Black Dog Bitch

That fucking black dog has been sniffing around again. Talk about an uninvited guest. I woke up this morning and the word “strangle” came to mind. That is what it feels like. Oxygen is cut off. I can't breathe. Energy dissipates. Hope is snuffed out. Friends and family are cut off. That bitch prowls the yard, daring me to step outside. My mind becomes my prison. My thoughts and heart race. All intellectual activity is submerged in endless conversations with myself. I might say that it is impossible for you to understand if you haven't suffered from it. But that doesn't really mean anything. This is my problem, not yours. I have this reality, and you do not. It is that simple. Of course you can't understand my reality. I can't understand yours either. So we agree to a mutual lack of understanding.

Then suddenly, the black dog slinks off into the bush. Like this morning. No particular reason. (I know that is not true, but I say it anyway.) As easily as she came, she went. But alas, I know she is still out there, just beyond my senses. She waits for weakness and will come calling again. Part of me needs her. It's a fairly sick and unhealthy relationship, but perfection takes time and that is okay.

I've been reading Camus lately. It helps me get by. I find I'm not alone in living a life without meaning. It is an absurd world, and that is just fine. I must accept that I am living a life without appeal. Camus finds liberation in acknowledging this important truth. I can too.

You're not going to get me through this, are you?

Last night, while I was waiting for the booze to take hold, I thought about leaving here. I got this crazy idea that I might pack a bag and just start walking. I'd head south for a while, and then west. See America first hand. Sleep in the bushes. Meet new people. Gain some perspective. I'm so sick of waiting for something good to happen. I think I'll force the issue. If I disappear, just know that I'm on the road.

Notes on the Run

Yet more days filled with that old feeling of waiting for something to happen...

I discovered a few neat bars last week over in “Midtown,” Charlotte's version of Ferndale. I especially liked the Penguin, which was something like a 50's diner, but with more tattooed (though very polite) freaks. We also played disc golf at Renaissance this weekend. Simply an amazing course. Very challenging shots with lots of obstacles. The first eight holes crisscross through a wooded ravine, forcing players to confront fences, uphill shots, a muddy stream/bog, and sudden drop-offs around the baskets. The second half of the course settles down with some more standard long drives and dog-leg shots, but doesn't fail to impress. Check it out at:

http://www.dgcoursereview.com/course.php?id=587&mode=ci

On Sunday I finally got up early enough to go play football with some nice folks who run a pick-up game through Craigslist. I had a lot of fun, other than when I fell on my head and blacked out for a few seconds. I've never been knocked out before. Now I know what that feels like. Next time I will be more careful. Thankfully, I don't seem much worse for wear, but I am very sore.

Oh, one last thing: I deleted Windows XP and I'm now running Ubuntu as my operating system. Open source software for the win! Windows can go fuck itself with all its goddamn viruses and spy-ware exploits. Of course, now I'll have to deal with all the compatibility issues, not to mention actually learning how to use Linux.

P.S. I'd really like to thank the cockroaches that got into my leftovers while I was writing this. Unlike Steve, I guess they thought my soup was pretty tasty.

Down and out in Charlotte, NC

The Good Lord has seen fit to give me a few lessons in humility over the past few weeks. Message received. Fortune, good night. Smile once more; turn thy wheel!

Walmart Bingo

So, once again the interwebs prove there is nothing new under the sun...

At Walmart the other night, Steve and I "created" what we dubbed Walmart Bingo. Our rules: Each player picks five common types of people (think real salt o' the earth types) and looks for them in the store. First to spot all five wins! The loser has to buy the beer. It turned our usually humdrum shopping trip into a frenzied competition. Try not judge...Also, you get to wax philosophically on the realities of the American Dream.

Alas, other people thought of this first. It's still a lot of fun though. Does anyone have any suggestions for good categories?

Looking on the bright side...

"When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief;
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief...

He bears the sentence well that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he hears,
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.
These sentences, to sugar or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal.
But words are words. I never yet did hear
That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear."

"Rabbit, rabbit," on the first...

"I will ask for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast. O strange! Every cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil."

“The horror! The horror!”

