foretastes of spring

This month there have been over 70 tornadoes through the U.S. due to the weird warm weather we've been having. Sure, January's had its cold days (made exponentially worse thanks to furious wind), but we've had our good days, too. Yesterday was in the high 50s, and today's high was around 64 degrees (and I celebrated these foretastes of spring by going to Mount Echo and listening to Florence & The Machine on the IPOD). As much as I'd like to think this nice weather will continue on to spring, without any snow storms in the midst, I know that's just wishful thinking. We've still got February and March, and there's no reason to suspect this abnormal trend to continue.

Mother Nature's a temptress, dangling brighter days before your eyes and then forcing you to see that such foretastes are simply that: foretastes. This winter will get worse before it gets better, and by the end we may have given up on past days that will never be again. But spring does come, despite winter's wretched breath, and we forget about winter as we soak up the sights and sounds and scents of a world coming back to life. Maybe there's a lesson in that?

the 31st week

Welp. Rob headed out this week. 

Here's the re:cap.

Monday. Thankfully today wasn't cold, and there wasn't any ice on the roads. I got home by 4:00 and did some cleaning, hung out with Blake and Andy for a while. Blayne came over, and so did Brandy Rae and John. We lit the hookah and passed around a chemex. Sarah jumped in the fray. After everyone left, Amos, Blake, Ams and I wound down in Blake's room, and then I read some Tolkien and went to bed.

Tuesday. Another cold and windy January day. I came home to an empty house, except for Katie, who had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to come visit Mandy all the way from Columbus, Indiana. We hung out for a good while before Mandy showed up, and then she and Katie went to Rock Bottom and I ran some errands in Northside. I went by Gabe and Emily's place. They have two lesbian cats who are in heat and constantly going at it; weird but hilarious. When I got back I spent much of the evening hanging out with Katie, Mandy, and Ams, and then Katie went home and I gave Amos a ride back to work because he accidentally stole the side door key, and we ended the night hanging out with Rob, and Jake came by at 10:30 with a gigantic pizza, a farewell gift to Roberto.

Wednesday. We were understaffed at work, so that was frustrating, but I made $20 in tips, so I can't complain (too much). Mandy and I listened to "The Who" when I got home from work, and I took a quick nap before going back to work for a mandatory all-staff meeting: staffing changes, pricing changes, new menu items, etc. After the meeting we crossed the street and Bob bought everyone drinks and appetizers. A Going-Away party for Rob. I had a White Russian and devoured some fried clams, and I gave Emily a ride to her car and then Amos and I polished off the buzz with some "Call of Duty." 

Thursday. It was rainy and "warm" most of the day. We were slammed at work and I got out late. [Pen changes to childlike scribbling: I hung out with my amazingly incredible sister who is what I would call "baller shot collar." She's pretty fucking cool in all ways and meanings...] The moving truck came today, and Rob and Mandy loaded up all their things to be shipped to Portland. It was a chill night hanging out with Rob and Amos, and I even got to talk to Mandy K. for a while, but I was sooo tired during it that I don't remember much. But I'm sure it was good.

Friday. Tyler came down around 5:00, and we got dinner from Rally's and spent the evening hanging out with people for Rob and Mandy's "official" going-away party. And it was official because there was a keg of Killian's Irish Red (a rhyme). We also had beer pong going on in the basement and Tony decided to make a fire out back on his way back from peeing in the bushes, and we put whole cardboard boxes in it just to see what would happen (nothing good, that's for sure). The party ran till about 2:30 in the morning, the last partiers trickling out around that point. If I were to make a list of all the people who came by, no one would read it because it'd be so long (like the genealogies in the bible; yeah, everyone skims or just skips those, let's be honest). So here are people I actually enjoyed seeing: Tony and Jessie, Chris Cooper and Laura, and I'm realizing that most people who came were people I see all the time and like very much: Brandy and John, Andy, C. Isaac, and then of course all the housemates and the Guests of Honor and others I'm forgetting because this post is hurried. 

Saturday. I slept in till 10:30, and Tyler and I headed over to Dusmesh for Rob's last "Saturday Indian". It was our biggest crew yet: Rob & Mandy, Rob's mom and brother and sister-in-law, me and Tyler, and Cat ad Alex from work. When Tyler left I took a drive into Mount Adams and back, cruising through Eden Park with the wind-beaten naked trees and curling yellowed grass. I don't take drives much anymore: it's cold, the shocks freeze, and now the RPM is being fishy. I listened to The Black Keys as I drove, sipping an iced double espresso. I took a long nap and spent the rest of the day hanging out with the roomies, hanging out together one last time. We shared lots of laughter and watched a documentary on D.M.T., and then Rob went to bed because he has to be up early. The house will be quieter, that much is for sure (at least until Andy moves in). At least we still have Mandy, if only for a bit. 

Sunday. Rob left around 4:00 this morning to catch a 6:00 flight to Minneapolis before getting on another plane to Portland. I expected to be woken up by either him or Mandy passing my room, so I could say goodbye one last time, but I slept through it all and woke to sunshine coming through the blinds. Heh. Amos and I got breakfast at The Anchor, and we talked shoppe and lamented Rob's absence. "Only eleven months 'till we see him again." - a sobering remark. The day was spent hanging out with Blake, Amos and Andy. Usually Rob would join us for such times, but, well, you know.

There, finished it. It's 5:35 and Brandy Rae should be getting here soon.

