the 42nd week

Tiffany: "Are you taking a picture of my daughter and beer?"

Monday. Tori & I opened: a slow day, I was home by 1:30 after running errands. Blake, Corey and I hung out most of the afternoon, and after the usual Loth House shenanigans I cloistered myself in my room with my lanterns lit to do a little reading, and I got to talk to the Wisconsinite for a bit before sleep overtook me.

Tuesday. Tori and I opened together, and I went to The Anchor after work, then met up with Ams, Mandy, Kevin and Amos at Rock Bottom. Chloe stopped by, and I took Amos home and hung out with him for a while before enjoying another solid evening of lanterns, reading, and prayer.

Wednesday. Tori and I closed (and were out by 4!), so I had time to do some writing at The Anchor before work. Amos and I hung out for a bit at his place after work, and then Mandy and I watched the season finale of Revolution. I lit my oil lanterns and did some more writing, and then I Skyped with the Wisconsinite. It was great seeing her face--the first time in eleven or so months!--and we told stories and laughed like we always do. She's absolutely beautiful, inside-out!

Thursday. Brittany P. is back with Tazza Mia. After work I hurried to an interview with Walk of Joy, that nonprofit I applied with last week. The interview went GREAT, and Monday will be my first day! I'll be able to supplement Walk of Joy with Tazza Mia, so hopefully some of this financial stress will start to wean itself away. I'm ready to work like a madman, save up a bunch of money, and then GTFO. I went to The Anchor to celebrate (original, I know), and then I went to Amos' and we played video games. He was excited for me at the news. He should be getting another job here soon, especially since he was fired weeks ago. TM is a riot sometimes.

Friday. I ran downtown to do the food order and ended up working for 'bout an hour despite having the day off. I broke the news about the second job to Eric; he said I could still work part-time. Sarah had trouble with her car in Covington, so I went across the river and tried to jump it for her but no luck. I did some grocery shopping and headed downtown to do some reading at Panera (Cruciformity) before grabbing drinks with Eric, Tiffany, and the Tiblets at Rock Bottom. Ams and I met up back at the apartment, and she drove us back downtown for a night of shows at Midpoint Music Festival: Head and the Heart at Washington Park, a country-esque band at Taft Theater, and then--best of all--Damien Jurado at the Blue Whisp Jazz Club. After Head and the Heart I ran by work to pull a shot of espresso and several showgoers thought we were open and I shooed them away; "No, we're not open, I'm just awesome so I get free espresso whenever I want." I got to talk to the Wisconsinite between the country band and Damien Jurado; I sat out on the Blue Whisp patio and enjoyed our talks before Damien Jurado took the stage. Sheets, Arkansas, Nothing is the News, Cloudy Shoes, and of course Ohio (among others). We were right up front as close as you could get, closer than Blake, Andy and I had been when we saw Jurado in Nashville last year. The night, filled with great shows, was also filled with great people: Ams, Mandy, Amos, Andy, Gambill, Corey, and others. We ran into lots of people throughout the night: Dewenter, Jake, and the Coon-dog to name a few. Ams and I got back to the apartment around 1:30 AM and I passed out something awful.

Saturday. I went to The Anchor to write before running errands with Mandy. Andy and Ams came over, and the four of us went to Shaan Indian buffet in Oakley for lunch. Samosas, bhatura bread, naan, chicken curry and saag poured over a bed of basmati rice. SO GOOD. The afternoon was spent hanging out and cleaning around the house. Kevin came over for a bit, and I started watching a new postapocalyptic TV show since I just finished Revolution: BBC's Survivors. It's about the world after a flu-like virus wipes out 99% of the population. The highlight of my day was a trip to Wal-Greens with the Wisconsinite.

