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April 30 Colossus: The Rocas ProjectDear Mitch and Kalli,
Here I am in front of my stupidly big, Super Computers' monitor which I call 'Gigantor', after a favorite childhood cartoon.
It is 10 feet high by 12 feet wide. IT is currently on a mission to take over the world and I am a prisoner in my own home...
Help Me...
April 25 Walk On The Wild SideFollowing in the footsteps of Mitch, Kalli and Melisa:
It was wash day anyway!
April 21 A River Runs Through ItThe trouble with weather forecasting is that it's right too often for us to ignore it and wrong too often for us to rely on it.
~Patrick Young
Weather is a great metaphor for life - sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, and there's nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella.
~Pepper Giardino
Weather forecast for tonight: dark.
~George Carlin
A True Story*
A quiet Sunday or so I thought; a rainy afternoon,
A time in which I could relax, but would learn I spoke to soon.
For just like back in Bible times when doth the Lord did call,
And Godly Noah built the ark so that not all life would fall.
It started out as most rains do; a soft and gentle kiss,
With nothing to reveal within, that something was amiss.
But luckily for us today, technology abounds,
And we were warned a head of time, that trouble was coming round.
A great big storm was coming nigh, it covered many states,
It promised floods and whoop ass winds, with rain slow to abate.
The warnings were shouted all the way from Florida to Maine,
It seemed the whole east coast was doomed, we all would feel the pain.
But even with this knowledge known and preparations made,
I thought that it wouldn’t be as bad as Jim Cantore claimed.
For I have been bamboozled before by the Weather Channel’s claims,
That nasty snow or rain would fall; only to have nothing came our way.
So when at last the rains did come, I still did hold out hope,
That I was right and they were wrong and that we all would cope.
And so I set about my day to work upon a task,
And not give any thought at all to Armageddon’s blast.
The rain at first was steady and drummed along in time,
With what I had been working on; they almost worked in rhyme.
Ignorance is blissful and I was as blissful as they come,
To what was going on outside; all of nature on the run.
And then as if an alarm clock, had woke me from a dream,
I noticed that that gentle rain was now a forceful teem.
I wandered to my bedroom window just to have a look,
To see if the water had broke its bounds from my uneasy brook.
The water had more than breached the bank; it was halfway up my yard,
There floating in its liquid grip, were branches I had yet to discard.
I really had planned to deal with these; it was number twelve on my list to do,
But now the brook would do the job, I knew that I was screwed.
I rushed into the basement deep and battened down the hatches,
To make sure things were off the ground and to gather candles and extra matches.
I ran back upstairs to tell the wife of all that I could see,
But all I found was a brief note from her, which had been left for me.
“I couldn’t wait for you to see what I’ve been telling you for days,
So I’ve packed the kids into the car to take them far away,
To my mom’s house where they’ll be secure, so do the best you can,
I love you dear, so please be safe, you stupid, stupid, man”.
Back downstairs I ran to check and see if there was more,
Of anything that I could do to hold back furies storm.
And just when I was satisfied that everything had been done,
The water started pouring in and left me no where to run.
It came in through the windows; it welled up from the pump,
It swelled around my ankles and just kept rising up.
And when it reached up to my waist, I thought that this was it,
That I would loss the house and all; “OH GOD MY LIFE IS SHIT!”
I stood there in the water and watched in misery,
As many things did now float by as if swept out to sea,
And perched upon a scrap of wood that floated right on by
There was a mouse that had set sail; he let his middle finger fly.
But just like that, the waters ceased to flow into my quarters,
The brook it seemed reclaimed its right to control the troubled waters.
And as I stood there cold and wet, regaining my lost cool,
I contemplated what to do with my new indoor swimming pool.
Now being as a man would be, I though for only a brief time,
About how cool it would now be, to stock with fish this pool of mine.
But then those words of wisdom inside my head like a recording ran,
“You stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid man”.
And so with that decided and without further ado,
I grabbed my nearby floating pales and began the great to-do.
I must have made a thousand trips back up and down those steps,
With five gallon buckets in each hand to reclaim my watery depths.
And so twenty hours later and well into the next day,
Between the buckets, wet vac and pump, the remaining water went away.
I relit the furnace pilot and stoked up the water heater,
The washer/dryer was ok as were the gas and electric meter.
Tired, wet and hungry, I wanted nothing more than a hot shower,
To help warm away my inner cold and melt away my dourer.
But I would have to wait sometime before the water fully heated,
So I went outside into the day to see what mess would I now be greeted.
Because the water only got as far as midway around my house,
Fallen branches seemed to be the only damage that I could count.
So at least my front yard and to the street, seemed clear of great distress,
I turned around to look and see out back, to survey all the rest.
