The Once And Future King

Oh boy.

Gotta love days like this, if for no other reason than that no one else will.

So last night was fun. Nothing over the top, but fun.

Jere and House are doing something up at Buffalo Wild Wings at the Palisades tonight. Some sort of chicken eating contest or another. I was thinking about tagging along for that. They're cracking at their list and I think it's going really well. It's an admirable thing they're doing. Jere is hanging in there in general and House seems to be doing pretty well, from the looks of it he's doing a hell of a lot better at losing weight than I am. Good for him.

Michelle called last night and asked if I wanted to go to a party in the city tonight. Party and City are two words that should never come together in the same thought for me. I love New York on my own terms. Usually that involves being in the least crowded places I can find. I begged out, but said I'd go if no one else is around to go. I'm glad Michelle and are I tight enough still that she'd even consider inviting me. Sucks that I'm still not through the whole dealing with crowded places thing yet. I'm getting there though. God damn am I getting there.

Gonzo is back up tonight. Haven't seen him in months. He's doing something with his band and then he's supposed to be around for drinks. It's always a blast when Gonzo is around. There's always a great (or crude) story to tell after the fact. Even though he probably doesn't want me telling those stories. If I have to see your dick for no apparent reason every time you get drunk though I should, at the very least, get to tell stories about it. Fair play you know.

An "old friend" is around tonight too. I don't know why I bother using the slang anymore. Is there anyone who doesn't know what I'm talking about this time? I've got some cash to burn and really would like to have a drink and shoot the shit. But it just doesn't seem to be in the cards this week. And I'm pretty well booked the next few weekends as well. So who knows how long it will be if I don't make it by tonight.

The kids are around as well. I've got Danny with me right now actually. He's sitting five feet away from me going, "What are we doing? What are we doing? What are we doing?" I took him to Fuddrucker's, gave him a Red Bull, and told him he could drive a school bus. So I reckon it's sort of my fault he's bouncing off the walls.

And finally Mike, Alyssa, and Adge are around tonight. And this is the group I've decided to run with to start the evening. We're going to head up to Palisades for a movie. Slumdog Millionaire it looks like since I absolutely refuse to see Jonas Brothers in 3D ("How do you feel about seeing the Jonas Brothers movie?" "Suicidal?").

So there you go. I've got a half dozen things to do tonight. Then nothing to do after that. Sort of reminds me how back in the day the Yankees would score 15 runs in a game and people would say they should save a few for the next game because they'd inevitably only be able to muster one or two runs the next time around. But hey, you take what you can get when you can get it. And whatever I'm getting tonight I know will be pretty good. So off to the movies, then maybe meeting up with the guys, and then maybe even stopping by to visit an "old friend". How many birds can a man kill with one stone? We will see. Oh yes, we will see.

Wuzzhat?

Alright.

So.

Today went better than expected, in large part because some of the things I expected to come up were postponed till much much later. There was an interesting (and totally incorrect) number tossed around about the worth of the company. I'm hoping my father realized how ludicrous that number is and it doesn't become stuck in his head like so many things tend to do.

After the meeting (and an interesting dash that had me pulled over by a state trooper) we stopped for dinner. It went well, limited animosity, but it closed with my father telling a story that I've always known to be bullshit. He likes to tell a story about rushing home from a job in Canada to be with my mother after she had a miscarriage (this was a few years before I was born). The story always sounded like bullshit to me. My father didn't even make great attempts to be around when his kids were born nevermind when one wasn't. When he told this story today I almost called him on it. But decided not to. Neither the time nor the place, savvy?

So when I stopped by my mom's a little later I sort of casually mentioned it to her. To which she replied, "Is that what he's been saying all this time?"

Turns out my mother had already had the miscarriage, my father went to Canada anyway, and he was rushing back to check her out the hospital to go to his brother's wedding. My mother literally went directly from the hospital to the wedding.

That would have made a pretty good story in and of itself. But dad wouldn't have been the center of attention so that's not the story he tells.

Get out of dinner and spend a few minutes deliberating on what to do next. End up meeting a few of the guys at the bookstore then stopping in at Wizards. Run into Fish. First time post Antioch running into anyone. I don't hesitate to give him a hug standing in the middle of the bar. Shit. Maybe this year was different.

Totally forget I was supposed to try and visit an "old friend". Probably not too happy about that. Gonzo is supposed to be around tomorrow night for the first time in awhile. Might end up hanging out with him. Might end up in the city with Michelle. Might end up paying a visit. No idea. Just a bunch of mights. Nothing solid.

So anyway, it's getting late. I'm exhausted. Going to go home and watch some Galactica. Need to wake up tomorrow and get some treadmill time in then need to meet up with the Rookie for a bit.

Then hopefully Sunday will be something with the team. Hopefully.

Sooo...

Well this is going to be an interesting afternoon. If all goes well it will make for a nice quiet couple of days, if all goes poorly it will be something akin to the apocalypse. If you know my father you can probably guess how this is going to go. I'm ready for it though. So no worries.

Afterwards (if we're still talking to each other) we'll be going out for dinner for my father's birthday. After that there's bound to be something going on. If any of the guys are around I'll go out with them, if not I'll see if anyone else is around, if not then let's be serious here. This is me. I'll find something to do.

I reckon there will be a fair amount of yelling and screaming before this day is done. I also figure I probably won't be better off for it when it's done. But that doesn't really matter much, what matters is that I handle it the way it's supposed to be handled. And there's little doubt that I'll do anything but that.

Wish me luck.

Gas Station Nation & God Bless The IRS

Till We Meet Again

So I'd be totally lying if I said I wasn't starting to miss Antioch. Which is weird because it's only been four days. It's a week between meetings anyway. So what the hell? I think it's got to do with this Facebook thing. When I started the only way we could stay in touch after a weekend was by passing around a piece of paper and writing our phone numbers and home addresses on it. None of us had cell phones, few of us had e-mail. Pagers. Lots of people had pagers. Starting to get the idea here? Fast forward just a few years and we were pretty much exclusively communicating via e-mail. You wanted to stay in touch you sent out a mass mail. Let everyone know how much you missed them. Bump up again and we were all going back and forth on Myspace. It never really took off for the group, but it was certainly a thing. Everyone was just text messaging back and forth anyway. Facebook is sort of different though. Not four days removed and I'm sitting at my desk watching videos of Michelle doing the Macarena, Fish doing the chicken dance in a chicken suit, and just about everybody doing the Electric Slide. I'm looking through pictures (and I'm even in some of them!) of things that have happened over the past few months, even commenting on them. We're still talking about each other but I don't really know if we're talking to each other. It's weird. But it's something. And something is better than nothing.


Dr.Eam

I'm standing in a gas station parking lot. I can't tell if this is the Alter-World but it's clearly a dream. There are these two girls standing near a pay phone in one corner of the lot and the gas station attendant is walking over to us. He looks familiar but I can't quite place him.

The two girls are talking and the one mentions that she's known the other for about ten years but she didn't actually know her name. They seem like best friends all of a sudden. They seem to know me to, but I don't really know them. One looks like a girl I know, but I don't think it's her.

So the gas station attendant comes over and starts to tell us we have to leave, but then he realizes he knows one of the girls. So they start to talk leaving me to chat with the other. We talk for a minute before the guy decided he knows me too, so now the three of us are talking and the one girl is left alone. I decide to stop talking to the other two and just talk to her. We go around and around in circles like this for a minute, some sort of odd cyclical conversation until I finally break away and say I have to leave. The gas station attendant asks for my business card. Oddly enough there is one right in my wallet where I usually keep one. It's the only bit of the dream that makes any sense.