I always enjoy her Monday visits. It's a sort of ritual. 

Blake's pacing in the kitchen and Mandy's in class.

Amos is getting home soon, and Ams is a hermit tonight: homework.

Blake just went upstairs without paying homage.

I'm gonna patter after him.

Patter. Like a cat. 

in memoriam (I)

The house is quieter now, and not in the good way like you want. Friday night we had a Going-Away party for Rob and Mandy, Saturday night we had a quiet night hanging out with each other, and then this morning at 6 A.M. Rob jetted off to Portland, and we probably won't be seeing him again until Christmastime (if we're lucky). Not all's (yet) lost: Mandy will be around through Thursday, and then Nick & Sarah are joining her for the long trek to Oregon. I know I'll miss Rob dearly (and in truth, I already do; the stinging realization of his absence is beginning to set in, precisely as expected), but I also know that life is an adventure. No one knows if Portland will work out or not; certainly we all expect it to, but the sobering presence of the Unknown gives adventure its own ragged edge. If the end were known, then there'd be no adventure left; it'd all just be filler. Rob's off on a different adventure right now, and we're all wishing him the best, we really are. We'll miss you, Buddy, more than we yet know; but we're all excited (and a wee bit envious) of you nonetheless. 

Rob, being a fan of folklore and Zeppelin, would appreciate this benediction video. He's "rambling on", so-to-speak, so this video is as fitting for him as it is for me ("Ramble On" is about Frodo's departure from Lorien in "Lord of the Rings", and it's the precise spot where I'm now at in the series). 

(And, as an aside, I chose this video not because it had "Lord of the Rings" in it, but because it's the clearest rendition of the song I could find on Youtube. The LOTR stuff is just an added bonus.)

of the cervidae family

Ams showed me this video a few nights ago, and I enjoyed it so much that I decided to throw it up here. Usually I'm neutral when it comes to deer, but this video makes even deer look pretty bad-ass, especially the one leading the pack. You'll see him with a crown stenciled out above his antlers. These deer are so intense, it may make this Wisconsinite I know think twice before driving a golf-cart straight through a herd.

of the mist

These three are just a handful of the pictures I took around our house this past Sunday (I took at least sixteen more, but they sucked). Mist has always been something that's just made me stop in my tracks and observe; I feel pulled, as if it were, into the mist, and I want the mist to wrap around me like a cloak, and I want to feel its moisture on its cheeks and be lost in a sea of trees masked and mourning in the cold haze. My fascination with mist isn't just because of Stephen King's short story, or because it's part of the title of a Led Zeppelin song, or even because it's an indelible attribute of the infamous mountain range in Middle-Earth. (Yes, I'm still on that.) I've just always loved the eeriness, the mystery, the borderline fantasy of the Mist (and I mean "fantasy" in the classical sense, not in the way you think). 

Since Sunday we've had another day of mist and rain, and each day I'm taken back to Ketchikan, Alaska. The mist on the mountains, the cold drizzle, the rain-forest stretching over the mountain's hides and bald eagles flying over orcas in the bay. You tell me what's wrong with that picture? Nothing. Mist is a staple of Interior Passage living, and maybe that's part of what draws me there; but regardless, the Inside Passage would be one hell of a great place to live.

And, yes, I know the pictures above are staggered. That means, Ams, that they're not in symmetry. That's something I goofed in the HTML, and seeing as I don't have the knowledge--nor the care--to fix the problem, they'll remain staggered. 

the 30th week

The past week flashed by like Superman on Meth, quite opposite the slowness of the week before. The other day I watched a science documentary "narrated" by Stephen Hawking, and in it he talked about the way time itself, as an alternate dimension, exists as a sort of fabric that can be twisted and bent. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I thought about (almost as a sort of tangent) the way the days and weeks and months and years seem to speed up as we exist longer and longer within the fabric of time. Because our existence within time is lengthening, so our perception of it in the present is "shortening". I don't know if that holds any weight as a theory regarding how "time flies by" more-and-more as we get older, but it's sure as hell interesting to think about. Ok, here's my week:


Monday. It was M.L.K. Day, so we were slow at work. I spent half the lunch rush just playing Sodoku, and there was a rag-tag march through downtown with no observers whatsoever. Oh, Cincinnati. Amos closed down early, and when he got home we hung out with Blake. I got Subway for dinner, and then Brandy came over with her ex John.  Before bed I sat on the front porch and smoked cigarettes and listened to US Royalty--or The Black Keys? I can't remember.--and felt great sadness that these days are coming to an end.

Tuesday. It felt like spring this morning--in the fifties, crisp & cool--and so I listened to Florence & The Machine at work, and it took me back to last spring when Jessica C., Carly and I would hang out all the time. The weather turned sour come noon, however, with sheets of rain masking downtown followed by sheering wind, and it actually hurt to walk against the wind a mere four blocks to my car. I spent the entirety of the afternoon "deep cleaning" my room, and for dinner I made a homemade pizza crafted from ingredients nabbed off the salad bar. With leftovers I made brewery nachos and split them with Ams. When Amos got home we shot zombies (something we hadn't done in a long while, at least, like, a week and a half). Amos and I went over to Gabe and Emily's place in Northside for a bit, and we got back around 11:00 and I called it a Night.

