Changed the Title

Yesterday I confirmed a meeting to discuss recording the Gamelan orchestra at a local University. Gamelan is a traditional Indonesian percussion orchestra featuring a huge variety of drums, gongs, xylophones, bells and other instruments, accompanied by dancers...every instrument is handmade specifically for a unique place, such as a temple or university. They are beautiful creations and I cannot wait to record them...here's a photo of the Gamelan in question:




It makes me drool in anticipation. The recording will be combined with an interview segment and aired on independent radio stations in the USA and Canada- I won't get paid, but I will get a great credit for my rapidly-growing portfolio.

It's an exciting time for me. The musical gear I am currently using was almost exclusively purchased during my previous Censored gig (the last time I could afford such luxuries) and a lot of it needs to be replaced, repaired or upgraded. If I don't get the Censored gig, I have the club gig as a back-up plan. I don't know why I let my musical drive wither away- I suspect alcohol may have been a factor- but the passion is still there. It's my element and I belong to it. I honestly don't know what the future holds, but I damn sure know that it will sound good.

Living Well, Served Cold

Roughly twenty years ago I went through what was the Motherfuck Of All Breakups, even by my standards- my girlfriend stole my drugs, sold them to buy harder drugs and when I confronted her, she tried to kill me with a wolf. Seriously. She had a pet wolf and it was a killer- unless it liked you.
Luckily , the wolf liked me and refused her command to attack, but still...it was kinda uncool, ya know?

Back in 2005, I crossed paths with her briefly while I was working at Bank of Generica. I acknowledged her just enough to let her know I was ignoring her but I quickly forgot the encounter, as it was only a short time later that my drinking finished the job that the wolf had declined to start some two decades earlier. I died a couple of times in 2005, but I kept coming back to life and eventually I was released back into the wild to fend for myself.

More recently, I saw her again, this time in a setting where it was impossible to give her the ignoring she deserved...actually, I didn't even recognize her until the second of three days that I was forced into her company. When we dated, I was 20 or 21 and she was 32 or 35 or some other really, really old number, which means that she'd be 52 or 55 today...I have seen plenty of very attractive fifty-ish women, but my ex-GF is not one of them. Gone was her long, lovely auburn hair; it was replaced by a short, utilitarian boy's cut...gone was her slim figure; in it's place was a dumpy ovoid wrapped in baggy cotton...she was even wearing truly ugly thick-rimmed glasses. Her intense, angry eyes were her only unchanged feature.

Omigodzilla, I thought, I used to have sex with that?

Over the course of the last few evenings, I caught her glaring at me several times, especially when I was having a friendly (not too friendly, mind you) conversation with a very pretty female friend who is quite 'touchy-feely'. Ha, I thought, revenge is mine. I look good and she does not...I am happy and comfortable and she...well, I don't know for sure, but she sure looks miserable, lonely and angry.
I even pointed her out to one of my male friends - "you used to date that?", he replied, shaking his head. It made me feel like an asshole.

For twenty years I have rehearsed various cruelties in my imagination, things I could do or say that would hurt her, make her feel as bad as she made me feel so long ago...finally, I had my chance for revenge.

It felt hollow. I don't hate her any longer.

It's been nearly three years since I quit drinking and it has taken most of that time for my heart to find a place where it is comfortable and now that I have found it, I realize that there isn't any room for junkies, wolves or vengeance.

When I saw her last night, I waved 'hello'. She said, "hello, Allan." Dramatic, eh?

That is exactly the right amount of reconciliation. It's not so much that I forgive her- I don't- it's just that I don't give a fuck one way or another. I'm trying to move forward and I don't feel like dragging myself back into grief and bad habits from the past. I take her presence as a warning, a cautionary sign of what could have been had I chosen to stay on my old path, a reminder that even though I feel better now than I ever have in my entire life, the past is a hungry, snarling wolf that will kill me if I let it.

If I let it.

I won't.

A Musical Weekend

Saturday night I parked my car on Broad Street. It drew a large crowd and a thundering ovation. That's my Volvo, center stage! I had to hold my camera way above my head to take this, so pardon the blurosity.

Oh. No one cares about my car. They came to see bands...would y'all please sit down? I can't see the stage. Thanks.

Hey! That's Fallentown's own Now Sleepyhead playing...I like that band and I enjoyed doing sound for them this weekend. They had their CD release party Saturday, drawing a good crowd. Some of NS's songs are mellow and haunting, almost ambient...others are loud and pounding, full of howling guitar noises. They switch instruments a lot too, which I enjoy. During an ethereal acoustic song, the audience actually sat down and gently swayed along...I can't recall the last time that I saw a crowd sitting on the floor at a rock show...fallen on the floor, sure...but sitting?

Times certainly have changed since I was a punk rocker. One of the opening acts- a hippie with a guitar- actually asked the audience to "please be quiet and pay attention, I am going to play some songs"...I expected boos and heckling, but the patchouli goblins obeyed, sitting down and talking in hushed whispers. WTF?

Now Sleepyhead, playing a lullabye:

Now Sleepyhead rocking:



And here they are last week,performing live in the studio at the radio station...they asked me to dim the lights, which made it difficult for the listening audience to see them, but they sounded really good. Talented band, they are.



The club that they played at occupies the first floor of the building and the radio station occupies the second floor, which is very convenient for me...there's a lot of "hurry up and wait" when you do club sound and it's nice to have a quiet, semi-private place I can dash off to when the urge strike me.

Sunday brought another show, this one featuring North Carolina's Dylan Gilbert. He's a one-man show- techno/acoustic/space-folk, I called it. Dylan liked that...he's very talented and a helluva nice guy too...go see him if you can!

All told, I did sound for eight bands/acts over the weekend and it looks like I'll be picking up some more much-needed paying work in the future- the owner told me that I was the best soundman they'd ever had (the bands were very complimentary as well) and asked if I would be available in the future...exactly what I wanted to hear.
They are willing to spend a little money improving the sound, so I'll be acting as a professional consultant as well. I need to keep moving in this direction, it's starting to take off without me doing much at all...with some effort, I might succeed in whatever it is I'm doing. As my beloved Whim has been trying to tell me, things are looking up!

It feels good to be working on my own again. I still have the day job, but having some fun, extra cash helps a lot, even if means working 7 days (or nights) a week, which it will...but there is more to life than live bands and studio recording- there is also live radio! As usual, I had an excellent time on-air Saturday afternoon, feeling calm, groovy and totally at peace with my world. I had a lot more callers than usual and that's always a good feeling. Made me feel wanted, ya know?

