Happy Birthday to "Treasures"!

Happy Birthday to my blog! Golly, it's been a whole year? Here's a link to the beginning.

My, how things change. Never thought in a million years I'd have commenters other than myself. :-) Enjoy the nostalgia!

Tonight's fortune cookie:

One who admires you greatly is hidden before your eyes.

Hmmm... before my eyes...maybe somebody at work? That would be nice.

Separated at Birth? (part 2)

Captain Jean-Luc Picard...


and Mr. Clean?

Separated at Birth?

Orville Redenbacher...


And the Eharmony guy?

---


Sin City and Spy Kids director Robert Rodriguez...


And Scottish actor Gerard Butler?

And Orion in the southern morning sky, westward facing,
points the way to you from where I stand, gives me hope,
lets me know you're nearing ever closer to my arms.

You know, back when I saw "Meet The Fockers", I thought the movie would've totally sucked had Barbra Streisand not carried it. STOP right there! I know what you're thinking. Let me finish... I've never given two hoots in hell about her, and I just thought her character was very endearing.

Flashforward to today. Caroline turns on the tail end of "The Prince of Tides". It's actually not bad, and back in the 90's Barbra Streisand was kinda cute. So Caro wants me to go out and rent "The Mirror Has Two Faces". Well... I'm watching it, and I'm loving it. How can you not be charmed by the whole independant, quick talking, easy to laugh, funny, witty, adorable-yet-just-not-quite-able-to-attract-a-man, somewhat typecast character she portrays? I think I'm becoming a Barbra Streisand fan.

I will say this though: I will never

ever

ever

ever

give a shit about window treatments. Quit snickering.

Voice on tape: Now, repeat after me: "Yo!"
Howard Brackett: Yo!
Voice on tape: Hot damn!
Howard Brackett: Hot damn!
Voice on tape: What a fabulous window treatment!
Howard Brackett: What a fabu...
Voice on tape: That was a trick!

---

Speaking of movies, I wish I could leave voice messages like people on TV, instead of my usual routine of sounding one step above totally mentally challenged. I really wish that on the fly I could pull off some Rico Grover Suave act and leave some charming bit of witticism that makes the person receiving it giggle and then go around and play it to all her friends saying "Listen to this! Isn't this guy amazing?". Hell, I'd even settle for the cute bumbling act like the guy in "Win A Date With Tad Hamilton".

But noooooooooooo. Invariably, I always end up leaving a message that sounds like Woody Allen on crack.

Ren Fest photos up on my Flickr page. Lots of good costumes and colorful personalities!

Steff of The Last Ditch tagged me to fill out a little questionnaire thingy containing the following topics:

7 Things I plan to do before I die
7 Things I cannot do
7 Things that attract me to the same or opposite sex
7 Things I say most often
7 Celebrity crushes

I will fill this out as soon as I think of decent answers. Right now my mind is elsewhere, namely Friday, October 7. That night I will be going to the forementioned goth night at the dance club Fusion. This time I will be driving only myself and therefore act as an autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking. Hoping to keep up the consistant record of being invited home with somebody, as this time I can actually go.

Weird thing is, what I need more than anything is simple human contact. Is there such thing as a one night snuggle stand? What I'm dying to do is go back to some lonely stranger's apartment, strip off all our clothes... and then curl up together and go to sleep.

Tonight's fortune cookie:

The stars appear every night in the sky. All is well.

Ok, so here's Saturday night: Old school readers, do you remember my post with Elf Girl and Kitchen Queen? Well, KQueen is a drag performer (a la "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert") at a club here in Dayton called The Cell Block, and they were putting on a show and raffle to raise money for Katrina victims. A group of people were going from work to see him. Elf Girl, her partner in crime Country Girl, Quiet Girl, and a coupla guys from night shift I don't know asked me if I wanted to go too. I invited Angela to come along, especially since she was sick that thursday and we couldn't do our Avalanche 'thing'.

So I pick up Angela and all but two of the dudes meet up at Elf Girl's place at 7:30 (incidentally, just a street over from me). We cruise to a line dance bar called The Yellow Rose, and meet up with the other two dudes. It's really Quiet Girl's night, as she has never been out to bars before, and the others were determined to see her drunk. As the DD, I am drinking only ice water. I had my alcohol thursday night at the Dunaway's (I'll write about that in a bit) The place isn't really any of ours' bag except Country Girl's, but the girls all ride the mechanical bull, and I take Angela out for the first slow dance. (don't be getting any ideas! We kept a respectable distance).