The Return of Captain Cash

So last night I didn't really want to go out. I wanted to get some stuff done around the house, wanted to watch some tv and eat some shit I shouldn't be eating, and then I wanted to get some sleep. Because I'm old. And exhausted. It was looking pretty good for that going down just like I expected right up until I realized it was Ash Wednesday. I never actually get ashes on Ash Wednesday but sometimes I just go to mass. I knew some of the team was going so I was considering it. Things went long at work though so I didn't. Now I intentionally didn't pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners or my pants from my mom's house because I knew if I got bored enough and had something clean to change into I'd be going out. I also didn't stop at the bank or take any money out of the box. I also didn't shave. Fuck it, I was staying home if it killed me. When one of the guys called I didn't even ask if he was around last night, I just talked about the weekend then said I had to go. I was not going out. I had just gotten out of the car when I heard my cell phone ring from it's place on the console. I didn't go back to answer I just went and picked up some food. When I get back in the car I see who it was that called. Damn. I missed that call the other night too and I really don't want to be rude. But I'm not calling back. I never call back.


So I get home and my sister helps me clean the dog up, and I'm doing a bit of tidying up around the house when I get a text message. Damn. Now I have to reply. I'm not going out. I've got no clean clothes, I'm a mess, and I've got no money whatsoever. I have less than a grand on me and for those of you not in the know when I go out I go out. Not saying I would have spent it all, but I would have spent enough of it that I'd have to reload in the morning and until that income tax return comes in and I call in the chit on some outstanding loans I've got nothing to reload with. I'm down to my last four grand and I've got a check out for half of that going towards my mortgage. After that I'm coasting on fumes. I've got nothing major planned in the next few weeks (although Boston will cost a few bucks the guys still owe me their shares that I already laid out, and I would really like to bankroll a trip to see Watchmen). So I send back a text message (which took a good eight minutes to type) saying that I'm not trying to be rude and ignore the messages, but I've just been busy and hope to catch up soon. I don't mention the fact that she's a pretty expensive hobby. She replies that she'll be working Friday and Saturday and that I should "come over" because she "misses" me. Who's she think she's fooling here? I have no illusions about any of the stupid ass things I do, and I hate when other people seem to think I do.


When I got to work this morning I found out that the smaller state end of my refund already came through. I'll probably spend it all on booze and comic books. God I love being an adult.


So I've got some things to get done in the next little bit, got a few fights to have with the old man, and I've got to take a few seconds to keep my head straight because as much of a blast as losing my mind was last time I'd actually like to stay sane for just a little while longer.

Ashes

Sunshine

It's not that things continued to go well yesterday, it's that things went badly and still I felt like I was on the side of the right. Still I felt like I was ok. The streak lives. This is the longest stretch of me feeling right in a very very long time. And even better I'm doing it without invoking the names of the others. It's just me. Just me. And I'm loving it. Sometime in the next few days I'll be going out for my father's 70th birthday (which was last week), I'll be meeting up with a few of the Antioch people hopefully, Michelle's birthday is next week, then the Antioch follow up meeting, weekend after that some of the guys are shipping up to Boston for the St.Patrick's Day Parade and a Dropkick Murphy's concert, after that my cousin James is back in town for Spring Break and there will be the Bayonne St.Patrick's Day parade (at which I've already promised I won't regale the crowds with stories of Tim's exploits from last year). So all in all this might keep on keeping on.

Good for me.

Kokomo

Ah but it's not that simple. Why would it be. This is me we're talking about. In the last few days I've grown irrationally angry with my brother. He's doing really well it seems like and I'm pretty proud of him. But there's some stuff going on that, amazing as it sounds, through no fault of his own has me a little pissed at him.

See Tim and I have always had an interesting dynamic. We're brothers. We love each other, we really do. But each one of us would slit the others throat in a heartbeat if we thought it would solve a problem. I protect people from Tim, and Tim protects people from me. The wreckage we leave in our paths somehow inexplicably balances out. We don't screw with each others lives all that often. But when we do...oh boy when we do. It never ends well.

So Tim is back working with me for the past few weeks, and that's cool, he's more than welcome as long as he does what he needs to do. He's doing pretty well for the most part. It helps that he doesn't have much responsibility and we don't ask him to do all that much outside what he knew he'd be doing. So it works. But he's doing well with it. Now he's got a chance to go back to the job he was doing that he seemed to really like. Good for him. It's a good job, he's good at it, he enjoys it. So so long. If you ever need to come back, you're more than welcome. I do what I originally wanted to do and hire someone, my father gets out of my way. We be rolling.

But hold on. It can never be that simple.

My father in one of his desperate and nonsensical attempts to control something he has no right to control is insisting that Tim stays on one or two days a week. This will do me absolutely no good. No good at all. In fact it will likely cause more problems than it solves. It serves no purpose. But my father can't just get out of the way, he's not happy if he's not fucking with something. So without telling me, without discussing it with me, he's trying to make a play for keeping Tim involved. Tim came back with the agreement it would be on my terms. This is my show. I'm the only one who puts the effort in required to make this work and I'm the only one in for the long haul. So I made it pretty clear that things would be on my terms. And now the old man is trying to be sneaky. I'm not having it. Not for one second. So if Tim wants to do this part time for a few weeks while he sees if this other thing will stick, that's cool. Anything past that is another story. It's just real tough to believe that the old man will keep his word when he's broken it so many times before.

There are a few other silly things. But that's pretty much it. It's not even really Tim's fault. Not that much anyhow. And yet I spent a good part of the afternoon wanting to pulverize him every time he stepped into the office.

I probably owe him an ass whupping from somewhere along the line either way.

Waiver

Now there was of course a brief moment of down today much like any other day. I'm hungry today, I've only got 320 calories in me and it's already coming up on 7 P.M. I sort of feel like eating chinese food even though I know I shouldn't. If I do I'll likely go well over 1,500 calories. I've got to get back on the treadmill today too, but that's tough to do with a stomach full of lo mein.

I'm still under 370 lbs. but it's been a few days since I've been able to get back down to 365 lbs. I'm thinking of making a push across the next three day to try and get back to that point which I so briefly touched late last week. That means my 7 day high was 377 lbs and my seven day low was 365 lbs. That's a 12 lb swing. Meaning at the best point in the past week I was down about 30 lbs overall and at the worst point I was down less than 20 lbs. Figure tonight I'll be up over 370 lbs. and if I'm lucky I'll be able to struggle back down by Sunday. Next week I really need to see the doctor again. It's been a little while. Got to see if my numbers are still good and I've got to see what my options are if I have to go surgical. Not that I'm really considering that right now. Hadn't even crossed my mind since last time I went to the doctor. But in the last day or two I've really started to wonder. What if it could really help? What if I already fixed my head and this could fix the rest of me? Wouldn't it be nice to be almost normal?

Aaaannddd...in conclusion: I got some stuff done around the house last night, going to get a little more done tonight. Don't really have anything planned for daytime this weekend so I might just spend that time making my house liveable again. In between I'd really like to write a story of some sort. Just not sure if I can remember how anymore.

Sure as shit gonna try though.

We Will Show Them How Glorious And Beautiful We Once Were...And They Will See.

Ten minutes after sitting down at my desk yesterday I was deluged with bad news and horror stories. People who upped and quit, a man who found out the mother of his children was dying, another man who found that his brother had killed his sister-in-law with a hammer. It was a twisted welcome back to the real world.