THE NEW BREAKFAST SNOB, JULY 26, 2008:

Jethro Tull- Sunshine Day
Ten Years After- Let the Sky Fall
Atomic Rooster- Ear in the Snow
Jimi Hendrix- Gypsy Eyes
Soft Machine- Why Am I So Short?/So Boot If At All
Moody Blues- Dear Diary
Daevid Allen & Robert Wyatt - Memories
David Lindley- You Never Knew Her
Chris Spedding- Breakout
Soft Boys- You'll Have To Go Sideways
Cursive- The Martyr
Stranglers- Nice and Sleazy
Cranberries- Close To You
Richard Thompson- Keep Your Distance
Calpurnia- Ragtop
Nick Drake- Cello Song
Wire- Surgeon's Girl
Steve Hillage - Wait One Moment
The Frames- Sideways Down
Jethro Tull- Living In The Past
Supertramp- Sister Moonshine
Horsehead- Walk it Off
Bruce Cockburn- Lovers in a Dangerous Time
Mommas & Poppas- I Call Your Name
Mitch Aitch Price- Until The Real Thing Comes Along
Leo Kottke- The Other Day (Near Santa Cruz)
Garbage- Androgny
Danielle Dax- T.N.K.
John Cale & Brian Eno- Spinning Away
Damien Dempsey- Negative Vibes

Don't touch that dial.

How Stupid Do You Think I Am?

I recently received this email via the address associated with my blog:

Hi,
I'm Elmer and I work at pacificadvance.com,a company
interested in blog advertizing.I found your blog camelsback23.blogspot.com engaging and I'm contacting you to ask if you are interested in blog post sponsorship.If you are interested,kindly mail back and I'll send you pricing details, guidelines and processes.Looking forward to doing business with you.

Sincerely,
Elmer
Pacificadvance.com

Elmer. Dude. You don't need to pay me. I'll give you free publicity right now.

The first thing I did after reading your spam was to Google Pacificadvance.com. Hmmm...it's linked to PayDay Loans , Inc. Since you have read my blog, you probably realize that the only thing I hate more than stupid people are the con men who prey on them, and predatory "payday" loan sharks are amongst the worst of that sorry lot. Normally, I would be put off by any "professional" correspondence wherein the writer failed to provide a full name, but since you are allegedly affiliated with PayDay Loans, I am willing to cut you some slack- I understand that you-as any right-thinking person would be- are ashamed of your unsavory business ethics and would therefore be reluctant to use your real name.

I also found dozens of blogs on which you had left the exact message that you sent me on their comments section, changing only the blog URL in the text. There sure are a lot of "engaging" blogs out there, Elmer. Curiously, none of those blogs had a Pacificadvance dot com 'advertizement'. (sic)

Most of the blogs I saw either scoffed at ignored your offer but I wanted to learn more...being an impatient man, I eschewed the email reply and went directly to the PacificAdvance homepage, called the toll-free number and asked for you by name. Imagine my surprise when I was told that there was no "Elmer" there! I was even more shocked to find out that they had never heard of PacificAdvance:

Operator: "Hello, FastCash. Can I have your social please?"

Me: " No, you cannot. I'd like to speak to Elmer, please."

O:"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number."

Me: "Is this PacificAdvance?"

O: "No, this is FastCash. Can I have your Social Security number, please?"

M: "Not until I talk to Elmer."

O: "Sir, we don't have an 'Elmer' here but I'd be happy to help you with a loan."

************************************************

Dude, you need to let your staff know who you are and where they are working.

If I was the skeptical sort, I'd guess that anyone who responds to your email will be presented with some enticing but fictional numbers ( get rich blogging), fanciful, vaporous sums that the lucky blogger can 'earn' merely by agreeing to let you place ads on their blog. Of course, in order to get paid, that blogger will be required to submit their tax ID info ( Social Security #, bank account # and home address)...I imagine that they may even be asked to 'temporarily' give your company administrative access to the blog itself in order to place the ad on the site. Just a guess.

I can't see this as being anything other than a scam. My blog gets almost no traffic and is extremely hostile towards scams, legal and otherwise. I have not-and never will- taken out a "PayDay" loan. There is no legitimate reason for PacificAdvance (or whoever you are) to contact me. Ever.

*******************************************

Have you received this come-on? Did you answer it?

Sign in as 'anonymous' if you did. I will make fun of you.

Spiritual Paine

Unless you attended American schools you probably know who Thomas Paine was and why he is famous. I went to Public School back in the 1970's, so I learned about Paine the only way available to me- by getting thrown out of class by a zealously religious grade school teacher. We were studying the American Revolution by memorizing a series of names, places and dates without being taught the context and settings attached to these people and events. Due to family circumstance, I changed schools at least once per year as a kid and by sixth grade I was already sick of rote memorization, so I asked my teacher, Mrs. B, if I could write a paper on Thomas Paine's seminal American pamphlet, Common Sense, as an extra-credit project.

Common Sense, as you know, advocated for the independence of the American Colonies from British rule...in fact, it was Paine who conceived the very name The United States of America. Writing about him would be an interesting way to study the American Revolution, I suggested.

Mrs. B. was aghast. Paine was a "heathen", she declared, and she was not in the business of encouraging heathenism. I didn't know what she meant, so I asked her to explain what a heathen was.
Paine, said Mrs. B., "did not believe in God" and people like that were called "heathens"...didn't I go to Church?, she asked, what religion was I ,anyway?

Stupidly, I told the truth. I didn't go to church and didn't know what religion I was. I didn't even know it was necessary to "be" a religion.
Did I believe in God?, she asked.
I guess maybe, I replied, I never really thought about it much.

Mrs. B. called my father at home that evening. I don't know exactly what was said, but two days later I was moved to a different classroom, one where I was allowed to read the works of Thomas Paine, heathen extraordinaire.

One of the first things I learned was that Paine was a deist and devout in his belief of God- he merely believed that every single organized religion that has ever existed has been wholly mistaken in it's conceptualization of the Supreme Being(s). He believed that religion was a tool used by humans to impose their will on other humans and that the true form of spirituality was merely to love your fellow humans and act accordingly. God, Paine argued, wasn't some vain megalomaniac that demanded obedience and sacrifice, God just wanted people to treat each other fairly. He believed that the goodness of a man was measured by his actions, not by simply claiming to be good. This, to my young mind, made a lot of sense...what didn't -and doesn't- make sense was why this simple, elegantly benign idea was so threatening to Mrs. B. and people like her.

"The world is my country, and to do good my religion."
-Thomas Paine

Fundamentalists and Nationalists (the ones who can read, anyway) hate that quote. Paine, one of the most important voices of the struggle for American Independence, was hated by professional Christians for having Christ-like good intentions. My child-mind was baffled by this hypocritical illogic.

"Any system of religion that shocks the mind of a child can not be a true system."
-TP

I'm not sure if any words can shock a child's mind more than being told that they will burn in a lake of fire for eternity if they don't obey God. It is truly the stuff of nightmares.

