we all lived happily ever after. The End.

Princess Dorthy, George of the Jungle, Captain Sex Instructor and the Magic Septar of Little Bopeep were all reunited in the land of Nuts and Bolts. The kingdom is saved from danger and...

Wow.. George, that isn't a woman. Come on, we're almost home!

Lance bone-strong! Our hero. Please, get us our Septar back! He knocked her over with his mighty bone and Captain Sex Instructor swooped in to catch the Septar.

NO! Little Bopeep caught up to us and rips the magic Septar out of our ship. Luckily she still had her sheep problem to distract her.

This fair maiden offered to clean my shower. Thank the heavens I cleaned it the day before. Must make it back to nut and bolt land.

I told Captian Sex Instructor that it was time to continue our journey, but he insisted on partying still. He is the Captain. There were blows thrown and some massive funneling, but in the end the journey continued.

The cops came and tried to stop our Journey. They said my ship was not commissioned and that I shouldn't boat around drunk like that. George saves the day and bribes her with his banana.

After three months at sea, I had to take a break as well and hit on fair maidens.

Hey, the little school girl needed help. And she was dirty, so we took a break from our journey and I gave her a shower. What?

WOW! On our journey, Princess Dorthy, Captain Sex Instructor and I decided to stop in New Orleans and drink our faces off. Little did we know about Hurrican Katrina's devestation on the town. But fate has a way of working out because we found George of the Jungle rescuing a victim! Our journey is almost complete!! DUDE, look out for that tree..

Whew.. we found the Nurse. And what is this? The image of the Queen points out Little Bopeep's magic septure. Luckily, Little Bopeep was too distracted by the nurse who was helping her in her most unfortunate sheep accident

After two months at sea and lots of beer, I finally found Captain Sex Instructor. Princess Dorthy did not realize who he was, so she once again attacked him with her big right cannon... NURSE! Nurse!

It's okay. I found the Nurse and she took care of my wounds.

I found the Princess Dorthy. She did not realize I was commisioned by the Queen, so upon approach I was knocked in the eye by her big right cannon. Damn, it hurt

Yo, Kumar...Hook me up with some courage juice before I get on my journey

I call my ship the shower of champions

The King and Queen of Nuts and Bolts had commissioned me to go forth and unite the Septure of little BoPeep with Princess Dorthey, Captain Sex Instructor, and George of the Jungle

Halloween Weekend

Last nights office party where I got to do a test run of man's 5th greatest engineering feat!

I'm a big fan of a beer in the shower.

Friday night:

A-game is coming to town!

5 Kegs at 1818 Obscene Halloween party!

Saturday:

BARCRAWL!

I don't like putting too much emphasis on a single night or a single party. It's the New Years eve syndrome. You have to realize there is a tomorrow and there are consequences to your actions. So here is to excess in fun and moderation in everything else..especially beer.

Like father like son

I saw a glimsp of my future last night. I was watching the last and final game four of the World Series (which I do not mind it was the White Sox, but that is a whole seperate post), I was drinking a budlight and constructing my halloween costume, which I believes ranks up there as number 9 of the greatest engineering achievment of man, right behind the Great Wall of China. I believe it was somewhere between 1am and 2am where I stopped working on my costume, took a sip of beer and realized I'm slowly becoming my Dad.

It wasn't so much that I was drinking beer or watching sports, it was the fact that I was so obsessed on finishing this masterpiece. My dad is a handyman. He likes to work with his hands. I once brought my bent up and broken glass frames to him. He took it, straightened it, used an industrial staple and some pliers and even after two years, I'm still wearing those glasses. In fact, I have them on.

I may have become a more extreme version of him, well maybe. What the hell was I doing up at 2am working on a Halloween Costume?! Have I really been out of school that long that my only sense of validation is this?! I have a feeling if there is not an intervention, I'll be one of those Dad's who will take part in soap box races with his kid. But the way things will go, is little three year-old Jimmy will become traumatized by the flames coming out of his exaughst and screeching tires of his soap-box version of a Mercdes Mavoc. Perhaps little Jimmy will be walking around during one Halloween in a fire breathing robot that can make great vodka martinis while doing the macarena.

