The Nitrogen helps me remember funny things....

Remember when we were driving back to the dorms and I wore your riding helmet and pretended to be a severely fancy, severely retarded person?  You laughed and laughed, and could barely drive, and it was a good, warm day.  I miss you like that.

This type of stuff creeps me out.

This is handwritten!

I'm camping. I'm a camper. I camp.

Now that I'm a few weeks removed from it, I can sit back and reflect a little bit with ya'll.  August 14th through the 17th I spent in the Smokey Mountains of North Carolina camping for the first time ever.  In my life.  Ever.  On Wednesday the 13th I left my car with Lesley in the morning so she could get everything packed, and she dropped me off at work.  It was a beautiful overcast day, and it was cool for a change.  This summer has been wicked.  Humid and hot, with very little relief.  There was relief this day.  Work couldn't go by fast enough that day.  Of course I was busting ass to get out early, or at least on time.  Luckily, we had been having some slow weeks.  I don't even think we had started the mini-cookie marathon at that point.  We were out by 5-something, and Lesley and I were on the road with Coco.  She made me drive the first leg.  Probably a good idea in hindsight as I had tons of energy, and would have just fidgeted in the passenger seat for four hours.  At this point in the afternoon it had started spitting rain, and I was at peace with the world.  I was leaving town, soothing my gypsy blood with a girl that means the world to me.  And the mountains make her smile, and when she smiles nothing could be wrong.

So, we're on the road, fast, cool, listening to something awesome on the stereo.  We stop on the way up for dinner at a Chili's.  We had a waiter that reminded me, somewhat, of Clarence Greenwood.  That was cool.  I don't think Lesley picked up on it.  We had the old flying or invisibility conversation, and I started geeking out on superhero powers because I was pumped about being on vacation.  I'm actually getting pretty excited just sitting here writing about it because of all the cool that is coming up.  And all the heartbreak and intrigue and mystery too.  (That's just to keep you reading.  Cheap writer's trick.)

Back on the road with a meal in our stomachs and a large, grey tarp courtesy of the good people at Big Lots, we were well on the way.  I was now a little subdued by a big mouth burger and several iced teas.  Comedy on the stereo.  We played some Patton Oswalt, Bill Hicks, Henry Rollins and Nick Swardson.  Nick was funny.  I had never heard his stuff before.  The farting ghost gets me.  All the way through Asheville and on towards Brevard, the rain had subsided a little.  Then, the directions got all screwed up.  Google Maps told us to take a left instead of a right, and suddenly there's this biblical flood coming down and we're trying to get to the campsite by 11 when the gates close.  Yes, it was 11 at night, raining and woody.  We were also at a higher elevation, so if we had been trying to bake brownies we would have had a tough time converting the recipe for high altitude baking.  But, that wasn't a problem.

Lesley decided, with her irrefutable sense of direction, that we should go back and try right instead of left.  The campsite might as well have been on the fucking road.  It's just aimed at our asses, and if either of us had better eyes we would have seen it in the first place.  So, we screech in and I hop out to register.  Lesley walks the dog.  It's raining still.  The people at the gate are incredibly nice.  I would have liked to stay at the gate longer, but it's been a long day at this point and I want to sleep in a tent with a wet dog.

So, we get to the campsite.  This place was nice.  Kind of the Marriot of camping sites.  Don't listen to me though.  It's still my first time, but it was pretty nice compared to the other campsite we stayed at later that trip.  Clean bathrooms, nice site, good people.  It's shitting rain now.  It's shitting rain, and it's getting caught on the leaves and collecting and then falling on us.  So, we're trying to set up a dry tent to sleep in under a waterfall.  Coco is smarter than us, and she's trying to sleep in the car.  She's a city dog.  Luckily, the tent only takes two minutes to set up.  The air mattress is blowing up (yeah, I'd love to tell you we roughed it on the gravel in sleeping bags, but... no) and we're trying to keep the sheets and bags dry.  Everything gets set up, I check out the bathrooms and we tuck in for a night of listening to rain fall outside, and being cozy in a tent.  Kind of perfect for my first ever night in a tent.

