I was relieved to hear on NPR that poor lady in Florida finally came to the end of her suffering.

---

I saw a bumper sticker today that read,

"The Big Bang Theory: God spoke and BANG, it happened!"

This is why I can't stand certain Christians. They go through life as if with their fingers in their ears shouting "lalalalalala! I can't hear you! lalalalalala!"

Near perfect day

Busy day today. Started by having my initial intake appointment with a counselor. Our county has this thing where you can get mental health appointments at a reduced rate depending on what you make. It was very pleasant, I must say.

Then I took Caro to school. She had two classes today, so I bummed around campus while she was there, and we had lunch at the cafeteria between. I got two and a half pages of sketches in. Today was the first nice day of the year. Temp in the 70's, no humidity, nice warm breeze... simply heavenly. Lots of people sunning themselves in the courtyard between classes, so I had models a-plenty to scratch out quick drawings of.

Being around all those people made me realize something. I love humanity. I am so in love with people in general, I just want to do like that guy in the famous WWII homecoming picture and grab some random person and just give them a bear hug and big sloppy kiss. (no, I'm not actually going to do that) I just feel sometimes that I could burst like a balloon with affection for my fellow humans. You ever get that feeling?

I did force myself to do something, though. I made myself stop sketching people as they sat there snoozing, reading, or spacing out. I decided to shuffle off my role as the outside observer, so I put my sketchbook down, leaned back, and joined the beautiful human tableau on this gorgeous day. For the first time in a very long time, I didn't feel out of place at all.

It was very pleasant, I must say.

No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. Several factors are lending to this posting dry spell. For starters, things in my world are changing very drastically causing me to sink into myself and not express or project. It's not a bad thing. In fact I've been in a terrific mood lately. I've just cocooned right now, and it may be some time before I emerge, but rest assured I'm shivering with antici...


...pation in my little protective shell. No, not a shell, but a spring bud waiting for the right moment to bloom. Yeah.

Patience.

Patience.

Patience.

And wouldn't you know, but just as I picked up a new reader whose blog is one of the freshest, (weirdest), and truly fun to read, I am smacked with this introversion causing one MASSIVE case of I-don't-wanna-write-anything-today.

It's not that I haven't anything to write, there's actually a bazillion things I want to say right now. It just isn't the right time to say them. Like the distant rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, change is coming...

---

Another thing, since my promotion to trainer (and the spring season kicking into high gear)I have been having back-to-back training classes at work leaving me absolutely psychologically spent by the end of the day, and with just enough mental fortitude left to manage a blank stare at whatever program is on the idiot box, regardless of whether I like it or not. This is not conducive to witty discourse.

---

One of my trainees today said that I was a natural administrator, and that I had a remarkable amount of patience while explaining things so that everybody can understand what I'm teaching. I was taken aback and quite flattered.

---

My wife had her friend over the other day and I mentioned that I was at Dunaway's on St. Patrick's night. She said her friend was there too. I made mention about being Mr. Popular due to my camera and she said "Holy shit, that was you?" "Umm...yeah. That was me." "[friend's name] told me there was some drunk jackass there taking pictures!"

---

Otherwise, socially I think I'm regressing. Of course I say this as I prepare for a friday evening of cavorting with friends from work at Elbo's, a club down in Dayton. I dunno, when all that I call reality is in a state of flux, the act of changing is so easy to mistake for vacuous stagnation rather than positive forward motion. Why is that? Is it simply the unfamiliar, and thus difficult to recognize, territory?

Patience.

Patience.

Patience.

All will pan out in due time. Please bear with me. Of course, if there are any good photos on next payday's (thursday) photo pick up / drop off, I'll post them immediately. There should be, it's one of my rolls from St. Paddy's Day. Teehee!

Kizzy

Kizzy
Originally uploaded by groverflanagan.

Christmas morning '04. Mom & Chuck's cat, Kizzy.

Some of the "Fam"

Some of the "Fam"
Originally uploaded by groverflanagan.

Christmas morning '04. From left to right: Top row - Grandma, Dad, Grandpa. Bottom row - sister-in-law Celeste and nephew Trent, brother Dave and niece Lauren.

(Oh, and I'm in there somewhere as well)

Honda, Hiking, and the Occasional Skunk

Walked home from work today. Really it's only a 7 minute drive, so at a steady march (as opposed to a casual stroll) it only took just under an hour. No biggie. The way home takes me past the Honda parts warehouse where I used to work, so I waved hi to Angela as I hiked past. She works weird hours so I know she was in there.

