Anniversary

As my life passes before me, without me being involved, I do try and jump in it occasionally. Sadly, many times I'm not very successful at it.

Case in point: Last week was my father's 25th wedding anniversary. They wanted to return to the hotel and restaurant they visited that night so many years ago. I was warned ahead of time that it was expensive. I'm currently struggling through a serious cash flow problem (it's flowing out, but not in), but I tell myself to enjoy myself this one night. It's not about me, it's about my parents. It's their night.

The usual confusion occurred. It's a simple question. One that should have been communicated from the first utterance of the get together: "What time?"

Me, I'm traveling 3 hours to have dinner with my family, whom I saw just LAST week. But, this is their night, it's not about me I repeat to my self.

Driving up the mighty Interstate 5, I start getting the phone calls, "What time were you told to be there? Who told you? And when did they tell you?" Not wanting to play the telephone game, I just called the source; my dad.

"Seven-thirty, I think. I was supposed to get a reservation for 7:45, but you know me... I forgot." He says. Looking at my watch, it's now 7:10. I'm not going to be on time. I let him know that I have to stop at my sisters and change clothes, and we'll be there as soon as possible. In case you haven't guessed, I was told eight o'clock, several times.

Turns out, he hasn't arrived at the hotel yet either. So, they still have to check in, get dressed, and get down to the restaurant. TURNS OUT that they're on the same freeway I am, about 3 miles in front of me. And my sister, my sister is about 2 miles in front of them! THAT, my friends my family communicating at its finest.

My sister, brother-in-law, and I arrive at the restaurant at just after eight o'clock (I'm secretly proud that I would have been all of 4 minutes late!). My other two sisters were already situated, albeit just before us. The guests of honor are the last to arrive.

And, I am so glad we had reservations, as we were the only patrons in the place. Yes, eight o'clock in downtown Portland on a Thursday night, and we were the only patrons.

I felt like a hillbilly, but I ordered a beer in this posh place. But, I look at it this way; there was no one there to see me do it! So, in the grand scheme of things, did it really happen?

Being the odd man out (No wife; no date) I'm stuck at the end of the table without a place setting. Now, I would like to add, that two of my female friends would have joined me, but it was a Thursday night. So this isn't designed to be a sad, woe is me, tale. Just a bad flip of the Girls Gone Wild calendar.

Looking at the menu I realize that I'm about to have my first fifty dollar steak. The only thing cheaper on the menu was a dinner salad, the soup* ("The soup's fuckin' ten dollars!"), or a caramelized chicken breast. If I'm going to drop the price of a tank of gas on a piece of meat, it's going to be a decent slab of broiled excellence. I pony up the extra two bucks and get the 11 oz. New York Steak. Could have had the 8 oz. Filet, but no... gimme that extra 3 oz. of artery choking goodness!

I love steak. I really do. But, I'm not a connoisseur. To me, this was the same steak I could get at Applebee's for fourteen bucks. We definitely weren't paying for the great service, nor for the wonderful ambiance. There was neither. What I paid for, was a tasty steak, mixing wine, beer, and champagne, and dinner with my family.

Twice I received the "Quote of the Night" award, but I'll be damned if I can remember what they were now. To me, they were throw away lines but had they been drinking milk, it would have come up through their noses.

The night ends with one sister worried that another has had too much to drink. To me, the fact that someone was worried about that is both endearing and annoying at the same time. It was a snide remark that didn't need to be said aloud. It doesn't matter, she wasn't driving. It was a celebration.

Even two days later, both my dad and his wife (I've never called her "mom") say how perfect their anniversary party was. It was exactly what they wanted to do, where they wanted to be, and who they wanted to be with. It makes my original crankiness about having to drive 3 hours to have dinner an embarrassment.

I still could have filled up the gas tank of my car for the price of that piece of meat. That still bothers me. But, just not as much anymore.

*= A well worn line from "The Blues Brothers".