The next morning, Lesley wakes up and walks Coco.  I get up and take a shower.  Before we left I had really only slept at the house the week before we left.  I hadn't taken a shower in a while, and I wasn't going to wait any longer when there was one just sitting there not being used.  It was great!  Like the showers at school, but timed.  I had to keep pressing a button to keep the water going.  After a while it got to be pretty cold standing in the morning air with soap all over.  I got out, and Lesley made breakfast.  Eggs, toast and tea.  Pretty sweet.  I think that was the last time I had hot tea.  Damn.  I need to get back on that.

After getting the site cleaned up and talking with our neighbors a bit, we started out for the nature center for some hike recommendations.  An old man with a comforting voice told us to go see Looking Glass Falls, and also recommended a hike.  The falls were cool.  The water was ice cold, and people were swimming in it.  Coco freaked out with all the noise and people, so Lesley left me to wander the water.  I waded in and took some shots of the falls.  I enjoyed the loss of feeling in my feet as I wandered the water bed.  Tingly and sandy.

We left the falls for the hike that was recommended to us.  Little did we know it would take a couple days and we'd have to eat Coco to stay alive.  I think the guy at the nature center said it would take a few hours.  I guess I didn't anticipate a few hours feeling so long being on windy, uphill trails.  It felt like it took nine hours.  It was beautiful the whole time.  We stopped at the halfway point, and walked out on a ledge for some unleavened bread and water.  We talked about how Jewish we were being.  We spent a long time just looking out at the sky, the eagle's soaring and searching for their next meal, and the peaks of distant, blue mountains.

The hike down was arduous, and seemed longer than it should have.  We were all pretty tired.  At this point it was getting close to dinner.  The sun would be setting soon, and we had to get some provisions.

We stopped at the store for some essentials: wine, sprouts, tomatoes and pasta.  We got s'more ingredients, which ended up being dinner.  Neither of us were hungry, and s'mores didn't involve turning on the gas stove.  Before the sun went down too far, I ran up to a nearby Wal-Mart and got some chairs and Connect Four.  Lesley has a thing for Connect Four and her back was bothering her, hence the chairs.

The rest of the night we spent talking about the past and what we've missed of each other over the years of off and on again friendship.  The whole trip was spent doing a lot of that.  I've just felt like I missed so much of her growing up and becoming this great person that she is now.  And it was voluntary.  With my little ten year obsession, I've always left and disappeared from her life when things looked like they might hurt too much.  That's who I was.  I'm not interested in being that person anymore.  So, I'm soaking it all up; everything I can, happy to be back with my friend.  We caught up on relationships and talked about things going on these days.  It was a good night, and we ended the evening with a few rousing games of Connect Four.  It was a good night.  By far, my favorite of that trip.

The next day we picked up camp and headed off to Asheville to find our next campsite.  We planned to see Luke that night.  We would all meet up in Asheville.  Lesley was trying to get in touch with an old friend, Chad, so he could meet us as well.  No luck on that end, but we did have an easier time finding the campsite this time.  The only problem was that the free campsites a little further down the road were much nicer.  Mostly taken, but nice.  We drove up and down the mountain, and all around to find one that wasn't spoken for at this late point in the evening.  Finally, we came across a pull off on the side of the road.  Lesley noticed it, as I was about to drive past it.  I jerked the wheel, and slammed the E-break on.  I ran down the path to the site, and I wish I could tell you that there was someone there and I peeled around the corner screaming and waving my arms, but it was empty.  I walked back up and told her to grab the shit out of the car, and make a flag because we were claiming it.  I wish I could describe just how beautiful this site was.  Nestled in the crevice of two hills, it sat, dark and cool next to a large stream.  Several small waterfalls dotted the stream at the edges of both fields of vision.  Over the fire pit were two downed trees, creating a sort of canopy.  Tall trees and lush, green leaves surrounded us.  It was so peaceful.  If I could build a Tumbleweed home there, I would.  Maybe someday if George Bush keeps selling off national protected land, I will.

