SushiPhobic

There are some amazing things out there that brightens the human spirit and ignores the fears of mankind's eventual evolution into beings of great worth...


I just didn't know that eating raw fish and seaweed compressed into rice balls was the arena in which we would prove ourselves. Yes, people, I actually ate sushi. I ate things normally picked out of ones swimsuits butt at the beach.


Christine always promised, nay, crusaded, that I must experience going to a sushi bar and enjoying the experience that is, sushi. I never had a reason to try anything that exotic before, and when I've been with her in the past, I'd be a big puss and eat such Japanese traditional favorites such as pumpkin pie and watermelon. That's the equivalent of going to a fine french cuisine and asking for the A1 sauce and a plate of frank n' beans. Godammn ugly American!

But This time, I promised her, promised, that I will actually eat sushi. With all the crap that's been happening to me, I thought it was way way too silly to fear these colorful flavor packets. I this was going to be the beginning of a crusade to abolish stupid fears and annoyances.

I had heard about the dollar a plate sushi night on Halloween at work. And this was right after I had walked into a cloud of flatulence that my co-worker, Stewart had thought he had stealthily released into the workspace. Not so ninja, and when I hit it, I reared up like a horse that was spooked by a snake.

But I digress. For those of you that has never walked into a Sushi Bar, it goes like this: It's a small small area with stools near this countertop with a conveyor belt of sorts, separating you from some surly guys making these artistic dishes. The conveyor belt rotates around the bar caring various plates of comestibles. The color of the plate determines how much the item will cost. When you're full, or sick, you motion an asian lady over who will count up your plates and give you a check.

You also have to master the chopsticks. Even though forks also rotate once in a blue moon, I hear if you grab one, a Ronin will jump out from behind a curtain you thought was the bathrooms, and disembowel you to the cheers of the customers. May not be true, but just try the chopsticks in case.

But jeez, a dollar a plate is a great deal. So much so, when Letty, Christine, Nikki, Greg, Jordan, and I, arrived, we had to wait standing about for over an hour. If you know Christine like I do, You never never never ever, evernever, deny her food when she's hungry. If she were a raccoon in a bear trap, she'd gnaw off her own leg for some sushi. She was about to start screaming at customers that they are already fat bitches and need to vacate, when we were mercifully sat down.

I sat between Nikki and Christine. I was told Nikki is the expert, and would treat my virgin palate like a gentle lover. Well, I was sort of told that.

And she did. She's gesture at a sushi roll and say things like, "you can start with that." or "that's fish, you wont want to do that yet". Christine took brilliant care of me and told me to just trust her, open my mouth, and eat...this. Don't nibble, just eat, chew, and swallow. Don't try to identify, or comprehend, just enjoy. Without hesitation, I took the roll and ate it.

And, it wasn't bad at all.

In fact, it was interesting to taste the textures and not know exactly what I was eating. I've never ate anything before without knowing what it would probably taste like. I ate this without any preconception. And it was quite liberating!

I tried another. And a spicier one! And a bolder one! And something that looked like old fried popcorn chicken ruminates. As it turned out, it was calamari...A squidy thingy. I ate fish! That is truly one of the sighs of End of Days!

As I ate it, all I thought was poor Admiral Akbar on the rebel star cruiser screaming, "It's a trap!!!", as Darth Vader breaded and deep fried his sorry ass. I was having culinary fun!

I use to be SushiPhobic, But I so enjoyed the experience with my friends, that I suggested that we so needed to do this again. Even Christine was proud of me, as I was.

So kids, let that be a lesson for all of you. Never walk by a gassy co-worker with your mouth open, and fear of the unknown isn't a real fear at all.

Happy Halloween folks, and try the Akbar, he's delicious.

Book of Regrets

Life is supposed to be funny, happy, easy, and safe.

Most of the times, is scary and sad. A crazy place where it seems all you do is hurt people.

I guess it's like that so when the safe times come, we appreciate it more. Or is it simply the worm on the hook: being that chicken on a skillet, ready to dance for someone Else's entertainment. I don't honestly know... But I do know this.

I know of a girl who's heart is braking. And there is nothing I can do.

I can't give any advice, because I truly don't have any answers. The variables make sense, and they all spell salvation or doom. And anyway you look at it, someone will end up broken and shattered.

I know this girl with a unique (or maybe not...) problem: She loves two guys, and she must choose one. The longer she can't decide, pains her so much, it makes me cry for her. She's dying inside, and whatever she chooses, someone looses.

Does she go with her older boyfriend: who is sweet and comforting, and has been loyal and safe. He's open emotionally, almost to an annoyingly fault. The one who gives her feelings of relevance, and importance. Who's love is so strong, it scares her at times. Or, does she brake up with him for the old flame that rolled back into her world. He one true love or her life that she always missed. He's the brash arrogant one, who hides his emotions and keeps her faults checked and humbled? He's exciting and vibrant, and doesn't scare her with talk of passion and love.

One represents order, the other controlled chaos. One quiet peace, the other, lusty conflict. Yin and Yang...

She says she needs to see about the "what ifs". What if she can get back together with this flame? Sacrifice the "what is", for a gamble that he may love her back with the same quiet intensity that her old boyfriend does...

But, I've found that Life is a series of "what ifs". It's a book of regrets. Every decision you make creates a pick-a-path of immense complications. You need to learn that you can't chase every what if, and live a life worth living. Your unchosen paths are like a burning wake that must be left behind, so you can go further...

I understand she's afraid that her relationship with her cast off boyfriend may take away her younger years, him being such older, it'll make her need to accept responsibilities and grow up. Perhaps faster than she should, destroying a childhood that will never happen. perhaps he'll die long before she will, leaving a wife and child to raise a family fatherless. Perhaps he'll never change, as she grows and evolves. Perhaps she's not ready to think about a future.

I understand she's afraid of the old flame, giving up her guaranteed love for a chance that he may profess his, someday. But she'll have the luxury of not growing up, and having to take on the world of ugly adult responsibilities. She would be able to hide any feelings and emotions and not be called out or questioned. What if she's just temporary in his mind? What if he too, never grows beyond the partying ways and pot smoking glory days of being "cool"? What if he can't tell her he loves her, or even commit to her as she would for him? But, with him, there's no thought of any future beyond the now?

She's afraid of the wrong choice, which cannot be recovered from.

Who do you chose? Who do you stab in the heart

Whoever she chooses, will create a regret she'll never crawl away from. She's torn and crying over it. She's angry and looking for a way out of a no win scenario. She's slathered with guilt that can never wash off, because she wanted it all...and that's not possible...

That's not life.

And she doesn't realize that her book of regrets, adds more chapters.

I wish I could say the right thing, and make it go away, but I can't. It can't be ignored, and it can't be a happy ending.

Lost Lives and Funnybook Lessons

Oh Jesus, were do I start?

How do I explain me virtually disappearing for months? What happened to me? How did I get here and what have I become? Honestly, I'm still figuring that out...

I know whats it's like to have everything taken from you, and left to die. To have someone you thought you can trust do anything to destroy you. Even if it were to decimate themselves, after all, they can blame you for that too.

I won't get into too much detail here. I'm tired of having these thoughts bouncing about my skull, and I don't want to get into a "pity-party"...even though I think if anyone deserves one, this is a great time to work that up, and bring depressing party hats with a stale cake and a sad drunken clown who's wife just left him and can only make balloon animals like a snake, a stick, and a deformed legless dog.

In one day...I got set up an fired from my job. My bank account and savings was emptied. My friends were threatened to never talk to me again. I came home to an apartment with absolutely no furniture and almost no personal affects intact. And, my cat, Indiana, was taken away. I had the money in my wallet, the clothes on my back, and my car. And, all of this was caused by me.

I put all my trust into the perfectly wrong person.

What does one do? When you have nothing, you give up hope, some people say. And I'm sure the whole evil mastermind plan was to see me hurt so much, that I would want to die. Pictures ripped up that could never be replaced. Things I worked hard to make or do, shattered to oblivion. Bits of my life, burned and raped, just for someones perverted pleasure. even my Rickenbacker, was bashed apart with a hammer and left behind as a token of how stupid I am.

What does one do. I sat in my car in the dark and wondered what do I do. Where do I start. I can't afford food, gas, rent, clothes, anything. I'd be so easy to just...give up. -They won. well played.

