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Archives – September 2006

In Need of Free Clothing

Friday, September 08, 2006, 7:10:00 PM

…laze around and contemplate – “What is your fate?” Drive with beats bumpin’, ridin’ down low – aint’ nothin’ like the flow. The John Deere’s still yellow and green – make the nature look pretty and clean. “Look a the size of that crock! – Steve Irwin we’ll always remember-you rock…

I think there’s been some kind of boo-boo made on the tool bars I’m given to choose my font here at the Blog-city interface (I’m a fan of this virtual place), so It’ll be a surprise for both of us.

My camping buddies gathered last week for some time out in nature – bonding and enjoying and all the good stuff. Sara, Brad and I will always be bonded by our Friday Night. First, on the way to get to camping we all sat in traffic that moved slowly enough to have taken me 4 hours to go about 11 miles. My trip took the longest. Plus, I was involved in an accident. My car and I came out just fine, but the two cars in front of me didn’t. I was so tempted to blow through the Easy Pass lane – but those people are outright, balls-out, crazy mother fuckers. That lane moved much faster than the cash lanes, so if you wanted to get in to that lane from practically a dead stop – you would have had to lay your right foot down (and in my case release the clutch lickity split too) and leave wheel for a good five feet and continue at that pace. The “Easy Pass” lane drivers meant business. I decided to stay in the cash lane – I was loaded down with a Toyota full of camping gear and my car just isn’t used to heavy duty, jack-rabbit starts. I felt I best not risk it. Anyway, back to Friday night.

I had most of the gear with me, so Brad and Sara could really only set-up one tent. I didn’t get there until it was well into darkness. Plus, we were in just the right spot to get all the fun of Hurrican Ernesto (I think that’s what it’s name was?). We camped in trees so we had good wind cover on the ground where we needed to set-up everything, but the trees above were getting their asses kicked by the wind. It sounded like 747s were landing en mass directly on top of us. Leaves and twigs blowing around in the pouring rain, got stuck in gear and hair. There was blood. There was rain. We got the “Forrest-Gump-describing-Vietnam-Rain” kind of rain.

Amazingly and to great joy, the three of us just trudged through it with the same goal in mind and got everything set-up efficiently with barely even a snear, grumble or bitch. We dried out and made some sausage, then drank a little, hoping that the arm and leg width branches didn’t hit a car ,or a tent, or one of us trying to pee in the storm. We’ll always be known as the crazy hat weekend people. That belongs only to the three of us. It turned out to be a great Labor Day weekend and we dried out nicely with very little damage. We were the only campers on Friday and there weren’t too many more Saturday. Sunday brought the family with the giant house on wheels. We thought we were camping in a spot where generators were prohibited. We found out – we weren’t. Nicki made it clear to the children of the generator folks that bears were going to eat them in the woods and they should be careful that someone doesn’t grab them up and throw them in the fire. I can’t quote Nicki exactly, but in paraphrasing, I can safely say – Nicki might not want to consider mothering any time soon. She did tell me in the bathroom that I wasn’t allowed ot wear moo-moos until I was over 40. this will be made more clear in a paragraph that is yet to come.

We gave out glow sticks to children camping. We sang round the campfire. I played Disc Golf for the first time. The plant lovers visited the Adkins Arboretum. I discovered that the “make-a-tripod-with-your-right-index-finger-maneauver” while trying not to slip and fall into my own urine is not the best way to go next time I’m in that situation. Sara got plenty of sleep. Hanah brought a special treat. We all met someone new. It was the best camping trip I’ve ever had.

As seems to be the usual in my life, I have recently had the great pleasure of gaining about 10 pounds per week for about two months. I’ve gained 50 pounds in a little less than seven weeks. So, in all honesty, I can safely say that ten pounds of it is because of the types of food and beverage I’ve been consuming. My metabolism with moderate exercise only allows me 1100 calories daily to lose weight. I know I’ve gone over that more often than not recently. I think I can also say that at least ten pounds is new muscle weight. Perhaps even I can say that my trip to the hospital two weeks ago added maybe ten pounds at the most. So from where did the other 20 come. It’s not my thyroid-it’s been tested three times. It’s still a mystery as of today.

