Saturday, April 30, 2005
Fear not: body and soul are still one.
I just needed time to get used to the upped amount of meds. Against Dr E.'s advice, I've continued taking the full amount in the morning instead of splitting the dose to half in the morning and the remainder at night. I didn't rebel against the advice out of some knee-jerk reaction or I-think-I-know-better attitude, but more out of concern of forgetting to take the second half. Some nights I work, others I don't, not a real regularity of schedule. Plus I can get distracted by shiny--- oooh, look! Headlights moving across the wall, anyway, what was I saying?
So, I must peak on the meds somewhere in the middle of the afternoon because come dusk, I'm yawning like an English major in an Economics class (or maybe that's just me). And the touches of nausea--blecch. When I finally make it home, I just crash the fuck out. I fight to stay awake, but to no avail. It has gotten better the past couple of days though.
Also, I'm trying to get some things done around the old apartment. I'm trying to fix up my section of the Corner Quad in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there...I mean, in hopes of starting to invite people over. I'm entertaining the idea of entertaining. Maybe a couple of co-workers or a few friends, maybe even at the same time for drinks! One co-worker has been asking when I'm having her and hers over for drinks this last week, and it got me thinking that I really should. I'm just not 100% digging on the way the place looks as of right now.
On top of cleaning and rearranging, I'm stressing on this change of venues for my meds and therapy. Being without Health Insurance, I must go where the system pushes/allows me. I've set up an Intake Interview May 23rd at one of these places which is scary enough, but the place is also in a skeevey area (above a liquor store--both sad and convenient) and the interview takes place one week after my last Primary meeting. The lady on the phone said there is a waiting list of like 3-6 weeks or something after the interview until treatment can start. I think. Just the idea of running out of meds scares the shit out of me. I do not want to go back to the situation I was in for the last two years. She said to show up early to fill out paperwork to get a Medical Card which I am sure I won't qualify for since I work.
Oh well, we'll see.
Other than that, I've been getting back into my Playstation2; playing Killzone and NCAA Football 2005 (Ohio State Buckeyes Rule!) in the afternoons of my days off. And trying to catch up on my neglected New Yorkers and trying to (finally) read The Prince, but slow going on both counts.
This was a nice thing to wake up and discover today (see last paragraph). Thank you, again, Young Manhattanite.
Okay Lilly is waving at me, telling me it's time for bed, and Pertney is already asleep. Talk to you all later.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Pass (on) the Camel Lights; as of 8:26 p.m. tonight, I've lived smoke free for two years. That's TWO YEARS with out a Camel Light or a parliament or a Basic Light or a Dunhill. Wow, and smoking was such a part of me, an extension of my essence. My stick figure self-doodles always included backwards O.U. cap, glasses, goofy grin, and a lit cigarette sticking out the side of my mouth, or held in stick figure fingers. A pack-a-day man was I. Pack and a half if the bar scene played out fun that night, or my friends were low. Always had a spare for a friend or newly met cutie. Huddled outside smokefree parties on a deck, balcony, or back alley, making small talk with other smokers around the keg. A sense of community, an ice breaker.
Here's me talking about it at my year and a half anniversary.
Smoke 'em if you got 'em *sigh*
My friend Harsh is going to NYC on Wednesday. Color me jealous. I''d love to have drinks at The Spring Lounge, The Gonk, and somewhere in the LES. Washington Park in early summer sounds fun. A kiss at 9:33 p.m. on top of the Empire State Building. Holding hands in at The Guggenheim. Sigh. Someday, right? Someday.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Saturday comes and you hit the snooze button like fifteen times, get up, drink coffee and get ready. The drive to work is dreamlike as the coffee on an empty stomach feels like it reactivated the cold medicine you drank last night on an empty stomach and you're stoned again. Work drifts by in a dream and all these faces and questions (questions you've answered a thousand times) zoom in and out at you as if in a fog seen through an erratic and out of control camera lens. And a couple of your co-workers seem extra nice and you almost miss one or two of them even as they're standing a foot in front of you talking with you, but everyone appears as though you are seeing them out of the corner of your eye. You feel mellow and focused, but blurry and as if there is a warm wet wool blanket wrapped around your mind, you feel nostalgic for things that have never happened and you want to hug one of your co-workers becuase you love the way her blonde hair plays of her black glasses, but that would be weird because you barely know her and she lives with her boyfriend, so you don't. And you're working hard, ringing many things up, selling, sales pitch, information giver, helping co-workers wrap gift boxes, but it feels like you've only helped like three customers the whole time you've been here (11:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m.), but no one seems to notice, so that's cool. And your thinking you would love to go back to the breakroom and eat all the semi-frozen hazelnut mousse S.R. made/brought in today, but that would be so selfish and pig-face, so you don't.
