As God as my witness I hereby declare to all the care: No more cheese for me. None. Do not feed me cheese.
I do not cherish sitting in the bathroom for a good chunk of my lunch hour. I’ll refrain from further description.
That is all.
Techno Bed.
Earl is sound asleep next to me. I’m snuggled up in the covers, refusing to turn the heat on even though the weatherman has issued a frost warning for tonight. It’s easier to add another blanket instead of forking out a lot of cash to Niagara Mohawk (utility company). I have the computer and a cat in bed with me (in addition to Earl) The cat is not Xena, though she let me pet her once before hissing today. We are making progress. As a kind gesture I made a little cat bed with an old comforter for her. She enjoys resting on it, paws crossed in a pristine way.
My sister is asleep with her son in the back bedroom. He is growing like crazy. At three weeks old he’s discovering his sight and looking at various toys with interest. The miracle of life is truly amazing. My sister has a good sense of humour. I tell Dylan (her son) that the milk truck is coming and I call my sister Byrne Dairy (local dairy company). It’s all in jest. She laughs. My sister has always laughs at my jokes. Even when we were little.
My aunt and cousin came to visit this evening. They brought along a casserole that my uncle made. He’s recently retired. Apparently he’s becoming intimate with the ways of Rachel Ray. The casserole was good. The company was enjoyable.
Lying in bed I’m chatting on the computer and sending text messages back and forth to dave and greg. It’s what I do. The internet has afforded me the opportunity to make important connections in my life. Most don’t understand. I cherish those that do.
I’ve never written those blog entries that I formulate in my head whilst on my bike. I should really sit down in a quiet corner and write them all down and then post them when the mood strikes. So many things to blog about: spirituality, love, monogamy, sex, exploration, politics. Are we sick of politics yet? I believe I am. It’s not a game I enjoy watching. Few take it seriously. So much at stake.
Today began the experiment of recreating the Big Bang in Switzerland. Particles whizzed in one direction at seven per cent of the capacity of the machine. When we reach one hundred per cent and send two particles in opposite directions, only to collide with one another is when it’ll get interesting. But today they learned that what they’ve spent 30 years building works. Let’s hope there’s not another Big Bang as a result.
Earl is still sound asleep, oblivious to the soft clicking of the keyboard on my Mac. I look at him and smile. He still gets me. Few do. He gives me room to grow. He encourages me to explore, to seek, to spread my wings. It’s something I’ll always cherish.
Aunt Sissy.
The year was 1996. It was my second or third visit to my future in-laws and shortly after Earl’s “big announcement”. Said announcement included the fact that the buddy he brought along the preceding Labor Day was more than a buddy, not only did we bounced bellies at football games but we bounced bellies (amongst other things) in bed too.
Anyway, it was a family gathering of some sort and I was meeting everyone for the first time; cousins, aunts, uncles, all sorts of relatives from all branches of the family tree were mangling my initials in all sorts of ways. I didn’t mind, I figured all was well if they were speaking to me and not spitting on me. I guess I’m easy to please.
Earl introduced me to a short, wild haired woman who looked like she really knew how to live life. “Hey Glad-ie”, he said to her before introducing me, “This is my Aunt Sissy.”
Aunt Sissy. At 73 or so years old at the time she was obviously the free spirit the cover of her book portrayed; she’d been through three husbands, three continents, countless bingo cards and an unmeasurable number of cigarettes. Her stature was short but her heart was obviously big. She grabbed my face and pulled it down to her face and gave me a big kiss on the lips, “Hello John!”. We have a winner, she got my name right.
She turned to Earl. “I hear you got a new car!” Earl had just bought a Hyundai Elantra.
“Yep.”
“Is it a convertible?”, she barked out. Aunt Sissy always talked loud.
“No, why?”
“I had a convertible once. A FRENCH convertible”, she said. “The top doesn’t go down but the driver does.”
Aunt Sissy shared that story, amongst a bunch of others, with us several times for next 12 years.
Last night we made the trek down to near Philadelphia to attend Aunt Sissy’s memorial service. She was 84 years old. She died of lung cancer.
Rest In Peace, Aunt Sissy. Enjoy the ride in your new convertible.
The Cleaning Out The Closet Thing.
Earl and I have been busy cleaning out our closets this weekend. I’ve needed new work clothes for a while, but I was told that I couldn’t buy any new clothes until I cleaned out at least 20 items from my closet. It turns out I cleaned out over 60 items in my closet, as I decided to go crazy and throw out anything I hadn’t worn in at least a year or more.
One particular group of items that I got rid of was my safety net or my “fat clothes”. This wide (no pun intended) selection of clothes was from my days when I was 40 pounds heavier. I no longer have a need for them so there’s no sense in having them there as a safety blanket for the occasion where I might gain some of my weight back. I think this helps my subconscious mind get into the groove that I’m sticking to that whole healthy thing so out they went, along with many t-shirts, jeans and other odds and ends that I won’t wear anymore.
We ended up shopping at JC Penney for new clothes as they were having a sale that involved buying a pair of pants at regular price and getting any regularly priced shirt for a dollar. That was a really good deal. I have a new selection of clothing that I’ll be modeling over the next couple of blog entries. No longer will I have to wear khakis that have a fringe on the bottom from excessive wear and I have banished any and all pleats for the remainder of my life.
