The Bombs Drop, The Earth Shakes, We Move...

We do it to ourselves kid...we really do. Nobody else. We don't need anybody else to beat us down...because we do it to ourselves.

Jesus...what the fuck do we do now?

Imagine All The People

John Lennon died 25 years ago tonight. I know, you've heard that about a thousand times today. At least ten times that if you were listening to Q104.3 here in the NY area. I spent a good part of the day listening to John's music, and reflecting on his place in history, on the influence that his various works have had on my life. I know, I'm a school bus driver, what possible effect could The Beatles and John Lennon have on me?

The funny thing about it all is that John Lennon died 25 years ago tonight...four weeks later I was born. I wasn't even alive when John was, never had the opportunity to meet him, or hear something he said when he actually said it. Everything I know about John Lennon I know from history. In a lot of ways he's no more real to me than any other historical figure. He might as well be Napoleon, or even Jesus Christ.

And that's always been the category I would put him in. He was bigger than Napoleon and despite his boasts he was only almost bigger than Jesus Christ. I have to admit I probably would have been more of a Paul guy, but having never had the chance to see or hear the living breathing John I've always seemed to lean towards his side. It's like his being dead gave him the edge up.

I've always had this notion that the only fitting tribute to John would be an end to all war, all anger, all violence, and hate. The only fitting tribute to John would be some sort of unattainable perfection. But I suppose that would be a fitting tribute to anyone really.

I've always had another dream though, Paul singing Imagine along with John's vocal track and a live orchestra, millions of people watching and singing along. Would be something nice, something beautiful, nowhere near enough...but something grand nonetheless.

Lennon, like many great (and many greater) men before him, left us with a direction. An idea, somewhere to go, a place to move forward to. John left us with a goal, and a long way to go.

25 years since John died...and we haven't even started.

Coming Up For Air

I've never had the pleasure of slowly drowning, but I would assume this must be awful close to what it feels like.

It's been a weird couple days people, the kind that makes me want to say a lot of things here, but of which I can say very little.

Last night I went grocery shopping and amid the myriads of fruits and vegetables,crackers and pretzels, pickles and anchovies I found a few moments of relaxation. This peace was shattered when the kid at the checkout looks at my cart and asks "What are you making?" I hadn't picked a single thing that was a meal alone and even I couldn't think of how to combine these monstrosities into actual food.

I went to sleep early because I had to be back at work by 3 A.M. and haunted by odd dreams all night. One dream had a group of my high school friends in a room that resembled our cafeteria but instead featured a huge wall that was full of televisions which operated much like MySpace.Com. For some reason I kept wandering around asking "Don't I know you?" It was awkward.

This morning I drove some kids to school. There was a long twisted conversation. I'll share the highlight here and then I'm off to NYC to pick up some kids.

First Kid: You can't spoil your tarantula.
Second Kid: How do you spoil a tarantula?
First Kid: (Without missing a beat) Feed it too many crickets.

That's all kiddies, I'll be here all week, don't forget to tip your waiters.

I don't know how much more of this I can take.

But I've gotta try.

Strangeness

Once more the wicked whirlwind...

There's a certain sort of serendipity that's made so serendipitous by the fact that it never really happened at all. Take the last few days...

The other night I read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and fell asleep with great ease. I woke up the next morning, and after making the decision to go into work late (or later than usual) I sat on my couch flipping between Sesame Street and Garden State. I think it was the best stretch I've had in quite awhile.

Last night I grabbed a few drinks with the guys, played pool, mixed it up with a little Golden Tee, and just generally laughed our way through an otherwise ho-hum sort of night. I went home...and then I dreamed.

I don't know what did it last night, don't know if it was the strange combination of things over the last several nights or if I was just due.

It was freezing cold, but there were about six of us in a giant rectangular hot tub that seemed to twist and turn around the corners of a building. I couldn't really see the others, but the girl I was talking to was oddly familiar. The others voices were just noise but then somebody said something, and it bothered her. Before I could do anything she was standing up, a moment later I was watching as she stood in the falling snow and got dressed without drying off. I chased after her, the minute I stepped out of the water I was dry and dressed, and the voices from behind me were gone. I spun around, only to see the hot tub was gone, in fact everything was gone. There was a whole new building in its place.

"Did you see that?"

I turned to face her and she was looking at me oddly. She had a kitten on a leash and was now fully bundled up to protect against the cold.

"What?"

"What?"

I was confused.

"You don't know how much it took for me just to give you a chance."

It hurt me when she said that.

"I'm sorry."

She was crying.

"I miss you."

How could she miss me? I was standing right there, but as soon as she said it I knew it was true, I missed her too.

"I miss you."

She was shaking as she cried, I reached out to comfort her...and she was gone.

All that was left was a kitten playing in the snow, a moment later even that was lost.

A cloud passed over the moon and I was left cold and alone struck down by the morbidity of fright on a cold winter night in a place where moonlight freezes...

Save Tonight

It doesn't take much to save a good night in my book. Simple things will do it really.

By my watch I've got three minutes to save tonight.

I'm smiling...for no reason.

Might just be good enough.

Turvy

"Why do you ask Two Dogs Fucking?" -One of Jere's Infamous Punchlines

"I'm not a coward I've just never been tested." - The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

So I'm sitting at my desk just now pondering what on earth possessed me to buy the entire '90's One Hit Wonders collection off ITunes (Back Satan!) when I hear a voice say, "Chris, you've got to see this." I look up...because I know I'm alone in the office.

I get up and look all over to make sure I'm alone, and then I hear the voice again, "Chris, you've got to see this." Except now it's coming from behind me. The dogs start barking outside so I run (ok, lumber...) out to see what's going on. My dogs are on one side of the fence barking at two other dogs on the other side of the fence. Two dogs who are madly humping. And my dogs are jumping all over the place ridiculously excited. The two other dogs finish up, and run off down the street. My dogs barking at them as they go. That's when I notice the pair of seagulls circling over head.

Someone is laughing. No one is there.

"Baby I don't know where your going, but I sure wouldn't mind giving you a ride." - Laz Jones

"Rock on bus driver." - Laz Jones

Eh...Ok.

You know I always thought I'd get to work in the big city one day, just never thought it would be driving a bus.

We're so damn short people that I've inherited a troubled run from a driver who took a leave of absence, means I get to drive into downtown Manhattan twice a day.

I love the city.

I love driving in the city. When I drive a bus in New York I have a little game I like to play, it's called "I Don't Want To Hit Your Ass...But I Will." The premise is pretty simple, I don't want to hit your ass...but I will.

The average life expectancy in New York must be like 17 seconds (unless of course you have one of those stupid scooters and then you can just cut that in half, or if you're a tourist because then they let you live a few minutes longer so you can blow your cash on those little statues of the Empire State Building and coffe mugs that say I *Heart* NY). People just run into the middle of traffic, drive with no sense of order whatsoever,eat things from carts on street corners. I don't want to touch anything that gets sold from one of those carts, nevermind eat it, and I'll eat pretty much anything. Little kids on bicycles? Friggin' targets. I swear I saw this seven year old on a Schwinn swerving in and out of taxi cabs on Amsterdam Ave. this morning. Fuckin' retard had a helmet on. Sure his parents thought that was a sound investment, "Let's get little Stevie a shiny new bike helmet...and then throw his ass into the busiest streets this side of Trafalgar." Come on! You need the latest Batmobile just to get around safely in this city...forget the fucking bike helmet, how 'bout full body armor? Sure the helmet will help when the whinos start throwing glass bottles, but what good's it going to do when the crosstown squashes his ass?

Halloween...I love Halloween, it's my favorite holiday in my favorite month. Yesterday it just passed me by though. A day when grown men in costumes can simply wander the streets? In New York they just call that Monday.

I went to Best Buy the other night. Met the geekiest kid ever. He was just pacing the aisles like employees in the story tend to do, and he asked me if I had any questions. I was dumb enough to ask one. Talked to him for a good half hour about Xbox 360, I have no idea what the hell he was talking about. But I just keep nodding and smiling, kid seemed thrilled to have somebody to talk to. But he just keeps going, I keep trying to get away, but I want to be polite. And he just doesn't stop. My cell phone rang, I told him it was nice talkign to him, but I had to take the call. So he just stood there and waited! When I finished he goes, "So where were we?" The Twilight Zone perhaps? His manager walks by and checks to see if everythings ok, I'm trying to slip him a note saying "SEND HELP" but the kid just tells the guy "I'm just helping this customer." And keeps talking... It's like an episode of MTV's Boiling Points, but there is no point. I'm trying to be nice because this kid must be so bored and so lonely at this point that having somebody to talk to is the highlight of his day. Finally one of his co-workers notices and steps in. This very polite young lady walks over and literally takes the kid by the arm to say hello. This girl was kind of young, but pretty, and she's literally hanging on the kid to give me a chance to get away...AND HE SHRUGS HER OFF! Finally I've had it, I shake the kids hand, say thanks for all the help man but I really have got to be going and head for the check-out. He follows me for like three steps before giving up and going back to pacing the aisles. I felt really bad.

I don't talk to the kids on my busses much when I have to drive. But at the very least I say hello and goodbye. Girl gets on the bus yesterday morning, probably about seventeen years old, I say good morning...she says nothing. Goes to get off the bus, I say have a good day...she says nothing. Gets on this morning, I say good morning...she says nothing. Fucking kids. If I was ever that rude to anyone, I'd be completely embarassed for myself. At the very least you smile or nod, or give some sort of acknowledgement. No one deserves to be treated as if they aren't there...even me.

Anyhow...show tonight, going to be a good one. I mean how could it not be when Georgie boy found the one single solitary conservative Republican in New Jersey and named him to the friggin' Supreme Court. I'm fired up, rarin' to go.

