(be sure to catch the latest photo posts, directly below this one)

---

I'm still floating on the high Texas Gurl gave me when she said she thought of me. It's the most intoxicating feeling to know that I'm being thought of, the joy amplified by knowing I'm in the thoughts of the same person occupying my own. Still, it feels surreal to like somebody as I do her, so much it hurts. So much my stomach aches at the thought of not being with her. My imagination is spinning with a million and one daydreams of her and I... and questions. I envision us fitting so well together during our brief visit that for the moment it'll seem like we're made for each other. And what the hell says that we aren't? Why can't I stop telling myself she's too good? Why can't I stop placing myself in the dirt upon which walk the women I adore? I piss and whine and bitch and moan about how nobody invites or lets me into their private circles, but in introspect, I realize that I'm the one who's dug the moat and denied anybody the drawbridge.

You know what I'm really afraid of? I'm scared to holy hell that she'll be the most amazing person I'll ever come across, and that I'll totally blow it by clapping shut like a clamshell and not fully letting her into my world, simply out of some imaginary secondary class I put myself in.

All this built-up anxiety... and I know it's needless. I know it'll dissolve in that moment we first meet. There at the arrival gate, it'll all just melt away along with my heart, and the rest of the world around our embrace.

What a lovely daydream. :-)

Oregon District.

Oregon District

Oregon District. I walked past these two girls, one taking pictures of the other. In an exercise of overcoming my fear of talking to people, I introduced myself as a a hobby photographer and wondered if I could take a picture of them taking a portrait. They said ok. I thanked them and went on my way.

Oregon District. All along this fence there was nothing but green ivy, save for this one bright little flower. I should've backed off to give more of that impression, but I didn't want the flowers to be overlooked.

Oregon District

Oregon District.

Oregon District. Had to laugh at this one.

Near Sinclair

I super-dee-duper like this one. So did Chickpea, who got a sneak preview when we last talked.

Sinclair

On the way back to Sinclair, there's this low-income apartment highrise. I stood up on the edge of the landscape planter and took this of the patio area. I couldn't not document this. Just makes you wonder.

tree

I never noticed the green and yellow trim on this building before, but what really caught my eye were the hooks holding up the awning. Tres cool.

I like this. Really fits the building.

Kettering Tower

Alley. A bit too dark, but with the nice pleasing fisheye distortion making it somewhat surreal.

I liked the colorful flowers next to the drab concrete.

And last, but certainly not least, are the photos I made the special side trip for. Texas Gurl told me once that she loves pictures of statues, so I popped by Dayton's Memorial Hall. They're way up on pedestals, though, and were hard to get a good angle on that wasn't looking up too sharply.

Fooling with the burn and dodge tools to lighten and darken spots.

Outside Memorial Hall

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.

Seriously, I'm still here, alive and kicking. Aside from an aching wisdom tooth and a terribly painful chafe right there in the crease of my right leg where my work pants rub when I hike them up too high, I'm fine. Things are just really busy here in the Hutchinson household. I've still got last weeks pictures to post. Didn't pick up any this week, as most of my paycheck went to the landlord to avoid eviction. Things be tight, but no worries! All is well, or will be in a very very short while.

I haven't been 100% open and honest with you guys. For all my 'poor me'-ing about being rejected and unable to find anybody to talk to, there is somebody I share a mutual romantic interest in. You know, I'm not quite sure why I've been so hush-hush about coming out and jut saying it, but I'm sure you've all gathered a hunch from comments left over the last several weeks. I've been emailing and talking on the phone with Texas Gurl, and I'm going to fly out and visit her in December.

My feelings on this? I can't fucking wait! I'm also scared to death because, well, you guys know me. I'm going to fall so hard for her in that week that it's going to shatter me to leave. It's an interesting dichotomy these equal parts longing and dread. Even though she's mentioned the f-word (yep, fling), I'm worried about hurting anybody, her or myself.

I don't know what it is, but the best way to describe is that I feel stirred from the inside when I talk to, write to, or even simply think of her. It's as though something inside of me is emerging from hibernation. She has inspired me again. I take pictures with her in mind. I write verses that come together into poems when I think about her. I've even created a flipbook animation for her based on a picture in her flickr photostream. Strange things like constellations and bronze statues of soldiers make me think of her.

I had to get that off my chest, it couldn't be held in any longer. I'm falling into a serious case of "Like with a capital L" with with this Gurl. Do I see anything long term out of this? Geographic and educational limitations seriously put a damper on things, but even if this "fling" only lasts one short week, I'll never stop commenting on her blog, sending her emails, and occasionally pulling out my drawer at work to look at her pictures I've printed out and placed inside.

