Died Once Before

Is there a new post? Yes, but not here

2006-03-10T19:08:00.000-05:00

You can find my new blog update here, ya playaz!

2006-02-23T12:37:00.000-05:00

Here it is again, but not broken! Or, the Or the iTunes link.

I hope for my sake,

2006-02-04T11:55:00.000-05:00

You haven't all stopped reading this. I'm going to try again again again. Here.

Are you clicking yet? STOP SCROLLING!!!

Take you there so you can shout!

2005-12-12T11:41:00.000-05:00

So, yeah. Everybody will be back soon. I will be working feverishly to make money for all the gifts I should've bought. I will be making music with the guys when I am not working or chillaxing with E. She rox. Bleach 60 was fantabulous. My Ethics exam was stinko except I think I did a really good job on it. Now all I have to do is get shit in order for next semester. Hope all goes well for youall and your tests. Wishing you a happy holidays.

I forgot to mention that The Second Hellswar, part I II and III are all on my psp and I'm currently reading them. If you'd like to read these amazing writings for yourself, then clicky the link on the right that says "Charles Croe" and check it out. Its based on an unwritten text called the Epic. Its basically the ultimate fantasy of my three best friends and I. If you have trouble figureing out who's who...

Keith = Greybyrd
James = 'Connell
Croe = himself of course
Neko = yours truly

Architecture of Density

I've been holding back so much from you.

2005-12-07T11:40:00.000-05:00

Ever since I began dating Elizabeth, my posts have been far less detailed and I have move toward a trend of keeping things from you all. The truth is that before, I knew exactly where my line was drawn. I knew exactly what I felt comfortable telling you. I was brutally honest.

My life is no longer solely mine. I share it with someone dear to me, and I would never want to dishonor her by giving information out that she would be ashamed of. However, it is to my better judgement that some of my close friends who still read this site wonder how I am doing and would like a bit of insight into how I've been lately.

Changes around the house.

I work for H&R Block doing crap in offices every once in a while.

This week I started back up with Wilson Improvement, which is actually this guy who pays me to hand him tools. Its pretty sweet and we go to a lot of wonderful places just fixing old houses around Bay City.

Our puppy was born! Sorry this picture is crappy, but thats all they sent us from the farm. She's almost 3 weeks old and that means that she'll be home with us in January. Now all I have to do is Ace my exams. I've been asked to name her, but I'm having some trouble. I've been leaning on Cassiopeia. If you've got ideas, please send them in. My father and I are just too excited about this.

I other news, we purchased a high-definition TV with extended cable and several HD Channels. I've still not beaten Shadow of the Colossus, but thats mostly because its so good, I feel Guilty playing it alone. No one else will appreciate it when I talk about it. That said, come over to my house and watch me play videogames. I realize how ridiculously boring that sounds, but hey, this TV looks good. And at least then you'll know about SotC.

Bleach is still going strong and ep59 was my favorite possible of the whole series. I need to see more.

Elizabeth did come over yesterday at about 6:30. I had my dad drop me off after getting PHD's delicious pizza rolls. (btw fsckingrcks.) She was obviously exhausted. So after a quick thought to chill our bones (It is getting colder outside,) We retired to my brand new memory foam single. I have eliminated the box spring and I sleep better than ever. So does she, apparently. She slept straight through three episodes of Habane Renmei. The last three, in fact. The series was good, but the end disappointed me. I hope there's some more good stuff on all those DVD's I stole from Greg. (Sorry, Man. I see your dad on Friday so keep your fingers crossed.)

Basilica of the Heart...

2005-11-20T13:03:00.000-05:00

The problem is that if we really attempt to use the power of love to save the world, we're destined to fail miserably. Our only saving grace will be that we tried. It would be an honorable demise, but I don't know how many people would really make it all the way. They are weak and sad and don't have patience or strength. They are the ones that fail us, like so many have. It is our children that will save the world. Yes, I will put it all on their shoulders because that is the way of the world.

Do U DS?