For a period of about 5 years my dad was very obsessive at building a home theatre. He got a fifty inch TV, then he got the speakers, the reciever, the four head VCR and the DVD players. He made customized speaker holders, just so they could be in the right place. I think it was when he wanted to knock down a wall to make the visual experiance better, my mom stepped in and said, "you knock down that wall, you can sleep on the couch," Then he stopped.

One time I had to demostrate how a pulley worked for my sixth grade science class. He built me a whole model of a side of a house, a barn window, a pulley, little people and a mini-couch to demonstrate how the pulley can be used to move furniture. It was fantasctic, but how does a six grade kid who walks to school, carry a house 1/2 mile?! Very very slowly.

So you see, I'm a product of my upbringing.

good news

Just talked to Ravi. They got power, and I guess I would freak out my first time in 125 + mph winds as well.

last night

11:47pm Phone rings.

 

It's Ravi, one of the boys from Randolph who is teaching down in Miami. He called me a few nights ago five hours before Hurrican Wilma hit.

Dat: Hello?

Ravi: (distressed) Hey, it's Ravi.

 

(line goes out)

 

I call back

 

Dat: Hey

Ravi:Hey man.

Dat : How you holding up?

Ravi: It's crazy here. No electricity, no running water. I had to wait in line for four hours this morning for a five gallon tank of gas. There a curfew, man. Everything is soo dark.

Dat: Wow. That is crazy.

Ravi: Yeah, even..(line goes fuzzy)

Dat: Hey, I can't hear you.

 

Line cuts out.

 

12:30am Phone rings again.

 

Dat: Hey man

Ravi: Yeah, even t-mobile has...(line cuts out)

 

I text him, and tell him he should come and stay in DC for a while, until things get better.

 

He tries calling me back at 1am, and again at 1:30am. Both times the phone only rings once before it cuts out. I have never heard Ravi sound frantic. I think looting, I'm thinking starvation.  And here I was, in my heated room, confortable in my sheets falling asleep to Gill Scott.

 

I still haven't heard from him this morning.

Compassion

A human being is part of the whole, called by us "universe," limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest - a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a prison, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons close to us.

Our task must be to free ourselves from our prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all humanity and the whole of nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation and a foundation for inner security.

-- Albert Einstein

 

 

First impressions

The first time I saw her, I thought she was gorgeous. She had an easy way about her. I was going through a whole, let's not drink for a while phase. My birthday was coming up, so either I was detoxing to prove to myself I could go out and not drink, or to justify going buck-wild on my birthday. I like to think it was the former, but the later may have came around to say hi, as well.
I met her on St. Patricks day, a day poised around Irish car bombs, the color green, and more Irish car bombs. Here I was, in the middle of one of the bigger bars in DC, hanging out of my social scene for my roommate, who at the time was dating J. (sweet girl), sipping over priced diet coke. It wasn't my choice, but commitments are commitments.

"I'm A., nice to meet you," she said.
"Dat. Nice to meet you, too." (and I think you are beautiful)

She put a hand through her crazy blonde lion's mane, smiled and continued collecting money at the door. It was that smile that got me. I stood by that door for a while that night, not really hoping for much more. March madness had just begun. I had a good view.

"That's like Dat Nguyen from the cowboys, right?" she asked.
(she knows football!) "Yeah, My mom's middle name is Nguyen."
"Cool. I bet I could throw the football farther then you," she said.
"Is that right?"
"I have a cannon, you know."

She just smiles, and I laugh to myself. We later laugh about this together.

I commented on the music and she said it was too main stream for her taste.

We danced that night. In one of those awkward circles adopted from an 8th grade dance. She busted out Napoleon Dynamite moves. I laughed and thought, "she's a dork ... Like me."

I spent the rest of the night by that door, sipping diet coke and talking to her girl friends, who kept on talking, and then kept on talking. They invited me to their party that weekend. I already had plans to go to another St. Patrick's Day house party in Capital Hill, sober. Although, I had thought about going. I knew A. had a boy at the time, and I thought what a lucky guy.

It rained all day that St. Patrick's day. Winter was ending, and rain is what we needed for the thawing soil.

a burn

I was trying to readjust the flame in my candle tonight and I burned my index finger. I wanted to make it perfect. I wanted the candle flame to last longer. I also happen to crack the candle holder the tea candle was in. The heat got to the glass of the holder and it only took a touch to crack it. I don't know why, but I thought I could re-adjust the wick of the flame by picking up the hottest part of the glass candle holder and tilting it far enough so the wick would slide throug the hot wax into the middle of the glass. It worked, and I have a bit of a second degree burn. It will heal in time. I guess that is how relationships go.