The plan to visit Luke got sideswiped by the late hour, and the fact that my phone was totally dead.  Instead we cooked pasta, and tried as hard as we could to make a fire from moss covered, wet wood.  We went through a free NC map, a cardboard box, some phone books and a couple marriage licenses trying to get the thing started, and it just fizzled the whole night.  Lesley's back was getting to her, so I took over on the pasta.  Made way too much, and ended up feeding a mass of it to Coco the next day.

The site was beautiful, and it was a good night.  Except for one thing: Banshees.

Around three in the morning (and this is coming from Lesley because it didn't wake me up, and neither did she) Lesley awakened to what she describes as a high moan on the wind.  A chilling sound.  Apparently, this went on for a while, but she dozed back off, not fearing for our safety.  Later, about six, the noise started again, and was much closer.  Lesley awoke again, and so did I this time.  I can't sleep too late outdoors.  Thus is the problem with camping.  Aside from the early hour, this time the moaning and howling was much closer.  I won't try and scare you with the details.  We were scared enough.  Especially seeing as we had a dog in heat in the tent with us, and soon there were footsteps outside the tent.  Heavy footsteps.  Something large.  We just laid there staring at each other.  I made sure I knew where my knife was in the tent.  Eventually the noises went away, and Lesley dozed back off.  I started to think about some stuff, and it began to piss me off, so I got up and went for a small walk down to the stream.  I sat on the rocks and tried to get my head together for a while.  Soon, the footsteps were back, and this time I didn't have a thin fabric between me and whatever it was.  I turned to find a hound.  It was a pretty dog, but looked worn.  It was cold and wet, and it found a pile of leaves to lie down on.  The two of us sat thinking about the problems of our life.  I was on vacation.  Moreso, I was on vacation in the mountains of North Carolina with a girl who I've loved for damn near ten years now.  Why was I thinking about problems in my life?  Because there are problems.  And my head never shuts off, which can be a blessing and a curse.  Consider yourselves lucky, drunks and drug users.

After a time, I attempted to get the dog to follow me back to the campsite.  He slowly got the idea, and eventually followed me everywhere.  I talked with him and gave him some loving pets and pats.  He seemed a little more content.  Once Lesley and Coco came out of the tent, the hound took a liking to Coco.  Didn't care so much for Lesley, but what are you gonna do?

We took the name off the transponder collar the dog had on.  Unfortunately, a tracking collar only works to about ten miles out.  These dogs had come far.  Lesley and I were going to go down the mountain and get some service to call the owner.  A few sites down, we saw that there were some very similar dogs that had treed a cat.  We found out that they were the same owner's dogs, and had just gotten separated.  The man at the site had been watching them, and was waiting for the owner to show up.  We went back to the campsite and took it down.  We were going to go to our original site that had already been paid for, and was less remote in case something bad actually happened.

That day we spent on the Blue Ridge Parkway... wait.  I missed something.  See, now I'm too far removed.  I actually just texted Lesley to remind me of the course of events.  In actuality, before the banshee night, we had spent that day driving to various locations.  Lesley wanted me to see this drive she loves.  It was beautiful.  It was everything she had said it was, but she wasn't too thrilled with it this time around.  I don't know why.  We drove through Hot Springs, where she and I had last spent any amount of time together before reconnecting in Raleigh these years later.  We hiked up Max Patch, and looked out to the horizon.  You can truly see why they are called the Great Smokey Mountains from up there.  We withstood the wind and chill to have some flatbread, cheese and cucumber sauce.  It was a beautiful afternoon, and the point at which I started to fuck up and get nervous about my head messing with me.