But we held on. I talked to Kevin, Adriana, Alyssa, and Jacqueline yesterday. Alyssa, Jenn, Mike, Collette, Fish, Steve, Nicole and several other people from past years added me on Facebook. Throughout the day we posted pictures, videos, and random notes and comments. We were not letting go. Everyone said the same thing, it was great, they can't believe it's over, they miss it.

See we did something. Not something all that incredible or unique, but something. Something special. And even if it all goes screwy after this, at least for one day we all thought it was something worth hanging on to.

Today I went to a wake for the sister of one of my mechanics, I received a rude surprise about a problem that I thought was long behind us, suffered the indignation of being blamed for the folly of things that I had long fought against, dealt with the horror of a bus full of people being destroyed on the road, and had the strangest conversation about my proclivity for hanging out in dive bars with go-go dancers that I've had in quite awhile.

All in all it was a day that begged for a drink that wasn't coming.

So tonight I'll head home, try to tidy up my disaster of a house just a little bit, try and catch up on some tv shows I've been missing the past few days, try to get some time in on the treadmill, and try to get some sleep.

Whole lot of trying for one little night if you ask me, but what else can I do?

I've all of a sudden got some free time I'm not using to fight my demons, and I've got to fill it with something don't I?

Weekend of The Gods Pt.4 & The Return of Mon-daze

This "weekend" began on Thursday with me standing in a convent chatting with a very sweet very old nun about my plans for this past weekend and ended just a few hours ago with a text message from a go-go dancer saying she was worried about me because she didn't hear back from me when she called on Saturday.

I'd say "Only Me" but at this point it's beginning to feel a bit redundant.

I woke up just past 2 A.M. on Friday morning, I didn't fall asleep for more than a few minutes again until just past 4 A.M. this morning.

In between I said a lot, did a little, cried twice, said I love you a thousand times (and meant it), hugged more people (and with both arms) than I have in my entire life, and realized that just because something ends doesn't really mean it's over.

You see there are people and there are places in your life that will hold a special meaning for you no matter how far removed from them you are. Antioch is one of those places, these kids are definitely some of those people. It's comforting knowing that when the times comes for us all to move on that we'll still have something that ties us together. It's even better knowing that it's not something I have to think about for a little while longer.

See I'm not going anywhere. And from the sounds of it neither is anyone else. And if there's been a single thing in the past little while that's made me happier than that I can't think what it is.

I'm sure in the next couple of days they'll be more and more for me to say about the things that went on this weekend. More stories to tell, more emotions to make sense of. But right now I'm just going to say that I'm getting a little bit scared. If things just keep getting better and better like this I might actually end up with some sort of life.

Perish the thought.

We Be Rolling

I remember.

I remember what the old rust shag carpet felt like under my bare feet. I remember laying on the floor staring at my already packed bag just wishing that my mother would change her mind and I wouldn't have to go. It wasn't that I had anything better to do that weekend, I never really have anything to do, it was just that I didn't want to go.

This whole God & Jesus thing wasn't my deal. It's not that I didn't believe. I just didn't care.

And I didn't want to go. But a deal is a deal, and I'd promised my mother that if she let me transfer out of catholic school mid year that I would stick with the Religious Ed program until I got confirmed. And a deal is a deal. So I was going.

My best friend Nick was there. My mom drove us both down in this big old white van she had. Me with this large unwieldy duffle bag of wrinkled clothes and a sleeping bag. I'd packed myself. Nick with this little tiny brick of a bag with enough neatly pressed clothes to last him a week if need be. His mom had packed his.

And we get out of the van and these madmen rush us and we're so flustered that Nick shuts the door of the van on my jacket and before I can shake it loose I have this momentary surge of terror that I'm either going to be smothered by these lunatics or that I'm going to be dragged halfway out of the parking lot before I'm able to wriggle free.

That first weekend was interesting. We didn't love it, but we didn't hate it. We weren't going back. Oh no, Nick and I knew. We were never going back. Once was enough.

Except...it wasn't. Nick stuck around for a half dozen years, met his wife there even. Thirteen years later, I'm still there.

Thirteen years later I still love it.

I've had good years and I've had bad years and sometimes I don't know which is which until so far after the fact that it doesn't really make a difference either way.

I have memories, we have history.

And each and every time I come back I watch those older memories fade, but I know the history only grows stronger.

How many of these kids even remember 1996? Thirteen years from now how many of them will even think about the fact that they were ever there?

When you find something you love you hold on to it. You grow with it. Sometimes you will hurt it, and sometimes it will hurt you. Inevitably at some point you will take it for granted until something or someone reminds you why it's so important in the first place. And someday you'll forget what life was like before it. And someday you'll realize you don't really want to know.

I've got some good years behind me, and I reckon I've got some great years ahead.

I'll remember what it was like to sit right here. I'll remember sitting at my desk staring at a pile of letters, and photos, and ticket stubs, and old receipts and wanting nothing more than to be exactly where I'm going to be in just a few short hours.

I'll remember...and this time I know it.

Aw Man, What The Fuck?

Dammit. I think I'm having an anxiety attack. I'm not entirely sure that's what this is because I've never actually had an anxiety attack before but all of a sudden I can't concentrate long enough to do the math on the numbers I'm running for payroll and even if I could there isn't enough strength in my hands to hold the pen to write any of them down. I'm having a hard time typing here my fingers are sort of flopping around and I keep hitting the wrong damn keys at the wrong damn times and it's taking me forever just to write a single god damn word. My chest feels empty, my head feels like it's about to explode, and my legs have gone all rubbery so that when I just tried to stand up my ankle bent over the wrong way and I immediately dropped right back into my chair where my desk is currently propping me up so that I don't fall the fuck over. My stomach hurts, my hands are shaking, I'm drenched in sweat. This is not good.

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm leaving. As soon as I can catch my breathe and I'm certain my legs will hold me I'm standing up and getting the fuck out of dodge. Going to stop and pick the kids up and have some lunch. Going to drive around in circles for awhile till I feel like I'm feeling better and then I'm going to head back in and actually get some work done. Tomorrow? I'm not coming to work. Fuck it. Maybe I'll go to a movie, or a museum, or maybe I'll just start driving and not stop till I run out of gas. Then I'll fill up the tank and turn around and head right back because tomorrow night we've got a prayer service and this weekend we got a legendmaker brewing and even though I've let doubt get the better of me in the past few hours I've got a handle on it now and it's not going to win out. Not this time anyway.

I was sick.

But now I'm well.

And there's work to be done.

Well Whaddya Know...

That felt really good to get out of my system. I mean, wow. I've been busted up trying to write my talk these past few days, trying to straighten out my part of the Wednesday prayer service. I've been conflicted about how good I'm feeling without any real reason and by the fact that no matter how much I seem to have a handle on things right now I know exactly how fragile it all really is.

I've been torn up about Antioch coming up so quick because just like every year I'm terrified we won't be able to keep the group together, and terrified that I'll decide to come back and have to watch as even more of my friends move on.

I've been beaten up like you wouldn't believe, tired and disappointed, and just all around fucked.

And I've still felt better than I have in damn near a decade.

I'm riding high not despite of, but because of, everything. I'm handling my shit and I feel great.

I'm ok.

And then something truly mind boggling happens. I find out that I'm much more convincing when I'm acting like I'm ok then I am when I'm actually ok. That's a bit of a bummer. I mean seriously. Damn.

But hey, it's good to know that there are people that care. Good to know that as many people as I try and look out for there are at least a few out there still looking out for me.

It's sort of comforting.

