the 57th week

Monday. Sarah and I opened, and I got off a bit early and ran up to the Atrium Medical Center in Middletown to get some lung function tests (per mother's request). I'm no fan of hospitals (big surprise), though I did almost fall asleep in their overstuffed chairs in the waiting room. The test took about an hour, and then I headed a few miles farther north to visit Mom, Aunt Teri & Grandma at the house, and then I hiked over to Tyler's and we spent the evening watching Breaking Bad, eating Wendy's for dinner, playing MW3, and hanging out with his neighbors in the apartment below. It was quite a good evening.

Tuesday. I opened with Sarah yet again, and then Mom, Grandma, Aunt Teri & Ams came into T.M. to grab lunch with me, and then we all headed up to Dayton for Mom's belated Christmas gift: a hot air balloon ride! It was fantastic: it's so still and quiet up there, and we saw deer and spooked a herd of cattle and dogs were chasing us far below. It's crazy how much greenspace there is, everything looks so developed from the roads. It gives you an idea of the vast expanse of undeveloped American land. We had a champagne toast after the flight (it's a French custom; the French invented hot air balloons), and we got late-night Marion's Pizza before Ams & I headed back to Cincinnati.

Wednesday. I didn't go in till 10:00, so I got to sleep in and hit up The Anchor before closing with Amos. I took Amos home, the Loth House, and I scouted his new room: it's either an abandoned wine cellar or storm bunker, and it's pretty rustic and cool. We played some video games and hung out with John & Brandy, who live there, too, and I headed home and had a healthy dinner and watched 30 Rock.

Thursday. I went to The Anchor for coffee and to read The Last Full Measure. I should have it done by the end of the weekend. Amos & I closed, and then we ran by the Kroghetto and went back to his place to grill out on John's new monster-truck grill: steaks, shells & cheese, portabello mushrooms, and green & pole beans. Brandy milled about while we cooked and scavenged the remnants. "You two cooking together is always something to watch!" We watched "Deadly Women" on Netflix and Andy joined us for some C.O.D. in the Cellar (not the Dungeon, that's a Claypole designation, the titles are different). Some decent storms came through, there were five tornadoes across the border in Indiana, and back home I rounded out the night sitting on the front porch reading The Last Full Measure with the rain falling all around.


Friday. I went to The Anchor before my 10-close with Amos. It was a pretty hectic day, and another storm chased its way downtown. I happened to be on Fountain Square when it happened, the merchants' tents being torn from their struts, the trees all bowed over, the patrons at Mint Martini scrambling to get inside as the patio umbrellas turned up in the driving rain. I took Amos home after work and stayed there for a while, playing MW3 and hanging with him, John, Brandy, & Erin. "This is basically an extension of The Claypole House," Brandy said. "Now there's just two houses instead of one!" 


Saturday. I did coffee at The Anchor and ran downtown to deliver some things to Emily at Carew. Amos & I devoured some Dusmesh and took a plate down to Andy, who was also working Carew. Amos & I returned to his place and played video games and watched The Patriot with Brandy. I got back home around 8:00, and after a much-needed shower, Andy & I picked up nachos and wings from Rock Bottom downtown, and we feasted while watching Woody Allen's Annie Hall.


Sunday. I had my becoming-ritual breakfast burritos, and then I sat on the front porch and finished The Last Full Measure, and I celebrated by finishing the Ken Burns' serial documentary of The Civil War. I went down to Carew to see Emily & Andy and also to get an iced soy mocha. I spent the afternoon doing some much needed R&R, and then I went to the Starbucks in Mariemont for a bit and then hiked over to The Anchor to do some writing. I went over to Amos' yet again, and we played MW3. Andy came by, joined us for a bit, and then we all went back to The Claypole House: Amos is opening Carew tomorrow, with C. Isaac being in Portland visiting Rob & Mandy, and since I'm opening 600, he's hitching a ride with me come morning.


It's been a pretty good week.
I've really needed that.

on historical fiction

I collected all the current works of Jeff Shaara to read through the summer and fall and winter of this year. Reading good fiction is invigorating and refreshing, it enables me to sorta escape my "situation in life" as I plug into someone else's. I've always been a fan of historical fiction, at least if it's done well, and Jeff Shaara does it very well. He focuses more on the characters than anything else, and he portrays the crucial events through the characters' eyes and from their perspectives. Much historical fiction is composed of cardboard-character sketches laced with spasmodic realism; Shaara goes beyond all this to create an atmosphere of gritty realism. 

The Civil War trilogy was started by Jeff's father Michael with his publication of The Killer Angels in 1974. Fast forward a few decades, and Michael's dead but his son's all grown up and following in his father's footsteps. He started off with the two books sandwiching his father's, Gods & Generals and The Last Full Measure. The first deals with the causes of the war, the escalation of hostility, and the breakout of violence at Fort Sumter. It follows Union soldiers Lawrence Chamberlain and Winfield Scott Hancock, and on the Confederate side we see things from the point-of-view of Robert E. Lee and "Stonewall" Jackson. The battles of first and second Manassas take place, and then there comes Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville. The string of victories turns the Confederate defense into an offensive, and the book ends with Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia invading the north. Michael's book The Killer Angels chronicles the devastating Confederate defeat at Gettysburg, and Jeff's The Last Full Measure follows the next two years: Robert E. Lee's systematic defeats and decimation under Ulysses S. Grant, culminating in the siege of Petersburg, the flight to Appomattox (too lazy to see if I spelled that correctly; the red squiggly line helped me correct it), and the eventual surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia to Grant in 1865. The last few pages chronicles the fates of the major characters--Lee, Grant, and Chamberlain--past Lincoln's assassination and into Reconstruction.