I sat there and glanced over to see if I had a coat in the back seat, as it was going to be a cool night. In the back of my car was a book. Before you think I'm going to say I "found religion", it was a comic book. In the story, the hero Daredevil, a successful lawyer by day, has his identity given to his arch enemy, the Kingpin. And the Kingpin knows that it's easy to murder his hated foe, but it also lets him off the hook way too quickly...he wants Daredevil to suffer.

The Kingpin uses his influence to frame Daredevil. His accounts were frozen, he lost his house, he was fired from his job, no one believed him, and he lost everything. reduced to stumbling around back alleys and sleeping on the street. You see, to totally destroy someone, you need to take everything away from him, then when he has nothing, you be merciful and end it for him.

The Kingpin made Daredevil lose all hope. Then he saw his greatest mistake: A man without hope, is a man without fear.

Daredevil realized that he really lost nothing. He has himself, and he'll be damned if anyone will take that away. He fought back, if only to show that he is still alive, and he triumphed. Nothing mattered but who he was inside.

And I'll be damned if I let myself give up.

Within weeks I work my tail off. I got a job. I got a place. I got people who cared about me and also didn't have any fear. I didn't let myself drown in worthlessness (but god, that was hard...). Because, that was the best way show everyone that I really lost nothing...because you can't change me. You can't crush me. All you can do is be blinded by my brilliance of resolve. All you can do is be envious.

For that entire stressful month and a half, I've had this horrible chest pain and cough. Sometimes even coughing up blood. I found out that I have a problem with my thymus in my chest. I know what that might mean. And, I know in the past I would have cried, "why me?" But I don't, and I smile more now. Why? If anything all this has done, is show I can beat anything.

I sit in my new apartment, typing on the Internet before I have to go to work, and I know people love me. I had people who took me in their homes, and gave me their love and understanding.

I really lost nothing. I actually gained a few things. And I have no fear.

Artbox Pheramones

After the fantastic hug, she smiled at me and said, "...you smell nice..."

"Thank you.", I said as I returned the smile, genuinely touched.

"You smell like crayons..."

I SMELL LIKE CRAYONS!?

Woah! Whiplash! Wha-huh? I smell like crayons?! How does someone just smell like crayons? I do a quick assessment of the various smells that could possibly emanate from me. I showered recently, I used a powder fresh deodorant/antiperspirant, and I light spray of Axe. Perhaps a fiant taint of that philly cheesestaek, and I remember asking for no onions. Either way, I don't remember melting Crayolas upon me at any time. How does one just acquire the scent of a child's art box?

The internet is great for two things: porn and information, in that order. Time to use the world wide web as it was intended for finally. A quick "google" of crayons and smell supplied me with an interesting, if not scary, connection... reference to Volkeswagen cars. specifically, New beetles.

Yes, it seems that, for some odd reason, the VW new Beetles have this unique aroma: melted crayons. Could be worse, I suppose. If I had to choose a smell from a car to have on me 24/7, I guess this is acceptible. I mean, I've smelled a hell of a lot worse from the public. Young teens who think that washing once a month is passable if you just throw on a hoodie and a slanted ball cap. Olds people who obviously need to rinse once in the while. I've smelled musky BO long before a person arrives, and lingers in a cloud long after they leave.

Have you even been in a geek-ville comic book/hobbie store? Anyone who has can atest to this: the potency and horror of pungent body odor intensifies off the young customers, the farther back you go in the store. With the kids in the from brousing the comic racks having a bathless fume, to the career minature wargame battle mat player regulars, who have never seen the wet side of a bar of soap, nor will never know the sweet caress of a woman...ever...

I've even survived an old guy while working retail that smelled like a sack of crap. Trying to choke back the gag reflex and bile, while listening to his questions. Subtily manuvoring myself downwind or near a vent, just to get a breath, as he was oblivious to the power of his stench. The power to demolish mountains: just by pooping your own pants.

I was ready to blame my job, and sue their collective asses that they've somehow changed my DNA. That they've replaced my blood with Rose Art wax sented chalk. I knew working with office supplies would somehow mutate me. Why couldn't I smell like a ream of paper, wipe board erasers, or even the toxic fumes of a sharpie? Now THATS a coolass power!

I guess crayons aren't so bad, huh? If I smelled like caca, I'm rather certain that I don't think I would have gotten that hug. And, really, its kind of a nice feeling that when you pass by a "back to school" display at any market or store...

perhaps, someone will think of me.

Pomp and Circuses

Today, a great and wonderful thing was bestowed upon me. Christine invited me to her Graduation ceremony.

Considering she only had five tickets, she gave the rest to family, and she had lots of friends, to actually ask me If I could attend, was really a special moment for me. She once said that I particularly liked her because of the "spark" she gives me. She may be right.

Jesus, graduations have changed since I've been to school. She had a live band playing a rather decent "Pomp and Circumstance", everyone got flowers, video presentations, and finally, a fireworks display. It was like a circus, but without the smell of horse urine and clowns. And, that's always a good thing!

When I arrived, many of us invitees had to actually park in a bus stop lot a few blocks away, then we had to board a school bus to be driven to the stadium. It's been years since I've been on the yellow bus, and for old times sake, i took the seat right on the wheel hub. Also, because I think I'm a bit more flexible than many of the oldsters on that bus. All i need is someone with a broken hip to detour my journey.

I've never seen so many people stuffed into a small arena since my Police concert way back when! I have a thing about crowded spaces, but I wanted to be there for Christine. 400 graduating students, all with 5 tickets each: that's about 2000 people in a sardine can. I was going to bring her a rose, but the odds that I'd actually be able to find her in this...

Wait a sec. we're talking me. The master of mistiming and missed opportunities. So, of course, we find each other almost immediately. I give her a warm hug, tell her she looks fantastic, and wish her well as I go to find my seat. And since I have a long wait till her name is called, I start to remember my own graduation.

I remember how I thought it might turn out. The hopes I had for the perfect ceremony just like they have in the movies. I was going to ask my friend Wendii out. I thought it would be the perfect time! I had such a crush on her, and i think she liked me. But this...this was the moment that I finally would have the balls to actually say something. After all, this would be my last chance, or I'd never see her again.

I remember how screwed up it actually was. MY band was playing horribly, so much so, they played the "pomp" song from a cassette over the PA. Minutes before the ceremony, one of my best friends ran over a girl trying park his car. And yes, this girl was one of the popular 4.0 point average girls. It didn't help that he, himself, was the school troublemaker, and all of us pull as many strings as possible to get him to graduate. That sends a nice pall over the "happy proceedings".

I remember holding the hat of someone as we waited for our names to be called to the stage. I was looking away as I was trying to see above all the sad faces in the crowd. And I just recalled that the 6'2" guy I was holding the hat for was actually the boyfriend of the girl that got ran over, just as i felt a slight tug on the hat. I start to hand the hat over, not looking back at him, and wondering why he's leaning more towards me but not grabbing back the hat. it's getting crushed.

As I look back towards him to ask him if he's okay, I see the whites of his eyes...only. And his six foot form falls up top on me like a cut down tree, right into the muddy ground. So far a not so special day for me.

But it is for Christine. I can't see her anymore, but the names are whittling down to hers. And frankly, I sit up in anticipation, as I'm so happy for her.

After getting my diploma, and scraping the mud off my gown I make my way to the gym to see Wendii. After the day I having, at least I'm not going to miss this part. I can be crushed in mud all day, If I can just ask her out. That's all I wanted from today, that's why I'm here. And I see her there, and she's just beautiful with her short auburn hair, just standing there with the sundown reflecting behind her. I make my way up and I'm smiling from ear to ear, and I'm just going to say it. "wendii, "I'll say, "I really like you a lot, and I wanted to know If you'd just go out with me."

But I don't say it. I see the grief on her face. The sadness. And I don't...say it.

Remember the guy who ran over that girl in the parking lot? He was my friend, and he was Wendiis friend too. He was the one who introduced us. And just what the hell am I supposed to say now? "Sorry about that John did out there. So, wanna go out?" "Gee, I wonder if Johns okay and the girl is stable now. But forget all that! Can I have your phone number?" "Considering how selfish and tasteless I am, do ya think you'd be hot for me?"

No. Instead we talk about him, and she excuses herself because now she's incredibly depressed. And my world diverges from there. The what could have been and what became of me. And I never saw her again.