Time In The Woods

He had always said he'd finish his book, when he found the time. It'd been 3 years now. There it sat, 126 pages of the 300 needed. He knew it was good, he just needed to sit down and do it!

First it was Jen; then Deb; then that scooba diving class. It all took up his free time and he was tired of it. Sure, Deb still comes around but they're not as close as they once were. And what a bust that scooba class was! He lives 1200 miles from the ocean! That wasn't what his dad would call 'Money well spent!'.

He was walking his talking trail. A trail out behind the park that nobody goes on, so he actually talks to himself. Has a conversation, his right brain talking with the left brain. But, it's not working this time. He has to be back at the house soon for that conference call. He sits down on a log,

"Why can't I just get in a 2 hour nap when I need one?" He asks aloud.

"Because you don't need one, yet." Says a voice from the brush.

He jumps up, startled and then a little afraid. A man with more lines in his face than a Los Angeles road map.

"Sorry son, didn't mean to scare ya none." the old wrinkly man said.

"That's okay. I've just never seen anyone back here before."

"Not many come back here. They're all too busy to appreciate what Mother Earth has put back here." Wrinkly man said, as that's what he had decided to call him.

"Yeah, I lose track of time when I come back this way. It's the one place I can get away from it all. But, I've got a meeting in about 20 minutes, so I best be headin' out." He said.

"Nah, you got time." Wrinkly man said.

"No, I've got a meeting at 5, and it's... 3??" he had just looked at his watch, and it was 4:40.

"See? You got the time, sit down a spell." Wrinkly man says, as he takes a seat on the log.

"Wow, my watch battery must be going out. I didn't leave the house until four... and it's..." He was beginning to lose his grasp of the time of day.

He played it all back in his mind; he got back from the gym at 3:30... took a dump... then headed out here.

"No use tryin' to understand it. It just is." Wrinkly man says.

"What just is?" He asks.

"Time. You just gained 2 hours of your life back. It happens back here a lot. To those that need it, anyhow."

"But to everyone else in the world... it's... the two hours is...." He tries to justify time in his head.

"You'll drive yourself plum bonkers if you try and make head nor tails of it. Just accept it, take that two hours or however long, and put it to good use. You said you needed a nap, didn't cha? Take a nap. Naps are good." the wrinkly man was making sense of a senseless concept.

"Yeah, maybe I should go lay down. It was nice chatting with ya." He says still trying to make some kind of sense of it all. Surely the old man was just pulling his leg.

"Well, we'll see ya back here tomorrow." The old wrinkly man says as he himself walks off into the brush.

"Tomorrow? What makes you think I'll be back tomorrow?" he asks curiously.

"I heard ya, you said you just need some more time. Out here is where time is. When you want time, this is where you'll come."

"How long have you known about this? Do you come out here to save some time?" He asks.

The old wrinkly man smiles, his face wrinkles up all over again. He has obviously smiled a lot in his lifetime.

"Yeah, I spend a good deal of time out here. I was just like you, needed more time in the day to get everything done in time. But, I learned the hard way that your time is what you make of it. I found a lot of extra time from being out here, a lot of extra time." his smile was becoming full of regret.

"It's what you DO with that time... trust me on this. It's best if you just rearrange things so you make your own time. Because coming out here for a little every day...." his voice trails off as he ventures out into the brush.

"What?? What happens by coming out here every day?" He yells back at the old man who reappears from behind a frond of grass.

"My friend.... I'm 33 years old. You wouldn't know it from lookin' at me, now would'ja? But, I got all the time in the world." With a somewhat mournful smirk, he disappears into the brush.

I'm mystified.

Just thought I'd throw that out there.

So, here's why... I'm mystified why the Del Amitri MySpace offers up the "whole final concert", when in fact, it's a REALLY poorly edited version of the final concert. How do I know? Because I've got a bootleg, with photos, that has the WHOLE concert. Why even bother with trying to trick the fans who know the truth? It mystifies me.