I have almost no clothing. I go to Goodwill and find a few things to wear, but the very next week, I have to go find another size. This is why I told my friend Nicki that I was just going to start wearing moo-moos. As I mentioned earlier, Nicki strictly forbade me from sportin’ the moo-moo look. She even threatened to do random closet checks, so I don’t think I’ll get away with it. Of course, my left foot has already taken heavy flack, as it were, and the extra 50 pounds is splitting a poorly healed fracture and I have some kind of boney thing sticking out the side of my foot that doesn’t feel to me like it’s dealing with the extra weight well. It’s off to the Orthopedic surgeon I go. I’ll get the scoop on the 18th.

There really isn’t much of an upside to gaining 50 pounds so quickly. Maybe except is someone tried to knock me down for some reason. I already have a low center of gravity and if I have to carry around all this extra weight, I will use it to counter-act if necessary. A co-worker keeps telling me it’s because I’m getting ready for a long, cold winter. Who knows what’s up? I don’t. I’m really a brick shit-house now. I remember when I was younger, my dad used to tell me I was built like a brick shit-house. I had swimmers shoulders and soccer legs – still do in a way. Now, all I know is that I have less than 2% fat in my calves. Less than 6% fat in my upper leg. A rather large perdentage of fat in my mid-section and surprisingly little in my chest and arms. You’d never know most of that just by eyeballing it. It was hard enough finding miniature brick shit-house clothes before the extra weight. Now I have to find super-sized, miniature brick shit-house clothes. I have no money. No liquid assets to speak of at this moment. I have to quit smoking, quit any comsumption of alcoholic beverages and lose 50 pounds (could be 60 pounds by next week!) and I have to do it starting right now – all at once. I need the money. I found out I have a congenital heart defect. I can’t have the empty beer calories. I can’t drink beer and not smoke. I can’t eat to relieve cigarette cravings. Well, if it’s gonna rain, it might as well be “Forrest Gump Vietnam or Tuckahoe State Park Hurrican Ernesto” rain. All three at once – hmmmm – let all the helpful forces out there give me strength. Yikes!

I could on a bit more, but I have to take an exam and I really want it over with, so until next time. Thanks for reading.

Bring out your drum circle and hear what happens.

The Heat of the Heart

Thursday, August 31, 2006, 8:07:00 PM

Oh, for shit sake. I don’t know – I’m having a conversation with my friend Brad and we are talking about Art and Music. Those who have read more than a couple of my blog entries probably get the fact that I encourage music LIKE THERE’S NO TMORROW. Music in schools. Music in the dentist’s office. Music when I’m sleeping. Music in the prisons. Music in your head. Music, Music, Music. I couldn’t make it much more plain. Music illuminates itself okay.

If I had a magic wand, per se, I’d try to choose my flash-of-the-wand wisely, but I’d risk screwing up – because someone has to do it.

I think I’m going to get a tattoo above the two ying/yang dolphins. It will have two statements. The top tattoo will read “NO NITRO” and the bottom tattoo will read “CISUM”. When I look in the mirror, I’ll see MUSIC. The dyslexics might get it too.

Some people think I am scattered and confused, but I live on a longitudinal scale, just like everybody else. I progress, however, I do it at my pace. Things get accomplished. I burn through neurochemicals processing, planning, researching, thinking, thinking, thinking. How can I stress the importance of Art and Music (I consider them one and same) in all aspects of life on this Earth. What’s a Universal communication medium? I bet my life on MUSIC.

All confused parties, please feel free to interject via e-mail at Actually, in reality, I invite you all, for any reason to send me thoughts – I’m always open for conversation. That’s the way I learn. How about you?

If my lungs could fill with one last full-on deep breathe that would allow me to sing a song the entire Earth and it’s creatures could hear, I would do so not giving one tiny bit of shit that my final death breathe is leaving my body to leave me a lifeless shell.

Give it some thought. I’ll continue to do the same. Memorable melodies make more miracle moments – MAN.

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