Up there, after hiking all that and doing nothing but smiling and having a good day it just seemed right to kiss Lesley.  After the recent stint, it didn't seem like it might be too far off.  Later, I would admit this urge to her before we drifted off to sleep, and she just smiled.  And to this day I don't know if that meant, "Aw, that's cute" or "Don't do this shit now and ruin it."  I fucked up again when we went to see Luke.  All night I felt like something was clicking again, and I tried to hold her hand on the way back to the campsite from Brevard.  I might as well have been holding the gear shift.  I didn't even get a squeeze back.  It's hard when you're driving in the fog of the mountains to come to terms with the fact that the one person you want in the world no longer wants you back.

So, we got back to the campsite, and I was a little peeved.  Couldn't sleep.  I read for a while as she slept next to me with her dog cuddled between us as a barrier to any other stupidity I might try that night.  Rest assured, reader, your narrator Humble Humbert did nothing despite his irritating natural persistence, and the anger and sick emptiness had worn off by morning.

But how was the time with Luke?  Amazing.  His friend Lyndsay was visiting as well, so we all went out to a local spot in Brevard.  The meal was excellent.  Catching up was even better.  I miss that kid, and I'm jealous of the life he has out in the mountains.  His job seems like fun, getting to travel.  He'll be down this way soon, and I look forward to seeing him again.  Like I said before, either Lesley is a great actress or she was truly happy.  You can see it in the eyes.  I think she had a great time, and this is what gave me the confusion.  Sometimes I just misread people so bad I get lost in my own fantasies.  It was a great night, nonetheless.

The last day we spent with Coco at the North Carolina State Arboretum.  It was a nice place.  Duke Gardens is nicer.  But it was fun.  We had some IHOP that morning.  The drive home was uneventful until the phone calls started and the problems of the world started flooding back in.  My mistake thinking past decisions would make things easier.

Despite all those later issues, I had a fucking amazing time, and I miss being up there every day.  I definitely need a life where I can pick up and leave often.  Nothing soothes the soul like a short getaway from all we create here in civilization.

A big thank you goes out to Lesley and Coco for being my traveling buddies.  Couldn't have done it without you, Lesley.

What waking up alone is like.

So, the big plan for tomorrow morning is to make up a big bowl (where the hell is my nice, big, black bowl?  Who took it when we moved?) of Cocoa Puffs and eat them slowly, creating a pool of semi-chocolately milk.  After that, I will have another bowl of cereal, but the second go-round will be Frosted Mini Wheats... in the chocolate milk... with a huge spoon for an optimum milk to mini wheat ratio.  Very cold orange juice would be good with this, but I think we're out right now.  Frosted glasses of orange juice.

Disses

One should probably never use the diss, "Your mama is so fat she far outweighs the evil humankind does to one another."  People don't really know how to take it.

A little prose poem while the fumes are floating

I stared at the small of your back religiously for a portion of that summer night.  That portion where the sky lay on your dress like my head rested on your shoulder.

The crux of that smell I've torn down your home for.

The crux of that smell and your Confirmation and coupons.

The crux of that smell and the promise of twenty cents off.

Ah, inflation as you stand and your dress hangs off your breast.  Outside, the wind might flutter the hem, reaching to be touched.  I swear I would count the stitches through the hardest morning eyes, scared of falling back to sleep and holding all of you in for ten more hours.  No water.  No air.  Just the sand of the cruelest myth.  The one that brings you how I want you.  Because all we do is sleep like june bugs whose legs are too long and excited, and we toss and turn ourselves in a dervish of sleep.  I know these cuts are from you.  You can't hide forever, though you came close, hidden behind those bricks and mortar, away from the arcs of light keeping us awake.

Yes, I stared at the small of your back religiously for a portion of that summer night that has become such a microcosm of the domicile you gave up and I dwell on.  And you were gone until just then.  This may be hard for you, but it's not killed me yet.  A decade spent remembering you, and cold hands and the dugout where we held them, and your unaddressed letter (it was sweet).  The circulation in my legs is gone, but I won't need them.  All the shores I will conquer have come and gone, in more capable hands now.  You'll find I am no ruler, though I have, with confidence.