No sooner had I turned around and only a few steps taken,
The power line upon the pole; its grasp was now forsaken.
It fell right down upon the ground where I was just a moment standing,
And burnt my fence straight to the ground; my neighbors car it was now demanding.
“It was a tremendous roaring mass of flames”, to my wife I later noted,
The black smoke reached far into the sky and all the tires exploded.
The fire department could only watch as there was nothing they could do,
The power line was still alive and more damage could ensue.
After about an hour, the power company finally came,
And killed the life out of the line and of the fire, then was done the same.
The burned out wreckage of the car was sadly towed away,
And at my curb a burned out crater was all that now remained.
Way too over tired and sitting on my deck,
I reasoned through the weekend that became a tragic wreak.
Once again I realized that if I had listened to my wife,
More than half the problems that had came, would never have been given life.
Later that same evening after I had showered, slept and eaten,
My wife came home to see how bad her tragic husband had been beaten.
She scarcely looked about the house to see what damage she could spy,
Thent put here arms around my neck and looked into my eyes.
“Even though I told you so and you just chose not to listen,
I spent the night without you near; your heartbeat I was missing.
And despite the fact I knew you were wrong; I know you do the best you can,
I Love you so and am glad you’re safe, my stupid, stupid man.”
* This past weekend, A Nor’easter past very slowly along the east coast of U.S. and made havoc large and small. I label this as a true story, but it is one that is spread across 3 separate times that we have been flooded out by such storms; 1996, 1999 and just now (where fortunately this time it was very minor). It is a story that I have wanted to tell before and with this past weekend’s activity, I thought that it was time.
© 2007
April 15 Five-O"The man who views the world at fifty the same as he did at twenty has wasted thirty years of his life."
~Muhammad Ali "Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend." ~ Albert Camus
"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut."
~Ernest Hemingway
Eighteen years old.
We were fresh out of high school which ended twelve years of mandated indentured servitude to the school system. The beast of our burden was dead and college was still months away. We were driving cars, or what at one time passed for cars; they had a steering wheel, once were skinned in non-rusted sheet metal, and equipped with four tires of somewhat matching appearance (they were at least round (sort of)), but we were mobile and pretty much went wherever our meager income and sixty five cents a gallon gasoline would allow us to go. Other than school obligations and letting our parents know what we were up to (yeah right), we had no responsibilities to anyone but ourselves.
Eighteen years old and full of hope, promise, dreams and confidence. But mostly full of beer, shots and crapolla.
Eighteen years old; the drinking age way back in the day, and we took good advantage of it. We were not then nor now, roaring drunks, but on occasion we certainly did skirt the boundaries of inter-dimensional exploration. The trips were always fun but the re-entries could be very bumpy.
My best friend JR and I, as we were apt to find ourselves on many occasions, in our favorite refueling station sampling the finest of Canadian brews. It was the old town hotel that had been turned into a pub and best of all; it was totally within walking distance from home and staggering distance back. Neither snow nor sleet nor rain nor dark of night could keep us from our appointed rounds (the Postal Service certainly had nothing on us). We were regular ‘Normy’s’ there and upon entering, Molson Golden Ales were just automatically poured and cheddar burgers were placed upon the grill; it was rare that we even had to be asked. We considered it our duty to be the unofficial international quality taste testers for the Molson Brewers of Ontario Canada. It was not just an adventure, it was a job. God we loved our jobs!
So there we were, ‘The Molson Boys’ as we were known; JR and I with two other friends; Tomad of Crandar and Pumpkin Head (I know you want to, but don’t ask). It was someones birthday, but who I can't recall, but somewhere amidst the toasting, boasting and roasting of each other, JR lifts his glass and proclaims; “When I become old and feeble (our Latin meaning the age of 50), I want you to take me out to the field to be shot.”
“Hear hear” we touted back, and why not! Fifty years of age was so far distant from our then present reality as to be basically a never to happen event. We were young and immortal and doing what we loved to do and we knew that it would never be any different.
Eighteen years old and life couldn’t be any sweeter.
***
I first met JR in fourth grade. He transferred into the public school from the Empire of Evil (A.K.A the parochial school system) after the class year had already started. Our teacher Ms Puero, brought JR into the class and introduced him to us. I was amazed to see this ‘kid’ who was as tall as the teacher, a god damned giant if you will (okay, she was all of five foot nothing, but she still towered over us at the time). This giant with flaming red hair and a face full of freckles then took a seat to the rear of the class and the day continued on.
Sometime shortly thereafter found our annual class trip just around the corner. One week before the trip as was customary, we needed to partner up with someone else in the class to be a ‘field trip buddy’. I usually hated this process as I was one of those kids always picked last for just about everything from kickball team selection to teachers’ helper and everything in-between. I had two things that created this problem for me; one was a debilitating shyness and the other was a hearing problem in one ear that would not be diagnosed until later years. It was just assumed that I was lazy and didn’t want to do the school work. The actual fact was that I missed a good deal of what was being said and I was too damned shy to speak up and ask for help.