2005-11-17T14:22:00.000-05:00

My Nintendo WiFi Friend code is

532635
408559

I'll be playing Mario Kart, so look me up!

Post yours if you got one, or just ask wtf I'm talking about.

This is one of the best band wagons this year to jump on.

Cloudy skies, cloudy attitude

2005-11-09T17:45:00.000-05:00

I wrote these haikus in class today:

Mario is dead
Master Chief killed him last year
I miss my D-pad

Coffee tastes okay
My father is a hero
He, we drink it black

I love this haiku
It's irony is stunning
Too bad its no good

Then I guess I wrote this ( I guess ).

I studied the easel over his shoulder. Saturdays typically led to a relatively stark art room. Most students were still sleeping in their dorms.

"Its easier for me to do this kind of thing now that spring is convincing the apple trees to blossom. I just wish I could convince that girl to like me." Beautifully put, but the intention or perhaps the perspective made me feel like I had just scraped my fingernail on some sandpaper. Not quite painful.

"I'm not sure it works like that." Ambiguous advice had always been my style. I got noticed but was seldom remembered.

"Of course it does. I'm a man. She should do what I want." He said.

"I know." Sarcasm is often misinterpreted. There's only one way two people could discuss something in such a serious demeanor and mean the complete opposite of what they say. Principles in practice dictate against such sad and disgusting generalities. We accept the 'Gaijin Glare' as equivalent exchange for the chance to laugh a bit on the inside. Its knowing we both think its funny without saying a word or even acknowledging the possibility we're amused. Us hopeless romantics live just like that. Its our only saving grace we're funny as hell.

Well thats it for today. If you have iTunes get the channelfrederator podcast. Do it.

eat up bitches

The Intelligent Man's Dilemma Or, Freindless Elitist

2005-11-03T17:39:00.000-05:00

If I had a problem with someone, I'd let them know, right? I'd like to think so. If there was something that kept us from being friends, would I still let them know? Its become clear that the answer is 'sometimes not.' So of course, I can keep some of the friends I have, although I may not like them as much as I let on, eh? Should I continue to assume that I have not seriously wronged them in a way that would make such a hypothetical occurrence mutual? If I am to maintain a semblance of self confidence, yes. That is to say, I pride myself on my self-awareness and it would be devastating to learn that I am not liked. there are, however, two sides to the coin. The dilemma thickens.

Very few I have met actively seek to obtain a cyclical methodology of raising their own consciousness, furthering their pursuit of truth, and refining their ethical values. These are the ones that I tend to consider as intelligent as I, for this is precisely the way I attempt to live, day in and day out. Less intelligent folk still have a lot of value, but the well of information they have to share soon becomes dry and I am forced to re-evaluate the worth of my time with them. This sounds inherently selfish, and in truth, I have not been able to provide a good argument against that point besides the fact that further time spent with a dry well is a game. I would be lying to you stagnant folk that cling to me, fooling you into thinking I still vastly enjoy the time we spend together, and while some may feel that ignorance is bliss, I know that it violates your dignity to stretch out such a farce.

The kids that make the cut, though, they do their own thing. They want me to know that this is their song, this is their show, and this is their dream. They demand that I accept it, although don't require me to love them for what they do, just how they're going through with it. That's what they're proud of. They come to me with their mistakes. They accept the gifts I give, and surprise me with ones of their own. We exchange advice. We travel together and try to spend some kind of regular time together. We touch: a handshake, a hug, something. Occasionally, and this is really rare, one person will say to the other, "You're a good friend." We grow up side by side, miles or oceans alike. I appreciate you smart folk. keep on trucking.

But they do their own thing, like I said. That means they are gone. They don't have time for me anymore. Again, I'm left alone with friends who don't appreciate me. It may be because I am an ass, and that I don't treat them with the respect and kindness they deserve. Maybe I subconsciously respect them less because they aren't after the truth. But they still wear clothes off my back. They still wear those gifts every day. And I can only shiver. I can only fucking shiver alone.

