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 |   A little bit of everything, colored my own way. |
 BLOG CHALLENGE WINNER FOR SEPTEMBER 2011 AND APRIL 2012!! ** Image ID #1901871 Unavailable **  After almost a year away, I've decided to revisit Blogville. I'm refreshed and ready...this time around it'll be a little different. I'll talk about a little bit of everything...music, sports, retail life, and more. It's not for everyone...you might not like it, but someone you know (and possibly detest) probably will! WHO THE HELL DO I THINK I AM??  We're gonna find out one way or another!  Relax, enjoy, leave a comment, tell your friends... A special thanks to Julie D - PUBLISHED!  for the 2011 Quill Awards image!"There is only one way...it is THE WAY." -Photo Jesus  "Can't you count to one??"  Thanks for stopping by and showing your support!  |
| THE PROMPT: "What is your favorite food? Other than eating it, what other ways do you have to enjoy your favorite food?" What's good, y'all? I'm gonna hafta make this quick today...got a lot on my plate (no pun intended on the prompt). And I just realized there's a baby kitten wandering around the residence that I forgot to tend to. And I left the fan running in the bathroom. Dammit! I used to be a lot more organized. So let's cut to the chase. I know my way somewhat around a kitchen. I can bastardize a recipe with the best of 'em, getting all mad-scientisty with ingredients. But when all is said and done, my favorite foods are tacos and pizza...in no particular order, and whenever possible, combined in either fashion. Cheese. Meat. Bread. It doesn't get much easier than that. But what food out there actually is more versatile? Let's go back to what is known by many as the origin of lotsa things...the egg. It's not just for breakfast. Or lunch. Or vandalization. Or the creation of some living things. Sure, when cracked open and prepared properly, there is almost no greater a simple pleasure than the incredible, edible egg (and yes, I'm borrowing that line from the Dairy/Agriculture Council). But if you know anything about me, nothing in life is ever done the simple way. Frying an egg for a few minutes, while satisfying to the hungry belly, sometimes leaves you with more time on your hands than you're accustomed to or care to have at your disposal. I used to do some fantastic things with eggs, especially on Mondays. Why Mondays? Because Monday was my day off from work, and it was garbage night where I used to live. One of my chores was to rid the fridge of whatever leftovers existed after the teenagers I roomed with had their run of the remains. It became a method of killing two birds with one frying pan...make some toast, crack a few eggs, toss in some leftovers, top with the appropriate condiments, load the dishwasher with the empty containers, take out the trash, and voila! Breakfast/lunch was served and chores were done, a la "The Garbage Plate". Almost anything in the fridge was fair game. Hot dogs and beans, rice, canned tomatoes, virtually any kind of cooked meat, cheese, you name it, and if it was refidgeratable, I probably used it. But the best culinary use I ever made of eggs? Ahhh, my mouth waters thinking about it. We went to a party once at my buddy G-Stamm's. His girl makes a phenomenal Chicken Wing Dip. I won't get into the particulars of its creation (you have the internet; you can do a little research ), other than it's probably a combination of cream cheese, cheddar cheese, shredded chicken and Frank's Red Hot Sauce (which, frankly, can go with just about anything).So we get to this party, and I start becoming social with the cheese tray...until I found the holy grail of items that go well with tortilla chips. I didn't just eat the damn dip; I came awfully close to making out with the platter of dip as well. At the end of the night, G's girl gave us almost a whole 'nother bowl of this creamy goodness. I was thankful, to say the least. A day or two later, there I was, rummaging through the fridge. We were awfully light on leftovers, but I knew I wanted some kind of omelet. I had one of those "aha!" moments. I scrambled up some eggs, prepared the omelet as usual, and before it was ready for folding, I spooned in a healthy amount of chicken wing dip. It was possibly the most heavenly thing I've ever done with eggs, ever. At least anything I've ever done with eggs that was topped with salsa. Now, it's my understanding that the "suggested genre" of this prompt is supposed to be fiction. Alas, I cannot make up something so beautiful and have it not be true. So, you're gonna hafta take my word on it. Eggs...they're not just playthings and baby-making needs. MUSICAL BREAK!! I present to you an article that appeared recently in The Buffalo News regarding one of my other favorite foods... http://www.buffalonews.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20121031/LIFE/121039939 I've never heard of this group, so I'm YouTubeing them but I can't find the damn song, so this will have to do. VITAL STATS:  I haven't had a good slice of pizza in awhile actually...and I may not in a little while more. Papa John's pizza is giving away two million large pizzas this football season, and I got an email yesterday saying I won one of 'em. The only problem? I'm not a huge fan of their food. But I am a fan of free, so I suppose they're worth another chance. Now if I'd only win the damn iPad contest I entered a few days ago, I'd be happy. But that's how these things work...who ever wins something they can really use? If I ever win anything, it's usually something I dislike and/or don't need. On the move...got stuff to do y'all.Gonna get out and get on the move. Time's wastin' and it's Friday, which means there's only scant few hours left to wait for messages to be returned and get anything else done before the weekend, which is normally a good time unless you would prefer that things you really need to do could be done at places that would have convenient weekend hours. My things don't, so it's time for me to shut this down for now. Peace, pizza, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Discuss Cancer." What's up everybody? Thanks to our pal at the Canadian Consulate, Brother Nature , it seems as the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  has been revived after a summer off, probably spent debauching in some kind of island getaway or something. And I didn't even get a souvenier.Y'all know how I spent my summer, so I'll skip the details and just say thanks to Joel for the role he's playing in Nov Movember's month of blogging. I'd planned on coming back a little more frequently anyway, as my time, patience, internet connectivity and headspace allows. And if you're familiar with my efforts in previous challenges, well, let's just say we've dove right into the depressing prompts in a hurry this month, and I'll be wasting no time in circumventing today's nudge. Cancer. Nobody likes to hear the word. And everybody's connected to it in some way...ya know how every actor/actress who's ever had at least a bit part in any cinematic attempt at appeasing the film-going masses has somehow graced the same screen as Kevin Bacon to the 6th degree? That's cancer in the medical world to people who know other people. And frankly, everyone else is going to be writing about who they've lost and what it means and no thanks  . That's not why I'm here today. Sort of.I have the means in this here resurrected spot of daily social media sharing of, well, sharing. So that's what I'm gonna do. And I'll admit, I'm only vaguely familiar with this website, but not its purpose. http://us.movember.com/ The gist is for men to create a profile, shave by November 1st, collect donations, and it all supports funding for cancer research. Which I support, in spirit only. See, I'm selfish. Having been of the age and need to shave my face since I was 12 years old, and knowing that to me it's a pain in the ass having to shave, and not wanting to smash my beliefs up against your eyeballs as you read this, I decided a long time ago that unless it was absolutely required, I'd shave on my terms, and it doesn't cost you a cent of your hard-earned cash for a good cause. So donate at your desire, or don't, or just do something nice for someone that doesn't cause any harm to facial hair. I don't really care...just do. I will say that in lieu of donating, I have been growing a mustache since the middle of summer, and I wish I had a picture handy to prove it, because it is one massive oversized soup strainer if I may say so. Trust me...this lip sweater is a beast and a force to be reckoned with. My woman repellant is banned is several countries and restricted by many more religions. Truth be told, it would probably live in infamy and in memory only if this "grow facial hair and hand over cash" thing wasn't such a global phenomenon, but it is. I'll keep the fu-manchu for the rest of the month I suppose, in honor of those men willing enough to sport some whiskers on their otherwise silky-smooth babyfaces. But I make no guarantees once the calendar flips to December. Eating and drinking is a chore onto itself at times with this animal on my face...no joke. MUSICAL BREAK!! I'm aware that I may have shared the following clip before, but in the world of art that is the setting of music to a story filmed with actors, this may be one of the greatest videos of all time, and its purpose it twofold: 1) It's kind of how I feel today in general and it features my lunch, and 2) Stick around for the end and Paco's fake stellar mustache. Maybe that's threefold, but who's keeping score? Not me. VITAL STATS:  If clockin' zzz's were currency, I'd be broke. For real. No matter what I do, don't do, take or don't take, nothing puts me down at a decent hour anymore, or keeps me down. I'm anticipating many more entertaining late-nite tweets (@Fivesixer) that amuse pretty much me and maybe a few others.  Not gonna lie...finally got around to deleting a bunch of people and pics that aren't really necessary to my existence anymore on Facebook. And seeing them just before they're gone forever is a sad process that's vital to the cleanliness of one's mental health, I believe. Seeing as how I've pretty much been scrubbed and sanitized from their realms anyway, it's just another rung on the ladder of climbing back into the person I once was before them. And it's a big ladder, it's missing a few steps, and I don't care...I'm anxious enough to try to get back up there anyway, as foolish and unready as I might be sometimes. I've never been a patient person to begin with, but I'll figure it out.  I've made one decision...I'm 98% positive I'll be going back to school. Still narrowing down the final options for what and where and how, but come January that's the goal. And now's the time to do something about it. One positive so far that's as tangible as I can feel from the mess the last six months or so has been? I've gotten back into reading books just for the hell of it. I've also discovered that one of my biggest pet peeves is borrowing books from the library, when I know I used to own them at some point. My collection of works from Richard Brautigan and Jack Kerouac, where have you gone??And that's all I've got for today. Gonna hit that lunch in a few minutes I was talking about earlier, tie up some loose ends in other places, hit up another depressing counselling session that's supposed to be anything but, and see where the night takes me. