Oo De Lally, Oo De Lally, Golly What a Day

     The shock has worn off, so now I only feel slightly numb. I am in the process of making myself entirely numb. One and a half down, four and a half to go. Maybe more, who knows.

     It was a nice day, otherwise. Finally got my brake lamp replaced, and a new fuse for the cigar lighter (only so I can charge my phone, no worries). Then I headed to Portage County for my annual trip out to some of my old stomping grounds. Got halfway to Ravenna, realized how early it was, and decided instead to go visit Mike at home in Canton. Spent a good bit of time with him this year, around two hours' worth, which is the most since just after Gabe was murdered back in '95 when he was in Kent. THEN I went up and over to Ravenna and had my annual A&W snack/dinner, while setting the waitstaff on its ear (they REALLY dug the southern gentleman, ROTFLMAO!). Didn't get to chat with either of the Roenses, he wasn't there, and she was busy in the kitchen. Ah, well, next year!

     Didn't get to hike anywhere near as far as I wanted to along the Cuyahoga this time. If I hadn't have waited for Alexia, I'd been fine, but her mother wanted her to finish stocking, so...*sigh* every year we do our little dance ("I was gonna marry you!" "You were thirteen!" "So what?" "I lived twelve hours away!" "I didn't care!" *glares at her* %giggles% *smiles* we both fall out laughing, ah, good times). The drive back to Brunswick SUCKED from the time I got on 303 until just before 130th, thanks to a *&^%ing stupid female dog who couldn't drive worth a shit. I will NOT go into detail about that, as just telling my cousin about it raised my BP to where I was seeing red and blue behind my eyes.

     GEEZ! Now I find out Mike's dad collapsed and was rushed to the hospital shortly after I left Mike's house! Apparently, Major Tom, being the trooper that he is, was more concerned about how my visit with Mike went, LOL!

     Now my cousin and I are reminiscing about grandma Fidler, and how scared we were of her, LOL! Bingo, bowling, you name it.

     Okay, it's time to get serious about this drinking shit...









You aren't my number one priority anymore. You can't be.

From One Side to the Other

     The night was going so well. I blasted my legs, they were all rubbery, telling me I broke them down well enough. Got back here to cousin's, feeling good, sucking down water unlike recent days. Working on "vids" in order to upload the definitive recording of a major work.

     Then this. I am still in shock. He is gone. The man who saved my life. The man who broke into the bathroom and ripped the blade out of my hand before I could notch another mark. The man who swore to me that he would flat-out kick my ass if I didn't anything like that again. The man who made it a point to come by daily to make sure I hadn't done something stupid. The man who swore to my mother that he would be damned if I would ever hurt myself again. And right he was, as most of those scars have healed nearly to invisibility, as it has been over seven years since that night. He became a great friend and drinkin' buddy, telling the craziest stories from the desert.

     Gone. In the blink of an eye. I...don't know. Did I ever thank him enough for what he did? Did he know what he meant to my mother? Did he feel any pain? Will we ever know what happened?

     Good night, my friend, keep the bar open and a stool ready, and I'll bring my ears and the beers. I love you, man.









In all things there is good and bad, which side presents itself is how you look at it. I choose good, often to my detriment.

And You Smell Like One, Too

     As I posted earlier on FB, that was the greatest baseball game I've ever attended. And I've been going to games for at least 40 years. It was cool having Adam as my guest, seeing as he's never been to an Indians game. Certainly glad we came back with that 4-run 7th to win it. But probably the coolest thing of the night came on the train heading back to Brookpark. We were kinda jammed in like sardines, when a couple squeezed us all together a little tighter. She was certainly a beauty (so, shoot me: I'm a sucker for redheads), but that's not the focus here. Her boyfriend, it turned out, is a Reservist, and had just gotten back from his annual 2-week wonderland at Camp Ravenna earlier this week...

     Civilians cannot fully understand what followed. Once it was discovered we both were service-connected, for the remainder of the trip it was just me and him, shooting the shit, swapping stories, commiserating about the VA, and so on. Here's this young man, a buck sergeant in the USAR whom I had met just minutes prior, and I, conversing as if we've known each other for years. As the crowding lessened, and seats became available, she sat in the seat next to where we had all been standing, while he and I continued to stand across from each other talking. And she has obviously seen this happen before, since as she sat, she watched us, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, never once seeming upset that he and I were talking like old war buddies. As the occupancy thinned even more, and seats were rapidly being emptied, we still stood at the back talking. I soon became aware, via the reflection in the glass behind him, of several people who were seated, watching us talk. Every time I glanced, we were the subject of scrutiny.

     Just like that, we were at the Brookpark station, which, incidentally, was their stop as well. Time was immemorial during the ride, as it felt both at once as if we had been talking for hours and yet it seemed like mere moments. As we exited the station at the bottom, and started down the ramp, one of the gentlemen who had been watching us asked if we were in the military. My newfound Army friend stated that he was, while I informed him that I was a USAF veteran. He then proceeded to tell us that he guessed that we were from remembering how his dad would act around fellow soldiers/veterans. He then thanked us for our service, mentioned it was an honor to meet us, said he was glad to witness service members of two differing generations holding a conversation where everything stated was understood, and how sad he was that he had been unable to serve (medical). I saw the shine in the sergeant's face, and knew the same was radiating from mine as we thanked the gentleman for his kind words and we all parted ways.