Then Harshly-Yah! shows up from her niece's B-day party, its 2:30 p.m., and you suddenly feel really weird, odd, out of place, self-conscious about how out of it you've felt all day, so you chat, wringing your hands nervously, then take off. The rest of the afternoon you sleep (again) on the too small couch, Lilly curled up at your butt barking meows occasionally when you pet her in a half-awake daze. You watch TV, but can't recall what now, and check your email, reply to a couple of friends, but blow off the rest because you just can't think clearly anymore tonight and really nothing is happening that'd interest them. And you go to bed.
Sunday comes around and you feel much clearer. You get to work ten minutes early, before the manager shows up to unlock the door. And work is full of semi-crazed customers and you hang in Gourmet selling things you know little or nothing about, and you can't find three things and have to ask the department manager each time, but she's pretty cool so it's not a big deal. You sell like $2000 worth of shit, most of it a table and chairs set, so that makes for a cool day, and suddenly it's time to go/clean up and you slice your own finger cutting through the plastic on the Extras Set of 4 Dinner Forks, mutter "shit" and wrap your finger in tissue paper, looks like toilet paper on a chin, blood seeps through in tiny bright dots, life flows out tastes like copper. And you're saying good-bye to everyone and in the car driving home. Lilly is yelling at you, so you play with her and her favorite shoelace on the green living room rug and she me-ows meee-ows at you and swats the string and chews on it when she snags it out of your hand. And you doze off (again and again) on the too small couch watching TV, then check your email, but reply to no one. And now Lilly is reminding you that you have to work tomorrow and you need to go to bed.
So you do.
Friday, April 22, 2005
I am riding the crest of clarity, then falling into the trough of Zombism. I can breathe clearly now, could inhale every single Marching Bolivian right now, if I were so inclined (um, but I'm not). And the aches? They all oozed away as I dozed off at the beginning of Dateline, but awoke in time for Third Watch. Could Sgt. Cruz be hotter? Sad to see that show go away.
Time for beddy-bye.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
And, though another friend’s wise words echo in my head, “Confidence is sexy, arrogance is not,” I have to say, let the selectiveness begin! (click link to see within context on My Life As I Know It)
It is rare that the word "wise" is attached to something I've said, so I feel the need to advertise this sentence as much as humanly possible! Thanks, Harshly-Yah!.
She thought it all a crock: "If I stare at my bathroom tiles long enough, I can see an image of Jack Nicholson with those black shades on!"
But, she says, she didn't grow up all that religious. The closest she ever got to Religion was when she lived across the street from a Catholic Church. "I'll probably go to Hell, and my kids, too."
"No, "I said, "as long as you're nice and a decent human being, I think God'll let you in, maybe sit you in the back by the kitchen or something."
"Yeah, and don't litter. Be nice and don't litter, that's what I tell my kids."
I laughed. "The 11th Commandment: Thou shall not litter."
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Showed up at 12:26 p.m.
Told a couple of co-workers that my day started out exactly like a joke: "So there a Mexican, a Black guy, and a White guy all changing their tires within a block of each other..." I couldn't figure out a punch line though (post one in the comments section if you can). But that truly is how my day started. One my east side, a few car lengths down, a Black neighbor changed his tire, and about a block to the west of me, a Mexican guy changed his tire. Bad luck for tires last night in my neighborhood of Broken Glass and Dog Poo. It was like the U.N. of World Tire Repair this morning.