Means I've got a lot to be grateful for.

Which gives me one more reason to be ok.

Pit & Pile

"You might want to take a few steps that way."

"Why?"

"My head feels like it's about to explode and I wouldn't want to get any on you."

*Doubt*. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

Seriously God, you couldn't just let me have this one? You couldn't just let me ride this one out until I wasn't feeling quite so f'ing amazing anymore? It's not like you haven't kicked me when I was down before, so what was the f'ing rush this time? Is it really a prerequisite of my miserable little existence that you have to bend me over and try to fuck me in the ass every single f'ing time I'm starting to feel good about things?

Is it?

How many times are we going to do this me and you? How many times are we going to go toe to toe only to end up in exactly the same f'ing place we started?

You can finish me off anytime you want. I have no illusions that you're not totally in charge here. This is your show brother. I know that. I bow down and give thanks for all that is great and good, but I really want to know what exactly I did to piss you off quite so much. Cuz' I have a hard time believing you'd be this much of a dick to anyone you didn't have a bone to pick with.

I mean really, you could have made me one of those poor little Somalian kids, or a quadriplegic, or dullard, or any number of things that would have started me off a hell of a lot farther down the ladder...but you didn't. You made me me. And I'm ridiculously grateful that you did, but what the hell happened after that?

Is it that I fucked up my part so badly that you can't stand the sight of me? Am I that guy? The one who screwed up your plan so royally that in all your infinite fucking wisdom you finally said, "Fuck 'em, he's on his own." Or is it that I've failed you so badly that you've decided to just fuck with me till I up and quit?

I want to know. Really, because you know I was feeling pretty good. And I'm still feeling pretty good. And I'm going to keep on feeling pretty good because I'm going to be a good person. I know I'm not one just quite yet. But I know I'm going to be because I'm surrounded by good people who I love and care about and who love and care about me, and I thank you for that too. But just cut me a little slack here, just for a bit, just for a little while longer, because I'm pretty sure I've got something going this time around and if I can keep it up...well, maybe I don't lose my fucking mind this time.

That would really be nice, wouldn't it?

Right?

Right?

"What the hell was that noise?"

"Just me venting."

"How'd it go?"

"Pretty good actually, I think we've really got something here. This part's finally ending and the next little bit is looking pretty neat."

"That's good, real good."

"Yeah, it is. Who'd of thunk it?"

Weekend of The Gods Pt. 3: Vicissitudinary

Look, here's the thing, this is either going to go very very well, or it's going to go very very badly.

That's all there is to it.

I'd be lying if I told you that I had any inkling which way it's going to go.

God's honest.

All I can say is that I know it won't change the way I think or feel about anything.

Not this time. Not this way.

This time I know.

Sometime last week someone hesitated to tell me something, said they were afraid I would think less of them for it. And I told them quite honestly that nothing they could ever say about me would in any way affect what I thought of them. It was the truth, there are certain absolutes that I know I can get away with saying. I also admitted that I was wrong once. I told someone once that I would do anything for them and as it turned out I would have done just about anything for them...but not quite anything.

I will always regret being wrong about that.

Later on that night that same person said that they always had lots of people after them romantically, but never the people they wanted. That people always wanted to be their friend, but never the people they wanted to be friends with. I seemed to think that those were good problems to have, too many people liking you. But I also knew I couldn't really relate. I could never ask for better friends than I have. Could never ask for any more from them. It just wouldn't be fair.

Friday night as I sat in Geez with a few of the guys I mentioned that I'd been having a really good couple of weeks, near simultaneously I mentioned that I'm totally broke, have been drinking entirely too often, and have been on quite the self-destructive tear. They seemed to be stumped as to how to reconcile those ideas. God's honest as I heard myself saying it I thought the same thing.

I've also been thinking a lot about my talk. In the past few weeks I've told several people the story I wanted to tell in my talk. I didn't tell them the whole thing, didn't tell them exactly how I wanted to tell it, but I told it and that was something I don't recall ever properly doing before. I told it because I wanted to gauge their reactions. I told it because I want to have some idea whether or not it's the story I want to tell. The reactions have run from someone nearly crying to someone looking at me in sheer disgust to someone being baffled as to why I would tell such a horrible and personal story. So they've pretty much run the gamut. I still have no idea if that's the story I'm going to tell.

What I do know is that this was another amazing week, that I'm still running the good streak and we're well into Week 3. Friday night I hung out with the guys, Saturday I hung out with the kids, and today I hung out with the church folks. What more can a guy ask for?

I don't know.

I ain't right yet, but for the first time in a long time I feel like I'm getting there.

Tell The Devil To Go To Ground...He'll Find No Shelter Here.

So the bizarre and totally mindblowing reality of my current situation is that I've been in an amazing mood for the past what? Two weeks? Can that even be right? I think the last time I was in a real good mood for this long I hadn't even gone through puberty yet. Think about that...or don't.

I could pretty much tell you why too.


There are a few relationships with some people that I've finally been able to put into proper perspective. Not because I was ever confused about what my connection to those people really was, but because I was confused as to what I wanted it to be. Now I know. And it's all good.

For the first time in years I'm totally broke. It took me over a year of basically throwing money to the wind but as of last night I'm actually totally and absolutely broke. I can pay my mortgage, but that's about it. And it feels fucking great. For the first time in years I actually have to work. I mean I've been working all along obviously, working hard sometimes and harder others. And most days I really love what I do. But on the days I don't there just didn't seem to be a reason to do it. Now there is. I need the fucking money. Ha.

I've got good people around me. I've seen some friendships come full circle, some friendships bend to the point of breaking only to bounce back, and new friendships spring up in the most unexpected of places. I've defined ideas whose meaning previously eluded me. I've learned to cope with things I thought would haunt me forever.

I'm still fucked up.

But I'm better.

And I'm getting better everyday.

Someday I may actually be good.

Till then I'll just be me.

Hobson's Choice, Morton's Fork, Buridan's Ass...

When I yawned this morning it tasted of bourbon...and reminded me why I shouldn't go to Happy Hour by myself anymore. Spent too much, drank too much, ate too much. Last night couldn't have gone better, but couldn't have gone worse. It was what it was. A few hours of respite from what was quickly becoming a streak breaker of a day. It was by no means a great evening, or even one I would ever care to repeat, but it was good enough to get me out from under what would have been my first loss in quite awhile. It served its purpose.

Weight wise I didn't do too well. My new food came in, but I was out most of the weekend and although I didn't eat much I didn't eat well. Friday I only ate once, but it was a cheeseburger and fries. Saturday I was in NY all day and had a corned beef sandwich for lunch. Sunday I had Roast Beef for lunch and a cheeseburger for dinner. I also had a few drinks Friday night and a lot of drinks last night. It was a bad four day stretch as far as all that goes. I did quite a bit of working out though, I was particularly proud of yesterday, but I haven't done anything yet today. What that all adds up to is the fact that I'm up nearly 6 pounds in the last four days. Not good. Not good at all. Going to have to try a little harder over the next few days. I've already had 600 calories today. I just ate my dinner but I'm already pretty hungry, so who knows.

Still need to do quite a bit on my talk. Planning on doing another draft tonight if I can ever get motivated. Have some ideas, just have to out shout the doubt that keeps screaming in my head. Also need to get my desk cleaned off. I keep getting close and then things begin to pile up again.