Had yet another long and wonderful IM conversation last night with Chickpea. As she so correctly points out to me (again and again and again), I tend to place women up on a pedestal so lofty they're in danger of getting sucked into the jet engines of passing airliners. It's so nice to be proven wrong, discussing the humanity and imperfections that make people, well, perfect. Instead of being a flawless ideal, a far more colorful picture is painted of a down-to-earth (mortal) person who needs just the same shoulder to cry on as the rest of us, and who provides a wonderful shoulder of her own.

It's funny how people who give the best advice usually are in the most desperate need of advice for themselves. It's an interesting yin/yang setup, but if you think about it, when you're focusing on your own problems, your mind is in the emotional/flipout/freakout/touchy-feely mode, where the ability to think things through and make decisions clearly is pretty much shut down. When listening to a friend, the gears in your head shift to the more logical/methodical/problem solving/put-two-and-two-together functionality.

[btw, as I'm typing this, GWAR's "Nitro Burning Funny Bong" is on the tv. Just wanted to give you a totally inapproprate soundtrack to this post :-) ]

Anyway, I can pour my (easily remedied) troubled heart out to her, and she'll give me the most practical and intelligent answers, but then turn around and tell me things that scream for simple solutions. The nice thing, though, is even when we're acting as Dr. Flanagan and Dr. Pea for each other, a little bit of our own problems seep in, and in those moments of logical clarity, free of the emotional smog that obscures the whole picture, we can get a good look at our own troubles. In that small way, helping others has the side benefit of letting you see clearly into your own heart.

A friend in need is a friend indeed, and helps in far more than just one way, whether they realize it or not. In her post, she thanks me, and I have to say that I return the gratitude wholeheartedly.

Hi. It's 2:45am, and guess where I am? Yep, home.

I have no urge whatsoever to go into detail except that Cruxshadows was fucking awesome, the lead singer gives good hugs, I had an excellent time dancing my ass off for hours with a huge smile, and I have come to the conclusion that women are completely untouchable. Yeah, I left early, half-dead of embarrassment.

Ok, so as I'm dancing, song after song after song, I see this girl all night who is standing alone watching the crowd and looking all forlorn. I'm thinking to myself, god, this girl looks as miserable as I'm pretending not to be, so I spend the night screwing up the courage to say something. Toward the end of the night, I finally approach her and say: "Pardon me, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you look like you want somebody to say hi to you, so hi!, I'm Andy."

"Oh, umm, umm, I'm here with my boyfriend and, umm, I'm getting my friend because we're taking her home and, umm, we're leaving." Then she walks away.

Talk about being shot down point blank! I immediately leave, feeling about three inches tall and wanting to crawl under a rock and die, I'm so embarrassed. I will never talk to anybody I don't already know ever again.

Thank you guys for your support lately. I keep saying this to everybody, but you have no idea how much it means to me. But for as much as I'd like to dwell on the last post, time and life are moving on, and so must I, and so must "Treasures".

I picked up another roll of my photos yesterday, and although I don't have time to post all of them (as we're just about to head out to the goth club to see a band called Cruxshadows), here's a sneak preview of things to come. Lots of bright fall colors on this one. Being a cloudy day, I was disappointed how all the color washed out of the prints. God bless photoshop, and the Hue/Saturation and Color Balance adjusters. I tried not to over-do it, but only to bring the photos to the brilliance that I saw in person.

Note the glow-in-the-dark bright red car in the parking lot across the street. Yeah, I nudged the hue to red and increased the saturation. So I cheated. Sue me. :-)

Well, this morning happened. Now it's evening. Has anything really changed? No, not really... only on paper, and her last name, her maiden restored. I'll not go into any detail because, frankly, it was a very personal moment. All I'll say is that it was not a big occasion at all, but rather more internally moving for all present.

What I am thinking about, though, is again wondering what changed? I feel a bit different, but I'm sure that will wear off. Really, did the marriage end this morning? I don't think so. What ended was the government's recognition of our marriage. Ask any gay couple who have been together for years, and will stay together monogamously for the rest of their lives. They'll tell you they're married, despite the government's refusal to acknowledge. And how many people with rings on their fingers will tell you that the relationship with their spouse hasn't been a real marriage for quite a while?

My marriage on paper dissolved this morning, but the real marriage ended long ago. Still, I feel a certain lightness... and more alone than ever before.

---

But, after writing that, I decided to walk to Kroger and cash in my pocketful of change, figuring that if I had enough, I would walk over to Avalanche for a beer or two. Turns out I had $3.83. Hmm... what to do? I could go to the Royal Wok next door for some dumplings. I could go and waste it on one single beer. (no thank you) I even thought about buying a pumpkin and carving it. Instead, I bought a 2-litre of Diet Cherry Coke, and walked over to Hollywood Video for a Sundance-y, wonky, chick-flicky, romantic comedy. The other day I rented Me And You And Everyone We Know, and it turned out to be the most off-kilter romantic movie. Aside from a couple of dodgy scenes, I loved it to pieces.