Sunday. I went to The Anchor before hitting up U.C.C.'s early service. Mandy made a french-press of Natural Konga and I did some work for T.M. while sipping from the cup. I ran by Amos' before heading up to Mom and Dad's to grab paperwork for my new job and enjoy dinner with them (Subway). I went back by the Loth House to round out the night with some Mario Soccer before heading home to (you guessed it!) light some oil lanterns and do some reading.

an ode to "ohio"

Friday night involved running all over downtown seeing various bands for Midpoint Music Festival. We started off with Head and the Heart at Washington Park, and they had an AMAZING sound. I haven't listened to them too much, but I'm definitely going to be remedying that (and Damien Jurado speaks highly of them; I concur with his judgment). Our second show was at Taft Theater, a country-esque band playing covers of Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson. The culmination of the night was at the Blue Whisp Jazz Club: Damien Jurado! We squeezed into the front and had a spectacular view. Because it was a bar, much of the crowd in the back wouldn't stop talking. Jurado seemed particularly annoyed (but, then again, he always does), and when Andy yelled at the top of his lungs for everyone to shut their pie-hole, Damien told him it was okay, it was to be expected. He said that his tour had been comprised mostly of house shows in living rooms, which he preferred to the bar scene "because of that," he said, pointing to the people in the back. A few drunk girls pushed their way to the front and in the middle of a song kept reaching over the stage, trying to touch him. He stepped back and said, "I'm trying to play a song here," and then he reached out and touched them to get them to stop, and they freaked out and pushed back into the crowd and BOTH dropped their beer bottles, and the sound of them shattering filled the dim room. When the show was over he booked it out of there, grabbing his guitar and pushing through the throngs and out the back door, where Andy intercepted him and poured forth his love. Jurado seemed glad to leave the chaos of the bar (I don't blame him), but he seemed genuinely happy to see Andy politely thanking him for his time. As an ode to Jurado, here's his song "Ohio" (the Wisconsinite will appreciate the harmonica):

Out from the window across from the city

I have what's considered a good view.

Two blocks from the subway, three from the fountain

Where I walk to break in new shoes.

She stands on the sidewalk just waving at taxis

like horses in parades in passing.

I ask where she's headed, she tells me,

"Ohio, I've not seen my mother in ages.

It's been a long time, a real long time."

Out from my window, "How far is Ohio?"

She laughed and pointed out east.

She said, "I grew up there with my dear mother,

and I haven't seen her since thirteen.

You see, I was taken while she lay sleeping

by my father's hired men.

We moved to the city so far from my family.

I haven't been back there since.

It's been a long time, a real long time."

Out from my window please hear me Ohio

Your daughter wants to come home.

She longs to be with you, to hug you, to kiss you,

to never leave her alone.

And I've gotten to know her, to live with, to love her.

It's hard to see her leave.

She belongs to her mother and the state of Ohio,

I wish she belonged to me.

See you sometime, see you sometime...

NBC's "Revolution"

I'll be the first to admit that the dialogue is sub-par and the acting leaves much to be desired. If it weren't for the incredible post-apocalyptic backdrop, NBC's Revolution wouldn't have sucked me in the way it did. The show takes place fifteen years after a new technology sapped the planet of all electricity: miniscule nanobots numbering far beyond mathematical calculations suppress electrical fields, and these nanobots are so widespread that they fill peoples' lungs and cling to the air. Society had been reduced to living as humans did before the advent of electricity, and there are more than enough candles and oil lanterns to go around. The story revolves around the attempt of the Munroe Republic, one of the post-apocalyptic governments that arose following the collapse of electricity, in its attempts to restore power only for itself. The protagonists seek to restore power for EVERYONE so that the tables will be balanced. The series ends with the power indeed coming back on (or so it seems), and you learn that one of the main antagonists is actually a "patriot," i.e. a member of the fledgling United States in exile in Cuba. The last scene in Season One is the president of the United States flanked by massive men-of-war, seemingly bent on retaking what is rightfully his. I'm excited about Season Two, but since I don't have cable, I'll have to find other ways to watch it. For the meantime, my post-apocalyptic fix is coming through BBC's "Survivor" series. I've only seen the first episode but am more than excited for what's coming.