One extra bonus of cleaning out the closet was that I found my old “slut jeans” from my disco bunny days. I never thought they would fit as they are from an era when I had a size 31 inch waist but lo and behold, I was able to get into them without any sort of leaping and still be able to breathe. It was a very close call and they’re certainly not ready for primetime again by any stretch (ha, such wit!) but all snaps, buttons and zippers that were on them when I put them on were still in place when I took them off.
And there was much rejoicing.
Here’s a full on ass shot for those that couldn’t believe that I could bend over in these things.1
1 Nah, I’m just an attention whore.
Tracking Treasure Down.
I discovered this track on a DJ Feel mix1 I was listening to on the Thruway today. It’s two years old but I have to say I’m liking it a lot. This is definitely having an influence on the sound of my gigs lately.
This is Gabriel and Dresden, “Tracking Treasure Down”.
1 Thanks dave!
Purrfect.
This morning I woke up at 6 a.m. to a rumbling sound from my chest. Groggy from a late night, I went to give Tom a little push off my chest when I realised that I wasn’t at home, but rather at our friend greg’s house outside of New Haven, Connecticut. The rumbling sound was actually a very loud purr; it was Sybil and she decided to be a friendly native and make the houseguest feel welcome.
This is Sybil. She enjoys basking in the sun, eating grass from the lawn, staying within the confines of the property and eating an occasional chipmunk head. When asked “Why chipmunks?” she told me that they are lower in fat.
Official End of Summer.
So tonight was the official end of summer in these parts. Autumn doesn’t arrive for a few weeks, Labor Day has already passed but more importantly, tonight was the last Saranac Thursday Night of the season. I ended up going solo as Earl is out of town until Saturday.
I expected a bigger crowd and a more boisterous band tonight, but I got to hang with my buddies from work so all was well. Eye candy quotient was high, but I wasn’t able to get some photos due to darkness setting in too soon.
Now that the Saranac Thursday has wrapped up for 2008 I think I’ll be able to stick to my no beer policy for a few weeks as I continue to rebuild my body.
As the sun sets we raise a plastic cup full of cheap beer and toast to Schultz and Dooley. The 2008 season of Saranac Thursday was most enjoyable.
Witness.
Earl and I were talking about how bewildered my relatives must be by living with us here at our happy little home. I like to think that what I write on the blog is accurate as to what our life is like, but I could never write about everything that we do. I guess what I write about are little glimpses into our habits and lifestyle.
We are used to the two of us and the routine we’ve tweaked over the past 12 or so years. My relatives must find it odd that we spend hours in our basement pecking away at our computers or that I talk on my iPhone in the woods behind the house (where the cell reception is best).
No one has said “how odd” as Earl and I have progressed through our routines with a little audience, but it has made me step back and take a look at how we get through our daily life.
I like what I see.
Direction.
I haven’t been as chatty as usual in my blog. We’ve been busy enough: this weekend we went to the New York State Fair on Saturday (as evidenced by my ‘Top Spin’ video), yesterday we went to a weekend barbecue at our friends’ Al and Mike’s, which was quite delightful. Of course, Earl and I have had my relatives in and out of the house since the little guy was born two weeks ago. There’s a lot going on and all of it is good, I just haven’t felt inspired to write about it.
One thing about the New York State Fair: whomever came up with the idea of renting out those little motorized scooters to lazy fat people should be flogged and not in a pleasant manner. Broken limb? Handicapped? Maimed in a war? You should have all rights to one of those monstrosities. Eat McFat and smoke too much? I say walk or stay home.
I’ve been doing a lot of bike riding. I’ve ridden at least 25 km a day for the past week. I can confirm that it’s best if cyclists stick to the trails because motorists don’t give a fuck anymore and will just hit you whilst they chat on their cell phone, eat a McBomb and balance a cup of coffee in their crotch. I don’t know how bikers manage with their motorcycles1; in fact, a car pulled out in front of my father this past weekend (car didn’t even stop as he pulled out of a gas station parking lot); Dad went down with the bike trying to avoid the car that pulled out in front of him, the motorcycle landed on top of him. He came out of the ordeal o.k. (aside from a “good sanding” as he called it), but he was still rushed to the hospital. Drivers just don’t give a shit anymore. I feel it’s an accurate reflection of a shocking number of Americans. People don’t give a shit.
I feel like my blog should be something more than a journal of what I’m doing. There is some heavy stuff going on in the world today. This whole Anastacia Beaverhausen thing as McSame’s running mate is ridiculous. I could go off on that whole freak show but many others are doing it and I don’t want to just write “what he said!” I’m afraid that the sheeple are just going to lap it up along with all the other shit in Washington, D.C. these days. At least Obama talks about hope. Perhaps there is hope after all.
My sister came home from Wal*Mart (which is apparently WalMart* now but is still ‘Always White Trash, Always’) where she had to show her driver’s license to return something. The last thing I want to do is give my driver’s license to some surly WalMart* employee so they can record the information into their computer. People are entirely too cavalier with their personal information. Ironically, I talk about my life pretty openly right here on the tubes so what do I know.
1 Moby, dude, I’m glad to see you’re recovering seemingly well.
Top Spin.
Earl and I are just getting home from the New York State Fair. I have several pictures to share and tales to spin, but I thought I would share my video first.
Every year I ride just one ride on the midway, and that ride is called the “Top Spin”. This year I took my video camera along for the ride.
The man running the ride gave us an extra spin, so there’s an edit. You’ll see that we rode for nearly five minutes.
I am not the one screaming like a girl.