Christina hits the stage, and she smiles so big, it's simply beautiful as she throws her arms up in the air in triumph. I scream her name, knowing she probably wont hear it, and make my hands sore just by clapping the loudest I can. Fireworks go off, and I'm not talking figuratively.

As I make my way out of this claustrophobic stadium, I seek her out, but can't find her. I wait where we met the first time, but no ones there. And, really, it's not for me to ruin her evening by having my stupid face hanging around. Tonight, is her night, and she needs to make all her times for her friends. Don't miss your opportunities. Of this, I know.

I spend about 21 minutes texting her a simple message. I don't want to disturb her.

"Thank you for letting me be a part of your memory...good night"

And I walk back to the bus station...

When I feel an unexpected vibration in my pocket.

The text says: "You're welcome..."

Michael: At Wits End (part 2)

(part two)

Christina's smile disappears.

Trailers. Why does it have to be trailers?

And yes, she feels obligated to say what is okay, what sucks, whats funny, and whats stupid. I laugh at one trailer, because it was funny, and I get a silent stare from her.

Thankfully, she's a little excited by the Die Hard one. Good. Buys me some time. As causally talking is out of the question, at least some peace can be earned. I'm hoping when Pirates rolls up, she'll be so grabbed by the spectacle, it'll turn the whole night around. She likes Johnny Depp. She liked the first one, and most of the second. She is fisting a brew as the movie starts. She's out with someone who'll try to not annoy her (that's me). It's supposed to be spectacular. I know it will be, even at 3 hours. The way I see it, if I'm entertained at all for the amount of time required...I had a great day! Pretty simple really.

Then I hear: "oh, GOD!!!! When is this movie going to stop being boring..."

And I hear the sound of the lid being slammed shut on my coffin.

"This is so slow!" "That's stupid!" "That so wouldn't work!" "That looks fake" "This is as boring as Spider-man 3!" "Pour me a beer!" "How long is this movie?" "The first one was better!"

At one point she turns to me and asked what did Will say to Elizabeth. "He said he couldn't live without her..." I whisper in her ear.

"Heh?!"

"He said...HE COULDN"T LIVE WITHOUT HER"

She looks at me then throws her hands up in disgust. "I hate this love story. It's just like Spider-man 3! That ruined it all!"

I sink back down into the cushions and pray for the film strip to actually brake. At the two hour mark, I whisper to her I'll be back. Bathroom.

Let me tell you, I didn't really have to go the the bathroom. I have the bladder of a Olympian God...A GOD I SAY! Three hours is nothing. But I needed an excuse to just...get away for a bit. Even during a movie I really really wanted to see. This is just not happening.

I'm in the men's room sitting in an empty stall, thinking. Just thinking. What the hell went wrong? What went wrong? Oh my god, it's like being on a date with your cranky grandmother. And I bury my head in my hands. I've been here, sitting, standing, pacing the tile floor for 10 minutes. Any more than this and I either stretch credibility, or Christine will assume I really have terrible pee problems. I'm ready to have her assume that, actually.

I leave the bathroom and grab my ticket to get back in the theater, almost hoping, almost, that I can't find it and they wont let me back in. I see the exit out of the Cinetopia. I see windowed doors beacon outside. I see freedom. I see release. It would be so easy. But I open my hand, and see the ticket weighing heavy there. And, I feel so guilty for even entertaining the slight thought.

I have been told I am the "guardian healer". I stick by people no matter what. And sometimes, you pay the price. I know what it's like to not have people care about you. I know how it feels to have someone...anyone...care. Christina might be crude and unappreciative of me. Even abusive on some level. But I was...no, am...her friend because I am able to see beyond that. I see what she could be if she were honestly loved and cared for. that's my gift, people tell me. I tell them, that's my curse.

"Where were you?!", Christina asks a little too loudly in the darkened theater.

"I got you some popcorn." I say as I slide back beside her and put the greasy garlic and cheese bucket between us. I can't see her face in the dark, as my eyes haven't adjusted yet, but she's... quiet. Perhaps I cracked her shell with my compassion. Maybe...

"I told you I didn't want that! I'm trying to lose weight. And this beer sucks too!"

It's a long 45 minutes to the end credits.

As the credits roll, I tell her we gotta stay for the very end. I'd heard that there's a very cool coda at the very end. A can't miss moment. Will this redeem the...

"well, I'M not sitting here! I'm going. YOU can stay if you want!" And she pushes off to the lobby. I sigh and after a minute I follow. I want to be her friend. When i see her walking about, I meet up with her and she asks me if I saw the ending to the stupid movie. I lie and say I didn't feel like watching it, but my heart dropped.

I actually ran a red light and flipped an illegal u-turn to get her home. I asked her which housing unit was hers. It was the one...and I'm not kidding...with the old couch in the yard. Explains the beer, I guess.

I go home and ruminate. That and very pathetically look up a spoiler on the Internet on what exactly the Pirates ending coda was. I teared up a little bit when I read it, It was so bloody awesome...

_________________________

The next day at work. I see Christina talking to the others about our movie night and how much the Pirates movie was so awful (I liked it!). Then someone asked Christina if she enjoyed herself. She looks at me and gives me...a smile. Her eyes light up so much that it almost makes me forget yesterday.

"Oh yeah! Me and Mike had a great time! We gotta go see Hostel 2 together next week!"

Ah, 'Tina. Love the girl, but jeez... she did say she's paying though...

Michael: At Wits End (part 1)

This is the fantastic tale of terror and drunken adventure on the high seas of social interaction.


This, is the story of going to see Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End with...Christina.


Don't get me wrong, I like Christina. She's a good person, if somewhat lacking in social skills. And when we decided we'd see Pirates together, I didn't think anything more of that besides seeing a movie with a friend. But, on Friday night, hours before I was to pick her up, I got this...feeling...


A feeling of, almost...dread. And I was thinking perhaps I should call Christina and say that I couldn't make it. That I got a flat tire. That I shattered my skull in a freak hat accident. That my pants are caught on a nail that I can't extrude myself from. Anything. I'll gladly kiss off the tickets, but somehow, something was telling me...don't go...


But like any good mythological tale, the hero ignores the obvious foreshadowing and finds himself in dante's hell. I ignored the fact that Christina was getting more and more cranky and irritable at work. She snapped at me and barked orders. When she asked me a day before if I could also get tickets for her mother as well, I just ignored that request. Her recent obsession with her "ex-boyfriend", Ron. Now, this is a guy who she was going to leave and move out with her Mom to get away from the fact that the only reason she was still living with this person, who she loathes, is so that she can afford rent. Ever since he was arrested in another state for a baggie of "toke smoke", He's in jail for 70 some days and now...Christina misses him soooo much.


All of it was so clear. There was a signpost up ahead, and Rod Serling was welcoming me into the Twilight Zone. The Greek chorus was singing, and my spider sense was warning me on overtime with massive tingling. Yet, I found myself driving to Christina's to pick her up for a movie night.


As soon as she entered the cab of my Beetle, I was instantly intoxicated...by the fumes of cheap beer that waifed off of her. Turns out that she shared a few Pabst Blue Ribbon with her neighbor friend. After all, he bought himself a case. You have to be sociable when a creepy drunk guy who lives next to you offers you alcohol, right?


When we arrived at the theater, she clearly stated that we had better park near the front door, because she doesn't want to walk far. Remember when I said foreshadowing? This was fore-foreshadowing. This was the trailer the the film of how my evening would go.


As soon as I walked through the doors, Christina loudly exclaimed how she needs a drink. The theater we went to serves drinks in a "living room" setup. I think that's why 'Tina wanted to go here for Pirates. As we waited in line she got a menu and was immediately angry and irritated that there were only ales and not mixed drinks. She actually got a bit pissed at me because I didn't know. She complained loudly about that. She complained that we were in a line. she complained that we had BETTER be in the right line. She bitched about the living room theater setting. And there had better NOT be ANY trailers before the movie...She absolutely hates trailers.


After complaining about the location of the seats, and she did pick where she wanted to sit, she complained out the service. Y'see, this theater had waiters to get you food and drink. I was starting to get irritated by all this piss and vinegar she was dishing out. She either bitched about something, or she was ignoring that I was there. What fun. When I did get up:

"where are you going?!"

"um...going to the snack bar...want something? I can get whatever you'd like..."