You can't stop me...you can't even slow me down.

The Squid and The Whale

Don't think of anything. Just don't. Don't read anything, don't watch anything, don't do anything. Don't sing a few words from your favorite song, don't even whistle the tune. Just don't. When you have an idea, just don't do anything to interfere, until you have that idea down where you know you'll never lose it. Because once it's gone, it's gone.

I'm tired.

I don't really know if I love what I do, don't really know if I like who I am anymore. I've been tired before. Been scared and alone in the cold and the dark petrified of what's going to happen next. But mostly I've just been tired before.

I've never felt this way before though.

I've never had to forget about everything else before just so I could enjoy myself. I love to read, but most of the books I've read lately haven't been able to catch my fancy. I love movies, but anything I see for the first time now seems to be missing something. I love music, but can't seem to find too much that hits the exact right spot anymore. But tonight I forgot about everything else, and not in the normal put it out of your mind for now sort of way but in the classic Palomba forget about everything sort of way. The sort of way where everything but what you're doing really is gone.

It's a great sort of way.

It used to be easier.

But tonight I did it so that I could enjoy myself, so that I can sit in the darkened movie theater and watch a good movie, and laugh where I was supposed to laugh and feel sad where I was supposed to feel sad and connect with the characters everywhere I was supposed to make a connection. Tonight I let it all go...and enjoyed myself immensely.

But like I said it all used to be easier. Tonight as I drove back to the office it all started to drain back into me, bit by bit the horror returned.

Oddly enough it wasn't as bad as it sounds.

Instead of letting it get to me I just thought about something else.

I thought about saying, "I can't remember the things I thought about before I thought about the things I think about now." And I laughed at how true that was at the time.

I thought about all the things that I know. About all the things I wish I could show other people, even though I'm certain most of them know these things already. I thought about old friends, and new friends, and friends I've yet to meet.

I thought about writing something.

I thought about how I was going to die.

I remember thinking in college that I would have liked to go to high school at one of those fancy academies in New York, just because I thought it would be cool to see the city during my lunch or while I waited for a ride home. I remember thinking how cool it would be to be able to go to the museums everyday and see broadway plays and eat at fancy restaurants and all the other things which seem like they would be inevitable if I spent a lot of time in the city. I don't remember thinking this when I was in high school. I don't remember what I thought in high school.

I remember at DePaul all I really thought about was getting out of DePaul, and how the whole process was making me pretty miserable. But I also remember when I used to miss the bus, how I'd sit out front of the school leaning against the same tree everytime waiting for my mother to pick me up. I remember it was warm, and it felt good to be able to take my tie off and unbutton my collar. Sometimes I'd even roll up my pants till they were cuffed sloppily just below me knees. I'd sit there and play with a piece of grass, or a rock, or something simple because I didn't read much during this time, and although I'm sure it must have had one I don't actually ever recall being in DePaul's library. I know I must have been thinking of something during that time, but for the life of me I don't remember what.

I remember at Manchester, before I really made friends, I'd sit alone at lunch and try to ignore the older kids who would give me shit. There were a bunch of us who didn't really belong anywhere, and we'd all sit together. And even though we were allowed to sit wherever we wanted for some reason we'd all always sit in the same place, in the same order, and have the same exact conversation before drifting off into an uncomfortable silence. I must have been thinking something during all of this, but for the life of me...

I remember at Marist how I used how I used to take the bus home every weekend. It was a long rider so sometimes I would read on the bus, but usually I wouldn't, usually I'd just sit there, not talking to anyone, just waiting for my stop. I must have been thinking of something during that ride, but...

So right now I remember what I thought about when I couldn't remember what I was thinking about back then, but how long will that last? How long before I forget all that too?

There was a day where my life changed, where everything became different. But in reality so much is still exactly the same.

I've never woken up and thought, "I don't want to go to work." Never woke up and thought, "I hate my job." I usually just wake up and think, "There's work to be done."

Never before have I had to forget about everything just to enjoy myself though. That's not good it bothers me a bit...

There's so much going on in my head right now, so much spinning about tonight. About today really. I got more sleep today then I did in the past week combined. It's probably the longest I've slept in about a year. Still I woke up tired. Woke up beat.

I don't know what's going on, I don't know what's happening.

I just know I don't like it, and for a guy who is rarely disappointed in this world because he expects so very little from it and gets so very much, this could be a very bad thing.

The Creation of The World

"Ussher deduced that the first day of Creation began at nightfall preceding Sunday October 23, 4004 BC in the Proleptic Julian calendar, near the autumnal equinox, while Lightfoot similarly deduced that Creation began at nightfall near the autumnal equinox, but in the year 3929 BC." - Wikipedia, on Creation In The Usher-Lightfoor Calendar

Hello All...

It's the middle of the night and I'm sitting at the desk in my office with all the lights off and the heat not on. It's cold and dark...because I made it that way.

I've been thinking that if I'm lucky enough to grow old and gray that I may just look back on October 2005 and say that I've never had to work as hard for nothing as I have in this month. It won't be the month that I was the busiest, it won't be the month that was the toughest, it won't be the month that was the worst. But it may just be the month I had to work the hardest in. I'll have logged well over 400 hours this month, have slept very little, have seen my friends and family even less.

One year ago right this second I was standing on a street corner in Philadelphia waiting in the cold to go to the lamest giant haunted prison I have ever been in.

The other night someone told me I took the easy way out. (Why is it that all too often when I use the phrase "Someone told me" that someone is Corey?) I disagreed, but I can see how someone may think that. They don't get what I'm trying to do, they don't know what I've gotten myself into. They can't see how far in over my head I am. They can't see how much I love it, and how afraid of it all I really am. It's not just him, it's everyone. I don't mind.

We talked about April 19th, 2004 a night on which nothing happened, but somehow a night that has shaped everything that has happened to me ever since. I don't pretend to be able to understand it, but somehow that night changed everything. It seems a little silly to say now, but until the next big thing happens that will remain the most important night of my life. It seems impossible to pin something so important down to just one night, but then again...

"Creation began at nightfall preceding Sunday October 23, 4004 BC..."

And if that's true, well then...

"So if this really is the 6,009th anniversary of the day the world was created (or pulled out of some pile of muck), then I say cheers to that, and hope that I may be one of the first to wish it many, many more." - T.O. Hob

Beginning

Smoke 'em if you got 'em kiddies, because Palomba's got his "A" game on and we're going to war...

Tonight. Tomorrow. Never.

There is no light. We Run On

Dirty Little Secrets: It Could Be Cancer

"You've gotta love days like this, if for no other reason than that no one else will." - T.O. Hob

"Hey, it could be worse. It could be cancer." - Palomba

Fantasy?

I waiver.

Mind Games. Bottle Rockets. Evil Pickle. Aflac.

Aflac girl called me the other day about the bill. If she wasn't drop dead gorgeous I would still be thrilled to hear from her. She has an amazing voice. Whenever she calls she says, "Hey Chris." in this elongated half lilting sing song sort of way with just enough huskiness to make it more than sweet, and just enough sweetness to make it irresistible. I'm not easily flustered, but I think I blush on the phone. This girl has her act down, she seriously has one of the three most beautiful voices I have ever heard (the others being the one that reminds me of tiny tinkling bells and which I will never hear again, and the other theo one with a soothing/saving quality with which she could say the most amazing things.) I'm seriously considering not paying next month's bill on time just so she has to call me...I wonder what she would sound like angry.

I can be such a perv.

In other news...I'm working on what's going to be my last work related entry. After this big one coming up there will be no more than a passing mention of work or the occasional work related anecdotes. No more rants. I've just had enough. Work has been hellacious lately, taking up 20 hour chunks of my day and leaving me with little time to even think of anything else. And my dad's becoming quite the asshole.

I just finished reading Sean Wilsey's memoir "Oh! The Glory of It All." and I have to say I was really impressed. By I also was fascinated by the way his family is both an extreme version and a watered down version of my family at the same time. That's sort of depressing when you stop and think about it.

It got me started on stories of my life again, not a memoir, or even a complete story...just something. I never can figure out what it will be.

There's a lot of stories I want to tell again, honest little blobs of nothing that I almost obsessively think I can turn into something. Something real. Something truthful. Something interesting. I don't know.

We will see.

That Would Have Been A Whole Lot Cooler If It Had Worked

Ain't things supposed to be getting easier?

"Yeah you got it tough kid. But not like I had it tough. When I was a babe my mother used to beat me with her hand for crying, then she'd beat me with a stick for hurting her hand." - Laz Jones

There was an older woman in the room and she was screaming at us. The pretty young woman to my left was on the verge of tears and I kept reaching out and rubbing her back to calm her down. I kind of liked it though and I felt dirty for wanting to protect her. I remember how warm she was. The little kid on my other side was amazingly calm, glaring at the older woman. I think it was his mother. I decided she might have been pretty a dozen years ago, and still she was a handsome woman. But she was angry in an ugly way. Most of her anger was directed at the pretty young woman, but still she had enough for me and the little kid. I wanted to punch her, but my middle finger was broken and I couldn't seem to get the momentum going to swing at her. Besides I liked rubbing the pretty girls back with my right hand, and the little kid had a patient but strong deathgrip on my left arm. The older woman moved and the pretty young woman bolted for the window, throwing herself through it and plummeting towards the ground. The older woman shrieked as I thundered past her, lunging half out the window to try and grab the pretty young woman. I couldn't reach. That didn't stop the little kid though, still gripping my arm he launched himself over me and out the window. He grabbed her. But she didn't want to be grabbed so she kicked and screamed, the little kid held on. The older woman threw herself on top of me and I couldn't tell if she was trying to hurt me or help me. Either way she was heavier then I would have expected, and just as warm as the pretty young woman. There was a noise. We all stopped squirming. Then the building came down.