The "Revolution" Drinking Game. For those interested in watching "Revolution," my friends and I have come up with a drinking game that will definitely get you drunk by the end of any episode. The rules are simple: you take a shot every time (a) Miles Matheson talks about training someone, (b) Charlie Matheson doesn't change her facial expression for more than three seconds, and (c) the character Aaron complains about chafing.

the 41st week

Mandy & me chilling on our balcony

Monday. Tori and I opened together, and I served Pippin from Lord of the Rings a shot of espresso. I went to The Anchor before heading to the Loth House to see John, Brandy, Amos, Blake and Traci. Once the Bengals/Steelers game started, I headed home and spent the rest of my evening hanging out with Corey and Kevin.

Tuesday. Sarah called off sick again, so Chloe and I two-manned it until 11:30. Mandy did a spectacular job cleaning the apartment, really put me and Corey to shame. I fixed pork chops, mac & cheese, potatoes with gravy, and a side of garlic loaf for dinner and watched episodes of NBC's Revolution.

Wednesday. Eric and I opened, and after work I ran by Walk of Joy--a Christian nonprofit seeking to help the developmentally disabled acquire life skills for more independent living--to apply for a job. Sarah B. recommended me, so we'll see! I went to The Anchor and continued plowing--or, rather, plodding--through Michael Gorman's Cruciformity. It's simply phenomenal: I can ingest it only bits at a time, there's so much to ponder. Mandy started her new job at Lifespring today. I picked up Wendy's for dinner and watched some Revolution. I lit some candles and chilled out colonial-style before bed.

Thursday. Chloe and I opened, a solid shift. I ran by Meier's after work to get some oil lamps, and I spent the evening playing Birds of Steel, watching Revolution, and writing. Come dusk I lit candles and the oil lanterns. Perhaps it's because they have a "colonial" taste, but I've always liked oil lamps. They remind me of simpler times, when your main concerns were frontier raids by the Indians and representation (or lack thereof) in Parliament.

Friday. Eric and I opened, and I made $60 in tips. I headed to Ams' apartment after work, and we hung out for a while and then grabbed dinner at Red Robin with Mom and Dad. I went with the Royal Robin (as always) and their "Screaming Red Zombie," a mixed drink made with rum and orange juice. Flooding rainstorms swept through all evening, and I used weather.com to chart a path home from Ams' apartment between storms, since my engine has a tendency to flood when it rains. "She's not exactly a Prius." The best description of my car EVER.

The Last Day of Summer. I went to The Anchor to do some writing before meeting up with Andy: we went to the 1/2 Price Books blowout sale at the Sharonville Convention Center (I got some GREAT books on colonial America, and he got two Tom Robbins first editions) and then treated ourselves to a late lunch at Cracker-Barrel. I had their fried catfish paired with hush-puppies, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, dumplings, and loads of cornbread. (Might I add that I certainly noticed the restaurant's adoration of oil lanterns: they had them on every table!). Back at the apartment we watched Matchstick Men, and come nightfall I lit my oil lanterns and watched "Revolution" before falling asleep. I woke at 1:15 AM to a solid 2-hour conversation with the Wisconsinite. I didn't miss sleep for one bit of it.

The First Day of Autumn. I visited The Anchor (surprise, surprise) and did some writing for three hours. Mandy surprised me, swinging by the diner on her way home from a crazy night out in Covington, and she ordered a coffee and apple- and whipped-cream topped waffles. I headed downtown to do the food order before church, and I ended up stuck in traffic for twenty-five minutes because of all the chaos: roads were closed because of Oktoberfest, traffic was gridlocked on every street, most garages were full and those that weren't were $15-20 a car. So I winged the order and since there was no way I'd make it to U.C.C., I went to Amos' for a bit and then spent the evening back home hanging out with Ams, Mandy and Corey. I went to bed around 10:00 and woke around 11 to talk with the Wisconsinite, but I don't remember much of it 'cause I was half-asleep. I'm sure it was good though!

this, the first day of autumn

(because self-portraits aren't just for preteen girls)

The mornings and evenings are cold, and I’ve unraveled my “kickass autumn wardrobe” (Brandy Rae knows what I’m talking about), and I’ve even started wearing my cowboy boots! You can see on the left how undeniably awesome/awkward and rustic I look. Couple this with my new affinity for all-natural light come sundown, and I’m slowly on my way to being a frontiersman. The advent of autumn always brings this out of me: deep down, I think, I’d be far more at home in colonial New England than in 21st Century Cincinnati. I’d love to replace my car with a horse (they’re far more reliable, in my experience) and live off the land in a world absent electricity (note: the show “Revolution” on Netflix is all about this, and the story is provocative and phenomenal, though the acting and dialogue is subpar). 