The answer lies in her heart. Somehow she's got everything the perfect friend could ever have, and more. I'm part of her dream. She knows that finding the truth involves holding my hand. She believes that our combined minds are greater than our individual consciousness. She wants to discover the real answers behind what's right and how she should act.

She's pretty dammed smart, and she loves me.

"Right back at ya, babe."

P.S. Go see Weather Man.

Myers Briggs, are they right about me?

2005-10-23T23:45:00.000-04:00

The Protector

Portrait of an INFJ - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
(Introverted Intuition with Extraverted Feeling)

As an INFJ, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you take things in primarily via intuition. Your secondary mode is external, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit with your personal value system.

INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type, making it the most rare of all the types.

INFJs place great importance on havings things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. They are usually right, and they usually know it. Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into their instincts and intuitions. This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk.

INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations. They get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. As an extreme example, some INFJs report experiences of a psychic nature, such as getting strong feelings about there being a problem with a loved one, and discovering later that they were in a car accident. This is the sort of thing that other types may scorn and scoff at, and the INFJ themself does not really understand their intuition at a level which can be verbalized. Consequently, most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of themselves, and can be secretive.

But the INFJ is as genuinely warm as they are complex. INFJs hold a special place in the heart of people who they are close to, who are able to see their special gifts and depth of caring. INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger. They may tend to internalize conflict into their bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.

Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities, they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubborness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve themselves and the world around them. They believe in constant growth, and don't often take time to revel in their accomplishments. They have strong value systems, and need to live their lives in accordance with what they feel is right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of their personalities, INFJs are in some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, they have very high expectations of themselves, and frequently of their families. They don't believe in compromising their ideals.

INFJ is a natural nurturer; patient, devoted and protective. They make loving parents and usually have strong bonds with their offspring. They have high expectations of their children, and push them to be the best that they can be. This can sometimes manifest itself in the INFJ being hard-nosed and stubborn. But generally, children of an INFJ get devoted and sincere parental guidance, combined with deep caring.

In the workplace, the INFJ usually shows up in areas where they can be creative and somewhat independent. They have a natural affinity for art, and many excel in the sciences, where they make use of their intuition. INFJs can also be found in service-oriented professions. They are not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks. The INFJ will either avoid such things, or else go to the other extreme and become enveloped in the details to the extent that they can no longer see the big picture. An INFJ who has gone the route of becoming meticulous about details may be highly critical of other individuals who are not.

The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types are not. Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ, but they are capable of great depth of feeling and personal achievement.

Thank God for Emery

2005-10-15T19:06:00.000-04:00

This band happens to make me quite happy. Almost as happy as the fantastic deal I got on my new Playstation 2. Its one of those tiny micro-machine versions. Came with controller and memory card and a used copy of Kingdom Hearts. I got it for cheap. Just the way I like it.

The real reason I went out and voilated all of my game purchasing rules (Getting a current generation console so close to the new console releases, and violating my nintendo standards,) is because of a new title called, "Shadow of the Colossus." It is by the creators of Ico. I have never played it, but I have had a close friend tell me the entire story and style from beginning to end. It got me hooked and I knew that I needed to own this new fantastic game. I wish I had time to describe it in this post, but I just wanted to get it out there that this is what I'm looking forward to on tuesday, Although I'll probably work all day again and have to wait till wednesday. Matt, look this one up. The trailers are available on ign and I think you might fucking lose your mind like I did. Later all.

I've followed him this far

2005-10-12T12:17:00.000-04:00

I've had a best friend for a long time. He's really cool. When I first started hanging out with him I wanted to be like him. I still do, in many ways. In many ways I have become more like him. We've been through many rough times and we have laughed a million laughs.

Life is becoming tedious for the both of us. He works almost as much as I do, and as I have devoted myself to a woman, so I don't get to see him as much. It feels like never.

I know that although I am having a very dificult time staying happy, working so much, and being away from Elizabeth, he is having much greater difficulty. I think about him frequently. I think of him multiple times a day. "Boy he would like this movie." "I wonder if he'd like to go for a drive and just shout out the window as loud as we can."

