As promised (if a few days late), here is the first of some old writings from my original journal from a decade or so ago.
This was written the day I was flying out of Seattle to return to Huntsville, Alabama after an unsuccessful 7 month stay:
"(Singing) I'm sittin' in an airport station, got a ticket for my destination... (Sorry, couldn't help myself.)
Didn't get much sleep last night but then, I never do before a trip. Just lucky that way I guess. Got an hour to wait until my flight boards. I'm flying Southwest Airlines (motto" "Maybe you'll get there!!) Talk about the bottom of the food chain! I hope they have real pilots; I dread getting seated with the rest of the herd and seeing flight attendant in the pilot's seat due to cutbacks.
(This reminds me that I have not had a new will created. Moot point I guess.)
I've got my Walkman, tapes, a book, two magazines, extra batteries, Dramamine, and enough food to feed the flight.
Not that I'm going to.
Unless there's a cute flight attendant that's willing to trade sex for for Rice Krispie treats. (Fingers crossed.)
Overcast this morning. Pretty typical of late. Cold this morning too. Coldest yet; frost on the ground and rooftops. Somber.
I didn't know that that the airport terminal had CNN piped in on closed-circuit television. Progress. The guy next to me has his headphones on but they "leak" enough for me to mentally sing along with Arosmith's "Sweet Emotion." I hope they don't have a problem with my Walkman.
The opening scene from Macbeth is sitting across from me in the waiting area:
Act I, Scene I (An open place)
1st Woman: "When shall we three meet again?"
2nd Woman: "When the boarding does begin, when the waiting line is thin."
3rd Woman: "Does this sweater make me look fat?"
Sadly, that last line was a direct quote. (Sigh) With my karma, they'll be surrounding me on the plane.
Thirty minutes to go.
A couple of guys are already trying to jockey for position to be the first in line for my flight.
Amazing. The three women I alluded to a few minutes ago just paused for a collective breath. Scary.
Great, it's going to be a cattle call: take a number, fight for a seat. Could be panic. I hope I don't have to hurt anyone.
As I'm getting ready to leave, I'm seeing the true Seattle "Grunge look." Lots of pasty white males between 18-30 with long, nanky hair/beards, nappy clothes sporting coffee cups. Freaks.
The waiting area is starting to get filled to capacity. My stress is slowly starting to increase. I REALLY hope my carry on hang up bag will fit in the test-thingy so it'll be able to go on. It did get out here, but this is a different airline. (See previous page.)
With a little bit of luck (and a well-placed elbow) I ought to have a pretty low boarding number. I guess we'll see.
Better move now, the cattle are starting to trudge to the ticket-trough. More later.
10:50 and I was number three in line. looks good so far. Still a little concerned about the garment bag. I may have to do some creative cramming. Maybe it won't be a problem.
Finally starting to get hungry. About time too. I've got all sorts of food but no drinks. I'll wait until I get dizzy, then I can blame it on the pilot.
Older crowd for my flight. Fine with me, as long as no one bugs me. Still overcast. I suppose there would be some poetic justice if I didn't see sunshine until I get into the South.
Boy! Lots of "fashion emergencies" around here. (Yellow tie with grey pants?! PLEASE!) Oh well, like Pontius Pilate, I wash my hands of this place. I'm not going to look at it as though I lost; I'm going to look at it as though I walked away to fight again later.
Wish I could "catnap." No way. Too many unknowns and only one me. I'll stay paranoid, thanks.
Had a nice talk with Julie last night. After 32 years I finally realized that, despite her temper, she's a really good human being. I think we made a lot of progress in our new relationship as adults.
Fifty minutes until the herd will be allowed to scramble for their seats. Right now it doesn't look like overcrowding will be a problem. Hope not. Jesus, lots of kids. This scares me worse than terrorists. At least they have an agenda; babies take NO prisoners.
Need to remember that I'm on flight 1578 to Los Angeles.
From what I can tell, the weather is clear in the South. this suits me right down to the ground. So to speak.
More and more people. they look like the villagers in a post-apocalyptic movie.
I'm rambling. I'm sleepy. More later."