With the Civil War trilogy finished, I'm going backwards in time to his two-part coverage of the American Revolution. The first book is Rise to Rebellion, chronicling all the events leading up to and slightly beyond the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and then the second book, The Glorious Cause, covers the war to its end at Yorktown. After that I'm going to read Gone for Soldiers, the account of the Mexican-American War, and then it's off to his books about the world wars. 

So, what does this mean for my readers?

It means you won't be hearing about the Civil War every other post.

(though you'll probably here a bit more about the American Revolution)

our christmas present

the 56th week

this is what we're losing

Monday. James and I opened; he's back to help this week since we're super understaffed. President Obama ate at the Skyline across the street, there was much ado about it all downtown. I spent the evening after work eating sunflower seeds and watching the third Transformers movie. "This is a 2 1/2 hour commercial for Optimus Prime Jet-pack," Andy said. Everyone at the house went over to Brandy's for the night, but I had a nasty headache so I stayed back home. I felt restless so I went to The Anchor, and then I ended up meeting up with Emily and Isaac at Roh's Street Cafe. She and Gabe just returned from vacation in Austin, where they got married. They had a pretty exciting honeymoon, and not in the way you like. Indiana is filled with its trickeries.

Tuesday. I went to The Anchor before closing with Stephanie. Amos, Emily, Brandon & Isaac are doing their Serv-Safe certifications this week. "Why the two people who work with food the most weren't part of the first batch beats me," Tiffany said. She has a point. With our store at a skeleton crew, and with Sarah on vacation in Florida, Tiffany & I had been "left behind" so-to-speak to make sure things aren't run into the ground. I went back to The Anchor after work, then met up with a friend at Rock Bottom and had a couple Summer Honey Ales. Good times.

Wednesday. I woke late and missed The Anchor, so I went by McDonald's for some breakfast burritos before going in early to try and take care of some things before I had to jump behind the counter. It was pretty much chaos when I got in, so I leapt in and we had it under control in 'bout forty-five minutes. The rest of the evening was smooth, despite a catering order delivery at 4:00 (don't even get me started about T.M. catering...), and I finished the last delivery just as the sky turned black and a storm broke. I rushed outside in awe at how the storm's advance could be seen in the sleek skyscraper windows, and I went across the street to join Luke who was taking a break from brewing beer to do the same thing. Once the rain hammered down, I clung to the bay windows watching it all. Power outages, wrecks everyone, flooding... It was a nice summer storm. I went over to Brandon's apartment right after work, and he cooked an amazing Thai dish (he's quite the chef) while Emily and I tried to figure out her new IPAD. "The biggest plate is for you, thanks for keeping me sane at work." After work I drove up to Dayton to see Joe. "The lymph nodes are definitely smaller, they're normal-sized now." That was quite the relief, like a weight off my shoulders; and some of my other concerns were addressed, but they weren't as concerning as I thought. I've just been paying so much attention to my body, it seems, that I've been noticing things I haven't before. 

Thursday. I woke thinking, "It's only Thursday?" Work's been ravaging my soul and strength these last couple weeks. Sometimes it's like I assume to be going in early or staying late, knowing the whole time we'll be trying to get the job done and done well without enough people and lacking in basic needs, and at the end of the day you hope you did a good enough job so that tomorrow won't be as crazy as you assume it'll be. That's T.M. right now, and we're losing Stephanie who's a bad-ass barista, and Andy's virtually put in his two weeks. But we're hiring a few new people, and if they're good hires, that could be good. I went to The Anchor after work--"Your zen," Brandon said--and then drove out east to explore uncharted territories and to uncover hidden vistas. And I did a damned good job, too.

Friday. I opened with Stephanie, her last day. At the close of my shift I went across the street to Rock Bottom and got a growler of their K-9 English Session beer off Luke. Andy & I crossed paths, and we walked to our cars together, talking about the War of the Roses. "English history is like Game of Thrones, except it's real," Andy quipped. Amos & Blake joined us for coffee and breakfast dinner at the Anchor, with Damien Jurado playing on the jukebox (our tradition). We rounded out the night hanging out upstairs in Blake's room playing NBA Jam. It's phenomenal. A good highlight: got to talk to Mandy out in Portland! She's constantly putting pictures of the area on facebook, the landscape taunting me. "We have rain forests, out here!" she exclaimed. Yes, Mandy, I know they have rain-forests: I zip-lined through them! The Pacific Northwest has always held a certain place in my heart, and I'm so jealous that she gets to live in it.

Saturday. I went to The Anchor and then got lunch at Dusmesh with Amos & Andy. I spent the afternoon napping and writing, and Amos moved most of his things over to Brandy's. I honestly didn't realize he was moving out so soon. Around 8:00 people started showing up for our ill-advertised Big Lebowski Party. We drank white russians, at egg rolls and spinach dip (unrelated), and watch the movie. Jessie & Tony came, and it was nice catching up with her. Encouraging and refreshing. The party lasted till 'bout dawn, ending with Andy territorially pissing on the maple tree out front and Isaac puking his guts out in the basement with only a few hours to spare before opening at Carew. Blake & I were up until 3:30 AM playing NBA Jam. Ams missed the party, went up north to be in Anna H.'s wedding.