Not surprisingly, Paine's later work, The Age of Reason, didn't win him many friends of the Fundamentalist persuasion. Upon Paine's death, professional Christians set about spreading false rumors, slandering his character and claiming that he had "repented" on his deathbed, finally accepting God mere moments before his passing...this serves to illustrate my opinion that Fundamentalists don't have an iota of understanding regarding the Being that they allegedly worship- Paine, despite their claims to the contrary, had long ago accepted God into his heart and mind, it was this belief that compelled him to work for the betterment of a society that, in part, despised him. Paine loved God and believed that love to be reciprocal, he just didn't accept the peculiar dogmatic doctrines of the world's institutional religions. One famous anecdote has Paine saying that Jesus would never return to Earth as long as there was a chance that a Church could get it's hands on Him...Paine believed that God and science inhabit the same Universe and that the two are not mutually exclusive -this caused certain professional Christians to call for his execution-ironically, this American patriot spent a good part of his later life in his native England, returning to America at the invitation of another famous "heathen", Thomas Jefferson.
(Paine was an inveterate pamphleteer, which was a sort of prototypical blogger and some of what he wrote got him in deep trouble with the Government, something which could never happen in today's enlightened, open times)

Paine did not believe in the Bible as a historical record, but he did see wisdom in the words attributed to Jesus...I only wish Paine had lived long enough to answer that most insipid of pseudo-philosophical morally-impaired rhetorical questions: "WWJD?"
(Stay where he is, I imagine Paine would say)

If Paine were alive today, his brilliant, patriotic philanthropy would cause him to be reviled all over again...can you imagine a contemporary politician defending agnosticism and questioning the validity and accuracy of the Bible?

I'd vote for him. We could use an honest man in office.

Next: Robert Ingersoll and why I love him.

Say That Again

I thought I was going to be busy at work this week, but I am not. In fact, I haven't had any assignments at all for two days running...Tuesday usually brings some menial tasks, but not this week. The company is being sold- Friday is the sale date- and things seem to be in a state of flux at the moment.

Yesterday we had a cake-laden "awards ceremony" which I think was designed to help settle employee nerves as the transition looms- I was happy to see that the big $500 prize went to the girl in the Mail Room but I wasn't so thrilled about the announcement that a significant number of temps have been hired on to full, benefited positions and that I was not one of them-I really could use some health insurance. I am beginning to think that the next doctor I see will be a coroner.

Today brought another "reward"- at 11 o'clock an Ice Cream Truck pulled up outside and we were all given tickets that we could exchange for frozen treats. I believe this was meant as a morale booster, but it had the opposite effect on the employees who are struggling with obesity (approximately 2/3rds of the office): "OMG, I had cake yesterday, there is no way I can eat ice cream today, I'm getting sooo fat..."

On the positive side, having ice cream at 11:15 AM should decrease one's lunchtime appetite- unless one is me, that is. My Nutty Buddy just made me hungrier, which sucks because I was too busy to pack lunch last night and I have no money until payday.

I did find a part-time job yesterday- I'll be doing sound at the coffeehouse that shares the building with the radio station, which should put a few shekels into my escape fund. Experience has taught me to be cautious when placing eggs or other breakable goods (i.e., hearts) into musical baskets...the club could be pretty cool if the new owners are willing to invest a little money in equipment and soundproofing, but as it stands they don't have enough gear to properly facilitate a live musical act of any kind...Saturday I am going to set up decent, albeit jerry-rigged, sound system and, if all goes well, offer to sell/lease my gear to the club. I store some of my surplus equipment at the radio station, which is very convenient, but the only time I use it is when I do live music on-air , so if I can liquidate it, so much the better...it will put me that much closer to realizing my dream of owning furniture.

We had a really fun band in the studio last night, it was a family string-band (Mom,Dad and two daughters), they were joined by one of the daughter's students...all the women were barefoot and wearing short summer skirts, which added a nice visual element to what is usually a strictly audio experience...I watched with prurient interest as one girl's toes curled whenever she played her fiddle solos- most men would pay good money to spend two hours in a roomfull of toe-curling nubile fiddlers but I got to do it for free, so maybe things aren't so bad after all...

Stylin'

Me in Montana's Paradise Valley during my Rock Star days, circa 1990. Check out the shirt and matching boots! Stylish, eh?I'm holding my mother's cat, Goofy, and my mom and her lunatic ex-BF are in the background. My brother has the car, which is still running today.

In more recent news, I just got a call from a newish coffeehouse that is becoming one of Richmond's most happening indie music venues.
They need a soundman.
I need money.
We talk tonight.

Ideally, they'll let me design and install/upgrade the PA system (and hopefully lease some gear from me)...I'd like to hang some acoustic baffles from the ceiling and in the corners, which would make the metal box -I mean the concert room-sound much better. With luck, it could go full-time and would get me out of the office world...at worst, I'll pick up some extra cash by working nights. I might not be able to blog much though...if I am not around, don't worry, I'm just workin'...

Crowdpleaser

I couldn't understand a single word that the costumed monster on stage was saying. His voice was drowned out by squeals of high-pitched feedback that caused the crowd to cover their ears. The audience, which was loosely packed into some sort of huge convention-center exhibit hall, started trickling towards the exits. The monster saw this and he looked sad behind his mask. No one would hear his speech.

I turned to my beautiful blonde companion, "I will be right back."

"You'd better be", she laughed.

I climbed a riser and took to the stage. The monster handed me the microphone and shrugged...I traced the cable and found that it was plugged into a guitar amplifier which in turn was plugged into another amp, both of which looked as if they had been stored underwater for ten years.

"Dude, this is stupid." Why did I say stupid?

"Stupid?", responded the monster MC, "why did you say stupid?" He sounded hurt.

"Um, because it is", I said, unplugging the mic and inserting the cable into a PA mixer that I willed into sudden existence. "Try now."

"Test, 1-2-3." His voice was loud and clear. "Wow. Thanks." A cheer went up from the crowd.

The monster handed me a keycard and told me we could stay on the top floor as long as we wanted.

I returned to my companion and showed her the key. "We have a free room!" We kissed, hidden in the crowd, then found an elevator up to the top floor.

The room was white with red trim, rounded with shifting walls that were difficult to touch, they would draw back when approached, making the already spacious apartment larger. In the center of the room was a large round bed with red satin sheets...in the middle of the bed was a bubbling jacuzzi tub. It reminded me of a giant crimson bagel.

"I forgot my suitcase." Man, I'm a space cadet. I didn't even have a toothbrush with me.

My lover laughed. "I knew you'd forget." She produced a satchel from nowhere. Inside were several of my favorite t-shirts, my shaving stuff and a toothbrush. Digging further, I found a bag of special treats that I thought I'd left behind. She had remembered them. Awesome.

"Hey", I asked, "do you wanna try the tub?"

It looked warm.

*****************************
The pic is of my ex-roomate Dave, performing with his band, GWAR.Used without his permission, of course.

Catches .22 and .45

Much ado was recently made over the Supreme Court decision to lift Washington D.C.'s ban on handguns- perhaps it was all for naught...the new law went into effect this morning and almost nobody cared...three hours into the new era of legalized guns, only one person had bothered to show up to register their gun- the aptly-named Dick A. Heller, the same man who sued the District for the right to pack heat in the first place. He was turned away because he failed to bring his guns with him, apparently he was under the impression that he would be arrested for possessing an unregistered handgun. A D.C. police spokesperson assured him and others that this wasn't the case, but there is another catch, one that would put a smile on the face of Dick's namesake, Joseph Heller.