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's up y'all? My internet time has been limited as of late, amid some of the changes going on in my life and times for now. But before I get into that, I've been, I suppose, catching up on some reading lately. Well, is it catching up if you really don't have a list, or are so far behind, or don't quite know where your books even are anymore? I pulled a poetry book out of the library the other day on a whim, and something struck me but I don't know why. I'd post a link, but I can't even find a link. So here it is: Continuous Bullets over Flattened Earth Like horizontal couriers of a vertical fate, Like troop rotations at a service station, Like English lessons in Guantanamo, Like draping towels onto a bronze head, Like spraying love onto the sand. I went as one and came back as two. I went as one and came back as zero. -Linh Dinh I'm not sure how I feel about this, but it moves me in a way that I can't figure out. Maybe it's the last two lines. Discuss this in a manner that suits you best. Now, I suppose, the real reason why you and I are both here at this magical moment where my thoughts intersect with your eyes. My journey among the streets has come to a bit of a meaning. It'll be about two weeks now that I've been granted a place to stay by some friends of mine, and I am beyond grateful. It's almost as if I've come full circle in a way. It's a small, two bedroom house in the town I grew up in...actually about five minutes away from where I spent the first half of my life. In fact, where I'm staying now is directly across the street from where I went to middle school. Although it's no longer a middle school; an "alternative learning program" is what it is now. So I no longer have "a place to live" on the list of things I lose sleep over at night for the time being. This is good. I'm a man of no complaints. Like I said, I'm grateful and appreciative. I stay neat and organized, clean up after myself, and stay mindful of the animals. Oh, did I mention animals? Yes, multiple pets. Dogs and cats. Lots of them. At one point last week the count was something like eight dogs and twelve cats. My friends are "fosters", meaning they house and care for the pets before they get adopted. It is a loving job. I'm sure when they made the choice to become fosters they weren't planning on taking in a human as well. Now, I'm ok with pets. Even if I don't consider myself a cat person. I'm ok with them sleeping with me, even if they take up more room than they righteously deserve. I'm not ok with them brawling in the bed I'm trying to fall asleep in. I swear, there are so many cats in this house that I'm sure at least one of them, based on probability, owns a set of brass knuckles and threatened the rest of the cats in the bed who, like me, were trying to fall asleep. Because that's what normal people do in the middle of the night, ya dig? So yes, one bad kitty spoiled sleepytime for the whole bunch, and I had to exercise my opposable-thumb dominance and give them all the boot out of the room. Cuz that's the rules...either play nice in the bed or sleep someplace else. Anyway, back to the hometown. When I left, although I didn't go far, I swore I wouldn't look back. There wasn't a need to or a want to. It was time to move on and start the next phase of my life. Natural progression and all of that. Now as I walk the streets and look around, I notice how much it's changed, and how much it hasn't. A lot of the stores are gone or have new names. This library that I used to come to as a kid to get the Choose Your Own Adventure books got a paint job and internet access. The churches have consolodated, the apartments have paint jobs, the street signs are bigger and the neighbors aren't as neighborly as they were 20 years ago. Or maybe they are; I'm probably more cynical and prefer to keep to myself a lot more than I used to. And what hasn't changed? The funeral parlors. That's it. They're still the same...same brick buildings, same window trimmings, same bushes, same names, same functions performed in the buildings day in and day out. It's the only industry that has any type of security in itself these days...death never goes out of style and there'll never be a shortage of cadavers or anybody willing to put 'em in the dirt for a few bucks a body, that's for sure. Cheektowaga...the land of the crabapple. Home sweet home. MUSICAL BREAK!! I have a strong tendancy a lot of times to show no emotion whatsoever. Long have I said, "Don't let the highs get too high or the lows get too low". You'll often never know by looking at me what's going on in my head; nor should you just by looking at me. Today I was watching an episode of a tv show on DVD. I used to watch the show a lot when it first came on (no need to glorify it with a name; it's immaterial), but I stopped because I generally have no interest in television most of the time. But, while killing time I got sucked back into this program, and decided to give in. And during a sad moment in the scripted programming, this particular song was playing in the background. There are many plot arcs in this particular show, sometimes as many as there could be at any given moment in my head. My thoughts have been all over the place lately. Reminders of people, places and things subtle and also not-so. It'd be easy to just play this song and say it deals with one particular, obvious aspect of life; mine or anyone else's. But it's not. And like a lot of things I have a hand in, it's more complicated because that's how I prefer to make them be; if anything was easy would it be so worthwhile? The questions wouldn't be worth asking and the answers wouldn't be as fulfilling. So think of this what you will. VITAL STATS:  The newest addition to the house of animals is a really little kitty named Duke. He's so tiny he could easily fit in my size 8.5 Adidas shell toes with room to spare. He's a fun li'l guy, as most cats usually are at that size. He enjoys battling with my fingers and climbing into my underwear while I'm using the facilities No.2-ishly. One of the casulties of my lost summer is my phone. I'm supposed to be having a new one shipped today, so I hung around the house awhile waiting for FedEx, but I gave up. Of course, it probably arrived five minutes after I left. And had I waited around, it never would've came. Such is my luck. It's a cheap piece of crap phone anyway, but whatever. It's better than the two soup cans and piece of string I'm fantasizing about rigging up right now. Oh, October, you fickle bitch! Looks nice out, but it's probably cold so I'll wear jeans and a fleece, but it's warm enough for shorts, and wouldn't you know it, the sun's gone away, the wind's picked up, it looks like a rainstorm (not just rain, but the whole damn storm) and it's 20 minutes of my time walking back home. Go figure.Well, I suppose I could be in a worse mood. We'll see. Hopefully I'll have better news and be more entertaining and insightful next time. Right now, I want to sleep. Wish I could. Peace out, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
Hey y'all. Live and direct from all things downtown today. I feel like I've been running around non-stop. Building to appointment to building to bus to killing time to appointment to bus to store to killing time to eating and then maybe sleeping. Speaking of which, I practically wrote this entry two nights ago, laying awake with my eyes shut, and unable to turn my brain off until I just barely managed a little sleep. So what we're gonna do here is play a little game I like to call "Let's See How Much I Can Remember From Two Days Ago!" And here's your host...  this guy! So, I've been able in what little downtime/quiet time I've had to reflect and look back a little. It's really easy to look at the situation I'm in right now and be angry. Pissed. Bitching and moaning. After all, it's human nature to be upset when things aren't working out the way we hope or thought they would. And if y'all know anything about your boy over here, y'already know I'm pretty fantastic when it comes to complaining. But I can't do that. Not me. Not now. What I must say is...for some reason, I think I've handled this pretty well: being homeless, unceremoniously uprooted from the life I've known for so long into something just as equally uncertain, having little funds, having most of what I own either being stolen from me or basically just unsure of exactly where it is anymore, among other tribulations. I really think had this happened to me at any other point in my life, I may have seriously lost it completely. Don't get me wrong...I've had a few breakdowns here and there, but for the most part, I've done ok up in the headspace. I don't know why I feel this way. It's almost calm...almost peaceful. Maybe it's just the nature of things when life, for lack of a better word, sucks. Maybe it's because I have a better idea of the way things are going now than I did two weeks or two months ago. I don't know. But I do know that I don't want to put my finger on it and run the risk of mixing something up or putting a dirty fingerprinted smudge on it. I'll do my part, and do what I have to do, and let it unfold in front of me. I also know this...and if it seems like it's off-topic, it's not actually. I'd actually meant to mention this about a week and a half ago, but it'd slipped my mind (and you'll understand if I say that I had a lot of things on my mind, and maybe only a small percentage of it actually made it to ears, computer screens, and/or sensical areas of brains anywhere). See, I started this particular blog of primarily pointless internetical madness 18 months ago, for no good reason other than to satisfy the urge to write things from time to time, create some space between my thoughts and actions and the same of those around me, and wander off into a distance that only those who cared to find me would. Never in my life would I have imagined that I'd be sitting here, not only in the situation that I'm currently in, but that after 18 months since I committed to re-entry into Blogville, that I'd be closing in on over 12,000 views. I'm proud and humbled. I've had some pretty good company checking out my thoughts and exploits since I've been here. Not just friends, or family, but really, people all over the place. And by "all over the place", I don't just mean Buffalo, or New York. Or the United States. I mean freaking worldwide. I get comments and emails and love and support from so many people who live all over the planet, and I just want to say thanks. I'm very grateful, even though I have virtually nothing right now. I have friends I talked to last week, to friends I haven't seen in 15 years, to people I've never met in foreign countries and overseas offering words of encouragement and hope. It blows my mind. It really does. It's so fascinating, I just want to look at the bold letters for a minute...I don't know if it'll ever sink in. All I can do is say thank you. But I can't stop there. This experience has taught me many things...about life, about people, and about myself. I haven't had time to mope, be miserable, or let discouragement or negativity get the best of me (or at least get me to a point where I'm baring my teeth and growling). I'm proud of that. For as outgoing as I can be, I haven't let the overwhelmingly private, quiet side take over and brood. I've had no choice but to be open, almost transparent at times. Especially when all I've wanted to do is hide while the angry waves crest and (hopefully) pass by. It's when they don't pass...that's when you realize you know how to swim better than you know just enough about water not to drown. I have to send some love to my closest friends for the way they've been able to encourage, help and support me through all of this mess (and I'll be damned if I don't say "encourage, help and support" over and over and over today). I can't thank them enough. To anyone who's dropped me a line or two along my voyage, know that even if I didn't acknowledge you personally, your words were felt and meant a lot, whether you were near or far. And even if I got off to the rockiest of starts this summer (that statement qualifies for understatement of the year right there) personally, and carried it with me for far too long, I am even thankful for the girl who shall not be named. For all the pain, the hurt, the abandoned feelings, the despair, the anger, all of that shit...I can't hold that inside me any longer. It's not healthy. Though I may never forgive her (I'm not saying never...I just don't know and I don't know if I'll ever want to know), I'm still thankful...thankful for the times spent together, all the good memories that far outweigh what few negative ones shared, and thankful that whatever happened to put me here, whatever misinterpretations or misunderstandings or otherwise foolish nonsense occurred, you get the point. I'm thankful for that as well, for without it I don't know where I could be. Sometimes it only takes one misspoken word, or one poorly-timed phrase, or an intention misdirected, to set a woman's eyes crossed while they accuse you brain arson. And sometimes, while I think I've got a hose full of water to put that fire out, little do I know that I'm squirting $4.19/gallon super octane unleaded gasoline in all of the right folds and creases of her brain to make the explosions louder, faster, and longer-lasting. Go me. Hey, nobody said I was sent here to be loved. But it's nice to see that in some aspects or respects, I still am. I need to do a better job of remembering that more often. MUSICAL BREAK!! When I was writing this entry in my head the other day, I had this song pop up over and over, like it was on repeat or something. I guess there's parts of it I can easily identify with. Or I just love the instrumentation. VITAL STATS:  Either today or tomorrow will be my last day living the life of the homeless at the City Mission. Never underestimate the power of social media. Some old friends came across my tweets and posts about my situation and have offered me a temporary place to lay my weary head until I can get situated in a more permanent fashion. Again, another reason to be grateful.   