That was all from that day. I'll peruse the journal and see if there are any other tidbits that I think are worth posting.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Another Grillin' Day
Shamefully, I just haven't felt much like writing these past several days. The irony is: I'd really like to be a serious author. I simply don't have the self-discipline to make it. I've read numerous works by famous/prolific authors who all claim that endeavoring authors should write every single day. Doesn't matter what you write so long as you get into the habit.
That makes sense actually. I was able to do the unthinkable two years ago and go to the gym (with very little failure) every other day for about 4 months solid. It became more than just a habit at that point. While I can't honestly claim that my body began to crave the workouts, I did keenly feel the need to go exercise. (At one point it had snowed about 5 inches and rather than think, "Oh cool, I'm going to make a snow fort!" I thought, "Damn. How am I supposed to get to the gym now?")
Pretty amazing, huh?
I guess it would be easier for me to podcast than type. Then, in theory at least, I could say what I wanted to and edit ipso facto. Oh well, one step at a time. I need to finish the basic concepts of Garage Band 2009 before I tackle the advanced stuff.
So, I learned that my old friend from UNA days, Mark Webb, has been divorced for a few years now. I learned this from Bill Barnett who wasn't sure if there were any truth to the story, and asked me if I knew. I contacted Diane DuBois who was kind enough to let me know that, not only had Mark and Jane been divorced for three years, Mark's younger brother, Shaun, did a few days ago.
Wow. I knew that Mark was a very private person, but I can't help but feel a bit hurt that he hadn't mentioned the divorce to me before now. Of course, I realize that I'm basing another person's behavior on my system. That's not only unfair, it's flat out wrong. If I'd learned to be cognizant of that innate ability in me I might have saved myself some hurt friends in the past.
Woulda, coulda, shoulda.
No promises, but tomorrow I'm going to attempt to find my old journal from a decade ago and see if I can't transpose some of the better writings in it to my blog.
Today, was another beautiful "grillin' day." Cerulean skies with just a hint of a crisp breeze blowing the cherry wood smoke over the back deck. Three pounds of lean ground beef and two packets of Lipton's Beefy Onion Soup Mix later and I had an awesome baker's dozen of fresh hamburger patties. Thank you, Ronnie Colvin for teaching me how to make these bowel-shattering bits of beef. (Not that I'll make hamburgers out of them per Se; I'm back on my 90%+ protein only diet and just need the pure protein.)
Okay, after a bit of digging I found my old journal. Looks like the first date in it is from July 9Th, 1998. Jeez, just glancing through this thing has got me blushing and embarrassed. So, I'll be skipping the more whiny and self-absorbed parts.
Promise.
That makes sense actually. I was able to do the unthinkable two years ago and go to the gym (with very little failure) every other day for about 4 months solid. It became more than just a habit at that point. While I can't honestly claim that my body began to crave the workouts, I did keenly feel the need to go exercise. (At one point it had snowed about 5 inches and rather than think, "Oh cool, I'm going to make a snow fort!" I thought, "Damn. How am I supposed to get to the gym now?")
Pretty amazing, huh?
I guess it would be easier for me to podcast than type. Then, in theory at least, I could say what I wanted to and edit ipso facto. Oh well, one step at a time. I need to finish the basic concepts of Garage Band 2009 before I tackle the advanced stuff.
So, I learned that my old friend from UNA days, Mark Webb, has been divorced for a few years now. I learned this from Bill Barnett who wasn't sure if there were any truth to the story, and asked me if I knew. I contacted Diane DuBois who was kind enough to let me know that, not only had Mark and Jane been divorced for three years, Mark's younger brother, Shaun, did a few days ago.
Wow. I knew that Mark was a very private person, but I can't help but feel a bit hurt that he hadn't mentioned the divorce to me before now. Of course, I realize that I'm basing another person's behavior on my system. That's not only unfair, it's flat out wrong. If I'd learned to be cognizant of that innate ability in me I might have saved myself some hurt friends in the past.
Woulda, coulda, shoulda.
No promises, but tomorrow I'm going to attempt to find my old journal from a decade ago and see if I can't transpose some of the better writings in it to my blog.
Today, was another beautiful "grillin' day." Cerulean skies with just a hint of a crisp breeze blowing the cherry wood smoke over the back deck. Three pounds of lean ground beef and two packets of Lipton's Beefy Onion Soup Mix later and I had an awesome baker's dozen of fresh hamburger patties. Thank you, Ronnie Colvin for teaching me how to make these bowel-shattering bits of beef. (Not that I'll make hamburgers out of them per Se; I'm back on my 90%+ protein only diet and just need the pure protein.)