Being perpetually unemployed has given me a lot of time to catch up on my reading. By way of a November roundup, here are some brief reviews and thoughts:

The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs – Some trash journalist decides to spend a year following the ritualistic and moralistic guidelines of the Bible as literally as possible. Hilarity ensues. He has to separate his milk plate from his meat, wear a white robe, grow a beard, observe the Sabbath, and avoid unclean women. And the list goes on and on. Take a look, it's in the Book. The best part was probably his trip to visit some very friendly and devout snake handlers in Tennessee. Think crazy, yet oddly uplifting. He even runs across a group of gay evangelical Christians. Try to figure that one out. In all seriousness though, his book is an entertaining read, with many laugh out loud stories. It is also appropriate for anyone contemplating their own spiritual progression. He starts out as an agnostic, and ends up…well, go find out for yourself.

A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle – I normally avoid books like this one. Think new age guru with a system to sell, and you wouldn’t be far off from what Tolle is expounding. But my sister recommended it, so I dutifully gave it a read. Although the book has many flaws, including unsupported claims, logic faults, and poor editing, Tolle’s central message is actually quite intriguing. Basically, he believes that our ego, the voice inside our head, runs and ruins our life by preventing our true state of Being from manifesting itself. I know, I know, total crap, right? But if you give Tolle’s ideas a fair hearing, you’ll realize there is some truth to them. Our ego prevents us from living happily in the moment. If we deny our ego, which he characterizes as an almost alien force living within us, then we will no longer be upset about the past or anxious over the future. Denying the ego means you will suffer less, because you have fewer desires. You’ll most likely treat yourself and others better, because you’ll be less angry, fearful, stressed, and unfulfilled. I’m not saying you will like this book, but if you are in a receptive frame of mind, you’ll find something worthwhile here.

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck – A truly uplifting tale of George and Lennie, two losers humping the American dream during the Great Depression. They wander around, they eat beans, they argue, they work, and they hope for a better future. There’s also something about dead mice and raising rabbits in there. Lennie, the delightful comic relief of the story, is desperate to raise some rabbits. Too bad he accidentally kills every animal he touches. Not to ruin the surprise, but George blows Lennie’s brains out at the end. Best thing for him, really. I’m eagerly awaiting the illustrated version.

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad – Christ Almighty, what a train wreck. I think Kurtz’s final words, “The horror, the horror!” were describing Conrad’s narrative stylings. I can’t believe this book is so popular. The climatic meeting between Marlow and Kurtz is one big letdown that barely takes place and is described in some sort of extended acid flashback fashion. Not even Kurtz’s memorable last words can redeem this dreck. Just go watch Apocalypse Now instead.

A Trip to Kings Mountain

So we managed to visit the Kings Mountain National Military Park on Saturday. I had wanted to go to Cowpens as well, but we ran out of daylight. (Some pictures and information on the battle are here: http://www.nps.gov/kimo/) Kings Mountain might not have the grandeur of larger battlefields like Gettysburg and Antietam, but it possesses an undeniable beauty of its own. Here are some pictures I took of the ridge where the fighting took place and a couple of the monuments:

After touring the park, we hiked up to the top of nearby Browns “Mountain.” Although it doesn't measure up to the real mountains of western NC, it was still a nice day trip. Unfortunately, I thought it would be a good idea to wear my sandals, so my ankles are currently destroyed with some painful sprains. Oh well. A view from the top:

And now, good folks, I say adieu. We’re off to the Dropkick Murphys show. Hopefully I won’t get my skull pounded in by some real punkers.

I'm in this prison you built for you

My life feels like an extended run of Waiting for Godot. I take some small comfort from this bit of dialogue:

VLADIMIR:
Did you ever read the Bible?
ESTRAGON:
The Bible . . . (He reflects.) I must have taken a look at it.
VLADIMIR:
Do you remember the Gospels?
ESTRAGON:
I remember the maps of the Holy Land. Coloured they were. Very pretty. The Dead Sea was pale blue. The very look of it made me thirsty. That's where we'll go, I used to say, that's where we'll go for our honeymoon. We'll swim. We'll be happy.
VLADIMIR:
You should have been a poet.
ESTRAGON:
I was. (Gesture towards his rags.) Isn't that obvious?
Silence.

