What a screwed up St Pat's

It started off well enough. I was really excited to get out and drink. I met most of my friends there and brought one from work with me. This guy, Wes, and I hung out for a couple hours drinking and talking with folks there. Loads of good looking women. Man, it started out well.

Then something happened. We decided to go get some food up the street. Well, on the way across the street, Wes decides to kick this parked Acura. I dunno...some weird gangsta shit, I guess. Well, the person who owned it was walking up the sidewalk and her and her friend saw the whole thing. Wes told me to hurry up and get in my Jeep. Well, the two girls ran over and started asking questions. Understandable. Wes just got in the Jeep and sat there. I walked to the back of the Jeep to hear her say she's calling the cops and that her Dad is a CSPD sergeant. Sweet. The wrong car to kick. Actually, they all are, but you know what I mean. Well, the po-po shows up (3 cars) and starts asking questions of the 3 of us, but not before talking to this girl like she was an old friend of theirs. Hell, she probably is. Anyway, I tell the cops the little bit that I saw. Actually, Wes was behind me when we walked out of the pub so I really didn't see anything. But I heard it. I give them all of my info and they ask where Wes is. So I tell them. They open the door and handcuff him and put him in one of the cop cars. What the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't do anything.

But I know he's hating me right now. Like I ratted him out or didn't defend him. Well, I didn't defend him. Not only because that would be the wrong thing to do in this case. But because there was no hope for him getting out of this. It's not like he got in a fight with someone that deserved and ass-whooping. He kicked some girl's car. Duh.

So I have been stressing about this all day and I don't really know why.

In other news, my parents are saying all of their goodbyes and met up with someone from my past yesterday. My Ex from college and after, Maggie. They met and ate lunch and talked for a couple hours. So much information got exchanged, I imagine. But I like the little bit that my folks told me. The Oat is doing really well. That was our fluffy black Maine Coon that we got when we moved out here. She has developed this habit of walking into Maggie's bedroom and nibbling on her face to wake her up. I can see the Oat doing that so clearly I almost cry. And Maggie said she thinks about me and sometimes misses me. She also misses being out West. That makes me smile. She is doing really well, still painting and looking like a beautiful redheaded artist. I am so completely happy for her.

But now I can't stop thinking about her. Dammit. I wonder if I ever really got over her.

Well, I gotta go eat some food and take a shower. I'm still a little tired and groggy from last night. So, off I go.

Nite, kids.

-Rich

Things to remember....

Not too long ago, I actually contemplated the massive undertaking of documenting my life. I wanted to write down every memory I had. Then I could put them into some kind of chronological order. I used to think that the Kant-ish logic embedded in my life would come in handy for that, prohibiting too much of the subjective hogwash that precludes most autobiographical processes. Now I know that such thoughts are evidence of that subjectivity that I thought I was avoiding. I do so enjoy life when it comes full circle. It is impossible to run away from something...the more thought you put to something, the more it manifests itself in your life. Kinda like the Ourobouros. Hence my arm tattoo.

Some things to remember that I found in a little purple "journal".

1) The first time I had dogs in my Jeep. It was late at night after the Nocturnal Tomatoes finished playing. The bar owner wasn't around and they needed paid. So we packed up the two dogs in the Jeep and went down to the pub to cut them a check.

2) A bracelet made entirely of the chains that came with the Bass spoons.

3) A great bottle of Brunello di Montalcino that got smashed sometime in the night after lasagna. The grout in her floor is still stained red.

That is why I like interacting with people so much. The little slices of life that come vibrantly alive again with each remembrance. I try to write down the details as best I can, to keep the spirit of the moment alive. I recall a project we had in Freshman Foundation at Alfred. We needed to make a vessel. Well, I made a large vase-shape out of photographs. It told a story, like some ancient tower. It went from the bottom up. It was all photos I took, mostly in high school. Photos are containers. Criminals of sorts. They take a moment and capture it. It is forever preserved with that immediate taint. Sometimes it's more fun to remember things as we do, and not necessarily how they actually were. Similar, I guess, to a game of telephone. So the container remained empty. Lots of other kids filled (or partially so) their containers. I remember the one professor Jesse Schefrin asked me what I would put in there, if I were asked to fill it. I told her it already is filled with everything that belongs in there. She asked me to clarify, so I told her that if you look inside you see the blank white backing of the photos. It's a blank canvas that I filled, in my head, with my own feelings about each photo.I thought it sounded good. I remember her little smile-smirk. I didn't know it then, but that meant she liked it.

