Sunday, November 30, 2008
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.
Monday, November 24, 2008
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:
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.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
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!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
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?
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?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
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."
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."
Saturday, November 15, 2008
"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."
Friday, November 14, 2008
“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.
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.
Monday, November 10, 2008
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.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