Finally, after not hearing from the employee relations corporate sinkhole department from work for over a week, I was finally able to speak with someone regarding my position with the company. It's a long story...basically I was supposed to join a counselling program, but didn't have an address, so they couldn't send me the dated info, and once they sent it to my store, I was hospitalized with no way to know they called me and no way to call them, so they closed my case, and I'd have to deal with employee relations get my case reopened. So employee relations says that while they understand that things of a personal nature can happen, they can't guarantee anything, and I'll hear back within 24 hours, or Monday afternoon the latest. I don't even know how I feel about this, honestly. I was so ready actually to get back to the damn grind, but fuck...I feel a little shafted by all of this dramatic red tape and over-corporatizational "policy and procedure" bullshit. Ten years ago, my vacation time and sick time would've been paid out, no questions asked. Now, when you're sick, you best not get sicker, partner. And be prepared to fill out form after form after form of all the same nonsense that you can only get from the company, while being able to orate and emote your testimonial over and over to a bunch of robotic humans who've been desensitized and sterilized to prevent any form of compassion from infecting their thought process when determining what you deserve (punishment-wise or benefit-wise) for missing so much unpaid time at the position they know nothing about and care even less of what you might mean to your community's store. Whew...let me catch my breath...ok. Yeah, so, at least I'm better-prepared for the worst this time. Another reason I couldn't fall asleep the other night? Congestion. I've been getting sick again...sore throat, sneezing, some coughing, and finally some pretty serious nasal stuffage. And food stamps don't buy cough drops, but they will net you plenty of Mountain Dew Amp. #homelessguyproblems  I did manage to catch a good chunk of the presidential debate last night. You know this country's in a world of hurt (pardon the expression) when the media this morning has proclaimed Romney the "winner", while is only memorable quote was saying he loved Big Bird from Sesame Street, and then followed it up by saying he loved the moderator. That's problems. I thought Obama handled himself pretty well actually, but I've also not had an ideally-lived summer either  . Honestly, I really wish we had a three-party system. Whatever happened to the Whig party?? I need a strong, independant challenger to get behind. One who doesn't have banks, pharmaceuticals, the auto industry or foreign powers swingin' from his or her sack...one who cares about "the people" (see what I did there with the quotes? ) I don't want a guy like Ross Perot (I dressed up like him my senior year of high school) or Ralph Nader or any hippie associating with anything "green" to snag a few votes here and there in what's essentially a two-horse race anyway and turn the Electoral College into the McDonalds cashier who can't count back change to you correctly after you give them the right change after their drawer has opened because they don't know how to figure out who wins what state if more than two candidates are involved. I know the song is dated and has less to do with actual politics than the message of the song itself, but Public Enemy's "By The Time I Get To Arizona" features a line that maybe has most informed my feelings about government: "Neither party is mine, not the jackass or the elephant." Yup, I lost the game "Let's See How Much I Can Remember From Two Days Ago!" because dammit, I don't remember anything else I wanted to mention. At least I covered the important things.Ok, that's enough outta me for today. I'm sure as soon as I hit the "Save Entry" button, something else is gonna cross my mind or kick my bruises and make me wish I committed it to the truths so dutifully typed above. Here's to life...cheers if you're still in it, and I'll be around soon (be it here, there, or where you want me to be). Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| Good afternoon folks...let's play catch-up, shall we? It's been one hell of a week since I last typed in this little input box. So I left McDonalds last week and set out on my very first night of street livin'. Homelessness to the core. Only, well, I cheated. Around 11:30pm or so, I hit a 24-hour restaurant that has free wi-fi and ordered a cup of coffee. I stayed there (bless them) for about 12 hours. I was ridiculously jacked on caffeine. Grand total spent (including tip): $3. Tuesday afternoon I wandered over to a large area park. I took in some nature, read a little, wrote a little, pondered some, and then the exhaustion hit me around 4pm. I gathered my belongings, sat down against a shady tree, and dozed off. I dreamt. I was where I was, thinking I was near Ralph Wilson Stadium however (which isn't nearly that close), and I was wandering the streets looking for friends and the stadium because there was a game and I was going. The only parallels? The park I was at was a block away from Lake St. in Lancaster, and the stadium is near Lake St. in Orchard Park/Blasdell/Hamburg. I awoke finally, somewhat confused. And then I realized most everything I had with me was stolen while I slept. All I had left was a shopping back with a shirt, khakis and some toiletries. Gone were my laptop and my backpack. The backpack had my iPod, phone charger, medical info, medications, work-related info, more clothes and toiletries, most recent mail from the beginning of summer, a notebook of everything I'd written over the summer, some reading materials, and, well, pretty much everything I own. Even the $14 state tax return check I'd asked a certain female to cash for me on her next trip to the bank many months ago, but she never did. As if I like very few people these days as it is and trust even less of them, it just goes to show that no matter how sunny of a disposition you can slide over your madface, fools are always out to steal your joy. And your shit too. And that damn $14 would've come in handy this week, that's for damn sure. As it began to get dark, I was at a crossroad. I went into one of the park's picnic shelters, crawled under some table/shelf contraption, and went back to sleep, using just my last bag as a pillow. I don't recommend that, folks...plastic bags are neither toys nor pillows. I woke up around 3am-ish, facing a chilly breeze as I stood, awaiting my next set of moves. I decided to slash legs over to the 24-hour grocery store in a shopping plaza, down the road about 25 minutes or so in walking time. At least I wasn't lugging so much around with me this time. Outside of the store they have a bench, so I rested a few minutes. Or until it started sprinkling, or I had to go to the bathroom, or some combination of both. I did my thing, wandered around for a few minutes, and sat down with a free weekly paper on the bench they've got inside the lobby. Dozed off again, only to be woken by "SECURITY!! To the front lobby!" blasting over the loudspeakers as a janitor tapped me on the foot with his broom and said, "Hey, you gotta go...I'll get in trouble if you're here." Ahhh, Tops Friendly Markets...we hardly knew ye. And back out I went. I tried the bench outside again, but it was still sprinkling. I realized there was a laundromat in the same plaza. I tried the doors and as luck would have it, it was open. Conveniently enough, four chairs side-by-side do a nice bed make for this kid. Got about as decent of a three hour nap as one could hope for in a place where people use washers and dryers. From there I decided to retrace my steps back at the park. From the entrance, to the bridge I was sitting at, to the creek, to the tree, to the shelter. No luck. I decided to find the park's office. Which, of course, was damn near all the way on the other side of the freakin' park. And this ain't no playground y'all. I'm talkin' shelters, nature trails, roads, a disc golf course, joggers, and all that. It's probably a half-hour walk from one end to the other, easily. Found the log-cabined complex that served as the hub of the park's operations. This dude comes out and asks me if I need help. I explain my situation and says he really can't help, but takes my name and number just in case. Turns out I worked with the guy about 15 years ago at a now-closed sporting goods store, and a few years later his dad would become a customer of mine when I worked in electronics retail. Great guy, lots of fun to work with. A nice moment tucked in what's otherwise a tightly wound-up ball of WTF. So back out I went. Stopped and dropped my last $.50 on a bag of chili Fritos and made it to the library. Spent some time there trying to sort through some options. I resigned myself to head back to the City Mission, if space was available. Lucky me had just enough points on my Subway card for a 6" sub and a cookie, so I got a hold of DMFM to meet up and plan what's next. And as I figured, the mission was full for the night. I wound up going to a "drop-in center". They have no beds, just chairs around tables. No tv, very little to eat, and the lowest of the lowest members of society. When the places that take people with noplace else to go can't take anyone else, this is where they end up. And in the morning, time to get down to business. I barely slept, even after taking an OTC sleep aid. In the morning I followed a few people over to the City Mission just for a warm breakfast before heading down to situate me some emergency benefits. And I thought I knew where I was going, but wrong turns love to sneak up on me and snatch me from the path. After a few quick lefts, I figured out where I was headed. For anyone who goes downtown and figures that the taller the buildings are should mean the closer you are, some advice: churches can mislead you if you use this tactic. About 75% of my time spent in a county building on Wednesday was spent being given the runaround, but I did manage to secure a week's stay at the City Mission. Fuckin' beats trying to sleep on the streets. Three hots and a cot...and after a night I actually got checked in this time and given a bunk. I'm sleepin' closer to a ceiling than a floor for the first time since I was probably 10 years old. I'm not gonna lie...being homeless sucks. I'm trying to make the best of it. I'm trying not to get caught up in the why's and how's and all of that shit. I'm trying to keep my chin up and get things the way I need them to be to get back on track, even though the track seems like it's one big giant effing circle most of the time. Part of the way I amuse myself these days is by making light of it without fully embracing it in such a way that makes it seem like this is how I want to live. I've taken to Twitter a lot more recently (@Fivesixer) everytime something happens that I feel like saying something about, and then hashtagging it with #homelessguyproblems. Because fuck it, if I can't at least get myself to laugh a little at this (and believe me, laughs are few and far between up in this), I'll definitely drive myself batshit crazy over this. As if this situation isn't already. And the tweets have gotten a few responses here and there. Too bad my phone's Facebook app doesn't care to notify my when I've got a new inbox message...I don't give a righteous eff you see kay about who said what in some discussion group I don't even remember signing up for; I want to know when people are actually attempting to communicate with me, dammit!! So anyway, that's where I'm at now. Hopefully in a few days, I'll have some better news. MUSICAL BREAK!! So while I was wasting 12 hours in a restaurant watching Facebook, Twitter, ESPN.com and the likes, I streamed their new album, and I absolutely love it. It's part of where I need to be... VITAL STATS:  It's impossible for it to get worse, right?   I stopped back at the Mission this afternoon for lunch, checked my Facebook, and it was hacked. Someone posted a status under my name saying I was hacked. Effing lovely. Who the hell knows what's going on now. I met a really nice guy out here. Seems nice, at least. Little older, from the south. Always bums me a smoke once in awhile. One of the few I make small talk with in this place. He made his plans, asked me what I was doing, and decided to follow me along to the library. Said he was gonna have some cash this afternoon if things worked out, and he'd take me to lunch. Fair enough, I thought...he's just lookin' out for someone younger and not too sure of what's going on right now. Then he says he wants to get a hotel room (he's expecting a small windfall I guess). And I'm thinking nothing of it as we're walking over to Tim Horton's, where he offers to buy me a coffee on the way to his bus stop. He tells me to meet him around 1pm to figure things out, so I say sure. And then he tells me he's got a confession to make...he thinks I'm really cute. Holdupwaitaminute.... now, I'm all for equality and homosexuality and dudes likin' up on dudes and chicks lovin' up on chicks, but your boy over on this side of the computer screen flies strictly hetero, ya dig? I dodged a bullet, as he was not where he said he'd be at 1pm (I swear, I was only waitin' on a cigarette). Now I have to wonder what this dude's intentions really are...he kinda made himself out to be a ladies' man of sorts, but, ummmm....uhhhh....ahhhh, yeah. That's a little weird. But I suppose I should be flattered, I guess.And that's it for today. Not sure when I'll be back around, but it'll be sooner rather than later. Got an idea or two up my sleeve along with some appointments and research and other things I've got on my paper plate the next few days, so we'll see what happens. Y'all be good to each other and yourselves out there. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| Good evening everybody...it's been awhile, hasn't it? Before I get started, I'd like to share something I saw on Facebook a few weeks back. Some of my regulars and friends have already seen it, but it bears repeating. The original posting comes courtesy of one of my all-time Top 5 Canadian musicians, Matthew Good: You walk like I thought you’d walk And you talk like I thought you’d talk Broken glass, lips to ass, the stars up in the sky I'm like that one about a priest who walks in a bar Orders a drink and then finds god, and then finds god All in savage company But cruelty free, well heavens me I never thought I’d see the day I've had it coming I don't know how or why, but somehow it feels oddly relevant. Anyway, on to the matter at hand. Much of my summer has been a mess...more of a smashing into brick walls rather than the comedy of errors it felt like at times. Allow me to use bullet points in order to sort of, kind of, sum it up. This feels like September, actually...ya know, like when you go back to school and the first thing the teacher does after writing his/her name on the board is ask you to write an essay on what you did over the summer vacation? So in honor of autumn, here's my list...  In June, after the most ridiculous fight over nothing, the girlfriend who shall not be named has had enough of my shit and unceremoniously decided to terminate our relationship. Apparently, "nothing" > "lots of little things = one big fall-out" in my dialect. Shortly thereafter, I became overwhelmed with all of the little things I had going on and creeping up on me. I was accused of attempting suicide, which was not the case. Was I depressed? Yes. Did I want to escape? Yes. But there was never an attempt. Nonetheless, hospital stay #1 at the end of June is the start of the journey. After the "Behavioral Health Unit" stay of about a week, it was on to a motel. That lasted a few weeks. Out of work. Bored. Not really as healthy as I thought I was. And I come to find out that I've been accused of "indiscretions" and that "there's proof". And to this day, I still haven't gotten a fair shake or a solid answer about any of this. I know this: I don't know what was seen or how it was interpreted, but once someone makes up their mind about something, whether it's right or not, it becomes awfully hard to change, no matter what the truth is. For the first time ever in my personal history, I got the flu in the summertime. Cold sweats and hot flashes. Puking and general stomach upsettedness (yes, I know that's a made-up word, but you'll have that). Achiness and dizziness. Dehydration. And no matter what I took, I couldn't sleep. Shortly before I started receiving disability benefits, I was temporarily out of funds. I spent two nights in a homeless shelter, where I was basically treated like shit because they didn't want to take the time to sign me in. After two nights of not sleeping and missing breakfast the next morning, they were finally going to sign me in. This is where it gets fun...while waiting for the intake person to sign me in and get me an actual bed instead of sleeping in a community room on a cot, I had a seizure. So much for the City Mission, going downtown and obtaining benefits, and basically getting my life back on track...it was on to hospital stay #2. And this time, for whatever reason, even though it'd been awhile since I'd had any kind of alcohol in my system, they put me in detox for a very unproductive week. And by that I mean there was nothing to do but watch tv. No counselling, no classes, no treatment, nothing. I had an MRI on my head because I cracked it pretty good when I hit the ground after my seizure, and they didn't even give me any results. Out of the hospital and back to the motel. And for the second time ever in my own personal history, I got the flu in the summertime again. Same thing; exact same symptoms. Three days of getting out of bed only to use the bathroom. An unprecedented summer already, and it was barely halfway over. Finally almost healthy, it was time again to leave the motel. My disability payments were coming from a third-party insurance company, and somehow they determined they had overpaid me. I had to call the payroll department at work to see what the deal was. Payroll told me to call the state's department of disability or whatever. So I did...and it turns out they had no record of me even filing a claim for disability, and I'd have to refile...and in doing so, part of whatever I'd be eligible for would first be going to the insurance company to satisfy the overpayment, with the rest being cut to me in the form of a paper check instead of being added to my paycard via direct deposit like my normal pay and disability pay were. Needless to say, when you wake up in the morning expecting a sizeable deposit in your account and it's not there, it's not a good feeling. Especially when you're about to be two nights behind on your room payment and your phone's about to be shut off. Luckily, I managed to get by with a little help for a few days. And then a few days were over. Unsure of my future, with no money and no place to stay, coupled with being out of the medications I was taking for sleep and depression, I damn near had a nervous breakdown. Call it an "Alert Status: Red" type of panic attack. On the side of a busy street, of all places. I did the smart thing. I called one of those crisis hotlines, because this was a crisis of epic proportions. There I am, getting talked down from a proverbial ledge on the side of the road, with what little belongings I still own...and the best they could do for me? Hello, hospital stay #3. And would you believe that after sitting in the ER for about seven hours, and speaking with a total of three nurse-type people for a total of five minutes, they were going to discharge me? Without even having seen anyone that could help me in my mental state? Yeah, that's only the beginning. The first two times I was in the hospital, I couldn't wait to get out...but they wanted to keep me as long as possible, which still wasn't very long but long enough. That third time, however, was at a different hospital...and I really thought I was going to be in for awhile. I was on four different meds the first three days...a new anti-depressant every day plus Ambien for sleep. I was prepared for the long haul. I made peace with thinking I wasn't leaving until I was right, until I was "normal" again. I specifically said that through tears to my assigned counsellor. However, this program was different. Their motto is "We won't keep you here a minute more than we have to." Apparently, these doctors and "professionals" (I use that term loosely...the entire staff was horrible) know my brain and body better than I do. After almost a week there, I told the doctor I felt no better than the first day I was there...and he wanted to hear no part of it. They really wanted to push me out of there before the weekend (presumably to make room for a new crop of crazies on the Behavioral Health Ward). The counsellors would hunt you down to make sure you took part in their group sessions, even if they were irrelevant to your current state of affairs, but when you needed to talk to them about your treatment, they were nowhere to be found. [SIDEBAR: This facility uses a form of treatment known as "Evidence-based" treatment. This means that they have "proof" that it works. Now, mind you, on this floor are all types of mental health patients...the depressed, the elderly/invalids, schizophrenics, drug addicts, and those who generally can't care for themselves otherwise. Are you telling me that all of these patients can be lumped together and treated the same way for such a variety of afflictions? I think not. But don't get me started...that is just one of the many complaints and missteps I could talk about regarding this place.] They gave me a date for discharge, which I was told I could appeal. And I tried, but apparently my appeal wasn't formal enough and/or fell on deaf ears. They asked me what time of day I wanted to leave the day before, so I could arrange after-care and all that fun stuff. I told them 6pm. The nurse said that was ok. The next day, I'm just watching tv. I blew off groups because they were only going to put me out on the street in a few hours anyway, so why bother? The only time the social worker said anything to me was when she accompanied the doctor (who, by the way, only bothered to see me at 7am while I was still asleep), and their joint plan was "Well, if you've got nowhere else to go, you can just go to the City Mission." Yup, this is your tax dollars hard at work folks. That's a friggin' solution alright. On the day of my discharge, around 1:45pm, the social worker pops her head in the tv room and asks me what I'm still doing there. According to her, I was scheduled for a discharge at 1pm. Maybe in her next life she should be a weatherperson...it must be nice to just make this stuff up as she goes along, because no one shared this info with me at all. I had to hurry, pack up, shower, and GTFO basically, and they didn't seem too concerned about where I went so long as I was not under their care anymore. And this was just last week, for those of you keeping score at home. So here's me, wandering around downtown Buffalo. I'm a suburban kid; I couldn't find my way around downtown if you stapled The 33, The 190 and The Skyway to my forehead, legs and ass. And my phone would receive calls, but wouldn't make calls or send texts. After sorting that out and trying to secure some loose ends, I finally got a hold of DMFM, who helped me out the last few days (and a lot of other times also). I spent the last few days back at the motel, trying to secure emergency housing (to no avail), trying to secure some vacation pay from work because I won't be able to use it when I get back and to compensate for getting screwed out of disability (also to no avail- big corporations and their policies be damned...the word "hardship" isn't in their vocabulary because they only care about the bottom line, which is funny for a company that carries an advertising slogan "Be Well" but cares more about spending billions of dollars acquiring overseas companies and creating computer-enhanced commercials where workers are performing highly impossible feats and doing things that would never, ever happen), and trying to figure out how to get medical clearance to return to work (again, to no avail...and I'll be here all night if I get into that debacle, because apparently you're not allowed to get sick and be in a hospital when you're on disability and the company tries to send you time-sensitive materials to an address you don't even have and still expects you to have it in by a certain time regardless). And that third-party insurance company handling my disability claim? They told me that after September 12th my short-term disability would switch to unpaid leave...when I called to inquire about that today through payroll, they told me that was not the case and that I have to apply for it. So basically I've been given the shit end of the stick all the way around from people whose words I'm supposed to take and trust. Unreal. More damn paperwork. And that leads us to today. I left the motel because it's no longer feasible to keep staying there if I haven't had income in a month. I had every intent to go back to the City Mission...where I should've just went on Friday anyway, but they were already full before I had a chance to get down there (thank you, stupid chilly autumn weather). I have no idea how I'm going to get there, since buses stop running out this way soon. Can't get a hold of anyone. I made a nice, long walk from the motel to the library, and halfway back to McDonalds, where I'm totally taking too much advantage of their free Wi-Fi (hey- I also got some food too; don't think I'm just here for the technology! I'm not that cheap...admit that the thought crossed your mind that I'd just be hacking into their signal for nothing). Kinda out of plans if I can't get to the Mission. And it's getting cooler out as the sun has set. This ought to be an interesting night, fo' sho'.So that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I spent my summer "vacation"...hardly a vacation at all. After all of the roadblocks I've run into these past few months, the law of averages suggests something's got to go my way soon. That's how I'm looking at it right now, which is a stark 180-degree turn from where I was in my head two months ago. And as much as I hate to say it (and even moreso do I know no one wants to hear it), there is one simple solution to all of this, but I pretty much have accepted that it'll never happen and have just about made peace with that so the idea doesn't even merit the mention (but it involves she-who-will-not-be-named). One more time, for persepective after reading what you just read, will I offer this: You walk like I thought you’d walk And you talk like I thought you’d talk Broken glass, lips to ass, the stars up in the sky I'm like that one about a priest who walks in a bar Orders a drink and then finds god, and then finds god All in savage company But cruelty free, well heavens me I never thought I’d see the day I've had it coming MUSICAL BREAK!! He's been here a few times the last few years, yet I've missed him for one reason or another every damn time. VITAL STATS: You can follow me on Twitter, @fivesixer for those who are so interested...although lately I've only been tweeting during Bills games. Once in awhile, however, I bust out a fun little nugget or two, plus the occasional retweet. I'm still playing around and getting used to it though. Think of me as the actual "Man On The Street" with the bird's eye view of a bird's eye view. I dunno why I never saw this emoticon earlier!  