Sunday. I got McDonald's for breakfast and ate it while watching 10 Items or Less. "This is so 600 Vine," Tiffany remarked. I went down to Carew to get a drink and to visit Isaac & Emily before running to the bank in Delhi (it feels like Appalachia out there). I spent the afternoon cleaning, doing laundry, and journaling--much has been on my mind. Isaac & Emily came over after closing Carew, and we hung out for a while and then Blake and I went to The Anchor. He got chocolate pie and I got an omelette with home fries and wheat toast. Both of us got coffee, of course. We had some good talks, some serious and some not-so-serious, and it was a pretty good time. I spent the rest of my evening reading The Last Full Measure and watching Ken Burns' The Civil War mini-series. Only one more episode to go and I've watched them all! Then on to something new.

a damned good doctor's visit

I had my two-month follow-up with Joe regarding all these health issues I've been having as of late. He did a thorough check-up, head-to-toe, did vitals and all that, and it's good news: everything's in great, pristine working order, and my lymph nodes haven't just grown smaller but returned to normal size. "You just got so skinny, the fat that usually cushions them was almost gone, so you could feel them like you couldn't before." They may have been enlarged due to the urinary tract infection that was taken care of back in May, but now they're back to normal size, and that's excellent news. Lymphoma? That never should have been mentioned. The infection was eliminated, according to the blood-work, and the matter has pretty much been put to rest. We're going to do another check-up in a couple months, not because he suspects anything, but because he knows how I worry. Chances are extremely high that the lymph nodes will be the same normal size, as would be expected with a healthy 25-year-old guy. Some other ailments I've been having are due to stress and of no concern: "You're describing things that everyone experiences at one point or another. You're just paying so much attention to your body now that you notice them like never before." And thus things are calming down, and I'm feeling much better, definitely less stressed: it's funny, because those ailments that have been accosting me so much lately have been almost non-existent today. And why? Probably because I was stressing out about the doctor's visit, and now that it's passed and passed well, I've calmed down. 

Also, I'm writing this at The Anchor.

I almost titled this post "from the anchor (IV)", but that's getting pretty redundant.

from the anchor (III)

It's 7:00 P.M. and I'm sitting at The Anchor with a cup of coffee (decaf, of course, always decaf this late), and I'm listening to the cooks frying some eggs and sitting here with this blank page before me. A few nights ago the Wisconsinite and I got to talk on the phone, and it was great. We've been shooting emails back and forth, keeping each other up-to-date with our separate worlds as she single-handedly runs Camp Grow. We talked about lots of things, but something noteworthy we talked about is what we think is important in life. What with all the stress and drama over the past couple months that makes anything before May seem like a far-away time & place, I've had lots of time (and reason) to think about such things. I don't like being put on the spot, but she forced me into it, and I'm going to recap (with a bit more fluff and frill) what I told her holds importance to me when it comes to life (and these are in no particular order, they're not ranked or anything).

Family. Life is littered with hardships, and doing it alone makes it all the harder. Our lives are ripe with instability, and family gives us an anchor during those hard times, enables us to endure and overcome those things that would otherwise overwhelm us. The storms are hard enough, why face them alone? These last few chaotic months, my family has kept me sane in more ways than they know. When I look ahead into my future (what a joke), and when I imagine life with my future wife, I don't picture some pipe-dream where flowers bloom in the windowsills and the sun never sets. We'll both have shit we'll go through, but we won't be going through it alone. She won't go through her hard spells without me by my side, and vice versa. A quiet touch, her simple presence, these will do far more than the hollow words and sentiments of half-hearted friends. I've heard it said that marriage should be held off until we've got all our ducks in a row, until we've got everything figured out, until we've come to some sort of stable place in life. All this assumes, of course, that we can get all our ducks in a row, can figure all our shit out, can find stability in life. But I see more and more that these are things that life itself doesn't really provide. Life remains chaotic and uncertain, and I don't know, maybe I'm crazy, but I'm thinking that if you find someone you want to be with, and you're confident of that, then why wait? And if you do wait, what're you waiting for? This is a tangent and I should probably delete it, but I won't, because I think the point's important: life's full of obstacles we must overcome, and we can't expect that to change. We shouldn't postpone life in the hope that things will smooth out for us. It doesn't always work like that. Life's hard, and if you're lucky, you've got someone to go through it with.

Character. At the end of the day, if the world has been made a better place because of my presence, then I'd call it a job well done. Accomplishments and victories will be overshadowed and forgotten; why focus on any of that? Over the past few months, I've really been thinking that the main thing we should focus on is who we are and who we're becoming. What matters isn't our credentials, our influence, our sphere of power, our prestige or popularity. What matters is the sort of people we are. I want to be remembered as someone who was loving, generous, kind, and (of course) pretty crazy. I'm not even kidding about that last part: I want people to remember me as the crazy guy who was actually quite all right.

Faith. As a Christian by personal and intellectual choice, of course this ranks on the list. I may not fit the cookie-cutter mold, I may have a few heresies hidden up my sleeves (you know, to keep things interesting), but when it comes to the basic tenants of Christianity, I find myself in agreement. If I were to list the first two without listing this one, I'd be doing my readers an injustice. As a Christian, I believe that one's standing before God, and his or her manner of life before him, is of utmost importance. 

My coffee's drained, my phone's ringing, and my wrist hurts.

So I'm going to call this post quits.

