with friends and family. It's yet another day when the world is watching the United States to see athletes, no titans, competing in their peak performance. I hate football, but I watched it and enjoyed the show. I most certainly plan on celebrating Superbowl next year and carrying on that tradition for many years.

Smash the Mirror

2010-02-03T13:25:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, 02/02/10, was Groundhog Day. I couldn't help but be reminded of the movie starring Bill Murray. I love Bill Murray and most of the movies he has starred in. Which has nothing to do with this.

See, he gets stuck in Groundhog Day for an unspecified number of days until he can do that day correctly. His personal relationships and general disposition had to change in order for him to move on in life. The question I want to raise is; what if today was the day you were stuck in? What would you do differently tomorrow if you lived today over? Just as important; what if you lived this day over, how would you handle that? Could you handle that? I've been obsessing over this type of question lately. I think partly because I'm 28 years old and I want more out of life. I look in the mirror under these unforgiving fluorescent lights and I can see myself aging. But will living every day like it's your last drive a person crazy? I guess I have to act on this now before I stop noticing myself aging in the mirror.

I Found my Battery

2010-01-27T11:05:00.000-08:00

Okay, I write this blog so it's appropriate to write about accomplishments of mine,without thinking I sound pretentious, right?

I'm not a half-assed commitment type of person anymore.

Things in my life have changed.

I have unlocked something that I never want to go away.

I have unlocked a source of willpower that has already enabled me to do so much.

I have taken this willpower and created a New Years Resolution List. This is not some sissy "I'm really gonna do it" promise.

This is an early bucket list.

This is a list of items I have wanted to do for sometime and have been too consumed with distracting myself with daily life to complete.

I am happy to announce I have already completed some items. Just last night I completed another item.

I ran five miles yesterday, nonstop, in 40 minutes. I was a little dehydrated before and during, so when I stopped my face was hot and dry and my eyes were bloodshot.

In the mirror I appeared 20 years older. It was scary, but just a natural effect of not hydrating enough.

This milestone unlocks the next set of items; the 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and finally the mini-marathon 13 mile run.

Dark clouds are clearing and each item brings me closer to realizing a dormant potential that nearly broke under depression, frustration, and hopelessness.
Yesterday, I was alive.

Today, I am alive.

My life expectancy is increasing with each day.

Blankets of Morning Dew

2010-01-22T14:11:00.000-08:00

The mist hung around today, the kind of mist that normally appears in the morning and slowly dissipates in the afternoon. The kind of mist that reminds me of all the thoughts and feelings of the day before misting away in our slumber. Every night, anew escaping our minds and flying away into the dark matter of the universe.

But today the mist did not go away. Today, the thoughts and dreams were too strong to evaporate. As I drove around mid afternoon I noticed how differently everything looked shrouded in the mist. Something is changing. Our ideas are wanting to stay.

The collective is coming.

The only ones that can't see will be the ones lost in it.

It could be only a matter of temperature, moisture, and the sun but I would like to think otherwise.

Whistling

2010-01-19T15:15:00.000-08:00

There is a wind whistling in my ears,

the kind of wind that drowns every other sound out.

Like alone on the river,

or a nearly empty parking lot.

A wind that stops all motions

that have been spiraling out of control

in the void of a distracted brain.

I first heard a wind in middle school

when I was out for Christmas break.

The sun was shining

and I was alone, alone with a wind.

I could focus then,

but of course with less distraction.

I'm learning to start listening for a wind again

to slow down and think,

and let the rest of my life begin.

Thanks buddy. I've been away for awhile.

Circular Logic

2009-10-27T10:14:00.000-07:00

I will now face the truth.

I was not made to amass wealth.

But am I to be a vagabond

for the rest of my life?

Is it so important

to do not what makes you happy

but what makes a living?

A house

a dog

a wife

and kids

401K

Roth IRA

your health insurance

you will pay.

If I am to risk

and face what's worth risking

is the answer my happiness?

Could I be

just another spoiled person

wanting to feel

valuable and important?

Am I finally reaching

the time in my life

when inaction

is slowing killing me.

I can only hope.

And hope I hear is more deadly.

Singing of Swans in everyday Speak

2009-10-15T14:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the language of our everyday conversations can be so singsong.
Take for instance:
She was a swan...
just not yours.
She was not a swan...
she was a duck.
We thought she was a swan...
but now we know she's not.
Don't you know...
that you need to find a swan?
Your swan.
It's not fair to anyone else.

Close me up and pull the lid tight...I don't want any air getting through.

2009-09-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

Looking for a glimmer of light

in the nightmarish dark of life

is not a way

to approach

each day

but it's happening.

Even when you win

you lose...again.

Sometimes saying something

just to avoid the silence

is the worse idea imaginable.

You can take a day off

to lie in bed and do nothing

but it only makes

things worse.

Compiling,

complacent,

you just avoid

getting up.

Your sick days

are shit days

and no shower is ever going to wash them off.

Even when you win, you lose

2009-09-10T09:03:00.000-07:00

It's so pathetic that politics must seep into everything. Something that is supposed to be so innocent and fun as the Corporate Challenge has been befouled.

Recently, my team competed in the trivia portion of the challenge and won the bronze medal. Not only did I hear grown men quarreling over answers, but also pouting like little babies with their little baby lips stuck out. You're a grown man! You're a major financial force in this town!Grow up!

So, apparently, the powers that be wanted to take away our medal and points because there was "confusion." When our liaison asked them to explain confusion, they could not.

Also, my agency won the executive relay by a landslide but were not awarded the gold. They later received points for it, but the agency that should have received silver points got to keep their gold points.

Regardless, my agency is still number one in the corporate challenge standings and I hope to be at the end as well.

It's just too bad that some of the largest employers in town have to get butt-hurt over losing fair-and-square. Do you think you deserve some type of special treatment? Do you think you deserve more than the rest of us? I know how to settle it. A foot race. Yeah, the 5K. Bring your "A" game, but don't expect to crawl like the babies you have been acting like and get a medal.

I am the little man, the other man, the one you fear. Initially, it was about fun until you got tired of sitting in your soiled diaper and made a fuss.

Now it's about showing you that even when you think you've won...you lose.

A Pilot Light Ignites, but for What?

2009-09-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I'll start writing a blog for an unclear reason and finish writing about something completely different. That may happen today.

I was enjoying my non labor time on Labor Day yesterday by flipping through the channels on television. I stopped on MSNBC when I saw our president giving a speech in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Lately, all I have heard about in the news is Obama's inability to enact anything and how is approval rating decreases slightly each week. That's great news to all those piece of shit journalists that make their money by running any trash that is going to cause a stink. I am not one of those cockroaches. I must get back on track here.

I'm watching the segment of the speech when Obama inserts that campaign anecdote about the little woman in South Carolina at the town hall meeting when Obama running for the presidency was still considered a joke who supplied inspiring words.

Obama was wet, tired, and not taken seriously, and here he was at 8 a.m. in a room of about 30 people listening to a woman chant "Fire it up, fire it up, fire it up." Obama indeed got fired up. And kicked major campaign ass. His message was one person can influence a group, one group a town, one town a state, and one state a nation.

What are you fired up about? Or better yet, what fires you up? Is it change? Is it self-inflicted drama? Is it adversity? Is it complacency? What will it be today that makes life worth living for you?

Spring to your Feet

2009-08-28T07:55:00.000-07:00

I started having night terrors in middle school, or at least that's when I became aware of them and could rule out nightmares. For those of you that don't know, night terrors are psychotic smash ups of dream and hallucinations that come about in mid sleep. Normally, the terrorer is awoken with extreme fright and anxiety due to an immediate false doom-thus the terror. In most cases my terrors related to insects and snakes covering my bed or my room and I have to get out immediately.

Sometimes I would wake up and rip my covers off the bed and the pillows too, or I would run out of the room. In any case my heart pounds as adrenaline surges through my body and I have to catch my breath.

Last night at 3:30 I had a night terror. In a dead sleep I dreamt that I could see through the eyes of something entering my house and making its way to my bedroom. Terrified I sprang from bed and wrapped my blanket and sheet around my arm in one motion. I swung open the door to meet this entity head on in the hallway. Seconds later I realized that I was standing alone in the hallway with my blankets wrapped around my arm, heart pounding in the middle of a night terror. I calmly walked back to my room, fixed my covers, and lied down in bed. Whom or what it was I can't say. It was something. I haven't been that scared in awhile. The last terror I had I just sat up and felt as though I was having a heart attack. But this one was different. I was scared, but ready to face what ever it was trying enter MY bedroom. What can I face today?

More to Loathe is more like it

2009-08-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

To FOX:

The comment has been made before that I don't like fat people. That's totally false. I love Santa Claus, The Nutty Professor, and Curly of the Three Stooges. Wait...all those people are fictional? Hmm, then don't take me seriously. I live to make people laugh and everyone deserves to be made fun of at some point in their life. I am a perpetual roast.

Now to the business at hand:

This new show "More to Love," has turned my stomach. I know, I know, the premise is that everyone has a chance for love, but this is exploitation.

You take one heavy set gentleman and supply him with a gaggle of heavy set women in hopes that true love will strike in the allotted weeks for filming.

This is what I noticed last night. These women have self esteem issues. Then, you put them in a contest where they are eliminated from the others for not being pretty or personable enough. Great, so they are no longer compared to skinny people, but now they are told they are not better than people of their own size. Way to go Hollywood. Has anyone killed themselves yet over being rejected on a reality show? Prepare yourself. You might be the first.

In addition Fox, you are perpetuating stereotypes. What does male suitor come home to from the ladies trying to woo him? A platter of nasty fluorescent colored cup cakes. What does one lady ask? "What's the way to a man's heart...through his stomach."

Gross me out. I will never eat another cupcake knowing that heavy hunk passed out that night frosting spackled on his face and crumbs on his stretched out wife beater.

Big people need love too, but do you have to parade them around like cows at the county fair for our enjoyment? I changed to Bizzare Foods, a show where the host eats foods that might be considered disgusting by our culture. Tell me there is irony in that.

Never will you know

2009-08-19T14:53:00.000-07:00

I turned the light off in the living room last night before I went to bed at the end of a whirlwind day and noticed a couple of extra clicks.

The extra clicks resulted from the insignificant detail of the light requiring more clicks to turn it off that occurs ever-s0-often.

What is it?

Chance.

The tiny gears and tumblers turning and just happening to skip over the right slot to turn the light off all playing out randomly. So randomly operating in such a contrived device.

Don't we want it?

Don't we want everything to be in our control. Don't we want it all manufactured for a specific reason?

But we don't do we?

We never do.

Instead, life sparks and fires, and cools and goes out. And sometimes it takes 100 clicks to turn the light out and sometimes it comes on all by itself.

Luck?

Chance?

Design by a master?

Click it off tonight and listen for the extra click to see how many it took, but for what?

You Must Surrender

2009-08-17T12:43:00.000-07:00

Some of you may not be aware that I have a heady past. At one time I was touring with Phish, had dreadlocks, and engaged in a drum circle or two.

That time of my life is over, but some aspects still remain. I will always love Phish. I experienced feelings with the music that I did not think were possible. And I'm not talking about just popping in The Moma Dance and getting down. I mean pure ecstasy. I don't know how else to explain it, but here it goes:

Some unforeseen force navigated some friends and I into Bacchus Friday night. Let me clarify. We had been there the night before thinking the band was going to be there, but wasn't. So, we sucked it up and tried again. The band was Namaste. They are a mix of blues, Zappa, Umphrey's, and Phish. Their original songs were impressive. Istrumentally, these guys kick ass. And the vocals weren't bad either. The band eventually covered Phish. And not whimpo songs like Heavy Things. Namaste went right for the throat, busting out flawless versions of Harry Hood and Mike's Song. It was somewhere during Hood that it happened. I surrendered. I let go of it all and felt it all. And I was in a bar in Owensboro. I looked over at Daniel and he had as well.

For one; you must surrender. You must be aware of everything and everyone around you, but you must also detach. The all becomes the one and you are every part of it. The music must move you and you within it.

Don't worry, I'm not going on the road anymore. And I'm not nattying my hair back up. I was just able to feel it all again and it was bliss. So let go. Let go. Let go.

Completely unrelated...As soon as Phish releases fall tour dates and Cincinnati is released I'm so raging there.

Taboo News 4 U, like stepping in Dog Doo.