The time has come to start looking for another place. Blake is moving in with Traci when our lease is up, Corey and Mandy are moving to Covington to live with John G., and I’ve been perusing studio apartments in northern Kentucky. Because my hours at Tazza Mia have been cut from 40-45 to 30-35, I’ve found myself in dire straits. It’s a matter of pride and self-sufficiency to not ask for help, even when I need it, and I’m blessed that my dad told me he’d cover the deposit and then take it back come the end of my lease; thus I’ll only need to save up enough for the first two months rent. Nevertheless, it’s stressful, and a hack at my pride: I know that these “financial straits” are in no way reflective of my value as a person, of my intelligence, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. I’m thankful for parents and a sister who understand and are willing to help me out, and at least Willy Wonka understands:

I’ve been applying like mad to various jobs: call centers, NPOs, anything offering decent pay and forty hours a week. Tazza Mia simply isn’t cutting it anymore, and though I love the people I work with and consider them dear friends, it’s simply not viable anymore. Our sales have plummeted with Panera Bread and Fusian opening next door; since most of our sales come from our salad bar, and since our salad bar was so popular because it was one of the only places in that part of downtown to get fresh and healthy food, Panera Bread and Fusian—offering healthy selections—have pulled a large chunk of our customer base away. Couple this with the fact that we don’t have the money to do any sort of marketing outside Facebook (and is that really marketing?), and we’ve got quite a problem on our hands. The “skeleton crews” of the old days look good now: things felt stretched thin when we had three people on the floor, and now that we only have two a lot of days, it’s all the more hectic. And of course there’s no room for upward movement (as ASM I’m as high as I want to go; Store Manager doesn’t interest me in the LEAST, and I told Brandon as much when he asked if I’d be interested in applying for the position when it was available), and there’s no chance of a raise, either. Poor Chloe quit a job with better pay and benefits to be part of our team, and I just couldn’t find the heart to tell her how stupid of a decision that was. *SIGH* She’ll find out soon enough.

Looking for better jobs—needing better jobs—only makes Grad School all the more pertinent. Or, at least, it seems more pertinent. My bachelor’s hasn’t done much for me, and I’m lucky to not be swimming in school debt. Is the point of Grad School, of acquiring more debt for a piece of paper that I can reference on another piece of paper when applying for jobs, worth the risk of just drowning in debt and being forced to work eighty hours a week in dead-end jobs just to stay afloat? There aren’t any easy answers. I’ve thought about getting my Master’s in something like business, accounting, or marketing; marketable fields with decent income. But I have to be honest: as I told my dad over a meal of pancakes and eggs, “I doubt I’ll have the motivation to go through two years of school if it isn’t something that interests me.” He said that’s only fair. When I contemplate Grad School, I’m constantly turning my head back towards Norwich University and their Master’s in American History. Andy thinks I’d be phenomenal in the field of history. He said he thinks I’m one of the smartest people he knows; a lot of historians can paint in broad strokes, but I have the uncanny ability not only to perceive the “big strokes” but to see how it all works together, how history is interlocked; I’m able to see the unfolding story, how all the details come together like gears in a machine to create a world. I bore Ams almost to death with my historical rants, but Corey and Andy like them. Just last week I gave a lecture on 18th century warfare: muzzle-loading smoothbore muskets, linear warfare, the dreaded bayonet charged. My eyes were afire and the customers looked at me as if I were crazy (it’s a regular look I get). Andy told me I’m a phenomenal writer, that I could hammer out books in no time flat. It’s true: in just the past three days, I’ve written thirty-forty pages on the events of April 19th, 1775. Dad knows I’d excel in such a degree, but he’s practical: though I’d certainly enjoy it, what job would I be able to get? And what about all the debt? Besides, what does a degree prove? Why dump 20k+ for an education you can receive for FREE with a good dose of self-discipline?