I thought I could be there for him to talk to. I have done everything I can to be there. I want to do more. Maybe its just that when I catch him, he's never in the mood to talk. But I get this feeling that he doesn't trust me. Maybe he is embarrassed about what he's thinking. Maybe he knows that I'll judge him. I hope not. I wouldn't.

Its killing me that he won't speak. Its killing me that he's holding back how he feels. I never did that because I always felt like I could be myself around him. I don't know what to do, but its the biggest problem in my life right now. I'm not blaming him. I'm not angry or upset. I just don't know what to do next. How can I help him?

Here's hoping he reads this and figures out I care about him. Here's hoping he'll come back. Here's hoping he knows I'll never tell him what to do again, because I don't fucking know anymore. But at least it'll be the two of us again.

Musings of a sexless rockstar

2005-10-10T20:51:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I feel like the music can't be loud enough. Then I realize its just because I've lost the ability to sing softly. Oh yeah, my life recently.

I have returned from Ohio unscathed and acceptably ready for the world. I can't help shaking the feeling that my world is still moving too fast. I know this is driven by the excessive amount of work I have been doing. Not classwork, but work. I'm sure no-one reading this puts in as many hours as I do. If you could please believe me. Please. Please? Who am I kidding. I am stronger. I look forward to the season ending, but it seems like each week I work, Lyle tells me that this will be the last "Big push." That means 40 hours in three days. That means my back will be sore. I would say sore again, but its not yet recovered from last time. My time spent in Ohio was completely consumed by my Mother's need for emotional support. I'm sure everyone can identify with having to be there for their parents, but it was exceptionally hard for me, as I worked extra hard this week to get four days off, which I then donated to the family. I saw the sun rise and set four times without once doing something I wanted. Without making a decision for myself. Without having any fun. Without smiling and truly feeling happy. The problem is that it can't stop there.

I won't let that negative energy transfer to the others closest around me, which is exactly what I desperately want to do. I want to cry on her shoulder. I want to complain about my weekend. I do, a little (complain, that is,) but I cut it short. I sell it cheap. I settle, and that heat goes back on the stack. What actions do my hands take that might create something that spins alone, shedding beauty through centripetal throws, cascading my art down the eager throats of an audience, captive, yet sailing this ship with me through the rugged seas of life. Can I give rest to those other strugglers on my vessel? Is this any kind of rejuvenation? or are they still working as they skim the lines of this blog and that blog, hoping to catch a piece of leverage so that the human drama can be perpetuated: everybody pays attention to the messenger. Inversely are the trying to help me? Are their altruistic quests the only thing that bring them self satisfaction?

Either way I can't blame them. Sock it to em, Einstein! "Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are even incapable of forming such opinions."

Sometimes that bottled up energy is crushing, and can cause an eventual implosion. Before that, it seeps through torn seams and pin-holes. Thats why Elizabeth had every right to be upset with me. Long story short: As smart as I sound, and as smart as anyone says I am or my hair looks, I am often imbecilic. Its in my nature.

Bleach is awesome and I've been watching it since before the beginning of the summer. I don't know how that ever could have happened. Nothing else has been that stable. Japan TV has aired a half hour episode every thursday, and Lunar has subbed it religiously. The last two episodes, 52 & 53, are due these next two weeks. They'll both be full hour-long specials, so we're (I'm,) in for a treat. But what will happen after its all over? I haven't kept anything the same since the show started. In fact, I've changed more in those eight months or so than I ever have before. Life is funny that way, and truly, I have a foreboding sensation of dread. I'm always sad when something ends. I can only trust I won't feel the way I did when Bebop ended. Surely nothing will ever be the same for me since that fateful day in Nils Klykkens basement. Okay, okay. You got me. I set myself up for that one. But come on, now. We really just watched episode 26. Thats all that happened. Believe me, that was enough. Seriously, though: Shout out to the bebop lovers, and thanks to Nils for spreading the word of Bebop. Share the wealth.