2009-08-14T13:47:00.000-07:00

Last night was a shit bomb of an evening.

Some friends and I were pretty psyched about seeing Namaste at Bacchus last night.

I did what any normal civilian would; I read in the free rag that said band would be playing at said bar on said night and decided to go. I actually planned a week ahead.

We noticed that as we drove up there didn't seem to be many cars. Upon entering I noticed the jukebox was playing. Maybe it was set break. Upon viewing the stage I noticed it was empty. There was no band.

What does one do when you're all made up on a work? Settle for beer and leave.

How about a Blue Moon-they were out.

How about a Magic Hat Num.9-they were out.

I drank a flat Shiner Bock.

It took about ten minutes to get that.

So, I'm drinking flat beer at a bar on the wrong night.

We decided to go to Blind Parrot. My first time there. Not bad. No paper towel or soap in the upstairs bathroom. I was freaking.

We stayed late.

I ate a granola bar that I found in the back of Daniel's Volvo...so heady.

I was awakened by a buddy saying, "Dude, my car's gone. What do I do? By the way I threw up taco bell, but it was outside."

His car had been towed and we spent half the morning finding it.

I was notified another person threw up in my yard last night, too. What is it about my yard that makes people want to throw up?

I wanna throw up when I think about News 4 U's inability to publish reliable material that incidentally ruins my night.

I heard there is a much hipper and reliable mag in town...hahaha.

Tara, you're a great neighbor.

From the Private File (my new journal)

2009-08-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

Last night the Perseid meteor shower event occurred. The Perseid meteor shower originates from the comet Swift-Tuttle. Many people consider this to be the best annual shower.

Perseid meteors occur throughout the sky but every path can be traced back to the constellation Perseus, particularly Eta Persei, a star near the constellation's northern end.

The constellation is named after Perseus, the hero of myth, son of none other than Zeus(ruler of gods) and Danae(a mortal.) Danae was impregnated by Zeus in one of his multitude of forms. In this case he assumed the form of a shower of golden light.

Perseus is predominantly known for slaying the Gorgon, Medusa, whose gaze could turn any living creature to stone.

After decapitation Perseus took Medusa's head to the ocean's edge and summoned the Kraken, another Gorgon who was holding his love Andromeda in bondage.

I missed the meteor shower last night. Was this entire epic turn of events reoccurring while I was tossing back and forth all night?

I dreamed that I saw the shower last night.

The following is a poem that resulted:

Last night I had a dream

that I was watching the Perseid meteor shower

at my parents' house on the hour.

I dreamt that during its occurrence

I was able to pick up the tiny fragments

that fell to the Earth like a hailstorm.

Tiny pieces from astral giants

held in my little hand

looking like sea shells and gravel

I brushed the particles of ice.

I compared it with another.

My neighbors were shooting of fireworks

from up on the hill.

I shot off bottle rockets in correlation.

They were all I had.

Shout out to other Amber, I didn't forget about you, sweetheart.

Land of 1000 Sighs...and Auras

2009-08-10T10:51:00.000-07:00

No, this is not a chapter in The NeverEnding Story saga; this is real.

It is Monday and the work group is quietly chipping away at the tremendous load of paperwork due on the 15th.

From cubicle to cubicle we are loudly sighing like electrical discharges from storm clouds. Some are louder than others...Sharon.

So every couple of minutes you here a breathing stretch and the creak of a chair as the build up to,"uhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

Ever-so-often it's funny because we can detect the amount of pure agony in each whimper.

Just in case you can't visualize let me guide you:

You are typing on the computer and you have been for half an hour. You look at your list and realize you haven't made any progress. You lean back, raise your arms, tilt your head and breeeeeeeeeathe out.

There.

Do you feel better?

Me neither.

That's what the land of 1000 sighs is like today.

Now to auras.

As you know, auras are mystical collections of power that surround a person and can reflect many things ranging from their personality, their energy, and mood.

Friday I was in tune with the mystics. I saw many auras. I saw many intriguing auras and some of romance...and almost amber glow if you will.

Even meeting people for the first time you can experience an aura.

Kelli's entire family had an aura and it was comforting. Her little girl's was shining so brightly I could hardly see anything else.

Kids...they are wonderful because they have no way of trying to contain their aura like us adults do. Pure. And especially when they are being mischievous.

What is your aura today and can you make it last long enough until in the morning?

P.S. Shout out to my girl Ashley.

A Connection?

2009-08-04T07:16:00.001-07:00

According to the UCLA Slang Dictionary 6th edition, obama now means cool. So, if I were to show up to work rocking new kicks and a coworker admired them, she might be inclined to say they were "obama."

Oh, why am I talking about this?

Well, for one today is my birthday and just so happens to be Mr. Cool himself, Barack Obama's birthday, as well.

So, by association I happened to have been born cool since I was born on the birth of cool. Beat that. I asked someone special what was better than being born cool and she nonchalantly replied, "being born cooler." Damn. I guess I'll settle for cool today and cooler tomorrow.

Also, there are some other birthdays to be recognized to today. Louis Armstrong was born on this date, enough said. And Percy Bysshe Shelley, one of the major English Romantic poets, critically regarded among the finest lyric poets in the English language was also born today.

Lastly, let me give a shout out to Kelli and Sarah...booyah.

Watching Comfortably

2009-08-03T09:12:00.000-07:00

During the drive to work today NPR's Morning Edition really interested me. The subject was the time that humans lived in before artificial lighting and how this way of life resulted in what is referred to as "Two Bout Sleep."
Without artificial light humans endured up to 14 hours of darkness during the winter as opposed to our current zero hours, if an all-nighter is needed.
The researchers studied documents from that time period that suggested the two stages being referred to as first stage-dead sleep and second stage-morning sleep, with a watch or watching period in between.
So, are we waking in the middle of the night due to our ancestors sleep patterns? Or are we just so obsessed with being productive that sleeping is becoming a worrisome activity?
Regardless of your sleep stages, your worrying, and everything you can't do in a day comfort is my focus at the moment.
Comfort.
I experienced a new level of comfort this weekend that I have not experienced before. I laughed deeply and it set me free.
Certainty.
Calm.
Clarity.
All in the confines of a relatively new situation with a furry puppy on my lap no less.
That night I slept wonderfully.
Comfort was at an all time high.
I dreamed vividly.
And the next morning came with the sun slowly to rise and dew thick on the grass. I couldn't help but think I was still dreaming. But I wasn't.
I had just slept a full night in the middle of the comfort vortex. It could have been the full dead sleep or the full morning sleep. I don't know. I just know that since then I have been in the watching stage and what I see is beautiful.

One Chance and Many

2009-07-29T12:48:00.001-07:00

A supernova exploded once and created worlds, yet another supernova exploded and destroyed more.

A person once fell and split his toe open and learned a lesson about picking himself back up.

A person once fell and decided to stay down since that was so much easier to do than trying to get back up and risk falling again.

There are unlimited avenues for every scenario in your life.

Why aren't you exploring them?

Are you exploding or creating,

are you falling or failing?

Maybe you don't know?

Maybe I don't know?

Maybe the answers are falling with the snow

but you're just too darned lazy

to get out there before it goes.

The Afterglow

2009-07-27T07:52:00.001-07:00

I couldn't sleep last night.

And I have had trouble sleeping lately.

I had a most awesome weekend, which might have contributed to my insomnia last night.

I took Unisom and still woke up at 12 A.M. and didn't fall back sleep until about three.

I had a few ideas so I flipped on the light and wrote in the notebook while sitting up in bed.

The ideas were not that significant, but as I threw the notebook and turned the light off something significant did happen.

I was leaning over looking up at the compact fluorescent bulb that was just turned off and I noticed a faint glow. The room was dark so I could see it perfectly.

How many times does this happen? How many times have I not noticed?

I took a moment to reflect.

The after glow means so much.

It was as if that moment in time was still there and had I not seen the glow I wouldn't have noticed.

What is it in life that we do to create an afterglow?

Even if it is just for a second, how have you done something lasting enough to keep that moment frozen in time?

And if you have, has anyone noticed, or do they just roll over and shut their eyes to go to sleep?

Starting to day I will be seeking the afterglow.

Is it worth Knowing

2009-07-24T08:02:00.000-07:00

You can't stop yourself from having one of those "moments." The moment that you try to put your life into perspective. You evaluate your place, your position, your progress up to now.

I couldn't sleep last night. Maybe it was sleeping in from the sick day I had to take or my restless legs or pondering the "moment."

I still feel sickly today at the office.

It's cold and I am weak and speaking quietly. Here's a poem to reflect on:

It's so cold

in this office.

They keep it refrigerated

to slow the process

of decaying flesh

and make the ominous odor

of the stinking dead

less noticeable.

Some are too many

some just not enough

maybe we are in slow motion

and the only ones conscious

are we asking the world

to feel sorry for us?

Considering the content to be so dark, I only want to brighten your day. Take light knowing I'm exercising an artistic freedom at the moment.

Feeling What I Should

2009-07-22T11:48:00.000-07:00

After careful consideration last night, I accepted how small we are in comparison to the universe. The following is the first of many poetic thoughts reflecting those feelings.

Look at us
a speck of dust
on the surface of a planet
with a core pressure
3.6 millions times
what we withstand.

A molecule,
of a grain of sand
blowing in the wind
pitched around
across a desert
thousands of miles long.

For Sprites Only

2009-05-28T15:21:00.000-07:00

Everything worth loving
I will love.

Everything worth doing
I will do.

You are beautiful
You are beautiful
You are beautiful.

Pickles Has Passed

2009-05-27T11:18:00.000-07:00

A sad event occurred last week, and due to my busy schedule, I have not had the opportunity to write about it until now. I know that there are worse things happening these days like people losing their jobs and the threat of nuclear holocaust from Iran and North Korea, but I have to acknowledge my little buddy going to the other side.
I had an extremely busy day Thursday of last week. I had only a moment to slip inside my house to grab lunch. Much to my surprise Pickles was not chirping as he normally does when I open the door. I found him laid out in his cage laboriously breathing. He was nearing the death rattle, a sure sign he was near the end.
I had no choice but to go back to work.
Sure enough, when I returned home that night, he was gone. His furry little body lie stiff on his wood chips.
I buried him in a shoebox with his food bowl, a chew toy, and these two jingle balls he liked. I said a couple of words, mainly apologizing for being a bad owner, a prayer, and covered him up.
See, I had originally bought him during a time of extreme loneliness and depression. He was quite the cure for company and just an extra dose of energy in the house.
I had actually used Pickles as a metaphoric guinea pig for trying to build relationships after my last one had crashed.
I think he actually improved my ability.
Thank you, Pickles.
You helped me through a time when I really needed you.
I am much stronger now and think I can face things on my own.

Tiny Inspiration

2009-04-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

I am not an inspirational speaker nor an author of a self-help book.

I will never make a million dollars.

I sometimes think I am slowly going deaf and blind.

I sometimes worry myself half to death about life.

These are facts.

Facts that may not always be the best reflection of me.

But facts that I accept.

So, let me say this:

If you think that I will lie down for you for even one second you are gravely mistaken.

I am strong.

I am strong in a way that you will never be able to understand.

There is always a storm brewing somewhere on the sunniest of days.

I always feel it coming.

Is your hair standing on end?

DudeandBrah; Just for Fun

2009-04-14T10:22:00.001-07:00

I will open by saying that any great business venture never achieved success strictly by a name. But please, once you hear the name you will change your tune.
Dudeandbrah.
Here's my pitch:
Are you tired of drinking your grandparents' brew that they grew up with? Do you feel like a nobody because you go to the bar and have to settle for a beer that just doesn't suit you? Do you feel homogenized by drinking a beer-flavored water like Bud Light all while being told that it is your demographic's beer of choice?
Of course you are.
You want something that speaks to you.
You want a beer that the moment its name leaves your lips everyone around you knows what kind of dude you are.
You're a dudeandbrah, dude.
Reach for the beer that's brewed for you, brah.
I'm sorry, but the name is enough to sell me.
I' m looking for a heady brew that's not big on the hoppy, grainy after taste. I want a rich color with a caramel froth. I want you to get to the bottom with not taking off the top. More when I go into the experimental production phase.

This+That Does not Equal the Jah...Mon.