D.C. residents can only legally register guns that are purchased in their home District- and there are currently no licensed gun vendors in DC, so there can't be any legal sidearms. The police have granted a six-month amnesty period so that owners of formerly illegal weapons can register them, but said owners will have to submit their weapons for ballistic tests to determine if they have been used in unsolved crimes and , in addition, they will have to take a written gun-proficiency test (in my opinion, they should also have to pass a shooting test) and face the possibility that their handgun gets confiscated if it violates DC's still-intact ban on automatic weapons.

Not surprisingly, DC residents have overwhelmingly opted to keep their guns cocked, locked and illegal rather than submit to the labyrinthine registration requirements and somewhat counter-productive regulations.

The new law includes strict storage requirements that opponents of the handgun ban say violate the Supreme Court ruling.Gun owners must keep their pistols at home,unloaded and either disassembled or equipped with trigger locks.Weapons can only be loaded and used if the owner reasonably believes he or she is in imminent danger from an attacker in the home.

I understand the reasoning: it's not safe to leave loaded guns where kids can get to them. Duh.
But those regulations render the guns useless for self-defense purposes. Last night I saw what I thought was one of my cats on the windowsill- it turned out to be a stranger peeking into my living room! I (stupidly) rushed to the front door and tried to catch the peeper- who fled- and it wasn't until a minute later that it occurred to me that I was unarmed and could have been leaping into danger. The voyeur saw me coming, so it's very unlikely that he would have stood still long enough for me to unlock and load my pistol and shoot him through the open window-as it was, I didn't even have time to grab a sledgehammer. Luckily for me, peepers are not very brave and I didn't need a gun but if it had been a home invader, I wouldn't have had time for assembly and loading, I'd have been better off with a baseball bat- a good choice of weapon for a poor shot such as myself.



I don't scoff at the idea of having to kill someone inside my home. A couple of years ago, a business friend of mine -along with her husband and children- were tortured and murdered by home invaders inside their quiet suburban house in broad daylight - that murder changed something inside me. If I see someone I don't recognize in my house I will hurt them as badly as I can and ask questions later because there are situations in which you don't get a second chance...knowing my friend and her husband, I imagine that they tried to reason and plea with their killers and that, obviously, didn't work. I hate guns and I loathe violence, but I'm not a pacifist, so stay the fuck off of my porch unless I know you.



If you kill someone I know, don't expect me to hold a candle during your execution.



**************************************



MORE BAD NEWS



My Twin lives in Chicago and I sometimes entertain the idea of moving there- but it's getting very dangerous. Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich has just offered to bring the National Guard into urban Chicago to halt the epidemic of violent crime brewing there- one recent Chicago weekend saw 36 shootings, including nine murders, and Chicago Public Schools officials say that over two dozen students have been killed by guns since last September. Over two dozen kids...why hasn't that gotten any significant national coverage? I'm guessing that none of the victims were white and/or wealthy. Just a guess...

No Comment

My Husband Cheats On Me

I am starting to have serious misgivings about my marriage. For starters, I didn't even know I was hitched but my Gmail account insists that I am, and who am I to argue with Google? Honestly, I thought I'd lost most, if not all of my commitment phobias, but I must confess that I'm a little bit uncomfortable with being married to a man- not that I have anything against gay marriage ( I can't understand why it's a problem for certain people) but I'm not gay. I like women. A lot. Of this I am certain...so why is my husband cheating on me?

On the sidebar of my Gmail there is a bold advert :" Your Husband is Cheating on You!"...if you click on it, you will be taken to a website that advertises a product that you can install on the PC of your choice- it will then track every keystroke, every email, every website visit and chat activity- everything that is done on that computer- and report back to you. The company claims that this intrusive software is based on programs designed by our own National Security Agency and currently in use by dozens of Government and Law Enforcement Agencies, along with hundreds of businesses, probably including the one I work for...how very comforting.

I'm not a marriage expert but I imagine that if one has reached the point where one feels compelled to surreptitiously snoop one's partner's emails, then that relationship is already over and installing software is not going to save it...I'd say skip the spyware and go directly to a divorce attorney- you can find links on Gmail to discount annulments- you can even divorce on the "buddy system", saving a few bucks and paperwork headaches by seperating en masse.
(OK, I made that last bit up but it's probably true anyway)

The program also encourages parents to spy on their children "for safety", which I can understand to a degree, the web being lousy with human lice and all, but the ad also implies that you can monitor your teenager's drug use and sexual activity by eavesdropping on their emails and text messages. Why not just talk to your kid instead? My dad didn't do me a lot of favors growing up, but he did talk to me as an adult when I had my first serious girlfriend. He asked me what kind of contraception we were using ( a diaphragm in the pre-HIV era) and gave us a $10 weekly allowance to purchase the spermicidal cream for it...my girlfriend would then shoplift the goo and we'd spend the money on a dime bag of pot or a case of beer...I would have hated seeing that money squandered on a computer program.

I've been watching my teenage cousin try to lie his way out of various and sordid teen traumas and it's pretty obvious that most kids just can't grok the fact that their parents and adult relatives used to do exactly the same stuff and tell exactly the same lies as them- the first time I heard "I was just holding it for a friend", I doubled over with laughter, a guffaw that was enhanced by the buzz I had from "the friend's" weed. I didn't need a virtual polygraph to smell the lies on his breath. Nice try, kiddo...

The use of this software in a non-family setting disturbs me. I already know that the Feds record every single bit of data that passes through the internet, including digital phone lines and TV transmissions, but I (perhaps erroneously) rely on sheer volume to mask any errant rants on my part- but the workplace is much smaller and most IT workers seem to have entirely too much free time...blogging from work (which is the only time I have) has become my latest "risk-seeking" behavior- I miss the days when you actually had to do something fun in order to get in trouble at work- such as learning that the crawlspace above the removable ceiling panels is not such a great place to stash wayward undergarments and empty beer bottles, especially if your boss is a D.I.Y. guy who changes his own fluorescent tubes.

Yesterday, a woman I don't know accosted me at the tiny table that serves as my desk. She wanted to know what I was doing. I was printing PDF files and attaching them to invoices, pretty heady stuff...she wanted details:

"Show me how you do it", she said. I wanted to tell her that that was sorta personal and that I didn't know her that well, but she indicated that she meant how I do my paperwork.

"Um, I use the mouse to move the cursor over this link here- then I click it and it prints out right here...then I staple the printout to this yellow sheet of paper and add it to the 'done' pile."

"So you use a stapler. I see." She sees? Sees what? Is she dense or is she just fucking with me?

"Well", I elaborated, "if it's a particulary large file, I will use a binder clip. Or even a rubber band."

"A binder clip," she mused," do you have a box of them?"

"Yes. I keep them with my rubber bands", I added, hoping to fend off the inevitable next question.

"So. You have plenty of rubber bands." It was a statement and not an especially bright one.

"Yes. Plenty."