Anyway, so after work I rushed to the Firestone on Lincoln Avenue because when I called there this morning, some worker said he could change my tires if I got there before 6:30 p.m. No such luck. Stopped taking customers. Referred me to a Pep Boys out on Touhy, west of highway. so I limped my car there.
$204 later I had some new tires. Yay! Oh, the $4 was actually for some Kitty Treats from the Petco next door for Lilly. I felt like a real badass in my Little Red Zipper, sporting my shiny new tires, challenging ever pothole and bump. Grrrrowl!
The Ferrets at Petco were cracking me up. The three ferrets in the glassed area were all springy and leaping on each other in a WWF Grand Royal Cage Match. Boing-boing-boing. Adorable, furry guys, like a squirrel meets a cat meets an otter by way of a hamster...hee hee hee...me want.
I work the day shift today. The day shift starts at 10:00 a.m. As you can see from the time this is posted, I am (at the minimim) going to be an hour late. Why? Why am I not getting in my car and rushing to work? Because my tire is flat! Good-fricking-morning.
I called work, said I'll be a little late, and then attempted to struggle with the lug nuts for about twenty minutes; they are corroded on past my feeble strength, even after spraying them with oil. Called AAA, and they gave me a window of now to 11:53 a.m. And since they don't supply new tires or new donuts (my spare is looking like shit), I will, more than likely, need to be towed to a tire dealer to buy a new one (or four + spare). I swear, whenever things start looking even, the car breaks down or gets wrecked or needs a new exhaust system.
So here I sit.
I'll probably get to work just in time to leave.
The irony of the situation is yesterday while at work, someone from the night shift called and asked if I could cover their shift. In other words work the whole day because they couldn't come in. I said I'd be willing, but had to ask the Boss since the extra hours would put me in overtime (I picked up a couple of hours on Satuday to cover A.K.'s temp absence). Of course Frantic said no. Now the extra Saturday hours will just (barely) allow me to break even for the week.
"Man makes plans, God laughs."
Well, at least we got a company-wide raise of sorts because The Leader wanted to be more competetive with other companies wages (um, still a little ways to go, Gordo, like maybe full time associates with some health benefits, mmm-kay?). Full timers got a buck, part timers fiddy-cents. Yay, my base pay is finally higher than minimium wage: whoo-hooo! Filthy Lucre! Slap my ass, and call me Trump-daddy!
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Good fun and witty cuties! Enjoy.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Our last meeting is planned for May 19th. I have to figure out how to switch offices and not create a gap between meds (which Dr. E. and I increased today also after she reprimanded me for the booze). I have to go through another intake with North-Rodgers MHC. Not looking forward to this, though I might be able to walk to the new MHC. I'm sad about leaving current Primary and office. I think the new one is located in an nasty area, I still need to check out the place.
My meds will run out one week before next Dr. E. meeting. I must schedule time for Nurse D. to make me a goodie bag. Apparently, my old brand (Paxil CR) is off the market, not just ran out for C4, but the factory needed to temporarily close down or something.
We talked about when I leave geographic area from people, I just cut them off, lose contact, lose touch with them. Jobs, friends from high school and college, etc. She said she just had this exact conversation with a friend of hers (here in Chicago, who is cute!). She told me what her friend said and it was practically verbatim what I felt. That it's hard for her to keep contact, safer, easier to just disappear. Who wants to hear about how crappy your life is going? Her friend is in therapy also. I asked if her and I had the same last name: siblings separated at birth. My Primary will let me know if her friend has any epiphanies.
Off to work, groggily, again.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
(1997 Edition, 3rd Place).