2009-04-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

Initially, it sounded like a good idea.
And I could certainly see how it could be:
A drink special for the ladies, a relaxed atmosphere, and a DJ spinning reggae and dancehall music.
But inevitably, all non-honest-effort endeavors go wrong and do so noticeably within the first five minutes (This is not a professional opinion).
The DJ was Wine It and according to the Jamaican-clad flier the night was Wine It Wednesday. This led me to believe that there was in fact, a wine special on this night as well as the ladies' night special.
No. Just a hastily made flier.
Wine It, as I am told, is a traditional spelling of something.
WI was late. Well, not really late, but had to go back home for his records. He is a DJ and all, and his profession necessitates them. The spinning didn't start until after 10. Coming on late in the music biz is very important to any diva wannabe. It wasn't necessarily his fault. In his defense our lion of Zion had a splinter in his paw. And you can't spin with a spleeeenter.
Can you?
The music, you ask?
Pretty good, actually.
There were some tracks where the vocalist seemed to be dealing with some type of tracheal affliction. Maybe even polyps on the vocal chords, but their instrumental accompaniment was still good.
From time to time there was an interjection of, "Jah!" or "Yeah!" or "Huh, huh!" in addition to finger pointing straight up. Still don't know what the finger means. Maybe he giving the listeners the finger in the style of what a Reggae DJ would...
The guy must be cool. He looked like Buddy Holly wearing an Eminem costume. He is a character. He is unique.
I know, I know, I know.
Why so negative, Casey?
I'm not all piss and vinegar. I promise you that.
Here comes the merit.
A reggae night with a drink special in a low key bar is an awesome idea. The thought of it happening in Owensboro excited me. And if the situation improves; I will come back. But you have got to feel it. You have got to be confident of what you are doing. You got to sell it and you've got to be sure of what you're selling. Put butts in the seats and keep them there. Don't nonchalantly spin with headphones tucked on your shoulder like you're listening to the NBA game behind you on the screen.
Be in it.
Be a part of what you are doing.
Own what you are doing.
Owensboro needs you just as much as you need Owensboro and just as much as the boro needs a satirical writer. Kudos, Bacchus for trying. Keep growing and showing US what you can do.

Italiano Ristorante

2009-03-12T13:34:00.000-07:00

All I can say is you bring it on yourself.

I had the unfortunate opportunity to eat at an Italian restaurant the other day, and I can't go on knowing that you...are not knowing.

Standing at the door a patron might think this place is worth giving a shot.

Then, said patron will watch several workers of the fine establishment walk by and look right through them. Luckily, a bus boy has enough sense to point in the direction of the guests standing at the door.

Your server will take you to your table, lazily dragging her feet, as if her entire body is saying, "Mom, Dad, I hate you for making me work." Before you sit down she's asking what you want to drink. She doesn't know what they have...but she'll find out. She comes back and asks again what her patrons would like to drink. Ooh, still don't know if they have that. Patron asks, "do you have a wine list?"
"Yeah, I think...let me go check," server disappears.
Server reappears with wine list in her hand. She seems so proud of herself for recovering it.
She flops the list onto my girlfriends bread plate. The accordion-folded paper was also wrinkled as if it had been thrown away...once. I lift it up and look at it. Curious...there is some illegible writing on the back, too.
"How about beer? Do you have bottled beer?"
"Maybe bud, a bud light or two, I think," server vaguely replies.
I settle for a Heineken.
I freaking hate Heineken.
I have what looks like whip cream on my bottle and patron's girlfriend has a piece of a label on her bottle.
What goes great with beer?
Bread sticks.
Two wrinkly, turd-like bread sticks in a paper towel-lined basket.
The paper towels...probably used before. The corner of one paper towel was stained with what most certainly could have been a spot of blood.
Patrons order, regretfully after asking themselves, "Do we want to stay?"
Our salads arrive quickly. Easy since the salad bar is 20 paces behind our table. That's where our server tonged our salad, a reminder that this place was totally a Ponderosa.
She has the Italian restaurant staple Chicken Parmesan. Other patron orders something Pomodoro...it doesn't matter by this point. Her' s is swimming in Sav-a-lot Marinara Sauce. The chicken breast is so thin it is virtually invisible when looked at on its side. The pasta? Half a box of said brand linguine.
My pasta tastes like week old Waffle House bacon grease.
I didn't even get close to finishing it, and that's saying something because I can put down a plate of pasta.
Oh, did I mention that every 20 seconds our server came by asking, "Are we doing alright...so far?"
No, server, our food sucks.
The service is laughable.
I've been staring at the Ponderosa bathroom tile since I sat down and the only entertainment has been the table of 4 obese people with the fattest sitting legs-spread, so his fat can hang between his legs laughing, snorting snot, and making pig noises.
Do we want dessert? Are you effing kidding?
Server cyphers our bill, a daunting task.
The manager emerges from the kitchen and mumbles something to the servers separated by a lattice partition whom are talking about back tatts and partying after work. She then says a name of someone and how he better get his ass up here if he wants to make any tips tonight. She's rough looking. The manager looks like she rolled out of bed into a hangover and slapped blush on her face. It's 8 something at night, by the way.
Our server returns and places the bill cautiously on the table. She should. I'm still wondering if I should be paying for torture. I didn't even get my rocks off. But then I think, she looks as though she's deciding whether or not she wants to quit tonight based on my tip. No, she's not. She's just standing over my shoulder watching me tip and sign the check. I was extremely uncomfortable to say the least. And believe me I am. Had I possessed a Molotov cocktail at that time, that place would have been toast, man.
So much for fine dining in a dingy, once Ponderosa Italian dive on a Friday night.
Incidentally, my GI has not been right since.
p.s.
If you really want to know the name and destination for the truly horrific dining experience just beg in the form of a comment to the blog.

A poem, A poem, A poem.

2009-03-03T13:18:00.000-08:00

This house is empty
this house is cold,
this house is quiet,
this house is home.

I woke up on the couch
peeked my head from under the covers,
and felt the cold
I was hiding from.

The DVD
was on the menu screen,
with no sounds playing,
just some lights flashing.

I was afraid
for only a moment,
thinking the rushing from the electric fireplace,
was the blood pulsing in my ears.

Where are you
and why is the house so still without you?
The draft blows so much faster,
when you're not here to block it.

The way you wrap up
in just one more blanket than my own
has always made me,
keep the thermostat down.

One more toothbrush
leaving a trail of droplets,
back to the holder,
that only collects dust on one side.

Those drops are frozen
in this still house,
that creaks while I'm listening,
but always quiets when you are here.

Get well
get well.

Rumbling Meditation

2009-02-27T06:59:00.000-08:00

What is it about the thunder that draws us in?
Why must we sit and listen to the rumbling above?
Why can a flash of light and vibration of foundation distract us from...television?

If you were up late enough last night as I was, you would have heard the storm.
The waves of rain and wind forcing the branches of our battered trees to twist and break again.
But why do we do it?
Why do we sit and watch the storm?

I looked across the street to see neighbors on their porch, just watching.

Is it mere fascination with a force we cannot control?
Is it a primitive calling to harness what once was our only source of fire?
Is it the idea that God could be doing this out of rage or boredom?
The rain ticked on the window and I found myself just staring into space somehow entrenched in quiet meditation at midnight, when most were asleep.
Why?
Ask the thunder, ask the rain.

As Spring, I Sleep

2009-02-26T08:37:00.000-08:00

I
too
am the spring,
clinching tightly,
to the blankets of the frosty Earth
hugging them, nuzzling,
up to my chin
as I solemnly mutter
"just not yet."
The sun is hot,
but the ground is cold
and a wicked winter chill
still threatens to blow.
Young lilies
and daffodils
hold fast,
steady your blooms in waiting,
the time is soon,
but just not yet.
Spring will sleep
for another hour or two.

I just could not get out of bed this morning. What was it? Was it lack of sleep? Was it work-related depression? Whatever it was is over now. Until tomorrow. That is of course I could awaken to a sprite(as in blond-haired fairy like creature) slumbering beside me. Now, that would be worth waking up to. And would get spring's ass out of bed.

Your Power and Not

2009-02-11T15:42:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a glorious day!
My power, after being M.I.A. for 2 weeks, was restored.
Let us take a moment, in silence, to mourn the loss of all but one of my house plants. Naturally, Pickles survived since he vacationed at my parents' house with master.
A vacation from using my energy, but a vacation from privacy.
And just as normalcy is returned, Mother Nature threatens to take it away.
Oh, Mother Nature, what can a poor boy do to please you?
I know our relationship has been rocky lately, but I can't have you stomping your foot, blowing, and acting so unstable.
How do you convince the most powerful, bi-polar force on our planet to level out on some Lithium?
What's next?
Calling incessantly in the middle of the night and not saying anything at all?
Or is Mother Nature going to bring me a puppy, and then later sit out in front of my house all night watching me?
I'm happy for the electricity again, but Mother, Gaea, I implore you, mellow out, please.

The Momentum Starts Now

2009-02-04T08:26:00.000-08:00

Yes!
Yes!
Yes!
Finally, my city's paper has delivered the news that I wanted to read.
As of today the city and county have approved the tax hike to help pay for the Downtown Development of Owensboro.
Owensboro will have a district. Owensboro will have an area. Owensboro will be a place to go and grow.
Not to mention the newspaper printing that corresponds with the release of VENT's article talking about the future of Owensboro by yours truly.
This is the first step.
The first of so many.
It all starts here.
Now?
Lobby
Lobby
Lobby
for the work to go to local firms.

Hermit Is

2009-02-02T06:39:00.000-08:00

This infernal ice storm has finally chapped me entirely, much like the winter does our gentle lips.
Oh, man.
Tuesday, when the rain was freezing down, it was exciting. The thought of being off from work and playing in the snow was fun.
But then more and more kept coming down and the fun started to freeze over. I spent
Tuesday night up to this morning at my parents with varying relatives and friends of the family.
Wednesday night was capped off with the creaking of ice and ancient trees breaking and falling in the night. Not to mention the multicolored transformer explosions. My family sat on the front porch listening to the eerie demise of the once forest that we call our neighborhood. "Creation from disaster, creation," is what I kept saying. Oh, the naivety of my eternal optimism at a time like this. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Luckily, I sought solstice in Jenny and at her house Friday and Saturday. It was a brief period of peace.
Yes, I have no power at my house, and my toilet is leaking, but there are others worse off.
I just am in need of privacy. A person like me has to recharge. I must recharge. It is only now, when I can't recharge that the hermit in me comes out.
If you see me today I will be frowning.
But somewhere inside me my little hermit self is smiling knowing peace is near.

The Slush and the Trodden

2009-01-27T13:16:00.000-08:00

I must tell you that while I was typing this title the power clicked off, and then back on. Maybe it is a sign from God that I need another title.
Or maybe... there are more important events to worry about.
We are under ice.
This morning was beautiful with everything looking sugarcoated, but with the beet juice, salt, and sand, it has all started to melt.
All around me tree limbs are crashing to the ground smashing cars, gutters, and anything else in the way.
It's as if the sugarcoating got sick and now has a cold like half of the people I know. The drippy ice is like the snot that is being propelled into tissue around this infirmary... I mean office.
Don't lose hope, tonight it will all freeze again, like Owensboro is taking an antihistamine.
I have not stopped and I will not. I have been working all day, unlike some who I am totally envying right now.
But it is good.
I get caught up on paper work, wear my boots, and stomp holes in the slush so you can see where I have tread.