What else can I say? This too shall pass.

The King is dead. Long live the King!

A neat history lesson:

Sodom meets Gomorrah on the Cumberland River

If Tennessee is God’s country, then he is going to be pretty pissed off when he stops by Nashville for his millennial visit. Initially, I was less than encouraged about our prospects for fun in Nashville after passing dozens of “Jesus loves you” and “Repent, ye sinners” signs on the way through eastern Tennessee on Friday. Apparently the good “over-the-mountain” folks are entirely humorless when it comes to matters of faith. Thankfully, Nashville is the kind of place that embraces those of us with a certain kind of … moral flexibility.

After settling into our palatial digs at the Marriott (a chain owned by Mormons, no less), we hit the streets in search of food and strong drink. We enjoyed a rather normal dinner at an oddly authentic Mexican restaurant, and then walked down to the arena for the night’s main event. Nothing could have prepared me (with the possible exception of City Club) for the gathering of freaks that is a Nine Inch Nails show on a Halloween night. I always enjoy moments when I get to feel normal in comparison to the company I am keeping. Nearly everyone was in costume. Needless to say, the ladies were in fine form. Apparently Halloween is a great excuse to wear as little as possible. The show itself was musically and visually stunning, but the kids were more interested in filming the band on their cell phones than dancing.

The rest of the night is pretty much a blur at this point. All I can really remember is that Nashville’s downtown has more bars than just about any other city I can think of. The streets were flooded with revelers intent on making Caligula proud. Some other vague recollections from the after concert partying: twin sisters dressed as Mormons singing “Gangsta's Paradise,” two girls basically fucking on the dance floor, Steve’s bizarre encounter with a “Naughty Nurse,” statues of Elvis just about everywhere, and a few other things I’ll leave out to protect the mostly innocent. In sum: Nashville is one hell of a town.

Saturday was a day of rest and recovery. A stroll through the University District showed us something of Nashville’s more ordinary side, and we enjoyed another excellent meal at a solid Greek diner. You know it’s good when you have to place your order with a series of hand gestures and polite smiles. Unfortunately, Zimmer finally succumbed to the sickness in the restaurant’s bathroom. We’re not, however, easily discouraged, so we managed to squeeze in a few more bars that night for good measure. I spent most of the evening amusing myself with some of the finer microbrews that Tennessee has to offer.

The trip home was long and tiring, but mercifully uneventful. Driving back over the mountains reminded me that I’m not actually a city kind of guy at heart. Something about that lonely wilderness fills me with the urge to gather up a sack of rice, a rifle, and head off into the trees. When Sodom finally burns, you’ll be welcome to join my campfire.

On the road: Halloween style

We’re off to Nashville this morning. I hope everyone has a safe and spooktacular Halloween! Watch out for witches and demons. They walk among us:

Just a friendly reminder to the powers that be:

You're going to call off your rigorous investigation. You're going to publicly state that there is no underground group. Or... these guys are going to take your balls. They're going to send one to the New York Times, one to the LA Times press-release style. Look, the people you are after are the people you depend on. We cook your meals, we haul your trash, we connect your calls, we drive your ambulances. We guard you while you sleep. Do not... fuck with us.

Monster Sunday School: The entire class learns that some of God’s greatest gifts are unanswered prayers

This is possibly the strangest show I’ve ever seen on television: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monster_Sunday_School. Nothing brings me closer to Jesus quite like monster sock puppets correcting my moral failings through song.

At the end of the longest line…

Altogether this was an excellent weekend. Saturday we finally bottled the dark beer we’ve been brewing. Hopefully, some 52 bottles of yummy beer will be ready in about ten days. I also got part of my check from Captain Bringdown, which was a nice surprise. I can tell that there isn’t a lot of love lost between us.

This morning we biked at Sherman Branch (http://www.singletracks.com/php/trail.php?id=1952), a gentle how-do-you-do after the hell of the 12 hour Treeshaker race. Sherman Branch is not the toughest trail ever, but it is a lot of fun. I even went over that nasty wooden roller coaster obstacle in the pictures. It doesn’t look like much I suppose, but get your ass on a bike and go over something like that at speed and we’ll talk.