On to Cell Block, as the show starts at 11. Anyway, at the show was another of the managers, who tries so hard to act proper, but everybody knows he's gay. He's a great guy, but it was weird since the only times I see him are at work when he's got his pleated khakis with shirt tucked in and nice shiny shoes. KQueen done up like a burlesque hussy? No shocker there. He's such a colorful personality anyway, but the Manager? There's Mr. Straight-Laced sitting in jeans and t-shirt waving his hands in the air and holding dollar bills in his mouth for the performers to snatch up.... who are you and what have you done with my manager? Anyway, the girls are all having a great time dancing around grinding against the guys and each other. Us guys are having a great time watching. The other three were danced upon, but the girls kept thinking Angela and I were together, so no slinky dancing for Andy. :-(

Anyway... long story short, the girls pair off with the dudes, and Angela's man shows up after an hour or two. Elf gets all "oh, poor Andy!" when I'm standing there all alone while everybody is with somebody else, so she gives me a few seconds of consolation grinding. (schwing!)

What really had me concerned, though, was that Angela had a fair amount to drink already, and even after Country Girl and I tell him this, he keeps pumping her full of daiquiris while staying mostly sober himself. This got me worried, as I knew a hotel room was involved and still don't completely trust the guy (even though he's cool to talk to), and I just wanted to see her safe and sound back in her home. Hence the worried post sunday morning, but it sounds like it all turned out for the best.

It's not that I don't want to see her with him so I can be selfish, or anything. You know, the whole "passing the best friend test" thing? I just want to see her with somebody I can trust to be good to her. Angela and I make the best of friends, but in the long run our personalities are so opposite that even if she were to offer, I know we'd make the absolute worst of significant others for each other. :-)

---

Thursday night in a nutshell: Anglea sick, had to bail. Caro gone most of the night. I go get a turkey hoagie and beer at D's. Stay until karaoke starts. Football actually gets interesting about a pitcher in, although I still don't know who TCU is. I rooted for the guys in the purple uniforms. Dude sits down next to me. He's a talent scout for the Dayton/Cincy area. As I pore over the books looking for songs to sing, he says that I'm probably being humble, and am actually a good singer. Being an open personality, and the only guy there with long hair and who didn't look like a total little preppie, I think he thought I was some rebel rock-star type. I prove him horribly wrong as the night goes on, but he's got some golden pipes and wows the crowd a few times. Had some wonderful intelligent conversation though, and I wrote down Stephanie Westfall's name and Danny Voris' website. Told him if he wants to see somebody who deserves stardom, go see her as soon as humanly possible. I leave, hoarse from singing.

I have discovered secret weapon #2, though. (#1 being the kilt, but I was in my work clothes) As I sang "Wonderful Tonight", it was great fun to watch every woman in the place over 45 gradually melt into a puddle. One lady starts making eyes at me. I smile back. Throughout the night she continues doing so, and I keep smiling back, but I wasn't in the mood to flirt. Sometimes I can be such a beggar and a chooser.

You're all probably wondering what on earth that last post and couple of comments were about. Went out last saturday night upon invitation from a group of people at work, and I brought Angela. I'll explain later when there's a bit more time.

Sometimes I am left wondering where the boundary lies between being an accessory to the problem as opposed to supporting the solution.

Sometimes I am left wondering where the boundary lies between seeing a dear friend in distress and wanting to help, as opposed to being self-righteous and messianic in my desire to "save".

Sometimes I am left wondering whether I should intervene in a situation as opposed to letting something happen that I sense to be a mistake. Who am I, and what gives me the right, to judge what is right and what is wrong for somebody else?

So I stand by and watch with heart breaking, sensing something isn't right, and feeling totally clueless and helpless as to what to do about it, or whether I even should.

Maybe I'm too weak. Maybe I just don't have the assertiveness. Or maybe I have the wisdom to back off. Who knows?

So yesterday I was talking to Yvonne, my workplace psychiatrist, when some dude had to talk to her. As I waited for him to finish, I observed the way he spoke to her and me.