I walked into the bar at the end of Velvet Goldmine and Ewan McGregor was sitting at his table. He was dressed like his character in the movie sitting in a scene of the movie, but he wasn't in the movie, so he was Ewan not Kurt. I said, "I know who you are." But he said I didn't. I argued with him, "Just say it. Just say who you are." But he wouldn't. The waiter brought him a pint of dark beer. He brought me an orange soda. This shook my confidence. But I wouldn't relent. Finally I stood up from the table, not angry, but loud and said..."Just say it, just say who you are. I already know who you are." Without ever bothering to look at me he took a sip of his dark pint of beer and said over the top of his glass, "You don't even know who you are." With that the Ewan/Kurt beast put me in my place.

I was sitting in a familiar place with a familiar group of people whose names I don't all know, when an old friend showed up. He walked into the room like he'd never left, accompanied by a swoosh of brown off to his side. I was glad, although not altogether surprised, to see him. But I could see him. He acknowledged me, but never really talked to me. Just sort of went about this thing as if he'd never left. But there was something strange. I looked over my shoulder. Standing there, dressed all in brown, was a girl I used to know. She had her back to me but I still recognized her (not in a pervy sort of way either, just in a way that everything about her was familiar). I wanted to say hello, but I couldn't. Wanted to chat a bit, but my voice wouldn't cooperate. Everyone else was gathering off to one side of the room. I was confused, but I still felt good. Then the lights went out and I was lost in the darkness.

There is no light...we run on.

Climbing The Hill

"Open doors would soon be shut
So I went from day to day
Tho' my life was in a rut
"Till I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut
I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart going boom boom boom
"Hey" he said "Grab your things
I've come to take you home." - Peter Gabriel, Solsbury Hill

"What do I do? What do I do ?!? You want a paycheck this week? Yes? That's what I fucking do." - Palomba

"You can't stop me. You can't even slow me down." - T.O. Hob

It wasn't one year to the day, but it was roughly a year give or take. I said things. Don't know if I should have. I was ashamed at the time. Not anymore. Not...any...more.

What is it about being a kid right out of college?

The other night I had a dream. It was my last week of college. I was surrounded by all the people I'd come to know and love. We were all moving towards a single brilliant finale. There was no fear, no trepidation. There were no loose ends. Just an end. A beginning. So much happened in the dream that was exactly like real life. But for some reason it all just glowed a little bit more.

It wasn't nostalgia, it was understanding. Before I woke up that morning my mind raced through everything that has happened to me in the past year, and though it was all true to what happened to me, it just seemed...different. It was like I was watching a movie version of my life, or reading a story that had been written once I was gone. It wasn't the benefit of hindsight, it was the fruition of my foresight that got to me. I knew how special everything was when it was going on, and I was careful to enjoy it without getting too overwhelmed. But in the dream I was overwhelmed...and it was amazing.

Then it all started popping. It was like little lights going off under my eyelids and I swear I was "awake" for at least part of it. But I was seeing things. It was like I was watching other people's lives. People I know...or knew. People I've left behind (or have they left me?). It was interesting, and comforting, and made me just a little bit sad. To see so many people I've loved doing so many different things. Some of them were doing great, others not so much. But the common factor was that they were all doing it without me. I missed being a part of all their lives, but more importantly I missed them. All of them.

When I woke up that morning I was feverish. Could barely open my mouth. Everything hurt. I was struggling to get out of bed, but when I finally made it I couldn't walk, so I just slouched down against my bedroom wall and threw my Ipod on. I spent the rest of the day collapsed there listening to some of my favorite music.

Many hours later I ran into a stretch of my favorite songs, most of which are tied with great moments or times in my life. They kind of put the piss and vinegar back in me, and suddenly I was up. And moving...and practically bouncing off the walls.

No matter how they were doing I'd at least seen that everyone else was ok. And I was ok. Everything was ok. I'd gone through a year in only a few minutes and I'd spent most of a day struggling with it but when I finally reached the top...shit.

I mean, shit. I mean, Holy Fucking Shit.

It wasn't a breakthrough it wasn't the beginning or end of a chapter. It was just a friggin' fantastic way to spend a day. And despite being so beaten and battered that I'm practically dead...I feel fine.

I feel fine.

No...

I feel great.


With love and respect...

There is no light...we run on.

Not So Divine Intervention

"Bad is bad, and good is good. Certain kinds of good may be bad. But sometimes bad can be good. So really...it's all good." - Laz Jones, in Bootleg Italian Voltron v. The Dalai Lama

Things are getting pretty bad.

I have to do pretty much everything on my own at work right now, I never said I could do it all on my own, never said I wanted to. But by virtue of the fact that I am doing it all, I guess I can. I still don't want to.

My father was always the other way around. My father always said he could do it all. Always said he didn't need anyone else. He'd spit and scream and get all red in the face hollering about how he could do it all on his own and he'd really believe it right up until the point where you called him on it.

See the thing is that early on you'd be hard pressed to find a man who worked harder and took to things faster than my father. For all his stubborn and willful ignorance he was a pretty sharp tack. He wasn't the brightest guy in the world but he was willing to learn as long as it was on his terms. Some people find that admirable. He was succesful at it too. He didn't just work a bunch of jobs, he ran a bunch of businesses. Other people would trust him to run their places, even if he knew nothing about them. Pizza place? Sure why not? Ink factory? Sounds like fun. Tour buses? Guess so. Travel agency? Piece of cake.

And when he went out on his own things went just as well, albeit a little more slowly. Rental cars? So-So. Tour buses? Decent. Travel Agency? Ok. School buses? Bingo.

So next thing you know my father's a millionaire, all the while working his ass off, all the while thinking he could do it on his own as long as he never really had to. It worked for him because he worked for it.

This is a man who busted his ass his entire life.

He had some relaxation coming to him.

Only problem is that before he got there an affliction that strikes down many succesful men got to him. He began to believe the hype. It wasn't just that he could do it on his own anymore, it was that he should do it on his own. That he was better off without the help.

But at the same time, he forgot the only way in which he could do it on his own. He forgot about the hard work. It wasn't that he stopped working hard, it's that he began to assume that things would always work out, whether he worked hard for it or not. He stopped relying on ridiculous effort and began to rely on pure divinity.

There ain't nothing divine about this business.

So now that I'm the workhorse, my father can't figure out why it's taking so much to keep things afloat. He doesn't understand that for every burden I sucessfully shoulder he adds on two more. He thinks that simply because he says so that people will do what he wants, that his very voice can part traffic and strike down competition, that his unrelenting gaze can take the place of proper mechanical maintenance.

Thy will be done, no preparation necessary.

He just doesn't get it. Or maybe he does. Maybe it's all an act because he doesn't know what to do anymore.

He can probably keep the act up forever, question is: How long can I?

Bootleg Italian Voltron Vs. The Dalai Lama

"In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher." - The Dalai Lama

"Andiamo forza del voltron!" - Bootleg Italian Voltron (Roughly translated: "Let's Go Voltron Force!")

I think that sometimes you can take a new direction without ever really meaning too.

I don't know if that's what happened. I don't really know what the difference between today and yesterday was. Maybe it all started Sunday night. Maybe it all started before that, I don't know.

Some things are funny.

I know I bought The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy on DVD. I have no idea where it is. I really want to watch the movie so I might just have to go buy it again. Fuck.

Sunday morning we're broadcasting from the Dalai Lama's speech at Rutgers. I'm co-hosting with the new news director who is pretty good, but who doesn't have a deparment yet. Last night's show was awesome, but I don't know how the news department is going. They need people. I don't know what I can do to help. I always told Corey it would never be like the year we were there. I even said it then. I knew there was something special there, and that replicating it would be damn near impossible. We had such great people, such a great team. It's sad to see something you helped build up crumble, but it's great to know that you were a part of something special...and knew it early enough to appreciate it.

There's something about stories. We have so many. There are two types of stories you tell to people who were a part of them. The ones that start with "You remember the time that..." and the ones that don't...because you know there's no way they could ever forget.

Like Bootleg Italian Voltron, The Andre Agassi Pinata, The Four Inches, The Drunk Bus, The Stuff Yer Face Debacle...and so many more.

So many more...

"Sembrano diabolici, ma dopo che combattano Voltron che mighty potete portare ciò che resta la sede in una latta di rifiuti." - Bootleg Italian Voltron (Roughly Translated: "They look evil, but after they fight mighty Voltron you can bring what's left home in a trash can.")

"Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them." - The Dalai Lama

A Week's Worth of Worries

"I don't think that's a very good idea. You see, I'm very disappointing in person." - Palomba

Pt.1 - Trains

I didn't realize it till the other day, but not matter where I seem to move I'm never very far away from train tracks. There weren't any in North Haledon (little town's too prissy for that), but when I would stay with my father in Hawthorne there were. In Poughkeepsie the train line ran right next to my building, in fact (by sheer coincidence I'm sure) it ran right by all three of the freshman dorms and the trains passed by regularly (and loudly) at about 6:05 in the morning. In New Brunswick the trains were a little further away, but you could still hear them, and their tracks cut a neat little line across the city. In Fair Lawn my apartment was sandwiched between Route 208 and the Radburn Station, which made my complex a commuter haven (and ridiculously expensive) and which did me no good at all since I worked down the street. And now in Hawthorne my house is less than half a block from the same tracks my father's house was by. I knew they were there, but I didn't realize how familiar they would still sound. I haven't spent much time in my house since I moved in, but yesterday I was home for a bit, and I heard them. And I remembered them. I remembered the sounds.