So imagine my surprise when this red headed giant kid comes up to me and asks if he could be my ‘field trip buddy’. I was stunned. This position was usually assigned to me by the teacher, who matched up the other stragglers in class who couldn’t get a buddy of their own, with each other. So for someone to ask ME to be THEIR buddy was an alien experience. But he was new in class and didn’t know anybody himself and had probably poled the other contestants before getting to me, but still, Holy Cow! Yet I managed to pull it off with dazzling panache by stating; “Ahhh, Okay”. God I was slick!
As the days dwindled down to the day of the trip, we talked about how the bus ride would need to be taken. I needed to ride next to the window as I suffered from motion sickness. As it turned out, he also needed to sit by the window for the very same reason. So a compromise was made, He would sit by the window on the way there and before we would depart to come back home, he would take his medication so that I could sit by the window on the way back. I could live with that. And so the treaties and declarations of accord were signed and all was right with the world.
On the day of the trip as was arranged, he sat by the window on the road out and we talked about stuff we liked and liked to do. I found that we had a lot of common interests and found that this giant of a kid was actually a pretty nice guy and someone I thought I could easily call a friend. Between the talking and knowing that I would get my chance by the window later, the ride out was not as bad as it could have been.
The day was a fun day because any day not at school is a fun day, but as life is all too quick to remind us, the good time was over and it was time to go home. I got on the bus first and took the seat next to the window while JR went to the water fountain to take his pill. A few moments later, a lifelong seal between us would be set.
JR boarded the bus and came up to me and stated “I accidentally dropped my pill down the water fountain so I’ll need to sit by the window again, Okay?”
I started to consider the gravity of the situation; do I knock him out and through him under the wheels of the bus or do I forfeit my right to the seat. He did after all take medication for his motion sickness as opposed to me. I decided to acquiesce my position and let him have the seat based on two important things:
JR and I have had many adventures over the years and still laugh about them today, which is one of his greatest qualities; he can find humor in almost anything and with his big infectious laughter, never fails to make me laugh. One thing that I owe him more than anything else, is that he broke the shyness armor that encased me, not by anything specific, just by being who he was and letting me be who I was.
We have been a piece of each others important life events; we were both part of each others marriage ceremonies. He along with his wife (a fantastic person in her own right), are godparents to my son and both my children to this day refer to them as ‘Aunt and Uncle’. When my father died, I felt lost. When we carried his casket into the church and I spotted JR sitting in the pew off to the side, I didn’t feel so alone.
We have also had our ups and downs. There have been many times that I have wanted to skin him alive and I have no doubt that he has felt the same about me, but just like my blood brothers who I also have wanted to ‘kill’ from time to time, I would never hesitate to kill for them, and him.
***
Eighteen years old and a favor is asked; “When I become old and feeble, I want you to take me out to the field to be shot.”
Our bodies now start to betray us; our joints ache, the eyesight blurs, staying out all night means home by 9pm and while the hair may stay, it looks more gray.
Immortality is a crock and the someday becomes today.
***
This month marks JR’s Fiftieth birthday and I will fulfill his long ago request (Drop your pill down the fountain will you?). Yes dear old friend, the time has come for Vengeance!
In a week, his wife is holding a party for him at their house.
I will walk him out to his back yard (which will have to suffice for a field).
I will face him as he will face me.
I will remind him of his long ago request.
And then before he can protest, I will take out my weapon of choice.
And he will be shot:
I will pour him a healthy shot of eighteen year old single malt scotch and I will toast the kid, the man and the lifelong friend.
“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.”
~Anonymous
© 2007
April 09 Pardon My SarongJust a quick note of apologizes here (with inclusive groveling and prostration as standard equipment), to those of you out there that I have left comments to. It seems sometimes when I hit the submit button, I get a server error message and when I go back to the page, it has posted my comment repeated times, the worst I saw to date was 3x. I’m not sure what is going on there, but just to let you know that I’m not impatient with the submit button.
Now I must make way and do my taxes.
Pray for me. April 08 My Muppet PersonalityMmmmmmmmmm Pooorrrrk...
April 03 What Dreams May Come“Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.”
~Marsha Norman
“Be careful what you wear to bed at night, you never know who you'll meet in your dreams.”
~Unknown
“Dream On!”
“My wife’s response to my plans to turn our kid’s bedrooms (after they leave of course), into a Scottish style pub room.
If the first quote above is correct and my dream from this last Thursday past is a chapter in a book my soul is writing about me, then I can only guess that the title of this book will be ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest (and then slammed into the plate glass window)’.