"I need to use your phone."

"OK." Why? Doesn't your cubicle come with telephone service?

"Hello? It's me. Call me when you get this."
WTF? Why is she making nonsense calls on my phone?

She returned later in the day. I had a sandwich and a coffee on my desk.

"Are you eating lunch?"

"Noommph", I replied, my mouth full of turkey sandwich.

"Are you busy?"

"Mmmmph."

"I need to use your phone again."

"Mppghhhdk."

She left the same insipid message as last time, probably on her own phone.

After she left, I tried hitting "redial" to find out who she had called. Redial is "inactive" on my phone, which puzzles me. If she returns, I think I will point out the software ad I mentioned above and tell her that it would be a lot easier for her to watch over my shoulder if she did it from somewhere else using a computer...perhaps I could affix UPC codes to my staples and binder clips and she could use second-hand NSA technology to stay abreast of my fastener supplies. Or I could post the number of clips, staples and bands used on Outlook and send her hourly updates...heck, I could even use my PC to email building services and find out what the fuck is wrong with her telephone that compels her to use mine.

I'm feeling very helpful today.

Too Much Fun (Extended Dance Mix)

Have I mentioned how much I love live radio? Being a DJ/Engineer/Producer is a dream come true- I enjoy it so much that I'd do it for free...oh, right. I do do it for free.


Saturday I had two shows as DJ and a third as Engineer/Producer- my stalwart DJs Phil and CC had an amazing musical guest, Gull (aka Nate), a one-man band unlike anything I'd ever run sound for... dude played guitar with his left hand, drums with his right hand and feet and 'sang' muffled and ominous-sounding verbalisms into a microphone that he had placed into the piehole of a handmade serial-killeresque mask...he totally rocked the house, playing funky, pounding beats while riffing bass lines and melodies with an awe-inspiring one-handed guitar technique that reminded me of Robert Fripp playing Van Halen...or maybe the other way around. In any case, I enjoyed the heck out of it - and Nate had a great time too! Our music studio is a homey, funky place to play and Gull was right at home ( pics by Phil and/or Wendy).

I got a phone call from my blogpal Jackie Sue ( who is feeling much better) and when I got home I had a wonderful email from Whim, whose capricious signal had allowed her to hear most of my shows, including the songs that I played for her...sigh.

What a great day it was.

The New Breakfast Snob, July 12 2008 1-3 pm


Flogging Molly- Devil's Dance Floor

Richard Thompson- Walking Through a Wasted Land

Bob Dylan- Maggie's Farm

Captain Beefheart- Same Old Blues

Atomic Rooster- All Across The Country

Taj Mahal- Leaving Trunk
Taj played in Fallentown Sunday night. I had the trots and missed it.

Garbage- Push It
Whim has implied that I have the hots for Shirley Manson...she, as usual, is correct.

The Sort- Mean Nouns
Local band- grammatically correct pop-metal. I like!

Sleater-Kinney- God is a Number
The Twin gave me this CD. Girls rock!

Curtis Mayfield- Get Down

Funkadelic- Good to Your Earhole

The Band- Don't Do It

Rare Earth- What'd I Say?

Led Zeppelin- I Can't Quit You Babe
Did I call you "babe" on the air? I did? Oh, well...I'm blushing here...

Michelle Malone- Grace

The Beatles- Yer Blues

Jefferson Airplane- Martha

Kanter/Slick/Frieberg- Sketches of China

Leo Kottke- Pepe Hush

Cursive- Into the Fold

Everclear- Father of Mine

The Frames- Revelate(live)

Elvis Costello & Imposters- Stella Hurt

Damien Dempsey -Your Pretty Smile
For Whim.

801 Live- You Really Got Me
Which is why I can't quit you. Babe.

Crack the Sky- Suspicion
C the S should have been huge... I loved them in Baltimore...sigh.


SONGS FROM THE BIG HAIR, JULY 12, 2008 3-5 PM


Alice Cooper- (We are all) Clones

Replacements- Go

The Damned- Street of Dreams

Robyn Hitchcock- How Do You Work This Thing?

Adam Ant- Goody Two Shoes
Good answer!

Pretty Things- Bitter End

Klark Kent -Don't Care

Meat Puppets- Up on the Sun

Red Hot Chili Peppers- Behind the Sun

Dream Syndicate- That's What You Always Say

Joe Jackson- Survival

Pere Ubu- Fire

10,000 Maniacs- Scorpio Rising

Eurythmics- Missionary Man

Sugarcubes- I'm Hungry

Missing Persons- Mental Hopscotch

David Lindley & El Rayo X- Poppa was Rolling Stone

Suzanne Vega- Left of Center

Kate Bush- Experiment IV

Stranglers- Let Me Down Easy

Magazine - This Poison

Cocteau Twins- Pitch the Baby

Elvis Costello- The Greatest Thing
There is a little book with this title...

Jim Carroll Band- The People Who Died

Minutemen- Jesus and Tequila

Devo - Workin' in Coal Mine

Oingo Boingo- Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me
Not exactly true.... Sunday and Monday were a little rough. I'll spare the details.

Squeeze- Slap and Tickle
Sparing the details...

King Crimson- Elephant Talk
I like making elephant noises. Eeeeraaooowwww!

English Beat- Mirror in the Bathroom


Well, I'm back at work and demands are being made (and ignored). I'd better get on it. Yeah...it sure is fun being a famous file clerk.

A Late Thanks

Shortly before I left on my recent trip to meet my very special friend Whim, I recieved a package from my very good friend Jackie Sue- it contained an assortment of items representative of West, Texas, a place that Jackie Sue has been bringing to virtual life on her blog for as long as I have been reading it, which is a long time. If you have followed her posts, you will have heard her sing the praises of 'Dublin Dr. Pepper', an elixir that is widely regarded as the Holy Grail of Dr. Pepper for those inclined to think of soda pop in spiritual terms...well, I now have my very own bottle of this sought-after beverage! A big , belated thanks to JS for that...and the t-shirt, book bag, candle, seasonings and other goodies!
Note: JS is feeling a bit of pain at this time, so pop on by her blog and wish her well. It's good for your karma.

Speaking of good karma, the package was part of some sort of meme...I am not very good at memes but I think the gist was this: You get something nice and then you give something nice to someone else- I might be missing the details but the basic idea is rock-solid, eh?
On my trip to WhimLand (TM) I brought a few goodies with me and I left with much more than that, so I suppose the karmic wheels are still turning...I just filled my workplace PC with 20 hours of music, much of it courtesy of Whim and I gotta say that there isn't much that makes me happier than a buttload of new music to listen to, especially while I languish in fileroom limbo with little else to do but surf the Intertube and rock out.