Pt.2 - Dog Days

Work has been ridiculous. REE-DEEECK-U-LOSSS. These people turn every little thing into a catastrophe and they make the simplest thing into a major calamity. The other day I was in the middle of fifty things when the intercom went off. It was one of my mechanics telling me one of the other mechanics had been out by the dog cages and one of the dogs didn't look too good. I asked why they were playing with the dogs in the middle of the day and they didn't answer. A few minutes later a few of the drivers walked in and said they'd been talking to someone and they'd said that one of the dogs didn't look too good, he was laying on the ground and not moving. Then my secretary came in, said someone had just told her that the dog was just laying there with its eyes closed, not doing anything. I said I'd go take a look, but before I could the original mechanic walks in and goes, "Dog's just laying around with it's eyes closed not doing anything, I think there's something wrong." I said I was on it and dropped what I was doing to head out to the cage. When I got there, sure enough, the dog was curled up on its side with its eyes closed not really doing anything. I called his name, his ears perked up, his head shot up, and he bounced up off the ground and jumped against the side of the cage. He was yelping and running around just glad for a rare middle of the day visit. I laughed. A dog, laying in the shade, with it's eyes closed, not really doing anything...the son of a bitch was sleeping. There wasn't anything wrong with him, in fact everything must have seemed just right to him. As a side note when I came in this morning I could tell the dogs had been in the trailer, so I called my father and asked why. He says, "One of the mechanics said there was something wrong with him the other day so I thought I would let them inside." I thought that was funny until I found the little present they left me on the carpet in my office. Son of a bitch.

Pt. 3 - The Ride

I was driving to New Brunswick one night last week when the "Check Tires" light came on in my car. So I checked all the tires and made sure they were fine. I'm driving along and the "Check Gas Cap" light came on, so I checked the gas cap and it was fine. Then I'm driving along and the "Check Engine" light came on. I checked, the engine was there, that's about as far as I can go on that one. I have to get my car up to the dealer but I haven't had time, and with my warranty set to expire in a few miles I've decided to park the car until I know I can get it to the dealer. So I've been driving my pick-up truck for the past two weeks, and missing my car quite a bit.

"I need a girl. Not for sex, just so I have someone to go to the movies with and waste my money on." - Palomba

Pt. 3B-Someone Else's Ride

I was coming to work at 5:30 yesterday morning when I stumbled upon a car wrapped around a telephone pole. I hopped out only to find that the car was empty. I drove around for a bit, but couldn't find anyone that looked like they'd abandoned the car. I assumed whoever crashed the damn thing had fled. Maybe it was stolen, maybe they were stoned. But either way someone wrapped a car around a telephone pole and then just left. The cops drove by without even stopping. I don't know if I like working in a place like this.

Pt. 4- Play That Funky Music

Tonight is the first Youth Mass at St.Paul's. It will be an unmitigated disaster. I promise you this. I know things. I think it will go well enough, but they're expecting too much of it. I'm supposed to run the music. Maybe I'll replace the chants with Gwar. I would get a kick out of that. The things they trust me to do...

Pt.5 - Appearances

Someone keeps leaving bags of children's clothes on my porch. The night I moved in I found a foodtown bag with a jacket, a t-shirt, and a pair of shorts. Another night I found a bag with a few shirts and some socks in it. Two nights ago I came home only to find a blue book bag packed full of clothes sitting by my door. At first I thought it was meant for the people who used to live here, but they've been gone three weeks. Then I thought it might be for the neighbors, but they haven't said anything, and I'm not about to go knock on the door with a bag full of children't clothes and say, "For no explainable reason I have a bag of small children's clothes that I assure you have just been appearing on my doorstep which may or may not belong to the child you may or may not have." I can hear the sirens already. Hell, they can keep leaving the clothes as long as they don't start leaving the little kids.

Pt. 5 - Lost Fathers

I'm three episodes away from having watched the entire first season of Lost in the past 8 days. I think I really like that show. I'm terrible afraid they'll ruin it in Season 2. They're introducing new characters (hard to do for a show set on a "deserted" island), and there will be "major revelations". You're always worried about a show "jumping the shark", but in this case I'm just worried about the show becoming silly. I mean it's been halfway there since it started. Also, I'm beginning to realize that at it's core Lost is really just a show about fathers. Think about it. Jack has issues with his father, and becomes a sort of father figure to the people on the island. Locke was abandoned by his father only to meet up with him later in life, and then only to be viciously betrayed by him. Claire never mentions her father, but splits with the father of her soon to be baby. Charlie sort of assumes the role of "father" to Claire's baby, and in fact sometimes tries to protect Claire like a father would. Hurley's first spot of bad luck when he wins the lottery? He loses his grandfather who was like a father to him. Jin and Sun are forced to leave Korea because of Sun's father. Originally he was what kept them apart, then he gave them permission to be together, and then he basically forced them apart to the point where they flee the country. Sawyer becomes Sawyer when his father kills himself, and then goes after the man who made him who he is (perhaps the idea of the man who caused his father's death filled the void left by his father's death for Sawyer. Indeed he follows in the man's footsteps far more than he does his father's). Michael is the only father with a child on the island, even though he didn't raise the boy and is only filling in for the father who did. Hell I'm sure there will be more in the episodes of Season 1 I haven't watched, and even more in Season 2. This is what happens when you study film in school, you read more into things that you don't need to read more into. Maybe it's got something to do with father issues as well.

Speaking of...

Pt. 6 - My Father And Other Stories I Haven't Talked About This Week

I didn't realize until yesterday when I finally stopped working that I hadn't really stopped working in nearly two weeks. When people say that they usually mean they haven't had a day off. I haven't had more than a few hours off. Until yesterday the longest break I'd had in the last two weeks or so was less than 6 hours. When I finally crashed yesterday I crashed big time. The cut on my foot had been getting better, but yesterday it got worse. It hurt to walk again, so I was moving with a bit of a limp. I was so tired I was moving slow, and my head hurt something awful. It got to the point where by 9:00 yesterday morning my father said I should probably go home. So I did, fully intending to go back in a few hours. When I got home I threw in a load of laundry, cleaned up a bit, and watched a little more Lost. I meant to be back at work by noon. I instead I woke up around two o'clock having never realized I went to sleep. Shit. I never made it back to work that afternoon, in fact I didn't go back until late last night. It wasn't till then that I realized something. As I was limping towards the pick-up truck yesterday morning my father was telling one of the guys from the post office about the kind of hours I've been putting in lately, and about the toll they're taking on me. It's just like my father to make everyone out to be weaker than him, just like my father to make it seem like nobody else can cut it but him. But then...as I was getting to my car I swear I heard something I've never heard before. I swear he said to the guy, "I'm worried about him." I stopped, and almost turned around. But I wasn't sure he'd said that. Wasn't sure it wasn't just my sleep deprived mind playing tricks on me. Wasn't sure he'd said anything at all. But then again...

"I'm worried about him."

Hell, so am I...so am I.

Shadow Man

I dreamed last night.

I've been pretty busy, and although I'm used to it, it still bothers me a bit. I haven't been able to do much else but work. I get to work between five and seven in the morning, I get home between ten and midnight...when I'm lucky. It won't go on like this forever (I suppose it can't even though I think I could roll with it if it did), but it will do its damage while it does.

I get home and I'm pretty shot. If I haven't had dinner by then I usually just forget about eating all together. Maybe I have a soda, no nightcaps as of late. It seems I've temporarily given up alcohol. I haven't had a drink in...weeks? Could that be right?

I get home and I think for awhile. Then I watch a little bit of the first season of Lost because I've given up on everything else on TV and am hoping to find a show to follow. I crawl into bed, completely exhausted but afraid I won't sleep, and plug into my Ipod for a bit. I never fall asleep before listening to at least a few songs, but I never fall asleep with the headphones on either. I have to be able to hear the alarm at 4:00 A.M.



I dreamt last night.

I was standing in the lobby of a restaurant I didn't recognize surrounded by people I didn't know. There was a lot going on. I could tell it was cold out, but it was warm inside, the place had a certain glow to it. A cute blonde waitress grabbed me by the arm and told me that my friends were waiting for me at our regular table.

I went up the stairs into the dining room, and realized that the restaurant was really this bar I went to in New Orleans once. Except they didn't look the same, I just knew they were. And there were my friends. A couple of the guys sitting on one end of the table with their girlfriends, a few others who I hadn't seen for awhile sitting off to the side. My old roommates were there, and so were some people from church, and a few from the radio station. Dominic Monaghan from Lost and Lord of the Rings was sitting next to me with a few other people I think were actors and actresses but whose names I don't know if I ever knew. My dead grandfather was there, but only for a second and my sixth grade science teacher (who is also dead) was sitting at a table half a room away making googly eyes at one of the girls.

Everyone was laughing and talking and I sat down at the end of one table with my back up against the railing, and began to join right in. We ate (what I don't remember), we drank (bourbon of course), and we sang (long wobbling songs with witty lyrics and silly refrains). Then the cute waitress would stop by to fill up our cups and laugh at our jokes and by the end of the night we'd ate and drank our fill. It was a good time. A happy dream...

The table quieted down. It was a pensive silence. They were waiting, so I toasted, it only seemed like the right thing to do. I toasted to life. To Happiness. To old friends, new friends, and friends I'd yet to meet. I toasted to today, tomorrow, and yesterday. I toasted to lots of things. And then as soon as we'd finished our drinks I offered to buy another round. But my friends were tired (aren't they always?), the others were in a rush to move on to other things, the actors and actresses thought they'd had enough to drink, my grandfather and science teacher went back to being dead. It was an awkward moment. Me there still ready to go...and everyone fading off into the darkness.