I pick up the mischeviously titled "Amy's O", and walk back home, movie and pop in grocery bag swinging back and forth. So I'm sitting here in my pj's, sipping my pop, and thus far (as I'm taking an intermission to cook something), it's turning out to be a delightful little movie. What a pleasant evening this has become. :-)

While digging through my winter coat pockets to remove stuff before washing, Caro unearthed a little journal Viv gave to me (a book store freebie) last winter. You know, it's about 1/4 the size of a sheet of paper, with a purple cover and elastic band to hold it shut. Neat little book. Anyway, I flipped through it, and even though I only filled about four little pages with stuff, this is the last thing I wrote before hanging up the coat for the season:

But times came & times passed
And future slipped into memory.
With our heads down & eyes shut tight,
We never even noticed.

Opportunities dropped like autumn leaves
Often blanketing our path ahead,
But with grace & skill you dodged
and stepped right past, & I followed behind.

Autumn leaves are falling once again. Tomorrow we stand before a judge who pronounces our marriage dissolved. Maybe if there's still time this fall, I will finally stop to pick up a few yellow, orange, and brown leaves and admire them.

Today at lunch, I went to Jay & Mary's bookcenter and picked up a magazine called "Popular Photography & Imaging". Andy has learned a new Photoshop trick! Absolutely pointless in regards to his photographic purposes, yes, but fun nonetheless...

Last wednesday, I drove Caro to class and had a good five hours to kill. Luckily, I had four unused rolls of film, a city begging to be photographed, and an itchy trigger finger. I could only afford one pack, and I'm pleased with the results. I can't wait to see what's on the other three, being held for a ransom of about $11 each by Wal-Mart. If you haven't already, make sure to catch the post after the pictures. It's kinda funny.

For this one, I was standing under the Main St. bridge. I walked past the lady in black earlier when she was sitting eating lunch on the ampitheatre-like concrete steps on down the path behind me, but I didn't want to bug her. She passed me while I was taking some other pictures, and I thought this wide scene with only one solitary figure looked lonely.

I didn't touch the contrast on this one, it made the bottom corners too dark. Instead, I just bumped the brightness down a bit.

Faded desaturation.

Again.

Along the bike path down by the river, there's an old segment of retaining wall that didn't get torn down and replaced by concrete. Something about this made me think of an old castle wall.

At one spot, there was a steady trickle of water coming out from the wall, right underneath where the green viney stuff is sitting.

Close-up of the trickling water. I've decided that I need to be more sparing with my close ups.

Depth shot down St. Clair Street.

I learned this cool trick of adjusting color balances in Photoshop, and found that I can shift away from cyan towards red. This is my favorite shot off the roll, despite Program mode opening the aperture too much and throwing the foreground out of focus. I was hoping to capture the pleasing feel of autumn, and I think this one does in spades.

This makes it more edgy and artsy, but loses the autumn warmth. (which is a bit of an oxymoron, isn't it?)

Wide angle. My lens is 28-105mm, and backed off to 28, it creates a slight "fisheye" distortion. Usually, this is an annoyance, but I kinda like it here. I'm pleased with how this turned out.

Another fire escape. Shocker.

Isn't this the cutest little place? I never noticed it before, and dearly wish I had some money to have stopped in.

Rusty parking lot sign. I made this one b&w, but it just didn't look right.

Original. I love how it looks like God took a huge meat cleaver and chopped the building on the right in half.

Aside from the modern Kettering, Meadwest Vaco, and Schuster Center towers in the background, this looks like something from the 40's or 50's. Do you think I made it too dark?

Desaturated, and then faded the desaturate by about 70%. Gives it a nice gritty urban edge.

I love this old building. It's actually right next to the one where I took this photo back in May. You can see it on the right edge of this picture.

Alley behind Canal St. Tavern, probably Dayton's foremost venue for live local talent. Note the truck delivering kegs. :-) What caught me was how warm this looked despite the cloudy day, and something about it screams New York. Maybe it's the fire escape, I've got a thing for them. I always wanted an urban apartment that had a window leading to a fire escape to use as a porch on warm nights, like Meg Ryan's in "Kate and Leopold".

A little further down. The big fan caught my attention.

Took this with the intention of making it black and white.

This is what I had in mind.

100% contrast of the properly exposed one (below).

Properly exposed, with the meter pointed at the sky.

Overexposed two f-stops.

Empty fountain. I hopped in a sat down on the drain at the end. Intentionally placed the top edge to split the frame down the center.