"Are trying to get me fat?! Hell no I don't want anything. If I even small some of that that garlic butter popcorn, I won't be able to stop eating it and i won't lose enough weight for summer! Why are you even asking? "

"so...that's a no I guess...I'll be back then without any temptations..."

"...and get me a diet coke..."

I had more fun at the snack line at this point. Got us a drink and a pizza slice that I scarfed at the doorway of the theater. Didn't want to create temptation. made sure I had no evidence of food and walked back in with our drinks...

"Wheres the popcorn!!!!???"

"ba-wha...But you said you didn't want...."

"I know what I said! But I can smell the popcorn and I was hoping you'd get some anyway! That would have been thoughtful"

"I could go back if you wanted it now..."

"No...don't bother. How long till the movie starts anyway?

"18 minutes."

"Godammit!!! I'm getting sick of just sitting here!!!"

Eighteen very long minutes later, the room darkened and the tell tale pop of surround sound speakers turning on was a welcome noise. Christine actually smiled at me, as she adjusted her seat and positioned her liquor and diet Pepsi (thank god they had Pepsi...she hates coke). Maybe, this won't be so bad after all. Maybe, she'll be excited and happy about the movie. maybe this little negative patch has passed...

And then the trailers begin...

(End of part one)

What Happens on a Birthday?

After a restless night of trying to decide if it's actually safe to do anything on my Birthday, I am awaken by an angry cat sticking his poisoned fangs into my scalp. Seems it doesn't really matter what day it is, a cats gotta eat.

I figure lets see all the email benedictions I probably got! Yeah, sure, I don't usually receive any personal correspondence, but it's a birthday! And, I'm actually a little positive about this one. Sure, Heather doesn't want to be my friend anymore, even after I made sure she had the best Birthday she could possibly have. Sure, I torpedoed my own expectations as to not get disappointed (and ironically, I wasn't disappointed! How does THAT work, eh?). Sure I didn't expect any gifts or cards or cake, because of the global paper and foodstuffs shortages after the season finale of "Hells Kitchen". But I'm awkwardly positive that something might happily surprise me.

My first email? "Flush 20 pounds of excess out of your colon". How thoughtful!

The only birthday card i got was this one from Pepsi. I quite like the KatHead version, actually.

So I know the few people at my work wants me to meet them for drinks at Applebees later that evening, and I know that Christina will need a ride, so I waste my day away washing my car and driving around town. Now that I think about it, I think I was trying to defy my legacy of motor vehicles and special days. Around three o' clock, my phone rings, and I am MORE than excited! Someone is calling me today to wish me a Happy Birthday!! Is it my family? Is it my friends? Is it going to be a grand day? I snap open the phone and almost yell enthusiastically a "Hello?"

And I hear the voice of Clint Eastwood who just swallowed some razor blades and a bottle brush.

"ugh..er...hello? ...Mike? ...I just woke up..." my god....that's Christina?

It seems she was out all last night with her friends and went to two bars getting drunk. She's a bit hung over, and she's going back to sleep to see if her head will settle. I'm to call her at 4pm to wake her. Well, the birthday is starting out with some texture, isn't it?

So, I dress up very nice and shave and clip and comb and delouse. I'm brilliant! And i text Christina who gives the go-ahead for a pickup. She'll meet me in a 711 parking lot, which is a good thing if I need some rolling papers, a seven dollar can of ravioli, or a tube stake cheeseburger in a flat second. we then travel to Applebees, and the car is unusually quiet. I'm guessing she's a bit dehydrated. But she did have the strength to tell me that she needs to be home by 8pm to possibly receive a phone call from Ron, her "boyfriend" who's on day 14 of a 70 day jail time session.

Let me tell you this: I have found that nothing is much more annoying than those Sidekick phones. All the evening from the car to the restaurant, Christina would whip out her sidekick and flip about the screen to see if anyone would call. She'd sometimes thumb type a massive message back to some anonymous person.

As soon as we arrive, she calls to see where everyone is at. They're going to be a hour or so late. Meantime, Christina is producing that damn Sidekick out of midair every few minutes. I'm just sitting there with nothing to say and feeling very alone. At one point Christina excuses herself and retreats outside for a smoke and a texting session.

the waiter comes up and starts to clear the table of all the silverware except for my own, and I say that there are six people showing up. Just then I see how pathetic i must look, all dressed up and sharing a big table with my imaginary friends. He gives me a look like, "of course you are, sir..." and goes off...just as Christina comes back.

"Did you order drinks?" Well, no I didn't

"We need to order drinks and food now while it's happy hour!" And she attempts to yell across the restaurant they we need service here. She orders two drinks as to save time. A bit of the hair of the dog, methinks. God, why do I even hang with her? It's like traveling with a boozy pirate.

Everyone starts to arrive, and Christina needs to leave now, as it's almost time for "The Ron Might Call from the Bighouse Show". She calls her mom to pick her up, it seems she planned this long before my actual "party", as her mom is there and awaiting for her outside. Now that's service. We have Kathy arrive, and I never knew how much that lady can knock back! She orders one drink, only to declare it isn't strong enough, and gets another one that's enough to make a hobo go blind! She orders two!

Arlene, my co-worker manager, arrives, but says she can't stay longer than one drink and some food to go. Yesterday, I asked Chris if she would show up. Who's Chris, you might ask? She's someone new at work who I find actually truely fascinating. I don't quite get a handle on her yet, but it's clear to me that it'll be interesting to find out eventually, and so far, she'd be the only person that would've actually talked to me here, and not two-fist a drink first... I ask Arlene if she's coming too.

Arlene kicks back her Manhattan, "Oh, she had a better offer." My heart sunk as I see everyone devour the appetizers. I don't blame Chris, as she told me later, that her friends were awaiting for her outside. It would have been cool, that's all.

Finally, as the waiter arrives to dish out the bill, Kathy speaks up, "It's Mikes Birthday. What do you guys do for that? Something free? A cake with candles? You sing happy Birthday?" At this point, I'd even go for what happened last year.

The waiter gave a squinty look, "Uh, we don't have candles due to fire regulations..."

"Well, do you sing happy birthday?"

"Um...no we don't..."

"Jesus...what do you have for a treat for him?"

My "treat" was a simple glass of vanilla Ice Cream and a straw.

I go home, make myself a swanson dinner and watch TV with the cat poking at the potatoes in the pocket of the black plastic tray.

And I think to myself, well, I didn't die, crap my pants, get set on fire, have a girlfriend cheat on me or brake up, smash up my car... And I'm having a nice warm dinner with my furry friend...

It wasn't such a bad day after all.

Countdown to Doomsd...Birthday

It's only minutes away, and I just don't know how I feel about it.

I mean, it's not what I'd hope it would be.

I dunno if I blogged about it, but way back in January, when I found out that Heather wasn't getting a very good birthday, I decided that I'd take her and Kim out and have a great birthday dinner outing. And I said, I wanted today to be all about her. It was going to be, without question, HER day. They way I think everyone should be treated on their own special day. I didn't matter that I don't like mexican food, she did. And I truely beleive in the "do onto others..." mantra. For the first time, I was looking forward to my own birthday.

But It won't happen that way, now will it. Was I being selfish? Am I even allowed to be on the only day of the year where I can be "first"?

The people at work mention that I should meet them at Applebees tomarrow. I am on the fence if I should even go. It all seems more like a "we're going to a bar, you wanna come too since it's your birthday?" I can see myself going and there'll be people there I either don't know or don't socialize with. And they'll all talk about things I can't relate to, and it'll be just like all the parties i ever went to as a young adult: where I would just sit in the back and drink punch, then leave early. Honestly, do you really think I'd ruin their get together if i just go home? A birthday should be more than awkwardness. Kim says i should just go anyway.

I just think a birthday shouldn't be a "just go anyway" affair. I want my day. And I never ask for much.

Doesn't help that a woman customer at work used me to instill fear in her crying children. Thanks lady. She actually told her kid, "stop crying! See that man? He's getting mad at you!"

Why do parent threat their kids with me? I don't have the goal in life to be a real life boogyman to seal up a younglings emotions in public. I'm not even a big fat threataning looking guy. And I shaved today too.