this, the last day of summer

This summer has been more than rough (really, all of 2013’s been kind of a whore; perhaps all those triskaidekaphobes are onto something?), but it hasn’t been without its high points. My friends and I, we’ve had lots of parties, we’ve shared some great memories, and I know I’ll look back on this summer with a certain fondness. That’s how life (and memories) work: we tend to remember ages past with a silver lining. Certainly there will be things that won’t be forgotten: too many people I’ve known have died, and those I love have had family members snatched from them untimely and with an unnerving cruelty. In these darker moments I remember an old paraphrase of St. Paul I heard a while ago: “Life is a bitch, but we are more than conquerors in Christ.” All too often we Christians, not least myself, forget that though we are saved, justified, redeemed; though we are promised a wonderful inheritance; though we have the presence of Christ and God’s own Spirit within us, we still live in a world caught between Easter and Consummation, a world characterized by the tension between God’s burgeoning kingdom and “this present evil age”. Death and misery continue to scar God’s good world, and when we’re surprised by tragedy, when we’re shocked by how God’s own people suffer, and when we cry aloud as to why this is happening, it’s good to remember “the times in which we live.” I’ve had to come back to that again and again.

I’ve watched as people I love—John, Corey, and Amanda Lynn—endure the tragic and unexpected deaths of family members. John lost his dad; Corey lost his mom; Amanda lost her brother. I want to think that this is “just a bad year” (to put it lightly), but something tells me things will just get worse as I get older. Ecclesiastes tells us that this is the nature of the world, and to expect anything else is to be an ignorant fool. Part of me wonders, however, how we can enjoy the gifts of the present except by temporarily blinding ourselves to the world around us.

I’m reading 2 Corinthians, and again and again St. Paul competes, with a good dose of sarcasm, with the false teachers trying to supplant his authority. I’m struck by how much awful  (“shit” in Greek; if Paul uses it in Phil 3.8, I think I can, too) he had to go through. There’s much ado about his devoted reverence, but it’s so easy to overlook how hard he had it. What can be deduced about him from his letters is that he was a passionate, devoted, and hurting man. It’s quite likely his wife divorced him at conversion, and Acts testifies to a prevalent loneliness. Is letters bear witness to him being tired and stretched-thin, often at the end of his rope. He’s known for all that he did, the high marks of his career (not least writing the majority of the New Testament), and the miraculous events around him, but the sufferings he endured, over & over, make it clear that his was no life to be envied. This strikes me because there is an assumption rampant within Christian circles that the more devoted to Christ we are, the more glorious and happy our lives will be. Yet St. Paul, who outranks all of us in measure of devotion, lived a life of pain, loneliness, betrayal and heartache sprinkled with miraculous deliverances here-and-there. And while it’s fun to see him delivered from jail, and encouraging to us who are suffering and praying for deliverance, let us not forget this:

Five times God did not spare Paul from forty lashes minus one.

Three times God did not spare Paul from being beaten. 

Once God did not spare him from being stoned. 

    (and not in the good way like you want) 

Three times God allowed him to be shipwrecked.

And constantly he was without food or water, void of shelter, cold and exposed, without any intervention by God. His life was marked by insults, persecution, hardships and calamities, and according to some, it would seem marked more by God’s absence than by his presence. Any thought that a life devoted to God brings about a rose-garden experience ignores not simply the fact that the scriptures tell us the opposite; it would also serve to lump anyone’s life similar to Paul’s as being indicative of a need for “more faith.”

And the truly sad thing is that regardless of how much I oppose this pie-in-the-sky, unicorns and lollipops idea that devotion to God makes one prosper, the fact that my own life has been met with subtle disappointments and enduring times of hardship and despair, of loneliness and sleepless nights, makes me question his love towards me.

Who are we to expect a better deal than Paul?

Who are we to expect our dreams and desires to be God's primary concern?

Why do we often assume increasing devotion to God will mean a "better" life?