The Days are Just Packed...

2005-10-03T10:44:00.000-04:00

The weeks are slipping by so fast that it seems like every time I get my butt over to Megatokyo, one of my old favorite webcomics, there are three new pages to read. If, and I mean if Fred has been keeping to his schedule, thats a whole week. Ladies and gentlemen, for me to go a whole week without spending any real time at my mac would be like Andy Dick making me and all my friends laugh. There is only one major tragedy behind this choice, though. Warcraft. My good friend John Holden, even made a character on my server and leveled it until he was caught up with me (which isn't too much work,) just so we could play together. Thats not mentioning the fact that Greg is already lvl 60 and an active member of our guild, whcih rocks. Hehe, "Active Member." I wish I had-oh alright, I'll stfu.

I worked Sunday, the first time since, Wednesday. It was a little rough. The real rough news came when I reminded my bosses that I was leaving thursday for a visit to Ohio with my parents. (I have a few cousins and a Grandmother down there.) Working out the schedule with them was no fun. Turns out that I will work today, immediately after school, Tomorrow all day, and wednesday after school again. Not really all that bad, but as I drove home from work on sunday, caked in dried rubber, sand, and tiny bits of broken glass... As I rode that Northbound I-75 in a Ford 85 Flatbed, I called my sweetheart. I told her that I'd be working such and such hours. She told me that she'd be working every other hour of the day and that was that. We're now faced with the depressing fact that it may be a full nine days before we see each other again. I tried to tell her what she always tells me when we're about to be apart for a while.

I usually say something to the affect of "I won't make it. I'll die without you," or something melodramatic and such, and she ccombats it with the same persistent, patient tone of "You'll be fine." It doesn't work when I say it for some reason. Probably because I'm not masculine enough. Maybe because there's nothing to stop a good woman from worrying. Most certainly because I secretly hope she misses me like crazy.

After watching the Dane Cook portion of the Las Vegas show that was on last night, and being sadly disappointed that half of it was repeat stuff from his new album, I went downstairs for a bowl of lucky charms and to watch the new West Wing that I had my folks TiVo for me. I couldn't move a muscle once I was in the kitchen. I had to lay down. I had to have the weight off my shoulders. I stared at my reflection in the kitchen overhead light. I held back tears. I thought How pitiful am I, the man that constantly brags about impossible labor and absurd hours, that I might cry over a week alone, no! A week with my family. I am stronger than that. But still they came. Still I clenched my fists, and still I layed on the hard yellow linoleum in my kitchen. West Wing and Lucky Charms are the only medicine I have right now.

When we love, we inherently cause pain. That is the way of the world.

Forgot to mention the version of the site for newsreaders

Saturday Night!

2005-10-02T01:44:00.000-04:00

The links on my Safari bookmarks bar are now on the side of the site. Now you can look at most of the same pretty pictures that I look at every day, when I sit down at my computer. The Coms are all web comics I read and are in reverse order of favor from top to bottom. Well I work tomorrow so maybe I'll do a little sleeping. Till soon.

No One Knows I'm Back (Yet)

2005-10-01T00:31:00.000-04:00

Xanga is going outta style faster than bread & butter. So of course I'm updating here because there's no one to complain when I don't post. The truth, however is that I've missed my blog. Probably because I'm shamelessly self-involved and I spend hours in front of the mirror making my hair elegantly disheveled, but also perhaps because I feel the need to create something worthy. Also, my typing could use a freshening up.

I'm working three jobs and am back at delta. First job is an asphalt sealing operation with an old friends father's business. The liquid sealer season is over so fer now, I'm pushing rubber. Hello aching back, goodbye free time. Hello also high wages. Second job is H&R block. Essentially I'm a package boy, a numbers runner if you will. Third job is home improvement with another self-employed chap who works on the sealer crew occasionally. Hopefully I'll have it tuned down to just one job and I can finally get back to school, recording, and World of Warcraft.