Summer looks

If you're ever in need of an outfit that says, "I was born in a bathroom on prom night, and daddy left to pursue his porn career" then check out this website.

Cameron's Graduation and Golf Emporium

Every spare moment of this past weekend was spent with Uncle Mark and Larry golfing it up at Knight's Play.  Day, night, getting asked to leave because it was midnight.  We were there.  We saw every hole and filled it with golf balls.  We cheered.  We cried.  We sliced (more than anything else).

Check my score cards yo!  (Yes, that's a 2 on the 22nd hole.  -1 par.  And yes, it was also my second time on a course.  Check the numbers.)

Oh Netflix. How come you don't dance no more?

"Because you enjoyed one of the best nature documentaries ever made, as well as enjoying Ricky Gervais' comedic timing/writing..."

Action Item Lists

Seriously, with all the perfect conversations I've ever acted out in my head, you would think some of them would come to fruition in real, actual life.  All the things I think to say that would lead to someone saying something perfect.  All the things I build up the guts to say to people, and just get totally let down.  Are people as shy and scared as I am?  I hope so.  Because my heart is starting to ache from being dropped so much.

Haikus from work

Wrote these the other day while packing -90˚ bread.  Enjoy.

Eyes never open

on their own.

The winter mornings of spring.

____

Petals dapple deep wood shavings

Tulips, neon against violet evenings.

Concord Mills Tooth Whitening Kiosk: Interview 1

I'd like to introduce a new, hopefully weekly, portion of this blog.  Time permitting, I hope to be able to get out as much as possible to visit some new friends at the Concord Mills Outlet Mall.  Mike and Kelly work in the tooth whitening kiosk near the Circuit City and the Bass Pro Shop, a star, if not the star, attraction at the outlet mall.  I got a chance to sit down with Mike and Kelly a little under a week ago, and we got to talking.

I: Mike, Kelly, it's good to meet you both.

M: We're glad to be here, Ian.

K: Likewise.

I: I guess, what the readers will want to know first: how did you both get into the teeth whitening game?

K: Mike tells it better than I do, really.  He was here at the beginning.

M: It's true.  I've been here since the inception.

I: So, does this require any special medical degree?

M: Is a philosophy degree a medical degree? (laughs)  Really, I had been working for a Verizon kiosk in Charlotte, and when the teeth whitening booth opened up in their mall I tried it out.  That was around Christmas of 2006.  They were able to get years of coffee stains off my teeth before seeing my family for the holidays.  I knew this was going to take off.  I just needed a small business loan and a location.

I: And that lead you here?

M: This was actually my backup.  I was originally trying to get in across the street.  A shopping center was opening up at the time, and there were storefronts for lease.  From my years with the Verizon kiosk I knew that our customers were always more comfortable in the store than they were at the kiosk.  People tend to just buy car chargers and face plates for their phones at the kiosk.  Customers will do their major purchases at the stores, and pay bills.  So, getting a storefront was key.  Unfortunately, Subway was quick, and knew the legal game a little better than I did.

K: They're pretty big here.

M: Yeah.  And, like I said, they know what they're doing.  So, I took up shop here.  I bought a franchise and got "the kit."  You know, the chairs, the lasers.

K: The chairs are the best part.

M: They're pretty comfy.

I: So, you didn't want to set up down by the movie theater or the candy shop on the other end of the mall?

K: We don't like to seem preachy. (laughs)

M: I figured the Bass shop draws people in here like gangbusters, so what better place.  This is prime real estate you're sitting in.  And the peanut roaster is close by, so it smells good.  People buy the peanuts and get some skin in their teeth, and by the time they get to us, they're thinking about their teeth.

K: You can see them coming.  They hold their jaws a certain way.

I: I've noticed from watching you two that you don't jump out at the mall patrons.