Original

Again, shifting the cyan to red, and bumping up the brightness a bit.

In a recent post, Nan tagged me to write about my idiosyncrasies. First off, I'm not 100% sure what an idiosyncrasy really is. A quick check of dictionary.com reveals the following definitions:

1. A structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group.
2. A physiological or temperamental peculiarity.
3. An unusual individual reaction to food or a drug.

In other words, list my quirks. Hmmm... ok... for starters, as a group characteristic, where I'm from we say "pop" instead of "soda" like the rest of the planet.

I am weird about backwash, and can't stand sharing a pop can, bottle, straw, or glass rim, yet I will tolerate (and actually quite enjoy) a tongue in my mouth.

Any insect that flies and stings frightens me like a little child. We're talking big-yellow-stripe-down-the-back DREAD. Total chicken.

For all my outgoing-ness, I am embarrassed to be seen singing in the car by other drivers. When I think nobody is looking, I really act out the emotions of the lyrics. I only sing when alone in the car.

The public singing inhibition drops with the addition of alcohol and/or a karaoke microphone.

An entire pound of cold cut turkey will only be used for one, maybe two sandwiches. The rest gets eaten out of the fridge, usually wrapped in a slice of cheese, preferrably co-jack.

Thunderstorms make me horny.

In a pinch, I will re-use (hesitantly) yesterday's pair of socks, yet I will never, ever, ever re-wear yesterday's t-shirt because it's "dirty".

Then I'll go and smash down over my clean hair the same ballcap I've been sweating in for days.

Often at work, I will go to the bathroom and sit silently in a stall just because I need a moment of privacy where nobody can look at me. Sometimes I need simply to be not looked at.

There are people at work I trust with my deepest, darkest personal secrets, and yet I'm scared to death to ask if I can take their picture.

I say that I don't like cheap beer, and then turn around and buy a couple of those $.99 24 oz. cans of Steel Reserve High Gravity Lager.

There's more, but that's a good taste of my quirks. As for the food reactions, give me a sip of pure cranberry or pomegranate juice, and watch the convulsive demented monkey dance I do for the next 45 seconds.

Over the last couple of days, I've just lost my will to write. Sure, things have been happening, but I just don't feel like documenting them. For instance, Wednesday I walked all around downtown Dayton snapping pictures (knocked out four rolls) and talking to people like a photographer with a gallery in the Oregon District, and the people at the Dayton Visual Arts Center. Picked up one roll yesterday, and it's got a couple good shots. I'll post them probably tonight.

That, and stuff about the other Angela that I just met, and me sticking out like a sore thumb at a trendy New York City style martini bar. But! But, but, but.... lest I be too much of a downer, I leave you with this:

Yesterday at work, I was out back assembling snow throwers. I realized that when I'm alone, I talk to myself. Nothing strange there, except that when I do talk to myself, it's in this weird quasi-Scottish/Irish/British accent.

Speaking of anonymity... sitemeter just whispered to me that I have a repeat visitor from North Dakota State University. Say hi sometime, we'd love to hear from you! I'll start:

"Hi up there!"

---

Suddenly reminded of the old Air Force rhyme about Minot AFB in North Dakota:

"Why not Minot? Freezin's the reason."

(Minot pronounced 'my knot', not 'me know' as I of the took-French-in-high-school persuasion was first inclined)

---



Redneck Neighbor pulled up just as I was getting my mail. You know, I could identify him as "Ted", his name, but 'redneck neighbor' is just so much more colorful. Really sparks the mental images, doesn't it? His personality is so much like Diedrich Bader in Office Space, it's hilarious. Aside from being clean cut and shaven, he's not really a country/western redneck, but a hard working, blue collar, irascible, generous, and good natured guy. Anyway, up he pulls and slaps a Bud can down on his roof before getting out. We get to talking, and he tosses me an ice cold can out of his just-purchased 18-pack. He keeps feeding me cans as we talk, and I now have a nice mild buzz as I type this. What a guy. I should call him Lawrence and see if he gets it.

Found Photos

I came across this picture on this gallery of the Found Photos website. I've seen it several times before, but this time it really touched me just how cute it is.



That is what I need. That moment. Right there. That perfectly whimsical moment when the feet of somebody I care so much for it hurts peek out from under the covers next to mine. What turned me the most green about Steff's post is not the sex, but the line where she says "New Dude and I were laughing in bed". In my imagination, the people to whom the feet belong were laying there, snug up against each other, giggling for hours, and never wanting to get out from under the blanket.

Makes me think of this hallmark card that shows and elderly couple in gaudy pajamas jumping on a couch like a trampoline, and on the inside it said "I can't wait to grow old and nutty with you." I wanted to buy and frame that card.