     There is no bond greater than the one between brothers that has been forged in the hellfire of death and destruction, but the one between service members of any type is pretty damn good, too. We may joke about each others' branches, call each other names (grunt, flyboy, jarhead, squid, coastie), but that's a privilege earned. Watch a civilian try the same, then bask in the glory of the shitstorm that ensues. And I still have friends that are active grunts, flyboys, jarheads, squids, and coasties. And we can still talk and jibe at each other as if we've been serving together forever.

     All in all, a very good birthday.

Still on bended knee nightly

Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, and Dodge...

     Forty-five. Twenty years of borrowed time. And what do I plan to do during my 45th year on this planet? Purchase the same thing that should have killed me all those years ago. Why? I have no good, honest answer for you, other than I miss it. Throwing it nearly on its side through a big curve and dragging your knee, the thrill of nothing between you and God at 150 mph, the instant acceleration, the wind across your face and in your hair and the bugs in your teeth (in certain states)...

     Forty-five. Time to start cutting some things loose. Projects that will never finish, or even start. People who don't have the time or even the decency to return my concern. Hopes and dreams that, even dead, clutter my thoughts. Ideas that have no support. The other 85 pounds to make it 160...

     Forty-five. Almost half of my planned longevity. I'm too bullheaded and stubborn to go out like a punk before reaching the century mark. If I can play the game right, I'll have my M.M. in Performance before that half-way mark. Maybe my D.M.A. by fifty-two...

     Forty-five. Might as well call it Year Zero, because you don't know me. If you thought you did, you're in for a surprise. Just don't try to get back in good with me if you're cut. Odds are I've done and done for you and you've barely acknowledged it, or you've lied on or to me, or you've done something else to prick me and cause me to bleed. Well, guess what, Buttercup? True Love will not save you this time, you will perish in the Fire Swamp, and the Dread Pirate Roberts will move on.

     May the odds be ever in your favor...

Why continue describing me, but shunning me?

Pray For Peace of Mind, Body, and Soul

Slipping falling sliding colliding

Dashing rushing flashing crashing

Running gunning flinging slinging

Insanity complexity witty gritty

Lying sighing crying dying

Mostly, pray for my guts...

Visions of beauty, realities of evilness

Tacos

     Yesterday, for those who didn't see, was a cheat day for me. Unfortunately, it didn't matter, as what went down, came back up. Had that problem up through present. The only things that haven't come up in the last 24+ hours are the energy drinks, energy shot, morning shake, and pills. For some odd reason, even water won't stay down.

     Which brings me to this post's title. I'm REALLY craving tacos, and especially a chili-cheese burrito (seeing as you can only get them at home once in a blue moon), but odds are the same thing would happen, and I would be sad, as that would be wasting tacos...

     Maybe just a good night's sleep away from everything will restore some of my equilibrium.

     But how do I stop my brain from continually playing those images, especially when I am not in control? Is there a magic potion for dreamless sleep?




     Why is it always the poets that suffer the most?

     Hmm, maybe I didn't win that fight, after all...




I wish I could forget you...

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain

     So, I will not give details at the moment (well, I will for one thing), but there may be more to my trip to Ohio that just getting out of Dodge, re-centering myself, and catch an Indians game. I will have done some extensive travel in the state by the time all is said and done.

     What I CAN say is I have a car with the title already in my name waiting for me up there, and it's only costing me 400 bones. NICE looking car, too. Only things wrong are the high mileage (pfft) and the heat doesn't work (like we need heat down here for more than, say, a month...). I'll put the pics my cousin sent me below.

     It's been a while since I've pulled a 36 hour day, but it is what it is. Luckily, I could drive the route blindfolded if I had to, so doing it nearly asleep is a piece of cake. It'll only be the last four hours of the drive where I'll be dragging booty, then staying awake the next 12-14 hours or so for visits...

     So, anyway, this vehicle my cousin has squared me away with has really helped in setting me up for buying a bike in September (or earlier, if my personal injury settlement is decent enough). Hells, yeah, boys and girls, children of all ages.

     So, time to check the laundry, maybe grab a bite, stop off and see a friend, hit the cages, pack up, and roll out, in that order, between now and NLT 2300.

     Oh, here:

So, that answers the question of how I would get my tux to the school for performances...

I will live, I will succeed, I will be victorious, and if I do it alone, so be it...Jedi.

Again, ©2006 RTS Works

To You

Nothing can express

How much you mean to me

Or how much I love you

No song, no poem, no words

Are able to say all

Of how I feel

I could tell you every day

For a million life-times that I love you

And it would not be enough

There aren't enough words

In all the languages in all the universe

To adequately say how much I love you

There aren't enough ideas

In all the greatest minds in history

To tell you what you mean to me

There is no measurement

Anywhere in the world

That can measure my feelings for you

Everything I do, everything I say

Is but the most miniscule of ways

To show you how much I care

And even should you cast me out

To forage life's lonely path

Even still will I love you

I want it to be remembered

That you are my love and my life

Through mankind's last day

I do well and truly love you...

Thank You, Mr. Wilder

"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? every, every minute?"

"No...The saints and poets, maybe they do some."

In response

You already have, my dear. You've always been enough. I guess it's that I'm not enough for you.

Who Am I

Who Am I

Who am I

To love you

Who am I

To cherish you

Who am I

To dream about you

Who am I

To gaze longingly upon your face

Who am I

To sigh in regret at a future not to be realized