I drop you off at Lawrence and Pulaski
among the Korean shops, corner cleaners
Mayfield's food and liquor
and the fantasy adult bar
And the car reeks of smoke and coffee
as parking lot dust blows through the cracked window
the sun glares into my eyes
and my hangover pulses harder
And I'm startled by the tinkle of a rolling forty
the crinkle of a garbage bag
and the blast of a Toyota all at once
And everyone's trying to get somewhere
three small Asian boys running for the light
that bag lady pulling her cart into the alley
the bus driver bearing down on a slow Cadillac
But I just want to sit here a little while and smoke
watch you cross Pulaski with that heel 'n' toe walk
see the wind catch up your blazer and flip your hair back
and breathe in the exhaust the dust the sun the smoke the you
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
(Spring 1994 Edition, Volume 26, Number 2)
The Backroads Page
[Note, this article came out after THIS, but before this THIS, and (YO! What the...?) before THIS]
For those who believe extraterrestrial creatures only land in the backwoods of Canada or the deserts of the western United States, think again. Strange things visit Southeast Ohio's own backyard.
Point Pleasant, West Virginia, played a part in the UFO craze that swept through the 1960s and early 1970s by hosting a multitude of UFO sightings and one supernatural creature dubbed "Mothman."
The year of fear began on November 15, 1966 in Mason County, West Virginia.
Two couples, Roger and Linda Scarberry and Steve and Mary Mallette, driving through the abandoned TNT area (now called McClintic Wildlife Sanctuary), panicked when a bird-like creature suddenly loomed ahead. They gunned the car onto Route 62 only to find the "bird" keeping pace with their 100 m.p.h. flight, as well as hovering menacingly ahead.
Each person agreed on the eerie description: man-shaped, grayish, ten-foot wingspan, about six feet tall with glowing red eyes two inches in diameter.
"Believe me, if you ever saw it, you'd be a believer," Roger Scarberry told The Athens Messenger.
Mary Hyre, a reporter for the Point Pleasant Register and The Athens Messenger, sent the story to the AP wire. That evening, "bird" turned into "Mothman," apparently changed by an anonymous copy editor, a spin-off from the Batman comic character.
Skeptics think Mothman is a huge Sandhill crane, a tall bird with fierce red eyes normally found in Florida and Mississippi, which strikes fear into the uninitiated with its wide wingspan. Mothman witnesses refuse to believe a large bird fooled them. Linda Scarberry told Hyre it "was no bird we saw out there. It was a huge, man-like thing. There is no resemblance to it and a crane...his legs looked as if you had put two horseshoes together" and it made a whirring sound like a tape recorder.
Soon after the incident, reports flooded Hyre. More than 100 adults saw the Mothman between 1966 and 1967. Both the description and accompanying fear remained identical throughout the reports.
UFO and Mothman sightings became so common in Mason County, people set their clocks by them. Every Wednesday between 10 and 10:15 p.m., strange, red lights rose out of the TNT area and surrounding ridges. A space invasion?
Then, in late November, 1966, Mothman or "The Mason Monster" made its daytime debut. At 7:15 a.m., Tom Ury of Clarksburg spotted it on Route 62 about eight miles north of Point Pleasant. The Mothman rose "up like a helicopter" from a nearby field.
"I never saw anything like it." Ury said. "I was so frightened I just couldn't go to work today. This thing had a wingspan every bit of 10 feet. It could be a bird, but I surely never saw one like it."
The creature glided along with the car at 70 m.p.h., then flew toward the Ohio River near the TNT area.
Besides Hrye, someone else was keeping a close eye out for the Mothman in the Point Pleasant area. John Keel, a New York writer who published The Mothman Prophesies in 1975, documented the entire year.
On one midnight drive through the TNT area, Keel came across what he calls the "Zone of Fear." On a certain patch of road, he experienced an unexplainable wave of panic. Fighting the urge to flee, Keel returned to the patch. Again, fear enveloped him. He got out of the car and walked through the zone, again experiencing the feeling. He retraced his steps quickly, jumped in his car, and left the TNT area.
The next morning, he returned and found no power lines or anything to send off that kind of energy; he concluded that the area was an ultrasonic zone of fear.