   (I speak in earthly terms)

There are good reasons and bad reasons to be devoted to God. I’m devoted to him not because I expect him to make my life everything I want it to be. Though I certainly hope his hand in my life pans out in such a manner, I’m far too much of a realist to expect it. There’s just not evidence for that. I’m devoted to God because, in the end, he is God and I am not. He is the Creator and I’m the creation. I don’t belong to myself, I belong to him. We all do, and some of us acknowledge it and others deny it. As for me, regardless of how my life turns out, my stake and my loyalty is on him. Life may suck, but I know God is loving, that he looks upon me not as a capricious, vindictive, malevolent deity but as a Father who knows what’s best for his children and who doesn’t fill their heads with fantasies. God is quite honest about the nature of the world, and in that honesty there’s a promise: “It won’t always be this way.” A time is coming when Death and suffering, when loneliness and despair, when the corruption and decay of our world is dealt with fully and finally. I long for that day as every Christian does, and every untimely death, every strike of grief, is a testament to our current state-of-affairs; and the feeling that it isn’t right, that Death is cruel and unnatural, is furthermore a testament to the future: “It will not always be so.” I take hope in that.

Hitler on Wright & Piper

the 40th week

@ The Banks with P. Diddy

Monday. Chloe and I opened, and I spent the afternoon hanging out with Mandy, Corey, Ams and Kevin. I grabbed Subway for dinner and headed over to the Loth House early to hang out with John. Andy and Amos showed up, and we watched football. Corey and Kevin came over with their guitars and played on the back patio. Mandy and I hung out late into the night, and she bought me ice cream from UDF!

Tuesday. I slept in until 9:00 since I had the day off, and I got the lunch buffet at Dusmesh. They've changed owners, a whole new cast & crew, and the food's hit-or-miss, but today it was definitely Spot On. I went to The Anchor and did lots of writing, and I spent the evening hanging out with Mandy, Ams and Sarah C. Sarah works at a nonprofit Christian organization, and she said she'd put in a good word for me if I applied. I'd be an idiot not to.

Wednesday. I didn't go in until 11:45 to close with Chloe, so I went to The Anchor before work. Dewenter and I met up at his place--he's back from North Carolina and almost fell from a cliff 3x taller than the Great American skyscraper--and we headed to The Banks to grab dinner at the Yard House. He almost killed someone on our "shortcut" through Newport. I had the Moerlein Over the Rhine and a pepper crusted Gorgonzola burger. We walked around the Banks, exploring the fountains and parks, admiring it for what it's become over the years since college.

Thursday. Eric and I opened, and after an afternoon of playing Birds of Steel, I headed up 75 to Ams' place in Springdale. She treated me to Penn Station, and we watched episodes of "30 Rock."

Friday. Tibbles and I opened, a nice treat. When 600 closed, a bunch of us met at Rock Bottom for dinner: Sarah, Chloe, Amos, Eric and Tiffany. Celebrating Chloe's termination from her old job at Margaritaville in the Casino. I had two Summer Honey Ales and a pretzel burger. Amos and I spent the evening at his place playing Mario-Kart with John and Brandy. I came home to find Andy drunk on our sofa, much to my delight.

Saturday. I went to The Anchor to do some writing, and then Mandy and I went downtown to 600 Vine for coffee. She was almost clipped by a white limo humping the curb on 6th and Vine. We bought incense and filled with the living room with "Autumn Spice." Andy came over, and he and Mandy headed out to Northside, and since Dad was in town we met up at IHOP off Ridge Avenue and caught up on life. I ran to the Loth House for an evening drinking pumpkin ales and hanging out with good friends. I headed home for a bit and hung out with Mandy and her pal Andrew. Ams came over wanting to go to John & Brandy's for Lothfestapalooza (II), so we did. Amos made a fire using an Axe spray bottle and Andy threw a wicker table and a NERF gun in the fire. The black smoke was choking, and Traci was upset so she went inside. Here's a collage from the fire:

Sunday. I went to U.C.C. and spent the afternoon hanging out with Mandy. We listened to lots of music, and I watched Revolutionary War reenactments on YouTube. I spent the day doing lots of thinking about my life, adulthood in particular: "What does it mean to be an adult? What does it mean to be a man?" And not in the physiological sense of the terms. 

hamster on a piano (eating popcorn)

"My favorite thing on here is YouTube, and my favorite YouTube thing is animals, and favorite-est animal thing is Hamster on a Piano." - Ricky Gervais, "Derek"

NEVER FORGET

I can't shake the feeling that I'm supposed to remember something today.
It's like there's something important that I promised I'd never forget.
But for the life of me, I can't--Oh! Now I remember.