Wednesday. An uneventful day at work, made complete with a relaxing evening and dinner at Rock Bottom Brewery. I pounded the ballpark pretzels and polished it off with one of their porters. Spent much of the evening in the East-side with some friends, and when I got home I went immediately to bed.

Thursday. Today was Amos' birthday. His age? I'm not really sure: somewhere between 25 and 27. Work was uneventful and quick, and I got to park at Fountain Square since Rob rode in with me. He sold his white car to Gambill (whose car was totaled 11 days ago by a crazy driver); Rob will have no need for it where they'll be out in Portland. Ams and I had Brother-Sister time when I got home, and she went to school to take an exam, and Mandy visited with her friend Jess, and Brandy was with Amos, and Blake and Rob were working, so I had the house to myself and made nachos, watched TV, and did some writing. I took a hot shower, lit a candle, and read Tolkien before calling it a day.

Friday. After work I hung out with Blake for a while, and then I met up with Mom, Dad and Ams at Red Robin for dinner. I had their Royal Robin, similar to Rock Bottom's 2 A.M. burger. I'd never had an egg on a burger before, and let me tell you what: it's phenomenal. It was great seeing my family, and I'm so blessed to be so close with them. Amos' party was cancelled due to inclement weather, so Blake, Andy, Amos and I spent the night hanging out, with Gabe & Emily stopping by earlier on only to leave once the freezing rain started. More people would've come, but the freezing rain turned the streets to slip-&-slides, and who wants to drive out in that? Thus we cancelled the party and enjoyed the goods among ourselves.

Saturday. Andy spent the night 'cause of the roads, and we went to Indian (without Rob & Mandy, sadly, who were in Indianapolis visiting Jakobi and Onaleasha one last time before the move). After Dusmesh I played "Skyrim," took a long-ass nap 'till 5:00, and then went to Kroger for groceries. Blayne came over to play Carcasson (sp?)( with Blake & Amos. Blake and Blayne went out to see their friend Jeff, and Amos and I played video games and shared cigarettes on the front porch before bed.

Sunday. The temperature rose to fifty degrees, so all that wretched ice is melting. The melting ice left a heavy fog over the city, from sunup to sundown, and the streets were quiet and the air damp all the bleak day long. I slept in till 10:00, did laundry, and ran some errands in Dayton. Lunch was antipasta and olives (appealing to my more reserved Mediterranean side), and Amos and I played video games before the football game. Towards the end of the night, the house filled with wonderful people: Rob and Mandy returned with Mandy's super-awesome grandma in tow; both Andy and Isaac came by; and Jake came by for a little bit. You never know who's gonna come through that door on Sunday nights, but I'm hardly ever disconcerted about that.


POST-SCRIPT. This upcoming week is Rob's last week in Cincinnati. It's going to be awfully sad to see him go, and I'm not looking forward to it. I'll miss his harumphs throughout the house. They make you jump 'till you get used to them. Between Then & Now, however, there's going to be plenty of time to celebrating their "moving forward" departure: we've got a Tazza Mia meeting with an optional(?) send-off hoorah at Rock Bottom, and there's a final house party at the end of the week. 

an ice "storm"

Friday evening I met up with Mom, Dad and Ams at the Red Robin 'bout twenty miles north. This means that I've officially had Red Robin more times in one month than I've had it for the rest of my life's entirety. The journey up there was quite a hot mess, and it goes something like this: because everyone was coming from somewhere else, we all drove separately. When Ams and I are driving separately with the same destination, it's not uncommon for us to race (hopefully being safe about it in the process). I thought I saw her zoom by me, so I sped up and raced her car for several miles, only to discover (once I got off the exit with her behind me) that it wasn't her in the first place, and that I'd missed Exit 19 and gone all the way past to Exit 16 (I was heading south at the time, since we'd initially met farther north at an eye appointment place). So I got off the exit and headed back north to hit Exit 19, but then I missed that one and got off at Exit 21. I turned around yet again with my eyes glued, and got off Exit 19, to find that I had gotten off on the right exit, I'd just thought it was Exit 16 instead of 19. Dyslexic, perhaps? All-in-all, I somehow made it to the restaurant, and I somehow ended up beating both Mom and Ams. 

That's a whole paragraph void of substance, and however long it took you to read that is time you'll never get back.

I decided to get the Royal Robin Burger, which is essentially Rock Bottom's 2 A.M. burger: you've got all the trimmings you like, plus a fried egg on top, and then cooked onion straws added for extra flourishing flavor. I can see why Blake gets it all the time. It started raining on our way home, and then Amos' "party" started at the house. He invited a bunch of people, and Emily and Gabe showed up before we cancelled the party due to inclement weather, what with the rain freezing and all. So we spent the night at the house, playing video games and watching TV and smoking hookah and drinking beers. 

Andy spent the night, and come morning we found everything doused in ice. It certainly wasn't as bad as the ice storm we had several years ago where trees were falling over, but the street was caked in ice and it took us a good solid hour to (a) get into our cars and (b) get the ice off. Andy and I braved the roads (which really weren't that awful, so long as you stuck to the main ones) and met up at Dusmesh India. The process of getting there may have taken three times as long as usual because of the ice, but both of us were quite glad we made the trip. Now to wait for this ice to melt. Apparently it's supposed to be fifty degrees tomorrow!

a quiet winter night

"Damn it, Squirrel! No! Get back in your hole, we're past this!"