Arms/Alms Outstretched

2009-01-19T07:33:00.001-08:00

Well, I guess some thanks are in order.
Let me take a moment to say, "Thank You, Big Guy."
I asked for snow last week, and sure enough it came this morning. There was enough of the white stuff to blanket everything in sight. Doesn't everything look a bit more romantic smothered in snow? And please, let me clarify, at first. Not when the city has plowed and the sand, salt, and prune juice have turned it into a filthy mess. It's the moments before anyone does anything about it. When everyone just stops and says, "Okay."
Luckily, most children were out of school thanks to Martin Luther King Jr. and the strides he took for civil rights. Not for me. I'm still working today, kind of.
Let me also be thankful for new beginnings.
For the opportunity to start fresh with talented, like-minded individuals, and enthusiasm for the ability to make things different.
You must start somewhere, and I'm glad to be starting here.
I look for energy and vision in people because that's what I have.
Thank you for that.
Thank you for them.
No longer will I let the "what ifs" disable me;
I'm 27 years old and don't have time to.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Against the Wind

2009-01-15T11:14:00.000-08:00

I am a writer.
So, when something happens that's so significantly symbolic, I must speak up.
I am ecstatic to announce that I am writing for Vent Magazine, a proactive magazine geared to inform, entertain, and energize Owensboro.
I conducted a sit-down-and-talk with the President and CEO of Owensboro's Economic Development Corporation, Nicholas Brake, and the head of Vent Magazine, to talk about several topics.
The sit down generated more excitement and enthusiasm over Owensboro's growth, and opportunity, than I have ever experienced. It was electric and I was a super ion.
The man has ideas that are so advanced, yet feasible. I will not go on about them now. You must wait for the Vent Magazine feature...more on that later, for sure!
So, after the interview, the head of Vent, and I left the coffee shop.
The wind was biting yesterday. It was ushering in a cold front from the North that sank our region into the teens that night. Around 2 P.M. the wind arrived. It fiercely blew over the Ohio and into the streets of downtown where our sit down had taken place.
The coffee shop entrance is located in a block of buildings that shields one from the wind. As my friend and I spoke about the future and the magazine, we turned the corner and were blasted by the nor'easter. It was the type of wind that takes your breath away. I remember him saying something like, "God, I can't breathe."
We leaned it and laughed.
Our clothes were stretched back and our voices sounded distance with the wind bursting in our ears.
Here comes the symbolism:
This sit down was for the second issue of the magazine. The magazine, which has become a force that I am willing to do anything for and the boss as well.
So here we are, two guys, going into the unknown together, laughing, having our breath taken away. At times, he would turn his back to breathe while I would face the wind. Then I would turn my back while he would face the wind. We did not stop and won't stop. Even if we are leaning, even if we are fighting, even if we aren't breathing, we will make this happen, together.

Spitting Snow and Schooling Joe

2009-01-13T13:01:00.000-08:00

Greetings.
How I wish I was blogging in a winter wonderland, sadly I am not. The sky has been doing nothing but spitting snow all day long and I'm just sick of it. To me, nothing goes better with freezing-your-knickie-knocks-off cold weather than snow. But it just won't blow.
This morning when I went out to my car and the flurries were starting to stick to my windshield I became so excited. Each person that came into the office was asked, "Is it snowing, is it snowing yet?"
No, with every co-worker.
And to think that just yesterday we were talking about the silent snow that falls and blankets the earth. Everything is so still and peaceful.
Instead...just the knickie knocks.
So, what have I done to combat this?
I explained to a co-worker what a blog was and then showed him mine (shameless way to add a reader.)
Joe...meet the Internet. "Hello, have we met?" (In binary code of course.)
There was a bystander, whom was scolded for not reading mine for some time, too. So, this one is for two.
P.S.
Being cooped up in the office all day drowsily awaiting snow has made me super impish. I sassed at least half the people I work with half to death.
So, God, I guess what I'm asking for is to please give me snow so I can stop annoying everyone, and thanks for letting me school Joe.
P.S.S. I have so much more to blog about, especially important changes in my life, but these must wait.
P.S.S.S. The picture is not of me or Joe.

Busting Dawns's Balls

2009-01-05T05:25:00.000-08:00

Yes.....today I win, Mr. Rooster.
Today, I beat you.
I was up even before you.
I was up early enough to kick Monday morning in the balls before he knew what happened.
For what seems like an eternity, I have been hitting snooze on Mondays just praying to feel rested. I've come in late, called in sick, and just been a grumpy ass.
But not today.
I woke up at 5:30 this morning on my own volition and said, "Screw it. I might be crazy for doing it, but I'm doing it. I'm getting up."
I arrived to work while it was still dark...ugh, that's not something I could get used to. But let me tell you, the silence was great for morning meditation.
A side note:
I just happened to wake up this morning due to a nightmare I was having about my other job. Does that mean I'm working too much? Does that mean unconscious me is trying to tell conscious me something?
Whatever the case is, I have accomplished quite a bit since I was awakened by a nightmare before the crack of dawn.
The following is a list:
I was able to take my time getting ready. Not once did I say, "Oh, shit!" when I looked at the clock.
I did a load of laundry and even folded it, son!
I paid 3 bills online.
I did one crossword, not completely.
I checked my online statement and balanced my check book, figuratively of course.
And wrote this little blog, all before 8 A.M.!
I just love feeling on top of things and not lazy. I just think that if I can start the week off right then this week won't be so bad. Maybe something great will come my way. Maybe something like the next step in my career and/or direction with education. So much for just getting up!
Alright all you paperboys, newscasters, and farmers, don't get huffy over me bragging about how much I've done before 8. I give you tons of credit for doing it every Monday. Just give me a nod for doing it once.
Yeah, Monday, you're not so bad. And you, Rooster, don't even think about making a peep tomorrow morning; I'm sleeping in!
Ooh, sleep. I think I'll do take a nap.

It's "that word, the word, it," and everything else

2009-01-02T09:40:00.000-08:00

"ain't it a shame...how a word can tell you more than words can say-ay-ay-ay?"
It's true, and it's not.
Are you confused yet?
You should be.
Love, being in love, describing love, knowing when and how to say "I love you" is all so hard. Writers have been writing about for as long as anyone can remember, and yet, there is no definitive answer.
Is the perfect time in the embrace of a new year's eve kiss while love is all around you....?
Quite possibly.
My opinion, be it as it may completely individualistic, is yes.
My God, love is a feeling that pours over you like a waterfall. An icy spring shower than comes upon you instantly and will most certainly take your breath away. A shower that happens and it an instant leaves you drenched and speechless. You don't know if your eyes are watering from the rain or emotion. You stop, because at that moment, everything else is secondary. Compare it to the beginning of a nervous breakdown, your brain is saying holdup! But your heart says let go. And you do. You let go because it feels so natural to do.
Then you hear it...I love you, too. So much!
Forever you are linked.
Linked because of the moment you shared.
Yes, writers, I have taken a heartfelt stab at what it feels like. Maybe not for you, but for me and am putting it out there for you to see.
I will be back to blog....sometime...when I'm able to come back down from the clouds.

...yes, this is dark, but just for today

2008-12-30T13:16:00.000-08:00

No matter what, someone will hate you.
No matter what you do, someone will hate it.
No matter how hard you try, someone will hate harder.
The world can be an ugly place.
The world is full of people.
You are not an ugly person.
People make the world ugly.
People want you to be ugly, like them.
You are not an ugly person.
People want you to share their misery.
People feel they are the only ones that hurt.
People want to hurt to stop hurting.
You might be an easy target.
People hate that you can be happy.
People don't want to believe that you are strong.
You might be an easy target.
You are not an ugly person.
He or she are not ugly people.
Know it.
Grow it.
Show it.

Dunked in the icy Ohio...kinda

2008-12-29T12:09:00.000-08:00

It's over.
It's so over and I couldn't be anymore upset. Christmas, you know, "the most wonderful time of the year..." is over.
And I witnessed it at the very second it happened.
Christmas night I was driving home in my cold, dark car from Jenny's house. I enjoyed myself, by the way. It was about ten till midnight when I set out. I was half way between Owensboro and Henderson looking up at the clear, night sky, reflecting about how well Christmas had gone mindlessly singing along to Elvis' Silver Bells when...BAM!
An immediate turnover to some shit like Disco Fever. Elvis didn't even get a chance to finish his song. Not only did they cut off Christmas, but they cut off the King! There were no commercials, no "Merry Christmas everyone," no transition.
It was a jolt.
I felt as if I had been dunked in icy water and just brought up for air. I frantically scanned the radio for more Christmas music, but nothing.
I shall not name the radio station. But let me say this: you are on my shit list; which is way worse than Santa's naughty list.
Why?
Why must we cut the season off like we do?
Who takes the tree down Christmas day or the day after?
Who can't wait for the holidays to be over?
Phase out.
Let the holidays go merrily like they arrived. Not like a bandaid, not like a bandaid!
Eh, what am I talking about? There's going to be year end sales and all sorts of events for the next month.
Still; let me let go, slowly.

Listen Up Fatties; it's about to get serious

2008-12-16T16:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, chill. My title has nothing to do with making fun of people that are overweight. When I say fatties, I mean my fellow McDonalds indulgers.
I love the stuff. At times, I have been addicted to the stuff. At times, I've had to face personal demons to stop eating the stuff. So, stop freaking out and start paying attention to me blog.....fatties.
In case you haven't noticed, sneaky Mc-E-dees has pulled a fast one on the dollar menu. The blessed dollar menu that used to boast the double cheeseburger has now slimmed down to what McDonalds calls the McDouble.
What's the difference?
As far as I can tell; one slice of cheese and maybe the size of the bun, and I think it's not as heavy anymore. Keep in mind these tests have not been examined in a Mclabratory. So, my research is inconclusive. This information might be available on the website, but who the hell is going to do that?
What does this mean?
For one: less cheese equals less fat grams. Maybe a smaller bun and patty, again, less fat grams and carbs. Altogether, the McDouble is not half bad. We all need a lower caloric intake. I might even be able to tell you exactly how much of a difference it all is from the website, but I will leave it to you to do on your own. Besides, reading and writing my blog is way more important.
Impact.
This is it, people. This tiny detail. The devil is in the details. The details that we just so happen to look over everyday. What else have you not noticed lately? The price of gas going sky high and then dropping to a 6 year low...of course we catch that. But the Mcdouble?
No way.
Or maybe you catch yourself mumbling, "Mcdouble, McDouble," as you drive off wondering why saying it sounds so weird.
Those details, the ones that change the world or change nothing are there, you just have to notice them. What have you overlooked lately?

"Raindrops keep falling on my head..."

2008-12-09T11:21:00.000-08:00

Ugh. Today. Could it get any worse?
Not only is it rainy, but it's cold rain. The type of rain that drips drops into the crevices between your clothing and skin.
Like Death has slid his bony fingers to caress your soul. He toys. He preys on the emotions you feel on a cold, rainy, gray day.
The inkling of a feeling like the death of loved one.
A little of me has died today.
Died, driving, staring at the tea-colored puddles rippling on the street.
What is it about these days that keeps even the best of Christmas carols from warming me up and making me sing?
Why must this day make rashes flair up and send children home from school?
Why must my sinuses be acting up today? Making the pressure build behind my eyes and the weight of my head feel like it has ballooned. All sounds are muffled and I'm just not sure if I'm awake yet...or still dreaming.
Will the alarm go off?
Will this end and a vibrant winter sun shine?
Coworkers are planning on staying inside on a day like this.
"I forgot to lock my car, can I click the clicker from the doorway..."
The doorway-the threshold...between here and there, light and dark, cold and warm.
I'm at the threshold today.
Waiting just long enough for the wind to change
and shake my dismay.

Calling all Wannabes

2008-12-03T08:42:00.000-08:00

AKA's, alter egos, pseudonyms, pen names, and stage names: I've had it!
Okay, I haven't.
I' m just jealous because I want to have one. I want to have one and my friends and family not think I'm ridiculous for having one.
I was informed today by a coworker, an avid reader of People magazine, that Beyonce has an alter ego now. And her alter ego has released an album. By the way, in case you are wondering, the name is Sasha Fierce. I like it. It's sexy and edgy. Supposedly, this new, I mean other Beyonce is more hip hop. Great. I was just thinking the other day that Beyonce needed to bring it a little harder. I mean she's got a great voice singing about love and crap, but I want to hear her get dirty. And I'm sure this new phase of her career has nothing to do with her being married to H-to-the-O-V.
But seriously, what gives?
Have you noticed that only actors, writers, musicians, and other preforming types are the only ones that get away with this?
There's Prince>the symbol>artist formerly known as Prince>Prince, Garth Brooks>Chris Gaines, Sean Combs>Puff Daddy>Puff>P Diddy>Diddy>now what?, Mariah Carey>Mimi>Mariah, Marshall Mathers>Slim Shady>Eminem, and then who?
Why can't I, a common case manager, have an alter ego? You know, one that shows up to work on time, is completely efficient, and makes everyone laugh. Or maybe I'm aiming too low.
How about an alter ego that is a genius detective, who wears the coolest clothes, has all the women drooling over him, and always closes the case.
Nah.
That's just too Hollyweird for me.
I like me.
In fact, I'm probably cool enough to be someones alter ego. Yeah. I could definitely see someone saying I wanna be a hot, intelligent, humorous dandy, with a bad-ass girlfriend, and that rocks the hell out of a mediocre job while writing a blog when motivated.
Today, life is good.