M: Like Kelly said, we don't like to seem preachy.

K: This is one of those services that people either know they need, or it just seems extravagant to them.

M: Yeah.  They'll come to us if they need us.  Otherwise, we're content to watch those with confident smiles just walk past.  We don't want to scare people off.

K: I know how I feel when one of those lotion girls comes up to me in the mall.  We treat people as we would want to be treated.

I: And this method works?

M: Me and Kelly are pretty comfortable, so far.

K: Yeah, we're not hurting for business.  The free time we get lets us do all kinds of stuff too.  We're really each other's best friend.

I: I suppose this doesn't affect your personal lives too much?

M: It's great for friends.  I don't have a single friend that doesn't have a bright smile.

K: Guys love a mouth full of white teeth.  It's hypnotizing, I guess.

M: I know I like a good smile on a woman.

I: I can't argue with that, I guess.  So, Kelly, where did you come into this equation?

K: Well, it's not a great story.  I'm Mike's sister-in-law.  See, I told you it wasn't a great story. (laughs)

I: You're married Mike?  How about you, Kelly?

K: Nope.  Haven't found Mr. Right yet.  This job helps.  I do like an outdoorsy guy, and that's what Bass attracts.  If I wanted a fancier guy we could always move towards the Banana Republic outlet. (both laugh)

M: They have better smiles.

I: That's probably true.  Judging by my smile, what would you say I am?

M: Open up. (examining teeth)  I'd say you're more of a city boy with a love of sweets.

I: That's amazing.  Can you do that with anyone?

M: It's really the first thing I notice about people.  We were always told to smile for customers at the Verizon kiosk, but working here I really understand the depths of those smiles I was giving out, you know.

I: Did you notice Kelly's when you first met her?

M: Sure.  When my wife introduced us I noticed she had a bright smile, but I was still with Verizon, so she just had pretty teeth to me.  When I opened up this place she was really excited to be a part of it when my wife told her about it.

K: It's true.

I: And Kelly, is there any jealousy now between your sister and you over Mike's attention?

K: No.  I suppose she gets to see him a lot more than I do.  Of course, most of that time is sleeping. (both laugh)

M: There's no jealousy at all, Ian.

I: Well, I'm going to wrap this up and go get an Orange Julius.  I thank you both for taking time to kick back and share some of your story with my readers.

K: Oh sure.

M: Thanks for coming by.  We'll see you again soon.  Remember to brush after that Orange Julius.  Or chew some gum.

That's all for this week.  Next week, we'll be kicking out the really good questions.  Co-worker fantasies and pop culture likes and dislikes.  A big thank you to Mike and Kelly, and to the good people at Concord Mill Outlet Mall.  See you all next week.

Porn stars of Raleigh

 I think I've seen this girl walking around Hillsborough Street.  Look her up.  She's hot.  Her name is Allie Sin.  How oddly appropriate.  Kind of like all porn star names.  How cool would it be to bump into her, or sit next to her at a cafe or something?  Maybe get her to laugh and get into her good graces so we could hang out.  Listen to "What's Going On" on a rainy Sunday in smokey lighting.

Tossin' bread and all of a sudden...

I was nearly attacked by two foxes tonight, and I'm not ashamed at the fact I know only the words, "Fame... makes a man take things over" and then I trail off into quieter song.

With the foxes though, luckily Greg was outside smoking a B&M, having a quilting circle on his phone.  He hung up just in time to yell my name, and the foxes scampered off into the hills.  You see, they're attracted to the bread.  They can't get enough of the stuff.  Scott was throwing loaves out into the rushes while I emptied the end of the day barrels.  He told me that, around ten the previous night, those same foxes had barked at him with that creepy electric fox bark (the name of my solo project).