The afternoon was mostly wasted with a friendly game of disc golf at Kilbourne Park (http://www.charlottedgc.com/kilborne.asp).
My game was cursed as usual, but between babysitting the dog and getting drunk on cheap beer, I’m not that shocked that my driver disc found every tree that it could.

Tomorrow will most likely be a wash, other than I might finally send out a few resumes, clean out the small room, and maybe write that long essay about leaving graduate school.

Super Bonus Fun Etc.: I’m really looking forward to the Halloween road trip to see Nine Inch Nails in Nashville. Besides seeing a great band on an otherwise awesome night, I’m excited to add yet another visited state to my list of lifetime accomplishments.

Today was a low “give me a cup of poison” day, but you’ll still find me at the end of the longest line.

So long and thanks for all the bringdown

Well, that didn’t take very long. After yet another heated conversation, Captain Bringdown told me to pack up my tools and go home. I find it funny that after working as a greenhouse keeper, a roofer, a truck loader, a painter, a trim carpenter, and a history teacher, that this was the first time a boss told me that I was anything other than one of the best employees they ever had. I understand that my attitude (meaning I actually stand up for myself) probably did not help the situation, but I refuse to be worked like a slave and treated with contempt. I will not eat your shit with a smile and call you sir. I don’t have a family to support. I live well within my means. I can get a better job.

At least now I can go finish up Burton’s exterior repaint. Other goals for the day: learn a new song on my guitar, finish setting up my room, and yet more job hunting.

I came to Charlotte looking for new experiences and I certainly had one today. I’m just disappointed that such a total douche bag got the pleasure of being the first person to ever fire me.

The legend of Captain Bringdown

I really need a new job. My current boss is a close approximation of Captain Bringdown of West Virginia fame. I've never worked so hard for so little while at the same time being told that I'm not doing enough. What a fucking clusterfuck this is turning out to be.

Gone drinking!

Tonight I will be washing out the bad aftertaste of work at Uptown’s fabulous Cutter’s Bar. Bitter old dudes in suits and delicious pork nachos for the win.

No more blowing guys on Colfax Avenue for a pint of vodka for this cowboy!

So I started the new job today. Oddly it feels much like the old job I held seven years ago. Would this seem to suggest that I’ve wasted the better part of seven years? I want to say no, but in truth I have to admit that I’m essentially worse off now than I was all those years ago. Pretty sad. Mistakes were made. I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time. Perhaps realizing this will allow me to have greater success in the days to come, but I fear that I will end up just making the same old mistakes. I waste so much time trying to sense which way the tide is flowing…and I still can’t tell. I feel like I’m doomed to toil in the hottest and noisiest jobs our fine country has to offer. Oh well…a great man once suggested we should learn to enjoy losing.

If nothing else, I wish people had more respect for skilled tradesmen. Most people just don’t understand the shit that we have to go through so their McMansions look beautiful. Next time you look around your house and admire your perfect life and possessions, say a silent prayer for all the poor bastards that broke their backs to satisfy your aesthetic sensibilities.

Now, off to pack my lunch for tomorrow like a good little communist!

Redoubling your effort after you've forgotten your aim...

By stating the narrowness of the limits of action, is one denying the role of the individual in history? I think not. One may only have the choice between striking two or three blows: the question arises: will one be able to strike them at all? To strike them effectively? To do so in the knowledge that only this range of choices is open to one? I would conclude with the paradox that the true man of action is he who can measure most nearly the constraints upon him, who chooses to remain within them and even to take advantage of the weight of the inevitable, exerting his own pressure in the same direction. All efforts against the prevailing tide of history -- which is not always obvious -- are doomed to failure... So when I think of the individual, I am always inclined to see him imprisoned within a destiny in which he himself has little hand, fixed in a landscape in which the infinite perspectives of the long term stretch into the distance both behind him and before. In the historical analysis ... the long run always wins in the end.

-- Fernand Braudel

Here I am at the beginning. Am I going against the tide of history?