I'm also broke again. I spent a lot of money on the Con this weekend, and even more last night. I haven't spend a dime tonight but I'll defer to my popular refrain of "It's still early" for that one. Debating not going to the comic shop tomorrow. Really don't need to spend the extra money, nothing new is coming out, and my current focus on something old isn't something they have. So it might be better if I just didn't stop in this week at all. I also need to get my shit together in general. With my XBOX broken and no new comics maybe I'll actually spend those hours I don't spend sleeping doing something productive. It's been damn near a year since those hours have been reserved for anything besides jerking around and trying not to lose my mind. Maybe I'll actually start to write a bit, or get my house cleaned up, or read a real book every now and again. I don't know.

What I do know is that I started writing this entry like an hour ago and six million pointless things have distracted me. So I'm just going to friggin' post it, and maybe write some more later. Maybe...

Vision

I'm about to fuck up.

I can feel it already.

Things are going pretty well for me right now, and this fuck up won't likely interfere with that. In fact it's probably going to rank among all-time amusing fuck ups in my book.

But I know I'm going to fuck up. And I'm not sure I want to do anything about it.
~

So the laughs from this weekend just keep coming. Yesterday I blogged about Comic Con and my undying love for a particular cute as a button entertainment blooger only to check her site today and see that one of our antics from this weekend not only made her Twitter feed but ended up being the closing photo for her entire coverage of Comic Con: http://blogs.usatoday.com/popcandy/2009/02/what-you-missed.html

Scroll down to the bottom of that and you'll see good ole' House getting his now infamous Ninja Turtle Massage.

Oh, and have I mentioned how much I love Whitney Matheson?
~

I really want to see The Wrestler this week. Everyone who has seen it loves it. I also still haven't gotten around to seeing Gran Torino. The kids want to see Coraline and I'm interested as well simply because it involves Neal Gaiman. Probably going to stop by Joker's Child on Wednesday and see if they have anything new. Not sure if the week after the Con is a busy or slow one there, but they should have something interesting at least. My XBOX appears to have fried again, so I might have to send that back. Not entirely sure how though. So maybe my gaming days are just done. I'm still trying to track down the Stray Bullets trades. No one in the entire Javits Center had a line on a set for me, and I checked everywhere. So I'm going to take a look on ebay next. Never know, might get lucky. I've still got a lot of work to do on my talk, still have to write some Palancas and still need to get my god damn desk cleaned off. After that...who knows.

Weekend of The Gods: Part 2

Another one bites the dust. But it was a good one. It was indeed.

Friday afternoon I was planning on going to Comic Con with the guys. Early on I find out that only Jere is planning on coming. At the last minute I find out even Jere isn't coming. I'm totally on my own. It's a little after one. Screw it. I'm going in. I leave Paterson at 1:30, by 2:15 I'm standing in the middle of the Javits Center basking in the bizzarity that is New York Comic Con.

I'm there for just under three hours, but I manage to tour the entire show floor. I pick up some really cool prints, talk to some really cool artists, and catch a quick look of the hottest cosplay Supergirl I've ever seen in my life.

By 5 PM I've paid $60 for parking and am on my way home. That night I meet up with Jere and House to have a few drinks and shoot the shit. They're planning to dress up for the Con as part of their bucket list, House is talking about going as The Hulk. Jere isn't sure what he's going to be.

Another good day.

So Day 2 starts with a stop at a costume shop over in Pompton Plains (I think). The guys waited till the absolute very last minute to get their costumes, and the truth is you really can't blame them. I don't think they actually thought they were going through with it until they were on the floor of the Con.

We get there, park right across the street, and the pair of them simultaneously chicken out. We head into the building with neither one of them in costume. After a brief stretch of us ridiculing them unmercifully and seeing that there are other people in far worse costumes the pair of them man up and head back out to the car to change. Twenty minutes later they're standing on the floor of the Javits Center dressed like this:


None of us had cameras, but it didn't really matter because easily 100 people stopped Ninja Turtle House for pictures. (Including the guy whose Flickr account I stole the above pic from) Captain America Jere...not so much. While selecting their costumes I "forgot" to mention to House that this was also the 25th Anniversary of the Ninja Turtles, both creators were in attendance, and there was a booth totally dedicated to the turtles. We couldn't make it five feet without someone stopping him for a picture. It was insane. We think he was loving it. You can never really tell with House.

So we're making our way down one of the aisles when we reach the Con massage center. There are masseuses there who for $15 will give you a relaxing 10 minute massage. You're on your feet most of the day at the con, it's crowded and frustrating. I really figured that the massage center would have been packed, but it's empty. I think it would be hilarious for the guys to get massages in costume. They don't. But I check with the guy working the center, and he says he's cool with it. I offer to pay. House is in. Jere is not. So I fork over the $15 and a rather large black gentleman goes to work on House. A crowd is gathering, people are cracking up. We're all taking pics with our phones, dozens of other people are taking pics. I look around the crowd. Standing just a few feet to my right is a ridiculously cute woman in a red jacket. Holy Shit. It's Whitney Matheson. Whitney Matheson is the writer behind entertainment blog Pop Candy and a feature writer for USA Today. Whitney Matheson is fantastic. I love Whitney Matheson.

No really. I love Whitney Matheson. If she wasn't married and I wasn't a fat blobular piece of shit I would find out where she lived, camp out on her front stoop and propose to her everytime she left the house. You know, right up until the restraining order landed.

And here she is not five feet away from me chuckling as she watched the Ninja Turtle Massage. I turn to Jere and say something along the lines of "Holy Shit, that's Whitney Matheson." He just looks at me oddly (Try having someone dressed in a crap Captain America costume look at you like you're the freak and tell me how great you feel about yourself) I continue to gush for about a minute and totally intend to walk over and tell her exactly how great I think she is when something odd happens...I get nervous.

I'm not the nervous type. I just don't care enough about very many things to get nervous. And here I am, standing just a few feet away from someone I admire a great deal, the perfect opportunity to just say, "Hey you're fantastic." And I can't work up the nerve.

To be a coward once is a mistake, to be a coward twice is death.

If I ever find myself in the same situation again (with anyone) I won't drop the ball.

When I get back to the office later that night I try to see if any of the hundred of people taking pictures posted photos of the ninja turtle massage. When I google Ninja Turtle Massage this is the top hit: http://twitter.com/popcandy/status/1186738224

"Oh my golly, I'm watching a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle get a massage! Only at Comic Con."

I think that just made my life. Something I thought of made Whitney Matheson say "Oh my golly".

And of course ultimate respect to Jere and House for going through with it and actually getting dressed up for the con.

I hadn't planned on going back for Day 3 but after chatting with the Rookie last night I decided to take him back for Kid's Day. He had a blast, and I had a blast. And I bought a new very bad ass walking stick. I closed out the night by attending our last regular Antioch meeting and having dinner (our last after meeting dinner) with the Antioch Team. I've said it a million times, but I don't think I'll ever be able to say it enough. I love these kids. They are, by far, the best people I know. And I can't wait for the weekend, even though I really don't want the run-up to be over just yet.

And now here I am sitting at my desk at half past 12 in the evening, wondering what the hell I've done right lately that has me on such a fantastic run . Wondering what other great things could happen next week that would be able to top this week. Wondering exactly why I feel as great as I do right now.

Wondering how long it can last...

And just hoping that this is it.

Hoping that I'm fixed.

The Motherfucking Reckoner

Oh Boy
The fact that I still have power in my house is a minor miracle. The fact that I have even a dime to my name is something incredible as well. The fact that I'm still smiling from last weekend? Unheard of. I'm just feeling good. Really really good. It's sort of scary. I've been saying for months that my whole world is going to come crashing down shortly. I still believe that. I'm still ready for it. But...what if it doesn't have to? What if there's a chance this all shakes out? I've let myself hope for things before and then been disappointed when they go wrong. Not this time though. This time if things go wrong I'll do everything I can to pull myself back up, and if things go well I'll just be pleasantly surprised.