Good night.

the 55th week

Fountain Square is waaaay too crowded for my tastes

Monday. Sarah & I opened together, and after hanging out with Blakey a bit back at the house I went to The Anchor and spent much of the afternoon and evening writing. It was a low-key night hanging out with the roommates. Andy and I ordered nachos from Rock Bottom and I picked them up and we ate them in front of "The Office".

Tuesday. I went to The Anchor before closing with Amos, and we rushed to my car to try and outrun the World Choir Games parade that had downtown packed to the gills. The evening was spent watching TV and playing video games with Amos. Andy's been applying for jobs, has a couple interview. I need to get on that. Ams & I had a good heart-to-heart, albeit over text (since she was working), and I can empathize with her. I feel lonely and lifeless, envious of the happiness of the families all around me. Empty, barren, poured-out and stretched thin, aching for the fresh wind of change but feeling only the stifling and stagnant humidity.

Wednesday. I did another bout at The Anchor before closing with Brandon. The rest of the evening was spent (a) reading The Last Full Measure, (b) gamin' with Amos, and (c) hanging out with Patrick D.: we got dinner at the Irish Pub downtown, and my Bass Red Ale came free from the head chef (he gets a large caramel latte, religiously). Pat remarked, "I can't go anywhere with you downtown without someone giving you free drinks!" And to top it off, my mussels in a garlic-white wine herb broth were off-the-charts, far better than my own previous attempts at home-steamed mussels. Pat & I returned to my place, and we sat on the back porch and played some Call of Duty. "Doesn't this remind you of when we used to go over to Chris & Lee's just to play Goldeneye on the N64 for hours?" Pat remarked. We spent much of the evening on the front porch talking about our stations in life. It's always good to talk to him about such things. He pointed out that though I may be fearful about the future, I've got a good head on my shoulders and am decently well-grounded. I may not have everything figured out, but I'm asking questions lots of people don't, and I've got more squared away than many.

Thursday. Stephanie and I opened together, had a really solid morning despite a rushed catering order. I grabbed Chipotle for dinner, talked with Ams for a bit back home, and spent the evening hanging out with Amos & Andy. Related to my health: the lymph nodes still haven't grown, and indeed they may even be smaller! I'm calming down, slowly but surely, though sometimes I still freak out, and the stress, albeit less intense, remains. Most, if not all, of my current complaints are most likely due to stress. And I'm not alone: the aches & pains are shared among all of those slaving away at 600 Vine. There are moments when I start thinking I have lymphoma again: but the nodes don't match, and the gauntlet of tests tell me that my blood is exceptional and I have healthy bones. There's really no reason to worry, except for that little beast called Uncertainty, and yet--at times--I do, even to the point of letting the unknown of it all cloud my entire day is the most unfortunate way. But I must let logic & reason trump all irrational fears birthed from paranoia.

Friday. I went to The Anchor but had to leave early, since Stephanie was violently sick. The World Choir Games are coming to an end, but the 90,000 foreigners who've descended upon the city have spread germs unknown to us, and now Cincinnati's reporting a skyrocketing number of sicknesses. On my way in I was stuck in traffic downtown for fifteen minutes, and I was stopped at the light on 5th and Vine for two signal changes because someone decided to just start unloading their car in the middle of the road to get to Fountain Square with no concern for the other drivers. Truly irritated me. If I had road rage... Today was Tiffany's 26th birthday, so we celebrated with some free Rock Bottom in the back room: brewery nachos, ballpark pretzels, and a growler of the Summer Honey Ale. We downed most of the growler before the lunch rush, and thus we were feeling pretty good once the chaos began. After work Brandon had to take the Tazz Mobile to 1215, so I rode along. I spent the night in Dayton, needing to get out of the jam-packed city (see picture above), and Grandma & I sat out on the front porch long past sunset. Mom & Dad went to Cincinnati for the Red's Game, so it was just me and Grandma, and we made do. When she went to bed I cuddled with Sky on the sofa and she fell asleep while we watched Civil War documentaries. On a sad note, Grandma told me that Grandpa has cancer, as does his two sisters. Cancer, cancer. It's all over the place these days. It used to be called death by natural causes; now we have names for all of them. My prayers go out to him. "I wish no ill of him," Grandma said, "despite all he's done to us." She's one of the most forgiving people I know. It's true what I told Brandon: "Being home, around unconditional love, is the best remedy to my stress and anxiety."

Saturday. Grandma & I started the morning with coffee and the newspaper on the front porch, Tanner curled up at my feet. We got McDonald's for breakfast and LaRosa's for lunch (Dad joining us after his run). I went over to Tyler's for a bit, and we talked and listened to music (he's really into Rihanna & Katy Perry for some reason), and we shot zombies on Call of Duty: World at War. I went to The Anchor on my drive home, and I spent the evening hanging out with Blake & Amos. I went on a city-lights drive across the bridge to Newport and went to the Beer Sellar on the river. I just got a diet coke, 'cause beer messes with my stomach, and I sat on the barge's deck and watched the fireworks from Covington reflecting in the skyscraper windows across the river (and, with the river, you know I imagined it to be the sounds of that cursed stone wall the Federals sought to take after crossing the river at Fredericksburg). I was wearing stained shorts, a green t-shirt WAY too big for me, my hair was a mess and my black shoes with white socks couldn't even touch the ground from the stool. I was a hot mess and got more than a couple second-takes, and I smiled, thought, I'm the craziest person these people could ever know. You wouldn't expect it from a 25-year-old who looks like he's 16 tops. The highlight of the day was an hour-long phone conversation with Mandy K., catching up on life. It was supposed to be only ten minutes, but you know how that goes. It was really great to talk to her, to laugh with her, to hear her voice. We've been exchanging emails during her time "in the field" at Camp Grow, and I like that.