I had my drink alone.

The restaurant was empty, the lights were out. It was still warm inside, but the door was open now and a cold breeze blew in. I picked up my coat and headed for the door. The cute blonde waitress stopped me and put her hand on my arm, "Long day, hun?"

I smiled, "You have no idea."

I walked out the door alone, still smiling. I barely felt the cold.

I woke up for work at 4 A.M., I was still warm.

Jerk (Off)

"Most guys masturbate a lot, I masturbate enough." - T.O. Hob

Wicked...

School started on Tuesday and like I predicted it was an absolute disaster. I pretty much held things together on my own and I spent the majority of that night patching things together. I had told Goldberg I wasn't going to make it down for our show, and he should get a replacement co-host for the night. He did, but at the last minute I managed to break out of work for a bit (it was 8:30 P.M. and I still hadn't taken even a piss break since 5:00 A.M.) and in what can be described as a minor miracle I hit Route 18 at the exact moment the program started. I listened to the first five minutes of the show in the car, and made it upstairs before the ten minute mark. Instead of interrupting I just let them keep going. Thing was they were good, not great, but good and by the time they realized I was standing there they'd already said quite a bit. And then, just after the first break, I came on the air. And the whole program sort of changed. Goldberg sort of switched it to a different level and the two of us never missed a beat. We'd had decent shows before, but this is the first one where the two of us hit our stride and never looked back. I think it was because we got to see what it was like when it wasn't the two of us for a moment. I've always believed in the power of showing up, but I hadn't noticed until the other night that showing up late can work out well too. If we keep on doing the show and keep on getting better we'll look back on Tuesday night as a huge turning point.

I remember when Matt and I hit that point. We were mostly crap mostly because we wanted to be. But there were a few moments where the two of us were brilliant, where we kind of fooled ourselves into thinking we were better than we were. We didn't just think we were good, we thought we might actually be good enough.

I guess I knew we never were, doesn't matter much now anyway.

So Tuesday's schedule went in the shit, and despite everything we did to cover some things slipped through the cracks due to no fault of our own. I spent extra time Tuesday night making sure Wednesday would go well. I worked 17 hours on Tuesday.

My father and brother were being assholes, neither one had a real grasp of what was going on but until things started going wrong they were toying with my planning and taking credit for a smooth morning. When they started fucking up it all came back to me. So I fixed it. No problem. That's what I do. I placated angry parents, drivers, and schools. I fought to get things right and hit back at my father and brother's stubborn and misguided efforts with a pitbull sort of tenacity. At 7:00 when they realized how badly they screwed up the board for the next day it took me an hour or so to fix it. At 8:00 when they realized the kid had forgotten to write a handful of runs that began the next day they gave-up, packed-up, and went home. I stayed up all night writing them, they were ready to go for the next morning. I worked 20 hours on Wednesday.

Thursday I drove a very long run because it had gone badly the day before. The run took up 7 hours of my day. I spent most of my time reminding the kid of things he had to do and trying to help him do them. I spent the rest of the time fixing the things he wouldn't listen to me about. In the year and a half I've been running things we've completely blown exactly one job. Thursday, the kid's third day of running anything, we blew four. I put a stop to it all real quick. Late Thursday night as I worked in the office the phone rang. I answered, said hello, and the voice of a young woman on the other end said, "I'm sorry, you have the wrong number." I worked 20 hours on Thursday.

Friday I slept late. Getting to work at 5:35 A.M. instead of 5:30 A.M. For the first time this season my father and brother made it in to the office before me (they also seven hours before me the day before). They had the nerve to call me and ask if I'd overslept. I drove for seven hours. Spent the rest of the time banging away in the office. My father overbooked and when he figured out he couldn't cover all the work, he left it all to me. It's Friday and I've worked 17 hours. And the day is not over yet...

The day is not over yet...

I Think I May Have Loved Her

Ha...just fucking with you.

Yesterday I had BBQ at my new place. It wasn't as big, or as grand as the other ones, but you know what? It was just as good.

We ate and drank our fill till the sun went down and then we set up the projector in the backyard and did a movie under the stars type of thing. Real nice...except we watched Dodgeball and the noise sort of pissed off my neighbors. By the time I tore everything down and cleaned up the aftermath it was getting pretty late. And that's when the fireworks started.

I'm not sure where they were coming from, but the sky lit up anew with every staccato explosion. They weren't big fireworks, or spectacular in any way, and I could barely see them over the trees as they seemed to be very far away. But they were nice, a nice ending to a long couple of days.

I took a shower, had a drink, and completely exhausted hit the sack. Three hours later I was on my way to work.

What a wonderful world.

It was a half assed BBQ by my standards, one full of embarassing quirks and minor revelations, but in the end it was still pretty good. It was a start.

I've got a feeling about tonight...a very, very strange feeling.

School's in.

Once more the wicked whirlwind....here goes Day One.

Thematic

"Once more the wicked whirlwind,
once more the dark grows wide,
once more into the night dear friends,
another day has died." - T.O. Hob

It's been a busy couple of days. I performed another infamous Palomba move, a fairly succesful one if I do say so myself and have begun the transition to working with a new dispatch manager (possibly my fourth in a month and already knowing he'll be leaving soon.). School season starts in a few days and we're certainly not ready. We'll figure it out though, we're professionals. (Cue the laughtrack.)

I've been something of a mess lately. Lot going on in my head. Lots of thoughts about a lot of people. Damndest thing though is that I'm glad to be thinking them. I've sort of made peace with some things that were eating me before. Now I just have to figure out how, so that I can do it again when I need to. It's left me in a bit of a good mood.

I read the latest Richard Laymon book (man's been dead going on five years but he's still publishing) and finally gave in and started "The Kite Runner", it seems fantastic so I'm glad I did. I still refuse to read "The DaVinci Code" maybe later.

I like my new place so far. I've only met one of the neighbors, but my dad says he met a few and they seemed nice. I haven't met the man upstairs, but since I'm something of an intruder at this point I think I'll wait a bit before knocking on the door. The lady next door has two kids ( a girl and a boy), both seem to be about eighteen, and when I came home on my first night the girl was sitting on the roof of her house talking on her cellphone. I started to laugh, it reminded me a lot of New Brunswick. I've already decided I like watching a community wake up far more than I like watching an apartment complex wake up. There's just something better about it.

I don't have an internet connection at the new place just yet, so it may be a few days before I can post anymore. I'm all geared up for working 18 hour days for the next week, and even more geared up for my half-asssed bbq on Monday. I talked to Matt from WRSU today and he is talking about coming down and talking to the new news team, which would be great. Corey is talking about getting the new kids involved early. The new news director seems like a nice girl. I can't wait to see what they do with it all. Lots going on, wouldn't have it any other way.

And I learned something new too.

My father was helping me clean out my old apartment the other night. It turned out to be a lot of work for two guys, and it was getting pretty late. I had hurt my back and been moving furniture all day, so I had just about had it. My father is getting old and had been working all day, so he was pretty tired too. As we walked back to the apartment in a dull warm drizzle of rain I said over my shoulder, "Thanks a lot Dad, I really appreciate all the help." He didn't say a thing. I stopped walking thinking that maybe he had stopped to light a cigarette, but he hadn't. I thought perhaps he hadn't heard me so I said it again, "Thanks a lot Day, I really appreciate all the help." He just walked past me, never said a word.

I've always known my father wasn't a "please" and "thank you" kind of guy, but what can anyone possible have against "you're welcome"?

I've decided that it's not that my father isn't very good at expressing himself, it's that he's incapable of it. I love my father, and deep down I think he may actually be a very good man. There are so many ways I wish I could be like him some day...and there are so many more I hope to God I'm not.

Why Never Is A Funny Word...

"Factitious...funny word isn't it? Fak-teesh-us, doesn't exactly roll right off the tongue now does it?" - Laz Jones

Why do you haunt me? Can't you just leave me be? I've gone down into the darkness just to get away from you...but you're still there. I just can't see you as clearly.

I think that makes it worse.

I said never. Never would I sink so low to think of it all again. I was over that. I was past it. I was moving on.

I'd blocked myself out from so many things, kept myself safely tucked away in the corners of mine own mind. I was a wall.

Somewhere along the line you spend so much time with certain people in certain places that you begin to think the only things you have in common are the places themselves, and then, when you lose the place you lose the people.

They have to go somewhere.

I'd sealed off that place, the hole where I leave all the people I used to know, and tried not to pay it much thought. I descended into the darkness. Never bothering to come up for air.

As things begin to change I feel I need a breath. Just one.

But as I come up through that chamber, as I leave the darkness behind, they are all waiting. I see them there and I know.

I miss them.

Never.

I've always been too scared to try.

I was afraid before. I'm afraid now.

Someday I won't be...

Alright, Ok?

"That man's got his head so far up his ass that what he's thinking depends on where he's sitting." - T.O. Hob

It's all about finishing our parts. Ending things in a way which people will remember, because if no one remembers your part in the story they probably won't remember you. This is where we try too hard. Where we struggle. Where we fail.

Maybe there's more to it.

Maybe we do what we do, we say what we say, and we leave whether or not we're remembered to the people who are doing the remembering. It only seems fair.

"A little advice from an old soul; you're doing just fine." - T.O. Hob's Promise

"The words fall fallow from my mouth,
their deaths a sight to see.
The silence of a beating heart,
a gift for you from me." - Epistocles

The Office

"Abraham Lincoln once said that "If you're a racist, I will attack you with the North" and these are the principles I carry with me in the workplace." - Michael Scott (Steve Carrel), The Office

You gotta love a job that lets you spread your wings right up until the point where the fucking ceiling fan leaves you with bloody feathery little stumps...uh, yeah, long day.