---

Started a new blog tracking my weekly weigh-ins using the pallet scale at Stillwater.

And now, the long-awaited pictures from the Yellow Springs street fair, of course minus Dave Chappelle, which Angela kept giving me hell over the phone tonight for not getting his picture. :-) This is the photographer I talked about meeting. His name is David Potts. You can see his photographic style is a lot like mine. Actually, this was the last exposure on the roll, and I was walking past on the way to the car. I said that I had one left on the roll, and asked if I could I take his picture.

It was really chilly, and the tall redheaded lady had just wrapped her girlfriend in the blanket. I thought that was so sweet.

Window. You can't read in this lo-res version, but the sticker in the window says "Department of Peace". I just thought that was pure Yellow Springs.

Big ol' grill.

More hustle and bustle. Really, I just wanted a picture that had the "HaHa Pizza" sign in it, but the couple holding hands is sweet.

Musical act. The dude on that toy keyboard/harmonica thingy could really play the crap out of it.

Shot of the street fair

Street act. I swear, I didn't notice the lady with the nice butt until after looking at the print. What a happy accident. :-)

I forget her name, but she was the sweetest dog.

Hustle and bustle, and a chick selling t-shirts dissing Bush. Right after I took this, she asked me if I wanted to buy one. I had spent all I wanted by then, but asked if I could take her picture, and she didn't want me to. Oops.

This flower was so brilliant, I swear it could've been glowing in the dark.

Beginning of the fall color

Fall colors just beginning to peek through.

Glass figurine

Glass figurine

Glass figurine.

Close up!

Far away!

I like the colors.

Can't do Yellow Springs without the tie-dye.

Dude looking at me like "why the hell are you taking my picture?" I'm thinking "why the hell are you just sitting on a porch playing a drum?"

Drove to Dad's house last night. It was nice to see him again.

Came back home around 1pm today and took a desperately needed shower. Friday, I didn't shower after work because I knew I'd be at a smoky bar, and figured I'd shower sometime Saturday. Saturday, I was busy from the minute I woke up. Dad smokes, and I always reek after being at his place, so I held off until I got home today.

Stop making that face. :-) Normally I bathe every day.

---

Today, I decided to take myself out on a date. Called Angela to see if she wanted to go, but she had her cell phone turned off. (hint, hint!) I went and saw the new Wallace and Grommit movie. What a great little flick, chock full of dry and innuendo-laced British humor. Great time there, despite the projector bulb overheating and shutting off twice during the length. (and with no refund offer. bastards.) I did feel a little weird, though, being a lone adult male sitting in a childrens' movie. I think I'll email Orbling and ask if "veg" is slang over there for anything racy, because throughout the movie I felt like there was an inside joke I was missing.

Afterward, I went to Little Professor Books and out of the several photography magazines they carried, I picked the one titled "Shutterbug". How could I pass it up with a name like that? ;-) Went to the attached Winan's coffee shop, but shortly after I sat down, they closed. The girl working the counter was very polite and said I didn't have to get up, but I've been in food service. When we closed, I wished the stragglers would get the fuck out. Walked over to Cassano's Pizza (a local chain based out of Dayton) a door or two down with coffee in hand and finished the magazine over a turkey panini sandwich.

I haven't done that since the mid-90's, and I can't tell you how nice it felt to be by myself for a bit. I think it would've been wonderful to have somebody with me, but at the same time I wouldn't've been able to just drift off into Andyland. That's why I am looking so forward to being single, ample opportunities to spend time both by myself and with friends.

---

I feel loved.

---

Everybody has more sex than me.

(title of a flash animation I watched the other day.)

Went to the Yellow Springs Street Fair today. Having just picked up the money from doing Stillwater, I participated in a bit of retail therapy. In a nutshell: 1) Bought a walking stick because my back started getting sore, and it radiated down to my leg. The dude had a sign that said "$10 - $20", and he had the sticks and then shorter canes. I asked if he'd sell me the stick for $10, which he agreed to with no problem. Much needed relief. 2) Amethyst necklace. $6. I like purple. 3) Trendy fleece-lined hippie knit cap with ear flaps and dangly things. Again, different shades of purple. It was chilly today, and my ears were cold. Plus, I wanted something funkier than my Carhartt knit cap. 4) A $10 hemp belt because my pants kept slipping down.

Killed an entire roll of film, and you're probably not going to believe this, but I walked past Dave Chappelle. Recall, Yellow Springs is his home town. I even had camera in hand, but it looked like he was with family, and I didn't want to bug him. God, I blew that opportunity.

Struck up a conversation with a dude selling framed prints of his photography. He is from Troy as well. Told me he was thinking about getting an informal group together to meet at Night Sky coffee house and talk photography. I gave him the link to my flickr page and asked if he'd give some honest critiques. Mentioned he should check out my contacts as well.

