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."