Lifting the barrel up and into the dumpster I began to cogitate on how to deal with the fox.  When one is attacked, often the attacker has the element of surprise.  Now, if an attacker got the better of me by surprise, it wouldn't say much for the time I spend thinking at work.  I spend eight to nine hours a day thinking about anything and everything.  I work out arguments in my head, bending them to suit my goals.  I balance my finances.  I compose.  Certainly, the skirmish between a fox and myself isn't beyond my realm of design.  Get low.  By spreading the arms one makes oneself look as big as possible.  Like the eyes on a butterfly's wings.  This opens a person to attack or retreat by the fox.  If the fox retreats, then the bread is dumped and the time clock is waiting.  Clock out.  Get a sandwich.  If the fox attacks, feeling Napoleonically threatened, you're in the perfect position to distract it with your waving hands.  Treat it as a cobra.  Kick it in the mouth.  Or just the head in general.  Disgust it with speed.  If there are two, don't rely too heavily on putting that foot down.  After the first fox is kickticated, swing the kicking leg back to throw your body in a jumping fashion, backwards.  Land and kick again, for the other fox will most certainly be lunging by now.  Side swipe him.  The dumpster is right there.  Use it to your advantage by kicking the foxes body into the can.  You are strong.  You are swift.  I can't see how fast you're moving, but it's pretty fast.  These foxes are no match for your defense mechanisms.

Notice how I don't use my hands.  Leaves a person open for rabies.  The only time I want to be foaming at the mouth is when someone gives me a virgin Apple Pie Shot.  Mmm.

So, other than getting attacked by rabid xenomorphs in the disguise of foxes, things have been chill here.  Work is getting to that summer point.  The days are slow.  Only about 1200 cases a day.  Not bad at all.  When the weather gets to the same point, things should get pretty awesome.  Yeah, grammar/spelling nazi.  I used "pretty" as a modifier.  Sit on it and spin pretty fast.  The guys like to play hackie sack, and I just happen to have one with me in my bag at all times.

New to the team at work are Clay and Bonnie.  Both have kind of brought me out of my shell a little more.  I feel comfortable around them for some reason.  They're wicked nice and always have something cool to talk about.  I didn't get to vote on them due to a ballot mishap, but I would have voted positively.

Outside of work, I've been playing a lot of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.  What an endeavor.  It's fucking huge.  Should take forever.  I have Star Wars: Battlefronts 2 and Predator: Concrete Jungle as backups for when I get tired of trying to beat an impossibly long game.

I went to see Arlo Guthrie the other week.  He was playing in Durham, and I got tickets as an unbirthday present.  Fucking awesome show!  One of the best ever in my whole life.  Ever.  He played my favorite song, "My Darkest Hour."  He did some ragtime stuff, Alice's Restaurant, City of New Orleans, This Land is Your Land, and one of his dad's unreleased songs.  God it was a good show.  Oh, and by the way, I shook his hand after the show!  How often do you get to shake the hand of a man that knew an intimate side of Woody that no one else ever saw?  A man who knew Leadbelly and Pete Seeger.  A man that took part in shaping a generation of seekers and wanderers.  That took a part in shaping my childhood as Uncle Larry would sit me down and recite the story songs to me, helping me learn them and make them my own to entertain my friends later on in life.  I actually got a CD signed for Larry.  He should enjoy that a lot.  And I got this for myself:

Pretty cool, huh?

It's late.  I need to get some sleep, kids.  More posts are on the way as my brain is bursting with things to talk about.  Stay clean.  Use jimmy hats.

For Steve

Apparently, I have fans.  Fans that love my desire to become Norm Abram's apprentice (or at least suck up to him as much as I can digitally).  So, I've combined two of my favorite activities: talking about Norm Abram, and making big dick jokes.  For the fans:

My dick is so big Norm Abram once asked it for woodworking tips.

Yes. Yes yes yes. YES!

I wish I had tools!

My little town...

I'd just like to share this article with the few readers I have.  I'm proud to say that these are the people I come from.  Slipknot and a mother selling her sons car because she found booze in it.  I come from a place where you'll learn your lesson, no matter the cost.