Stopped by the shop that gave me the polished flourite stone earlier this year, and even though different people were working, I showed them the necklace (which I had left at Mr. Reiki's a couple of months ago and picked up last night) and explained how I got it, and that the shop's generosity did not go unappreciated. Made me feel better to reciprocate the good will.

Ok, so now it's 9:30 am saturday morning, with the neon green band still around my wrist, and mercifully hangover-free. Tempted to delete that last post before too many people read it, I think it makes me look shallow. But, fuck, that's what this blog is... the sleeve upon which I wear my heart. Self-created drama and all. Really, last night had been planned for several weeks, so I had built up some hefty anticipations and hopes, and when they didn't pan out, I freaked like the girl at every high school party who goes off crying in the corner. Luna was even there. At the bar, I felt a familiar tug on my hair from behind. She told me "Dude, you shouldn't have waited so long! I'm with people tonight." And she was, alternating between writhing on the platform and dancing with some stiff who looked terribly uncomfortable out on the floor. I have to say, it made quite an amusing contrast watching him and her together.

Here's the kicker: Upon invitation, I stopped by Mr. Reiki's house before going to the club. I had my thrill for the evening. Bitch kept me there till after midnight. :-) Why couldn't I have hit the club, danced my ass off, and gone home satisfied? It's women. When I get that feelin'... I need a woman's healing touch, and nothing else will do. Sometimes I can be such a beggar and a chooser.

This makes me re-think the whole "bi" thing. Maybe I'm just a really super-duper open minded straight guy...? I don't know. I just wasn't in the mood. We started the night sitting there on his mattress watching tv. I think if he would've wanted to put on a movie and just curl up together watching it, I probably wouldn't've even gone to the club. That's what I need more than anything...

Guesss what? It's 2:30 saturday morning, and I'm home alone. I joked that since I met somebody hte first two times at Fusion, but couldn't do anything about it because I was playing chauffer for the night, that surely the third time would be a charm when Im' driving myself. I joked that watch I'll not make eve eye contact with a single person all night. Murphey's law, right?

Guess what. I didn't make fucking eye contact with anybody but the bartender. And I'm home. Alone. I take this as a sign. Give it up. When in the presence of othe rmen, I don't stand a fucking chance. Give it up.

At least I danced. I guess that's the real reason for being there anyway, it's a dance club, right? Not a fuck club. I don' tknow. What hte hell was I thinking? after a while I couldn't tak eit anmyore and I drove home before th buzz wore off. It's a wonder I mad eit home in one piece, all the way fromn dayton. I'm still drunk. I hate this. I hate this emptiness.

After a three week dry spell, Angela and I had our usual (and very much anticipated) beer 'n bitch fest at Avalanche. We drink beer and bitch about our lives to each other. One interesting offbeat happening, though. Long story short... I got to talking to a very attractive lady, and had a most excellent conversation with her. We even exchanged email addresses (and I gave her this blog. Her handwritinging is pretty clear, and her name is spelled Angella. Hi Angella!) It wasn't some "ooh, baby" conversation, either. Is there anything better than two people who, desperately needing to purge shit off their chests (and under the protection of the relative anonymity of talking to a stranger), just spill the beans to each other. I mean, we told each other some really freakin personal stuff, and you could just sense the relief between us. What a pleasant evening.

---

On the drive home, I had to stop for gas. At the station, Angela had struck up a conversation with a guy in an Army windbreaker. We get to talking, and it turns out he just got back from Fallujah for a four day leave before shipping back off to Baghdad. He was going to spend the time with his six year old son.

I can't begin to comprehend how intensely that has to hurt, how it must be almost like a dream... to spend months in a desert on the other side of the planet, only to come back to America for four days before returning to that hell. I can't imagine how I'd panic trying to get in everything I'd want to do. This guy was front-line hardcore shit, too. He had one very graphic story I'm not going to relate here. I asked him what he thought of Bush and the Iraq war. He being enlisted and Bush being his Commander in Chief, I understand he couldn't say anything bad about him, but he did say that we have absolutely no business being there.

He's over there dodging grenades and gunfire everyday for a cause that's lost on the soldiers defending it. Every day he wonders if his son will grow up with or without a daddy.

And all he gets is four fucking days, and the profuse admiration and gratitude from two kids driving home in the middle of the night who suddenly realize just what an almost unfair blessing it is to live the cushy lives that we do.

Here's the photos I mentioned taking the other morning. I only had a 12-exposure sample roll of Kodak 400 Ultra Color, but I could've burnt off rolls of film bracketing exposures and getting different misty landscapes. Honestly, I wonder just how "ultra" this color is compared to if I used good ol Gold 200 or my fav Hi-Def 400. These first few were taken off of Michaels Rd. in the parking lot of a township garage building.