I'm mystified why peanut butter & Bananas taste SO good together!!! It mystifies me.

I'm mystified why the universe feels the need to parade these wonderful women in front of me, but not allow the needed interaction in order to start "something". It mystifies me.

I'm mystified why God... someone... something, gave me so much talent, but left me without the personality to attract the audience needed to create an income. I'm mystified.

I'm mystified why I forgot the rest of my list!!!! I'll come back to this post someday! LOL

The Pusher

It's amazing what a little 'push' can do. It caused Humpty Dumpty to fall off a wall... but why would all the kings horses try and put him back together again? Was he the only one who knew how to make the king's favorite omelette? I never quite understood that.

A little 'push' allows you to learn about physics from a piece of rubber attached to two chains hanging from a crossbeam.

A little 'push' can also alter the rest of your life. And, I never got that 'push'.

When I was 18 or so, I had ambitions. I had desires. I had an idea what I would love to be when I grew up. But, I didn't have a CLUE as to how to go about achieving them. Sure, I went to college but it didn't end up being exactly what I was looking for.

I was out on my own though. I was adrift without a paddle, and definitely without a map. And the thing is, I didn't know how to sail. No one taught me anything about sailing. Starboard? Don't have a clue.

I didn't have anyone who knew what I wanted and would say, "Look! There's what you're looking for... now go get it!" That's all I needed. But, there was no one there.

What could I have become? Where could I be now? It could've been bad. But it could've just as easily been good.

I have two trains I could've caught. Music, and comedy.

I had a couple of guitars by the time I went to college. But, no one encouraged me to play when I was at home. I didn't know anyone else who played, and I really didn't have the best guitars, but they were guitars! I have the type of personality that can handle playing to an audience of twelve for years. I understand about honing your craft. I also understand that making a career from music is mostly about luck. I know some of the most amazing musicians who've never really been heard!

So, I've always felt I could'a been a contenda... could have gone somewhere in music. Turns out I have a decent rock voice, and I definitely have the passion. But, now that I'm at a point where I have the understanding of the knowledge... I'm too frickin' old.

And, then there's comedy. For some reason, lately I've been reading and watching the Monty Python boys' early days. The days when they were in college writing for the annual school variety show. Then moving on to write gags for others on TV. Being asked to help write a radio show, then being asked to write a TV show, a movie... until they all found themselves on the same program.

As a teen and an early 20's dude, I didn't have anyone that could give me that gentle 'push' into writing. I did write, or attempt to write, funny stuff. But, I was mostly rewriting other funny things that I heard. And, my acting was totally bizarro horrible. I never did plays in school, and maybe I should have. I was asked by a teacher to audition, but couldn't see myself getting up there and doing it. I was too unsure of myself. I didn't have anyone in my corner saying "You can do it!"

I've never had anyone in my corner telling me I could do anything. Except to tell me that I could mow the lawn; or bring in the firewood; or feed the chickens. I was told those things a lot. But, no one was that supportive of what was inside me. And, that hurts. Even today, it hurts. My dad has hinted that he knows he neglected me, but he was busy trying to find a woman who could live with us four kids!

See, my mom died when I was 11 years old. My dad married very quickly afterwards. It didn't last long. He married again not quite as quickly, after that. That one lasted a couple of horrible years. Then after that, he may have waited a whole two years before tying the knot. But, found himself single again 18 months later. After THAT one, he waited awhile. He fell in love quickly, but they waited. This time, it's lasted. Twenty-five years this summer... but, my point is, he wasn't available to me in those 'formative' years.

We had moved a lot when we were kids. I mean a lot. Military a lot. Even though my dad wasn't in the military. He was in something worse. The banking business. Every 2 years he was being transferred. I was in 5 schools in my 12 years of schooling. Six if you want to count college. By the time I hit high school I couldn't play the game anymore. I couldn't do the "friends" thing, only to lose them a year afterwards. So, in high school I had very few friends. I did my homework, fed the chickens, and watched Monty Python on Friday nights, and Saturday Night Live on Saturday nights, and Johnny Carson whenever I possibly could.