It's 10:00 P.M. and I'm well on my way to crawling into bed. The wind-down set goes something like this [what I wish were] most nights: first I take one of those fifteen-minute-long, do-nothing-but-stand-there showers with the water scalding hot so much that it bathes the entire bathroom in a sauna-like steam. "You can see steam coming out from underneath the door," Ams mused once upon a time. The water steams the moment it comes out of the shower-head, and it's that kind of hot that makes every cut and gash and slice on your body burn like someone's flushing 'em out with battery acid, the kind of pain that feels good, the kind of pain that tells you you're rough and weathered, you're a MAN. Okay, maybe it doesn't go that far (but maybe it does...), but end-result is that I'm refreshed and relaxed once I slip into my PJs (first choice: silky Spongebob Squarepants pants; second choice: plaid cotton matching shirt and pants). Washed and clothed, I light one of those scented candles that floods the room, and I crawl into bed and journal for a while, and then I'll read some J.R.R. Tolkien while "rockin' out" to Led Zeppelin. Thus this moment--me stuck in limbo between shower-&-PJs and crawling into bed--comes wedged between the Past and the Future, and like all great nostalgic saps these things are constantly on my mind, and even more-so with the Breaking News developments that are changing the landscape all around me.

"Yes, I know you're there. No, you're not being sneaky.
You had your week, remember?
Not everything has to be about you."

As you may have seen yesterday had you read my "weekly re:cap" (which is soon coming to an end, I'm afraid), Rob and Mandy are on the doorstep of a move from Cincinnati, Ohio to Portland, Oregon. All this came suddenly and like a whirlwind, taking us straight through nap-time. Rob's got a new roasting job that's a step up from where he's at now, and he's grabbing this opportunity and making it happen. Really, we're all excited for him. We're also quite sad for him and Mandy to be leaving us. None of it's truly set in for me, this I know for certain. And as I mused yesterday, it probably won't set in for me until I stop seeing him at work and stop seeing Mandy when I come home from work every day. It's gonna get lonelier around here, despite the fact that most of my other best friends will still be here. I'm betting my acknowledgement of all this will take place in two steps: (1) Excitement for them and this opportunity, and then (2) Incredible sadness over their absence. Right now I'm mostly incredibly pumped for (and envious of) them and this new adventure and change in their lives. But once they're gone, the selfish side of me will feel their absence stronger than their presence (hmmm, heard something like that before...), and that's when the real sadness will begin. But change is a part of life, no matter which way you look at it, and I'm coming not only to accept it but to be thankful for it, despite how taxing it can be at times: without change, there's only stagnation, and that gets boring and we get boring because of it. 

I'm sure I'll have much more to say on their leaving as it draws near and then fades into the past, but suffice it to say for the moment that while it hasn't fully set in, I'm exhilarated by what they're doing and feeling the first dew-drops of sadness tickling the back of my koala throat. 

the 29th week

Monday. I tossed and turned all night, insomnia kicking me in the ass. It was one of those nights you feel you haven't slept a wink, but come dawn you realize you've slept far more than you thought. Nevertheless I did need an exorbitant amount of coffee to keep going. I spent the afternoon drinking Mexican Chiapis and writing. Brandy came over around 4:30, the usual Monday occurrence, and we crowded Blake's room and watched a documentary on Pearl Jam. Nick was here, and he made an amazing dessert, some sort of pineapple cake paired with vanilla bean ice cream (the best flavors always rhyme). I ended the night playing Smash with Rob, Amos & Blake. 

Tuesday. A long day of work, as expected: super busy, understaffed, everyone exhausted and working late. But that's par for the course at this point. Training woke me up: we did coffee tastings of our new coffees (we switched distributors, and now all our coffees--except for the Brazil Sierra Negra--are Fair Trade- or Organic-certified). Back home I did a spot of writing and had a Greek salad for dinner. It was a quiet and unexciting evening spent drinking wine and reading Tolkien. I really do like these quiet nights.

Wednesday. It was cold and wet all day, with "snow terrors" regarding tomorrow. Surprisingly we weren't slammed at work. I spent the afternoon lounging around, and I grabbed Subway for dinner and watched "Psych." I bruised my knee on the stairs something awful, 'cause I fell, and in the process I think I pulled a muscle 'round my groin. "You're all fucked up." No worries: I called it a night after some wine and finishing Book One of "Lord of the Rings" (there's actually six books, not just three, despite it being a trilogy; weird, I know). 

Thursday. Another crazy day at work, and yet somehow I got out on time. Snow started falling when I left at 3:00, and not twenty minutes later, everything was coated in white. Mandy, Ams and I sat in the living room with the snow falling, and Mandy confirmed my quiet suspicions: she and Rob are leaving. Rob got an amazing job offer in Portland, Oregon, and he's taking it. He's already taken it, actually, and will be (per my understanding of it) flying out on the 28th and Mandy will be following suit within the first few days of February. Tonight they told their housemates and close friends, and we all just sorta took it in (and, to be fair, now a week later, it all still feels surreal), and tomorrow they planned on telling all the work place peeps tomorrow. 

Friday. The news broke, and it was taken really well by everyone. Bob's excited for Rob as a friend, and he's supporting Rob's decision while getting everything ready for his departure. I got home early, and Blake and I hung out in his room, and then Alex S. and Cat came by, and we gathered in the living room and drank beers (Rogue) and smoked hookah. Now that the word's out, everyone at 600 is pumped for Rob and confident that things at The Tazz will continue smoothly. That's definitely good to hear, not just for all of us who work there, but especially for Rob, who's poured so much of himself into this place and wants more than anything to see Tazza Mia flourish.