So I've been watching the American version of The Office, and I really thought I wasn't going to like it because I liked the British version so much, but surprisingly I thought it was just as good in a really different sort of way.

Here's the thing, I watched the British version before I worked in an office on a daily basis, and of course my office is nothing like the one in the show, and the people I work with are nothing like the ones on the show, but...I got it before, and I really get it now.

Today was one of those days.

Since I've begun running my company a lot of things have actually changed. We follow the rules now. We take advantage of current technology. We're working to make our workplace safer, stronger, and just plain better. But that's all bullshit...what have I really done?

When faced with rising healthcare costs I managed to find a health insurance plan that costs less, covers more, and allows me to contribute a significant percentage without costing the company ridiculously more. I found other options, we offer supplemental insurance now and have enrolled in a pre-tax Cafeteria plan.

The average employee makes $1 more per hour since I took over, and I know that doesn't sound like a lot, but to some people it is. To some people it really is. The average employee has the opportunity to work more hours per week, which means they have the opportunity to make more money. I make sure to buy the office staff lunch once or twice a month, pick up coffee or breakfast on occassion, take a bunch of drivers out for a nice meal at the end of the summer season. I get angry, but I never really yell at anyone. Hell I hardly even reprimand anyone. People get away with a ridiculous amount of shit. It's sort of a job perk.

Some places pay a little more per hour than us, but they offer fewer hours. Some places offer a few more hours than us, but they pay less per hour. We're right in the middle, which is a nice place to be until you realize that no one really aims for the middle. It makes it real tough to find new employees and since this is a business of ridiculous turnover it means we're often short handed. But the way we're set up works out best for the people who work for us, and anyone smart enough to join up. People just don't always realize it. They always think we're out to screw them, they don't understand that the better they do the better we do. Either that or they just don't care.

It's tough to talk to people who don't care, particulary when you can't blame them for not caring. It's a pretty shitty job, and while the pay is good for what they're doing it's still not great. You can't help them help themselves because they don't want help, and they don't really want to help themselves. Some of them are there for reasons out of their control, but some of them are their because, you guessed it, they just don't care.

So I did some good things, what difference does it make? To differing degrees some of those things would have happened without me. It doesn't change the way people look at me. Some people don't like me because I'm not my father, others don't like me because I'm me. None of them really like me all that much. Doesn't matter what I do for them. They're never happy.

They want to get paid more per hour, get paid for more hours, but work fewer hours.

People have always been paid for more hours than they worked at the company. Some people work 45 minutes and get paid for 2 hours. Others work for 1 hour and 45 minutes and get paid for 3 1/2 hours. It was getting a little out of hand. So this year in an attempt to clean things up a little my father asked me to cut a half hour off of certain runs. So for runs that run less than two hours the most we'll pay is three hours. Still seems like a pretty good deal. So here's what I did...I took a half hour off of the runs in question. It only affected five people, so what I did was I gave those five people bigger raises than everyone else. Which means they'll make the same amount of money for doing the same amount of work. They're still not putting in the hours they're getting paid for. They argue anyway. I understand of course, it's just that they never do.

To top it all off today my god damn secretary (who has always gotten away with just being bad at her job) is now being downright destructive. She's in a position where she knows a lot of things that we don't need for every one of the 170 other employees to know, yet somehow she can't keep her mouth shut. She hurts us so much more than she helps us. And everybody knows it now. It's one of many things that need to be addressed.

"Because right now, this is a job. If I advance any higher, this would be my career. And if this were my career, I'd have to throw myself in front of a train." - Jim Halpert (John Krasinski), The Office

I think I like The Office because I like the characters. People look at them and they relate a little to the characters, as extremes, as characterizations of people they know. I just kind of think they'd be cool people to work with. There are days where I wish that I worked at a god damn paper company instead of running the company I do.

The people that work with me aren't like the people in The Office and I'm not like the bosses in The Office. They think too much of themselves and not enough of the people that work for them. I don't think very much of anyone.

David Brent and Michael Scott are assholes, they're lonely bitter assholes. A bit like me in that regard, but unlike me they take it out on other people, both intentionally and unintentionally. I just hurt myself.

I don't know.

I wish there were more people my age at my job. Wish there were more people who I could talk to. Wish there were just different people I suppose.

"No I don't talk about my love life for a very good reason, and that reason is I don't have one. Which is very good news for the ladies-I am still available. I'm a heck of a catch, cos, er well look at it. I live in Slough, in a lovely house, with my parents. I have my own room, which I've had since yep, since I was born. That's seen a lot of action I tell you. Mainly dusting. I went to university for a year as well, before I dropped out, so I'm a quitter. So, er, form an orderly queue ladies." - Tim Canterbury (Martin Freeman), The Office

You can't win. It's just not possible. But I guess you can try.

No matter what happens you see yourself as the good guy, and everybody else sees you as the bad guy. Doesn't matter how good or how bad you really are. So you hunt for the middle ground, because in the end that's all there really is.

Bosses...

Yeah we're all shit, but that just might be our job. And if we can figure out a way to help everyone without hurting anyone...well then we'd just be slightly less catastrophic failures, and everyone will hate us just as much.

We try too hard, and can never really do enough. We're resigned to our fates, even if we don't realize it. We're different, but not so much.

So I guess there's just a little David Brent, and a little Michael Scott in all of us bosses...but hopefully that's all there is...just a little.

"Look at this - "Dutch girls must be punished for having big boobs". Now you do not punish a girl, Dutch or otherwise, for having big boobs." - David Brent (Ricky Gervais), The Office

The Curious Dilemma Of T.O. Hob

"He doesn't exist you know. Not like me and you, not like all of them. He's something different altogether. Something...magical." - T.O. Hob, On God

"Ditto." - God, On Hob

I wish that things could have been different. Wish that I wasn't always who I am. I made my decisions a long time ago, set out my groundwork, and rolled with it. I have my morals, have my way, and I wouldn't force it on anyone. Hell most days I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But it is what it is, and I am what I am.

I am decidedly not at a crossroads. In fact I'm sort of crusing comfortably down the slow road to nowhere. But stuck in this unrelenting holding pattern I find a place where...well, where things slow down.

Uh...ok. Yeeaahh...here's the thing.

You know, the thing...the thing is....

Ah...the thing.

Talk about timing.

Nothing happened last night that put me in the mood I'm in today. There were no surprises that put me off tilt. I did not see anyone who I did not expect to see. Nothing happened. Nothing.

And still I think these things, my head sent spinning down a path that...

Well...no, no. Actually, um, that's not quite what happened...

You see, well no, of course you don't. I mean, how could you?

Let me explain.

I'm moving in a week, giving me another way to mark off a year. And while I was beginning to pack up I began to think and I realized that it will soon be a year since I last saw a lot of people. I don't like that, of course I don't like that. And that's what...got me...started.

Maybe not...maybe that wasn't it.

So many markers have been passed, and so many more I'll pass by eventually. Places I wonder if I'll ever get to. I'd like to see London someday. Paris too. Maybe even Rome. Rome...can you imagine that? Just need someone to go with me I suppose. I suppose that's it...

Or maybe it isn't...maybe it's that...

I've been thinking...and I think that's killing me.

My Maserati Does One-Eighty-Five

"Give me eight shots of Jameson."

"You're kidding."

"No. No I'm not."

Well...

Two nights in New Brunswick and I remember a little bit of why I loved that place.

It wasn't with the same people, it wasn't in the same places, but any night in a bar in New Brunswick makes me feel sort of nostalgic. I know... it doesn't take much.

Maybe it's the sounds (a city that's not quite a city), maybe it's the alcohol (expensive and watered down), maybe it's the women (always beautiful). But a bar in New Brunswick is a special place, and when I can work up the intestinal fortitude to stomach crowds of people for a awhile I enjoy them immensely.

Last night Jere, House and I headed down to JJ's (Not one of the old Brunswick bars, it opened right before I graduated) to hear Gonzo play with his band. I've seen quite a few iterations of Gonzo's band and this one may just be the best. Nevertheless we were merciless in a good natured sort of way.

At some point, between buying $100 worth of Jameson shots (Palomba & Co. killing bottles of mediocre whiskey everywhere we go since 1999) and trying not to ogle the pretty girls someone drunk ended up saying something that was actually pretty poignant, we drank to it. And then we drank to beautiful women, questionable sexuality, ceiling fans, and finally boobs.

It still all seemed remarkably dignified.

"Yeah Gonzo! Yeah Pat! Yeah....other guy on drums whose name I don't remember." - The Forgetful Chant

"Jeff! Jeff! Jeff! Jeff!" - The Guys making up for The Forgetful Chant.

Jere and House were plastered, and hysterical, and since it was pretty much all Gonzo's friend in the bar no one really cared much. One guy asked me, "Are you ever embarrased to take them places?" To which I laughed and replied, "They ain't heavy."

When we stumbled out of the bar just after two in the morning, our ears ringing and having drunk our fill I was unable to avoid the wave of nostalgia that comes with any New Brunswick night. The fact that I'd been there two nights in a row for the first time in over a year made it all the tougher.

We hit the Grease Trucks after last call, and stood around drinking warm soda and eating sandwiches so violently unhealthy that surviving them is something of a religious experience.

I finshed my food and headed away from the guys to throw out my garbage, and then I wandered. Out towards College Ave. I stood there, for the first time in a long time, staring at a place I'd spent so much time in and wondering about all the different people I'd met there. It was tough for a minute, but beautiful in that way that only memories can be.

I wandered back over to the guys only to find one of them pissing on the side of a building, the other trying to piss into a soda can.

The people and places change...but some things stay eerily familiar.

