weird twistings

Laugh though you might, it is 4:26am and I cannot sleep. The worm has pushed out of my body and made its way to my ear. And it's hungry for my thoughts.

Have you ever felt the droll Sunday hours wash over you in a wet hug? That utterly dreadful feeling Sunday gives can sometimes catch up to me, as it has done on this hour. I have come to you to express the most odd thing that has happened to me in a long time.

Emily and I ate seared tuna over salad and watched National Treasure:Book of Secrets. Afterwards, she turned to bed. I stayed up to play a video game. After defeating the awful opponents, I grabbed my reading assignment for HIS 131, "Narrative of Fredrick Douglass" and went to bed.

I read chilling tales of slavery. Wretched stories of intentional soul darkening. Lusty passages of horrid "masters" raping young African women and selling their shame to the next town to keep their white sons from having to whip their own brothers.

Usually after only a couple pages I am out, but tonight I got in a few chapters before the weight hit my eyes. I should've known. There would be no sleep. I arrived at the first stage, where sounds are flattened and the subconcious rises to the surface. But he must have ran out of breath, because the story took over, and all I could do is think. Loudly. I thought in the tongue of someone from the 19th century. I couldn't stop phrases like, "as the fields were sown, so were the days drawn with little mention of the hard times that were past now so painful and wretched of birth"
All to the melody of Animal Collective's "Bluish".

And now for the weird part. I couldn't stop moving. Not in the toss and turn fashion of sleeplessness. I. Couldn't. Stop. Moving. Like Michael J. Fox in a clothes dryer. As soon as I tried to stop, a MASSIVELY UNCOMFORTABLE FEELING arose. And Animal Collective would get louder, and so would the 19th century prose.

This isn't right for a healthy young man, so I did what I never do and got up. I went to the kitchen and poured a healthy slam of tequila in a glass, and immediately rushed over to tell you what was going on.

Cause we don't talk anymore. Life is going on without you and me. And I kind of miss our little one on one thing that we used to do. I'm not putting myself in the road anymore, and all the breaking of the back is in the past now, I'm a scholar, so I thought I didn't need you.

Maybe I still do.

I've found it.

An exerpt from a letter written to Brian Pauley:

"I was fucked by a company that was drunk off the profits of residential development. This drunk was one that you know. You and I have experienced this haze. You know what it is, it's that Saturday afternoon in the Spring. The one where we meet up at 3pm. It's innocent. A couple of beers. The breeze begins to blow, and there is a general feeling of contentment. More of this could never be a bad thing, right? A bottle's seal is broken. Ice is obtained. The pours become richer, and actions become more valiant. It's now 6pm, and clouds rush the sky. The wind pushes your hair out of your arms, and you know that this can't be the end. There is more out there. So, we walk. No, we run. We run through backyards and alleys in nylon sandals, holding jugs of bourbon. Invincible. We reach a destination that is teeming with more of the same. Wretched. Filthy. Glorious. This is 10pm. It pours out of the bottle, now. No more glass, no more ice. These are impedements. It must be NOW! And this is where it begins. The blindness. You search out for the meaning when it first arrives, but like an evil slut, teasing you with what she knows you want, the crave begins. More. The haze has come, your eyes are filled with blood, the wailing for mercy has turned to screams of MORE!

You awake on a grassy bed of piss. It is now 5am. There will be no more glory today. You must now let go of them. You must lay off your employees, with severance. Because you were blind."

I have been laid off by morons. Now begins Street Life.

the pale

SHORT TERM FORECASTNATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE WILMINGTON NC859 AM EST TUE NOV 4 2008NCZ087-096-099-100-SCZ017-023-024-032>034-041600-ROBESON-BLADEN-COLUMBUS-BRUNSWICK-MARLBORO-DARLINGTON-DILLON-FLORENCE-MARION-HORRY-INCLUDING THE CITIES OF...LUMBERTON...ELIZABETHTOWN...WHITEVILLE...LELAND...SHALLOTTE...BENNETTSVILLE...DARLINGTON...DILLON...FLORENCE...MARION...CONWAY...MYRTLE BEACH859 AM EST TUE NOV 4 2008.NOW...PATCHES OF DRIZZLE WILL CONTINUE THROUGH 11 AM...MAINLY FROM TABORCITY...NORTHWEST TO BENNETTSVILLE. A COUPLE HUNDREDTHS OF AN INCHOF ADDITIONAL RAINFALL IS POSSIBLE.
-http://forecast.weather.gov/wwamap/wwatxtget.php?cwa=rah&wwa=short%20term%20forecast

It's raining like the rain that makes farmers cry out loud, and hold their families close to them to pray. These people are out there. Voting today, waiting out the queue in an elegant, natural, stately rain. Nature is trying to dissuade the meek vote. Wash out the ineffectual mass, the "i can't wait too long" vote, the "crap, my shoes" vote.

I went friday, at 2:20pm. The line was a thousand feet long. My colleague, (who is currently in Corolla, riding out the exit polls with beer and 25 knot winds from the east), was there with me in the intent to vote. Him leaving the next day meant that now was the time. As soon as we settled in line, an older gentleman leaving the ballot room passed by us, saying smugly, "An hour and twenty minutes."