Speaking of which, yesterday, I was at Target buying a fortune in flu and cough meds of all manifestations and sexual preferences, when I hear...oddly enough....a child crying and begging his mom to buy him something. Probably something Spider-manish I bet. When the mom said no and she finished talking about that, this lil' 5 year old child said, in a very clear voice:

"...you can GO TO HELL!!!!"

my keen detective like mind tells me the mother is probably a divorcee' who spends a lot of time on the phone screaming at her Ex. She probably ends each call with that line and a big ol' slam of the reciever.

Oh, and what the hell kind of birds crapped on my car last night?! It looks like tree dingos had intestinal problems on my hood! I mean, sometimes it's dead bugs and poop. But this is dead bugs sliced in half and toasted IN the poop! And not even a mushed bug. Theses bugs are half eaten and still have the terror on their buggy faces as they are half emersed in the tar they are slapped into! Whoever is pooping must be a meat eater bird like a vulture or a peruvian cave bat. I moved my poor car into a safer enviroment, like a lava pool.

Two minutes till midnight.

Then again, I may be totally wrong, and I might have a wonderful day full of surprises and laughter and great lifetime memories!

Midnight. Happy Birthday to me.


I am not joking. I just got up and stepped barefoot in fresh cat barf. Somewhere a feline is snickering.

My Fearie Princess Watches Over Me

Today was Bad. Real bad. I actually thought I would die and no one would find me. They'd call tomorrow to say why I wasn't at work, and I'd get written up for a no show. And I wonder when someone would care enough to find me.

That Tetanus shot I think really almost fried my immunities, or the hospital waiting room was alive with deadly spores. Within days, I had a persistent cough, runny nose, aches and pains, and a headache that would smother Godzilla. This morning, I wasn't hungry anymore, and when I was out and about, even though it was a very hot 89 degrees of sunlight, I had the windows on my Herbie closed and the heater on, and yet the chills almost incapacitated me. I was lucky to get home when I did.

With the windows all closed I collapsed on the couch, and Indiana, my cat (like all cats, intuitive) layed on top of me to keep me warm. It it did no good. I passed out.

Woke up two hours later and I crawled upstairs, almost falling twice and hating myself for feeling so helpless. My eyes were watering so much, I had to feel for the thermometer...and I passed out for a brief second as I slid to the floor. I wiped my eyes enough to see with one, and my hands weren't cooperation to grab the glass tube, or even hold it up. But I saw it.

105.5 and rising. my head was burning up and i half fell downstairs trying to decide what to do. there is NO way I can drive to the hospital, and I can't even use my hands to find the phone anymore. fingers are clenched and don't work. I'm shivering to the point of cunvulsions. Usually, I could call Kim, but she's vacationing in France. Sorta kinda out of the question, huh? I start to go through my list of "friends" that my clouded mind can think of. If I go any higher, I'll pass out and I won't wake up. And worse yet, the cat will eventually be hungry. I started to cry, as I couldn't move and on the edge of reality.

I had a friend in Heather, and I thought, regardless of what she thinks of me, perhaps she'd put that aside and help me get to a hospital. But no. She didn't want to be my friend anymore because I "complicate things" and she has a life she needs to concentrate on. She doesn't like my intensity anymore, and jesus, this is intense right now. Fine. Even though I was hurt that I let down my shields for her, and she abandons that friendship (friendships ARE complications! Welcome ones. I wouldn't have it any other way), I respect that. Thinking of others again...

I think of Christina, as we were going go out for drinks that night (kinda out of the question now), but she's awaiting her boyfriend to call from jail in Wyoming. Caught with a bag of weed and has a 70 day sentence. She's not going to want to miss his phone call. Thinking of others...and I realize...no one can pause and think of me at this time. Their lives are full and I "complicate things". I try the thermometer again, and it's inching to 106. And there is no one, except a cat with no drivers license or the concept of using 911.

I start to pass out, as I can't hold on and my fingers and arms can't move, and drop the glass tube. I can't breathe right, and i can't see.

And... in my mind of shuttered emptiness, I... see an old friend: Kimberlina

let me tell you about Kimberlina. She is a Fearie Princess. That's probably the best way I can describe her. She and I used to get together over coffee and talk about all things metaphysical and her mind was so open and inviting, she had no end to her brilliance. A day with her was totally invigorating...and i haven't been abbe to talk to her since her birthday in January due to her heavy work schedule. If I was lucky, i might get a message monthly, and that was enough to rejuvenate all the things she believed in. I saw her with invisible fearie wings on her shoulders.

When she saw me for the first time, she said she could tell I was a "guardian healer". Her Unicorn. And i told her about my penchant for healing fast, even able to warm my hands in an instant. I held hers and she was surprised how quick she felt that. She said she saw a light in me as a healer, and I'm just learning to harness that. Yes, it's new age, but she believed and she made me as well.

And in my fevered exit, I saw a vision of her. And she said, "...Light from within.". Mind you, I never "learned" how to do this, but I saw my fearie guardian...and, I imagined my core glowing...
My warmth changed and it was beautiful. SHE was beautiful. I directed the "rays" to my hands, and they clenched, I centered my being and my eyes opened. I let the healing light hit my limbs and I could get up with great resistance. I pumped that back into my mind, and I could think again. I walked, walked, upstairs and tried the thermometer again...

105 and falling. 104. Right now it's 103.5 and i can think, and sit up, and type coherently, and talk. I'm not ready to drive yet, but I won't die. Not with my fearie princess looking over me.

Could it be it was a fevered dream? That I was just ready to brake the fevered veil? Possibly. But, today, I believe in faith.

I might call her and leave a message, and I bet she felt something too. She's like that. And she's wonderful.

Tis But A Scratch...

King Arthur: "...Your arm's cut off!!"
Black Knight (spurting blood from his shoulder socket, sans arm): "...No it isn't...."
King Arthur: "Well, whats that over there?", pointing to the dismembered arm on the grass.
Black Knight, gazing at the arm, then back at the King, "Tis but a flesh wound...I've had worse..."

I've always said that as my Birthday approaches, I have...HAVE...to be very careful. Bad things happen. Sometimes very bad things. And now I have to add to keep sharp objects away from me.

Friday night, the 13th, I was watching the fair Christina slice and destroy old TaxCut boxes, after all, if you didn't send your taxes off, you're screwed now, I guess. We were talking, when she let out a yelp! She managed to cut her wrist, not a deep cut, but enough to draw blood. I asked her what happened, and it seems among all the right handed box knife blades, someone made a left handed one. One fast skip over a slick surface and she's injured as she drops the knife in a pile of two others. I take her to mend her wounds and she says she's fine. She's a trooper, and I love that strength about her. Now it takes a random series of events to make that happen once, but to have that happen twice in 5 minutes takes either the worst luck in the whole world, or supreme stupidity...

And here's where I come in.

I tell Christina (or Chrissy J, as we rapmasters call her...okay, just me...but I think it's cute), rest the hand and I'll finish up the last few boxes, and a grab a...knife. Yes, I was "lucky" enough to once again grab the same knife with Christina's blood slathered over it. Once quick cut and a skip, the screw holding the blade handle together moving loose and the blade exposed one inch. And the world stopped as I engage my brain to realize that the long blade, had bisected clear through my thumb. A pause that lasted a lifetime, as my eyes settled back into my sockets and I stared at the wound.

Then the red blood gushed forth like a Las Vegas fountain show. And when they say blood is warm? It's intensely hot and comforting in a strange way. Christina grabs my hand and leads me to the first aid kit, with my tell tale mark of pools of blood all over the place. I have her grab me a pressure gauze and the bleeding still doesn't stop, pooling into my other hand. I start to clean up the place like a pathetic shotgun victim with paper towels, when Christina tells me to go in the back and wash it out. I listen to her, because evidential, now, we're bonded by blood!

As I make my way to the back with a red, previously white rag, and the other hand cupping the filling pool from the slice...when Dean, our assistant manager and professional stress machine runs into me. He starts spouting off things he wants me to do tonight before he goes, no even seeing my hands are crimson. When he finally asks me If I want a lunch now, he notices the trail of plasma and his jaw hits the floor...

"I think, now, would be a good time, y'think." I say

As I try to use the huge first aid kit in the brake room, I realize that most injuries happen to the hands. Yet, EVERYTHING in a first aid kit required two hands, and some of those sealed packets are near tear proof. What the hell? I have to change the dressing four times before Dean asks me, if I think I can finish out the night. It's typical of me that I put others before myself. And an evening with a freaked out Dean is like a tazer to the tender lumps. I pretend the bleeding stopped and say he can go home. And a sigh of relief fills the store.