The Majestic Snow

2008-11-20T15:30:00.000-08:00

Today was busy as hell. I was double timed with meetings/training until 2 and then was sideswiped by a million other tasks all at once. I was a tad bit tiffed by it all. Being busy made the day fly by, though. I had a visitor, which made it great, but the day was none-the-less hectic.
Add to that...
There's been nothing but depressing crap in the news for God knows how long about the economy, the Middle East, and effing U.S. politics and it all came to a head.
I might have slammed my fists down a couple times, too.
And then...it happens...it starts to snow.
What's funny is that one person came in and said, "Hey, it's snowing." And then another, and another, and then everyone was talking about it, just like how the snow starts. You see that one flake and then a couple more and then it's snowing full force.
At first I could not go out to look because I was in the middle of something and bitching. Someone even called me out on not being enthusiastic enough. But the stress overwhelmed me and I had to put down my stack of papers and go to gaze.
I flew up the few steps to the large glass paneled doors to see the swirling flakes in panoramic view.
There was a coworker there just watching and smiling. I turned to her and just like the others said, "It's snowing," and she replied, "Yeah. It is, isn't it?"
Innocently, like two children, taking time to just enjoy the moment. I guess that's what everyone was doing and reminding each other to go do when they say, "It's snowing."
So taking a moment like I did today just made me start over. I had to forget it all and stare at something that seems so magical...like that first snow to remember what simple things joy in life can be derived from.
There is a child in me and there is a child in us all, still. I'm just glad that someone was able to remind to acknowledge that today.

Picklesickle and other Wordplay

2008-11-18T13:11:00.000-08:00

Old man winter showed his face today an blew an angry, icy wind that instilled fear in me.
Fear, I say.
Fear of the cold, fear of jacking up my heat, fear of jacking up my heat which in-turn jacks my bank statement.
Forget that you get to wear awesome coats and scarves and boots with the furrrrr...it's cold!
This will now be my morning: wake up to NPR and gently roll back the covers to feel my body warmth dissipate immediately.
What comes next?
Debate hitting snooze; but wait...that would mean getting out of bed for what, 8 more minutes of sleep?
NO!
I creep that first foot out onto the hardwood that feels as though it has frozen over with a sheet of ice. I hear Pickles scratching around in his cage, luckily he didn't from becoming a Picklesickle during the night.
Now my shower will take even longer to heat up while my nipples shrivel to what looked like freckles. And I just know when I step out of the shower they will again shrivel.
It's now a race to get dressed to fend off the jet of cold air rushing through my decrepit windows. don't feel so sorry for me; I'm having some replaced.
That brings me to efficiency, my topic for Third Tuesday tonight:
How energy efficient can one be? You get the triple-paned windows, over insulated abode, and energy star appliances, but then what?
What about when our gas runs out?
What about when your geothermal power is not enough to warm us all?
I want to save money, but I also want to know that a hundred years from now people that inhabit the planet will be able to bitch about their energy bills, too.
Why are we not planning ahead, ahead?
Aren't we acutely aware that one day the oil well will run dry?
Don't we realize that there is only so much coal to be scraped from the Earth?
Yes, these are questions that I wonder, even as I wish I had an electric hand warmer to warm my icy hands as I take hold of a warm wiener to peepee.
But what can I do? This is just one of so many mornings that will go on until old man winter goes back up north to vacation on the poles.

Vanity, just plain vanity

2008-11-11T13:04:00.000-08:00

While I prepared for work this morning, I looked in the mirr...no, I gazed in the mirror and was horrified by what my hair was doing, or more importantly, not doing.
It was mopped out.
It looked like a raccoon had crawled on top of my head and died sometime during the night. It was flat on top and poofed on the sides.
It was embarrassing as hell....and this was after I fixed it.
Luckily, I had an appointment with my stylist. I showed up and she gave me bug eyes. And the bug eyes were not from my hair, but because I was a day early.
Instead of waiting a day, I decided to wait through her actual appointment until she could cut my hair. I had time, so I perused the fashion mags stacked between the chairs. I found a do that I thought might be nice to do. As I looked at the picture I could see myself in it. And why not?
I'm in shape, not terribly disfigured, and will soon have that same haircut.
What it would feel like to have a stylist, designer clothes, and tons of money for looking the best I can? I know the looks to give: serious eyes, stern brow, and jaw clinched tight for maximum square jaw line. Then there's the I'm so comfortable I laugh so that you can see my crow's feet smile with the head tilted back ever-so-slightly. Oh, and don't forget the "I can't remember if I shaved today or not," scruffy look. See, I know how to pose, now where's my mineral water?
"Casey, we're ready," she says and I fall back to Earth from my grandiosity.
It's just a do in a magazine, but damn I worked it for a couple of seconds.
Hopefully s o m e o n e will like it. Anything's better than dead, half-flat raccoon.

Embracing the Time and Nation

2008-11-06T08:13:00.000-08:00

It's Thursday, two days after the election, and you could say I'm lazy for not writing about it until today. I do things on MY time. This revelation came to my dad last weekend. "Casey," he says "Oh, he'll get it done...it might be next week or next month, but he'll get it done. He does things at his own pace."
So, I'm writing about the election at my own pace.
Besides, for the past 6 months all we've heard about is the election, so who minds waiting a couple of days for my take on it all?
I'm a Democrat, but I agree with some Republican ideals. I have to say that as far as a feeling that I get about which is the right choice, being Democratic feels right.
When I was standing behind the cardboard partition voting I came to the presidential boxes and couldn't resist this ear-to-ear smile that came over me as I voted for Obama. It was a combination of feeling confident about my choice, making history, and rebelling against my parents(which seems a little funny at age 27, but I did anyway.)
Flash forward to that night when I'm watching the results flood in on the multiple channels covering it. The result seems clear; Obama will be our 44th president. Jenny changes the channel so we can watch The Office on TBS. At a commercial break she turns back to the news and it's done. Obama takes the presidency with a resounding victory. "My God. It happened so fast," I remember saying.
We scan the channels to see the various reactions of CNN, Fox News, etc.
We all just kind of looked at each other like, "it's happened, this is real, history was made right in front of us."
A little later when I heard McCain's concession speech I almost choked up, as did he. I'm sure McCain would have been a great president, but it wasn't the right time, and it was probably his last chance. I admired his speech greatly.
Then came Obama with his acceptance speech. I was linked, as probably every other voter watching, with him at that moment. Our nation, starting over and making history at the same time. The unity that I felt was immense. I look forward to the future, a future united, a future that I hope will become a past that we are damn proud to say WE were a part of, TOGETHER.

Negative Cell Phone Enjoyment

2008-10-29T10:07:00.000-07:00

Hello out there all you faithful blogger readers! Teasing. Thank you so much for reading thus far! I'm so desperate for attention.
This blog, should provoke two thoughts: Oh, my God is that Zack Morris and his fantastically large cell phone from "Saved by the Bell"? Yes. So awesome. And... what great blog topic for today.

This morning I came into the office and realized that I had no service on my personal cell phone which has made me feel completely and totally useless and bored! My work cell phone doesn't have service either, but who cares about that?

I am expecting a phone call about my furnace, so that's super important. Other than that I'm not expecting anything special except for the thousand text messages I send in a day! I need this to get through the day!

Supposedly, the cell phone towers are malfunctioning. Either that or aliens or terrorists or alien terrorists. What would be worse in this case? Honestly, I don't care what the cause is, just give me back my cell phone. God, why are you doing this to me, now?!

I can communicate through email, but that just doesn't give me the instant gratification of a text message. I'm eagerly awaiting life to return back to normal. At this point I don't even care if i had to use a giant Zack Morris phone.

Plug in for Romance

2008-10-23T14:24:00.000-07:00

Hello out there, all you fakers and fronters,
have I got something for you.
It's love, it's lust,
it will singe off the dust,
of your pathetic single life.
It's a love light for your love life,
a miraculous, melty tool.
It's an electric fireplace.
Installation is easy; just plug it in.
Then hold tight
as you say goodnight,
with your lover
tucked under the covers.
But seriously, I just bought an electric fireplace that I am hoping will save me a few hundred dollars this fall and winter. I just plugged it in this afternoon and am going home soon to check it out. It's not just for me, if you know what I mean, it's for pickles, and for you. For comfort, for pleasure, for non-sock feet on icy floors during cold weather.
It might even be eco-friendly? I'm hoping it's eco-nomically-friendly.
Keep it toasty.

nebula, oh nebula

2008-10-20T13:35:00.000-07:00

I took out my contacts because they were drying out in my eyes. I was beginning to have trouble seeing at the end of the night. Maybe my sight was distorted by the cool, dry air of that fall night, or from a smokey sports bar. I could have been afflicted by it all.
Maybe 2 AM is when it was that got around to taking them out. The house was quiet and I could almost hear my blood pulse through my body in unison with the petite steps padding through the carpeted hallway.
I turned the corner, as did the nebula. I was face to face with the birth of a star. The stellar, galactic cloud that eventually collapses into a star. Her eyes were striking and timeless. I was frozen and afire in the vacuum of space.
Maybe my contacts had only shielded me from her eyes so far, but in that light, those eyes, went on forever.
I just sat on the sink, looking.
Eventually I mumbled, "do you need to use this?"
And those nebulous eyes almost whispered, smiling, "umm...yes."
Quite possibly I had mistaken what I saw, or maybe eventually everyone comes face to face with an astral body and it's no big deal. Regardless, I can still see them. And the picture above doesn't even do them justice.

The Death Sleep

2008-10-14T07:34:00.000-07:00

"Sleep, my child" is what I wish someone could say and I would immediately fall asleep. Unfortunately, it is not that easy. Do you ever have those nights when you are so tired that you can't sleep? I had one last night. I fell asleep on the couch watching a documentary about Hinduism and woke up two hours later. I remembered that I still had to water my plants, so I did at 12:30 last night. After making coffee for in the morning I was tired, but not sleepy.
Dammit.
I got online and played for awhile, then tried to commit to sleep.
Unsuccessful.
I laid in bed and let all the things worry me that would take place tomorrow. Then I began to worry about my life, my soul, my financial situation, and everything else. I do not recall when I finally drifted off.
The point?
The point is I might have drifted off long enough for good sleep, but not the "death sleep."
The death sleep is the crucial four hours of deep REM sleep, that one must have every night. Sleep researchers have deemed this sleep necessary for a longer life span and general health. The more days you experience the deep sleep, the more days you will live. So, I call it the death sleep.
I'm hoping for more death sleep tonight.
Does it help that I daydream all day? I certainly wish it did.

Electric Blue

2008-09-23T16:12:00.001-07:00

I have spent over a month without writing a blog.
What does that say about me?
What does that say about you?
Yes, you. You, for not saying, "What the eff, Casey? Why haven't you posted lately?"
Kidding.
It's entirely my fault.
Who reads my posts anyways?
Today, though, I write.
I stayed late in the office and was torn away from my desk by a fire drill. The time was about 5:15 P.M. central. The heat was still as intense as any summer day (the first day of fall was yesterday). The leaves were blowing across the parking lot making crispy noises from being completely dry. I was standing in a way to block the setting sun from blinding a coworker. I looked at her in her sunglasses and even though I was blocking the sun and she was wearing shade she was squinting.
I knew it was electric blue time.
Electric blue is that shade of blue I only notice during fall. I remember remarking to her that it's the only time of the year when the sky will look like this. I said something about Autumn sunsets, but I don't think she agreed.
I whirled upwards and stared into the clearest of electric blue. The color also reflects the time of year when that chill just starts to whisper in the early morning.
I can definitely see why people love Autumn so much.
Autumn is for lovers.
When the trees are falling asleep, the people are wide awake.

High-fiving instead of Supersizing me

2008-08-15T06:07:00.000-07:00

Yes!
I am so over it!
Over what, you ask?
Effing McDonald's, man.
I was addicted to the deadly duo of a double cheeseburger and medium fries for three days a week for a period of two months. Each night, before the binging, I would feel actual symptoms of withdrawal. Just knowing that I was about to "fix" made me a wreck. Not to mention after I ate I just wanted to lie down and chill. That whole "fixing" and then just hanging really made me feel like I was shooting or hitting the pipe.
I'm no Morgan Spurlock, but I do agree with just about everything he said in Supersize Me, that pertains to the fast food industry. And I can certainly tell how the sugar, sodium, and trans fat stick to your body. I was steadily putting on weight and steadily disgusting myself.
I have not had the vile food in two weeks and am finally feeling like I have left it behind me. My energy is back up and my digestive track is regular again. Thank God. I don't know how much longer my friends, co-workers, and I could have stood my sewage gas.
I think a sequel to Supersize Me needs to be done. I think Morgan should should put himself on a diet of health foods that claim to be healthy. Like "made with whole grain" breads, "low fat" foods, and any other phony marketing scheme.
Yep, I'm filling lighter and my clothes aren't any tighter.
I must admit, the shakes were almost enough to make me cave last week. Now that I'm free from fast food what's next? Sex? Ha! it's been long enough already.