One thing I noticed on this walk is that people are nasty bastards. Honestly. Take a several mile long walk past some non-residential areas and it's amazing the beer bottles and cans strewn all over the goddamn place. You never notice all this crap while going by at 30 miles per hour or faster, except maybe for the larger white McDonald's cups. Here on McKaig Ave, after it heads out of the city, there are twice as many alcoholic beverage containers than there are pop cans and bottles. (and it's not even good beer!) Now I understand why that Native American dude from that 70's commercial was crying. Our highways and byways have become landfills. It's fucking disgusting!

And roadkill really smells bad. Especially skunks. Almost lost my lunch.

Stop!

Ok, whenever people on tv or in movies read telegrams, whyyyyy do they always say "stop" outloud after every line? When I read a sentence, I don't say "period" at the end.

Why?

For the love of God, WHY???

heart

heart
Originally uploaded by groverflanagan.

Ornament on the key rack in my kitchen.

Kiss Me, I'm Irish!

Dude! St. Patrick's Day (night?) rocked. I haven't had that much fun in a verrrry long time. Hell, I don't think I've ever had that much fun. I talked to so many people... it was a veritable orgy of communication. I'm just so stupidly happy about it.

Started the night at O'Brian's with the parental units. Crowd there was mostly mature with a few young'uns sitting at the bar. Earlier in the day I emailed Angela inviting her to drop by after she got off work. She showed up for a little while and I bought her a beer or two. We had a long overdue conversation catching up on all the events since our last meeting. Chat #1! She had to go to a friend's house way the hell over in Springfield, so she took off.

Shortly after I got there, I recognized a girl I went to high school with at the table next to us. Actually, I had bumped into her just a few days ago, but we couldn't talk. It was Sunday around lunch, actually, and she was waiting tables at CJ's. The place was packed to the gills with the church crowd and she couldn't talk. Anyhow, after Angela left, (and my high school acquaintance's name is Angie. how funny is that?) She came over and introduced herself again which turned into a good hour-long conversation telling each other what we've been doing since 1996. Is there anything better than mutual beer-buzz verbal intercourse? Lots of Romy and Michelle-style "Really? Me too!" going on. Chat #2!! We talked so long over the din that I got quite hoarse. Her people left and so did she. Mom bought me one last Harp Lager and then we left.

I hear things are hopping over at D's, so I cruise there. Ho-Lee-Shit! It was just like in the movies! Teehee! Pounding music, drunk 20-somethings stumbling around, everyone packed like sardines. I grinned ear to ear. :-) Let me tell you something... if you want to be popular at social gatherings such as this college-style beer bash, wear a nice camera around your neck. Suddenly, everybody wants their picture taken. I meander back and forth between the bar and the tent erected out back, all the while deflecting slurred (and quite rude) women who want me to buy them drinks, snapping photos of the drunken merry debauchery, and consuming green beer (because as we all know, authentic Celtic ale is a watery emerald color). Dionysius would've been most pleased with the scene.

I strike up tons of chitchats with random revellers between dancing to bad karaoke and almost bystanding right in the midst of a fist fight. As bouncers drag the combatants away I shout "Why can't we all just get along??" People look at me weird. I laugh. As the evening is winding down, a particularly tipsy girl and her friend and I start talking about my camera. They want their picture taken and ask if I'm from a newspaper or magazine or something. I tell them I'm nobody important, just a hobby photographer there observing the party. They contradict me saying I'm not nobody and they're observers too. Tres cool. Solid conversation #3 ensues. I recall that it was deep and philosophical, but as we were all pretty intoxicated, I'm sure it was probably all bullshit. :-) They still want their picture taken, so we go inside and they stand up on a bench and pose on either side of a Rolling Rock neon sign. I aim the camera, but then as somebody is passing by they want them to hold the camera and me to pose with them. I hop up on the bench and bump the sign with my elbow, causing it to emit a brief soft buzz and then go dark. Oops.

I leave and wander over to Tim Horton's two doors down. Diet Coke and a crueller later, I decide to walk off the buzz a little, so I am aimlessly wandering around the streets of Troy at 2 am passing people's houses and taking pictures of the front doors. In retrospect that was really creepy, but I have a thing for outdoor lights in the middle of the night. They look so lonely as they nobly perform their duty even if nobody is there appreciating the effort. I tend to personify inanimate objects.