The Battle of Brandywine Creek: September 11, 1777.
I knew I was forgetting something. 

the 39th week

Labor Day. I had the day off work, spent it reading and writing. I'm working on a "monograph" of sorts on Lexington & Concord. Ams came over and we spent the evening watching Adventure Times.

Tuesday. Good news: Sarah's feeling better after two weeks out sick. Bad news: she's not yet on the schedule. Today was another understaffed experience, and both Eric and I are stressed to the max. Amos has been "fired" by Bob, but he'll still be with us for a while. I'm NOT looking forward to losing him; it'll be just me and Eric holding the store together at that point. Mandy and Corey returned from Indiana last night, and I spent much of the day hanging out with them plus Ams and Kevin. AND I got to hang out with Blake, which is a rarity. 

Wednesday. Chloe and I closed shop, and 5:30 Eric, Tiffany, the tiblets, Sarah, Brandon, Amos and I met up at Rock Bottom for beers and dinner. They tapped the Rocktoberfest, Luke was playing guitar by the beer, and Keith threw $150 worth of gift cards at us like you'd throw dollar bills at a stripper. We filtered out, and Sarah and I hung out with Brandon at his loft on Main, and then I headed to the Loth House for fun times with John and Brandy, Amos, Frank and Rebecca. Also, Sarah's back on the schedule. "NEVER underestimate your worth," I told her.

Thursday. Chloe and I opened. "The Dream Team." We were slow, so I was home by 1:00: Birds of Steel, writing, and a nap summed up my afternoon. I went over to the Loth House for a while to hang out with Amos, and we caught up on the fiasco in Syria. This is basically where it stands:

Friday. Ams came over and Mandy returned from Indiana. Both wanted to get super messed up, so they took shots of whipped vodka in the kitchen. Ams and I picked up Chinese, and Mandy got Chipotle. She dropped her burrito bowl in the street, and Ams tripped on our front steps and fell flat on her face as she proclaimed how she wants to eat like a fat kid. We chowed down, and by 7:30 both were passed out. Andy came over, and we went to The Happy Hollow and listened to Led Zeppelin and Josh Ritter on the jukebox, and a drunk guy kept trying to wedge into our conversations. When we got back Ams had retired to my bed. Andy and I listened to some more Josh Ritter, and when he was ready to go I escorted him to the front porch and said Bye, and when I went back upstairs Ams was on the sofa half-asleep and eyes glazed over, munching on cold crab rangoon. I bid her good night but she didn't hear me, and I retired to my own bed and fell asleep.

Saturday. Mandy and I ran downtown for coffee at 600 Vine, and a trip to the bank took forty minutes because of a 5k cutting straight through Norwood and down our street. Andy, Mandy and I spent the morning hanging out until Ams woke around noon. I headed over to the Loth House and spent the evening writing as John and Amos watched football. Carpal tunnel will set in soon enough. Writing is quite exhausting, and I went to bed drained by my creativity.

Sunday. I went to The Anchor to do some writing before working 9:30-Noon, hosting a birthday party at 600. I sped up to the Loth House when I clocked out, and John threw sausages and brauts on the grill. I met up with Ams back at my apartment, and she felt sick and threw up several times. We got dinner at Chipotle when she fell better, and when we got home Corey, Mandy, and Mandy's friend Chris were there drinking beers. We joined them in the fray for a bit. Ams left, and then Corey's car broke down. Also, I received some awfully shitty news from the Wisconsinite: one of her twin brothers was killed in a motorcycle accident. I stared at the message and felt my heart literally stop beating for a moment. My heart sank for her, and I wanted nothing more than to jump in my car and go be with her. But that's not feasible, and nor is it my place. Nevertheless, she's in my heart and prayers.