The Dream
I was entering a wine shop that I actually used to work at years ago. As I entered the back door (which faced the parking lot), there standing at the end of the back entry hallway was Kalli, who I didn't recognize, but who recognized me. Now this was strange from the get-go because I know what Kalli looks like because of her posted pictures, but I have no pictures of myself posted (part of an all inclusive plan to hide from ‘The Man’ until the heat dies down). That she should know who I was and I not knowing her, this had to figure in as Dream Message #1.
Kalli smiling says “Hello Rocas”.
I look at her with my trademark ‘Dumb Ass’ look and say “Hello?”
“It’s me, Kalli. It is so nice to finally meet you”
At the moment she says her name, I of course recognize her and we give each other a big hug.
“What are you doing down this way and how did you find me?”
“Well PD and I are on a whirlwind tour of the world and we though we would stop by and say hi while we scrounge for cans and bottles”.
Now even though this is a dream and weird stuff always happens with nary a second look, I know even in this ethereal realm, that this does not sound normal, thus making this Dream Message #2.
So with the dumb ass look still in place and my best Mr. Spock-raised-eyebrow-of-what-the-F-are-you talking-about, added for extra Huhhh, Kali, who can obviously spot ‘Stuck On Stupid’ when she sees it, proceeded to explain;
“PD and I have figured out a way, thanks to Canadian Infomercials, on how to travel the world by collecting spent bottles and cans while in route and making a boatload of cash while doing it.”
As if to verify her statement, she holds out a fistful of cash; “See, I just turned in the latest batch to this store and he gave me fifty thousand dollars”.
Now I’m thinking 1st; I just asked this employer of mine (apparently I still worked there) for a lousy $1.00 an hour raise (USD of course, not any of that funny Canadian), which he of course refuses, and then turns around and gives fifty thousand dollars for a bagful of bottles and cans, in a State that doesn’t even participate in deposit redemption and, in a Fine Wine Shop to boot!
2nd; did I mention that this employer of mine is a Rat Bastard!
So here we are with the numbers 50,000 and 1, which I can only figure as Dream Message #3.
Kali gently re-attaches my jaw (which has fallen to the floor) to my face and leads me by the arm outside. She points up the road, where off in the distance, I can see PD scrambling from one side of the street to the other, picking up wayward bottles and cans and then depositing them into a sack that is held by what appears to be a teenage boy about 15 years old.
As we slowly ascend the hill towards the busily foraging PD, Kali proceeds to tell me of all the places they have visited thus far and of the places yet to go. When we reach the top of the hill, Kali points to the door of an old inn and tells me that I should go inside and eat. I sit myself at a table with people I do not know.
The inn is very old but still an active establishment. It casts a very warm and elegant glow about the dining area with candle light and fireplaces on each wall. The waiter comes to our table where he places in front of me my dinner (which I did not order).
Now I won’t tell you what it was that I was served, because I know that it would bother many of you out there that this would be served at all, but suffice it to say, it is certainly not something I would ever eat intentionally.
I proceeded to eat but had to stop after a couple of bites, because while it did taste like chicken, I didn’t like the way it was staring back at me.
So now we have as Dream Message #4:
The number 15
Old inn
Soft Ambient light
I leave the inn and start to head back down the hill to my car. As I start back up the hill on the way home, I stop at the light and PD comes up to my window. She places her hand on my shoulder and says; “Don’t worry about it; we are going to re-post question #4 (Obviously Dream Message #5).
I nod, thank her and then proceed onward into the early evening horizon…
AANNNNNNNND CUT! THAT’S A RAP!!
Usually with dreams you have that dividing moment between asleep and awake, where the reality is still merged with the fantasy, making it is something that has actually occurred.
With this dream however, I was sure that it was something far beyond just a dream right from the retort of the starters’ pistol. Since then I have gotten out my dream diagnosing tools:
‘The Handbook Of Dream Analysis’ by Dr Emil A. Gutheil, M.D.
‘A Study of Dreams And The Spirit It Teaches’ by A.K. Hall
‘The Big Box Of Giant Sourdough Pretzels’ By Hanover Pretzels of Pennsylvania
‘The Glenlivet 18 Year Old Ancient Reserve Single Malt Scotch’ by Scotish Saints
I have previously stated that I believe that dreams teach and that we need to listen closely and never discount what dreams may come our way. The following key dream messages were relayed to me:
After several days of tense analytical study, I finally exhausted all my research material (HICCUUPPP), and have come to this inescapable conclusion:
I got nothing!
Now excuse me, I need to get myself a head bandage and then clean the plate glass window.
"We are such stuff as dreams are made on and our little life is rounded with a sleep..."
~William Shakespeare -- From The Tempest
© 2007 |
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