Okay, after a bit of digging I found my old journal. Looks like the first date in it is from July 9Th, 1998. Jeez, just glancing through this thing has got me blushing and embarrassed. So, I'll be skipping the more whiny and self-absorbed parts.
Promise.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Climbing on the packed-to-capacity bandwagon...
Okay, I'm going to weigh in on the Kanye West thing. I wish that Taylor Swift hadn't been so caught off guard that she was able to ream West's cognac-swilling @ss a new one. That would have been the perfect medium. As to whether it was all a PR stunt by West to heighten his "bad boy" image I can't say. What I can say about Kanye West is this:
(Warning extreme vulgarity follows. If you're squeamish, please skip the next sentence.)
After seeing all the crap that Kanye West has pulled in public for years now, I'm wholeheartedly of the opinion that his father should have pulled out and shot him on the wall.
Welcome back! Let's leave that sad commentary where it is. And speaking of sad news, Patrick Swayze died today. I was never a fan of his movies (although, let's face it, "Road House" was a special kinda bad) but he seemed like a genuinely good guy and I'm sorry that he's gone.
Not much else to mention today.
(Warning extreme vulgarity follows. If you're squeamish, please skip the next sentence.)
After seeing all the crap that Kanye West has pulled in public for years now, I'm wholeheartedly of the opinion that his father should have pulled out and shot him on the wall.
Welcome back! Let's leave that sad commentary where it is. And speaking of sad news, Patrick Swayze died today. I was never a fan of his movies (although, let's face it, "Road House" was a special kinda bad) but he seemed like a genuinely good guy and I'm sorry that he's gone.
Not much else to mention today.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A Grillin' Day
Lovely day today: bright, sunny, breezy and hovered around the high 60's low 70's. A perfect day for grilling. Which I did. Ground beef, turkey patties, and soy-hamburger patties. That ought to tide me over for my protein for awhile.
Had a lovely online chat with a dear old friend today which caused me to ruminate on something I wrote on my first or second post last week. I mentioned that I'd been engaged twice, but I realized this evening that it's all a matter of perspective: I think it's probably more realistic to say one and a half times. I'm being coy, but I recall that, without a ring to accompany the proposal, she saw it in a different light.
Okay, enough about that. To say that the point is moot is a vast understatement.
Amusing anecdote: yesterday the phone rang and it was our next door neighbor, Geri. She called us to say that she and her husband were on their way to Boise, Idaho for a craft fair (Geri has a small crafts business) and she wondered if they'd locked their front door. Well, we keep a spare key to feed her cat while they're away, so I got the key and assured Geri that it'd be no problem.
"I've got the spare key, so I'll just go over right now and check. If you did leave it unlocked, I'll call to let you know." I could FEEL Geri's bafflement before she spoke slowly, as if to a nephew with learning difficulties, "No ... just lock the door." I stared at the spare key in my hand and replied, "well, yeah, I wouldn't ... I mean, of course I'll lo- ... have a safe trip to Boise!"
It has been a puzzlement to me for most of my life why people assume I'm slow-witted. Possessing a genius-level IQ, I can only conclude that I have a rare gift for NOT communicating my thoughts well at ALL. People tend to jump to conclusions based on what I say and what I'm doing at the time.
Hypothetical example: I could be cleaning my pistol and casually ask friends around me if anyone would like to go to Burger King for lunch. Instantly, SOMEone will make the leap of logic that I'm going to shoot people at a Burger King out of anger or frustration. it's actually ALL coincidence.
You see what I mean?
Or, I could have walked in the house after a baseball game on a Sunday afternoon with band friends holding a ball bat. I might say, "I need to remember to fix my sticking bedroom door." My father would automatically assume I was going to hammer the door with the ball bat. I could understand him drawing the conclusion that I was going to use the bat, but rather than ask how I was going to attempt the door repair he'd just assume what was obvious to him. A great many people do not think to ask me what my intentions are, they just expect the worst.
Story of my life.