Digging Daddy Time

2008-08-07T06:35:00.000-07:00

Yes!
I am a father.
Okay, not in the sense that I impregnated a woman or anything.
But, as of yesterday, I am the proud father of a short-haired, brown guinea pig named Pickles.
I don't think it has adjusted to me, yet. The manual says it could take awhile, and that the first day I should just leave it alone.
Last night before I went to bed I tried to give it a good night carrot. Pickles started racing around its cage like a brown streak of lightning. I perceived it as discomfort. I'm going to give it plenty of time to acclimate before I try to pick it up and cuddle it.
Don't worry. I'm not going to freak out and start buying clothes for it or anything. But I will take multiple pictures with it. Maybe even Wal-mart studio pictures.
Yep, expect Christmas cards with yours truly and Pickles.
I just needed something to care for. Something furry to play with. I just needed some company. And plus, if things go well with Pickles, I might actually be able to handle a dog, and then another human relationship. But for now I'm going to start small.
p.s.
The picture is not Pickles. A picture will surface soon. This is just one I found on-line, but they're guinea pigs, people, this one looks similar.

Birthday Wish

2008-08-05T06:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my birthday. I am now 27.
Great. One year older and one more reason to worry about my health.
In three years I can start to look for wrinkles. In three years I can start worrying about my hair falling out a little more than I do now. In three years I can start feeling like the creepy 30 year old who's not married and doesn't have kids and is dating on-line.
Now that I think about it I'm feeling a little like Billy Crystal in City Slickers. That scene when he's in his son's class room talking about death and being married to someone you don't recognize.
Don't get me wrong, I don't think Billy Crystal is funny. But that one scene in the movie, that was me yesterday.
This is what I want out of a birthday...instead of candles and cake and crap, I want to go back to one year of my life for one day and make a difference in my life. Or at least be able to go back to relive a day from my past. That would be the perfect birthday present. Maybe a day from high school or middle school. Someday when I could change something then that would effect me now. Kind of like a Back to the Future thing, only without Biff, he's an asshole.
But, honestly I spent last night at my parents' house. They cooked and my family bought me a cake and I actually blew out candles. I haven't done that in forever. All in all, it was nice. I guess I'm not so suicidal today.

The Good, the Bad, and the Inexcusable

2008-07-31T06:58:00.000-07:00

I attended the Forecastle Festival in the great city of Louisville this past weekend and had quite a time.
I went for Dr. Dog. Or as Velocity Weekly calls them, "America's Gomez," which I don't think is a stab at all. I dig Gomez, as well.
I was able to be front row for the show that started late, due to sound problems. The sound check was very short, much better than Groovatron, but that's later in the blog.
Dr. Dog came to please.
Their infectious tunes and soulful singing woo you in close enough to blast you off with a steady stream of rocking out. My friend, Eric, said they reminded him of the Who when they "went off."
That's good. That's great.
I was pissed about the sound problems, though. But, like the true rockers they are, the band persevered. Periodically throughout the set, the guitarists, stage left, would go over and ax kick their shitty amps that were shorting out without missing a beat. It was so rock and roll.
I can't wait to see these guys again.
And now to Groovatron.
What the eff?
Okay, there's this movie Electric Apricot, by Les Claypool. It's a mocumentary about jam bands. There's a scene when they are in the studio and the drummer, played by Les, takes hours to tune his drum set. There might also be in a scene in This is Spinal Tap like when they sound check for like hours.
Any who, Groovatron spends twice as long to sound check, as they did to perform. They all sing, I think. They shouldn't. Their music sounds like Frank Zappa throwing up on Miles Davis. And that's putting it nicely. Their vocals could use a complete overhaul, and by that I mean stop singing all together. I saw this band on a campground at a Phish show, once. That's where they belong, campsites. Free campsites.
Their "fans" were the type of college kids with semi long hair, maybe even dreds, still wearing hemp, and probably tripping acid thinking they are counter culture. Kids are idiots these days. I guess they need a band like Idiotron to lead them.

Growing and Showing with Cinema

2008-07-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

I am not ignoring the fact that by now every blogger in the world has written about The Dark Knight and Heath Ledger's performance and everything else that goes along with it.

I know mentioning the movie might already be overkill. That in mind; I'm still going for it.

Every-so-often a movie comes along that contains the zeitgeist in which it is released. Dark Knight not only set box office records, featured a posthumous performance, and contained more special effects for IMAX theaters; it set the pace for US. It serves as a marker in time of where WE are. Amid upcoming elections, Olympics, war, and the shit hole economy, everyone was able to stop for a moment and say, "Yeah, there we are."

That idea has been echoing in my mind since Sunday when I saw the movie.

I guess it's the same type of feeling when Jaws came out for the first time and had everyone afraid and buzzing. Or when The Wizard of Oz was finally converted to film. There was a new take on life and on the way films were made. We realized we had advanced.

I guess what I'm comparing it to is when you are growing up and you mark your height on a wall in your house that you have been doing for years. You can see the lines and the date and actually track your growth.

It's been some time since WE have stopped to measure ourselves, but I'm glad we did. Maybe next time we can use another significant event to mark it in the future. Until then I'm okay with the movie metaphors.

Great films, great men, great yearning.

2008-07-17T06:57:00.000-07:00

Why?
Why was I not born early enough so that I could have grown up in the seventies? I'm not going to say that I would rather live then, but I certainly would have loved it.
Okay, maybe that's a little vague. I mean, what's my reasoning, right?

Two names:
Frank Serpico and Popeye Doyle.

Damn, even those names are bad ass. If I had kids, I would definitely consider both full names.
Frank Serpico Aud and Popeye Doyle Aud. Maybe I'm getting off track.

I love the wardrobes of these movies. French Connection features European attire. Many of the characters are donned in Italian and French cut suits, jackets, and shoes. I love the fit. Their clothes actually correspond with their body type. It's so efficient. Oh, and the popped collars and overcoats just scream espionage.
Serpico features the same type of fitting attire. Although, Serpico has more flair than Doyle. Serpico is a chameleon. His array of hats alone impress me. I love the scenes when he comes in looking like a common hippy and the next day he's a rabbi. Genius! Serpico's transition from a clean cut rookie, to a mustached patrolman, to a long-haired bearded bad ass detective is amazing.

The color schemes are also what get me. I am now looking for that type of brown that's like an orange, but meaner. If I can find it in a jacket I will wear it now. I don't care if it's 94 degrees Fahrenheit! I'm wearing it and I'm packing a heater under it, too. That's right, a piece.

And doesn't anyone wear hats anymore? Everybody wore hats back then. It was so super spy cool! I' m bringing the hats back. I'm going out for the Fedora, the Bowler, and the Popeye Doyle. Yes, a cooler time when you could go into the brothers' bar and hear some nasty funk on the jukebox and cars were tanks. Yeah, want to be a seventies detective, but a name change would definitely be in order, maybe Sweeny Aud.

Back on the Bike

2008-07-15T06:52:00.001-07:00

Yesterday was monumental.
Alright, so it wasn't actually monumental, but it was big.
I was able to get back on my bike and ride, baby. I rode like the wind.
After being grounded for just over a week after my toe-splitting wreck I was more than enthused about getting back on my hog. I'm talking about a bicycle, but so what? I can call it my hog. I never realized how happy simple exercises like riding a bike make me.
I spent a week limping around, constantly worrying about my toe getting hit by a swinging door, or some oaf clodhoppering all over it. It was nice to walk normal today and get on the instrument of toe death that maimed me. I showed you bike!
This is going to sound completely asinine of me , but what the heck. I felt like people were staring at me while I was limping with a bandage on my foot. I certainly could not handle a wheelchair, a walker, or any type of physical abnormality. I am shallow. I am vein. I am happy to look and feel the way I do.
I still can't run or play tennis, but when I do I'm going to kick my brother's ass.
Yes, I am back on the horse, back on the bike, and back on track.
p.s.
Yes, the picture truly embodies how I feel about it.

Double Green

2008-07-11T06:30:00.001-07:00

I worked last night at my second job. I moonlight as a tex-mex server...lucky me. Last night was my first night back on my feet after my toe-splitting bike wreck. It felt good to wear shoes and move faster than a goofy flip flop waddle.
The night was pretty slow until about 8 P.M. when we got a pop. Big tops and other tops poured in the restaurant. I ended up making more than double of what I normally make on a Thursday night. After I cashed out I counted my loot and shrilled. I couldn't help but tell my coworkers the joyous news.
After I had proclaimed my superiority in tips and sales I felt something grip me tightly. Greed. I know I've said it before, but there is something about holding a wad of cash that makes my heart race and a cold sweat break out. I stared at the green, counted it again, and wanted to go stash it in a drawer and guard it. I wanted more. I didn't want to wait until tomorrow. The more I get, the more I want...always.
I'm like those old Goofy cartoons about driving when Goofy, or a creature like goofy, got behind the wheel and would be overcome with road rage. His expression, posture, and attitude changed. The Goofy character actually took on a demonic appearance. I know that the old videos were a cautionary, "how not to drive" lesson, and they were great.
I need to make a video about being in the grip of a money-loving, greed binge episode.
I can only imagine how a big time drug dealer feels with thousands of dollars in front of him/her or a slutty exotic dancer at the end of the night rolling in dough. I envy them, I envy their greed. I'm green with envy over their green.
I think I might have a problem.
p.s. The picture is from a line of books I absolutely loved when I was younger. I had several.

On the Mend and Loving it.

2008-07-09T14:29:00.000-07:00

I took a shower today with two grocery bags tied tightly around my left ankle. Which, by the way, makes like a vegetable oil-slicked sled on the bathtub bottom. I nearly slipped and split something else open.
Oh, yes. Why am I showering with a grocery bag on my foot? Because I split my toe open in a bike wreck and I refuse to take anymore baths with my left foot hung over the edge like a floppy dead seal! A coworker suggested the grocery bag technique. It worked quite well. Just a tiny puddle of water seeped into the tied bag. My foot was safe from infection, losing the bandages, and amputation.
As I dried and carried on with my morning routine, I felt increasingly distraught. But why? I showered standing up. I should feel whole again. No.
This limping around, not popping my toes, effing flip flops thing has finally fried me. I want you mended toe now!
On top of the waddling and the scooting sandal crap the newspaper is finally deterring me from opening it. If I read one more bit about the economy in the crapper, my town's declining resources, or our administration b effing us I'm going to take the showering grocery bag and wrap it tightly around my head until I hear nothing but the calm of my heart slowly stopping.
And to think...today started like any other normal day.

Just a Bike Wreck

2008-07-07T10:53:00.000-07:00

I know that it is cliche to refer to your life as a train wreck. So, I will not.

I will instead refer to my life as a bicycle wreck, which coincidentally, I just happened to have on Saturday night.

I'm riding with flip flops on like an idiot, and lose my footing. My left foot shoots like a meat rocket onto the sidewalk. I think my big toe bone acts as a wedge, if you will, and splits the end of my toe open upon impact.

So, I am sitting on my bike looking down at a throbbing, split open toe that's gushing blood. I am a block from my house. I have no choice but to pedal back and leave a blood trail home. Best part; I don't have health insurance. I sit in my living room with said busted toe, contemplating how much a trip to the ER would cost me "out of pocket," or as they say in the health care biz, "self-pay."

I call home to the parents.

I explain the booboo. My Dad asks several questions to evaluate the severity of the wound. Questions like, "How big is the gash? Are you spurting or dripping blood?" Needing medical attention is definitely in order. After my Dad curses me a few times for not having health insurance, we decide Convenient Care is a wiser financial risk.

I go, pay 120 bones, and get out with sticker-like tape holding me together. Now I must limp, keep it dry, and not wear shoes for about four days.