For now I'm just sort of happy.

Imagine that. Me? Happy?

NYCC
The fan segment of Comic Con starts in just under two hours. I won't be there for the opening, but I'll be there at some point soon after. I'm not dying to see anything, but I do have a couple of things I want to do. I want to see if I can pick up the early Stray Bullets trades, want to see about getting some artwork to replace my Joker painting, and just check out the schedule for the rest of the weekend. Not sure if anyone is coming with me tonight, but if anyone does than perhaps we'll go out for a bit afterwards.

Hills
This isn't going to sound like much of an accomplishment to anyone, but seriously, let's remember who we're talking about. I consider not dying on a daily basis an accomplishment. But today when I hopped on the scale I got a pleasant surprise and I'm going to call it an accomplishment. I'll say it again. For a long time I had no idea what I weighed. Didn't fit on the scale at the doctor's office. Doc was guessing 350 lbs, but I know that my look is deceptive so I sort of tagged another 25 lbs on there and called it 375. That's what I said for quite awhile. When I got sick last year I noticed that I had gained weight as well. After consulting with the doctors and still having no idea how big I was I started to eat better and exercise more. Clothes that hadn't fit for awhile actually started to fit. I felt healthier. And when I got on the scale again at the doctor's office I was shocked to see that I was weighing in at over 384 lbs. I had lost weight, and I was still checking in at 384 lbs. I worked hard for another month, but didn't feel any real difference. My basement flooded again in October and I was off the treadmill for the rest of the year. Towards the end of November and for all of December I pretty much stopped eating well. I wasn't back to my old habits by any stretch, but I wasn't eating healthy at all. I put weight back on. If I had to guess I would say I was creeping back up towards 400 lbs again. When I got on the scale beginning of this month I was at 396 lbs. Within two weeks I was down to 376 lbs. Then I stalled. I'd gain a pound, lose a pound. Hell when you're my size you can drop 5 lbs by taking a dump. I was convinced that first 10-15 lbs was gone. But the next 5 or was going back and forth. Last weekend (despite being sick) I gained 5 lbs. I haven't necessarily done all that well this week either. I was off the treadmill beginning of the week because I didn't feel well, and eating somewhat poorly after that because I was hungry from having not kept anything down for a few days (Riddle me this, how can you vomit up or immediately shit out everything you eat for three days and still gain weight?). I really thought things were going to go poorly this week. But I got back on the treadmill with a vengeance. And though I've eaten some shit, I've also balanced it out by eating fairly well the rest of the time. Yesterday morning I was 374 lbs. This morning I'm 369 lbs. That's 27 lbs. in a month. Holy fucking Christ. I know some of that's going to come back. I'll probably be over 370 by this afternoon, but seriously...wow. Maybe I can do this...just maybe.

Cherry Lingo Actual

Aaaaaaannnnnnnddddddd finally...I'm totally stalled on my talk for Antioch. It's not that I can't put my feelings into words it's that I can't make them come out in a way that would make everyone else understand them. I can say a lot of things, I've always been able to say a lot of things. And I can convince people of a lot of things as well. But I don't want to convince people of anything. I want to show them something. I really want to show them something. I'm just not sure how.

Deficient

"I'd say I was a hopeless romantic..."

"But you're really just hopeless."

"Shit. Have I used that line before?"

"You've used all your lines before."

It would be nice if I just didn't give a fuck about anything. Just for a little while. Just long enough that I could get my head square for awhile. Truth is I'm not even all that fucked up right now. I'm actually pretty damn good. The consecutive great evenings streak ended at five, but the consecutive decent days streak is up around seven right now. And even the evenings that haven't been great haven't been all that bad. I'm still laughing from Friday, smiling from Saturday, and just beaming with pride from Sunday. I think if I had to peg it down this has been just about the happiest stretch I've ever had.

I just wish there was more I could do with it. Wish I could fix all the problems while I'm up so when I'm down I could concentrate on dealing with being down.

"Don't worry. I make fun of everyone like that."

"Oh. I think I liked it better when I thought I was special."

"You are special. Just not because I make fun of you like that."

"I..."

"Shit. Am I not supposed to say things like that?"

I'm beginning to work on a few things. I still need to re-write my talk. I still need to clean up my god damn house, work harder on losing weight, and just get over some shit that's been going on in my head. But I'm beginning to work on other things I think.

Maybe it's time I actually had a life. Maybe I should forget about everything and just make that my goal. Don't worry about anything else.

Stop trying to save the world. Just focus on saving myself.

It's awfully hard to even think of when I'm having a good week.

It's damn near impossible to pull off when I'm not.

"I've never been this torn the fuck up over anything."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You're totally worth being torn up over."

The Clockmaker

The time has come for a great deal of my more frivolous pursuits to end. No more dropping thousands of dollars a month on comic books, no more running around dropping hundreds of dollars at a time in go-go bars, no more fucking around in general.

Today marks the first time in a long time that I can't do something I want to do because I just don't have the money.

Now this thing I want to do isn't something I should be doing. I won't get anything out of it, it would cost more money than any of the other things I've ever done, and it's probably a really bad idea in general.

But I want to do it.

And I can't.

I've enjoyed every penny I've ever spent (which is good because I've spent just about every penny I've ever had) and I don't regret a single thing I've done, but the fact that I can't do this thing I want to do is driving me absolutely nuts. Even though I know it's a bad idea in the first place.

The Collection is pretty much complete, I've said that many times before but this time I'm running out of ways to make it a lie. The commission statue is a few months away from being painted still and that will cost me about $800. The two paint-ups I still have out will cost me about $200 more than I've already sunk into them, I've got a dozen Bowen Statues on order and one or two other pieces as well. But spread out over the next 6 months they shouldn't hurt me that much. Comic-Con is this week and I'll drop a few dollars there, going up to Boston next month and that will cost a few hundred as well. After that I don't know. I've never been this broke this early in the year. Last year I carried over a ton of money from the previous year but in the past 12 months I've burned through just about everything I have.

It's not that I'm worried about going broke. The plan was sort of to hit zero and see how quickly I could bring it back up. And if I put the brakes on right now I'd have more in the bank in three months than the majority of the people I know will ever have. I'll rent out the second floor again and cut my monthly mortgage in half. I'll call in all the outstanding loans, cash in the stocks and bonds, and be sitting on enough cash that I could not make a penny for the next 12 months and still be totally ok.

But the fact remains...

There is something I really want to do right now.

And I can't.

And you have no idea how angry that makes me.

No idea.

The Road

Agitation

I'm slightly agitated today. It always gets on my nerves when people lie poorly. If you're telling a lie at least lie well enough that you think you have a chance of fooling me. When you lie poorly you're just doubling the amount of agitation. You're agitating me by lying and agitating me by thinking I'm stupid enough to fall for your stupid lie.

Seriously. Just try harder. That's all I'm asking.

Aches

So I woke up still not feeling well this morning. My legs still hurt, my head still hurts, my stomach still hurts. My foot still hurts, but I'm starting to think if there is something buried in there. Like a splinter I just can't find. I don't know. It just sucks. I've got to get back on the treadmills one way or the other. Yesterday wasn't so bad. I had a grilled veggie panini and a side salad for dinner. It came with fries and though I didn't eat all of them I ate some of them and that probably put me over for the day. Sunday I had a slice of pizza for lunch and then fried chicken for dinner and even though I didn't go over the calorie line by all that much (I was over, but not by as much as you'd expect since I didn't eat any plan food that day) the shit I ate wasn't all that good. Today I'm at a hair under 500 calories for the day so far, but I'm probably ditching the plan dinner and getting something unhealthy...just because that's the sort of day I'm having. So I really need to get my fat ass back on that treadmill today.