Christina is brilliant! She repacked and taped up my would so well, not one drop spilled out! I think she was a Madam Curie in another life. And I decided that I'd go to the hospital tomorrow. Too much has happened today.

At the urgent care, I have a nurse carefully try to cut loose the gauze and tape. Christina's such a professional, that the tape is incredibly hard to get some scissors under and cut away. Five minutes into the cutting, the nurses phone rings and she startles so much, the scissors go flying. Shit in a Tophat! All I need is a puncher too!

The doc comes in and separates the wound! Well, at least try...y'see, I have a knack of healing really really fast. In fact the blood trails at work coagulated within minutes. And my would was sealed...even for being a half in deep and scraped bone!

"It's healing really well," he says, "what we're gonna give you is a few tetanus shots and antibiotics. dirty blade, you know..."

The tetanus shots hurt WAY worse. Like someone slammed you on the upper arm with a sledge hammer. And I did a little research, because I immediately started to get my cough and runny nose again...it's because of what they gave me. It's making my immunity system run overtime and At the time, I didn't know it could get worse...

Should have known, though. My birthday isn't here yet. Plenty can happen...

The Start of Curmudgeony

If I ever...ever...get the bright idea to see a summer movie midnight on opening day for the exclusive sneak peak, please please please, refer me to this blog, or take a wooden fence post with a masonry block nailed on it across my head.

Oh, by the way, I saw Spider-man 3. But everyone and their pimp has already talked about that.

I arrive at the theater about 9pm for the 12:01 showtime. I'm thinking that this is a small theater and there shouldn't be a line. What I wasn't thinking of was that sometimes, teenagers will use any excuse to be out amongst themselves to act like asses. And I should have known this too! I did go to school. I have seen the Greek play on display of the guys trying to act cool to impress the chicks. I have seen the cruel temptresses of teen girls trying to look "hot" and be the center of attention by demanding it. it has NEVER changed...

So I see in line a bunch of guys sitting on a sofa. Yep, sofa. Now, guys only do this in the wild. You rarely see teens all crowded on a tiny sofa unless it's to say "look how cool we are that we brought a sofa to sit on in a line! Aren't we funny?". You don't see a bunch of dudes all crammed on one couch otherwise...too "gay". Y'see, if they're at home watching a game on TV with no one to impress, all too soon, they'll become aware that their thighs are touching, that fingertips brush ever so tenderly across the hair on your buddies arm as you reach for some chips, and you never noticed that Dave had such an angelic face...

That should be enough to make everyone expand their personal space and spread out across the carpet.

I also see in line guys with really bad Spider-man masks. Once again to impress the ladies on how cool and funny they must be. I can tell you from experience, a Spider-man mask is hard to breathe through, hot as hell, and near impossible to see out of. No, I don't parade about the house in one, I'm talking about Halloweens when you got that lil' box costume from the market with the satiny jumpsuit and rubberband half mask. But, THESE people were tolerable, demanding you pay attention to them as you pass by...

Behind me was a few girls and their boyfriends. But, i got the message that although the guys thought they were on a date with them, the girls seemed to only consider they guys as "the dudes that are paying for the movie and my food". Why did these people annoy me the most? They talked....loud. Nothing wrong with talking loud, but when you do it so you hope the whole line will overhear your wit, shatters your skull with the cackle of a adolescent girl laughs, and screams . It wasn't only that they talked loud, it was what the subjects they talked about...

"Sharrie!!!!! Gimmie my fries!!! Gimmie!!! Don't be a bitch!!!! (laughs}"
"No don't!!!! DON'T!!! (teeheehee) I'm gonna kick your ass!!! Giv-it-back!!! NooOOOooo (teeheehee)"
"I'm HUNGRY!!! Go get some food, Eddie!!! You know what I Like!!! NO!! I don't want that!!! Shuddap!!! People here are stupid!!!! (a maniacal laugh that chills the soul)"

While this was happening, I was formulating a plan to use my keys to jam under my eyes and scrape my frontal lobe for a quick lobotomy. I could feel my brain cells dying with every word uttered behind me. I was becoming dumber just being around them.

Then I got my birthday wish! I was hit on the back of the head with a Frisbee! How did they ever know! Not only did I get that once, I got it thrice! It was those kids behind me again.

"Angie!!! Why did you duck the Frisbee?!?! (laugh) You retard!!!! (laughs)"

At that point, I turned into a curmudgeon. I turned to Angie and her friends, "Angie...if you're going to duck a Frisbee being thrown at you each time, at least give me warning , 'kay?"

They line started moving finally at 10pm. Couches were shoved back onto a truck that pulled up, masks were taken off, and the trash receptacle outside was buried in fast food containers, wrappers, and pizza boxes. Getting into the auditorium, i was hoping for my last birthday wish: Not to be seated next to the people behind me. As I sat down, in a theater full of people text messaging small novels, and taking cell phone pics, I thought I was home free, as the seats next to me were empty.

Then those same girls came up and straddled the seats next to me to talk to some other guy friends seated behind me! They said they're making the rounds to say hello to everyone (i,e, a cry for attention they weren't getting from their "dates"), and they decided to hang here and talk (yell) to these dudes, cuz theys be cool. At that point I realize that I was in hell.

"Angie!!!!!! Lets take these seats!!! No ones here and we can talk to these guys though the movie!!!!!" My mind actually splint into to and I could feel a coma coming on.

"What about our seats back there with Eric?!!!! Our stuff is there!!!!"
"Aghhh!!! They can watch our stuff, and we'll move back and forth to visit!!!"

Time for drastic action on my part. I see two guys with popcorn and drinks stopped at the theaters entrance scanning for seats. I immediately stand up and scream, "AH!!! There you guys are!!! I was thinking you'd never make it!!! I saved your seats right here!!!" The girls look to each other, the two latecomers look to each other with confusion, then shrug and decide to take my offer! I am elated as they move to the chairs and the girls vacate them.

Then one of the latecommers says, "Hey, lets get those seats up there at the back...", and they continue up the stairs.

NOOOOOOO!!! SONAVABITCH!!! I then realized I yelled those things outloud, but I didn't care as the girls took back up the straddling of chairs, and occasionally moving back and forth between rows.

I counted five butts (three female), two men's junk, three girlie parts, one elbow, and a cell phone, smacking the back of my head during this whole time, in addition to the three Frisbees, and I wished for the sweet release of death, as the two girls chatted on with the guys and with their cells, and I had a hour to wait for the movie still.

Then someone tapped me on my shoulder: A couple in their twenties. "Are those seats taken?"

I think a tear formed as I said "Bless you..."

Decompression

Well, I'm back and suffering like a vampire after spending 2 and a half weeks working a 10 hour graveyard shift, 6 days a week. It took me days to get used to the schedule, and the entire time, I was draining out of my sinuses like a down spout in a rainstorm. The screwed up part is: I'm a confirmed insomniac. Change up my routine, and I just...don't...sleep...

When my boss asked me if I could help out a remodel of an Office Depot in Vancouver, like an idiot, I thought, "cool ass! I can take a vacation from my current duties!" Then I realized that I was being volunteered.

Even when I left work for the last time in a few weeks, I saw a penny on the ground and I thought, "oooOOooo! that's good luck!" Only later did I remember what happened to Lincoln. I still don't know why we equate the visage of ol' Abe with being "lucky" I mean, the guy was a big goony ugly man. Y'know when people paint presidential pictures, they always try to handsome up the pic. Big noses get shorted, weak chins get heroically proportioned.

Lincoln's looks like Herman Munster. Makes you wonder what he really looked like!

I won't even go into the theater thing. But as I recall, people say that if a penny is "face down" the "luck"s running out. Gruesome...eww...

But I thought I would need some luck: Last time I did an overnight remodel of a store several years ago, I cracked my spine.

I was putting up a huge 12 foot high shelf, placed six feet from the side wall, so the store can create a lock up area. My brilliant assistant manager insisted that we place all the heavy items on the inside of this wall only, and worry about the outside tomorrow. So, physics decided to make him it's bitch and collapsed the metal wall upon me and two other workers.