Saturday. Since Rob decided to go visit his parents in Dayton instead of eating Dusmesh, I decided to skip Dusmesh as well and go to my parents' place in Dayton. Mom and Dad ran off to Detroit for the weekend, so I was handed the responsibility of watching Sky. I can't complain, for two reasons: (1) I love her, and it's always great to have her around [even with her stick fetish, though it can get to be "too much" at times], and (2) she's my dog, not theirs, and they're adopting responsibility for as long as I live in a place that doesn't allow dogs. Anyways, because I missed Dusmesh in Cincy I got it at Namaste India, right next to good ol' Spring Valley Starbucks. My order: chicken tikka masala, samosas, and naam bread to the max. Sooo good, and great portions too (I had enough left for dinner, which never happens, cause this boy likes to eat). Tyler came over, and we went to Barnes & Noble like we used to do all the time, and we got drinks from the off-brand Starbucks in the corner of the store, and back home we watched documentaries on Netflix, and he ordered a pizza and we listened to music, wholly zoned-out and at peace.

Sunday. Sky woke me up 'round 8 A.M. I ran some errands and got a drink from the Centerville Starbucks, and I spent my morning listening to music, cuddling with Sky, and writing. Lunch was cornbread and steak chili from D.L.M. while watching science documentaries written by Stephen Hawking. Great stuff. I cleaned up the place and was out the door by dusk, and after hanging out with Blake, Amos and Andy, I spontaneously abandoned the house and the East Side ran red with the fruits of my vicious slaughter. [End Scene]

sun hands

a new post (for blakey)

Ok, look, I'm sorry. I know I haven't posted anything for a while. These past few weeks (hell, all of January), I've been wrestling with demons and trying to figure stuff out, and now Rob and Mandy are moving to Portland, and, well, there's a lot happening and sometimes updating this blog feels like a burden, just another chore. There's a lot to take in, a lot to digest, a lot to think about. We koalas have simple minds; we can only focus on one thing at a time, but there's so much going on that my brain tends to either (a) enter shut-down mode or (b) go into a cerebral meltdown. All this to say, I'm both (a) sorry to hear at your disappointment since I hadn't updated my blog since last Wednesday, and (b) cherished to call you a reader (even if you're kind of a douche-bag). Here's a picture for you (because oversized pictures always make a post feel complete):

Zeppelin & Tolkien

Here are two things I've been obsessed with (yet again):

1. "The Lord of the Rings" by J.R.R. Tolkien, &

2. Led Zeppelin

And, really, the two go hand-in-hand. Turns out that half of Led Zeppelin--singer Robert Plant and guitarist Jimmy Page--were super into J.R.R. Tolkien. It's not surprising that Page enjoyed Tolkien, what with his head-over-heels fascination with mythology and magic. And Robert Plant even named his dog Strider (Aragorn's "common name"). Many of their songs are influenced--or downright littered--by "Lord of the Rings" mythology and lore. Most famous of all is "Ramble On," mentioning Gollum and Mordor; the lyrics seem to retell Frodo's leaving of the heavenly Lothlorien to continue his perilous journey east to the Land of Mordor. Another one is "The Battle of Evermore," which mentions the Nazgul Ring-wraiths; the song's all about the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. There are other songs that, while not inspired by "Lord of the Rings," nonetheless have bits-&-pieces of the lore and language thrown in. "Stairway to Heaven" and "Misty Mountain Hop" are two of these: the first quotes a poem about Aragorn ("Not all that glitters is gold") and the title of the second echoes the infamous Misty Mountains in West Middle-Earth. The band denied that these songs were inspired by "Lord of the Rings," but any idea that the tidbits were forged in a vacuum away from Tolkien is just ludicrous. "Over the Hills and Far Away" may or may not be inspired by the tale, and some have speculated that it's Samwise Gamgee's reflections of his adventures at little Frodo Baggins' side. 

All the songs listed above are pretty awesome, but "The Battle for Evermore" is my favorite. And that's why I'm going to add a video of it (because adding videos to blogs makes you both hip and cool). Let's just pretend I'm doing all this on an IPAD and I'm about as awesome as you can get.





Basically, the point of all this is that by virtue of A being cool, B is cool.

So if you like "Lord of the Rings," you're cool, because Plant and Page liked it, too.

And if you like Led Zeppelin, then you're cool, because they liked "Lord of the Rings."

And if you happen to like both (like me), then you're quintessentially a bad-ass. 

journal entry - 1.9.12

I've got my head in the clouds half the time, spinning fantasies and hypothetical ventures rather than facing reality as it is. I play the part of the ostrich and get lost in these foolish fantasies, and I invest time and energy into the delusions. Like a desert wanderer parched for thirst and straying off-course towards a shimmering mirage that never draws nearer, so I invest myself into the fantasies at the expense of real life around me. Lying at the heart of this, I think, is the knowledge of my restlessness and emptiness, and for some reason I believe that if I could uproot and do things differently, that would bring about some sort of rescue and renewal.