Now, let me remind you, my colleague and I are no fools. And I saw through this fiend's ruse soon enough. The pace of the line was just too swift for a time of 1hr20'. This led me to believe that he saw a young and handsome idealist with a need to cast a direct vote, and taken me for a slacker, with hardly the impetus to stand in solidarity at the local mall with my neighbors, and make a choice in our society. Any feelings of drudgery and loathing were now met with hard determination and uncrippling devotion to what I was there to do. Thank you, fat old white guy. Thank you for wasting your pitiful idea on someone who gives a damn.

And yeah, it took about an hour. A shade under an hour. I was soon reminded that my animosity towards the guy might have been misdirected. But still. C'mon. I haven't had shit to write about in awhile. Gimme a damn break.



Sat. Nov. 29th. Battle Rockets w/ The White Cascade. 7pm. Bring us extra gloves.

the excuses

I got my 401-k statement the other day, and was relieved, because I haven't seen one in a few months. The issue was dire. It stunk. I....didn't really care. I knew when I put it there that it is just a sweet kiss goodnight, and good luck when you see it again. We aren't suckers, I can tell you that.

But who is the sucker? That damn guy on Main St. they keep talking about? I think that's hilarious. The persona that candidates give the average citizen is so dead. We aren't that nation anymore. We have become so isolated from each other that homogeny is impossible. We see ourselves through the inner person we gain from media. Somebody told Corbin the other day that he looked like Dwight Schrute. Do you know what that can do to a person?

Anyway, it seems that we are going to be playing some shows soon. I am pretty excited, this is going to be a good group. We have put in some time, and it has been productive. When I find out, you will too. 'Till then, wonder about it.

failing riser

Don't expect any thing out of me. I'm not to be....expected. Yeah, I went to the show. All I will say is that it was good, and I'm going to move forward with nothing more said.

I went in the woods today. It's been months. I was actually excited about it. Old friends that I haven't seen in awhile. Trying to get enough work done. Helping out.
Actually, I'm going to get to see this job through to the end. Hopefully. Today, I enjoyed my job. For once in many, many months.

Now don't misinterpret,
I don't intend to whine AND judge.
That would be so unfair.
So if I am to be expected to,
remove me from the egress refuse,
and hold me bare.

000FZNT24 KNHC 062122OFFNT4OFFSHORE WATERS FORECAST FOR THE GULF OF MEXICONWS TPC/NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER MIAMI FL430 PM CDT MON OCT 06 2008OFFSHORE WATERS FORECAST FOR THE GULF OF MEXICOSEAS GIVEN AS SIGNIFICANT WAVE HEIGHT...WHICH IS THE AVERAGE HEIGHT OF THE HIGHEST 1/3 OF THE WAVES. INDIVIDUAL WAVES MAYBE MORE THAN TWICE THE SIGNIFICANT WAVE HEIGHT.GMZ089-070330-SYNOPSIS FOR THE GULF OF MEXICO 430 PM CDT MON OCT 06 2008.SYNOPSIS...TROPICAL STORM MARCO IN BAY OF CAMPECHE AT 19.5N 94.7W AT 4 PM CDT MOVE W-NW AT 8 KT TO 20.0N 95.6W TONIGHT... 20.5N 97.0W TUE AND INLAND 21.0N 98.5W TUE NIGHT. COLD FRONT MOVE INTO N WATERS LATE TUE REACHING FROM FL PANHANDLE TO BAY OF CAMPECHE LATE WED THEN STALL AND WEAKEN OVER SE WATERS THU.
-http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/text/MIAOFFNT4.shtml

dream a little dream

Today is wretched and tiring. Tomorrow is the same. Only now is peaceful. Now is serene and comforting. Try to find the bliss of now.

Well, I made it. From the way I left things last week, I'd either be run over or out of breath by now. Truthfully, Monday just takes it all out of me. I can't win on Monday. So, I try to put Monday off. I'm doing it right now.

I am getting into this habit now, and it is fun to see myself do something seriously other than marriage, music, & work. Can't believe it's gone on this long. I thought that it would've been over in a couple of weeks, but I can see that I am starting to need you. So take that, but don't run with it. You'll fall, and it's sharp.

One of the things that I always look forward to is the coming of winter. Autumn is only that, nothing more. People will say that they love autumn, and I do too. But let's call it what it is. The anticipation season. Everything about autumn is so up front and obvious. Start putting on more clothes, it's cold. Start harvesting food, your plants are slowly dying. Start cleaning your gutters, there are leaves falling from the trees. If/then. Nothing held back, no punches softened. All the subtle niceties gone. You ARE freezing to death out here. But not me. I can wear my jackets, I can light a fire in the creek, and if it's cold enough, I can slaughter a hog. There is no better time.

Next week, I will tell you about In The Year Of The Pig, and their show this friday with Death Came Down The Mountain and The Curtains Of Night (CD release) at the Local 506.

Can't I?

This job is going to bury me. I can see it already. I've seen it. It happens during the day, right after lunch. Someone texting/driving. They run right through the cones at 45mph and BAM!

Like Emeril might say, after spicing something.

Yeah, I know. Jokes. Ha. It's funny, c'mon. Y'know it's funny. I'm just trying to make light of a back-breaking situation. I. Am. Safe.

I am, really. OSHA and all that. What is it, you might wanna know, that I do for a living? That would cause all this commotion first thing in?

It's up to you to figure it out. If you know me already, then you know.

Enough said of all that. I am settling into a posture that is more relaxing. I need to sit down and tell you what I wanna talk about. But I don't think I can bear it today. Sometime around 12 my will to do much other than breathe fell short.

And as such I leave you. Breathless.