Something else to ponder:

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610, 987

OK. Here's a little homework. Tell me the next 3 numbers in this sequence, and what the sequence is named.

On that note, I'll let my mind spiral off to sleep. Nite, kids.

-Rich

Cleaning out the office...

So I was cleaning out all kinds of papers and stuff from my "office" space at work and came across this piece of paper with a neat little question written on it. Not sure when I wrote it, but it still is quite tasty:

"Is it fear of hurting someone that prevents me from speaking or writing what's on my mind? Or is it my conscience warning me?"

OK. I'll write more later. I cant IM and make a mix CD and blog at the same time!!!

-Rich

One last thing:

Someone sent me a series of text messages last night while I was out being a drunken sod. One message in particular strikes me in a great light today. She wrote: "Humanity cannot compare to a purring cat."

Such a brilliant and concise summary of emotion and philosophy. I really do love those words. Last night, as I was, it didn't hit me so sweetly. Now it does.

Thanks for bedazzling me hours later. See? There are some exceptional beings on this planet.

-Rich

Lazy Saturday...

I should be changing the front brakes on my Jeep, but I got a little too sauced last night. I am just now beginning to feel like I usually do. I decided to cook some rice and start there. I watched a lot of crap TV this morning, as I have a habit of getting some sleep and never being able to sleep much past 7. That might be because Aidan has taken to roaming the house, belting out his good morning chant in his loudest voice. Once I actually get out of bed and let the sweet little monster outside, there is really no point in returning to bed. The other cats are now wide awake, as am I. The thought of returning to be is met with the reality that the cats would prevent slumber.

So now, there is a playlist running its course and saffron seeping its way into my rice. I need to shave. I did have some dreams last night. I remember them. Well, parts. It seems I had a dream about the pub. It was a little while into the future and the regulars were still there. Shawn was there, which is how I know it was a dream. One of those that will definitely not play out in the real world. We were all smiling and laughing, and I had this amazing feeling. I guess it was a brief glimpse of clarity. I saw myself. I was proud. I know, sounds odd. Here I am, paying too much money for beer and whiskey, hanging out with people that I have never been in the sunlight with. But I was proud. And I awoke with that pride. I guess it's been a little while since I felt like things were going well in my life. Last year really had a lot of delightful things. This year has yet to blossom for me. Maybe last night's dream was a sign.

I never went into much detail about my Taos trip. Mainly because it is something I kinda wish never happened. It sounds bad. I can't really explain yet. I need to get some distance and perspective first. I hope that makes sense. Because it does in my head. Taos is such a beautiful place, rife with opportunity and treats for the eyes and soul. And I feel like I squandered that.

On a happy note, I like the trends I have placed myself in. Getting back into shape and eating better. The pub really doesn't fit into that too well. Some would see this as a chance for me to pipe up and ask those I enjoy to spend some time outside of the pub. I'll have to give some thought to that.

I love the smell of rice. The look in a cat's eyes when you wake them up by petting them, because you just can't stand how cute they are and you have to ruin it. The taste of goat cheese on a steak with sundried tomatoes. Penfold's Koonunga Hill Cab Merlot. Cold water rushing down a waterfall pounding on my back back in my college days, listening to David playing Van Morisson's "Brown Eyed Girl". Waking up in a tent to the soothing sounds of the nature we often forget about. Rolling ove in bed to find that someone is there, and not just someone...someone you love.

I've never been one for a one night stand. I have a lot of "friends" that consider that weird behavior. What works for them, just doesn't fit into my life and I feel great about that. I adore the fact that if I find myself in the embrace of a woman, it's a woman that I don't wish to leave the sight of.

OK, my rice is done and hopefully I have sated you for a spell longer.

-Rich

Marching forward...

Home from the pub...and I have a web address that I can still actually read!

Though a couple of the patrons declared that they would wish me to stay, I declined. Some parts of me hate my day job...that "must get up at 5:30" crap. I have some things to deal with that I wish I didn't. Dont we all?

So, here I sit...waiting for dinner to finish cooking. Wondering if the hangover will manifest itself. Usually it doesn't. But tomorrow might be a brand new day.

Here's to Jenn and Biff and Shawn. The 3 that kept me smiling all night. Just when I thought the night would end, Jenn (2 n's?) rolls up and claims a stool.

And so Asparagus P Fartblaster is tagged. Those in the know, know.

And I love you for it. OK. I have to go to eat and sleep now. Yes, time for food, then bed. Nite, kids...I love you all.

-Rich