Work

Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.
  - James M. Barrie

 

So while I sit here at my desk in my office, I'd rather be writing a novel, or a screen play. I'd rather struggle to find the right analogy to describe the promise and  evanescence in her green eyes. I'd rather be slowing down a moment with details about ballerina leaves, angel hairs on the nape of her neck, or the rare crispe spring air. I'd like to write about how everyday we went out on a date the sun was out, even if it was suppose to rain. I'd put down a conversation we had where we seemed to answer eachothers questions like only butter can answer toast. But here I am, proofreading the finer points of Severance pay plans, benefit agreements and mortgage license applications.

Scout

A good dog story to start the morning.

Teachers and lovers

Everyone I meet is a teacher. It is in the relationships we participate in, the dialogue we exchange and the moments we share that bring insights into who we are. We all derive from spirit and will return to spirit, and while here we act out in spirit.  My first serious relationship I think I learned love is not possession. We use the term 'my girlfriend' or 'my boyfriend,' so much that it can easily be confused with a sense of ownership.

 

I believe when I dated SP, it was love. It was young love with all the passion that entails. What changed is that we out grew each other. I left her for London and when I came back, she had changed and so had I.

 

Sometimes people in unhappy relationships will stay in that unhappy relationship because the thought that someone else can be with your lover is too much. We are then denying our spirit, denying our growth and the other person's growth as well.

 

It took time to realize that SP hadn't done anything to me. We changed and so our relationship had to change. I can't say I ever denied changed, but  I can say I was hurt by it. That was the lesson she taught me as well as many others.

 

 

 

 

A Memory - Haiku (i think)

Lavender incense,
Donavon Frankenreiter,
And you in my bed.

Lunch

I bring my lunch, tuna fish in tomato sauce with rice and beans today. I bring a can of diet coke. This isn't the life I imagined after graduating college. I never pictured myself wondering if I kept enough for the cable bill or if I should get rid of my cell phone for a pre-paid one. There are worse things.

What would I like? Salmon on a bed of asparagus with a slice of Banon goat cheese. How about some advocado's in my turkey sandwhich, Ms. Thank you.

Oh, I'd prefer the Grey Goose martini, extra olives.

I would use less Fabreeze and just take my shirts to the cleaners more.

I wouldn't wait until chicken breast were on-sale so much.
I'd have soy milk in my fridge and crush roasted almonds on my vanilla ice cream.

I never thought I would have to wait for a bus to get home from a night out in Adam's Morgan or wonder if a plane ticket home is too expensive for Christmas.

A bucket of mussels steamed in german beer!

I know I could be worse off.

20 somethings

I had some trouble sleeping. Not sure how I want to do my First Meeting Story. So I'm going to do this.

1. I get scared that I'm not breathing before I go to sleep so I take a deep breath to make sure I'm okay.
2. I'm afraid of being a bad son, brother, and friend.
3. I smile and wave at animals and kids more then I do to adults.
4. I have a ficcus tree, Ivy and a huge dollar tree in my office.
5. My parents are not married, but they've been together forever and still call each other during their lunch breaks...and possibly shower together STILL!
6. My mom works the night shift.
7. My dad does upholstery.
8. I feel like i would be happier with a job where I have to use my hands.
9. People comment on how nice my feet are.
10. I don't like sleeping alone so I have lots of pillows to make it seem like there is someone there.
11. Someday I want two big dogs.
12. Cooking helps me relax (while the Patriots were losing on Sunday, I calmed down by making Sunday dinner).
13. I've never cheated.
14. I'm always hungry.
15. I get antsy if I stay still too long and haven't worked out.
16. I have lucky bamboo, Ivy and someother plant in my bedroom.
17. I always have music on, even when I fall asleep. Also makes me feel like i'm not sleeping alone.
18. I act more confident around pretty girls because deep down, I'm really shy around them.
19. I'm fascinated by chaos, hurricans, storms, lightening, riots.
20. I have a craving for black berries right now.
21. For luck, I still think love is all you need.

Washington Post Horoscope

Someone at the Washington Post is definetly getting my horoscope right

 

ARIES (March 21-April 19). It's not that you're old, but you are in a rather mellow mood. With all the stress in your life lately, you look forward to being "chilled out." Dining in and watching a movie might be all the excitement you need right now.