books I've been reading

While Almost a Miracle focuses on the military campaigns of the American Revolution (note that the "American Revolution" doesn't technically refer to the War of American Independence that came as a result of the American Revolution), A Leap in the Dark examines the political atmosphere and the evolution of independence through to the creation of the American republic through the Articles of Confederation and on to the federalists' victory with the Constitution of the United States of America. The latter half of the book focuses on the first presidencies, notably those of George Washington and John Adams, and culminates with the volcanic election of Thomas Jefferson to the White House. All in all a good read, though the details Ferling gives can be a little overwhelming at times (even for a colonial nutjob such as myself). If you're looking for a great book on the American Revolution that doesn't become swept up in the War of American Independence (the war itself is encompassed in a mere two chapters), then this is the book for you (though I doubt anyone reading this blog actually cares enough to read this book, nor enough to even read this post!). 

the 38th week

Monday. This week will be hell: we're more understaffed than ever, and stress is at a breaking point. "If I don't quit by the end of the week, then there is indeed a God!" Mandy and I hung out for a while after work, and then I headed to Springdale to help Ams and Lane move into their new apartment. It's pretty nice and quaint. We finished around 9:00, and after an intermission of whiskey and OJ at the Happy Hollow with Corey, Mandy and Kevin, Mom and Dad brought us two new sofas for the living room. All the moving was done by 11:30, and I passed out in no time.

Tuesday. Brandon showed me his new place after work. It's on Main, right on the strip. Ams, Mandy and I got Fusian for dinner (yellowtail roll!) and then we went across the street for drinks at Rock Bottom: Long Island iced teas, bourbon lemonades, and oatmeal stouts. Amos joined us, in quite a volatile mood: he and Bob are in a "fighting match" at the moment. It can't end well. We reconvened at the Loth House for a bit, and I wrapped up my evening with The Elegant Universe. Brandon recommended it: it's all about string theory, and very provocative.

Wednesday. I worked Food Prep and was glad to be home afterwards. I spent the afternoon playing Birds of Steel, and then I headed over to the Loth House to hang out with John and Brandy. Corey and Mandy joined us, and I started feeling sick so I left early.

Thursday. I opened and closed, hung out with Mandy and Ams, and went over to the Loth House. Clover and I wrestled and she got QUITE frisky. Back on Park Avenue, Andy came over and we watched a hilarious cartoon called "Adventure Times."

Friday. I opened and was done with work by 1:00 and thankful for a three-day weekend. Mandy, Ams and I hung out for most of the evening. The Tomeos and I were going to get drinks downtown, but that fell through, so I spent the evening watching Lincoln and writing. 

Saturday. I went to The Anchor to do some writing before heading north to see Dylan one last time before he jets to Washington, D.C. this coming Wednesday. Ams joined us for lunch at Gyro Palace and Westmalle beers on the front porch. We played Mario-Kart for Old Times' sake (I was Baby Bowser, of course, and he was toad). We hugged and parted ways, and a HUGE storm rolled through when I got back to Cincinnati. The wind, the rain, the thunder and lightning, the sirens and flooding: practically a microcosm of Katrina. Ams came over and we spent the rainy night watching Aqua-Teen Hunger Force: a solid way to end the month of August.

Sunday. No U.C.C. today: I couldn't afford the gas. Ams couldn't sleep so she came over bearing McDonald's breakfast and orange juice since she knew (a) I'm broke and (b) I'm always down for breakfast burritos and OJ. We watched Saved! and I finished A Leap into the Dark about the creation of the American republic. Pretty good with LOTS of detail. A political history more than anything else. Around 5:30 we headed to Corey's dad's place in Bright for a grill-out: me and Ams, Corey and Mandy, Andy, T.J., Kevin, and some others. We took shots and drank Angry Orchard cider. When T.J. arrived he took me on a ride through the Indiana countryside on the back of his 1977 motorcycle. The night was filled with laughter and antics and memorable moments.