Haven't had a beer in quite awhile actually, and right about now I could really go for getting hammered. But I won't...not only would that not be good for my meds or my mental state, but that activity is frowned upon thanks to NY's silly "open container" laws.Alright, time to pack up and see what the night has in store for me and what I've got to carry...physically, mentally, emotionally. Be thankful for all you have...look to your left, look to your right, and tell someone you're thankful for where they are in your life if you appreciate them being there. You'll both smile inside for it. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's up y'all? I meant to get in here earlier, while I had reliable internet, but distractions do occur. Like eating, which is something you should do if you've been so sick for the last two weeks that you pretty much couldn't. So rather than Toshiba, this entry hits you again from Blackberry Central. I've done some reading between Facebook and other news sources, and it conjured up a long-forgotten memory. So I bring you...Chair Ninja. The backstory: back in 1997, I was hired as second-in-charge customer service rep at the Lifetime Service Center (LTS). It was the repair facility for the local consumer electronics empire, Stereo Advantage (which I eventually transferred to). There basically was us, evaluators, and techs. And parts, and management. I went from being hired, to running customer service, to also being an evaluator (fixing little things like remotes and cordless phones), to also doing the building's accounting...all at once. Crazy for someone in his late 20's. But I loved it. Why? I loved the people. While most of us had nicknames, most in the building were known by initials. Usually we just went by name, or the latest shenanigan. I remember going to Hooters for lunch with a few of the guys, having a few Coronas, and coming back...when we got to the parking lot, Kooch had to pee so bad, he ran to the dumpster. CRO saw us pull in from a second-story window, and started throwing unrepairable televisions at him. That was just a taste of the fun. Ohhh, the stories I could tell. My superior at the time and I would clash, and I'll admit most were my fault, but we moved on within the company and had a lot of respect for each other. When she went on maternity leave, I inherited her role of running customer service. Easy enough, I thought; I only had some threaten to come at me once with a gun if we couldn't fix their vcr. And ya know what? Even after all of the other responsibilities I took on, it was still a great gig. I say this because my crew was phenomenal. Smart, quick, and motley. We'd bang heads sometimes, and later that evening we'd bang glasses together at Keystone (Keystone deserves its own entry). As good as we were at helping each other out, the faster we were at fucking with them behind the counter's wall. I remember opening the elevator once and seeing someone packing-taped to a two-wheel dolly. Half of me was, "what the fuck?" (Or WTF, for you spoiled English dropouts) and the other half laughed his balls off and sent him back up the elevator, waving. On one of our late nights, it was slow. No management in the building; just me, a few evals and techs, plus the car install guys (their leader JL had the keys). So my boys had the floor, and I went to my computer to do my thing paperwork/money-wise. That's when shit got real. As I'm sitting there, I think three (maybe four) guys came down the stairs, armed with packing tape. Where was I stationed? Right outside the staircase. I knew it was on. I don't remember all the perps, but I knew one was my boy BJS. One might've been DK too. But I know this: I won. As determined as they were, I was twice as much not to be taped to that chair. As they pulled the tape and grabbed the chair, it became an extension of me. Its arms were my arms; its legs were my legs. I flipped and rotated that bastard around with such fierce velocity that after a few moments, the perps backed down. I wasn't gonna be taken. I may have even knocked BJS with a wheel, which prompted him to declare me a "Chair Ninja"...their robust attack was met by not force, but resistance and a spur-of-the-moment counterattack that left them reeling, just like the kung-fu movies we'd watch. And you know we drank beers afterwards and laughed about the whole damn thing. At Keystone...where as soon as the bartender saw my car pull up there were two shots of Crown and either a pint of somethin' or a packed 34oz mug of ice with half Crown/half Coke in it. That's what happened after a long, 12 hour day at LTS. A night at Keystone. The next day..."You goin' to Keystone tonight?"..."Naw man, I'm tired!" Around 4pm, "C'mon, go to Keystone!"..."We'll see when we get out." And when closing time at 6pm or 8pm came (depending on the day), it was, "Come on out just for one!" But there was no "one". There was no such thing as the "Keystone One"; not the way we had them in our pockets. As we drank them out of business before the millenium, I'm pretty sure I've learned how to navigate a bar stool as well as an office chair. But that's another adventure for another time, dear readers. Sorry it's been so long. Blame my grammatical misses on Blackberry. Hope you all are well. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| Good evening, friends. Tonight marks the start of the last week of preseason football in the NFL. Possibly the last shot for some guys on the big stage. Colleges and high schools have been practicing. Fall is clearly on the horizon, and it's very evident the closer we get to the games starting. ESPN and https://www.espn.com have been running great features all week about the physical afftects the game has on past and current players. Today's article, albeit a little long, was pretty emotional, but I'm gonna share it anyway. I'll admit, it got me misty a few times. http://m.espn.go.com/wireless/story?storyId=8307997 It tells the story of a man who played semi-pro ball. On an unregulated field, with sub-par equiptment. He took what was known as a clean hit, a block hard to the chest (the NFL probably would've flagged the hit), and subsequently died. He left behind a lifetime of troubles, as well as five children, on the field that day. All for the love of a game that he basically played for free. His story has made me a little reflective. I played the game a lot when I was young. With different crowds of all shapes and sizes of kids. The only equiptment we used was the ball, and if we were lucky, maybe cleats and gloves. My mom had to buy me special sport goggles...she was sick of replacing the glasses I always broke. I was good enough on the playground to twice try out for the varsity team, but both seasons ended early for me with injuries. I still have the crooked pinky and occasional pain from the second time I broke my shoulder. At that point, I'm the lucky one. I'm sure I had countless concussions, before I even knew the medical definition of what one was. I've had my bell rung, and rung a few in my time. All of us kids probably did; that what happens when teenage boys are flinging themselves at fast paces on grass, snow and ice. Hell, even in the parking lots where we played two-hand touch. Those who follow the game know how much of an issue player safety is these days. The game has transitioned in many ways over the years. Rules have changed, players are bigger, stronger and faster, and there's less of the "get back in there" mindset when a guy got hurt. Not that it's not as tough; it's just regulated better. I've always been a big fan of the game, even if most of my exploits came as a kid playing pick-up games a lot more than in organized leagues. But reading this article and following the game the way I do has given me pause. Semi-pro, like the games we played as kids, are unregulated. People are gonna get hurt. I've seen it many times, and suffered my share of ankle turns, sprained knees and other bumps and bruises. But more pressing to me now are the head injuries. The evidence exists that football has shortened lives. From guys who couldn't function without having a game to prepare for, to guys who simply lost the mental agility to function over time. It's a scary thought...will I be able to function tomorrow, or the next day? What about next year, or the next 20 years? Now, this isn't meant to deter anyone from the game. Nobody gets in the huddle or draws up plays in the dirt and says, "You go long, you cut left and slant, and you blow out your knee", let alone thinks that they might die on the next play. If you play with fear- if you play scared- you're no more or less likely to get hurt than the kid flying around the field recklessly, hitting everyone in sight. But more importantly stated in this article, besides a player's desire and love for the game, is the overall impact it plays on the players, coaches, families, small towns, and lives of these men. As I was in the middle of a paragraph above, the piece on ESPN came on (I read the article online first). These guys are legit crazies, but they love the game. So do I, from the couch. So root for your teams, your players, your fantasy rosters, or your significant other who watches the game while you shop or mow the lawn. Football's back! That said, after all I've seen today, I might watch baseball instead tonight. GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| Had a really interesting morning, friends. Posted something on Facebook about the Buffalo Bills and their quarterback situation. Thought nothing of it. I post a lot of shit on FB I think little of, even if I'm the only one who has any perspective. I will never consider myself an athlete. I had skills, but I stood out more for being a dork than being a player...that goes for baseball, hockey, basketball or football. And football was my true love. So I make this Facebook post... And an old friend, who was probably one of the nicest people to me back when I was 6, and taught me how to lose in the snow of his backyard when I was used to beating up on my bigger little brother in the comfort of my tiny bedroom with a stuffed football, made a comment on that post. I never, even after all my athletic or academic accomplishments, considered myself smart or particularily gifted. And I actually made a name (and friends) for myself in school by wrestling. My looks weren't getting me anywhere anyway. Anyway, I had no expectations of talking about this today but I was feeling the need to throw something out there. So I am. Just dropping some memories now. I remember tackling a kid; short and gangly like me. I caught him by the shoe, flipped him up, and that was it for him. I threw an interception once playing QB. I chased him down, tackled him and broke his ankle in the process. But I loved playing on Alexander Field. The Rosses lived in front of it. Sean and his friend Rich painted it up like a Dolphins field. As a Bills fan, I loved trampling over it; I did some damage there...when the kids would line up at receiver, I'd be the only one to line up at running back. Then in the huddle, I'd call for a swing pass and take it home. I played with those guys for a long time. I was always picked