I spend most of my free time right now playing Resident Evil 4 because I love the weapons. The rest I spend trying to cheer up Tim. This effort seems to be going to waste however. Actually I spend almost all of my free time with Elizabeth. Bad news for all you ladies out there that had your eye on me, and the men too (as society began to wonder which side of the fence I stood upon.) Yes the cats outta the bag now, I assume. Its not? Oh, well. I'm in love with a beautiful young lass so entitled Elizabeth. If I attempted to describe her, I'd probably just sputter and drool as I usually do when I see her. And so I will cop out and say that she is the most important person in my life. I can't go fifteen minutes without thinking of her. So here are the lyrics to a rocking new band I just discovered. The ones that remind me of her. (Except the second one, cause those are just kick-ass.) Here's 'Say Anything':

"Alive With The Glory Of Love"

When I watch you, I wanna do you right where you're standing (yeah)

Right on the foyer, on this dark day, right in plain view (oh yeah)

Of the whole ghetto. The boots stomp meadows, but we ignore that (yeah)

You're lovely, baby. This war is crazy. I won't let you down (Oh no no)

No, I won't let them take you, won't let them take you

Hell no no, oh no, I won't let them take you, won't let them take you

Hell no no.

Should they catch us and dispatch us to those separate work camps,

I'll dream about you. I will not doubt you with the passing of time (oh yeah)

Should they kill me, your love will fill as warm as the bullets (yeah)

I'll know my purpose. This war was worth this. I won't let you down.

No, I won't

(Alive! Alive!

Alive with love, alive with love tonight)

No, I won't let them take you, won't let them take you

Hell no, no

No, no

"Admit It"

Admit it!

Despite your pseudo-bohemian appearance

And vaguely leftist doctrine of beliefs

You know nothing about art or sex

That you couldnít read in any trendy New York underground fashion magazine

Prototypical non-conformist

You are a vacuous soldier of the thrift store Gestapo

You adhere to a set of standards and tastes

That appear to be determined by an unseen panel of hipster judges (bullshit)

Giving a thumbs up or thumbs down to incoming and outgoing trends and styles of music and art

Go analog baby, youíre so post-modern

Youíre diving face forward into a antiquated path

Itís disgusting, its offensive, donít stick your nose up at me

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

You spend your time sitting in circles with your friends

Pontificating to each other

Forever competing for that one moment of self-aggrandizing glory

In which you hog the intellectual spotlight

Holding dominion over the entire shallow pointless conversation

Oh, weíre not worthy

When you walk by a group of quote-unquote normal people

You chuckle to yourself patting yourself on the back as you scoff

It's the same superiority complex

Shared by the high school jocks who made your life a living hell

And makes you a slave to the competitive capitalist dogma

You spend every moment of your waking life bitching about

Yeah, what do you have to say for yourself

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

And I say yeah, what do you have to say for yourself

Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah

Cause Iím proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner Iíve become

Youíre free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my guitar

Proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner Iíve become

Youíre free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my guitar, yeah

Well let me tell you this, I am shamelessly self-involved

I spend hours in front of the mirror, making my hair elegantly disheveled

I worry about how this album will sell

Because I believe it will determine the amount of sex I will have in the future

I self medicate with drugs and alcohol to treat my extreme social anxiety

Cause Iím proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner Iíve become

Youíre free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my guitar

Proud of my life and the things that I have done

Proud of myself and the loner Iíve become

Youíre free to whine, it will not get you far

I do just fine, my car and my guitar, yeah

The Future - A dream

2005-03-10T14:44:00.000-05:00

I had this dream. It was good.

I opened my eyes to see what that loud crunching sound was. She had just thrown another log on the wide fireplace. She sat on the brick step that was raised by the hearth, facing me on the couch with her back to the now roaring fire. She looked right at me as she took off her scarf and gloves; she had no coat. She pressed her lips together firmly and stared on at me before she spoke.

"Did I wake you?" A ballad of sound drifted through my brain. I thought i must be intoxicated by her tranquil and reconciled voice. Then I remembered that I simply was drunk. The whiskey glass was still in my hand and the bottle on the table. I probably shouldn't answer that. It wont do any good. Say something interesting you dolt! I thought as I cursed myself. It seemed like forever before I finally asked her a simple question.

