Happenings ten years ago

This happened in my workplace.

"_______reported that a man walked past her in the adult fiction shelving and
she felt something on her coat. It was a white substance (most likely
semen). The woman could not identify the man. The back of the woman's
coat was covered with the substance as was the floor. I used the
bio-hazard kit to clean area and threw the coat away. I let _______
use the staff restroom to clean up. _______ wanted to know if she
would be reimbursed for her coat. The coat belonged to her husband who
is now deceased. ________ was visibly upset."

Eastbound and down

Taking a necessary trip tomorrow. Not quite an escapade but what can you do.



This summer's going to turn nuts in mid-July.

The Night Cory Lidle Died

The aftermath of what happens when the poles of your world shift just seeing someone on the other side of baggage claim. No, it was not supposed to happen. It was not allowed to happen. None of the aftermath was. But it did.

I admit it was me who asked for the goodbye kiss. The first, last, and only one it was, except that it was not. We were not supposed to see each other again. Obviously it did not turn out that way, either.

Then it was fifteen months of crazy. The whole thing got written up on Live Journal and I regret making too much of it public. A weekend in October 2006 was a pivotal moment of timelines. Already broken, I did manage to survive it. Hindsight is a moot point. Love is one of the most inexplicable things in the world to explain. The woman who loves me is among the bravest.

What a Dump

The sun finally made an appearance yesterday afternoon. After mowing the lawn it was time to sit in the back room with a beverage and some vinyl.

One of the records I picked was from the Walker Brothers.



They were one of the rare bands who were American and became famous in the UK.

This morning I woke up to read that one of the founders of the group, John Walker, has died of cancer at the age of 67.

Not since Roy Orbison have I played vinyl only to find that the artist died the next day. If I were David Bowie or Paul Weller I'd not cancel any doctor's appointments.


"This is my first marriage!" I exclaimed during the first scene of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf."

Ah Martha, telling George that, "He knew," when he really did not. Or did he? Geez, they deserved each other. Not that I was Richard Burton, or she Elizabeth Taylor. It's the only film to be nominated in every eligible category of the Academy Awards and every one of those nominations was deserved.

There is a bit of drinking that happens during the film. Alcohol is bad for you, kids, remember this.

In other news my son has figured out how to unlock the locks of the back door. This is both good and bad.

Philosophy, is the Talk on a Cereal Box

I haven't been punchy here for awhile. Or been self revealing in the form of navel gazing. While I'm in a good place, overall - there's always room for improvement.

There are things I'd like to write about, for instance, the Columbus Metropolitan Library levy, but anything I say, as a disgruntled former employee, would come across as me being bitter. So I do not criticize it, even though I'm more for the levy than I am against it. But, as I learned while working there, expressing any opposing view of that place was strictly forbidden.

It's not even that I'm censoring myself. I do not want to be negative. The trauma of being at my old workplace still exists. After three years I've finally found myself not flinching while being around my current coworkers when they talk to me, about anything. Only now am I coming to terms with it to find myself facing their levy campaign head on in the lives of the people around me. And I understand why it should pass, but there are still people there I want to slap with a dead fish. The bad stuff is not something that is easily let go, but this extension of my pain is not good either.

It's hard for me, like Edie Brickell, I don't get too deep. Yet, I do have my own passionate, yet often misinformed, opinions. Problem is, it comes out as anger, rage, a rant rather than anything with any real depth or intellect. Which is more about me than I care to admit but it's on the screen now.

The online interactions have all become a bunch of snarky one liners in lengthy Facebook threads, and they're starting to bore me. What's getting solved there? Opinions are not changing. I'm not going to retreat to this blog, shake my fist and give out links of things that I hate - there's nothing productive or remotely positive about that way of communicating.

The last thing I need, is a cell phone, another electronic addiction. I'm not a gamer. What I do here is the extent of my gaming. I watch very little actual television, outside of sports, and have no clue who these Jersey Shore people and their ilk are. Nor do I care. Why should I care about Heidi and Spencer, whoever they are? I read Entertainment Weekly and see the names and headlines and read that none of these reality people have done anything of any substance, other than making show. I'm not impressed. Television seems very boring now days and I'm better at entertaining myself than shouting old Nirvana lyrics at the world.

Sometimes I think even the poetry has suffered. Feel like it's rehash. Even when I challenge myself the results are mean. I can't even write a love poem. Should be grateful I'm not blocked. Stuff is coming out. Most of it I'd like to pitch. Some of it, I have not read in public and probably never will. Have I painted myself into a corner?

Never watched Lost. Don't watch Mad Men or anything on pay cable. Wish I saw The Wire, maybe I'll borrow the DVD from the library, but the rest seems a waste of my time. My dead boss used to say 'life's too short' before he dropped dead of a crack overdose at the age of 33 - and he was right.

I try not to pay attention to Glenn Beck, the group of inbred Palins or how the crazy folks in the Federal Reserve and Treasury have pushed this country into insolvency. At the same time it's so bad out there we've forgotten how to coexist. No one wants to share the $1,000 pizza though - and why should they? They paid for it. Then tweeted about it.

So do I lay on my deathbed wishing I had not wasted so much time on my laptop, or that I wasted too much time watching Gene Simmons' reality show? Heck, at least I did not do both. Now, if I could put myself in a situation to ditch both of those options for the real alternative - there's your hot action.

I'd Like to Thank You for Nothing at All

Left work early. Might be picking up some crud, or not enough sleep after the neighbor's car alarm went off at 4AM. The alarm going off was one thing, the gunshot that followed was another. There were no screams afterward.

So I'm in a bit of a fog.



The writing is coming, the feedback is minimal. Nothing like sending an email or message and not getting a response. Then I get accused of being passive aggressive, or if I get loud enough, an ass. So be it. Life's too short. I've got other things on my mind.

Last night's open mic, was just weird. Right from the start when a poet put on an MP3 from his phone of a MLK speech then left the stage until it was done. I said to him after that George Wallace gave that piece a 2.1 at the Atlanta Slam, and he did not know who George Wallace was.

The collaborative work we did may have gone over better with more rehearsal. In any case, what's done is done. Slam season starts next week and it's time to prove that going to IWPS was not me being Edison Lighthouse.

After Leaving Mom on the Tarmac

Technology with its small buttons and indecipherable instructions frustrated me to the max yesterday then a certain title underwriter set me off with a new hoop to jump through, after I asked weeks ago if there were any more hoops.



At least J.C. Penney came through when least expected. Thank you large retailer.

Had not been to the Eastland Mall in years. When did every other store become a shoe retailer of some sort? Seriously, A Foot Locker, Finish Line and about a dozen stores sell footwear.

Since the Blue Jackets are unwilling to make a trade or replace the coach and desperately need a shaking up may I suggest replacing the team captain. I think R.J. Umberger is ready to lead. They stunk up home ice, again, last night.