last, but picked first in the next game. I played hurt. I played, because I wanted to, and for the love of the game. The last two times I played were Thanksgiving "get-togethers" where we played. I tore my ankle pretty good, and the next year I was so caught up in my past talent that I lined up in the backfield and got crushed at the goalline, getting the wind knocked out of myself when a much bigger d-lineman stuffed me and I landed on the ball with my ribs. That signaled the end for me, even if I still want to try. Even if I can still throw a decent spiral outside 542. Even if I can block a shot still when I have a conversation with someone I used to date about hockey. And I'm appreciative...but I'm ready for a nap. People actually text and Facebook me outside of here. So the hell with it... GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's up y'all? I'm having a low self esteem kind of day, so I'll keep it brief and stick to my favorite: bullet points! Cheerios aren't just for breakfast anymore. I've been behind this concept for years. They're a great anytime snack. Of course, the minute I open up WDC from Blackberry Central and start typing, I get an email. Lance Armstrong. Give me a second to have a smoke and try to sort him out. Ok, I'm back. Here's the Facebook status I almost posted and accidentally deleted in a melatonin haze last night: Major League Baseball will suspend a player for roughly a third of the season for drug violations. The NFL will suspend a player for 1/4th of the season. The United States Anti-Doping Agency has removed Armstrong as a champion, years after his last Tour de France title, over his alleged doping. Ludicrous! If your job is drug testing, do your job and do it on the spot! If I give shitty customer service at my retail job, I'm subject to discipline immediately. There's no court, there's no consultation, and the boss ultimately is judge, jury and executioner. That said, I feel for the dude. He's a cancer survivor. I still wear that yellow "livestrong" Nike bracelet that was popular back in the day when they were popular, for a dearly close friend who was beating cancer at the same time. Is the guy a dick? Yeah. Do I agree with his choices in life? No, but nor would he agree with mine, I'm sure. Dude made a solid living riding a bike, creating a charity, and turned it into banging a pop star for a little bit. I don't buy into his reasons for accepting this, but hey, passing a piss test is passing a piss test...unless the agency administering it isn't doing their job. And to me, all of this looks like the USADA isn't and hasn't been doing their job. I'll say it again, once more with feeling...if your job is to keep substance abuse out of a particular arena, then do your fucking job, back it up, help the person, suspend them when necessary, and help them within your means. There's too much "black and white" when it comes down to this, but it came down way too late. I pretty much slept all day yesterday. I don't want to sleep now. But don't be surprised if I lay down again for a little while. Still debating if I want to go to a free concert in a town I don't like. The band is The Tea Party, and they're phenomenal. YouTube them. They're reunited and touring again. I've paid twice to see them...do I want to sit in a car for a 40-minute drive to see them for free amongst people who are only there because it's free and there's music? I hate that dilemma. I'd rather pay to see a good band with true fans than see a band for free amidst a bunch of fakes. That's my word. I'm sure I've got a lot more kicking my bruises this morning, but fuck it. I'm bouncing. Maybe I'll nap. Perhaps I'll shave and shower. I'll never, ever use my love as currency again...I've been robbed too many times for that (shit, that should've been its own bullet point, but I'm getting lazy). Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!  |
| Good morning out there in the real world, folks. A significant event occured in my life last night. I dreampt, and I actually remembered it. And since nothing else worth noting is going on currently in my existence, in order to keep my mind nimble, I'll tell ya all about it. But first, a little backstory. For the second night in a row, I've woken up at 4:30am. Two nights ago it wasn't that big a deal...but last night sucked for the simple fact that I remembered to take melatonin before I went to bed, specifically so I could fall asleep and stay asleep. And not only did I wake up at a ridiculous hour, but I can also recall a dream. So here it goes. I stepped out of the room I'm staying in and go out to the parking lot, where the owner, his wife, and their son are tinkering with an old, orange moped. They get this machine purring, and ask me if I'd like to take it for a ride, which I do and fall in love with it. When I come back, they ask me if I want it, so I take it. The cool thing about this bike is that it has a small tablet computer strapped to it. Up pulls my mother (which in itself is weird, since I haven't seen her since 1995), who offers to go with me to get the bike registered at the DMV. She gets in the back seat and I drive, but I end up at Cheektowaga Town Hall (in the town I grew up in). Apparently in my dream that's where the DMV is located as well. Mom gets out to take care of the registration, and I hop into the back seat to play with with the tablet from the moped. Out comes an excited man who wants to ask me about the moped, and I show him the tablet. He's impressed and asks if I'd like a bigger one, and asks me to follow him inside, which I do. Past a court proceeding, past the clerk's office, almost in a circle, stopping in a hallway outside a gym. He climbs a portable basketball net and unplugs a larger tablet. He says it used to be the shot clock when they played on that net. I thank him and start to walk out. As we walk past a room full of chairs, people and racks, he asks me if I'd like a job there, which I accept. I don't know what the description is, but I take the job because it pays more and offers on-site housing. The next part of the dream is a series of days. I wake up, go to the meeting room, put my training binder in a crate outside the door of the room, and mingle with my coworkers. All the while not knowing why I'm there, and being scolded for not being in the right place at the right time. The gossipy old ladies are polite, and the men are indifferent. On the fifth day, I wake up in my room and the phone is ringing. It rings twice, stops, and rings again five minutes later. I'm confused at this point, because I know I'm dreaming it, but I'm barely conscious enough to wonder if it's actually the real phone in the real room I'm really sleeping in. Doesn't matter; I wasn't getting up to answer it anyway. In the dream, the phone had a giant display screen in full color, with caller-id and a display of what's going on in the meeting room. The difference in reality is the phone in my room is an old desktop touchtone phone from 1976. I don't recognize the number calling me, but I realize in the dream I've overslept. I kinda sneak into the meeting room, pretending like I've been there the whole time. We break for lunch, and everybody's looking at the racks of clothes in the room. New shoes, sandals, name-brand clothes. Around the corner are books and other assorted general merchandise items. One of the old ladies points out a hillbilly-lookin' dude and says he donated all of this stuff, and anyone's welcome to it for free. He flashes me a toothy/toothless grin. I help myself to some things, knowing I really don't have much. After work, I pay a visit to my old house and my ex to pick up more of my belongings. But the house isn't the same. The walls have been painted and the rooms somehow have been turned sideways. And it's a friggin' mess...totally unlike the house I remember living in. At first she's flippant, almost dismissive. It's like I'm not really there in front of her while she sifts through the mess. I see boxes of my things she's packed up, stacked off to the side and labeled. But as I'm walking through the mess, I see other things that are mine...some books, cd's, clothes, assorted memories. I keep saying, "I just wanna walk around and make sure I've got everything". She barely objects. But I'm losing it inside, and it eventually leaks outside. I'm trying not to cry. My jaw is trembling uncontrollably, shaking. She asks me what's wrong, and mockingly makes a chewing motion with her face to mimic what I must look like. I break into a full-on bawl, and admit that I can't do this anymore. I reach to her and we embrace. We kiss, slight and loving but not quite passionately. I gather the courage to ask her if she wants to give it another shot...if she wants to try again. And I'll be damned. That's where the dream ends and I wake up. I wonder who's been calling me, only to realize no one's been calling me. I'm in the bed I've been in for a little while, which isn't near some office in the Cheektowaga Town Hall. The sun's up. I'm replaying this dream over and over in my head, hardly believing I'm recollecting it all in such detail. I'm single. I'm pining for the love of my life the last four years and debating the merits of pursuing this beautiful woman I had lunch with the other day. Kind of torn. Neither may be an option; anything is possible. I've done more thinking today before even getting out of bed than most people in this town will do all day. I don't know how I feel about that, actually. Sometimes, I wish I could feel nothing at all. Emotionless. Quiet, sullen, vacated. Empty. But it's not possible. This brain doesn't stop. There's no off switch. There is no distraction, even on a road full of them. Wheels turn, even with wrenches thrown at them and sticking out. I've said enough for one day in a lifetime made of saying too much at the wrong time and sometimes the worst time. So I'm gonna shut this down here, now, and see what the day brings. Luckily there's plenty of time to make something happen, or at least erase the thoughts I've woken up to. The phone could ring, the light could change, the day can be saved. Hope you all have a great day readers; those of you who made it down this far. Peace, love, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's up y'all? Just kickin' it over here on Blackberry Central, mindin' my biz I suppose. Can't bring myself to get out of the room for the day; luckily I don't have any pressing needs. I do, as per comments from my previous post however, wish to clear up a few things. 1) Gord Downie is amazing (and that has nothing to do with anything). 2) In a perfect world, I'd still be living my previous life with justjessica1. But it's not a perfect world. In that perfect world, two adults would be talking about their problems, and I'd still be living in the house where all my stuff still lives. I've reached the point in my life, perhaps a little late, that there are changes that need to be made. But I need someone who I've not only been with for nearly four years, but documented the whole damn-near nine month courting process to understand how I feel, my change plan, and what I propose to be respected in the house. But that's not on the horizon. I don't see it happening. 3) What I said about yesterday, I meant (and that shouldn't be a surprise to any of the people who still follow me...10k views in a year and a half can't be wrong!). And all I'm saying by what I meant is that the woman is beautiful. And interesting. And I don't have much to offer. It is what it is...and I'm not that guy to talk about anything more about anyone that people might know or don't know, or say anything more about our personal places in life. It's one thing for me to talk about me and all the shit I'm dealing with, but I've learned never to lead another person into that. 4) That said, I'd be lying if I didn't say my conscience isn't at a 50/50 battle with myself. Half of me wants to ask one girl out on an actual date, and the other half wants me to reintroduce myself newly into what I've already experienced. I can do either or none. I have no timetable or plan. But as I was once advised by a potential love interest in my youth, "A man knows better than he hopes." So there it is. Not a total retraction. But not the whole story. And I'm not up to writing my whole story yet, although I once offered to (and still would) write DMFM's story. But I've been a Rolling Stone magazine reader for almost my entire adult life. Maybe someday they'll want to do a feature about a guy who's had a crazy life and lived to blog about it. If they want to leave me a voicemail, I'll respond. As for now, I could use a Sahlen's hot dog (look 'em up). Or a nap. And a nap is easier to come by, but as I've been pounding this out on BB Central I've managed to receive a text, so I'm gonna close this out for today. That text could be from anyone. But the nap will solely be for me. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| Happy Sunday from Blackberry Central, friends...maybe I should fire up the laptop again one of these days to see if the wi-fi works on this side of the bunker I'm currently huddling in, but that requires a little effort and for God's sake it's Sunday...nothing should require effort on a Sunday! That said, my room right now has the amazing smell of a half of a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, and if you know anything about me, you'll know that I love well, but nothing quite as much as grilled cheese. I went to a local, legendary chicken wing joint called Duff's, because I specifically love their grilled cheese. Yes, I'm that guy that goes to the wing joint and doesn't just order wings. Now normally, I would have no problem trekking out into the big, bad world all alone for a cuisinary delight, but today was different. I had the good fortune of sharing a meal with a very beautiful woman . She lived in my neighborhood growing up, and our moms were friends when we were in, like, elementary school. We hadn't seen each other in years, but connected through the magic of Facebook and the combination of relationship troubles, so we thought it'd be fun to sit and talk and swap stories of broken-heartedness.I'm not going to lie; I had a great time. And I'm not going to limit or label it as anything but what it was: two people going out for lunch and talking. I'm not going to call it anything more than that. I could go crazy in my head analyzing and overanalyzing everything, but I'm not gonna let myself get there. Will I reach out and see if she'd like to do it again someday? Sure. Will I be more open to pushing things a little further in the future? Perhaps, if there is mutual interest. But not today...not the time or place. I'm not even in a place where I'd consider myself dateable, and she's not in that place as much either. There was no hand-holding or kissing. Just warm wishes and some hugs. I can handle that right now. Now, I can't speak for anyone else or promise anything. I don't even know what the next week has in store for me. But if I can offer you any piece of advice, it'd be this: Gentlemen, if you're single and a gorgeous woman says she'd like to have lunch with you, under no circumstances do you turn her down. Like I said, I have no expectations...but this day and age, anything's possible. Three months ago I thought I was going to be spending the rest of my life with someone, and now that someone can't even return a single text message or have a meaningful conversation like an adult. So you see, things can change. I'm grateful just for the opportunity and the time spent. And if nothing comes of it, so be it. Because I'll never find a shortage of quality grilled cheese sandwiches, but you never know when the pretty ladies are gonna stop showing you a little attention here and there. So that's all I've got for you guys today. Get a grilled cheese and a smile. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's the good word out there, people? I'm gonna take a break from the depression that my life has turned into. While yes, I have yesterday's Buffalo News open in front of me on the obituary page, I've also done some other reading. Back in the early days of this website (before blogs and before it was known as WDC) I posted my youthful poetry as a means to see what it was worth and where it stood in a literary world. It was well-received, and cemented my long-standing relationship with this site. More than a few compared that now-deleted poetry to one Bob Dylan. I had no frame of reference, as I was not into his music other than what had played on the classic rock station I would listen to on my walkman during bus rides my one year of college. {Sidenote: Yes, this entry is about writing.} Years later, I found myself with an iPod and an insatiable desire to fill it with music. I delved into the wonderful world of Bob Dylan, as a result of numerous comparisons. I stocked up on Dylan, old and new. Fast-forward to today. Bob's got a new album coming out on Sept. 11th. He did an exclusive interview with Rolling Stone magazine. Since I'm pounding this out from Blackberry Central, I can't share the link, but I can leave you with a quote: "A songwriter doesn't care about what's truthful. What he cares about is what should've happened, what could've happened. That's its own kind of truth. It's like people who read Shakespeare plays, but they never see a Shakespeare play. I think they just use his name." I'll leave you with that to chew on. I've been doing some writing lately that resembles my teenage poetry, yet informed by my older self. I'm not so proud of it yet that I'd consider posting it on WDC, but hell, I'm writing again. And not just in a blog, but old-school in a notebook. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take a nap and see what the day brings. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's up everybody? I figured I'd check in and say hey, since it's been awhile. May as well, since I'm back in the motel...only this room doesn't have a microwave. So I let the shower get hot, and I'm using that water to heat up my Velveeta shells and cheese cup for a nice lunch. I'm letting the sun do its thing before I apply the processed cheese sauce. Then maybe I'll hit the pavement again just to kill the boredom. It's been eventful the last few weeks. I ran out of funds and finally made it to the homeless shelter. The City Mission. Not a fun place, but it got me closer downtown to where I needed to be as far as obtaining emergency benefits. Three hots and a cot are better than sleeping under the Transit Road railroad bridges, I guess. But damn, what a bunch of assholes at the mission. No, I don't have an identification badge! You didn't give me one! Yes, I'll be going to the Rath Building, and that might take all day! So no, I can't meet with the pastor. Oh, you'll reschedule him for 2pm? I can be back for that...and then I'll get a bed? Great. Cuz these giant fans are keeping me up, and the yahoos on each side of me have fallen asleep with their music on repeat and really loud. So between the last few nights stressing where I might end up while at the motel, and two nights on the cot at the Mission, I basically didn't sleep for five days. Finally I was ready to get my "intake" at the Mission...and I had a seizure. Fantastic. Off to the hospital again I go. Did I mention I missed breakfast that morning? I'm sure that played a part in it. So I went through another detox at ECMC, even though I haven't had a drop of booze in awhile. The humiliation and whatnot. Unbelievable. Like I haven't been through enough lately. What have I learned? Valium is amazing!! I've noticed that while I haven't been very active in Blogville lately, this blog has surpassed not only my previous blog's views, but it's crushed the 10k mark. You people don't even know what that means to me. I'm humbled by the love. I also decided last night to carve a pretty diabolical fu-manchu into my facial hair. Why? Because I can. When there's little else to live for and you have mammoth facial hair, you rock it any way you want. Now if you'll excuse me, I think the sun has warmed my Velveeta cup up enough, so I'm gonna eat that, hit the shower, wander around the community for awhile, miss hard on my past life, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| What's up folks? Not a lot around here. Just figured I'd log in for a quick update on everything involving me since I last ventured into this little text area. Which means I'll be brief. Had a nice lunch at Salsarita's with some co-workers, which just reinforces my theory that the more things change in Retail Hell, the more things stay ridiculous. Speaking of which, they still haven't contacted me regarding my return. I guess that's what they really mean when they say "We'll contact employee relations and we'll be in touch." I'm still single and one level on the food chain above homeless. Prospects for finding a permanent residence have been tough to come by in the areas I'm looking. And while being single has turned into something of a mixed blessing, it's pretty damn annoying when the person basically controlling all of your possessions has just deleted everything about you from her life. Very childish for a soon-to-be 41 year old. If I wanted the hassle of police contact, I would've already led the million man march over to where I used to live just to get my mail and a few other necessities. But fuck that. I'd rather wait and be peaceful. I've learned some things about this ordeal. No matter how much you think you know or trust someone, they're still capable of doing a 180 on you. And for my skateboarding friends, consider yourselves lucky if they don't try to stick some kind of kick-flip at the end of that 180. Also, I've heard some incredible words of wisdom that have come from unlikely sources, which has proved to be invaluable. And on a lighter note, I've lucked out and received some love on WDC. I recently celebrated 12 (is that right, or is it 11?) Years as a member of this great community. You'll have to excuse the capitalization error in the last sentence; my Blackberry won't forgive it. So I'm very thankful for everyone here. Very, very thankful. So that's it for now...I've got some appointments to get to later and some other things to catch up on. Thanks for stoppin' by. |
| What's up everybody? I'm just checkin' in from Blackberry Central because I have no reliable internet right now and I'm pretty much one rung above homeless for the time being. I took a break from participating in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" . I had to. In my time I've made some bad decisions and basically not lived life right. So I'm hitting the reset key to see if that helps. I'm fresh out from another stint at the looney bin, or as they prefer you to call it, the "Behavioral Health Center". And that, my friends, is a good and blessed thing.Stereotypes be damned. I'm not crazy; I just became overwhelmed with a lot of things I have going on that don't merit discussion inside this little text box I have to type in. But it's all good for now. One in four people- look around you now- are walking around with an undiagnosed mental illness. Shocking? Staggering, if I may say so! That's like 25% of the population, if you can believe it. I guess why I'm here today is to say that I'm not ashamed. I have a mental illness. I have issues and I'm being treated for them. I'm man enough to admit that and take the heat, as well as advocate and sympathize. I have "chemical dependancy" issues as well, but let's cut the shit and call it what it really is...I like beer way more than it's appropriate to. There; I said it. The truth is that I'm still highly functional. To the point that the state won't help me as I try to overcome this. And my life's been all about overcoming disadvantages and proving people wrong. Well, that's no way for anyone to live, if you ask me. And I certainly didn't ask for this. In closing, I've been doing some writing lately just to help me stay agile while I find some closure in this messed-up life I lead. Maybe it'll create a path out of the wilderness. I have hope, and hope's all I've got. We'll meet again, friends. Of that I am sure. |