"I wish I could be more like him." I said, as we watched him throw away old light fixtures. Yvonne wondered what I meant by that. Did I want to dress like him? Look like him? What I told her is that he talked normal, like all the other guys in the break room, and on TV and in the movies. I can't phrase my words like he did and they do. I can't get that nasal drawn out apathetic yet not unfriendly sound that everybody has today. It's not that I'm on some level above or beyond... it's that I feel, well... askew.

I just couldn't grasp the right words to explain what I meant, but in thinking, I think I have:

Remember math class? Specifically, do you remember functions, the number "machines" that were set equations whose purposes were to take inputs and then spit out a result? Well, I always seemed to miss one little calculation, resulting in my set of answers being totally different from everybody elses', even though we all were given the same inputs.

Well, that's a perfect analogy to explain what I was trying to tell Yvonne. I feel like I walk through life taking in the same inputs and stimuli as everybody else, yet something in me miscalculates them ever so slightly so that even though I live in the same world as everybody else, I've got a fucked up set of interpretations.

The trouble is going to be finding people with my quirk. Oh well, I never was any good at math anyway...

Well, today we went and submitted the papers to the Clerk of Courts. Unlike the somber mood when filling the forms out, today was almost light-hearted. After leaving the government office building adjacent to the courthouse, we both felt the relief of having a huge weight lifted off our shoulders, and went and had a very pleasant lunch afterwards.

It's hard to get a firm grasp on, though. October 19, we stand in front of a man in a robe who will pronounce us no longer married. Just over a month.

Two months from this friday she moves out, and I will be on my own for the first time in my adult life... free to make all the mistakes and fuck-ups I've been protected from thus far.

I feel like I'm 27, waking up from a coma slipped into at age 18.

Some things never change...

I just came across This site where they translate graffiti found on the walls at Pompeii. Here are a few of my favorites:

Lovers are like bees in that they live a honeyed life

Whoever loves, let him flourish. Let him perish who knows not love. Let him perish twice over whoever forbids love.

If anyone does not believe in Venus, they should gaze at my girl friend

Vibius Restitutus slept here alone and missed his darling Urbana

No young buck is complete until he has fallen in love

Love dictates to me as I write and Cupid shows me the way, but may I die if god should wish me to go on without you

I screwed the barmaid

Picked up the pictures I took at the Renaissance Festival yesterday. I'll post them all later, but I'll give you this sneak preview. I'm cool like that.



By the way, I post low-res versions, but the full-res photos are available for the asking if you ever see any that you'd like, and that goes for anything that I've posted in the past.

Several days ago the book containing all the necessary forms was picked up from Little Professor. Tonight they get completed and ready for submission. Since my handwriting is far less than perfect, I won't be filling out the fields. Instead, my function is to proofread. With chips and dip on table, ready for the long haul, we begin...

As details are ironed out, I slip into a good Bud Ice buzz to quell the awkward weirdness and palpable surreality of the moment. Page after page, I look, nod, and point out missing info. Posessions are split. Decisions are made. Much sooner than anticipated, though, everything is done. Just under an hour. It's almost disconcerting just how easy that was. I'm sure there's more red tape in store.

Wednesday the papers get filed.

I drive to Staples to make the required four copies of each page, Anna Nalick spinning in the CD player:

And hidin' beneath my blankets and sheets
I'm finally free
I'm killin' the ghost of you, and I'm close to
Awakening me

Yeah, yeah
So I'm takin' my heart and I'm gettin' me out
And love's something that I wouldn't wanna live without
So I'm takin' my heart and I'm gettin' me out
On my own, my own, my own

The sheets are carfully slid one by one into the corner of the glass. Copies, four, start. Affadavit... copies, four, start. Waiver... copies, four, start. I'm being watched, so I make sure to carefully mark each group of four copies I make. Copies, four, start, hash mark, copies, four, start, hash mark, until a stack of paper has amassed, and the last page has been printed off. 88 copies for $5- something. Not bad.

Driving to Mom's house, on Eldean Road it finally hits me... the gravity of what I was just doing. I pull over into a gravel lot at a propane truck refill station to collect my thoughts. I've just been smacked upside the head with a cocktail of feelings, the likes of which I've never felt before. Fear, thrill, excitement, dismay, doom, relief, guilt, anxiety, happiness, sadness.