St. Patrick's day 2005 was thoroughly perfect on so many levels. I hung out at a classy bar and had not one, but two intelligent conversations with classy people. I went to the beer bash party of my dreams. I had dialogue with more people than I ever thought I would. I look for chitchat like other guys look for sex, so feel like I got laid multiple times in one evening. Most of all, somebody wanted me in their picture, and so soon after lamenting about that very thing.

Fate? Maybe. Maybe not. But it's fun to imagine that my agonizing was answered and blessed.

I just stumbed across a website that is absolutely perfect for photograph junkies. It's called Found Photos. It's truly fascinating to look at these little glimpses into the lives of total strangers and let your imagination run. People fascinate me to no end.

I thought this was a James Bond movie.

I am stoned.
I am drunk.
I am watching "Rollerball" from 1975.
I am laughing my ass off.
James Caan looks so young.
I am noticing how 1975 Rollerball and Quidditch are suspiciously similar.
The Quad Rollerskates being Brooms.
The Motorcycles being the "Beaters".
The Rollerball being the Golden Snitch.
The Ref being Madame Hooch.
The Orange team being Slytherin.
The Green team being Hogwarts.
James Caan being being Harry Potter.
The dude with the yucky 70's moustache being Malfoy.
The sport being waaaay too important for how entirely pointless it is.

Call me crazy, but I think Rollerball totally ripped off Harry Potter.

snowbird

snowbird
Originally uploaded by groverflanagan.

One of many birds outside the bedroom window right after the Christmas snowstorm.

armandwatchingsnowbird

armandwatchingsnowbird
Originally uploaded by groverflanagan.

Armand watching birds in the tree just outside the window.

Last night I was in the photography section flipping through a book of celebrity portraits when I made a realization. I want somebody to want to take my picture, in more than just a passing snapshot, without them knowing that's what I want.

Pathetic, isn't it, ths craving validation from others?

tackytackytackytackytacky

Have you seen the latest Coke commercial where they use the "put da lime in da coconut" song, only they change it to "you put da lime in da Coke, you nut."? I am the biggest enthusiast of puns and other plays on words, but my reaction to that horrifyingly bad attempt at cleverness was akin to when I took a bite of turkey cold cuts that were about two days too old. Wretched, I tell you.

Has anybody seen "The Guru"? Remember how the the porn company made movies with intentionally the most tacky titles they could come up with, like the roman gladiator porn "Glad He Ate Her"? It's that level of tack! GAAA!!!!

I am posessed by this house...

Seriously. The people who live in my apartment building are deranged, and for a nutter like me to make that claim, you know they have to exhibit some seriously off outward behavior.

First, there's the new people who moved in next to us. They definitely lean toward the redneck persuasion, but the husband is super friendly. No problem there. His wife, however, will peek through the back door (like that's not totally obvious) and wait for you to drive away before emerging. If she's outside and you drive up, she'll scurry in and slam the door. I have yet to get a hello out of her.

Then there's the neighbors down the way with a Lassie-ish dog who can't bark. They'll secure him/her to the tree out front, and he/she/it will look like it's trying to say something, but all you'll hear is wheeze! wheeze! wheeze!

(Not really a direct fault of the demons posessing the structure, but it's another oddity to add to the twilight zone-y ambiance.)

Finally there's the lady who lives on the other side of our apartment. I'd say she's either my age or slightly younger, with two young children, and she's relatively normal looking and pretty. Think Avril Lavigne. Again, getting a hello out of her increasingly is becoming comparable in probability to sqeezing maple syrup from a chunk of granite. Just this morning she was going out to her car the same time I was. Her son smiled at me and babbled something about what he ate for breakfast, and I said (with a big grin and exaggerated "talking to a little kid" tone of voice) "Really? Wow! That sounds yummy!" She just glares at me like I told her kid to fuck off or something.

I don't understand the frost, I'm just trying to be friendly. I wanted to say to her, "You might as well let your guard down and warm up to us. We're really nice people. Besides, there isn't nearly the divide between us that you perceive. The walls here are pretty thin, and it's not like we can't hear when you listen to the stereo or fuck in the shower."

Of course, I don't actually say that.

Photographs Better Off Not Taken

Went to visit my grandpa the other night. He has been transferring back and forth between Kettering Medical Center and Bethany Village's Rehab Center. I can't imagine getting the flu, bronchitis, and pneumonia at the same goddamn time. Anyways, when I got there his room was empty, but the nurse told me he was at a meeting, so I waited outside. She was really nice and even got me a can of soda. Turns out the meeting was actually a Tuesday night dinner and entertainment thing, so she led me to the auditorium to sit with him.