| THE PROMPT: "Tattoos are getting a great deal of publicity lately. Do you have one? If so, describe it and why you chose it. If not, would you consider getting one? Why or why not? What would it represent and where on your body would you be inked?" What's good, everybody? Just the basics over here, I suppose. But enough about me. The War Chest has provided a solid prompt I can kill a few of your minutes with, so please allow me to. I do not have any tattoos...yet. The simple reason being is: when I knew what I wanted, I didn't have the money, and when I had the money, I wasn't totally sold on what I wanted. I first considered getting a tattoo in my early 20's of Speedy Gonzales on my calf, but I worked at a job that wanted you to keep your tatts covered. So that meant no wearing of shorts in the summer. I personally will wear shorts until November, so that had to wait. And why Speedy? Because I used to be one of the fastest guys I knew, and I loved his cartoons as a kid. Along the way, I fell in love with a band. They put out a single once with the iconic logo of a stick figure, and I decided I wanted to get that as some body art. The problem? I couldn't decide where to put it, and then I saw so many other people with it that the idea lost its originality for me. So I had someone replicate it for me years back on WDC, and used it as a header for "I'm Studying You" . It looks a little something like this: At least I found a t-shirt with that on it... 20 years ago when the t-shirt first came out, I never got one. Hot Topic is good for something once in awhile. Our family once went through some rough patches...after we went on a cruise, we decided on getting a family tatt, but nobody could decide on anything. The day I finally came up with an idea (a phrase about family translated into Chinese), that was the day I found out my family was imploding for good. And these days? I have no friggin' clue what I would want or where I would put it. Ya always gotta consider yourself in 20 years' time. I would never get something like "THUG LIFE" tatted on my belly, because I'm not a thug, I barely have a life, my weight fluctuates, and if I ever have kids, how would I explain it to them? I think a few years back I decided I wanted to get the Chinese translation of "balance", but I couldn't decide if I wanted on my spine, running down my arm, or the back of my neck. Why Chinese? Because it looks so much more interesting than just having the word spelled out there. If that's what I wanted to do, for real, I'd just give someone talented some colored Sharpies and have them do it all fancy-like. It'd be a lot less painful. MUSICAL BREAK!! This would be the song I was referring to with the stick figure logo'd cd single. A huge song in the development of my life...if I ever have to make a soundtrack for my life, this would be a single off that cd. (Around the 3:36 mark, there's a dude wearing the same t-shirt as me!) VITAL STATS: Took the day off today for some appointments I had to reschedule because of some bullshit devil vagina magic, among other reasons. So I got me some Tim Horton's, which now sells panini sandwiches (?), which wasn't bad, but hell, if it's the fourth time in a week and a half that you've eaten, I'm sure anything would've tasted good. Even if I really wasn't hungry. It was more of a "get out of jail the house" kind of excursion. The anti-thesis to that last paragraph will go something like this tomorrow: work 2:30pm-10:30pm, and do the ultimate hellish turnaround of 5:45am-1:45pm on Friday. Kill me now and call it progress. All because I needed today off and another manager needed tomorrow night off, neither of us figuring that I'm only supposed to work one night a week (which is usually Tuesday) or that I'd be in so early Friday. Damn, son.And on that note, I'm gonna make like a tree and GTFO of here for awhile so I can pursue some other interests. Hope y'all are having a great go at things...peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Have you ever had to ask a stranger for help? Write about your experience, or write about your feelings or thoughts on this question." Good evening everyone...good question there in the prompt. Good question to flip. See, I'm a guy in that, well besides having the guy parts, I also don't ask for directions, and I'll struggle when doing something before people get tired watching me struggle and offer to help me. So the short answer is no, outside of being at a concert, bar or event, running out of smokes, and having to bum one off a complete stranger. And since I hate that when random weirdos (yes, I judge) try to bum cigarettes off me when I'm sittin' out on my break at work (and yes, this happens maybe once a month), I try to avoid asking strangers to do my bidding. Now, the flipside to this is that it really depends on my mood and what the situation is. If I'm in a good mood and you look respectable and like you'd do the same for me, I'm courteous to strangers. If you look cracked-out and ask me for a cigarette or bus fare (or if you're walking and haven't showered in a week and you ask me for gas money), and I'm mindin' my biz and prefer to be left alone, I'mma tell ya to keep poundin' the pavement. It's that simple. But on the other flip, I've been in situations where strangers have rushed to my aid. Before I tell the story, review this slideshow of Buffalo News pictures... http://galleries.buffalonews.com/photo.php?gname=gallery_1286925932.txt&item=1 Back in 2006 we had the "October Storm". A freakish snowfall overnight that killed power in many areas (some up to a week), took down a lot of trees (the next summer at 542 was not the same...in my tiny backyard there were two trees, one in each corner...they would bloom and provide shelter from the sun, until the storm, when they lost so many branches they've hardly bloomed as much since), dumped a ton of heavy, wet snow on the area, and basically shut the county down for a few days. That Thursday, I was talking to my friend Nicole, listening to the Sabres game on the radio, and laying on the couch trying to fall asleep when the power went out. No big deal...I knew it was windy and the bill was paid, so I just decided to ride it out with some extra blankets. All was good. I actually wound up sleeping in my bed (I have a fetish for sleeping on couches) because it was a waterbed and it retained some of its heat when the power went out. I woke up in the morning, totally unaware of what had happened the night before. I was off work but that Friday (the 13th...go figure) was a payday so I set my alarm to get up early, get my check and run some errands. But I couldn't...there was a ton of snow. It took me an hour just to dig my car out, but good luck driving. The roads weren't even plowed yet. But I was all like, "I'm driving a 2004 Mercury Sable (maybe it was a 2000 or 2002)...it can handle this!" Nope. Made it about six houses down and got stuck in the street, where a neighbor shovelled me out. I proceeded two blocks down the street, turned the corner, and got stuck again. Two strangers, shovelling their properties, came flying over and helped me get back on the road. From there, I made it to work...to find the lot hadn't been plowed at all. There was no way I was gonna try to pull in. So I kept driving and stopped at Tops, a supermarket in a giant plaza. I could only go as far as the beginning of the lot. I parked, and saw I had voice mails. It was one of the other managers, asking me if I could come in for her. When I tried to call her back, I had no service. The wind had killed a lot of cell towers, so the ones still up were being taxed. I finally got a hold of her after a few tries...with spotty reception. And the rest of the story doesn't matter...my power came back on the next afternoon, the store's power came on about a day after that, and maybe a week later, everyone had power. My boss was on vacation in Hawaii for two weeks, and she had been gone the week before the storm. When she came home, her treadmill was floating in the basement! Everything in her basement was ruined. Everything we had in our freezers at work...ruined ($3000 worth of product, gone melted). It was crazy for a few days around here. So to quit rambling, thanks to those dudes that helped me out by digging my car out, when I shouldn't even have been driving anyway. MUSICAL BREAK!! I'm goin' old-school gangsta. VITAL STATS: Not much really. Slow day today, a chill kinda night, and a day off tomorrow. We'll see what the day brings. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Ponder the spectre of yourself as one human being in the over six billion people on Earth. We are so minute as to be nonexistent. And yet, we have the power to visualize, to imagine the entirety of the cosmos. In your journal, write about a popular movie, that most would know, and tell us what you would have changed, and why." What's up everybody? Kinda sorta took the night off last night...was gonna write a formal entry, got started, and went to bed. So I left it as is, and so be it. Then I get on today, saw this prompt on my break at work, and was excited at how deep and philosophical it was...until I got to the end of it and was like...uhhhhhh. I don't know many movies, and of the ones I do, you've either never seen them, or I wouldn't change anything about them.This is gonna take some soul-searching. Which shouldn't take long, given how soulless I can be. I suppose it's wrong to suggest that maybe some chick-flick romantic comedies should end with a horriffic car crash, isn't it? That's about the state of my headspace today, as luck would have it. Most movies wouldn't be movies if common sense prevailed, and the initial conflict were righteously and obviously so solved in the first five minutes (as is the case a lot of times in the real world's way of doing things). As it stands, 99.8% of us probably live lives that wouldn't pan out so great as cinematic adventures anyway. Novels, maybe. But movies lend to too much visual tinkery...good luck finding an actor out there who's so beautifully gifted in the head as I am once in awhile. And by beautifully gifted, I mean at wrecking trains.I guess there's one movie I could change. Tom Hanks in Forrest Gump. I cried at the end of it, actually (I may have been 18 or 19 at the time I saw it in a theater). I suppose the one romantic bone in my body would not want Jenny to die of AIDS (or at all), and that they'd live happily ever after and all that. (Two quick observances of that last paragraph: 1) No, not that bone, and 2) After that movie, who doesn't have a friend named Jenny that they haven't referred to as "Jennay" in a Gump tone?) I guess the majority of movies I've seen wind up going the way I expect them to, which is fine in that I don't need the twists and turns so much to be entertained as much as I need a good story. I don't need some mystery or saga or epic or anything like that. Just tell a good story, even if it hurts a little at the end. MUSICAL BREAK!! I went to a bomb-ass concert yesterday with my boy Winkz and his girl! Ok, the sound at the venue sucked (of course, standing next to a speaker didn't help). At the end everything sounded like Mickey Mouse. But the energy, the passion, the movement...phenomenal. This video is not from that show. I can't find any online yet. But when they played this song, the roof blew off the place. Last night, it started with a simple acoustic intro with the lyrics sung by the guitarist, and then Slug went bombastic with it. Definitely the highlight of the night, and I'm not even mad they didn't play my favorite song. VITAL STATS:  I have very few idols in my life. I can probably count them on one hand. Some are dead, and the living ones I'll probably never be so fortunate to meet. But I got lucky last night. I got to shake Slug's hand. He thanked us for coming, wished us a good good game (? ) and allowed for this sweet photo op. That's me on the left and Sean on the right (never thought I'd say those words). He was really great before the show, meeting with everyone while standing in line waiting to get in. So when your company cuts hours, limits raises, eliminates jobs, and sinks morale, what are they doing? Acquiring stake in an overseas company, of course! This goes beyond them making crazy CGI commercials about things that never happen. Companies that aren't investing in their people aren't investing in their community. Pissed off employees mean a shittier work environment. Which means people see these commercials and acquisitions in a much different light. Corporations snort their self-worth like cocaine, and don't care about the dealers who provide the services they waste. Case in point: we stopped carrying the local newspaper. There's differences between the company and the paper, and the way they handle their business. Hence, we lose every customer that comes in for the paper. I now have to spend my $0.75 someplace else for it. And the people who came in daily for it, and then bought other stuff as well on occasion, are now going someplace else. And why? Besides convenience, another company has chosen to invest overseas rather than improve its infrastructure in our country. The almighty overseas dollar is more important than the people who've sacrificed to earn the right for the company to buy more things the average worker doesn't care about. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the new American Success Story. And it sucks those three capitalized letters from the last three words in the previous sentence.And that's all I have for you tonight, friends. Plenty more drama and bullshit to deal with on my side of the computer screen, but I'mma try and catch up with you guys in a little bit. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Instead, we find empty boxes of the morning-after pill jammed in crevices in side panels. Took it to the pharmacy and asked them to refill it for me. |
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I'm glad you read and enjoyed this, Ann...I know if I were ever presented with the same situation again I wouldn't be as uncomfortable. It's amazing to see how things have changed in five years...I can only imagine how much perception has changed over the last 50. I've always felt that gays were no more or no less than anyone else, and you're absolutely right that they are just like everyone else in 99% of activities. And if that 1% is what creeps people out, well, it's none of their business anyway...and there are better, more tactful ways to respond than with hatred.