The intensity of the sadness takes me by surprise.

I have been silent on the issue of Katrina simply because I don't have anything to say that everybody else isn't saying. I see the images on TV in the break room, and hear the stories on NPR, and feel guilty for how effectively my mind manages to block it out. I know what I'm looking at, but it's so far removed from anything I've ever had to experience, there is simply no empathy to be found. Sympathy, yes, and I guess I've done my little part to help, and will have to be happy with that.

Louisiana's state and local governments blame Bush and FEMA. Bush and FEMA blame Louisiana. Everybody's got a finger to point, and it's inevitably at somebody else. This makes me so angry I just want to break something. If you want a good rant against Bush, go to The Last Ditch and scroll down. I can't even begin to formulate into words how... I don't know. I simply don't know how to say it.

What really got to me, I cried when I heard about all the animals dying of starvation at the Audubon Aquarium of the Americas. They didn't mention names, but they said two river otters died. Buck and Emma are dead.



Later, I'll post a tribute to the once and future Nola with a re-posting of what photos I scanned from my trip there in October '03.

---

On a more positive note, last night I picked up Angela and we did our normal Thursday thing, except that in lieu of a band, they had karaoke dj's there. I've never done karaoke, but have always wanted to. Immediately she wanted us both to go up and sing something, so I picked out The Beatles' "With a Little Help From My Friends". Seemed appropriate, I thought. No idea how we sounded to the audience, but it was a helluva good time up there on stage.

Andy is hooked, and after poring through the books, submits a handful of request slips.

Throughout the evening I sing "People Are Strange", Angela sings "Wonderful Tonight" and "Desperado" with me, I fly solo on Blind Melon's "No Rain" and Spin Doctors' "Two Princes" (which was really fucking fun. I love that song.)

Now I know I can carry a tune in a bucket, but I'm not exactly Mr. Golden Pipes, yet some dude wants me to sing him and his woman a song. Some duet Sheryl Crow did with Kid Rock? Never heard of it. I tell him to pick out something else, and if I know it, I'll get up and dedicate it to them. He's a tad drunk, and I think he forgot about the song because he went back to his table and began fawning over his lady friend for the rest of the night, which was understandable as he was himself probably 40-ish and she was a total milf. Oh well. I appreciate the compliment anyway.

The DJ sings a few songs herself, and she can really wail. She sings an upbeat techno-y song, and Angela wants to go up and dance. In front of everybody we hit what little dance floor they have and really cut it to pieces. I'm sure we both looked like dorks, but if there's one thing I love about Angela, it's that she's so bold and fearless and she makes everyone around her feel the same. She just doesn't care, as long as she's having fun.

Friday's story posted on l'autre blog...

There are rooms in this house that I don't open any more,
dusty books and pictures on the floor.
She will never see, she'll never see that part of me.
I wanna be for her what I could never be for you.

Ben Folds Five, "Mess"

I think I'm in love...

I present to you Anna Nalick, my new obsession du jour (they rotate fairly regularly), and her song, "Breathe (2am)". God, this song hits me like a ton of bricks every time I hear it.



2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake,
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,
I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"
Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize,
Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason

'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl.
So cradle your head in your hands
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe

In May he turn 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
"Just a Day", he said down to the flask in his fist,
"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,
But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,
Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it.

Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe... just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe

There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around.

2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe.

I am now officially a prejudicial jerk-off redneck American. We were just at the airport, and walking back to the car I hear what sounds like the Arabic calls to prayer like on TV. I look over and see a guy in a car with the windows down who looks exactly like Bin Laden, except that I'm guessing he's about our age. He glances over at me with a nervous look.

All I can think of is "Fuck, we gotta get out of here." It was almost a very mild touch of panic. I drove away a bit quicker than normal.

I mean, come on! The guy was probably just trying to get an evening prayer in (like they do. I respect that.), and got nervous thinking some gorilla-sized white guy was going to beat him up for being middle eastern. I feel like such an asshole.