The bar scene

I'm good at the bar scene. I can dance (sometimes). I can drink (that is for sure). Conversation comes easy and girls do smile. The smoke doesn't bother me too much. Getting a drink at a crowed bar doesn't phase me. So what is it that bothers me so much? It's trite. It's unimpressive. It's the white anthem music and the egos, the lack of interesting conversations. I leave and think to myself, there must be more to it. Now, I enjoy the birthday parties, the new job celebrations, the going away parties, but to go out for the sake of going out, I find that I am boring myself, even if the stories are good. But all the stories seem the same.

 

Did you see that guy get kicked out, She was totally hitting on me, You were totally sucking face, Do you believe how much we drank, How did we get home, the cab driver did this, I lost my...,

 

Anyway, that's my morning thought.

 

Washington Post horoscope

ARIES (March 21-April 19). You feel like the hometown hero who just moved to the big city -- a little daunted by how many "yous" are out there. Well, none of them are really you, are they? You have nothing to be intimidated about.

 

A part of me wonders if this is the real reason I'm moving home in February.

One night draft 1

It was her guys night out. She's a girl's guy. Confident, sexy, feminine, likes to talk trash, but very very sweet. My lady friends happen to be having a girl's night out. It's the fraternity life. When you date a sorority girl in college, you date the whole sorority (especially when the rest of your fraternity brothers do the same). They were out to celebrate a Texan's birthday, and I have learned those girls are partiers.

Guy's girl looked beautiful. I watched her get ready that night. Fifteen minutes, a change of clothes and a twist of her hair,and she came out looking like freshly baked bread. Wonder-ful (sorry for the bad word choice, but you have to admit, it's funny).

I had my mind on that night...meaning, I tried to keep everyone's name straight. I'm bad with names. It was good. I introduced guy's girls's friends to my friends who I was worried about. They can be intimidating. They are mostly southern girls who dress to the teeth. Their hair is straightned and nails are polished. They are fun and loud and when they walk into a bar, the guys all turn and look. The best part is that they know it too. I think it's my charm and personability that goes well with these ladies. I couldn't picture myself dating one of these girls. I know too much about them. I'd rather be the guy friend then the boyfriend.

Guy's girl was charming that night. She moved in and out of the packs making people smile and other blush. She knew exactly when to look over and in my eyes. She touched smalls of backs, talked closely to the ladies and still managed to entertain her guy friends. The sorority girls whispered into my ear that night, "she's awesome." I got messages the next morning, "she's so adorable."

She went to me that night and said she was sorry she wasn't as attentive to me as she usually would be. I laughed. I said, "we have pleanty of time, Ms." Those lips and those inquisitive eyes get me everytime.

And that was the last night I saw her

Beauty

I have this distinct memory as a little kid at the landry mat with my mom. We were still in East Boston and my sister wasn't born yet. I must have been four. I could have been three. But I remember seeing a woman there and thinking that she was beautiful. I starred and when she looked over and smiled, I remember smiling back and getting embarrased. I can't remember specifics, but I remember she had a nice smile. I think that is when it all started. My mom would then take me to the store next door where we would get square slices of hot pizza. That may have where my pizza mart love derived from.
What is beauty? Is it something we learn through our culture, our values and customs, or is it something universal? Some cultures like bigger woman, other cultures prefer smaller woman.
There was actual a study done on babies. The babies would be shown pictures of people and then with each picture, their reaction would be monitored. Some babies would cry at the sight of Rosanne Bar. And at the sight of Natalie Portman, they'd smile. The researchers discovered that there are actual common charecteristics that defined what the babies found attractive. That is symetry. The face had to be symetrical. Men tend to have a larger jawline. Woman had higher cheek bones. However, each baby varied in differant ways.
So maybe beauty is personal.

I like nice smiles. I find confidence sexy. I like someone who makes others around them feel comfortable. I like nice lips. I like it when they look in my eyes when they talk. I really just like nice smiles.

It's not a class war

Last night I watched the lastest ESPN reality TV series called "Bound For Glory." It's about a PA high school football team who use to have glory years and most recently have just plain sucked. So ESPN hired Dick Butkis, the legendary Bears coach, to coach these pansies and turn them into a championship team.