According to Keel, some witnesses left a Mothman or UFO sighting greatly affected. A few experienced nervous breakdowns, miscarriages, committed suicide, or, like Linda and Roger Scarberry, divorced before the 10th anniversary of their sighting. Linda told Keel she blamed the divorce on Mothman because "Roger's personality just completely changed because of it. He was never the same person after that. He just didn't care what he did from that point on."
Around mid-November 1967, Hyre had recurring dreams of people drowning in cold black water with packages floating on the surface. Also, witnesses told Keel a nationwide power blackout would occur on December 15, 1967, when President Lyndon B. Johnson lit the Christmas tree in Washington D.C. Fear held the city.
On December 15, 1967, Keel watched the president flip the switch. No power blackout occurred. Unfortunately at 5:04 p.m., the Silver Bridge collapsed into the Ohio River, killing 46 people.
Mrs Jackie Lilly, who lived two miles north of the bridge, saw 13 strange red lights rise from the TNT area and head south toward the bridge. That was the last reported sighting. Mothman has left the area.
Will he return?
Keep watch, Point Pleasant, keep watch.
Monday, April 11, 2005
If a male says "I get Stuff Magazine for the articles," he is totally lying. Whereas, the same answer for Playboy can actually be believable (honestly). The only thing redeemable and worthy about this mag IS the babes. Of the two issues that have appeared (as if by horny Elven Magic) in my mailbox, both are graced by blondes on the front cover. Eh. Blondes aren't my favorite, but, hey, I'll take 'em.
The jokes are not only immature, but mostly get the "what?" reaction. There is only one cheat code in the video game section. The informative articles tell you nothing you didn't already know: food aphrodisiac don't exist!!! Shocking!!! The layout is cartoon-ish and annoyingly heavy on the color pink (subliminally soft-core?). Hell, even the only good part, the babe's pictorial spread is kind of boring; the saving grace is the lack of "staple belly."
So, again, Thank You random stranger for the year of buxom blondes and bodacious booty. How about Exotic Spank in March 2006?
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Thursday, April 07, 2005
What the Hell just happened?
I went to my Primary today. I enough meds to get me through until I see Dr. E. I started really open up at some point halfway through the meeting. Something about pointlessness, or about how I know what I need to do, but stop myself. Or something, I can't remember now.
And she apologizes for changing the subject. She needs to grab the nurse before she goes to lunch and get my meds. And she needed to discuss the change that's coming up. See, she graduates in June, so we'll soon stop seeing each other. She needs my address to find which clinic is in my new area, and if they have a waiting list. May 26th is our last meeting. We need start finishing up any unresolved issues or discuss my feelings on that. I think that's what we need to do, I sort of started to fade at that point.
I went numb.
This felt like a Break-up. I was getting Dumped again. I recognized that special sadness one feels after getting dumped. "I think we should see other people." Lump in throat, heavy chest, thoughts sluggish. It takes great effort to speak.
It hits me: I'm Crushing on my Primary. Text-fucking-book. I'm not in love, but, damn, I don't want to stop seeing her. She's hot, smart, funny, and close to my age.
I remember the first thing I thought when she first opened the door to the lobby and called my name: "Oh Crap. She's Hot." I can't talk to women if I'm attracted to them. "Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it." And here I am talking to one, sometimes accidentally flirting. Fucking typical. Wrong person, wrong place and/or wrong time.
I'm dazed all night at work. Memories of the last time I felt this way running through my mind. I spend the evening nodding, even more hollowly, at strangers who are all stressed out because we only sell 9 oz. Juice glasses, not 8 oz. Juice glasses.
Yes, I say, you can drink milk out of a Juice glass, it's okay, that's fine. I close my burning, wet eyes tight and try to breathe.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Location: street corner directly outside my window.
Unless noted, all dialogue is shouted at top of lungs (and some).
Woman: "Fuck you, I ain't no whore!"
Man: "I ain't said that."
Woman: "I ain't playing that way!"