Underexposed 1.5 f-stops.

Horizontal

Proper exposure. Would you believe that this was taken in the same light as the others? What a huge difference it makes when you're not setting the exposure for the light source itself.

Underexposed 1.5 f-stops.

After turning onto 25-A from Michaels, the sky really turned the most amazing shades. I had to pull over in the parking lot of a little office building overlooking a field. This one was properly exposed. I really almost like the foreground in this better than the sky.

Underexposed 1.5 f-stops. This really made the color in the sky pop, but obscured the foreground.

Horizontal shot of the field.

Zoomed in a little

This one was from my parking lot at home the previous day. There were a couple of others, but they didn't expose right, and washed the colors out.

When I signed up to go into the Air Force back in 1997, I was 30 pounds overweight. I have always been a bit of a chunk, and chocolate and baked sweets (and simply overeating in general) have always been my downfall, preventing me from losing weight. Sure, I always wanted to look better or lose the belly a little, but those were such vague objectives they never panned out. Armed with a sharply focused purpose, though, I quit eating junk food cold-turkey, started eating a lot of Subway (before that Jared guy got famous), and lost that 30 pounds in about four months.

Normally, when I get hungry, I get panicky and scramble for anything nearby that I can stuff in my mouth. Back then, I decided to own my munchies instead of letting them own me. I took the urge to snack as a challenge, like my stomach was calling me a chump. I am nobody's chump, so I revelled in my hunger like a prisoner holding his head high, refusing to let his spirit be trampled. The pounds melted off.

I am now at the second heaviest point I've ever been at. I sigh heavily when bending over to tie my shoes when sitting. On the pallet scale at Stillwater, I weigh myself each week to watch for any upward or downward trends. The last several months, week after week, it's been the same: 265, 265, 265...

Two days ago I cut the crap out of my diet, and today I really looked back at my attitudes back in 97, and re-discovered the feelings I just shared with you. I now have a crystal clear purpose for taking the excess bulk off. It's taken me a while to believe it, to admit it to myself, but there is somebody who wants to meet me, and in December, I'm flying out to visit with her for a week. I want to be as least overweight as possible. I'll always be a big guy, but right now I'm just too damned big.

Food used to be my comfort. Now, as I sit here with a massive case of the munchies despite a substantial and nutritious dinner, I realize that I own my goddamned urge to eat, not the other way around. When I need comfort, I think of the girl I'm going to visit, and am overcome with a fresh wave of courage and hope.

Tonight at Stillwater, I think due to the fact that I just don't have nearly as much raw food in my digestive system, the scale read 262 for the first time since spring.

Here's to hoping we dip into the 250's by next week.

For the last several weeks, it's been making me crazy when I drive to drop Caro off each morning. En route, the skies have been these amazing firey glowing sunrises, but by the time I make my way back, they've diluted into a normal morning sky. Well... as time and seasons march on, it's gotten to the point where the sky is, shall we say, underexposed on the way, and perfectly glowing as I'm returning.

It's muggy here in Ohio, and especially so in this gouge left by a glacier a couple of years ago known as the Miami Valley. Mist likes to blanket the fields in the early am. Today, I pulled over twice and whipped out the tripod and camera. Too bad all I had was a little 12-exposure trial roll of Kodak UC 400, I could've easily taken twice as many.

You know you've taken a good photo, though, when after you snap the shutter, you still gaze through the viewfinder for a couple of seconds admiring the scene. Tried the trick of underexposing the shots for a slightly darker and edgier effect, as my camera tends to brighten things way up on shots it meters as correct exposure. Here's to hoping my gamble paid off.

Fun stuff tonight. So I pick up sandwiches at Penn Station, a local chain originating from Cincy but radiating outward like fallout from a deli meltdown. Off to Meijer for some chips, and as I'm walking out, lo and behold, I hear an exclaimation of "Andy!" It's the Incoherency Inducing Cashier (IIC) from work, and she has an equally strikingly attractive friend with her. "Whatcha doing?" she says. "Oh.. chips for dinner. Sandwiches from Penn Station. It's an addiction." I mumble with an awkward smile. She introduces me to her friend, and I extend my hand for a nice firm handshake. A few lines of chitchat later, and we parted. I glanced backward, hoping to catch the same from either of them, but to no avail.

I was in my goofy charming zone, though. I just got out of the shower before leaving, so my hair was laying nice and wavy, and I had on beat up shorts and a t-shirt featuring Spongebob in his underwear. I rock the nerd house.