Speaking of rocking out, tomorrow brings me a triple-shot of radio shows:

- First, I have my regular Saturday show, The New Breakfast Snob, airing from 1-3 pm EST
(link on sidebar)
-Then I'll be hosting our weekly 80's show, Songs from the Big Hair, from 3-5 pm EST.
- After that, I'll be switching hats and playing Engineer and Producer while DJ Phil ( aka 'Cotton' Dick Clinton) hosts our local music show, River City Limits- he will have a live band ( ?) in the house and I'll be running the technical bits of their performance...I have quite a bit of live radio music this month and will try to plug them as they come up- there really are some good bands in Fallentown...it's a cyclical scene and it seems to be in a 'up' swing at the moment. I wish I could remember the name of tomorrows band...I'm a talented Geezer but my memory-bone is a bit weak at times. Tsk.

Once again, the job I've been pursuing has promised to give me a decision today- this will be the third time that I've been told I will hear from them so I'm taking my salt grains (thanks to JS for the sea salt!) as I wait in trembly anticipation.

Trembly anticipation...is it Labor Day weekend yet? I sure could use a vacation. A nice long, relaxing getway...yeah, yeah, the world is a pinched and swirling loaf but it's not all bad.

Not at all...good gravy, I'd forgotten what an awesome guitarist David Lindley is...stay tuned!

The United States Constitution: R.I.P.

Can someone please explain why the Second Amendment is treated as sacrosanct while the Fourth Amendment is treated as toilet paper?



Thanks to recent court decisions -starting with an extremely ideological misinterpretation of the 2nd Amendment by the Supreme Court- we now have the freedom to carry concealed weapons into the country's busiest airport...if you think air travel is stressful, pack a gun. When your temper flares and your frustration level rises, you can stroke the bulge in your pocket or purse and think calming thoughts of murder...me, I'll feel much safer knowing that I am surrounded by untrained, stressed-out wahoo civilians carrying lethal weapons...what could possibly go wrong?

Meanwhile, Congress ( hey Obama, WTF are you thinking?) has decided that the Fourth Amendment ( the one that prevents the Gubbermint from illegally searching and seizing your personal property ) is no longer needed- the Government can instruct the telecommunications companies to monitor and record every word of your telephone and Internet communications and turn it over to Federal alphabet agencies without probable cause or search warrants- you are guilty until proven otherwise. If you aren't happy with that, tough luck...Congress has granted the telecom giants a blanket immunity from citizen lawsuits- in other words, the White House is protecting AT&T from you, not the other way around. It's a banner day for lobbyists.

Habeas Corpus? Who needs it?

Brainwashed devotees of GOP fascism ( aka Dittoheads) say: "If you aren't doing anything wrong, why are you afraid of the Government?"
Interestingly, these same doctrine-slaves also claim that they need their handguns in order to protect themselves from intrusion by the same Gubbermint that they have nothing to fear from...somehow this makes sense to people who think Rush Limbaugh has credibility. I am not one of those people.

How about that Turdblossom? Karl (Turdblossom) Rove has just thumbed his nose at the U.S. Congress, declaring himself to be above the law, Rove failed to appear for a Judiciary hearing this morning, ignoring a Congressional subpoena...Rove claims that:

- He didn't have any conversations with the White House regarding the partisan abuse of the Justice Department -targeting Democratic leaders for investigation, quashing investigations of Republicans and rejecting qualified DoJ applicants due to political affiliation, for example.

- He can exercise Executive Privilege for conversations that he never had, using his status as a former White House aide to exempt himself from appearing in front of Congress, despite the fact that there is no legal precedent or foundation for his assertion...hey Karl, if you don't have anything to hide, why are you afraid to testify?
Sadly, there is nobody around to hold him accountable-the Democrats stubbornly refuse to do their job, so Turdblossom is unlikely to face any repercussions for his flagrant contempt of American Law. In fact, he has a lucrative gig as a professional liar at Fox News and it's unlikely he'll lose it just because he's a criminal. I see a raise and a book deal...

I recently got a summons for jury duty. I learned that it pays $30 a day and that my employer( a staffing agency) will not compensate me for time missed- in fact, I may very well lose my job if I am selected to serve. I'm hovering on the brink of financial annihilation and losing my pathetic job would place an immense personal strain on me...I called the City to ask about an exception due to economic hardship and was told "no" and that I would be prosecuted "to the fullest extent of the law" should I fail to appear- I could face fines and even jail-time...unlike Turdblossom, I am not above the law, even if it means that I wind up sleeping in a dumpster behind the Courthouse.
I'm not very happy about that.

I am happy at the thought of visiting Whim again. I already miss her terribly and have been looking at travel alternatives- the highway trip costs $200 in gas( nearly seven days worth of Jury Duty), which wouldn't seem like a great deal of money except for the fact that I am only earning $10 an hour- down from my year 2000 high of $25. Lucky for me, the price of living has fallen by 65% to match my dwindling earnings...except for gas, rent, food, clothing and utilities, that is...in fact, just about the only things cheaper now than in 2000 are cocaine and heroin .
I haven't priced guns, but I imagine that they are as cheap as they are plentiful.

I tried several on-line travel discounters and found that a round-trip plane ticket from my city to hers will set me back anywhere from $650 to $900 dollars -with the added bonus of taking longer than the road ! ( I'd have to go to Boston, Charlotte and/or the gun-happy Atlanta airport as part of the trip)...for that sum, we could both fly from D.C. to London and back...hey, there's a thought...
There is no train service available at all. This might be a good time to consider revitalizing Amtrak- fuel is NOT going to get significantly cheaper, ever, so we might as well deal with it and overhaul our transit infrastructure- holding my breath, I am.

There is some hope. I have a couple prospects for "real" jobs- if I get a "real" job, I won't have to worry about losing it over a stint on Jury Duty...and $200 will no longer seem such a princely sum. There's also Health Insurance on the table, something that I haven't had for a long,long time. Due to my medical history, it would cost over $25k per year to self-insure, which is considerably more than I earn in a year at the current temp job...of course,I'm confident that the next President will fix our healthcare system as promised, yeah... that will happen, suuure...christ, am I turning blue yet?

Return of the Rat

Stairs.

I have been here before.

For the second time I find myself surrounded by stairs, up, down, sideways, there is no direction- or perhaps there is every direction- only hard , white, shadowless steps spiraling into the shifting distance, outlined with black stripes and handrails. It is silent but I can sense an echo nonetheless; I bet drums would sound really good if they were recorded here, I think stupidly.

My musing is answered by the gentle padding of footsteps and the whispering rustle of soft cloth as it glides across the endless stairs. I turn around and see what I expect to see- a human-sized grey rat, walking upright and clad in a white satin robe, the left sleeve rolled up and pinned at the shoulder. It's eyes appear black at first glance but as it nears me I see that they are of the deepest brown, there is an undeniable intelligence buried there and it is through those eyes that it speaks to me.

"You came back", intones the creature matter-of-factly.

"Well, yeah," I reply, " I'm not sure why but yeah...I'm back."

"Look at me", it commands," you know me."

I obey. I notice that my interlocutor has only one ear, where the left ear should be there is only a dark, puckered hole. I have seen this rat before.