Sunday. I went to The Anchor and watched some Youtube videos countering the New Atheism movements. Some were super good, others superbly pathetic. After running errands in Delhi, I waited out a thunderous storm and then drove to Dayton (yes, again: I forgot my netbook charger at Mom & Dad's), and I waited out yet another storm at Tyler's playing Call of Duty. I returned to Cincinnati, played hockey with Amos, went on a sunset drive, and enjoyed Front Porch Timez (yes, with a Z) with Andy & Isaac. I was in bed by 10:00. Ams, having read one of my recent blog posts, remarked, "You really ARE an old man!" 

total eclipse of the heart (literally)

I've asked Blake more than once for the name of this video to share with all three of my readers.
As you know, it generally takes me more than one go to really "get" something.
But this video is amazing.

an old soul

HOME.

Grandma and I sat out on the front porch this morning reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. I came up to Dayton last night, just needed to get away from the city. I enjoy living in the city, I really do, but deep down I'm a country boy at heart, I'm sure of it. I like the quiet of the country, how you can hear the insects at night, the crispness of the air. Cincinnati's population of upwards 300,000 gained an extra 90,000 over the last week due to the World Choir Games. We've had people from England, Australia, Scotland, Italy, Brazil, and especially the Asian nations coming through our store (the South Americans and Italians make multiple return trips, emphasizing how we're the only coffee shop in the area who does coffee right). The streets have been flooded with bands and orchestras, with people dressed up in all sorts of nationalistic and tribal clothing, going around singing in a plethora of different languages. It's been cool to see, but also exhausting: I'm ready for Cincinnati to get back to normal again. I'm ready for the people driving downtown to be people who know how to be driving downtown; thankfully I'm not one who suffers from "road rage", but if I were, several foreigners would probably have been slain by the crossbow locked away in my trunk.

Coming to Dayton--well, Centerville, if you want to get technical--always makes me feel a little bit more at ease. I think it's being around my parents and grandmother, being around unconditional love, that alleviates the stress sledgehammering me from several different angles. I'm able to think a little more clearly, able to breathe a little more deeply, able to sleep a little more soundly. A few nights ago, Patrick and I met up at Nicholson's Irish Pub just around the block from work, and we enjoyed beer and I had some steamed mussels, and we talked about how discontent we feel in our stations in life. I'm 25 years old and honestly feel lost when it comes to life, but Pat pointed out that most 25 year-olds are accosted by such feelings, and others simply don't think about it. A lot of people my age are just trying to enjoy life the best they can, through pleasure; but such a life is repulsive to me. I can see through the veil, so-to-speak, and I've seen what that kind of living produces, have seen it countless times in those dear to me. I may not know all the specifics about what I want to do, where my life is going, or any of that; I may not have a blueprint, but at least I have a foundation. I at least know a thing or two about what I genuinely want out of life, and it comes as no surprise to those who (a) know me or (b) read my blog: love.

As Brandon put it, "Love is the meaning of life, it's what it's all about." Being gay, he's found himself super frustrated. "It's hard finding someone you can love and be loved by if you're gay," he said. He avoids gay bars because it's just people hooking up, and he doesn't want that. He kiddingly remarked that being gay may be the bane of his existence: "If I were straight, I'd probably be married and have kids by now." I quipped that gay or straight, love remains something difficult to find, and the unfortunate reality is that most people our age are more interested in the fancy-free illusion of love rather than the commitment, dedication, and resolve needed to see love through to the end. 

Maureen told me, "You're an old soul, wise beyond your years, trapped in a young man's body." I don't know about the whole wisdom thing (I can point out more than a few not-so-wise decisions I've made throughout my life), but she may be somewhat right: I agonize over life, over relationships, over the meaning of it all and what I'm supposed to be doing. Mine's a contemplative soul, and it's a bittersweet thing: contemplation opens doors to unknown vistas, but too much contemplation may open doors that would be better left bolted shut. Sometimes I fear being 40 and being alone and miserable and just as lost. But Patrick thinks that unlikely. "You're stronger, wiser, and smarter than you know. You're different from most of my friends, and in a good way: you're well-grounded, you love more responsibly than most, and you have a compassionate and loving heart. You have a good soul." I may have an old soul, but I'm not sure if it's good. Nevertheless, I'm hoping he's right.

coats of ice

I can't stop listening to this song.
Which isn't surprising: it's Damien Jurado, after all.
In a way, this song epitomizes what I've been feeling lately.
Take a gander. Please?

from the anchor (II)

There's a rhythm to my madness, a point to my routine. On the days I go into work later in the morning, I try my hardest to make it to The Anchor: a cup of coffee, sometimes some eggs and toast, or some cottage cheese with crackers. I like to come here and write, to read, to think. I've filled maybe six or seven college-ruled notebooks with my rants & ramblings, with my confessions and fears, my doubts and hesitations. Many of these writings have found their way onto this blog at some point or another, but more than half remain known only by the notebooks and myself. These precious hours at the Anchor serve as just that: an anchor. I give myself time to think through my thoughts, time to piece together all the disjointed ideas tumbling about in this strange brain of mine.

