What was I thinking?

Squalor Victoria

2011-05-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Raise our heavenly glasses to the heavens
Squalor Victoria
Squalor Victoria
I'm going down among the saints

-the national "squalor victoria"

Often in the quiet of evening I realize that today is over. Two fans buzz. The first sits at 11 o'clock, perched in the window sill between myself and a jump into a boxwood bush. The other sits behind me at 5, facing my bedroom's exit. Their respective breezes intersect about ten feet from the door. Sometimes I stand rooted to that spot before bed, convincing the neck below my head to ache no more, cajoling, appealing to my shoulders to flush the feeling of burden. It works.

I bend to touch the floor beneath my toes, palms facing the ground. Forward folding encloses the days demons like goats in lush pasture. Temporarily sated, they agree to stay away until day comes again.

When the day comes, I put on my beloved white shirt. I'm a professional.

Thrasheville

2011-05-17T14:34:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in Asheville, I remember West Asheville's desperate days and the reign of Mayor Russ Martin, whose current dwelling is made of hemp. Yes, that hemp. The Tourists had pinstriped uniforms and the number of hipsters in town could be counted on a horse's hoof. The parents of the local food movement weren't even acquainted let alone thinking of giving birth to a massive industry. Asheville was very plain Jane.

In 2011, things are different, and make no mistake, they're better. Downtown bustles--mostly tourists, yes, but still, they're human beings too--even on Mondays if the weather is fair. Local proprietors emigrated from far flung locales such as New Jersey, California, Florida, and Persia provide the backbone for our economy with their restaurants, shops, and entertainment businesses. In one day, a visitor to the area or an unemployed loser (all the citizens are working, of course) can spend sunrise at the Biltmore Estate, zip through the canopy north of town at Navitat, and thrice dine at fine restaurants including Table, Tupelo Honey, and Early Girl Eatery. In five hours, a person can travel by car from Asheville to the coast.

Outside Asheville, the WNC mountains are home to honest, hardworking, friendly people. All the kids are above average and nary a teenager gets pregnant. Religion dictates a way of life for the hundreds of thousands from Murphy to Marion. When will they realize that they already live in heaven? On earth.

What is the What?

2011-05-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

I've been helping coach a high school soccer team for almost two years now, and each season comes and goes with the same pattern: expectation, performance and evaluation, and ultimate failure. By failure I only mean that we don't win the state championship. So how do we remember the seasons? We cling to the good and discard the lackluster. We savor the big wins and suppress the losses. In the end, we confront inadequacy by initially accepting it and subsequently squashing it.

Inadequacy reveals us to ourselves. Whereas before we considered ourselves privileged, superior or inevitably triumphal, after the fall we know at once the places we went wrong. What then do we do? We pick ourselves up from the scrap heap, we lay on a new coat of paint or purchase a new outfit, and we try again. After identifying symptoms and results, we address root causes.

The full human strives beyond measure to improve current circumstances. What are circumstances? By that I mean conditions within our control. Weather subjects itself to whims of barometric pressure, and the being within the storm revels in the resultant tides whether they pull away or toward the safe harbor.

Old Flame Flicker

2011-05-15T01:02:00.001-07:00

the roman forum

More than ever before, humans are connected to one another. We communicate at rates exponentially higher than those who came only a century before us. We speak through body language, verbal intercourse, and actions. We chat, text, tweet, and browse. We meet some friends at a young age, and new friends are available constantly.

In the course of ten years, many of us go through various relationships. We make and lose friends either by chance or intention, we meet and take lovers by necessity or invention. And sometimes an open loop closes itself. What do we do when and old flame flickers?

We go for the tryst. We act like we’ve moved on. We fall into familiar patterns of social interplay and conversation. We giggle. Most importantly, we hold on to what we can. Any semblance of mutual attraction or rapport that can be maintained is done. We keep our cards close to our chest, but we play our best hand. And in the end, the love we take is inversely related to the love we make.

Flame flicker

2011-05-15T00:39:00.000-07:00

Flame flicker
for another fort
night moon shine
make another mouth
happy.

Lexington Avenue Brewery

2011-05-11T02:26:00.000-07:00

Ever been to the LAB? Have you walked into a bar so beautiful from her exterior that her swilly brew hides successfully behind the pretty, pallid faces and their no good graces? Hundreds of "Beer City USA" revelers flotch their bedgraggled asses on stools and invert glass vessels in an attempt to achieve clarity. They usually don't. Have you ever talked with a "fascinating" person at a bar who dressed like they sold their soul to the homeless hooker further down Lexington before they "caught a show"? Has a person propositioned you while you sit on a windowsill? Let's pretend it's a really big windowsill and you can sit your gluts on it and rest the flats of your feet on the not quite level concrete sidewalk below. Been there? You've been to the LAB.

2011-05-10T23:46:00.000-07:00

This morning, I listened to 24 voice mails on my cellular phone. Twenty four. How many did I listen to fully? Three. The others I deleted after one to ten seconds on account of obvious inquiry lines or mundane narratives. Some people might call that level of social apathy "sad" or "disappointing." Me too. But who cares, right? Here's some more fun facts about the twenty minutes I spent wishing I used a hands free phone.

Calls from my father: 5. he's learning.
Calls from my mother: 1. she acquired a smartphone with texting capability recently.
Calls from unrelated friends and acquaintances: 17. the other two came from foes.
Calls from friends of my parents who are single and want a young, strapping man to do something for them on the cheap (aka i lose money when I spend 20 bucks on gas and they pay me with "a six pack") when i'm just as broke and busy as they are: 5. not fucking kidding you, it might have actually been 6. yeah it was six. but i don't blame them. i blame their worthless ex-husbands.
Calls from people I love: 15. I think that's a pretty good ratio. Out of 24 messages, I have said "I love you" to the people who left 15 of them.
Calls from new friends: 2. One was absolutely hysterical. It was by turns verbose, rowdy, and downright aggressive. It started out as a dinner party invite, and ended with humorous solicitation. For example, "by the way I did want to talk to you about acquiring that weed you had that one time." Who am I, your local dispensary? I don't have weed.
Calls from that girl? One. She could not be more perfectly disconnected.

in the beginning

2011-05-10T23:32:00.001-07:00

in the beginning, god created the heavens and the dearth. and it was good. the beer was better, but the dearth of quality goods was more readily apparent. he cared more for exotic species--see the story of noah's ark for details--than for the well being of his own (god created man in his own image, duh). but i digress...

this is the start of an unprecedented blog, one in which the writer, who shall remain entirely mysterious and less than revealed, will write about that which he chooses. this choice will be available to her/him at regular intervals, and he may choose to capitalize on these impulses. he may not.

politics, human nature, sport (not sports, what are you, amerikan?), love, hate, jest, conjecture, play, colour, bohemia, fascism, Derek Rose, we've got it all. this will be the place to come for provocative verbal intercourse.