When I was in my early twenties I took a job as a short-order cook at a corner bar. Circumstances had led me to be without a home, so my boss allowed me and my friend Ron ( the dishwasher) to live in the storerooms above the restaurant. Ron kept a pair of rats in an aquarium inside his room and one day the pregnant female escaped. A few days afterward, I was downstairs in the kitchen , preparing pizzas for drunken yuppies when I heard a faint squealing sound above the roar of the exhaust fan. I turned off the fan and tracked down the sound...it was coming from the pizza oven. The top of the oven.

Standing on a pickle bucket, I looked there and saw two tiny, hairless pink blobs on the hot metal edge. There was a terrible sizzling sound mingled with the high pitched squealing and I realized that the baby rodents were being cooked alive. I scooped the pair into the palm of my hand , stepped down and ran cold water over a dish towel. I placed the infants on the wet cloth and folded it over their tiny bodies...one of them was missing two legs. It was motionless and silent but the second one writhed and cried a tiny cry of pain and fear...it's eyes were not even open yet and it was already lost. I carefully covered it , hiding it from the customers as I walked through the bar and up the stairs to the room where Ron lived. Ron had just captured the mother, she had returned to her food dish and he had snared her while she was trying to get back inside the aquarium.

" Ron! I found these. They fell out of a hole in the ceiling and landed on the oven. I think one is dead but the other is still moving...it's lost an ear, a leg and it's tail..."

"Shit!", said Ron, examining the poor animals, " they are too young to have tails yet but the leg is gone for sure...and this one isn't going to make it at all." He placed the two blobs into the glass cage with the mother...she ate the dead one but groomed and nursed the other one and it survived and grew into adulthood, missing one foreleg and one ear. It never did grow a tail.

I remember this as I study my furry companion. I have seen this rat before.

"You have grown," I state at last.

"Yes."

"I saw you last week. I was here."

"Yes."

"You went somewhere the last time. I thought you went to Rat Heaven. I had a guide then but I can't remember what it told me..."

Rats cannot smile but this is no ordinary rat. It grins with those bottomless brown eyes as it speaks to me.

"Ha! 'Rat Heaven'...that's cute. There is no such thing, there is only here."

"Oh. Right.Sorry."

"Please. Don't apologize. I like it here. It suits me."

The eyes tell me that this is true. Part of me wishes that there was such a place as Rat Heaven and as that thought passes through me I understand that there is.

"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there", I venture," I think you are so close to the tree that you can't see the branches. These stairs are limbs of that tree." How did I know that?

"Ah. That is interesting but it is not why I'm here."

"Um, Ok. Why are you here?"

"To thank you."

"Thank me? What for?"

"You saved my life. I was burning and you rescued me. My children and my children's children thank you."

"Um, don't take offense but I didn't really think about it that way. Actually, I thought the whole thing was kind of..." I grasp for words.

"Grotesque?"

"Well, yeah. No offense."

"None taken. Honestly, it was much worse from my perspective."

"Yeah, I can see that. Anyway, I'm glad you made it but you don't need to thank me, I just did what anyone would do and besides, you are just a rat. No offense."

The eyes grinned wider now.

" Ha! 'Just a rat'. That's a good one. It used to be true, you know."

"What are you then? A djinni? I could use a djinni right now. I have wishes."

"No...I have no wishes to grant. You have to do that yourself. I just wanted you to know that I am here and that I am grateful for what you did."

"But", I protest weakly," I didn't do anything. You got lucky is all."

"Luck", said the rat," is a joke and it is seldom funny. It was love that saved me."

"I don't love rats."

"I am not a rat."

"I don't understand."

"No one does but everyone will. When you find the answer I will ask the question."

"Now I really don't understand."

The eyes change color slightly, lighter, darker, lighter, shadows moving inside shadows. The unseen smile grows warm and friendly.

"You don't need to understand. Just know that I love you."

"Ah...OK. But you are just a..."

"No."

"I think that I have a lot to learn."

"Yes. Yes, you do. You will. Now go."

I went.

Back Home

My eyes teared up as I pulled out of Whim's driveway yesterday afternoon and now, barely 24 hours later, I already miss her terribly. Our all-too-short time together was wonderful, it was one of those incredibly rare moments when the reality lives up to the fantasy and I never wanted it to end, but alas, it had to...for now, anyway.

My heart, my mind, my soul and my body have been restored in ways that I wasn't aware were possible and I will cherish the memories of my time with her as long as I live...Whim has posted a brief summary of my visit on her blog ( I am warm and fuzzy when I think of all the heartfelt good wishes left by her readers and friends, just as I am when I read the ones left here) so I will recount a strange and marvelously surprising moment I had shortly after returning to my empty, Whim-less apartment .

The drive home was harrowing, at times downright terrifying...I hit one of the heaviest thunderstorms I have ever seen and that storm seemed to follow my car for over a hundred miles- I desperately wanted to find an exit and sit it out, but I couldn't even see the highway signs, it was all I could do to follow the taillights ahead of me and hope that they could see the road...eventually, I did pull over and wait a while, but as soon as I got back on the road I ran into the storm again...I will get through this, I thought. I did.

When I finally arrived at home I was greeted by the smell of unhappy cats...I was too tired and happy to get mad or disgusted though...after calling my sweetie to let her know I was OK, I set about cleaning and catching up on my messages and emails...I had no pressing emails, just a few phone messages, one of which threatened to disrupt my exhausted euphoric state- it was from my father.

On one hand, I was glad to hear his voice- he never did return the call I made on Father's Day and I -as is so often the case- was not sure if he was still alive. On the other hand, I expected him to have drunken, hateful words.
His quaky message said he tried to listen to my radio show but the DJ filling in for me announced that I was out of town...something in my dad's drunken, recorded voice seemed annoyed that I would leave town, which is typical of him...rarely has he ever shown support or approval for anything I do, in fact, he has a way of tearing down everything I do; no matter how old I get, my father will always know exactly how to wound me with words, spoken and otherwise, so it was with mixed feelings that I returned his call. Perhaps he won't answer, I thought, that would make this easier.

He answered on the second ring, his voice registering his besotted condition. Oh fuck, here we go...

He told me that he had talked to the Twin and been filled in on my short vacation plans. How did it go, he asked.

"It was great", I said. "I wish I was still there". Truer words have never passed my lips.

"So she wasn't a psycho, she didn't try to tie you up and keep you hostage or anything", asked Dad in his typically boorish, drunken manner. I bit my tongue and tried to be polite.

"Uh, no. I already knew her very well and I wasn't worried about that", I replied. My dad doesn't really know about my blog-life (or my real one, for that matter) and he has a somewhat dated view on how 'virtual' friendships work. ( I wish he'd stop drinking and start blogging, but later for that).
I braced myself for the inevitable hostile sarcasm and insults.

"So tell me about her."

And I did. I was surprised as I heard myself speak, I had an endless supply of good things to say and I seldom have anything good to say when I'm talking to my father. When I was done, I paused and waited for him to rip my giddy, exhausted babblings to shreds. He didn't.