 

What first got me was how much I miss those days of putting on pads and going out there to lay someone out. It wasn't so much laying someone out, then the tough practices, the hustling, the competition to see who is stronger, not just physically, but mentally.

 

The second thing that got to me is how this group of kids are such pansies. They don't even practice all that hard. Here you are, at the center of the ESPN world at 10pm on Tuesdays, and you're moving like Fat Albert on Sundays. They have a beautiful football field. Our football field spilled onto the track field. It was possible to be in the end zone and on the track at the same time. They have a beautiful weight room and are allowed (more forced) to lift during study hours. We had a hole in the wall, in a dank basement lockerroom, right next to the men's urinals. And we were lucky to have teachers with free time to keep it open. They have twelve coaches!! We had four and only two of them knew what they were talking about. 

 

I think our high school football team would have made a better drama. Here are the charecters:

 

Serano - A RB/Nose tackle. puerto rican jew. He's short, fiesty, very big mouth but hard hitter.

Brit - CB/ Star tailback. Pretty boy with good moves and a slick attitude. Needs stronger legs.

Justin - A monster of a linebacker. Fast, 200+, 6'1". Big, lots of attitude, lovable and at the same time gets in a lot of trouble. Can be a baby.

Reggie - Biggest and fastest guy on the team. Angry, strong fullback. Quiet.

Bobby - Big and fast quarterback. Definetly a big head. big talker. Sometimes a head case and gets in a lot of trouble.

Dat - Good kid. LB. Hardest working mofo. Smart, lots of heart, quiet.

Visbares- only kid to have a moustache since 8th grade. Big, naturally strong. The gets called white trash a lot. gets in trouble, but good heart. Offesive and Defensive line.

 

It wasn't that these kids in "Bound For Glory," were bad people. They were regular high school kids caught up in High school drama. What got to me is how oblivious they were to how lucky they were. It's not a class war for me, it's a war against the oblivious. Inform, inform, inform.

 

Once Reggie, Justin, Brit and I were all invited to go on a radio interview after we all were named league all-stars one week. The interview was in Hingham and I was the only one with the car. I would also pickup and drop off these guys everyday during the summer for practice and the weight room, and drop them off everyday after practice. We all loaded into my 1983 nissian 200sx. My car would sink down low. I had to open the driver door by going to the passanger door first. My radio would only get AM and forget about a cassett deck. So we all got in my car and did the hour drive down to Hingham together and sat around a table with the local sports radio host, Tom. He asked us the general questions. How does it feel? what do you expect from the rest of the season? etc. Tom then asked me, "What makes it great?" I told him. It's the people. It's the effort the coaches put into us, the effort everyone puts in to win games. It's how lucky we were to have so much support, from our coaches, our town, our families, our school and from each other.

 

Those are the things that made playing football great.

 

new word

gewgaw: a trinket; a bauble.

 

I can think of a few people at work I can call gewgaws.

Along these tracks

Mr. Jazz man

"Farragut North," says the wizard behind the grey metal door.
"Exit left." His voice is very reassuring, like a caring grandfather.

The masses congregate in the dim fluorescent light by the doors. I move slowly, but with intention. There is an older lady in red, really thin. She moves slow too, but in quick little steps. A younger attractive brunette is in the way. She doesn't quite know where to go, but is considerate enough to pretend to get out of the way. I smile and say, "excuse me." as the doors open.

We cattle out of our respective cars into the huge dark barren tunnel of Farragut North's platform. Everything is a different shade of grey and brown. Black suites, clicking heels and beige all whirl in and around the moving escalators. We move in narrowly defined paths like blood vessels bringing life to a deadening vein.

We get to the second set of escalators, the ones that lead us up and out of the cave, and I hear jazz. One man is playing the saxophone on the outside. I stop a second and look up. He's doing a Davis. I think Kind of Blue. I think slow smoke and polished black shoes. Two rows of escalators take people up in the grey wet sky. I make my way onto one and just let it ride. Each second the light gets lighter and the music gets stronger. There he is. A skinny black man in a disheveled blue, green and yellow sweater playing his saxophone. His eyes are closed and his cheeks are puffed out. It's city jazz. It's the jazz you'd expect to hear on a cloudy, grey day like this. It's sad and beautiful. Thank you, Mr. Jazz man.