If anything defines the last three months, it's one word: stress. Mostly the stress has been due to the uncertainty of my health, though I'm getting better at that. The lymph nodes seem to be smaller; and if not smaller, they certainly haven't grown. It may very well be the case that there's nothing at all wrong with them, that they're just big. It happens sometimes. That's a best-case scenario; a worst-case scenario, well, I don't even know what that would be. Not cancer, which was my earliest and gravest concern (thanks to the eager pronunciations of a government-fed doctor): the nodes don't carry the characteristics of lymphoma, and I'm not presenting any other symptoms associated with it. The stress of all that, however, has done a number on me. Like most of my family, I carry my stress in my shoulders, neck and back. My muscles are tense, they ache. Sometimes I feel like an old man, to be entirely honest. I'm not suffering alone: most people I've told about my stress have the same things going on with them. It seems everyone's stressed about something or another this summer. I'm very thankful that I haven't had any panic attacks this month. I think that's worthy of celebration.

The reality is, I feel different since May. I don't really know what it is, or even how to explain it. I look back on those days before the unfortunate cancer diagnosis, and then I look at these days now, and there's a change in tempo, a change in mood. It's like someone's taken my life and colored it a darker lens. I feel like I'm living life in black-&-white while I know that it's meant to be lived in color. I feel empty, barren, poured-out and stretched-thin. It's a lifeless, dull feeling. I feel like nothing more than a lost person in a sea of people headed to their own definite but uncertain demise, like we're all running around and trying to live the best we can while keeping at bay the knowledge that one day it'll end, we'll die, we'll be forgotten. I've thought a lot about death lately, about what it'd be like. Of course, one's worldview paints the answer, because no one really knows what death is like, because those who have undergone it completely haven't come back to tell us. Really, we have no reason to fear it more than we do to seek it. It's a mystery, the final mystery, an unsolvable mystery. "What lies on the other side?" We all have answers: some say nothing, others say everything. Some say there's nothing but torment the other side of death, others nothing but paradise. Really, we don't know, and we're left to our opinions. But all this aside, this appalling cloud of darkness that's settled over me since May may have some good fortune to it, but we will see that only in time. 

the 54th week

600 Vine group shot! Not pictured: Amos, Emily, & Sarah

Monday. Sarah and I opened, had a really solid morning. After work I napped till 5:00, and Emily brought Amos home after closing 600, and Andy joined us in the basement to shoot the shit and share work-related frustrations. It helps to get it out. Brandy came over with the gift of Chipotle. People started filing out as darkness fell, and I went for a drive through Eden Park. I like these drives 'cause the world seems to stop and I have time to actually breathe and think.

The 149th Anniversary of the Last Day of Gettysburg. I went to The Anchor before closing shop with Amos. Bob wants us to be open tomorrow for The World Choir Games, so Brandon & I are going in with Ana in case business warrants the salad bar. I'd like to have tomorrow off work with all my buddies, but oh well: I'll be getting paid time and a half! Ha, as if. After work Andy, Sarah & I went over to Rock Bottom for some Summery Honey Ales. Brandy & Aaron came over later in the evening, and we made a fire and played the drinking game Train, and we had hot dogs and s'mores and I was in bed by 11:00. The party raged long after, late into the night, 'till 4 A.M. The party was a success, with not one but two blackouts. Pickett's charge, perhaps one of the greatest mistakes of the Civil War and the landmark tragedy of Gettysburg, took place on this day 149 years ago, thus ending the battle.

Independence Day. Today begins The Choir Games, and when I went into work, downtown was vacant. Brandon & I had no more than two customers from 7:30-10:00, and the building charged us $250 to turn on the AC, and once we learned about it, we shut everything down. We ran by Carew to see Isaac, Gina & Shannon, and then I took Brandon home. Isaac came by the house, and Sarah came over around 3:00, followed by Emily at 4:00. We hung out in the basement, laughing till our guts hurt. Isaac & Amos went out to Indiana and the girls went their separate ways. I grabbed Subway for lunch, took a walk 'round Eden Park, and Andy & I went for a walk out to C.C.U., and we went to the rock ledge and watched the fireworks peppering the hills beyond and across the river. I ended the night on the front porch reading The Last Full Measure and pretending the fireworks were the distant sounds of Bristoe Station (not Gettysburg; we're past that). A misguided firecracker burst low over our roof and showered the street in red fire. Bits and pieces of it fell from the sky and lodged in our maple tree and fell onto our neighbors' S.U.V.

Thursday. The Choir Games are in full swing, and Asians have taken over downtown Cincinnati. And you know they're taking pictures of everything. "Let's be honest," Brandon said: "This isn't The Choir Games. It's the Asian Choir Olympics." Emily & I (and Blake too) refer to it as "The Hunger Games", though that can be politically misleading. I went to The Anchor after doing Food Prep for Ana, reshaping some more of The Procyon Strain: Book One. I just can't seem to pull it together. Amos & I grabbed Wendy's for dinner, and we spent the evening hanging out with Blake & Andy. Interesting news: Matthew & Shelby, who were married in May, are several weeks pregnant. Honeymoon Baby.

Friday. I ran by the bank and got coffee at The Anchor before closing 600 with Brandon & Sarah. It was a quick close, and I went over to Brandon's for a bit before heading home. Blake, Ams, Andy & I went to The Anchor for dinner. The evening service was awful, it generally is. I didn't get my O.J. and the others didn't get their coffee! Back home we spent the night hanging out with John & Brandy and Josh & Isaac. Leah told me today was Carly's last day at Spring Valley. Apparently she's being transferred down to somewhere in my neck of the woods. Jessica S., who used to date Chris way back in the day, found out Chris W. & I don't talk anymore, and wondered why. "You guys were like best friends!" I couldn't give her an answer. We just drifted apart. Life's like that: a revolving door.