One of my favorite theatre stories to tell is of an early rehearsal of Julius Caesar. I was in the opening scene, and our director, Jim Davis, was trying to teach us "old school" acting: every move poised and accented by a hand gesture etc to really drive home the point. Very over-the-top. After watching him take some actors hands and move them into precisely the position he wanted for them to deliver the line, he walked over to me and gave me my directions to enter and place myself upstage.
I stupidly asked, "what should I do with my hands?" Since everyone else had his ministrations, I wondered if he'd forgotten me. Mister Davis chuckled in his deep, baritone voice and from the darkness of the house seats, I heard him drawl, "they'll dangle very nicely at the ends of your arms."
Instant hilarity. EVERYONE laughed to the point of concern over strokes and audible flatulentence.
I looked like a rank amateur and it was, I still feel, a very legitimate question. It's gone down in the annals of history at UNA's Norton Auditorium.
Frustrating to be misunderstood. I like to think that my brain's just working so fast that other's can't keep up with me and get confused. Of course, I am a Leo. I would think that.
Okay, enough on that topic.
I watched one of my favorite "Dr. Who" episodes today. David Tennant is the MAN. I'll be sorry to see him move on. To be fair, of course, I didn't think ANYone could replace Christopher Eccleston's Doctor and David Tennant made me a believer in short order. I'll be very curious to see how the new, younger actor does in his stint as the last of the time lords.
Come to think of it, I was very sad to see Pierce Brosnan no longer be James Bond (despite how badly the second half of "Die Another Day" sucked.) I was very against Daniel Craig taking over the franchise and came out of "Casino Royale" as a huge fan. (We won't talk about how inane most of "Quantum of Solace" was.) I still think Gerard Butler would have been a great Bond, but that's just me.
Right. Enough for one day. Sleepy time.
Had a lovely online chat with a dear old friend today which caused me to ruminate on something I wrote on my first or second post last week. I mentioned that I'd been engaged twice, but I realized this evening that it's all a matter of perspective: I think it's probably more realistic to say one and a half times. I'm being coy, but I recall that, without a ring to accompany the proposal, she saw it in a different light.
Okay, enough about that. To say that the point is moot is a vast understatement.
Amusing anecdote: yesterday the phone rang and it was our next door neighbor, Geri. She called us to say that she and her husband were on their way to Boise, Idaho for a craft fair (Geri has a small crafts business) and she wondered if they'd locked their front door. Well, we keep a spare key to feed her cat while they're away, so I got the key and assured Geri that it'd be no problem.
"I've got the spare key, so I'll just go over right now and check. If you did leave it unlocked, I'll call to let you know." I could FEEL Geri's bafflement before she spoke slowly, as if to a nephew with learning difficulties, "No ... just lock the door." I stared at the spare key in my hand and replied, "well, yeah, I wouldn't ... I mean, of course I'll lo- ... have a safe trip to Boise!"
It has been a puzzlement to me for most of my life why people assume I'm slow-witted. Possessing a genius-level IQ, I can only conclude that I have a rare gift for NOT communicating my thoughts well at ALL. People tend to jump to conclusions based on what I say and what I'm doing at the time.
Hypothetical example: I could be cleaning my pistol and casually ask friends around me if anyone would like to go to Burger King for lunch. Instantly, SOMEone will make the leap of logic that I'm going to shoot people at a Burger King out of anger or frustration. it's actually ALL coincidence.
You see what I mean?
Or, I could have walked in the house after a baseball game on a Sunday afternoon with band friends holding a ball bat. I might say, "I need to remember to fix my sticking bedroom door." My father would automatically assume I was going to hammer the door with the ball bat. I could understand him drawing the conclusion that I was going to use the bat, but rather than ask how I was going to attempt the door repair he'd just assume what was obvious to him. A great many people do not think to ask me what my intentions are, they just expect the worst.
Story of my life.
One of my favorite theatre stories to tell is of an early rehearsal of Julius Caesar. I was in the opening scene, and our director, Jim Davis, was trying to teach us "old school" acting: every move poised and accented by a hand gesture etc to really drive home the point. Very over-the-top. After watching him take some actors hands and move them into precisely the position he wanted for them to deliver the line, he walked over to me and gave me my directions to enter and place myself upstage.
I stupidly asked, "what should I do with my hands?" Since everyone else had his ministrations, I wondered if he'd forgotten me. Mister Davis chuckled in his deep, baritone voice and from the darkness of the house seats, I heard him drawl, "they'll dangle very nicely at the ends of your arms."