When they finally unburied us, they found me bracing the steel wall against the brickwork, making a small hole for the other two. And for my impromptu heroism, I suffered two cracked vertebrae, and i had convince the assistant manager I needed medical attention, and that bones shouldn't feel and sound like a box of crushed cornflakes.

Anyway, your life gets really messed up when you go to work at 7pm, work till 7am, can't sleep cuz you're so wired till 11am. THEN you pass out at 11am and wake up at 6pm, just to have an hour to get ready for work again. You see more night than day. And when I could smell, all I smelled were sweaty co-workers who thought, "why shower?" I, myself, didn't shave for a few days at a time. When I finally shaved for my first official day back at my home Office depot, I cut my face to shreds. Let me tell you, looking non-dapper is dangerous.

I pumped myself up with zingers and caffeine. A BIG no-no for me! But I needed to stay awake. My system is so messed up, and started thinking lunches consisted of breakfast burritos.

And so, I'm back, and WIDE awake at 3:10am

Sucks. Net even any good TV on...

Numbness of Creativity

As I sit amongs the various cables, wires, guitars and vox boxes, i'm desperatly trying to fight the creative brainfart. I have about four ideas to toy around with and nothing solid. It doesn't help that i have that I have that Burger King "Big Buckin' Chicken" song in my head.

My week as been kind of a creative brainfart.

I need to try to take a bottle brush and clear out my head. I apologize ahead of time if any of this makes no sense, frightens any of you, creates hidious dreams.

I was eating a sandwich at a blimpys when I overheard a younger man talking to an older one. He said, and I quote, "yeah...when I graduate, i wanna either be a rapper...or a hotel manager." I have to say, i stopped eating and tuned in on this conversation. I wanted to so hear how if you failed to be a rapper, the next logical step to hone your "mad playah skillz", is to be a hotel manager.

Y'know what bugs me? When you call someone on the phone, and they have an answering machine message that plays like this: four minutes of a metal tune you can hardly make out due to being played into a mike the size of a hair folicle, then a monotone sleepy voiced "i'm not here right now, leave a message". What the hell was the mini concert about? At least sing that last part if i am forced to hear your tune.

I wake up almost every morning to the sounds of a Girls Gone Wild infomercial on TV in the background. Somehow, I don't think that could be healthy...

How can you not outrun a Zombie? I was watching a horror movie, and even though these bad posture puppets are moving like an old lady with a walker, they always seem to catch the young living couple that can run, much like there are zombies on their tail. And why can't a zombie eat another zombie? They move the same speed, so the chase would be short.

On almost every set of instruction on preparing a boxed dinner, the final instruction is, "Serve, and enjoy!" Which is excellent, because I was just going to toss it in the garbage after I cooked it, and grow dispondent. And the box cover has the legend "serving suggestion" on the pic of the finished food, I'm assuming so they can't be sued by people feeling they have been shoehorned into having to use a plate to place the product for eating. What would be cool, is if they would put a pic of a girl wearing my strogonoff as a bikini, on the box.

Now THATS a suggestion!

When someone tastes spoiled milk, why do they always do this: "ewwwwghh! taste this!". After that review? But of course! Let me burst a blood vessel in my eye from trying not to retch downing chunkey curds and whey. What am I supposed to say? "Goddamn, that IS bad!". Doesn't it show how much I respect your opinion by just taking your word on that?

Foolish days and the Time Released Joke

I don't particulaly like April Fools Day. Everyone always assumes you're full of crap. It's a day where you have to assume anyone who tells you anything, is setting you up. But I now realize that this caution I get over April 1st stems over an incident I was a part of as a child:

I was home from middle school with my bowl of CherriO's and all ready to watch RoboTech and finish up my sugar induced high with some Speed Racer and kimba cartoons, when the phone rang. My sister Diane was calling, sounding a mite frantic. She tells me she needs for me to call our mom, because she at the hospital with a broken ankle, that mysteriously happened at school.

But hey, I'm no fool!! I know it's april first, and Diane wasn't above fooling me. She has successfully in the past. But y'know what? I'm a pre-teen now! I can make my own midday cerial! She ain't putting this one over on me! And I promtly told her "yeah right..." and hung up...

And hours later she came home on crutches and a cast on her leg.

April 1st is the only day where paranoia is actually encouraged. You tell people something, and they automatically assume you're setting them up as a fool. And somehow, we're all supposed to be good natured about this. You made an idiot out of me in public, gimmie a hug you funny funny guy! You're hidious prank has caused me great anguish and cracmed my tailbone...but you say it's april fools day? Well then, touche' my good man! My inner scarring of not trusting you for the chance of a not so astonishing jest will be a padge i'll wear most proudly.

Besides, it's more of a challange to do this any other day, with dry wit and penosh ;)

I propose we change April first from playing pranks on people, to just sneaking up and kicking them on the ass. Anyone can do that without too much prep work. Even the humorless can get in on the fun. And when would you get the chance to put the boot to someone who would otherwise either fire you, or place their fist to your face?

Oh, and you wanna know how to pull a good joke? Back on 12/21/06, I wrote the blog "Pull The String", and it started with the following:

Someone at my work reminded me of this story, and dammit, it would have been absolutly perfect to tell this tale on Halloween! It's weird. it's spoooky. It's true. And it's very much like a henwhey.

According to my sitemeter, 34 people read that post, and that line. Kinda cool, since I really don't know that many people...but NO one asked me, "Whats a Henwhey?"

So, whats a Henwhey?



About two pounds. (rimshot)

Riding the Confusion Unity

Synchonicity: an acausual connecting principle (it's Jung "thing")

It's the most amazing thing to share a thought with someone at the same exact time. A emotion or reaction. It can be funny or thoughtful, or even scary. But it's an amazing synergistic moment. Now imagine that multiplied my 35000 people.

ALL at the same exact time.

Back in the 80's, MTV was just starting out. It showed the same 20 videos, and it seemed like every 5 minutes was a live Rush clip or a Flock of Seagulls. But Martha Quinn was dorky/awesome (I think she's now working as a pool cleaner), and it ruled the world. So, of course, MTV thought they could do anything, and decided to sponsor a huge world tour. And that was the Police with their "Synchronicity" tour. Ironic, huh?

Let em tell you, if there was a way to screw up a concert, MTV found a way. Go for cheap venue: the tour started at Hollywood park, a horse race track. that meant the stage was at the finish line score board with 85% of the seats west of that. Of course, that's where I was seated, and I watched the whole show standing on a folding chair with my neck craned 45% right the whole 3 hours.

And the nice thing about Hollywood park, was that the promoters decided it was easier to funnel 35000 people through one 8 foot wide corridor, as to maintain control of the rush. What they instead had was a makeshift meatgrinder for humans. People were crushed, fainting, trying to escape through the mens room windows. It was wonderful, and the fumes of big sweating unwashed cattle/people started to burn my brain.

But this isn't a story about the Police, or even the park. It's a story about 35000 people sharing a moment, and it's about the 3rd opening act: Terri Nunn and Berlin. The Original Berlin. Riding on the metro stuff (all you young'ns, respect your new wave roots and look it up in iTunes).

Simple Minds opened up, and they played the same song seven times, or so it sounded like. Then the Fixx hit the stage, and that was cool, Finally, the last opening band was ready after a 30 minute delay, Berlin was on...as was of course the song, "Riding the Metro". And big cheers was erupting at the songs end.

Terri Nunn took the mike and did the customary rockstar pumping up of the crowd, and they were all eating it up...

"How are we all doing toniiiiiiiigggghhhttttt!!!"

The crowd roars.

"Are we having a good tiiiimmmmeee?!!"

The crowd roars once again.

Then, she did something I have never experienced ever again. With one simple incoherent rant, she joined up 35000 minds into one gestalt! Everyone acted as an individual, yet as a hive mind! We all were in the same boat. A world united with only one word. One message. A universe as one!

And she let it fly:

"I can feel all your energy shooting through my body and coming out of my fingertips at all of yoooooouuuu!!!!"

Absolute dead silence! 35000 people just...stopped! A perfect pregnant pause. The stadium was quiet for one brief second as the only sound heard of the magnified pulse of spinal fluid as 35000 people looked to one another, seeking anyone, anyone, who understood what the friken hell she said! I looked to my left and was met with the mirrored look of incomprehension. I looked to my right, and was met with the same lost look in my neighbors eyes. behind me, and in front, the same. we were all looking for someone who got a clue what that was all about!