The truth is that I feel stretched thin. It's not restoration I seek--for being restored to a previous state would be no better than the current--but rejuvenation. I want the discontent and lifelessness to be swept away. I want passion and vigor and hope to be mine yet again. And more than that, I want to be lifted from this present state and thrust into a newer and better one. Really, I want movement. I want to "keep on keepin' on", and getting lost in fairy-tales of my own wine-drunk concoction isn't moving forward. It's stagnation. This fantasy of mine, it's like the crack addict's drug, something embraced to "close out" the dark nature of things. Buying into this fantasy, pursuing this fantasy, investing in this fantasy, is no different than the crack-addict's drive to escape reality. Doing this for a long while draws tears and stitches across the heart, and if there's no intervention, I could become just as self-pitying and useless as the addict ten steps (or should we say 12?) from an O.D. 

This fantasy--something sketched out in countless journal entries, something immaculately imagined and spun like Shelob's web--is a symbol of what I want more than anything: rebirth. But if rebirth is what I'm seeking, then I must find it and pursue it where I'm at rather than getting lost in another world wholly of my own naive making. My life is here, not bundled up in fantastical delusions, and if I want change, I've got to act rather than letting life sweep me by as I parade around in my own head. 

2012: the first week

Our house. In winter. Note the naked trees.

Monday. With the day off work (federal holiday and all, or so I'm told), I spent the morning hanging out with Blake and Amos, and then Ams and I went to Rock Bottom for lunch. She got nachos and I got a pizza, and we split them down the middle. It snowed most of the day, fiercely cold, and we stayed indoors. Andy came over, and then I ran some errands. The roads were a hot mess and not one but two traffic detours because of accidents hindered my progress. It was a quiet evening spent shooting zombies with Amos and hanging out upstairs in Blake's room, talking the night away and listening to "The National."

Tuesday. The Tazza Mia craziness has started up again, and I burnt my neck something awful (a door slammed a hot plate into my neck). "It looks like you got a hickie from a succubus." For training we re:hashed the pour-overs, and then Amos and I devoured Chipotle with Blake and Brandy up in Blake's room. I went out to the east-side and met up with a friend, and we watched "Garden State" (such a good movie!), and it was late and I debated whether or not to spend the night and decided against it. I didn't get back in 'till about 2 A.M.

Wednesday. Another hellish day of work, got out an hour late. Mandy and I hung out for a while, and we helped Jamie Smith (the N.T. professor from C.C.U., also our neighbor) clean some chairs out from his garage. Sarah came and picked them up to put them in her house. I did some grocery shopping at our local ghetto Kroger (that place is a hot mess) and had cereal and pumpkin pie for dinner. Best part of the night was crawling into bed by 10:00; only sleeping a handful of hours last night wore on me all day.

Thursday. No doubt the most uneventful day of the week. I literally only wrote a few sentences in my journal, and here they are: "I spent the day after work doing not much of anything besides reading Tolkien and drinking wine, and I was passed out an hour before midnight." Yep, that's how I roll.

Friday. Work was a decent hop, and later in the evening Blake and I met up with Amos and Andy at Rock Bottom. We drank beer and demolished some Grade-A food, and when we got back around 9:00 I crawled into bed, read for a while, and then passed out.

Saturday. I gave Amos a ride to Refuge to play nerd games, and then I went to The Anchor to do some writing while drinking coffee. Andy, Rob and I got Dusmesh, and Les--the demi-god of Cincinnati--joined us, so we talked "coffee culture" and discussed the up-and-coming 1215 Wine Bar. I spent the afternoon listening to Led Zeppelin and playing "Skyrim" for a solid 4 hours. Oh, the things winter does to me. I ousted the Stormcloaks from the land and killed three dragons in the process. I picked up some chianti from Kroger and poured myself a glass, and I called Mandy K. on her long drive back to Wisconsin, and we talked for a solid two hours. It was a good time, as always. 

Sunday. Mandy woke me in the middle of the night to show me the tiny moon encircled by a throbbing halo of light. I dreamt that Amos and I beheld the northern lights--aura borealis, for the Latin-inclined--and then zombies burst into our hotel. It was one of the most graphic zombie dreams I've had, including the apparent apathy of my sister and much blood on my hands. I woke drenched in sweat. Not a regular night. When daylight came, Rob, Mandy and I went to U.C.C. "Come Thou Fount" always stirs my heart. I ran and got Chipotle for lunch, and Rob, Mandy, and Rob's brother Kevin were already there. I spent the afternoon writing--a good twenty pages on my 1 Peter thingamajig (which is an actual word, strangely enough). The shadows drew long and torrents of people came in and out of the house: B-Shields, C. Isaac, Andy, Sarah, to name a few. The Smiths threw out a TV and Rob snatched it up for our living room. Mandy, Ams, Sarah, Andy and I went down to Florence to get Red Robin for dinner. While we were there, the cook had a seizure and the place got pretty hectic for a while. When we got back we found police cars up and down the street, and someone had smashed into some cars and tried to speed away. Sarah's husband's truck was banged up pretty bad, and Gambill's car likewise (from what I hear; hard to see in the dark). With dark fully settled I smoked pipe with Amos and Andy on the front porch, and Rob and I drank some wine and I was in bed around 10:00, reading some more Tolkien before calling it a night.

winter is coming

The last few weeks have been downright nasty when it comes to the cold. We've had snow in the hills and sleet downtown, and by the time I walk four blocks each morning to work my fingers feel like icicles and my breath's sticking to my chin. I'm trying not to complain, really; and I'm trying to savor the fifty-degree weather we've had for the last few days, probably the last of its kind before the winter onslaught truly begins. November through mid-January is always up in the air when it comes to how "wintry" things will be, but February's the worst, and March has (at least historically speaking) been just as awful. Already I'm looking forward to spring, begging it to come to our doorstep. 