Hey, I just noticed that somebody with an IP address owned by "Illinois Tool Works/FEG Hobart" here in Troy was on. If you come back, please let me know who you are. :-)

Went to the Ohio Renaissance Festival today, and had a bloody good time. Since the other half had an accompanying friend, I was left to my own devices with a good $40 to kill. Armed with camera and two spare rolls in the bag, I set out to make some new friends...

Walked around taking pictures of all sorts of peope, some shots candid and some posed. I promised myself I would take the initiative and photograph more people and not just things... and did I get some fantastic portraits! Going to drop the rolls off tomorrow somewhere, and it'll be a week or two until I can get them all, but I'll post them individually as I get them.

Purchase-wise, I really only wanted three things: something like beads or a wrap for my hair, a scented oil to aid in rendering women powerless against my wiley charms, and a new necklace. So as I walked around (noting the unfortunate lack of hair-item vendors), I happened upon a place that did metal pony tail holders and hair wraps. Got talking to one of the sales dudes with big ol' dreds, and bought this neat little hair wrap that consists of a metal spiral with a celtic knot charm and purple stone. It's about three inches long, and what you do is twist a bit of hair about the diameter of a pencil, wrap it in the spiral, and stick a metal pin with a squiggly top down into it to hold in place. Took a picture in the mirror, can't wait to see if it turned out ok.

The only necklaces I wanted were out of my price range. Bummer. Happened upon a side stage where a woman (in costume, of course) was playing a guitar and singing, so I stopped and sat down to listen. She was quite a MILF I must say, but also an excellent singer and fingerstyle guitar player. After the song (Scarborough Fair), everybody else got up and left, so she asked me to sit closer and chat for a bit. Asking me what I wanted to hear, I requested a song that will break my heart, so she sang a song about a shipwreck, told from the point of view of the captain who died. One candid shot while she played and one posed. There was this wonderful primarily ambient light with dappled rays.

So I happen upon an essential oil booth, and the two very charming and attractive girls running it. Asked them what scent I should wear to add that extra je ne sais quoi around women. After a very charming conversation for about twenty minutes, and letting them apply three different oils to my arms, a woman and her son came to the booth. I asked her for her opinion and had her sniff the different spots on my arms. She liked the Sweet Chinese Opium. So I walked around to different nearby booths asking the women what they thought (and being very surprised by their lack of hesitation at sniffing a stranger's arms upon request). Some liked the vanilla, and some the opium, but the clincher was one woman who smelled the opium and said "Wow, that one makes me just wanna... GRRR!" One dram bottle of Opium oil, please. :-) Gonna wear it to work tomorrow and see if anyone says anything.

All in all, I burnt off two and a half rolls of film, had more neat little conversations than I could possibly have expected, and charmed the buskins off the girls working the oil booth. Good stuff indeed.

Being 4:30 am, I am going to spare the unnecessary details of my night out at the dance club, save that I am left with very voluptuous mental pictures involving a metal pole, there is a girl walking around Dayton with my teeth marks on her neck, and a name echoing in my head:

"Luna"

Got the Mirthmobile back a coupla days ago. It's as beautiful as the day I drove it off the lot. Kudos to the body shop at Dave Arbogast.

---

I think I'm setting myself up for disaster. I really have to wonder where the threshold lies when hope fades into foolishness... and whether I've crossed over.

I can easily think of a thousand and one things wrong with you, and I love every single one of them.

Wolfe asleep

Cozy

Went to Newport, Kentucky on Wednesday, which is right across the Ohio river from Cincinnati. My love affair with Kodak Hi-Def 400 film continues...

Newport

Cafe Istanbul, Newport

Newport

Newport

Newport

Newport

Shot "from the hip". From my point of view, all I could see in the mirror was from my chest down. Lucky shot. :-)

Newport

Newport

Newport

Street life, Newport.

Newport

Hot Topic employee, Newport. We went in, and upon seeing her, I said that her hair was awesome, and I'd like to take her photograph. She said I couldn't take pictures in the store, so she said "follow me", and walked just outside. I should've gotten a second head-and-shoulders close up, but I was too nervous to even think to ask.

Bar Louie sign, Newport

Newport Mall

View of the Ohio River, looking from Kentucky over to Ohio.

Saving the best for last, the photo that makes me say "Damn, I'm good!" I set the shutter speed at 2000 to minimize any ambient foreground light.