God, there's just something about opening the gash up right after I did it, and looking at my flesh resembling hamburger meat. I felt so inhuman.

So maybe me being a whiny, pansy, baby today is a way of taking back my humanity from the stinking bike wreck of my life.

I haven't ruled out karma or plain dumb luck, yet.

"Meat" your Maker...Market

2008-06-30T10:46:00.000-07:00

I live in Owensboro.

That should be enough of an explanation for anything I write or say.

Today it is not enough.

I have written about, Bacchus, a bar in town a couple of times before, so it's only fair that I write about another "B" name bar--the Boiler Room.

I will be renaming it, today.

Meat Market.

I know you're probably saying, "Yeah, yeah, so what? Every bar is a meat market."

Okay, so if it is, disregard this blog and get back to your People magazine, and let me get on with it.

I was fortunate enough to attend the Meat Market Saturday night. And the sales were hot. All the cuts were there in herds. Tenderloins, sirloins, T-bones, chucks, rumps, and all! It was so tough making up my mind.

I wonder what cut I would compare to? There were fresh calves for veal, old hag cows for what I don't know, and there were the prize cows, real blue ribbon beauties.

Either entrance to the Meat Market resembles a death chute at a slaughterhouse. You are herded in and paraded in front of all the other grades. It's actually quite terrifying. There's booze and mediocre music, which I guess is there to pacify us before the slaughter. Occasionally, two bulls will get over stimulated and have to lock horns to show off in front of the females and other bulls.
I guess the only difference is that this is not a "by the pound" going rate. It's the exact opposite. The skinnier the better. The emaciated cow sells here. The emaciated cow with great milk bearing teats, that is.
God, I want a steak right now.

Power Lines. All cliches aside--this dream was whack.

2008-06-28T08:44:00.001-07:00

I'm not the type of person that is going to blog about my dreams all the time.

But dammit if this one didn't get me in the thinkin' spot.

It's day time and I'm at my house and my ex wife shows up. She's saying something about lunch. I'm thinking, okay, what's for lunch?

Then she tells me her ex before me might drop by. A truck pulls up outside so we go out, but it's some maintenance guy from my work with a copy of some test he brought me that I had taken. I said, "Thank you."

He said, "It's getting dark."

I looked around and noticed it was dark. Then a car pulled up in the backyard of neighbors house. Sure enough my exes ex was in it. He had a little girl with him. They came into my yard. I said, "I said are we going to have to fight this out until someone dies?"

He said, "No. But she makes you love her, don't she?"

I said, "You bet."

While we were talking the girl with him had managed to throw her belt up in the power lines that weaved through an oak tree. Everyone was looking at me to do something. I proceeded through a chair up at the lines to dislodge the belt. It started to rain. Each time I chucked this chair in the air harder, the power lines connected to my neighbor's house shook violently.

I dislodged the belt with one final heave that knock the lines loose on my neighbor's house. The lines sparked and caught fire. So, in the rain I hopped the fence and filled buckets of rainwater from the ground to put out the fires while everyone watched.

I extinguished the fire and went back to my yard. I said to my ex, "He's drunk, and driving his kid around."

She said, "I know, and that's not his kid."

I woke shortly after and my whole body was sore like I had swam the Ohio.

Yeah, just a dream, but it means so much.

I'm sorry I couldn't spare you of the cliche symbols of fire and rain.

Balance and the Night

2008-06-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

This weekend I discovered the true cyclical nature of our existence.

I'm sure that in the fashion world there is a term for when a trend hits, goes out of style, and then comes back in style.

In a similar relationship, I have realized that a simple invention, that was rendered obsolete, is now back, and I was using it last night.

Since gas is grossly overpriced, I now bike just about everywhere. Biking saves money, the planet, and it's exercise!

I rode my bike to the grocery last night and stuffed as many groceries as I could in my backpack. Again, save the planet. Unfortunately, I could not place all of my groceries into my backpack. I had to use a few plastic bags.

So, I'm on my bike, where do I put them?

I hang them on my handle bars, test the weight, and take off for home. As I rode home, I recognized the similarity of my handle bars and bags to the baskets and balance system you might see a villager using in a Central/Southeast Asia.

It is a perfect invention. And, in someway, me riding a bike and using a primitive, but effective invention, was kind of like giving oil companies and conglomerates the middle finger.

I was not spewing noxious fumes. I was not wasting any resources. There was me, the Earth, and two simple, man powered machines. I was perfectly at balance with the night, the day, and my conscious.

I was almost hit by an SUV, which made the experience perfect.

Seconds, Only Milliseconds

2008-06-21T10:29:00.001-07:00

A few miles off a South African coast, which is heavily vacationed, is a phenomenon that takes place a few weeks out of the year.

An island that is home to thousands of seals become the site of a brutal exercise of nature's perfect killing machine...the great white shark.

Photo journalists, documentarians, and tourists flock to this area at this given time to witness the awesome power of predator/prey in the raw.

What makes the spectacle all the more astounding is the fashion in which the great whites rocket out of the water as if shot from a canon from the deep. This death plunge is the initial hit that typically stuns the seal. And rightly so. Seeing a 16 foot torpedo with razor sharp, serrated teeth flying through the air almost makes me piss myself.

The difficulty with filming the event is that the attacks last only seconds, and that's a long attack. Most will last milliseconds. So, a super slow speed camera is used. The super slow camera takes only one shot at a time and takes 15 minutes to download. So, if you blow the shot, you have 15 minutes to wait, and probably miss many other shots.

I heard on e cameraman say, "You know, it's seconds, really milliseconds that we have to catch this. And that's only if we are staring in the right direction."

My God! Is that not the most perfect explanation of life...ever!?

So much depends on those seconds, those milliseconds, and only if you're life is headed in the right direction.

Think about how many times you've nearly been involved in a fatal wreck, or ran into the love of your life, or maybe even just missed that movie at the store that someone snatched up right before you.

Yeah, it's tough looking at life in those terms, but I guess it's true. One could get hung up on that sort of thing if they had a tendency to obsess.

For now I'll just thank God that I am not a seal off the coast of South Africa, or any coast for that matter. And, I won't let time's precise manner bother me.

Punching Bob Dylan in the Face

2008-06-20T06:34:00.000-07:00

There's no reason to get excited...

This is not a blog about literally punching Bob in the face.

No, this a blog about people covering poor Dylan's songs and just destroying them. I know there are some people out there that can do a cover justice...Scarlett Johanis...burg....but, there was certainly none of the homage covering going on last night.

First of all, don't go to an open mic night and introduce yourself and ask, "does anyone wanna hear some Dylan?"

No, asshole. We don't. We wanna hear Dylan play Dylan. We especially don't want to hear you sing in his voice either. And what the hell kind of song is there of his that last 20 minutes and sounds like one continuous verse? Seriously, does anyone know that one? Would this guy make this up? This is also the same guy that I heard sing a "children's" song like Bob Dylan about a monkey, frog, and a snake, or some shit.

Then, his friend gets up after him and plays a lame cover. His second song, "Hit me baby, one more time" was funny; I'll give him that. But his buddy, the Dylan ripper, sat there watching and listening like the Rodan sculpture. I could just hear his thoughts, Oh, wow. Brittany Spears, it's so smart. It's so inventive. So fresh.

So, the main idea I want you to leave with is; don't cover the shit if you just can't do it. Cover something you know. Cover something you can make your own. Cover something that will actually entertain people. Don't befoul yourself and Dylan, which is the equivalent of a punch in the face of a generation. And don't write blogs when you're hung over and just trying to keep your eyes open.

Last Day, First Day, and Magic Time

2008-06-18T06:56:00.000-07:00

The longest day of the year is typically around June 21st, the summer solstice. I distinctly remember this day last year. It was when I noticed the beauty of a phenomenon my mother and her friends call 'magic time.' It's that time of day when dusk is just beginning to say goodbye to you and hello to the night.

Everything, more specifically organic, takes on a temporary bio-luminescent glow. Even your skin, which you think you are familiar with, takes on an eerie glow. I'm pretty sure the event has to do with the spectrum of light and your pupils dilating. And even if it can be explained, that still won't take away from the wonder it arouses in me.

I was in my parents friends' garden that is a stunning ornamental sight on it's own, but with the magic time element, the view is simply irreplaceable. At that moment time stood still. My life was all there in front of me in the reflection of the last few ultraviolet rays radiating from the sun to flower, and through me.

Staring there I realized the cycle of it all. This was the pivotal moment when the day gives way to night. Summer gives way to the fall, and life gives way to death.

Every moment from now on will just be a count down to the time we all dread the most. The time of year when the sun clocks out early and goes dark by 5 P.M.(Central.)

The time when possibilities are not endless anymore, you no longer have extra time to do work in the yard, and you expect that first morning chill. I know it will be ungodly hot until September and probably even until October, but just knowing that the day will already be shortening in a week is just too much today.

I see magic time already, and two days ago I happened to notice it, which reminded me of the solstice. I realize i get hung up on the finite nature of things when I should be seeing them cyclically. So, I guess today I'm trying to see the infinite, rather than the finite.

Sea of Tranquility

2008-06-17T07:06:00.001-07:00

"Well I'd like to visit the moon...but I wouldn't like to live there..."

There is a special reason I have been listening to this song so much. I am now learning to play it, as well. It's for a friend. But, I've passed the point of learning it. I'm obsessing over it, listening to it over ten times in one day.

But there is a greater reason. I now know that when I get on track with a song, movie, or television show it's always for a reason.

I had a friend call last night who was down in the dumps. And don't we all from time to time? See, us normal people, who don't self-medicate, actually feel sadness, depression, and anxiety on a regular basis. What do you do when you're really feeling the sting? You call a friend. It's much better than going out and transforming into a drunken, belligerent asshole who runs everyone off and then ends up crying alone at the end of the night. Call a friend!

I was able to use my necessary obsession with the above mentioned song to help my friend out. The song is about staring out of your window at the moon and wanting to visit there. It's a very sweet song about wanting to get away from the moment and do something new. It's that old cliche about the grass always being greener, aside from the fact that there is no grass on the moon(it's just an expression.)

The point is, even if you are a felt, cotton, and polyester puppet, you're still going to want out temporarily--even if it's on the moon. I hear it's quite nice and peaceful, especially the sea of tranquility.

Bachelor Brunch

2008-06-16T06:25:00.001-07:00

I definitely had a "40 Year Old Virgin" moment this weekend...and it's not depressing in the least.

Instead of staying up late, drinking too much, and abusing my body this weekend, I took care of myself.

After my second job I picked up some fast food, went home to binge, and fell asleep watching a documentary.

I woke up Saturday without an alarm. It was fantastic. I arose, slowly. I fixed coffee and whole wheat toast (standard), and played on the computer for awhile. I worked out, ran errands, and came home for lunch.

This is where it gets all "40 year old virginy." I made some soup and a sandwich. But not just a lunch. It was the perfect lunch. Perfectly prepared soup, and perfectly toasted bread cut into triangles, people!

I looked down at my perfectly centered plate with napkin and icy drink and could not get away from the vision of Steve Carrell in "40 Year Old Virgin" where he makes the perfect breakfast. I did not walk around all morning with a boner like he does during the opening of the movie. Oh, and I didn't play with action figures...this weekend.

I think my point is that I noticed, for the first time in awhile, I was comfortable with me and just me. Yes, the house is empty. Yes, I am alone, but this weekend I was just fine with it. My Catherine Keener is out there somewhere, so I won't rush it. I just hope that doing yard work, working out, and perfectly crafted lunches will tie me over until I do.

The Aud Fraternity

2008-06-12T06:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, today, I am a man. Not in the sense that...wait. What does it mean to be a man? A mustache? A ponchie stomach? A respectable Roth IRA or investment portfolio?

No.

I know exactly what it means now.

My Father's birthday was May 26th and Father's Day is this weekend. So, my Dad, two brothers, and I went out for a male bonding extravaganza to celebrate both occasions.

There was beer drinking, darts, pool playing, steak eating, and talk about women and a little sports(not so much by me.)

It was, in most typical definitions, a "manly" night. But, there was a side of tenderness that probably went undetected by most bystanders.

There was a sense of unity and companionship that had not necessarily existed before. The "guys" had never been out before, so we had a toast to acknowledge that and a few other things with out first of many pitchers. I remember my Dad and brothers saying numerous times, "God, this is great. I'm really having fun. We should do this annually." I agreed. Imagine that, four men, never having a night out when they can get together and talk. it was a monumental night.