Yeah, that's right.

My Maserati? It does one eighty five...

Do You Grok?

Well...

Yesterday was a pretty shitty day. Not a whole lot went right back at work, and though it wasn't busy it wasn't quiet. It was boring. Then again even when it's exciting it isn't interesting. There were more problems which are symptomatic of working with your family. More rifts and divisions, differences of opinions and fissions in moral fiber. It wasn't fun. It simply reminded me that I rarely feel better at the end of a workday then I felt when I started.

But then again there were those things which reminded me it's not important how much you're up at the end of the third quarter, but if you're in the lead at the end of the game.

By 5:00 P.M. I'd been in three arguments, a near fistfight, been mocked, ignored, and basically abused. I'd collected my daily parking ticket from the Fair Lawn PD, my credit card number had been stolen and someone was charging random things to my account, I felt like hell in general. My kid brother was stirring shit up at work, and my father was siding with him even though we both knew the kid was wrong. A long list of employees had a longer list of complaints. One of my managers was out and the guys filling in were not pulling their weight. My father was doing his best to lock me out of decisions which I have become the only one capable of making...and the results were so disastrous that it was making even him a little bit nervous. I was still in the early phases of righting a month's worth of wrongs, and not exactly making brilliant progress.

It was one of those rare days that saves me the trouble of beating the hell out of myself.

By 7:00 P.M. I was on my way south to do a radio show I didn't really feel like doing. I actually considered for a moment calling out, but I haven't been the one to call of a show in nearly two years. I didn't plan on starting then.

I was ripping down the parkway listening to the same song over and over again and somewhere between Exit 155 and Exit 129 I realized what a beautiful day it was.

I have a job. A good job. It's a lot of work, not very rewarding, and certainly not very glamorous. But I like it...it's very "me."

I have friends. Not many, certainly not as many as I used to. Most of them are dicks, but then again so am I.

I have a place to live. A nice place. I've got a real kitchen to cook in so I don't have to order out every night, a backyard to BBQ in so I can actually invite people over more, and a driveway to park in so I don't have to get anymore of those god damn parking tickets.

I have a history, a past. There are people I used to see that I don't, things I used to do that I can't, and places where I would go that I won't. For the first time ever there are significant people in my life that I no longer see. Some who have died or moved away, others who I've simply lost touch with. There are things and places that I have loved that I don't need anymore. They served their purpose, and now they're empty to me. They've found someone else. I have a past which means that at some point I had a future, and gives me pause enough to realize that I may just have one yet again.

So when I arrived in New Brunswick and marched into the WRSU Studio I was feeling pretty damn good. We didn't plan out our show we just hung around and bullshit till it was time to go on the air, and then once we were on we just kept rolling with it. It was, by far, the best show Corey and I have ever done. It was right up there with the best shows Matt and I ever did. It was interesting, it was funny, and most of all it was fun.

When I arrived where I was going I felt a million times better then when I had left home, and when I walked out of that studio last night I felt a million times better then when I had walked in. I don't remember most of the ride home, I was thinking out loud and writing in my head and just having a grand old time.

I'm not sure how I did it, and I don't really remember any of it, but I know that at some point I got off the Parkway and a few hours later ended up outside of the bus yardwhen I'd really intended to go home.

I stood their for a few minutes thinking...and smiling.

You see, I've always known this, but I've never been able to put it into words. Something Corey said last night set it right for me, he said (with little malice) that I was "dishonest" because I can say two things at once, because I can put something out there toy with it, take it back, and put it back out there again meaning something completely different. Or something like that. And last night standing outside the bus yard I found a new one.

How you get there is not nearly as important as where you end up, but sometimes how you get there is the most interesting part.

Grok?

What is Ghostbusters?

"I should think that if people were to get the wrong impression of me, the one to which you so eloquently refer, it wouldn't be the wrong impression in the slightest. " -Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, Velvet Goldmine

Where to begin?

So Sunday night (Monday morning) after I posted I was wracked by that vicious sensation which told me it would not be a good idea to go to sleep...so I didn't. Instead I stayed up all night watching movies. I finished the morning off with Velvet Goldmine, a movie which always surprises me. I've never been sure whether or not it was a good movie, but I always knew I liked it. It has some of my favorite actors (Christian Bale, Ewan McGregor), one of my favorite comedians (Eddie Izzard) and is based in part on the careers of one of my favorite musicians (David Bowie). But there's something else about the movie which makes me enjoy it, I just can't put my finger on it.

So then, completely exhausted I went back to work for the first time in about a month and put in over 14 hours. Typical.

I fell asleep pretty easily that night. And when I did I dreamed. So much of my old dreams were back, it was great. One particular stands out in my mind. I'm in this bar, a nice little place I know I've never seen, but which still felt familiar. I can't really see anybody else in the bar although I know there's people at the tables. Even the bartender is sort of a blur. But there's this guy sitting next to me at the bar, and though I've never seen him before I know he's a friend. And then as we're talking I realize there are two girls sitting next to him. And I know we're with them. Within a second I remember everything, who the guy is where we met the girls, how we were all working on a project together in class, and how we were all just hanging out getting a drink, shooting the shit. We were friends, and suddenly the entire bar was clear. I could see everybody...except I really knew these people. And two of the bartenders at bars I hung out at in school were there. It was all just strange, but great. All my dreams that night were great. Just...great.

Tuesday I signed the lease on my new place, the first floor of a two family house that is entirely too much space for me, but still fantastic, and absolutely perfect for my Labor Day BBQ. (If you know me you're invited.)

Did my show with Goldberg on Tuesday night. It was fun.

Started taking the photos of all 160 of my employees for their new photo ID's which will be extremely bootleg.

Finally got the tire on my car fixed...again.

Went to court in Butler where I sat for nearly three hours sorting through a ticket I shouldn't have gotten.

I get there and go into the courtroom. The place is crowded so I grab a seat on the only mostly empty bench. Down the other end is a very pretty girl and her boyfriend. I talk to the prosecutor and he tells me I need to see him in his office which means I have to get on the really long line to see him in the office. He tells the pretty girl the same thing.

So I head out into the hallway and get on the end of the line. A few minutes later she gets on line right behind me. She's frustrated and wanders back into the courtroom. She comes back into the hallway and makes a very general statement, to which every single man in the hallway (except me) responds. Everyone is suddenly an expert in New Jersey traffic law. There's ten guys trying to talk to her and she finally gets flustered and walks to the back of the line by me. She smiles politely as she gets back in line and I smile back. A minute later a creepy cracked out looking guy (who was in on a drunk and disorderly charge) starts motioning to the girl, saying "Come on. Come up here. Come on, you can cut in line." He's laying it on pretty thick. The girl looks at me and the guy in front of me, we kind of shrug. It's pretty obvious the girl would be better off not going near this guy, but she'd probably be saving herself about an hour by moving up on line. Finally she decides to move up front. And this guy doesn't stop ogling her the entire time their on line. He's talking to her a lot and she's trying to make conversation but you can tell she'd rather her boyfriend step in and say something but the kid is way out of his league and mostly just wanders around outside. Every once and awhile she looks back at the growing line and seems to wonder if it's worth moving to the back. I'm not sure anyone was all too fond of the creepy guy. He got his though. The girl went in to see the prosecutor, and then the judge recessed before the creepy guy could get in. The guy had to wait over an hour to get done...of course all of us on line behind him did too.

I got the ticket waived, only paid the court fees. 'Course it took three hours.

On the way back I stop at the record store and pick up a half dozen CD's including the new Johnny Cash Box Set, the new Best of Iggy Pop, the Best of the Violent Femmes, Green Days International Super Hits, the Velvet Goldmine Soundtrack, and the newest Yellowcard.

I stop and get an orange slurpee.

And while in 7-11 I get the "make my day worthwhile story."

I'm buying the new Entertainment Weekly with Bill Murray on the cover. As the counter guy is ringing me up he looks at the magazine and goes, "The new Supreme Court Justice?" I started dying. Laughing my ass off. Not because of the guys mistake, but because the thought of Bill Murray as a Supreme Court Justice is so great it's hilarious. I spent five minutes explaining to the guy that the new justice will be John Roberts, and then who Bill Murray is. When I'm finished he looks at me and goes, "Bill Murray...Politically Incorrect?" And I said "No, no that's Bill Maher. Bill Murray was in Ghostbusters." The guy goes, "Yes! Yes! Ghostbusters!" And then looks at me funny and says, "What is Ghostbusters?"

I just chuckled and said, "Nevermind."

"Old man loneliness is a son of a bitch Both hands bound, can't scratch the itch." -Finch, A Man Alone

The Sixth Part: The Book of Disquiet

"No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it. " -Fernando Pessoa

"To feel today what one felt yesterday isn't to feel - it's to remember today what was felt yesterday, to be today's living corpse of what yesterday was lived and lost." - Fernando Pessoa

Take a look, see what's left of me. Each part strips away another layer, only leaving greater holes in my whole.

I admit...I've been sitting on my ass for the better part of the last month, enjoying it immensely, but still sitting on my ass. I read a lot the first few weeks, probably more than normal. And I've written a little the last few weeks, probably less than I would have liked. I think I avoided thinking a lot because I was just concerned with what I was going to do next. See I'd found part of what I wanted, and was still trying to wrap my head around moving onto the next part...and then I lost the first part.

It wasn't really a heavy blow to me, I'd seen so much of it coming. I handled it well I thought, been the bigger man as usual. But I didn't know what I was doing next. It was the part of the plan I'd never made it around to.

I was going to take a vacation for a bit, go away for awhile, but then I realized I'd have to do it alone. What fun would that be? What would I do with myself, by myself? Nothing. I would have spent a month being miserable in slightly different scenery. I would have proven that the inside of most hotel rooms look remarkably similar. Might have gotten tanked in some shitty hotel bar and wandered the streets until I got locked up.