Saturday. I went to The Anchor and sent out an email to The Wisconsinite, just filling her in on all that's been happening. I'm glad that we still have a pretty solid, open, and comfortable friendship. I grabbed some McDonald's for brunch, and Blake & I hit up Carew for coffee and a peanut butter cookie and to visit Andy & Isaac. Gabe & Emily came by the house to hang out for a bit. They're heading out to Austin tomorrow, finally getting hitched. I spent the evening writing, finally finished my FINAL revision of The Procyon Strain: Book One. It's around 250 pages, where I want each book to be. Amos spent the day partying with Brandy, Blake went and visited some friends, and Ams worked. Andy came home but only for a little bit. So I sat on the porch for hours and read The Last Full Measure, and Eric & Tiffany were at their mother's, and Eric brought Adler over so she could ask me a question: "Antwonz, can you talk?" I laughed, said, "Yes, Adler, as a matter of fact I do!" I went for a late-night drive with some Sobe and hung out with Ams for a bit late into the night. Carly's transferring to the 'Bux on 4th and Vine, just a hop and a skip (quite literally) from my place on 6th Street!

Sunday. Andy & I got Dusmesh for lunch: it'd been a while, and I gorged myself. I took my ritualistic Indian nap when we got home, and Ams & I had some much-needed alone time, talking about things swirling around us in this weird world we live in. I went to The Anchor to do some more writing, and the rest of my night was spent hanging out with Blake & Amos and watching Civil War documentaries online. Ams and I were supposed to go on a hot air balloon ride today with Dad (Mom's scared of heights, is going to trail us in the car), but the late-evening storms demanded a rain-check. 

from the anchor

I'm trying to decide whether I want a Western omelette. I'm thinking I'll pass today, despite my hunger: it'd be far more enjoyable to eat while watching "The Office." The older men in the booth across from me are talking about selling their homes and buying boats and living off the river. It sounds romantic, but McCarthy's Suttree plucks the romanticism right out of it. 

I've really been getting into historical fiction, as long as it's well-written. A few weeks ago--maybe even months, my chronological frame of reference is a bit off-kilter--Andy and I stood out by our fire in the backyard talking about literature, as we sometimes do (though he is much more versed than I am), and we talked about historical fiction, the good historical fiction. There's a lot of awful fiction out there, but Jeff & Michael Shaara's historical fiction is exactly the kind I want: realistic, well-researched, free of all the needless modern accessories that tend to slip through the cracks. I have all the Shaara books, am steadily plodding through them. I'm close to being finished with the first Civil War trilogy (there's a second Civil War trilogy in the works, the first book--Blaze of Glory, all about the Battle of Shiloh--is already out. But I haven't bought it, since it's only in hardcover right now and I prefer paperbacks. These books cover nearly every American war, though he hasn't written anything past World War II. Maybe it's just too soon for Vietnam?

The Quest hasn't been forgotten. Posts are being formulated. I won't promise when they'll be up. Could be some time yet. I want to try my best to leave no stone unturned.

Things at work have been ok. Frustrating at times, angering a lot, but there are moments amongst the stress and chaos that I realize how blessed I am to be with a coffee shop that sells good coffee, to work with people I've loved. I've always been blessed to work with great people wherever I go, but here at Tazza Mia I'm working with people who are like family to me. I like that. There may be a lot of changes in the future with staffing, but I'm pretty sure I'll be here for a while yet. At this point, one might say, I'm just along for the ride, here to see what happens. It'll probably be something similar to Bull Run. I really need to stop these Civil War references. Don't worry: once I finish The Last Full Measure, all this will be behind us.

I'm going to post this. Gather my things. Pay. And then go home to get in a knife-fight with Amos.

independence day: cut-off style

I saw this on Facebook and couldn't resist.
Also, it's okay to have only two lines of text when there's a picture.

an anniversary

Pickett's Charge. A grade-A disaster for the Confederacy and a turkey-shoot for the Federals.

149 years ago (God, please let that be accurate) the Confederate Army under General Robert E. Lee lost to General Meade of the Union Army of the Potomac at a place called Gettysburg. These days were days that will live in infamy, coming in 3rd, perhaps, behind Pearl Harbor and, of course, 9/11. The Confederate defeat was due to a variety of causes, not only the fact that the Confederate Army was out-manned and out-gunned by the Federal forces. Cavalry officer J.E.B. Stuart decided to go joy-riding in northern territory, trying to make a name for himself, and in the process he left Lee completely blind to the Federal troop movements. The matter wasn't merely due to bad ground, though the Confederates certainly did have that (one could say that the entire battle could've been turned around if the Confederate officer Ewell had taken Cemetery Ridge as he was supposed to. But he didn't, and after the first day's battle, the Union forces were entrenched in the hills around Gettysburg. Despite his best generals warning him against attacking--General Longstreet implored Lee to retreat and find better ground--Lee's only desire to see the war end, and his conviction that fighting the battle on bad ground was the will of God, led thousands upon thousands of Confederate soldiers to their deaths. The second day's fighting took place along the southern end of the Federal position, at a place called Devil's Den and Little Round Top. The Federalist 20th Maine held off Longstreet's attack, and on the third day 12,500 Confederate troops swarmed into the promise of death in a failed attack known as Pickett's Charge. The death toll ranged anywhere between 46,000 to 51,000 dead for both armies. Lee's string of victories--not least Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville--came to an end in this battle, a battle that left Lee's army in tatters and turned the tide of war against the South. 