It was, and I will probably regret saying this later, reminiscent of a "Sex in the City" brunch. There was "men talk" centered around food and drink.

I also would like to add that us three brothers took our turns on the machine that measures your punching power. My younger brother copped the high score, it's funny if you compare his stature to my brother's and mine. But, it was fun none-the-less.

After dinner at a steakhouse, go figure, we ended back at my parent's house. But, before we went inside there was a "man hug." All four of us grouped together saying we love each other and stubble all over the place. My younger brother happened to suggest it. Good idea. It was a very tender moment.

We ended the hug saying we would do it again, and we will. The Aud boys had their night out in the name of their father, and it was grand.

The Electronic Glow and Us

2008-06-11T07:14:00.001-07:00

It's Tuesday night around 8 P.M., on the cusp of prime-time television watching. I'm on my bike riding around the neighborhood formulating a poem about childhood and such.

I'm not telling you this to be pretentious. I'm not saying I'm any better than the people glued to their television sets. I love them. I love that their wood doors are open and just a slab of glass or Plexiglas is all that separates me from them and their living room. What's on? What are we watching tonight? God, I'm full. I ate way too much pot roast. Way to go, Mom. That's what I would say if they could hear me. But they can't. They don't even notice me.

Of course not everyone is watching television. Some are reading on their couches or in their favorite chairs. Some people are watching me from their patios and porches. It's a beautiful night. The humid weather broke and the temperature dropped about ten degrees. There are men tinkering in their garages with the doors open and classic rock or country is trickling out under bravado and engine talk.

And there's happy little me riding by, soaking it all in. I think summer is my time. Most people have about three options of which their whole year revolves around. Some peoples' years revolve around a birthday(his/hers, wives, parents), then there's the Christmas people, lastly is summer. I'm beginning to think that my year revolves around summer. Time slows down. I;m not afraid to say, "I think I'll just take my time mowing the lawn or walking to the library."

It's the unification of summer that gets me. Every one's doing "it" together. Summer is the time when you barbecue with the family, you work on the yard as a family, or you watch television as a family.

Bike around the streets of Owensboro during prime time in the summer when the sunlight is just about to say goodnight and you see it at every door.

I, warrior PENGUIN

2008-06-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

I had a very relaxing day after work. Not one bit of exercise for me, which is unusual. I came home, watered the plants, and relaxed until having dinner with a friend of mine. It was calming to talk to her about all my worries concerning the MFA submission I have been putting off. I know that applying to a program does not mean you are committing, but it certainly is significant enough to make me worry. She applied for the same program and has not gone yet, so that makes me feel a little better. She has the experience and the inexperience to view both sides of the spectrum.

Another concern I'm having is about the essay that I must submit. I have to identify two of my favorite poets, critique them, and then explain why they are so influential on my writing. Guess what? I really don't have two! Does that make me a horrible writer? Probably. Great. There go all my hopes and dreams as a literary lover.

After dinner I plopped on the couch for a couple of discs from the "Blue Planet" series. That series is amazing. I watched the "Coastal" and "Tidal" portions of the series last night. There is something so calming about watching the cascading light on coral reefs and marine life "soaring" through the water.

I was disturbed by the poor penguins that can't fly and were just picked off by disgustingly fat elephant seals at the water's edge. The waters of the Antarctic are icy and deadly. It's terrifying thinking that hiding under a crashing, nearly frozen wave is a pair of giant tusks waiting to take to out to the water and skin you before devouring you. I'm not going to get all "March of the Penguins" on you, it's just that these penguins have to put up with an awful lot. Today, I'm giving it up to all the penguins that have to face the elephant seals of the world.

weekend wars

2008-06-09T06:33:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry if you thought by the title, this was going to be about that really neat MGMT song. It's not.

It's about the idiotic execution of merriment that landed me in hell---all of Saturday.

I stayed up way too late on Friday night after fifteen hours of work. Instead of going to bed, what do I do? I go out and booze it like a prohibition bender hankering for a gin blossom. The thought of even smelling alcohol is making me gag...and today is Monday!

Although I am miserable, as usual in the office, I am much happier now than Saturday.

I woke from about five hours of sleep dehydrated--strike one. I brewed a pot of coffee and wasted it--strike two. I only ate a stale bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch before my 2 o'clock shift--strike three. I didn't shave, so I was reprimanded along with three other guys at work--strike four. I had a killer headache all night--strike five. My stomach was eating itself and making terribly nauseous--strike six. A friend came in to see me at work and sit in my section after I was cut and I was too hung over to hang out after work--strike seven and eight.

There's probably more, but since I suffered brain damage, I can't remember anymore.

Why again do people do this to themselves...? Thank God I'm a grown up and I don't do that anymore...

Bacchus bedlam

2008-06-06T06:13:00.000-07:00

I'm not negative.

I will not use my blog as a soap box or a formal bitching forum.

I'm simply giving the reader(s) an account of my life.

Last night, among many other activities, I met some friends at Bacchus. Bacchus is a bar downtown(that term is used loosely) that on the surface seems like a great place to go. The name alone suggests great wine, merriment, and the occasional orgy, all but one actually do occur.

The friends and I have decided Thursday night to be the best night to go since the bar is not full of drunken idiots(just us), and Thursday is open mic night. The open mic host, Allen, has long hair, a small jolly gut, plays guitar when no one else will play, and is quite merry. I guess you could say if there is a Bacchus there, it's him. Or at least a representation of him. Allen definitely portrays Bacchus in a much more flattering light than the crudely painted monstrosity hanging to the right of the bar.

So, last night I was able to hear the usual butchered Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, Sublime, Talking Heads, and any other readily covered song with minimal chords and horrible singing. Luckily, I did not hear any Dave Mathews or Jack Johnson. I was able to hear two of my friends play open mic and there was actually some variety in the performances. I should be happy? I had the opportunity to hang out with friends, have an ale or two, and a laugh, so I should be happy? No.

We have decided to liven up the open mic night a little bit. Next week it's on.
We are planning to do an acapella---barber shop quartet style, maybe I'll play a song, and read a poem with psychedelic music playing behind me. It's at least something we were talking over. I'm just saying that Bacchus needs some lived blown back into him or else he's going to die from boredom exhaustion.

Bonnaroo brainfart

2008-06-04T07:15:00.000-07:00

I know this is going to sound weasely of me, but Bonnaroo, I don't think I will make my annual trip to see you.

I have been to Manchester evey year since Bonnaroo's inception, and this is the first year that it's not looking good for our relationship.

Please, don't say that I'm not tempted by My Morning Jacket, MGMT, The Raconteurs, Rilo Kiley, De Novo Dahl, Vampire Weekend, and Les Claypool. Of course I want to see others as well. And I do want to brave the heat, stink, and Bonnarehea. I would miss the slight burning sensation of my skin all day and the constant grit of dirt in my mouth. It's definitely worth it.

The only problem is money. I need money, so I work a second job. But I would have to ask off from this second job to go. Is that contradictory?

I don't even care if I go alone. I would do it. That way I could go to any show at any time and not worry about who else wants to go where. Does that make me antisocial? Does that make me like a hermit? A dirty, sweaty, Bonnaroo hermit? I just want to jam! I want to dance, and I want to feel free; feel free for a weekend. Every second of my life is taken up by something else already.

Maybe I'm convincing myself to go...

latitude and longitude

2008-06-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

I found it. I found the exact position of happiness today, on planet Earth and it just happened to be Owensboro at the very moment I arrived there.
Let me back up. The day started gray and threatening rain all morning. Everyone at work asked each person walking in if it was raining yet. When I left my dungeon, to my surprise, it was sunny, warm, and the wind was blowing enough to completely muss your hair. Perfect.
I raced home in the car, ate the top of a blueberry muffin, and my ass hit the gel-cushion seat of my bike. I started in the direction of the Greenbelt, a paved path through Owensboro. After a brief time on the trail I realized today was one of those days that I did not need a given path. I was following some other sense. I found myself going out Carter Road, which has a steady incline that peaks at the overpass. I was tired so I stopped. And there it was. It was maybe 6 P.M. at the sun was burning it's way home for bed. On either side of me were countless cars speeding at approximately 70 mph. The wind was vortexing me. My hair blew across my scalp in all directions. This warmth overwhelmed me. It was like when you open an oven and the heat hits your face. This heat was just the right temperature, though. The clouds were spread across the sky like pulled cotton. My shirt was unbuttoned and the breeze sneaked in and cooled the sweat across my back. I was exactly where I was supposed to be at that moment. I sat there on my bike thanking someone. I biked for another half an hour, but nothing close to the feeling of being at the latitude and longitude of a perfect day.

not so "case of the mondays"

2008-06-02T12:40:00.000-07:00

I have reported that my chronic depression has only been afflicting me on Mondays--not so. Today is Monday, and although I hate it, today I'm alright. I wrote a mean ass poem. I think that outlet helps. Crosswords definitely help me through the day, and a viking writer's blogs. There's more.
I bought a bike this weekend for three reasons: to save money, exercise, and to save the planet. Okay, the last one maybe not as much as the other two. I take that back. Of course it's for the planet. I recycle. I use compact bulbs. I minimize all trash output. I love the Earth. And I make it prettier. Yeah, Earth, I'm a pretty good boyfriend...aren't I? Earth and I have been dating for sometime now. It's not serious, though.
So, I can make it through Monday and I've got a relationship with Mother Earth, I guess you could say I'm in an okay mood today (which isn't the best for my writing.) But I'll take it.

day break--not what you think

2008-05-29T08:14:00.000-07:00

I have recently discovered that my work week is nothing but an accumulation of extra time. I start my week thinking, how much time can i build up to leave early? Is that healthy? Is that my unconscious telling my conscious it's time for a change already? Could I ask myself more questions in this blog?
I did some landscaping yesterday, on a very small scale. I realized while doing it that the pleasure I get is from seeing the extension of myself. The extension is also for the neighbors to see. So, really, landscaping is all about showing off. Yes, it's very green of me to add flowers and shrubbery, but really it's selfish. That's why men get so hung up on having that perfect yard. The perfect yard must reflect the person who created it, right?
My patch of land is not perfect. I have bare spots in the grass. Does that mean I'm balding?
I'm building up time just so that I can leave early to do yard work on Friday. I'm giving myself a break to rake and any other garden work. It's just not making sense.

memorial day madness--not quite

2008-05-27T06:17:00.000-07:00

It's Tuesday and I'm back in the office. This weekend was great due to my company, but shitty due to the weekend. I was happy to make half the money I normally make this weekend. So, what did I miss out on while I was working? Evidently there was a parade downtown, a drunken gut-busting barbecue, and boating. I probably would have taken part in all those festivities if I had not had so much fun slinging salsa and sour cream all weekend. Boo hoo.
I did learn that my capacity for chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies is six in one day. Anymore than that and i will throw up. Yeah...life is about finding your boundaries and going past them.

feeling overly sentimental

2008-05-21T20:25:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at the computer listening to Old Crow Medicine Show sing "We're all in this thing together" with the smell of a slightly burnt, frozen pizza in my nose thinking I feel your song, but I sure ain't living it.
Why is it that all my depressing thoughts come to me in the form of a country/western song? Do I have a doppelganger somewhere writing out these very words as I speak them? Maybe it's God's way of telling me to write country music songs for a living. Maybe I will start, and the first title will be "I'm hearing your song, but I sure ain't living it."
Eh, I'd rather be doing this than vegging on the couch watching Letterman. Life is grand.

Finally, me to you!

2008-05-20T20:36:00.000-07:00

For anyone who will read this; this is my first blog ever! I'm as excited as when I got a Super Nintendo for Christmas one year.
I must conform to punctuation and grammar rules for this blog. That sucks, but it will make it easier for us all.
I thought I could just do an introductory blog for the first one.
So here goes:
I am 26 and a college grad. I work for a mental health agency and serve at a southwestern restaurant. I have been writing essays and mostly poetry for the past two years trying to find the writer somewhere inside me. I hope this will help. I know what you're thinking; life is grand. Not quite.
I, as of today, diagnosed myself with being chronically depressed on Mondays only. Oh, and I live in Owensboro, Kentucky's third largest city. Or as I like to refer to it as the one of Cinderella's sisters that didn't make it in the story. Not evil, but no beauty either. I'll explain the rest in my next thousand blogs.