I was trying to play music; trying to write funny stuff; trying to find the thing that satisfied my soul. I never really did. I found a trade, sure. And, I'm really good at it. But, with the computer age, it's kinda left a lot of us "older" people behind. I find myself laughing at fate and how it's left me behind. And I recognize that it's all my fault, I was so busy trying to make a living that I let the industry pass me by.

So, here I am. I talk to kids that I meet about what they REALLY want out of their lives. And, I see myself in many of them; afraid to actually speak their dreams out loud. Sometimes when I talk to them, I see them glance at their parents. Almost as if they're tattling on someone, or telling a family secret. It's their secret, and they don't want to let it out for fear of being laughed at. The fear of being told that it'll never happen. That it's simply safer to lay in bed at night and dream about it.

I don't want them to keep it inside. I keep buggin' them. I want to be a 'pusher'. I want to push the "youngsters" in the direction they want to go, not the one "that'll work." I want to be a supporter, I really do. Not just someone who says "good job", but someone who's willing to drive a kid to play music with others and sit there and listen with a goofy smile on my face as they figure out the chords to "Mony Mony". Someone who'll read someone else's work, and offer suggestions and ONLY suggestions.

And, I still want to play and write. For me.

Being Used By An Friend

So, SHE just left. SHE is a friend who, if I were built differently, may be something more than a friend. This was the first time she'd visited my humble abode in the 7 years that we've been good friends. I'm sure that says something. Now, understand, I have no one in my life, and haven't now for 5 years.

We really are good, great, wonderful friends. She likes to do the text messaging. So, I will answer her in the same. Usually when it's late at night, it'll be "What're you doing?" When I answer back "Nothing." she'll start a conversation via text messaging. Many times, we have talked via the phone, but that's usually a 45 minutes conversation that ends with her asking me to drive across town to sit with her at her house and drink beer or wine with because she's lonely. I've declined as many times as I've said "okay".

I love this woman. Truly. I really love her. She thinks I'm hysterical; she thinks I'm gorgeous (after she's had a couple of beers); she finds me extremely talented in all the ways that matter to her. And, I think the same about her. She's got the body of a 21 year old (she's 44) (and yes, I've seen it); she's not a prude; we have a lot of the same desires in life. She's a talented singer. She leans more toward the smoky jazz vocals, but she can belt out the Pat Benatar too. She would like nothing more than to have me lead a jazz combo with her singing. But jazz guitar has too many fvking chords!!!

Tonight, she was using me for my music. It's happened to me before. Not through HER, but others that have gone before. She's putting songs on an iPod for her current beau, and is using my CD library to do so. In the past, I have actually gone so far as multi-tracking a song for the boyfriend of someone I cared about. Of course, she did the vocals... but that's how far I go for my friends. No matter where we stand. Or how much they hurt me when they left me!

So, it's really strange to think I have a reputation in this town. Apparently, a friend of mine, told her ex-boyfriend, who told HER current boyfriend, that SHE and I have something going on.

Now, both of us know that's not true. True, we've slept together, but that's what we've done... slept together. No sex. No heavy petting. But, it's gotten back to HER boyfriend that there's something between us. She was able to quell that storm, but wanted to make sure that there wasn't something that I was harboring... to stick with the coastal theme.

There isn't. I hold no torch, I'm not holding for HER, I'm not awaiting my 'turn'. Do I wish it would happen??? Probably. But, that's neither here nor there. We've had the discussion several times. And it always comes down to the same conclusion; what we have is too great a thing to risk for something temporary.

While it's true, if the current boyfriend does her wrong, I can see her taking refuge here at my place (now that she knows where I am!). But, again... it wouldn't last. SHE's not THE one for me. She's close. She's damn close. But, she's not the one. I know that; she knows that. But, we've been growing closer and closer lately, as friends. And, I think both of us are smart enough to realize that anything between us would be nothing more than fleeting.