"Is it cold outside? More importantly, are you cold?" She seemed like she was about to start shivering but she stood up steadily and stole the blanket from my legs, which were crossed and outstretched on the deep and soft carpet in front of the fire. In doing so, she also removed one sock and it was lost somewhere in the folds of the earth-toned afghan. In only the firelight, it looked warm and cozy. She wrapped up in it and hit the couch.

"I'm fine now," she said, as she poured a shot or three for herself. She now sat Indian-style and I was surprised to imagine that it might be comfortable. I remember that I never liked sitting that way, but everything she did seemed more comfortable than one might presume. "Listen to me." Good God, her voice was like a drug. How could I not listen to her? "All of your pain can be over now. You don't have to worry about being hunted anymore. Not now that she's dead." Listening intently to her I began to rub my chest unconsciously. I had been shot six times. In one night. "Stella is gone. You can face your future. In fact, here's to the future! " She raised her glass.

"If its to the future then I'll drink it myself." I cleanly swiped the glass and emptied it into my throat in one swift motion. A silence settled over us, and the fire too, after I slammed down the glass. Thinking of all that had happened, of how I was still scared even though I knew there was nothing to fear, I fell into her eye's.

"I'm sorry, Eileen," but I wasn't talking about the drink.

She responded as if i had said something else entirely. "You're welcome." And I fell back asleep with my head resting on the back of the couch, and the tips of the licking flame just at the bottom of my half-closed eyes.

Dugout

2005-03-09T17:51:00.000-05:00

Based on Lucy, by Ketch Sterling.

Just outside the main drag, where the city begins to be dominated by the so-called country roads-55 Speed Limit-There's a few places the boys knew well enough to call it theirs. In order of proximity to the strip malls and such, there was the fairgrounds, the airport (though you could hardly tell, save the searchlight panning the skies; blue then white,) and the baseball diamonds. It was here that the boys would often conduct their most important business. The very tops of the fence were mostly capped with yellow plastic tubing with a slit cut along it lengthwise to slip it over. Dave pondered the necessity of the tubing as he stood from his small import vehicle. Dave's height was in stark contrast to that of his vehicle's. Jim, not quite a head shorter, shut the passenger side door upon getting out as well, and shook his head at Dave.

"Shit, I thought it'd never warm up." Jim had a point. It had been a long, cold winter and the boys' visits with each other had been sparse and uneventful, for them. If the average person were to inquire further about the visits each friend had sequentially paid the other, he or she would think it ludicrous, let alone eventful. Each had narrowly escaped death at least once and all of them had been to terrible places and seen terrible things. Keeping company was the only thing that kept them from death. Each one of them had been to the brink that winter. Each wondered what life was, and why should they go on? Or how? Maybe it was some kind of rivalry or competition. The 'We're here so lets see who can do the best job of existing' mentality. They were all to unsure of the afterlife to be the best at dying, and who wants to win without a victory dance? But that was in the past. The danger was gone now, and Dave cheered up with the thought of spring and of the other car turning into the dirt drive.
"I'm with you. The grass is finally up. Thats why I called a meeting out here." Then dave added, "That and the stars." The sun had recently set. The western sky seemed like it couldn't decide between purple and orange. The tall, rusty import s.u.v pulled into the adjacent parking slot, or rather, it pulled up to the next long brick of shattered concrete laying in fragments in the fresh grass. Both vehicles were parked along side of a small structure with a slightly angled roof. Fifteen yards or so wide and only five deep the structure defied its own title. It stood parallel to the base line and the roof was only five and a half feet on the back side, the long side. It looked as if it had just been set there after being built and there had obviously been no digging involved with its installation.