I'm aware no one, probably, read any of that.

But it's interesting to me, so there you have it.

In my opinion, all the fireworks from the 1-3 are in honor of the three-day battle.

Independence Day is just the icing of the cake (as long as you're a Union supporter).

And for further intrigue: The Ghosts of Gettysburg. 

the 53rd week

photo courtesy of Cat-Herine.
from the Rock Bottom Brewery botanical gardens

Monday. Work: uneventful. My day: likewise. The highlight: a roommate dinner of linguini, alfredo, mushrooms and broccoli, with grilled chicken and artisan bread. I must come to accept the fact that putting my life on stand-by waiting for a resolution that will never come does nothing but breeds stagnation. 

Tuesday. I went to The Anchor before closing 600. There was lots of chaos when I walked in: Tiffany stressed out and threatening to quit, Brandon going crazy with stress, and Ana quietly observing it all. Brandon and I enjoyed a cigarette by the fountain before parting ways, and I went to the duck pond at Eden Park and read up on the 20th Maine's defense of Little Round Top at Gettysburg, and then I broiled steak for dinner while Isaac and Josh brewed honey beer in the kitchen, and Blake got home from Portland and we crowded his room and watched The Hangover 2. 

Wednesday. I went to The Anchor before closing with Brandon. After work we met up with Amos & Cat at Rock Bottom for beers and food: fried calamari, ball park pretzels, and pork sliders (and those were just the appetizers). I had a Summery Honey Ale and a Belgian White, was feeling pretty good. The evening was spent reading The Killer Angels.

Mom's Birthday. Last year this time we were in Savannah, Georgia. I miss that place, I really do. I worked Food Prep today, and it was another crazy day: USFoods came late again, we were understaffed and slammed with the 104 degree heat wave. I was going to get a beer from Rock Bottom and sit on the patio, but it was too damned hot and I was too damned tired, so I just went home and passed out with my A.C. blasting. Andy and I went to Kroger, and we watched "Ghosbusters" and had a dinner of fruity pebbles and popsicles. Brandon came over for a bit, and we sat in the dungeon and talked about all the frustrations we have with work at the moment. I confessed to Amos, "I've been missing the 'Bux a lot lately: the organization, the staffing, the procedures, the financial security, the benefits." He can't blame me. Brandon left and I went for a drive--some church was burning on State Avenue, people were crowding the viaduct overlook to watch--and I rounded out the night reading The Killer Angels.

Friday. Isaac & I met up at The Anchor for much-missed cigarettes, coffee, and conversation. We talked about all the chaos at work, "The Farm" (a communal project he's throwing together at a 'political pace'), and we reminisced on the days when Rob was around, when all of Tazza Mia was like a family. Now the comraderie has diminished to me, Isaac, Amos, Andy, Emily and Brandon (with Tiffany as an honorary member). We both headed off to the work, him to Carew and myself to 600, and I closed with Amos. It was a slow day, and a freaky windstorm blew through the city right at close, the towering buildings serving as wind tunnels. Ams happened to come by, and we went to Chipotle across the street on Fountain Square, and on our way back to the store it started to rain a hammering rain, like a tropical rain. Trash was blowing horizontal through the air, and she gave me a lift to my car and took Amos home. Route 50 looked as if it were the New Orleans dam right before breaking, surges of water breaking against the barricades and surging up like shattered waves glistening in the lightning. It was pretty incredible. When the storm passed it was much cooler, no longer in the 100s, and Brandon came by, and we hung out for a while. He went home to play piano, Andy was in bed by 9:00, and everyone else quickly followed suit. I alone rocked out my Friday night, staying up till 3 A.M. reading The Killer Angels on the front porch.

Saturday. Blake & I shared that awkward moment when we both leave the house separately at the same time and end up going to the same place: McDonald's. We were both just craving their breakfast. It could've been a commercial. I went to The Anchor come evening and finished The Killer Angels, and I celebrated with (a) a western omelette with home fries slathered in onions and gravy, wheat toast and coffee; and (b) back home I finished watching Gettysburg, the book's movie adaptation. It was such a damn good book, I can't wait to start the next (and last) of the trilogy: The Last Full Measure. Isaac came by for a while and passed out on our sofa after hookah, The Big Lebowski, Burn After Reading, and lego sculpting with Andy.

Sunday. Amos, Isaac and I hung out as we got up, and I grabbed breakfast burritos and watched The Office and then took Amos downtown to do inventory at 600. I picked up an iced soy mocha on my way out and jetted up to Centerville to hang out with Tyler. We played MW3 and watched an IMAX movie on the giant dinosaurs of Patagonia. I hung out with Mom, Dad, Grandma & the dogs at my parents' house, and we had Tombstone pizza and watched another storm roll through. Back in Cincinnati I spent the remaining hours of my Sunday night hanging out with the roommates and sitting on the front porch in the damp Georgian air listening to the fireworks that sounded like musketfire and the distant eastern thunder rolling like cannon. Fitting: today is the 149th anniversary of the first day's fighting at Gettysburg. 

I decided to keep this thing going, obviously.

For how long? Who can say?

But I figured I should post on this blog, at least, four times a month.

So in a worse-case scenario, this fits the bill.

crazy: a relic

"Do you know how fucking crazy you are?"
"Absolutely."
"Really? Because I don't think you do."