My life becomes very simple when winter comes around (as if it's not simple any other time of the year). My days are generally spent (post-work, of course) crowded inside where it's warm, dressed in my pajamas and reading books and drinking wine and going to bed early. Really, I don't mind it too much, but after a while it does get old. I'm already starting to long for the days when I could run errands without being in biting pain; I'm missing those summer days when we'd crowd the front porch, when people would be over all the time, when we'd have impromptu parties and share so much laughter we didn't know what to do with ourselves. Those days are, for the moment, gone, and people are cloistering themselves in their homes. Even the streets of Price Hill are quiet (except State Avenue; that place is always hopping, and not in the way you want). No one wants to be outdoors; everyone's bundling up inside; we're all just waiting for it to end. Basically, the gist of this post: winter sucks. The End.

skyrim

I don't care who you are, this game is pretty freaking phenomenal. I enjoy it just as much watching it as I do playing it. The gist of the game is that you choose a character, go on quests, and basically fuck shit up and make it rain. It's kinda like my life, except not at all, really. I'm not sure where I was going with that. Bottom line: the game kicks it high and drops it low, and it makes me want to listen to Led Zeppelin's "Battle of the Evermore" while reading J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" (which I've actually been doing: I read for a good half hour yesterday, split up into three ten-minute segments determined by the number of trips I took to the bathroom, seeing as I had Chipotle the day before). The reason corn comes out whole in your poop is because it's a type of fiber that absorbs waste while being too tough for digestive juices. Chew on that one for a hot minute.

Amos won't be home for another hour, so I've got some time to kill a few Storm-cloaks. And I'm getting the vibe that this is one of those blog posts that just needs to be pinched-off (no pun intended), so I think I'll go do my thing: fuck shit up and make it rain. A rhyme, so... 

the end of a journal

It's a new year, and I'm tired of hearing about New Year's resolutions, the start of a new day, pickled lambs, and everything in between. The earth revolves around the sun--thanks, Nic C.--and a new year begins, but there's really nothing too "new" about it. The only thing that changes is that half of us are hungover come the next morning when we're looking for excuses to get out of church. The New Year marks an end and a beginning, and maybe that's what draws us to it: we like endings, and we like beginnings. But we don't like being in the middle. We don't like the actual trek from Point A to Point B. The New Year tells us that all the bad shit of 2011 is coming to an end, and all the good stuff of 2012 is beginning. Really, that's just something we like to tell ourselves. The muddled chaos in our lives doesn't disappear, there's no blank slate being born. The chaos just keeps going, evolving, in undulating rhythms like the tides (though not based, as it were, on the lunar calender). 

Some people measure their lives by the dawning of a new day, but I tend to categorize my life not according to years but according to journals. It's weird, it really is. Finished journals come to stand for far more than they really are (just scribbled words from a cluttered mind); they begin to stand for different periods of my life. It's here that my nostalgia gets spoiled like a Price Hill prostitute at the nail salon down the street. Another journal's come to a close--August 1 to December 31 [2011]--and, well, it's been a damned good off-the-hook, and in the best throw-up-in-your-mouth-and-swallow-it-down-just-to-throw-it-up-again-cause-you-like-the-taste kinda way: more twists and turns than Lady Gaga's sexuality coupled with unforeseen character development, plateauing plot-twists, and a fair amount of cliffhangers promising no resolution*. You name it, this journal's got it. I even made a trip to Wisconsin, which was exciting, and long trips like that don't happen too often in this mundane life of mine.  Now the new journal's there with its blank pages before me (damn, now I've got Natasha Bedingfield stuck in my head), and though I don't know what's coming, I'm hoping that the old experiences of 2011 will give birth to new adventures in 2012. 

Post-Script. I really need to get my shit together on this blog. All these nostalgic posts are making me sick. 

Post-(Post)Script. I'm not actually as nostalgic as my blog might lead you to believe. Nostalgic, yes, but not like this. Not like this.

Post-(Post)(Post)Script. I know one day I'll look back on this post... Abort.

None of that was staged.


* I just want to point out how clever that sentence really is. People usually don't notice these things, so here you go. The mentioning of Lady Gaga's "topsy-turvy" sexuality isn't abandoned in what's to come but echoed through it all. Unforeseen character developments, plot-twists grinding to a stalemate, and the absence of any guarantee that things will pan out in a satisfying away are all essentially echoing her career (which I just introduced myself to on Wikipedia). Yes, all these things are directly related to what's actually in the journal (so, yeah, no Lady Gaga there; we're past that); but they work on more than on level. It's like a double entendre on steroids (or cocaine). And the whole throw-up-in-your-mouth kinda thing, that's what it's like to go to one of her concerts. Think Price Hill Kroger meets middle-class, socially-estranged pop-addicts craving a Grey Area. There's a reason she calls her hardcore fans "Little Monsters." And it's sad that I know that. 

2011: the last week

It's around 6:00 and I'm in my pajamas with incense burning and it's snowing outside. The wind's howling against the house and I've got a thin-crust chicken pizza cooking in the oven. It's looking like it's going to be a decent night. Barton Hollow's playing on my new IPOD dock (which I take to work during the week to rock out while cutting cucumbers), and I've got a few spare moments to recount the last *hectic* week of 2011.