Instant hilarity. EVERYONE laughed to the point of concern over strokes and audible flatulentence.
I looked like a rank amateur and it was, I still feel, a very legitimate question. It's gone down in the annals of history at UNA's Norton Auditorium.
Frustrating to be misunderstood. I like to think that my brain's just working so fast that other's can't keep up with me and get confused. Of course, I am a Leo. I would think that.
Okay, enough on that topic.
I watched one of my favorite "Dr. Who" episodes today. David Tennant is the MAN. I'll be sorry to see him move on. To be fair, of course, I didn't think ANYone could replace Christopher Eccleston's Doctor and David Tennant made me a believer in short order. I'll be very curious to see how the new, younger actor does in his stint as the last of the time lords.
Come to think of it, I was very sad to see Pierce Brosnan no longer be James Bond (despite how badly the second half of "Die Another Day" sucked.) I was very against Daniel Craig taking over the franchise and came out of "Casino Royale" as a huge fan. (We won't talk about how inane most of "Quantum of Solace" was.) I still think Gerard Butler would have been a great Bond, but that's just me.
Right. Enough for one day. Sleepy time.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
09/09/09
Well, it's the ninth day in the ninth month of the ninth year of the new millenium and I suppose all I need to really cap the day off is to be listening "Revolution #9. Since I was never fond of that ... oh let's be generous and call it "song," I'll probably just listen to Beethovan's "Ode to Joy" Symphony and call it good.
Still, it is kind of cool to be able to say that I've seen this day since it'll be 1000 years before it comes around again.
Well the job interview at Goodwill did not titillate me. I definitely got mixed signals. The general manager and her assistant manager co-interviewed me for about 45 minutes and, other than my blathering at times and blushing furiously, I thought it went rather well. However, towards the end of the interview the manager explained that they had a lot of people to interview and that the entire Goodwill Organization was always looking for talented people. Further, that if I didn't get hired there that my skills would be put forth and that another Goodwill store might decide that we were a good fit for each other. I took this to mean that she wasn't impressed but would send forth my name into the ether to see if anyone was interested in me. At least that was positive.
Then she said to call her in "a few weeks to see what was going on." Now, I've been brushed off by companies and beautiful women too numerous to count and I've developed a sixth sense as to when I'm being politely (if inexorably) being shown the door. This is what that felt like. maybe I'm being paranoid ... it's certainly not the first time.
In other news, I'm fighting off a brand new cold that Julie and Scott picked up from their forced confinement with their ... acquaintance (?) Veronica during the Labor Day Weekend. (Sigh.) Like I wasn't still getting over the last chest cold. Oh well, not their fault. They'll just pull a Typhoid Mary and hand it off to me.
Did NOT accomplish much today: cleaned some in the kitchen and my room. Bought some groceries and more anti-candida medicine. It seems to REALLY help quash the cravings for carbs and sweets. That's going to be imperative if I'm to get back on track to drop more of this weight. Very frustrating to have lost 20+ pounds only to gain 8 of it back 2 weeks after surgery.
Had a very nice Labor Day weekend despite the cold rain. Nice to have some quiet time around the house with Julie and Scott gone. Spent a lovely afternoon with my friends, Carolyn and Steve, having an early dinner at The Olive Garden and then going to Half-Price Books in Redmond. I picked up several tasty items that I'm looking forward to reading sometime soon.
Speaking of looking forward to something: I'm most anxious for Windows 7 to come out in October. It's not that I've embraced computers at last, it's just that I currently have the beta version of 7 on my machine at present and there are few compatibility bugs that crop up from time to time. Most notably while I'm playing "Bioshock." (For those who aren't familar with this game, it is undoubtedly one of the top three creepiest games I've EVER played. [The other two being "7Th Guest," and "The Undying."] The premise s that you're the sole survivor of a small plane crash in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in 1960. By some miracle you notice a concrete structure jutting up from the depths and realize its a stairway that leads to a bathysphere that takes you down MANY leagues under water to a fantastic city that was built in secret in the 1940's-50's. The city was created and built by a genius who wanted the freedom to continue with genetic experiments to "upgrade" people via mutation. So, you have untold hundreds of crazed mutated "splicers" wandering around muttering to themselves in the gloom of this dying city and trying to kill you. Your objective is to find this one man named "Atlas" who says he'll help you escape if you help him find his family. The only problem there is that "Atlas" is just a voice on a P.A. system that guides you through. You find weapons and money to buy upgrades and inject yourself with DNA-altering chemicals to gain super powers to help keep you alive. While all this is going on, eerie, 1940's-50's music is playing in the background like a lonely jukebox. Creepy but very cool and compelling game.)