Ache

And of course now I'm going to do one of those things I really shouldn't do and explain something that no one but me was wondering about in the first place. But I sort of need to, because it's the only way to get it out of my head. I'm worried about someone today. Not a friend really, not someone I have any right to worry about. But someone I worry about anyway. Someone I think very highly of, and care a great deal about. Someone who I owe one. Now like I said I have absolutely no right to worry about them. They're not a part of my life really and I'm not a part of theirs. If anything we're just two people passing in the night, once either one of us gets where we're going we'll never even see each other again. It's not that I feel sorry for them, not that I pity them in any way. It's just that I feel bad. I feel bad they're in a bad situation. Feel sorry for something I haven't got any control over. I worry because I care. Even though I know I shouldn't. Even though I don't reckon they care about me. I've never been one to base how I feel about people on how they feel about me. Just seems sort of unfair. I mean I'm an asshole, people shouldn't give a shit about me. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't give a shit about them. I don't know. I just wish there was something I could do.

Ghost Stories & A Trip From The Past

So last night I took a trip down Clinton Road for the first time in a long time. A few of the church kids had never been up there so me being me I of course agreed to take a trip up. It was at least the third place I haven't been in for nearly a decade that I've ended up in since I started hanging out with these kids. Someone told me the other day that I needed to make older friends that way I felt younger, instead of hanging out with teenagers which makes me feel like a god damn dinosaur. I don't buy it. Hanging out with older people would mean doing older people things (Exactly what old people do I don't know). Hanging out with younger people seems to mean I do the exact same shit I did in 1999. Of course it all looks a bit different. Some genius decided paving Clinton Road would be a great idea. Takes a little of the edge off. Used to be this great scary ten mile long dirt road with nothing at all on either side, and now it's just a ten mile stretch of pavement. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly disappointed.

Of course I was in great company so that made me feel slightly better about the fact. Considering it was a pretty short pretty silly trip it was also a fantastic trip which runs my "consecutive great evenings" streak to five. Something that hasn't happened in quite awhile. That streak will probably end this evening, unless I can turn rewriting my talk, eating shit I shouldn't be eating, watching DVRed episodes of Heroes and Chuck, and walking several miles on the treadmill into a great evening. Of course if anyone can do that...it's me.

So here's to hoping.

Re-Re-Re-Writing The Talk

And finally...for the fourth time in as many weeks I'm rewriting my Antioch talk. It's not that I didn't think my previous attempts were any good, it's just that the longer I have between putting the pen down and actually giving the talk the more I begin to doubt whether or not it's going to have the affect on people I want it to. I finish writing a talk and I sit there thinking, "People will really connect to this." or "People will really find shit funny." And then a few days later I'm thinking "People are going to think this is so stupid." or "Why the hell would anyone care about this?" Doubt's a bitch. But at least it's my bitch. So I'm comfortable knowing that I could use anyone of my talks and they would be, at the very least, decent. But I don't want decent. I want grand. So fuck it. Here I go again. In my Saturday night chat this weekend I told someone at least two stories I've never told before. In a blog post this past weekend I told a few stories I probably never should tell again. And last night I'm pretty certain I told a few tales that I wouldn't have been comfortable telling before. So it's fairly certain I'll come up with something.

Anyway, I've got some work to do. Going to be here for quite awhile so might as well lock shit down and make some progress. Maybe even actually get some stuff done.

No One Teaches You How To Fly

Life ain't all fucking and sunshine kiddies. No it ain't.

I just want to point out that my previous entry consisted of me inadvertently copping to my suicidal tendencies, telling a story about turning down a handjob, and revealing that I totally shit my pants. That's what I call a banner fucking entry. If I can talk about those things with little or no shame then I am certain I can talk about damn near anything.

Whether or not I should is another matter altogether. But let's remember who we're talking about here.

But seriously...hung out with the Rookie last night and watched the game. Turned out to be a great game and even though I ate a bunch of shit that I shouldn't have eaten and didn't really care who won one war or the other it was a lot of fun. The Rookie and I also made a deal, in return for getting him out of school tommorrow, a small monetary payment, and the promise that I'll let my hair grow longer he's going to let me shave his head tomorrow. He gave his word...so it should happen. But of course it won't.

I really wanted to get back on the treadmill last night but it didn't happen. Friday I got about three miles in, Saturday I felt like death so I wasn't on at all. Thing is I got a cut on the very bottom of my left foot on Thursday, so Friday morning I was favoring my right side while walking. By the time I was done my right leg was starting to hurt. So all weekend I've been swapping back and forth depending on which was bothering me worse, the cut on my left foot or the soreness on my right side. And although the soreness has cleared up now my left knee is a bit off and I still have that cut on my foot. So now I don't know what I'm doing as far as exercise today either. Really sucks because I felt like I was doing really good last week.

Been signing some papers lately. At some point in the next several days my father will become "officially" retired, I'll "officially" own part of the company, and I'll be "promoted" from my current position of VP to President. What that really means is absolutely fuck all nothing. I won't get anymore money, probably better off that way. My father will still be around as much as always. And I'll continue to run things like I have been for the past five years. So yeah, great. Everything changes but nothing changes. I've also officially become the executor and trustee of the estate. Originally he was going to put my brother in charge of everything, but then he realized if he did that he might as well just burn the place to the ground so he put me in charge instead. Sort of smart if you ask me. Not that anyone ever does.

In other news that's probably as dull and uninteresting as this entire entry has been. I've got not a fucking clue what's going on for tonight, I'm either working till the sun comes up, hanging out with the Antioch kids, or drinking till I'm almost wobbly and then attempting to replicate Nikola Tesla's experiments in polyphase power distribution using chewing gum, a nine volt battery, and a Furby. I still don't know what the plans are for this weekend in regards to NYCC. The guys wanted to go in costume, but I have no idea if they're all set up or not. I also don't know what their schedules are. And I also don't know if they even still want to go. If not I'm stuck with $200 in weekend passes I won't be using which would really suck balls since I'm damn near achieving my goal of being totally broke. People always find those stories about people who make a ton of money and die piss poor sad, but I like them. I like to think it means that those motherfuckers had a blast before they went. If I could spend or give away every penny I have in a way that makes me or the people around me happy while I'm kicking then I could take dying penniless in a cardboard box somewhere. Not too worried about that though. Not yet anyhow.

So right now I've got a assload of work I've been putting off all day. Have to stretch my leg out a bit see if I can't shake off some of this soreness and I need to make it to the bank so I have more then $3 in my pocket if I go out tonight.

I'm still smiling from this weekend, but the more I think about it the more it makes me wonder. I'm a total fucking waste, but I really should be more of a mess than I am at this point. I'm 28 years old, got nothing going for me, and still seem to be loving just about every second of this unholy assfuck that I call my life. I just don't know, I just don't know.

Life aint' all fucking and sunshine. But it sure as hell would be nice if at least some of it was.

Weekend of The Gods

I think, if at all possible to avoid hyperbole in a situation that absolutely begs it, this was the most awesomely strange weekend of my life. I haven't even thought of offing myself in at least three days now. Ain't that something?

So here goes...