My father is a drunk and a mean one to boot. He knows no joy and at times he seems to take pleasure in the failings and sufferings of others, his children being no exception...but this was different. He listened as I rambled on about the limitless virtues and wonders of my friend and lover, about my happiness and how good my time with her was...when he did speak, it was to ask questions- nice questions- about her. I found that I really wanted to talk to my father about her, I wanted him to know how I felt. Our tiny, decimated family has been without any sort of happiness for years and that needs to change. I want the sorrow to end.

"You sound happy", observed my father.

"I am. I'm so tired that I can barely think or talk, but I'm very happy." I was sure he was getting ready to tell me why I shouldn't be happy but he didn't do that.

"I'm really glad it worked out," he said, catching me off-guard, " I'm happy just listening to you talk." Was he crying? He was.

I have told Whim that there is something powerful and magical about her and that is certainly true- my words of her were enough to make my father happy for me.
I can't remember the last time- there may not be one- that my father was happy for me. After I hung up the phone I cried sweet tears and it felt good. I know that I have the capacity to love and be loved, to feel joy in the happiness of those I care about, but I thought my father lacked (or had lost) that basic human ability. He hasn't, not entirely. When he said he was happy for me I could tell he meant it.
He even asked me about my plans for the future. It's far too soon to go there, but he offered to help me if I needed it and his offer made me feel good about him, which is something I didn't know I could feel.

I went to sleep alone but not alone. I have joy in my heart and that is a feeling that I never wish to lose. I need that.
I want life to be good and it is.

Thank you.

Lift the Veil

Not long ago I was feeling oddly sad for no apparent reason. No, not sad…I don’t have a word for how I felt…blank? Hollow? I was drained physically and my thoughts were jumbled and confused. A week before, I had been in an unusually happy mood and nothing had changed; I was at a loss to explain or understand this sudden shift.

I had planned on calling a friend of mine that evening, but I was having second thoughts. I don’t want to be a downer, I thought, I shouldn’t inflict this weird mood on her.
I almost didn’t call. My instinct when confronted with unfamiliar feelings is to retreat, withdraw, pull back…I held the phone in my hand for a long time, pondering this.

Finally, I made the call, dialing one of the four numbers on my speed dial. My friend answered. She listened as I mumbled and stumbled my way through an attempt to explain what I didn’t understand…I have blown it, I thought, I should have kept this feeling to myself.

I can be remarkably stupid.

Instead of rejection, my friend offered compassion, caring and wisdom. It’s important, she said, to talk about your feelings, good or bad. She wanted me to open up. By fighting my instinct and making that call, I had done the right thing without even knowing it. Tears filled my eyes as I listened to this very important lesson. Tears, but not of sorrow.

To most people, it might seem obvious that it is important to talk about our feelings with the people we care about- but I’m not most people. I’m a recovering alcoholic and I spent the last few years of my drinking career learning how to blot out everything in my world. I was on a quest for the perfect numbness and I found it in the emergency room of a local hospital, nearly three years past.
I had to make a choice: Live or die. I chose to live, and so I did.

But that was only the beginning. During my binge-drinking years, I lost something crucial- or maybe I never had it- in any case, I have been slowly, (sometimes joyfully, sometimes not), slowly adjusting to experiencing emotions and there seems to be no end to the scars, wounds and skeletons that are surfacing. It can be terribly overwhelming.

My friend understands this, perhaps better than anyone I have talked with. She is no stranger to surviving and the aftermath of survival, her strength has been an anchor for me during some very trying times, her perspective and insights have been invaluable in ways I admittedly do not fully comprehend. To me, there are elements in her that seem almost magical; elements that make me want to put aside my fears, to be a fully-realized human being.

In the year and a half since an extremely intrusive and wholly unwelcome fellow blogger inadvertently led us into becoming steady pen pals, we have been sharing more and more of ourselves with each other; during my grandmother’s long and excruciatingly painful death, my friend became an integral part of my support system and has been there ever since. It was a heavy load and she accepted it without complaint…in fact, it seemed so natural that only now, months later, do I realize what an important gift she was giving me, only now am I starting to understand that I, in turn, am learning how to return the simple, priceless human gift of love.

In the months following my grandmother’s death, the communication between my friend and me gradually went from containing the occasional flirty moment to becoming decidedly seductive. I’ll spare you the details…as my friend says on her blog, if I had witnessed two of my friends carrying on like my friend and I have been doing, I’d be embarrassed for them.

Well.

In a matter of hours I will be on the road and my friend’s home will be my destination. I long to hold her, to…

Well.

Beyond the immediate, neither one of us knows what will happen next… we have talked at length about what is important to us and we agree that our friendship must be preserved before all else, but we have allowed for the possibility that something greater may arise. I didn’t think I was capable of the necessary intimacy to discuss these things in a frank and forthright manner, but my friend has a way of bringing out the good in me without my immediate notice. Our relationship is natural, comfortable and reassuring- it has been effecting a slow, positive but gradual change in both of us, I think. I am not one to put much stock in fate or pre-destination, but in this case it seems as if we are being drawn together for our mutual benefit and well-being.

She wants me to come to her and so I shall, because I desperately want to be with her. As I write this, I am still in somewhat of a funk, but when I think of the friend that awaits me, I feel a spark of life, something stirs inside me and that something is good. It’s something I wanted but didn’t know how to look for and it turns out that I didn’t have to- it found me. It found us and we aren’t questioning it, we are accepting it and, in turn, accepting each other.

That is what friends are for.

Escape Plan

I haven't had a "fun" vacation since the summer of 2006. That changes tomorrow.
In 24 hours, I will be nudging my old Volvo onto the highway and making the first leg of a nearly 800-mile round trip that will bring me to the doorstep of a friend I know very well but have never met.
(Teaser: We both have posts scheduled to "auto-publish" tomorrow which will explain and reveal.)

I've been tinkering and fiddling with my car and it feels good when it's on the road, running smooth and quiet... it's ready for a road trip and so am I. I have arranged to leave work at noon tomorrow, I should be with my friend shortly after suppertime Thursday and I gotta say I'm excited, nervous and thrilled.

The last few days here have been hectic and hurried and I'm starting to get a little frayed around the edges so this trip comes at a perfect time- we have been planning it for just over a month and now the time is nigh, be still my heart...I have met a few of my blogpals in real-life and it's always been fun, but this time is a little different.

Who am I kidding ? This time is a lot different.

I have never done anything like this before. I have tried with other women but things just never seemed to work out...I spent last year and the first part of this year trying to deal with my grandmother's long, agonizing death- and the sudden, unexpected death of my cousin- during that time I also managed to lose my job, my insurance and my life savings, I wrecked my car...it really has been a bleak time but I have held onto what I need to hold onto ( my sobriety and my sanity) and I'm trying to learn how to let go of things that aren't helping me...I have a lifetime habit of sabotoging my own happiness and I need to break that pattern.

I can't change this alone but that's OK because I don't have to. For the first time in years, I will stop being alone and start learning how to be with someone . It's a new world and I'm running to it, not away from it.


Wish us luck.