If she were to come to me in the middle of the night saying all she wants is 12 hours of friends with benefits, nothing more... I'd probably give in. Afterall, I'm just a guy in man's clothing. I'm not THAT strong.

Sweatin' To The Oldies

Everyone has that little "golden time" in their lives. The days where everything seems like it was so idyllic. Warm but not hot summers, snowy but not cold winters, and everyone was friends and hung out together. My idyllic year is all thanks to my little sister.

She fell in love with a musician.

His band was playing across the street from where I lived; I was lucky enough to have the best pub in the city across the street from my apartment! So, on the appointed Saturday night, I sauntered over and met said boyfriend and the rest of the band, their hangers on, their girlfriends, their moms and dads and I think a brother or two.

As a band, they weren't bad. They were hockin' their new album (on cassette) of all original material. But, where they really cooked was on the old rock and roll covers. By the time summer rolled around, bookings were on the downslide. The band needed cash, so 4 of the 5 guys started a covers band, and played a tiny, teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, little pub in SE Portland.

Seriously, this place would hold 25 people. Comfortably. I think by mid-summer they were jamming 50-75 people in the place! We had to get there at 6:45pm for the 10pm show! The dance floor was probably 8x8 if that. But, we crammed in every soul we could, and when it was over full... there was dancing wherever there was empty floor. And, dancing may be a misnomer. It's more just moving up and down, or twisting your body at the waist. That's about all the room we had to move!

So, an overpacked, rockin' pub, in the dead of summer without A/C. made "Sweat" the magic word. I think more people got a summer cold by going out into the 2am cool air, drenched to the skin than from snogging influenza patients around the side of the building where the street light didn't reach.

We recorded one show. They went on at 7pm and all was still. My family were all there, and we're pointed out several times during the show. But, it's amazing to hear the din of the crowd grow from virtually nothing, to a mere dull roar at the end of the show. The beer spillage, the screams to play Beatles tunes, the disappointment when they had to leave the stage to allow the 10pm band to set up.

Yes, it was an idyllic summer. I wasn't long out of a relationship and trying to figure out what to do with my sudden free time. I found it in a sweaty little pub in SE Portland 3 nights a week.

Another night NOT drinking

So he strode out of the pub, his wits in hand. Looking up and down the street he decided to glide north. He knew no one in that direction; his house wasn't in that direction, hell, even his car was the other way. But, he needed to walk, and walk he did.

It's cold. There's a snow flurry happening that wasn't mentioned during the news... go figure. It was *think time*. A time to just empty his head of the shineola that had gathered there.

Bartenders must make the BEST non-drinkers. All night long they stand there and watch people drink and make an ass out of themselves. They must learn SOMETHING.

You should get college credit for sitting at a bar all night. You learn so much about life and the ways of man by watching others make mistakes all night...

Potato skins are NOT cuisine. They are what normally goes in the garbage. (but, strangely tasty, though!!! )

"House Wine" is the equivalent of "sloppy seconds". Friends don't let friends drink "House Wine".

A Pub Crawl should be considered visiting the 4 natural wonders of the world. After 4, everyplace you go is "the greatest place on earth!"

Weathermen should be given a lethal injection of Windex when their prognostications don't come to pass. Up to 3 inches of snow tonight, my azz.

Hershey's Chocolate Kisses should be their own food group.

I just came up with the worst chauvinistic joke... that I won't even share it with the world at large. Suffice to say that... no, nevermind.

Is it really too much to ask to have someone to kiss happy New Year to?
Yeah, I figured as much.

So, he doubled back to his car. Corruptively sober. Slides in behind the wheel of his invisible sedan and pulls out into traffic. As snowflakes start to fall...

"Dammit!!" He yells in disgust. "Alright Joe, you can go." He says undoing the ropes and duct tape.