Strangely enough, it hardly shocked me to see him in a wheelchair, portable oxygen machine in his lap. I think talking to dad on the phone prepared me. Grandma looked at me, then at him and asked "Where do I know him from?" You could tell she recognized me, and just like when you see a B-movie actor in a major movie and say "Damn...it's on the tip of my tongue where I know them from!" once grandpa told her, her eyes lit up and she remembered. I tugged at my bangs and whispered "It's the long hair." She giggled.

In old pictures of my grandpa from when he was my age in the Army Air Corps, he was all muscle with chisled handsome features. He was quite the lady killer. And even now in his current state, I found it wonderfully amusing to see all the old ladies who, during the musical act, would turn around and give him coy smiles and waves. He never lost his touch.

Afterward I wheeled him back through the labrynthine hallways back to his room and after he sat in his chair, I got his oxygen tube for him and turned on the machine. Sitting across from him, I truly got a sense of the state he was in. As much as I love taking pretty photos, I also want to document the harshness of reality. My camera was in the car, but I sensed this was neither time nor place, so the image will have to remain in my head. There he sat, the cold flourescent lights illuminating him from behind, oxygen tubing wrapped around his ears and across his nose. Even as he talked he gazed distantly into nowhere.

Grandma had been there all day and wanted to go home, so we said our goodbyes and I drove back to their half-double. She invited me in, so we spent a few minutes looking at old artifacts of their lives. It was getting late (and frankly, I was getting somewhat uncomfortable watching her memory rhythmically come and go like waves on a beach. Shame on me.) so I left. As I did, again, I so wanted to capture the image of her silhouetted in the door waving goodbye across their dark porch, minus grandpa standing behind her.

Again, this portrait will have to exist only as a hazy memory.

Touched up in Photoshop just a little. Kicked up the contrast and brushed out the hint of a picture frame behind my head.  

First stop, Vandalia. Next stop, CANNES!

I got the message on my answering machine tonight. I have been cast in "Amanda's Boys", a very indie film being shot here in the Dayton area by a dude who works at Kroger and lives in Vandalia. My character is the crazy comic relief, the court jester. I am to do embarrassing things in front of the camera in my pursuit (i.e. stalking) of the rare and radiend maiden whom the angels named Amanda. Look for me with my shirt off, her name painted all over my wobbly bits, while singing to her out in public. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Called T, the director, to confirm my acceptance. We meet next Saturday night in Yellow Springs to distribute scripts and discuss the film. My bee people! After all these long wretched years, I finally found them!

(and who said that stalking never yielded positive results?)

I made a new blog exclusively as a journal of the experience.

Just when I thought I'd seen it all

here at work, sure enough something else pops up. I was over in the Seasonal dept. helping Marcella stock bird supplies when I noticed this text on a box of hummingbird food mix:

Hummer's Choice - Tastes Great!

I about died laughing.

I'm funny when I'm drunk

Case in point, this email reply that I sent to my mom last night after six bottles of Killian's:

No problem! We're just squished between a rock and a hard place at the moment, and even though Wednesday should go on payday next month, it would really really help this Saturday. I hate to hear that you got sick, the flu is never fun.

Pink eye is fun. It doesn't hurt, your eyes feel all fuzzy, and you get to stay home. I like getting pink eye. Flu...no. Never fun. I'd rather be healthy at work than laying in bed feeling like I've just been hit by a garbage truck. I hope you're feeling better. I hope Chuck doesn't get it, but I'm sure he's probably doomed. DOOMED, I say!

(It's late. I'm slap happy. Good night.)

(-: ydnA

Teehee! I amuse myself.

Today at work by the garbage compactor there was an end table waiting to be disposed of. On the return slip, the reason read "Top has huge galge." I snickered at first, until I realized that 'round these parts, it's typical for midwesterners to pronounce 'gouge' as "galj" instead of "gowj", and 'galge' was just a phonetic transcription of the common pronounciation.

The more I think about it, most words with the "ow" sound tend to get pronounced "al". The word 'cowelling' gets pronounced "cal-ling" instead of "cow-ul-ling". And I realize that I tend to do this as well.

Yeah, I know. I'm a hick. :-) I love Ohio.