Of course there was booze involved

When you're in the wine business, one tends to drink. Usually quite a bit. Drinking happens at work when salesmen bring you samples, maybe even a winemaker comes with them. You talk wine, you drink wine. There are trade tastings, which can be bacchanalian affairs with tables full of wine, all of it for free.

At work, I drank. At home, I drank. Socially, I drank.

One thing my wife and I did in that small apartment was throw a good party. Again, it was great that our downstairs neighbor slept like the dead.

And we were also invited out for the occasional party. This particular one was at the rented house of my wife's colleagues.



I'm still trying to remember exactly when it happened. I was working in a wine shop, but can't remember which one. All I know is I got seriously drunk and I started talking out of both sides of my ass.

This part is not my story to tell, so I'll omit those details. It was about an incident that happened to my wife at her work. It involved a hearing that became very Kafkaesque. My wife's accuser may also have put some offensive graffiti in the hallway of our apartment building. The outcome was not favorable toward my wife.

This did not happen to me. But it felt as it did the way my wife battered me with every single detail of every step of the process. The same way she would hammer me with every single detail of a person who cut her off in traffic, who gave her slow service in line, anywhere. The moment I stepped into the apartment, or the car, I would be hammered with her anger, with every outrage she had. This went on for a long time. And it got to me, what happened to her made me very irate, especially with all the crazy shit I was dealing with at my job. I could barely get a word in.

So at the party we were talking about their work, it was always about their work. Little else existed outside of their work. I found that one of the important faculty where my wife worked was there, and I called him over and probably said some very disparaging things about his workplace, the fascist judicial system they had in place, and academia in general. To the person's credit, they walked away from a drunk idiot. I deserved to be punched out. Hell, do not even remember the person's name.

An embarrassing moment in a lengthening line of embarrassing incidents caused by my drinking. Had to call the hosts the next day and apologize. One of my wife's friends called my behavior "magnificent" then changed the verdict to "rude and arrogant" after my wife moved out. We were not invited out much after this particular night.

Illegitimi non carborundum

One of the bravest performances I've ever seen.



Here's some of the context.

My respect for Kris Kristofferson went up another notch.

I hope she can keep herself intact. Her new record is pretty damn good.

I oppressed that muffin

The Writers' Block Halloween show last night was another evening of mayhem and poetry. The was a nun, Rapunzel, Princess Leia, Nacho Libre (and steel chairs) a mad hot pirate and so much more.

The highlight for me was a pimp and a mime doing a duet to Shel Silverstein's 'Boa Constrictor'

A guy dressed like Garth from Wayne's World won the scream contest, but he was not in costume. The mime came in second.

There was the usual coy racism. Jake and my wife sparkled as hecklers. Somewhere in there was an inappropriate joke about Roger Ebert.

Maybe I will wear a costume next year.

Got the laptop back from the shop. When I brought it home I tested it. Same damn problem. Not pleased. Called the shop and questioned what kind of testing they did with the new fan. Even asked if they actually replaced it. We shall see if they make good on their work.

Not getting it

As I was dropping off my son at his mother's on Friday she tells me, "I have something for you."

And I'm thinking, "Hey maybe it's my little league baseball uniform!"

Turns out, it was some food that he will not eat for her, or at day camp. Not my baseball uniform that she took and did not return to me despite my asking for it back when she moved out four years ago.

Long time to keep something that does not belong to you, and a long sentence to explain it.

My mother gave me that uniform in the hopes of seeing her grandson wearing it. He's not getting any smaller, she's not getting any older. About once or twice a year I've asked for it. The answer remains the same.

Going a Bit Deep

Such a fantastic notion has been formed in our culture; one that has been manipulated to believe that the rich are poor and need more and the poor are rich and have too much.

My son is not human. How he can survive on little sleep, get knocked out to have dental work done and still stay up until one thirty in the morning is astonishing. This kid can power a neighborhood.

He had a lot of cavities filled in, and was not happy coming out of the anesthesia. Scary and sad to watch, poor guy - and the over bearing nurse who assumed way too much about what my son does for activities and eats for starters, would not shut the hell up. I know she has a job to do, but if she got any closer she would have been behind us.

The insurance company made me a low, but ultimately fair offer on the Volvo and I made a commitment to buy a 1993 Subaru Legacy Wagon.

The Subaru has some issues. There's a leak in the exhaust that is easily repairable and the brakes are going to need some work. I offered to pay "X" amount in cash and the dealer agreed. Should be picking it up tomorrow.

What is sleep again?

Bottom line: You do not mess with poets

These days I try very, very hard not to blog about and archive outrage here. It's better for my state of mind to keep the online world a lighter place.

You know what's coming, right?