"Ah, the dugout," Charlie, getting out of the passenger side, stretched his arms and his voice went up as he knuckled the small of his back. "Its been too long, men. Far too long for us. Hurry up man!" Taking off his sunglasses, Charlie looked to see what his driver had been up to. The driver was fumbling for something under his seat. When it seemed like he had found it he closed the door and was facing away from the other three. Charlie gave a short nod to Dave and Jim.

Dave figured that their friend must be putting his smokes into a jacket pocket so just as the driver began to swivel around, Dave yelled to him. "Hey, Ketch!" As if afraid he would be smitten with the force of God, Ketch threw up his arms and quickly buried his face in his elbow. "Woah! Calm down man. And get over here already. We've waited long enough." And as Ketch approached the rest of the boys, muttering a curse under his breath about someone taking his money, Dave noticed a slight lump on Ketch's forehead. "Why, mister Sterling! What happened here. It seems you've angered the cosmic boogeyman."

"Yeah. I did. So an old lady beaned me with a tennis ball. I think I have been reposed."
Jim started laughing out loud. "Yeah, man. Charles told us about Lucy. What a trip. But we've got more important matters at hand. Lets go already." They all grunted in agreement and walked toward the fence which they quickly scaled to hop up the side of the dugout. Dave was last up, and he had decided for some reason or another, to pull out a Camel before he had even gotten to his feet. When he went to stand, he looked up at the outstretched hand of Ketch, holding a red Bic already lit.

"Much obliged, sir." Was all he could muster around the filter of his turkish Izmar. He stood and joined the others at the higher edge of the roof. They stood for a while in silence as they all enjoyed the fresh air and the not so fresh air. Another few moments passed and the four of them started exchanging looks. Despite the warming weather they had all donned their black overcoats and blue jeans. Jim even had on his fingerless gloves. They each let their free hand wander into their jackets to simultaneously produce a small clear glass container with no markings of any kind. Shot glasses.

Putting his cigarette in his mouth, Dave produced also from his jacket, a large frosted bottle that read 'VODKA LEMON' in a generic typeface on the front. "Gentlemen? I now call to order the first official meeting of The Grasshopper Club." He poured the drinks. He passed his eyes across the faces of each of his friends. They all had a sombre look of finality, like they had been waiting for something for a long time and it was almost here. Like they realized that they were losing something all of a sudden, and out of panic they were grasping desperately to what they didn't really want at all. As if to make up their minds for them, he offered the toast. "Happy Halloween." They echoed him in turn, and at the same time, they each looked to the first stars appearing in the dusky sky and gulped hard. A long silence passed as they finished their smokes. Dave pondered about the stars. He thought about the shingles on the roof. He looked out over the diamonds and studied the searchlight at the airport for a time. Blue... white. Ketch was the first to break the silence.

"Wait, what? What does that mean? Its freaking april."

Charlie interjected to proclaim, "I think its bad ass."

"Me too," Jim uttered contemplatively.

"Well thats fine I guess. Whatever fleets your switch."

Dave turned to quell Ketch's frustration. Or something. He wasn't quite sure. "I learned it from my parents when I was really little. I'm not sure what it means anymore, but it does fit us quite well doesn't it?" Only he did know. He thought if he left it unsaid, it would keep them safe from the dangers that faced them down the road. They were all putting in for the long haul. The darkness was spreading too quickly for them to stand alone. "What peril faces us in this dying light? What evil eyes pin us down? Are we awake yet? Is it real?"

Jim spoke. "We'll make it real."

Charles said, "We are the champions of the sunrise."

and Ketch. "Only our pack can outrun those bastards. Our family."

It would be years later that Ketch would learn that Dave's parents used to greet each other with a Happy Halloween. Dave's dad had told him what it really meant. "It means 'This family will always be together. Our strength is pooled. Something like that, you see. We always had codes of that sort. I even remember the best one; The Grasshopper Club.

A Fly on the Small

2005-03-05T23:21:00.000-05:00

Perhaps something cooler will happen if I try again. Z3r0 is more powerful than Sleeper. And so Sleeper will snore through the most profound part of the world. Z3r0 will be conducting. That's my part in it all. Good luck and forever.

Z3r0