Maybe a night or two in jail would have done me some good.

"Could it think, the heart would stop beating. "- Fernando Pessoa

I'm heading back to work tomorrow, not because everything got sorted out, but because I made sure that enough got sorted out that there was at least a shot of everything working out.

A shot.

Not a great shot, or even a really good shot, but a shot.

A long shot if you will.

"God wills, Man dreams, the Work is born." - Fernando Pessoa

I have to go down to PSE&G and pay last months bill (a whopping $86) because I forgot to write a check and now they're going to shut my power off.

I have to be in court on Wednesday because I got a ticket I didn't really deserve, I'm just going to pay it anyway, but the officer was kind enough to indicate that a court appearance is required. Fantastic.

I have to sign my new lease this week...for my new house. Which is way too big for me, and more money then I really need to spend, but which was actually the most I could get for the least amount of money. It's a three bedroom place...but there's still only just me.

I don't know exactly what's going on, but one bit of what was missing in Part Five won't be missing in Part Six. I sort of have a plan. So let's go...I mean, why the hell not? Right?

Onwards and upwards...Part Six.

"Success consists in being successful, not in having potential for success. Any wide piece of ground is the potential site of a palace, but there's no palace till it's built." - Fernando Pessoa

"Wise is he who enjoys the show offered by the world. "- Fernando Pessoa

Between Nowhere And Good-Bye

There's something unsettling about everything you do having to add up to something greater. Never did much like that idea. Always thought that things should stand alone and in the end somebody else would add it all up for you. Reckon by the time they got around to it whatever they came up with wouldn't matter much to you anyway. Not in the end.

I got a headache. My ears ain't right, and my eyes are a little wobbly too. There's this pain in my back right down where my tailbone meets...well, right where my tailbone meets whatever it is my tailbone meets. Can't shake any of it.

I never did sleep right, and now's no exception. But I'm sleeping for the first time in a little while and that doesn't seem to be helping matters. I went back to my bed after nine months on my couch, and now at some point between three and seven I manage to fight my way asleep. Hour or two later I'm up again, pace around a bit, have a drink, turn on the television and manage to drift off again on the couch. Sometimes I'm up in five minutes, sometimes five hours. I never feel very much rested. I feel old.

But I feel right.

I've always had great vision and the fact that I'm getting sort of blurry bothers me a little. It was quick, too quick to do anything about. One minute I could see fine, I blinked my eyes and it was gone. It had happened before. Once or twice that is. But it always worked itself out in a few seconds. Been like this over a day now.

I had great hearing, hell I still do. Used to be able to hear a bee buzzing a block away. Problem is now some of the stuff I mean to hear is getting jumbled with stuff going on outside my attention. I can't get rid of the ringing.

That pain in my back. It could be nothing, or it could be the beginning of the end. Fat people get back problems. I guess I've just been lucky so far.

Lucky. Shit.

I'd almost grown a beard, haven't shaven since I left my job, I was in that awkward place where I couldn't really see my face but I couldn't quite call the hair a beard yet. Thick Scruff. That's what it is. Or was. I shaved it all of today. Kind of funny how much your face can change in a couple days. How you can almost not recognize yourself. How you know it wasn't really the hair that made you look different.

I don't know. Never did, never will. Some things just may never sit right with me. Maybe some people are supposed to be haunted.

And maybe not.

No one reads this anymore, not that anyone really read it in the first place. But I can tell that no one reads it at all now. Doesn't matter though, what I write here will stay here. For a long time maybe, so there's no sense in not writing it.

God knows if I didn't write it all here, I'd probably have to say it somewhere else.

And I know how that goes.

Somebody asked me what I wanted once. And I guess I told them, but I could have said it different. Could have said it simpler. Could have said it better.

I want what everyone else wants. I want to live forever, and barring that I'll settle for dying old and happy.

That's the ticket.

Old and happy.

Happy.

Who Figures An Immigrant Is Going To Have A Pony?

Has it been thirteen days?

Well, let's see.

I was tired.

So I slept for two whole days.

I've utterly destroyed my couch I've spent so much time on it in the last week. I've become unstoppable in Tiger Woods Golf. I've seen Empire Records six times, Wimbledon four times, Seabiscuit three times, and A Man Apart twice. No one should have to see A Man Apart twice.

I've watched infomercials for dehydraters, rehydraters, and ultra-slim super-hydraters. I've seen every repeat of West Wing ever and am therefore convinced that with a little elbow grease and a really talented Chief-of-Staff I could run the country. I've watched the same episode of Celebrity Poker so many times that I know all of Shannon Elizabeth's tells. And know that they don't matter since if she'd ask the other players would just give her their chips. Can't really blame them.

I've watched certain scenes in The Phantom of The Opera many, many times. Read the same article in Newsweek over and over again. And listened to the same Audioslave song so often I know all the words.

I've had a few drinks, hung out with friends, and even got my first lap dance. It was nice, but awkward, we mostly just talked. Ain't that just me?

I want to go to Canada. Just for a bit. Just for kicks.

I've realized some things too.

I used to walk more, drive more, just plain get out more. I used to wander more. I wanted that back. So the other day I just drove, drove till my damn tires went flat. And when I put air back in them I started driving again. Don't know where I went, or why I went there, but for awhile I was gone. And that felt good.

I've started taking nightly walks. Short walks, quiet walks. Nothing too spectacular. I walked to CVS for milk last night and when I found that they were out I wasn't all that disappointed. I bought an iced tea and just kept walking for a bit.

I didn't realize how much I've put off in the past year. How much of me I've let sit by the side. I knew I wasn't all there, but...

As I walked through the rain last night I thought of people. All the people I've known. The ones I see, how they've changed. The ones I've lost, how I imagine they've become. The ones I miss, and the hopes I would have for them. I thought of running into people, and saying goodbye to people. Of finding people I thought I would never see again. I don't know...I just don't.

Things have been quiet, I don't leave my apartment most days. I just sit here now, trying to get myself to a new place. I'll get bored soon. I can't just go on like this indefinitely. If I don't get results soon I change things. I'll call up the guys and go grab a drink, or head north for a spot of vacation, I'll get a job in a bookstore, or start writing again. I could just disappear. Or not.

I don't know. I'll figure it out as I go. No sweat.

I'm twenty-four years old, I've quit my job, put myself in a lonely place and laid my options out in a neat little line. I'm not starting over again, not rewriting the whole damn book. I could live with things going back to the way they were. Not perfect, but not too shabby either. The middle doesn't matter, the middle's for shits and giggles. There's something else I'm worried about. I've said it before and will say it again.

I think I need a new ending.

It's going to be one hell of a fight. Looks like fun.

Creme Soda & Corn Flakes

"Hey there, it's been awhile." - T.O. Hob, The Return of T.O. Hob

No, no...it's not over yet.

I haven't been here much lately. Not by choice, but because my computer is so ass backwards it hasn't been worth posting. I'm holding out on laying out the cash to buy a new computer. And this one is beyond redemption...much like me.

I've been pretty busy at work. Really busy. Really, really busy. Really, really, really busy.

Get it?

Forget lunch breaks, I can't even take a piss till everyone else is long gone for the day. Even then I'm afraid to go into the bathroom, because God forbid the phone rings and I don't answer it. You know it's bad when you can't take a shit because every time you think you hear the phone ring you have to shut the lights off so the fan goes off so you can hear if the phone rings. You ever try to piss in the dark? Or worse the phone is ringing and I have to stop what I'm doing and make a mad dash for that shit. Three steps out of the bathroom with my drawers around my ankles and I'm wondering, "Did I remember to lock the office door?"

Shit.

It's been a long time since I've had a break. Long time since I wasn't tired. But I guess it's good to feel like you've done something. To know that you're working as hard as you possibly can, even if it's at something completely pointless.

Hell. I'm just glad to be alive I guess...glad to have something. Glad to be able to drop you a line here, even if it is only once every thirteen days at this point.

See you soon.

The Jesus Lobotomy: Return to The Abyss

"Well, that does it gentleman. We are now officially a conglomerate of dirty old men." - T.O. Hob, on The Organization

I overslept this morning. First time in a long time I wasn't where I was supposed to be when I was supposed to be there. I wasn't too happy about that.

Yesterday was a very bad day.

The last few weeks haven't been that great. I've been sick, I've been well, I've been sick again. These last few days have been sick days.

This afternoon I felt a little better after work, and I had a rather brilliant idea. I would take this well time and clean my apartment. Not just a normal cleaning, a Palomba cleaning. The kind of cleaning where I mix my own industrial strenght cleaning solution so strong it strips the pain of the walls and makes the neighbors dizzy. The type of cleaning where you can eat off the floor as soon as the toxicity wears off. The kind of cleaning where...well, hell you get the point.

I didn't get very far before I fell ill again, but I got somewhere at least. And I'm still going.

So anyway that doesn't really mean anything...except somewhere during it all I got that old feeling. The one which is neither good nor bad. The one that really wouldn't even be a feeling if I didn't know it couldn't be anything else. That tingle.

And I had an idea.

What if all I needed was a good night's sleep?

What if all I needed was a cozy bed?

So I went out and bought some new bedsheets, and made my way back to my apartment.

My half cleaned apartment.

This has been the worst entry ever. But here's my point, that crappy little apartment is finally beginning to feel familiar. Finally beginning to feel different.

Tonight I will sleep in a bed for the first time in over 9 months. Tomorrow I will by a computer to replace this virus riddled piece of shit, work a little, write a little, and give my notice....I'm moving out. Moving on.