---

Speaking of charming nerds, I just re-watched one of the most brilliant movies ever put on film: Big Trouble. I first saw it a couple of years ago, and it's one of those star-studded, big name ensemble cast, never-heard-of movies. Anyway, I saw Hitchhiker's Guide a week or so ago, and fell in love with Zooey Deschanel. How can you not be charmed by her whole big wide-eyed, brunette, hint of a lisp, small pointy breasts, slightly dorky appeal? I'm watching Big Trouble and thinking to myself "Self, isn't the chick with the overly-nasalized, under-inflected, and slightly (but appropriate to the character) monotonously deadpan line delivery the same one from Hitchhiker's Guide?"



One quick check of www.imdb.com, and sho 'nuff, it's her. Zooey Deschanel. It's like Fred said to Velma in the first Scooby movie: "Dorky chicks like you turn me on!"

Sigh.

I was going to let the previous (more thought provoking and touchy-feely) post marinate for awhile and get a comment or two, but I just have to get this shit off my chest. I have some good news and some bad news:

Good - I just assembled an 8'x10' shed for one of the ladies I work with. Her husband isn't quite sure which end of the screwdriver to hit the nail with. Of course, I agree with the promise of payment. Previously, I've gone to her place and assembled two armoirs for her. (no, it's not that kind of visit. Yes, she's pretty, but happily married) Long story short, I her husband gave me $100, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a bag of home grown roma tomatoes.

Bad - I got pulled over for turning at a "no right turn on red" intersection.

Good - I can now pay off the outstanding balance of my citation for crashing The Mirthmobile.

Bad - My court date is Oct. 11 for the improper turn.

Good - He didn't smell the bottle of beer on my breath.

---

I dropped off my pictures from last night at Wal-Mart. Naturally, when I take photos of benign crap, they turn into photographic gold. When I make an effort to take a decent picture, it turns out nine kinds of fucked up... and so turned out most of my pictures of Stephanie Westfall and the Danny Voris Project.



This is me in the parking lot at Wal-Mart in the Mirthmobile with one exposure left on the roll, and no good idea what to do with it.

---



This is The Danny Voris Project playing at Oktoberfest.

---

Texas Gurl tagged me with the following email:

1. Go into your blog's archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

Well, my 23rd post is only two sentences, so I opted for the fifth line of my 24th post: I once read a bumper sticker, though, that said "All acts of love and kindness are my religion." But, variety being the spice of life, I will give you the second and final line of my 23rd post as well:
"Someone from your past has returned to steal your heart." I'm cool like that.

I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see, wanna see them dancing.

Went to the Dayton Art Institute's Oktoberfest with Caro, her mom, and her mom's man. Despite several offers, I was driving, so I drank only one watered-down beer. I mean, how lame is that when I, a total lightweight when it comes to drinking, downs a cup of beer on an empty stomach and doesn't even get a hint of a buzz? Besides, I just wasn't in the mood for alcohol. I wanted to keep a clear head for a particular phone call I'd been looking forward to.

Anyway... as we get there, we're snaking our way through the crowd when I hear a familiar voice singing a familiar song... Holy Shit! It's Stephanie! (oh, yeah, and the rest of the Danny Voris Project too) Immediately, it was like the Pied Piper... I just beelined brainlessly toward the sound. I finally got a few pictures of the band. Anyway, she sings one more song and then heads off the stage. I walk around back to say hi to her, and when she sees me, she gives me the "Heeeeeey! What are you doing here?" and a big hug. We chitchat for a bit, but then the band is invited for an encore song which I shoo her off to the stage for and then sit in the audience to get another good photo or two. Good times. I would almost swear she seemed happy to see me.

---

Saturdays on NPR they play a show called "This American Life". Today, the host was talking about watching Disney's "Snow White" for the first time as an adult, and how much he thought it was like an opera with the characters all entering movie with songs about themselves. He mentioned this to his sister who works for Disney, and she said that it's not opera. It's called the "I wish" song, and nearly every musical has one where the main character is introduced with a song identifying their wants, thus establishing their motivations and the story line.

Anyway, this struck me as a bit of an analogy for my life, as the character of Andy is on the threshold of being introduced to the world.

The much-anticipated phone call tonight was with Texas Gurl. I was standing out in my parking lot talking to her when this incredibly bright shooting star streaked across the sky. I told her about it, and she asked if I made a wish. I told her I'm not sure yet what to wish for.

I have yet to sing my "I wish" song. Readers, what lyrics do yours contain?

---

Also, in talking to Texas Gurl, she mentioned my post a week or so ago about the "one night snuggle stand", but she mistakenly called it my "snuggle slut" post. What a wonderful phrase she coined... snuggle slut. That's exactly what I am. Right at this very moment, sex is a far far secondary urge to the need for the warm feeling of another body held against mine. Ugh. I hate this empty feeling.