Right. That's all the news for now. More as events warrant.
Still, it is kind of cool to be able to say that I've seen this day since it'll be 1000 years before it comes around again.
Well the job interview at Goodwill did not titillate me. I definitely got mixed signals. The general manager and her assistant manager co-interviewed me for about 45 minutes and, other than my blathering at times and blushing furiously, I thought it went rather well. However, towards the end of the interview the manager explained that they had a lot of people to interview and that the entire Goodwill Organization was always looking for talented people. Further, that if I didn't get hired there that my skills would be put forth and that another Goodwill store might decide that we were a good fit for each other. I took this to mean that she wasn't impressed but would send forth my name into the ether to see if anyone was interested in me. At least that was positive.
Then she said to call her in "a few weeks to see what was going on." Now, I've been brushed off by companies and beautiful women too numerous to count and I've developed a sixth sense as to when I'm being politely (if inexorably) being shown the door. This is what that felt like. maybe I'm being paranoid ... it's certainly not the first time.
In other news, I'm fighting off a brand new cold that Julie and Scott picked up from their forced confinement with their ... acquaintance (?) Veronica during the Labor Day Weekend. (Sigh.) Like I wasn't still getting over the last chest cold. Oh well, not their fault. They'll just pull a Typhoid Mary and hand it off to me.
Did NOT accomplish much today: cleaned some in the kitchen and my room. Bought some groceries and more anti-candida medicine. It seems to REALLY help quash the cravings for carbs and sweets. That's going to be imperative if I'm to get back on track to drop more of this weight. Very frustrating to have lost 20+ pounds only to gain 8 of it back 2 weeks after surgery.
Had a very nice Labor Day weekend despite the cold rain. Nice to have some quiet time around the house with Julie and Scott gone. Spent a lovely afternoon with my friends, Carolyn and Steve, having an early dinner at The Olive Garden and then going to Half-Price Books in Redmond. I picked up several tasty items that I'm looking forward to reading sometime soon.
Speaking of looking forward to something: I'm most anxious for Windows 7 to come out in October. It's not that I've embraced computers at last, it's just that I currently have the beta version of 7 on my machine at present and there are few compatibility bugs that crop up from time to time. Most notably while I'm playing "Bioshock." (For those who aren't familar with this game, it is undoubtedly one of the top three creepiest games I've EVER played. [The other two being "7Th Guest," and "The Undying."] The premise s that you're the sole survivor of a small plane crash in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in 1960. By some miracle you notice a concrete structure jutting up from the depths and realize its a stairway that leads to a bathysphere that takes you down MANY leagues under water to a fantastic city that was built in secret in the 1940's-50's. The city was created and built by a genius who wanted the freedom to continue with genetic experiments to "upgrade" people via mutation. So, you have untold hundreds of crazed mutated "splicers" wandering around muttering to themselves in the gloom of this dying city and trying to kill you. Your objective is to find this one man named "Atlas" who says he'll help you escape if you help him find his family. The only problem there is that "Atlas" is just a voice on a P.A. system that guides you through. You find weapons and money to buy upgrades and inject yourself with DNA-altering chemicals to gain super powers to help keep you alive. While all this is going on, eerie, 1940's-50's music is playing in the background like a lonely jukebox. Creepy but very cool and compelling game.)
Right. That's all the news for now. More as events warrant.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Bad Dream
Had a very disturbing dream last night: for whatever reason, the country was operating on a personal I.D. that was tatooed onto every person's wrist. those with no tatoo were rounded up and being "reeducated."
My old high school friend, Tom Moseley, was at our house in Huntsville, and noticing we had no I.D. marks, was going to notify the authorities. Grabbing the first weapon I could find, a fork, I cut open Tom's throat and held him down while thrashed around bleeding out. My sister threw a towel over him to mask the sight, but I can still "feel" Tom's death throes as I held him down until he lay still.