Man: "She told you she was my female friend, I ain't got no female friends."
Woman: "I can fuck anyone I want to, but I be fucking you because I want to BE WITH YOU!"
Man: "mummble, baby, mummble."
Woman has now walked about a half block away, man still leaning on fence outside my bedroom window. Her voice still booms through my window, "I just played you like you was playing her! I played you like you played her! Who's the Playa now, bitch? I fuck anyone I want to, but... go on, go on down the block to her!"
Man ask driver of car stopped at stop sign if they have a light. Nope.
Woman, now all the way down block rounding corner, shouts something unintelligible (still sounding as if she's right in my room, what? She have a Bull Horn surgically implanted in her chest?).
Man schlumps on down the block, unlit cigarette between his lips, hands in pants pockets, and North Carolina jacket sliding off shoulder.
And add on $50 if they're in an SUV. Or a White Van (Okay, just my wishful thinking).
Many SUV drivers can't handle their own vehicle or think they're invincible and own the road anyway, but add in the distraction of a cell phone and Death On The Road. Muthafukas cutting me off way too often as it is. Where do they learn to drive? Me-me-me World?
I hope this thing passes, and gets enforced.
White Vans? I just hate White Vans. I am a victim of the White Van Conspiracy. Them and the SUVs have tagged-team me everyday since 1995: cutting me off, driving too slow, double parking, blocking the road, faulty car alarms going off at 4 a.m., swerving into my lane, running red lights, obstructing my view; anything to piss me off or make me late for work.
You know what I'm talking about. Who's more likely make a left hand turn from the far right lane? That's right! A fucking White Van. Driving 25 in a 40, dropping bits of rust? A White Van. Evil, Vile Vehicles.
Um, yeah, so don't talk and ride.
Pertney just looks down from his basket disapprovingly. Paw pointed at the clock as, funny enough, Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb starts playing at this exact moment on Launchcast. The shitty Vodka Gimlet I've made burns slightly as it goes down, yet I'd love to pour another. I've got a full tray of Ice Cubes and am not afraid to use it.
Lilly struts by, shaking her head. I vacuumed the rugs, but forgot to clean her litterbox: I'm a horrible daddy. I'm the Mrs. Dorothy Parker eating raw bacon, drunk, and she is Woodrow piddling on the floor (not really, Lilly never goes Number One or Two on the floor, she's a good kitty...just the occasional self-induced vomit once every 3 years). She's mad and tired, and just wants call it a day and sleep.
"Do you plan to type on that thing all night, Mac? Come to freakin' bed!" Hair slightly raised, she heads toward the bedroom.
"In a minute, dear, in a minute." The Ice Cubes haven't completely melted, and there's a good song on. "Just one more minute."
This tape started it all. Sometime in 1988, Jason R., dressed in a ripped T-shirt and black trench coat, handed me this tape. "Check this out." I looked at the cover, standing there in the middle of the high school cafeteria, and I KNEW. By the light of the burning police cars and the gothic script, I could see a world to which I ALMOST belonged. I've been searching for the Fresh Fruit ever since that day.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
*sigh* I could cry.
So far: Minor Threat, Bob Marley, Agent Orange, Chemical Brothers, Fear, Peter Tosh, X-Ray Spex, Jimmy Cliff, and The Dead Kennedys. Hee hee hee, I wonder who's next? I am wet with anticipation...drrrrroooool.
It may even be an 85% answer to my earlier plea for music help.
My upstairs, across the hall neighbors are moving out as I type. This brings the Corner Quad in my building to two empty, two full. Anyone looking for a nice, sunny one bedroom? I'm a quiet neighbor. Lilly, on the otherhand, can get a little loud now and again.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
I also remembered I wanted to cut my hair today, but didn't.
Friday, April 01, 2005
For how much longer can I howl into this wind?
For how much longer
Can I cry like this?
A thousand wasted hours a day
Just to feel my heart for a second
A thousand hours just thrown away
Just to feel my heart for a second
For how much longer can I howl into this wind?