I became aware of this ignorant posting by an Ann Coulter wannabe this morning and have added one comment to the fray.

Notice that, for the most part, those who disagree with the ignorant statement are more articulate and reasonable that the initial wave of sycophants who tried to cleverly say, me too.

I give the blogger credit for not telling any of the educators to die in a fire, although one of the replies suggested hanging. Ouch!

Also, the blogger has not banned or screened comments, including comments from those who are directly involved in the event, nor suggested any of the people who disagreed with her are too chicken shit to attack her physically. Not that I'm completely comparing this to anything that recently happened in my life.

Sitting around your house, pointing fingers at things you do not like and saying hate hate hate, not cool, especially if you have no idea what you are talking about. Or if one is so ingrained in their own fear to see clearly. Asking a few simple questions about what this event, or another event, like a womens poetry slam, is about could do wonders for a personal education. Instead we see the malice, the snark that masks not having a clue, and the fires of bigotry are stoked even higher.

I don't matter, you don't matter, neither does this mindless clatter

Went to the mens room at work. Standing at the urinal I could hear the guy sitting in a stall. He did not sound happy. Sounded like his girlfriend was breaking up with him, over the phone, while he was sitting on the toilet. It was also the handicapped stall.

Did anyone really need to hear this?

Been doing some more thrifting. Found a replacement glass shade for a lamp that was broken three years ago when a small child tipped it over. Today, a larger child noticed something different about the lamp in the corner and tried to investigate.



Changed the locks on the house last weekend. Now that I own the house completely, it was the right thing to do to ensure that nothing else is taken, physically or photographically. It was time.

When my ex moved out two and a half years ago, in her property grab she took my old little league uniform. Despite my asking on more than one occasion, I've been waiting for her to return it. My mother gave it back to me so that one day she could see her grandson wearing it. She's not getting any younger and has health issues.



In the meantime this may be the puck moving defense man the Blue Jackets need.

The Teabaggers Have Lost Their Air Force

How many poor people do you know have a pilot's license, let alone their own plane? Very sad incident. His wife and child get to clean up his mess. Selfish man.

Watched a silent called The Crowd last night. It's hailed as one of the best silent dramas. I thought it was a very good one. Beautifully photographed and directed by King Vidor. It shows off New York City in the same light that Woody Allen did in Manhattan. The Crowd is a depiction of being a smaller than small fish in a huge pond. Being a speck in the corporate world and trying to get ahead in it. Struggling to support a family. Had it not been for an amateur and over blown performance by James Murray, the lead actor, I think The Crowd could be a contender for one of the best American films ever made, instead of merely a very good one.



Then there's the story of the death (not death) of Gordon Lightfoot yesterday. I was duped. While I did not purchase any of his music on iTunes or Amazon, I did reserve a copy of Gord's Gold from the library. Hey, If You Can Read My Mind is still a fine song, dead or alive.

Monday this and that

For many years I kept a blog on Live Journal. In April, I stopped posting. I do not miss it. This place and Facebook keep me busy enough. LJ's dying though. Few of the people I knew back in the day are posting anymore, and what I am seeing now is a bunch of twitter digests. Boring. Glad I got out of there when I did.

Zombies. I hate zombies. They do not impress me. You can only moan out 'brains' once, before I'm bored to tears. I wanted to write a poem about how much I hated zombies but Scott Woods beat me to it. I do not give a crap about what to do in case a zombie attacks, zombie walks, zombie pub crawls, zombie mash ups with literature, or anything that has to do with zombies.

I'd rather hear about pirates.

I've just confused my son. He asked for a lollipop. Gave him one, then took one for myself. He was trying to take it out of my mouth.

Been doing some reading. Was not overly impressed with Nick Hornby's latest Juliet, Naked. It tells the story of music fan obsessed with a reclusive musician. The book begins with a clear picture of what internet obsession can do to a person, and their relationships then fades into a story of failing relationships - which is not as interesting as the internet obsessions. Hornby knows his subjects well, yet failed to connect with this reader.

Also limped through the latest product from Dan Brown. Still trying to figure out what The Lost Symbol was trying to tell me amidst all the puzzles, Newton trivia, Masonic rites and action. For all the criticism of Brown, founded and unfounded, he knows how to jump start a book and keep the pace on the floor for nearly 500 pages. This time, his devices were tired, his descriptions creepy (Langdon's finely toned body was heavier than it appeared) and characters cliched.

What is making me happy is my Scottish Sister-in-Law getting me a copy of the new Denise Mina. It's not being released in the U.S. until March.

Yes, my Wife's sister and boyfriend are here for a few days. Taking them to our fine zoo tomorrow and the Circleville Pumpkin Festival on Wednesday. Good stuff, and the weather has warmed up.