I woke up and lept out of bed with tears in my eyes and PROFOUNDLY shaken. It felt absolutely real, and I'm bothered by how quickly I made the decision to kill. I can only mitigate that decision by saying that A) my whole family's lives lay in the balance and B) it was a hydrocodone/methocarbamol-induced dream.
That doesn't make it any less frightening for me though.
My old high school friend, Tom Moseley, was at our house in Huntsville, and noticing we had no I.D. marks, was going to notify the authorities. Grabbing the first weapon I could find, a fork, I cut open Tom's throat and held him down while thrashed around bleeding out. My sister threw a towel over him to mask the sight, but I can still "feel" Tom's death throes as I held him down until he lay still.
I woke up and lept out of bed with tears in my eyes and PROFOUNDLY shaken. It felt absolutely real, and I'm bothered by how quickly I made the decision to kill. I can only mitigate that decision by saying that A) my whole family's lives lay in the balance and B) it was a hydrocodone/methocarbamol-induced dream.
That doesn't make it any less frightening for me though.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
09/04/09
I've been remiss these past few days in logging what's going on. I guess I've been a bit concerned about this pain in my right lower abdomen.
Dr. Perrin, the surgeon, say that it is either A) a pulled/torn muscle or B) [if the pain persiste for more than 4 weeks] a hiatal hernia. Joy. Bottom line is I'm no closer to the gym than I was prior to the gallbladder being removed on 8/13/09. I'll just see what happens and take ibuprofen or pain meds as necessary.
I shaved my head today. Of course that's a misnomer; I didn't actually shave it, I buzzed it down to almost nothing with an electric trimmer. Rather than Yul Brenner, think Bruce Willis with a head having "5 o'clock shadow." I like it this way, it's MUCH easier to care for and saves on shampoos and conditioners. (Of course, I still condition my beard, but I digress.)
My sister, Julie, and brother-in-law, Scott leave tomorrow for a long Labor Day weekend on Whidbey Island, about 50 miles from our house. They're going to split the cost of renting a house with a (I'm convinced) psychopath named Veronica. Why? I have no idea. I suppose the thought is just to enjoy the change of scenery and to try and ignore her nonstop ravings. Fine with me. Gives me some time to myself. And Titan. Mustn't forget the faithful black lab.
I have a job interview next Tuesday for an assistant manager position at the Goodwill in Tukwila. (Tukwila [pronounced "tuk-willa"] is a township just on the other side of Renton, which is on the other side of where we live.) I have no feel for how much they might pay and what sort of benefits might be involved, but I have a good feeling about it. We'll see how it goes.
Ibuprofen (600 mgs) is kicking in. Sleepy. Bed time.
Dr. Perrin, the surgeon, say that it is either A) a pulled/torn muscle or B) [if the pain persiste for more than 4 weeks] a hiatal hernia. Joy. Bottom line is I'm no closer to the gym than I was prior to the gallbladder being removed on 8/13/09. I'll just see what happens and take ibuprofen or pain meds as necessary.
I shaved my head today. Of course that's a misnomer; I didn't actually shave it, I buzzed it down to almost nothing with an electric trimmer. Rather than Yul Brenner, think Bruce Willis with a head having "5 o'clock shadow." I like it this way, it's MUCH easier to care for and saves on shampoos and conditioners. (Of course, I still condition my beard, but I digress.)
My sister, Julie, and brother-in-law, Scott leave tomorrow for a long Labor Day weekend on Whidbey Island, about 50 miles from our house. They're going to split the cost of renting a house with a (I'm convinced) psychopath named Veronica. Why? I have no idea. I suppose the thought is just to enjoy the change of scenery and to try and ignore her nonstop ravings. Fine with me. Gives me some time to myself. And Titan. Mustn't forget the faithful black lab.
I have a job interview next Tuesday for an assistant manager position at the Goodwill in Tukwila. (Tukwila [pronounced "tuk-willa"] is a township just on the other side of Renton, which is on the other side of where we live.) I have no feel for how much they might pay and what sort of benefits might be involved, but I have a good feeling about it. We'll see how it goes.
Ibuprofen (600 mgs) is kicking in. Sleepy. Bed time.
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