Obviously last week ended better than expected. Wednesday was a bit of shit, but not that bad. Thursday I got to spend time with some of my favorite people and catch a decent movie. Friday was a halfway decent workday and I knew I'd be going out Friday night. So, you know, good good all around.

Friday night turned into a Legend Maker pretty early on, but it wasn't till about three in the morning when one of the guys was puking out of the back window of my Hummer and we stopped for breakfast that the status of the night was truly set in stone.

The real (and most disturbing) part of the evening happened much earlier without the other guys. Keep in mind this is a pretty fucked up story if you want to stop reading right now and skip on to a later bit. Or better don't. Just click that little red "x" on the top of the screen and go read a book. Because this next bit is fucking bonkers.

I stopped for a drink (or ten) at one of my old haunts in the early evening and ended up talking to a very pretty go-go dancer for a bit. At one point we headed upstairs to the private rooms where we got a bottle of champagne that neither one of us probably needed and we chatted for a while. So later on she's sort dancing for me and she's so fucking incredible that it's making me a little uncomfortable because I'm about the worst heterosexual male in the history of the world. We're talking this whole time. I pause look away for just a second to grab my champagne glass and have a drink, when all of a sudden her hand is down my pants.

Now some people might be thinking totally single unattached no prospects 28 year old guy, hot chick with her hand down his pants, cool beans. And people who know me and understand that I'm not even big on shaking hands are probably quietly chuckling to themselves and thinking "Oh boy this is going to be good."

Call me old fashioned but if you've got your hand on my cock I should, at the very least, know your last name and favorite color. Maybe even your social security number, I don't know. So I bolt up out of my chair with a "What the fuck?" totally mortified that I may have given off some unintentional signal that this was what I was looking for. Ten seconds before we'd been talking about her mom and now I'm mortified and she's ashamed and we're both sitting there thinking "WHAT THE FUCK?"

So now we're sitting there, after spending a good five minutes trying to convince each other not to be embarrassed about what just happened and boggling at the fact that anything about the situation seemed remotely normal. We start talking again, a little more awkwardly than before, I look up and I realize...she's fucking crying. There were obviously a lot of other things going on in her head, and she turned out to be really nice sweet (albeit slightly confused) girl. But all I took away from the situation was that I'd made a go-go dancer cry...again. Only me folks. Only me.

So a little later on I'm with the guys and they're drinking fairly heavily. I've slowed down since earlier in the evening, but I've already got enough in me that I really don't want to be drinking anymore and getting behind the wheel. I'm starving so I convince the others to go to the diner with me. On the way one of the guys is clearly not feeling well, opens the back window and gurges all over the side of my car. It's three in the morning, I couldn't care less. We end up in the diner where we all order a bite to eat. The sick guy orders a bagel, and then ends up yakking in the bathroom before it even gets there. When he comes back he picks up half the bagel, turns around and heads back to the bathroom. The waitress (who is either stoned or more drunk than any of the guys) looks at those of us left at the table and almost in shock croaks, "Did he take the fucking bagel into the bathroom with him?" We left a decent tip for the trouble. One guy walked out with his soda glass in his hand. Nobody even really seemed to care.

Saturday morning I finally get a look at my car in the sunlight. There's so much vomit on the side of the car I have no choice but to take it to a car wash. It takes them seven minutes with the pressure washer to get it all off. Something I ate at the diner didn't sit right with me and I'm seriously considering the fact that I may have food poisoning. I'm hurling and shitting at a pace that modern science would have a hard time explaining. I'm pretty sure I've got a fever as well. I really don't want to go out to dinner with the family, but I man up, get dressed and head out. We have a relatively nice dinner, it inolves a fair amount of red wine and a few Glenlivets. And although I didn't eat much what I did eat was fairly rich. Which wouldn't have sat right with me after eating mostly bland stuff lately anyway. I also quickly realize that the reason I stopped vomiting and shitting was that I was totally empty. And suddenly I'm full again. See where this is going?

Somewhere in there I also get a hold of an "old friend", it's been quite awhile so I know I'm going to see her even though I'm not feeling well and have no money whatsoever (damn ATM's). I almost hurl in the parking lot of the restaurant, but I manage to get to the office before it starts to come up. I've also caught a bloody nose at this point and I'm starting to wonder if this is food poisoning or fucking Ebola. So I'm trying not to bleed on my nice shirt and to hurl neatly into the office toilet when after one particularly powerful heave I realize that I've just literally shit my pants.

No...really.

I know how to use the world literally. I'm not one of those people who say things like, "It was hilarious. I literally died." Because no you fucking didn't. If you had literally died someone else would be telling me the story most likely at your fucking funeral you fucking moron. When I say I literally shit my pants what I mean is I actually had to throw out a pair of underwear. At this point I'm curled up fetal on the floor of the bathroom with a spattering of vomit everywhere and half a load in my pants sweating and bleeding and seriously wondering if this is what it's like to die. And then I realize I'm empty again. And I feel a hell of a lot better. So I shed my unders (shit), my shoes (vomit), and my shirt (blood and vomit) and actually head out barefoot and commando in the freezing cold with only a guinea T and a thin pair of dress pants on. It's twenty degrees out, I'm beginning to wonder if I would have been better of dying back in the bathroom.

I head home, drive over my lawn so I could get as close to my house door as possible so I'm freezing to death for as short of a period of time as possible. I run in, take the longest hottest shower I possibly can. Throw out my pants just for good measure. Get all dressed up again and head back out.

I really need a fucking drink.

I meet up with my "old friend", get her thoroughly focking smashed, and proceed to tell her the ridiculously embarassing story about the night before (I don't tell the shit, vomit, and blood story...even I have standards). At the point where I lament the fact that I've made a go-go dancer cry she reminds me that she is a go-go dancer...and I've made her cry before. Well played me, well played indeed. We spend the next three hours drinking and laughing, and I quickly watch every worry I have in the world right now evaporate for just a few hours.

I felt pretty good by the time I left.

Sounds strange, I know, but this is me we're talking about. When was the last time anything about me even registered on the normal scale.

I head home, play some video games, catch a quick nap and head over to the Youth Room for an early Antioch meeting. It is, as always, the highlight of my week. Those kids are, without a doubt, the very best people I know and I would be totally lost without them. We're really starting to get geared up for the weekend and I couldn't be more proud of them. And the fact that I get to see so many of them so often outside of the church, well, very few things in my life make me happier than that.

We're out early for the Super Bowl like usual. I've got no plans, but I just found out the Rookie will be home alone. My mom and Turi are going to a friend's, little sister is going to one of her friend's and the Rookie's got nothing going on at all. So I'll head over and spend a bit of time with him.

I really don't think I've ever had a more splendidly fucking odd weekend. And this week is certainly shaping up to be pretty fantastic as well. We're planning something small for the Antioch group, might make a run at a comic shop with some of the younger guys on Wednesday, have to set up a prayer service with some of the older folks, Comic Con is coming up this weekend and our last regular Antioch meeting will be this Sunday.

First time in a long time I'm coming off a good run and looking at another one lining up.

I take it as I can get it nowadays folks. The good with the bad and just running with all of it. But I'm not ashamed to admit I needed a run like this. I put myself in a bad situation Friday night and ended up proving that I'm not as bad of a guy as I sometimes think I am. I got to have fun and a great conversation with someone I wish I could call a friend on Saturday. And today I got to spend time with people who have, over the past few years, become some of the most important people in my life.

And I shit my pants.

Only me folks.

Only me.

And I don't suppose I'd have it any other way.