Monday. With the day off work following the holiday craziness, I slept in till 9:30 (which is a pretty big deal for this early-morning riser). I spent most of the day unwinding from all the hustlin' and bustlin' of the weekend. This koala's social energies had been wholly drained. Rob and Mandy have Mandy's siblings Jakobi and Onaleasha in town for the week, and Jakobi sported off all his new cars. He got a plethora of remote control cars for Christmas, and one's just like the Bat-mobile with 360 degree turning front wheels. Andy swung by on a whim, and we listened to Led Zeppelin and marveled at the genius of it all. I treated myself to some gyros for lunch from Sebastian's, and I went to The Anchor to do a spot of writing. When I came home, Wing was closed down with police cars flashing in the street and policemen running between the houses. I wanted to investigate, but the police frown upon such things. 

Tuesday. I went into work early of my own accord, giving myself an extra hour to unload a big-ass order and fluff up a skeletal salad bar. Mandy brought the kids in for lunch, and she told me that Jakobi woke her up in a panic, thinking it was the middle of the night, terrified because I was missing. She informed him that it 8:00 in the morning despite the dark and that I wasn't missing but at work. I ran some errands after my shift, did some writing at 600, and then Amos and I returned home to shoot some zombies. It snowed this evening in the hills, sleeted in the downtown valley. Cold, windy, miserable. Mandy, Ams, Onaleasha and I ran off to Target, and I made some chamomile tea and watched Portlandia with Rob. 

Wednesday. Another slow day. Sales are down with the holidays, so shifts are getting cut and we're shutting down the store at 3:00 each day. I thought some dude was checking me out through the window only to discover, much to my delight, that "he" was really an "it": a mannequin. Ha. At 6:00 we had the Rock Bottom (post-) Christmas party (see two posts below). It kicked off at Rock Bottom and spread back to the Claypole House, and it was a great night, hands-down. The best work party I've ever been a part of. 

Thursday. I won't lie: I woke up feeling a bit queasy, but a cigarette took the edge off. I lost my phone somewhere downtown where it was *most likely* snatched-up by some wary passerby. No big deal: I just grabbed my old LG Chocolate and activated it to my number. Disaster strikes? No: disaster avoided. I spent the evening hanging out with Mandy and the kids. We watched "Tangled" and I had breakfast for dinner. Mandy and I ran some errands in Clifton, and when I got home I passed out almost immediately.

Friday. We didn't have the salad bar today, so I didn't have to go in till 10:00. We closed early and were home by 3:30. Back home Amos played "Skyrim" and I watched: it's just as fun to watch as to play. It's like a movie, it really is. Enchanting. I talked to Mandy K. for a while, and that was good, as always. It was a very low-key evening, nothing really happening. The most exciting thing was the four of us--me, Ams, Amos and Blake--crowded in Blake's room coloring in coloring books and journaling. Not the most exciting, but I'll be content with it.

New Year's Eve. I gave Amos a ride to Refuge to play nerd games. Mandy, Ams and I hung out for a while upstairs (Mandy got a new flowery bedspread), and then Mandy, Rob and I went to Dusmesh for Saturday Indian. Oh!, how I'd missed that food. Tyler came over and we spent the evening hanging out with Mandy. Zach and Heather, two of Rob and Mandy's friends who live in L.A., came by, and after a flurry of naps all of us headed out to Kassie's going-away/new year's party in Clifton. Fire-dancers, jungle juice, great bands. It was pretty cool; but being the INFP koala that I am, I was quickly filled with the desire for a much quieter and intimate New Year's Eve. I took myself up on the offer and left the party early, and Blake, Tyler and I watched the ball drop for 15 seconds and then rocked out the beginning of 2011 with Band of Horses playing on the scratch-disk. 

New Year's Day. Tyler and I decided to get The Anchor for breakfast, and when we got there, we were surprised to find Amos, Isaac, and Andy already squared away at a table, and we joined them. We drank coffee and smoked cigarettes in the atmospheric warmth of the place, and I feasted on a goetta omelette with a side of home fries lathered in cheese and onions. My God, children. Tyler headed home, and I spent the afternoon writing and watching Isaac play "Skyrim". The latter part of my night was spent hanging out on the east-side. A whole bottle of wine, a good movie, great laughter and good conversation. I fell asleep there and then woke at 6:30 and headed home, and the snows came down like a blizzard. When I got back into the house Rob peeked up from the sofa (where he was sleeping since Zach & Heather were in town) and said, "Your new nickname's Party-Beast." Ha. Hardly.

new year's resolution

My original (and highly hypothetical) New Year's Resolution was to lose all my holiday weight by the end of January. An easy-enough task, not demanding much effort, and beneficial, as well. Unfortunately I didn't actually gain any weight over the holidays (I'm not sure how, since I've always gained 10-15 pounds every year), so I've had to come up with something else. Sitting at The Anchor this morning with Isaac, Amos, Andy and Tyler, I decided that the best New Year's Resolution is to get better at what you're already the best at, so this year I'm aiming for this: to be classier this year than I was the last. I've already obtained the title of President in The Classic Club, and I've got to keep riding this gravy-train as long as I can. 

If none of this makes sense, maybe a picture? My goal is to be this guy each and every day.

If you have to ask, you won't understand the answer.