We were all floundering and looking to our brotha-man for help! Then everyone all at once looked to the stage in utter bafflement and uttered a simple word to themselves under their collective breaths. 35000 people whispering the same exact word at the same exact time with the same exact weight of purpose...

the stadium broke the silence with the collected incredibly clear murmur magnified thousands of times:

........................................".....huh?"

35000 people became one confused entity!!! And instantly, there was a huge air of awkwardness the size of Texas between the audience, and the stage. As if someone farted.

Now, can you ever say that has ever happend to you, or that it can ever happen again in the same way?! I am so proud that at least I was at one point in my life, connected with the cosmos.

Oh, and Berlin broke up soon afterwards. I'd like to think we all made that happen with the power of confused unification.

And Tonight, Mr. Kite is Topping the Bill (part 2)

(this is part two, people. If you want to involve yourselves in my petty whining, and not have the super secret surprise ending that will shock and haunt you, read part one, "A Splendid Time...")

A sea of unblinking eyes in the darkness.

Every note feels over exaggerated and clumsy.

I'm counting the milliseconds till I have to open my mouth. Thinking that perhaps I could extend the eight bar intro, somehow, so I can mentally prepare more. I wish my friends were here now. My chair creaks like a steel girder about to buckle. Everything is a magnification of faults.

Right now, my soul is laid bare for the masses to tear asunder.

Music is rhythm. If I don't vocalize right now, I will stumble like a runner and not recover. the stones shift in my pocket and I think of Heather and Kim...

And I sing the first verse. I could hear the fear in my own voice, but i don't falter. I'm singing a song I sang fifteen years ago...the very first time I did this. It seemed a karmic choice.

First verse over, and now a four bar stanza. I take a moment to listen outwardly to the audience: Complete silence! Like the dead walked into a bar and sat down. I can hear random breathing and chair creaks. They were never this quiet when the other played. I am so bombing out.

Second verse. Okay. So be it. If I'm going to fail here, it's going to mean something. I let the audience melt away, and I fall into my own world. I'm doing this for me, it's only natural I really just do this for myself and at least enjoy the moment. Now I do the chorus, and it's for me. It's for the people who care for me now and in the past.

I take a moment to open back up to the world and watch the audience for a second. Screw them if they don't like this...Then I get a relevation! I finally clear my head of the fear and see it in their faces. I make eye contact and I make that unique connection to everyone out there. And there it is...whats happening here...

They aren't quiet because they hate me: They're listening. Intently listening. I took them in! They've understood that I'm just not doing a song just because I like the chords, or it's cool on the radio, or even that it's an easy song to play live. They are listening to my story. I've become vulnerable to them, and they welcomed me with open hearts. Becoming vulnerable in kind.

Well, crap! I wrap up the song in a nice bow! They deserve that. I hear the stones shift in my bag as I let the final chord ring out. Then...spontaneous heartfelt applause. Not the caned reaction when someone does a good job. A virtual pat on the back and a "nice try" emote. This is real. They are giving back. Oh Jesus, this feels like the best day of my life.

the owner of the place, or maybe he just puts these things together, shakes my hand as I leave the "stage". Turns out he was part of the husband/wife keyboard bass group earlier, and he does MC these things. He thought it was brilliant! And once again, I just don't know what to say but "thanks". As I start to clean off my reading glasses from the flop sweat, he asks me the casual question if I know some of the songs he's now mentioning. I do say I know a few of them. I'm actually quite well versed in many eras of music from the 60's through the 80's thanks to my sister, Diane. She was the perfect musical hippy sister. Devo, the Knack, Plimsoles, Pink Floyd, Cheep trick, even Frampton comes alive, all due to her being on the bandwagon at the start.

he says he might call me up, if that's okay for their traditional lil' jam session the close out the night with. How odd, I think. Hours before, I almost would do anything to avoid this place and night. Now, I'm actually anticipating with great verve, once again being on stage with others and making music!

They call me up to applause, and I feel 24 and back in California again! I remember one of my first live gigs I did with Mark and Len. I was scared then too, but the party loved us, and gave us tons o' beer after each song! That's a social badge of honor. And I got a wee bit drunk I think, Because I was told later that when I played the end to the Alarms song "Strength" I did a blistering long ass lead finally. Even did it one handed with hammer-ons and pull offs. I don't do blistering. I had to be inebriated!

And now it's Saturday night in Portland over a decade later. And once more, I step onto the stage and plug in with a full band. The feeling I had back then in California, I'm actually feeling now. There is no fear, only elation. And as I synergy of the group, I don't want this night to end.

Wish my friends were here, cuz I feel blistering.

A Splended Time is Guaranteed for All (part 1)

Saturday afternoon, I was at work, doing anything to not remind myself about that night.

Playing in front of a live audience...

Nevermind awaiting me at home was my polished and tuned (for the billionth time) 62' Rickenbacher in it's hardshell case. Inside there was an army of picks, 12 copies of lyrics to tape to the stage (or what would pass for a stage). My clothes laid out. My bag of centering stones Heather gave me. Various change in case i needed to pay for parking in Portland. Gas up and wash my Herbie. Supergule for my fingertips. Trying and failing to avoid stress acne. And Kimberlinas special stone I had in my car for me to be safe driving home in that hideous snow storm and I'd forgotten to give back.

Yeah, nevermind that. I packed for a war. Which is ironic, because superglue was invented as a field dress bandaid in world war two. Now I use it to avoid blisters on my fingers.

No one knew were I was going, and at the time I preferred it that way. last thing I needed to worry about was my friends watching me potentially bomb out. At least with a sea of people I didn't know who think I suck, I can just be forgotten.

And I hate Portland downtown. It's crazyville, a mass on one way streets and old blue haired ladies in big cars with eternally blinking right turn lights rolling into bus benches. God, I fear driving there. But, i needed to do this. So I braved the hell that is earthbound: paid parking lots with hourly rates. It's were you take cars to scare them straight.

So, I park and pray for the health of my beetle, then remove my guitar case and walk the few blocks to the coffeehouse's open mike night. It would be so easy to turn away. How cool would it be if the place was just shut down by the health board for way too much rat feces? I'm really grasping at straws now and each step is getting harder. I am so hating life and hating being alone here.

And yet me and the Ricky make it to the place: A small business with a pseudostage, various chairs and table, and lots of P.A. equipment and mini 40 watt amps the size of a box of CherrieO's. They even have a keyboard and drum set. The place smells of caffeine and smoke, and I sign in at the counter...one of five names.

Whew! At least it'll be a small crowd right? So, I wait and look around the guitar shop next door. Looking at the forest of pretty pretty guitars and basses, and frolicking with the treble clef faries. Faries. Damn, i starting to wish Heather and Kim were her to give me some support. I'm starting to get nervous. Time to get back to the coffeehouse and just play that one song to the probably two tables of people. there for their lattes.

What the Crap!!!! The place is packed!!! WAY to many people! Wait..wait...wait...what happened... Lets see...Awwww crap. Five people playing tonight. And these people probably have families that pushed them for a career in music, so their whole family and/or friends are here to see lil' Johnny's debut. There's like 30 people here! 30 people all intently watching the open mike night.

30 people to judge my soul.

Okay, dooooon't panic. I'll just ask to be last, on the grounds that i'm using an electric guitar so i need more time, YEAH, that's it, more time to prepare! Then, these people will filter out when their little boy is done with his piece. I'm a genius!

I'm an idiot. I just watch the previous four acts, three acoustic sets and an interesting keyboard/bass husband and wife combo. And all of them played cover songs...i'm going to be the only dork playing an original. Playing something no one has ever heard, or would have no interest in. And when it's time for me....no one had left...

I'm starting to rethink the not having friends idea. Big time.

I've unpacked my guitar, and realize I forgot to bring the strap. Figures. I borrow one off the guy who did the Nirvana cover. I go out on stage to the scattered polite clapping and spend way too much time adjusting the mike for my height. I even cause some feedback: Nice beginning.

Oh god. I wish I wasn't here. My throat is dry, I feel dizzy. I wish I didn't bring my glasses so I can make out the staring faces in the audience. I decide to tune the guitar one more time right here as I clear my mouth of the cotton and try to come up with another stalling tactic.

And I can' t think of any. Time to jump in feet first...

I play.

(end of part one)