Spoiled me

I spoiled myself yesterday. I went to Whole Foods and hit up their salad bar.

 

It's been a rainy, harsh long week. The softball team I played for lost both games this week. TPW's happy hour had me passed out on the couch again. The Red Sox went out without a fight on Friday night. They looked like I felt, tired and swept. For all this I loaded my plate with European lettuce and spinach.

 

I woke up Saturday and made my way to the gym through the rain. Half hour on the stair climber, push ups, sit ups, dips and pull ups. It was a quick and intense little workout. For this, I loaded up with fresh onions, carrots, pepper stuffed olives (soo good) and marinated mushrooms.

 

I made my way to McFadden's for the Flip Cup tournament of the century. Out of 24 randomly compiled teams, four people on each team, My team,The Triple 6, took it all! We must have started at 3pm with an hour of guzzling beer before hand. My new nick-name is Cash Money Clutch Quach. The first game, we won with a swoop and grab chug one flipper on me.  For this, I added sunflower seeds to my salad. Then some how we beat another team, and then another. By the time we realized what was going on, we had made it to the playoffs (add more olives). We beat the all girl team who were really good, and then another team. When the finals came, there was no way we were losing. The other team was scared. We rallied together. Sally gave a pep talk. Even Sally's husband gave a pep talk. I may have yelled out, "one game is all we need," (oh, how the football cpt. in me will never die).  We played 12 games. It was the first to 7. There were recalls and do-overs, last minute one flips. Sally one flipped it; Zack one flipped it; Tim one flipped it. When Steve-O looked over to me and said, "you make this flip, you get a trophy, " I chugged and flipped in one swift motion. The cup landed like a baby in it's cradle, without a rattle. For this, I added peppered chicken.

 

Sunday I woke up early to play football. We're in a congressional league. It is intense. We had some great touchdowns and held them only to one touchdown. Mind you, drinking heavily the day before did not make running up and down a field too appealing, but that is half the fun of Sunday morning leagues.  Their last drive, they tried to hustle it up. This is where you learn who is in better shape, you or the guy in front of you. I rushed, each time at full speed. The blocker would knock me down, but I got back up, kept running, kept moving, kept containing. The QB never quiet got a decent pass off. He looked like McNabb last year in the superbowl. The game ended 14-6, us. For this, I got a side pasta salad, with chunks of this delicious white cheddar cheese, and added Thai vinnergerret to my main salad. And a bottle of poland spring.

 

So I get off work at 1pm today!! A nice surpise. Who wants to go see an early movie??

 

From an old Blog

I discovered this while going through an old blog I had way back when blogging was very unhip.

 

Tuesday, January 14, 2003

So today was my second day of class with a British Professor and that seems to be the best way to describe my professor. Very British. The fifty-year old woman discussed the term Wanker to start off the class. Here is how it went. " I hope you all had no trouble getting here today. Traffic is horrible in London. I'm sure there must of been a lot of 'wanker' being tossed around. Are you all familiar with the term wanker?" The class of sixteen American students nod in a slightly hesitant manner. "Well, It means to Masturbate. Not now as much. It has become more of a term for someone who is useless, a noun or a verb. Anyhow, I'm sure you will be hearing it a lot. I remember when I was first visiting the United States as a girl I heard the term 'motherfucker' (in a very proper English tone). I counldn't comprehend the idea of one fucking one's mother. But like wanker I grew to understand the connotation of calling someone a motherfucker. It is very much like calling someone a wanker.. or even a bloody wanker. Let that create an image in your minds." And so the lesson continued. The next class she tore apart a girl for saying she believed in unconditional love.

Pretty Damn Accurate Quiz

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved. You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change. You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please. Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

Goals

Some goals for the next few months:

1. Write a Screen Play

2. Learn how to play tennis (is that hard?)

3. Drink less (my head hurts)

4. Run more than once a week

5. Choose two to do each month : See movie, show, concert, play, museam, gallery

6. Eat at a restaurant that I've wanted to try out at least once a month

 

Cowboy it up

It must be a guy thing to get teary eyed and emotional over a baseball article.

 

DAN SHAUGHNESSY

Trail blazers

They've been down this road before

By Dan Shaughnessy, Globe Columnist  |  October 7, 2005

Last year, a hopeless deficit meant nothing. The Red Sox fell behind New York, 3-0, losing Game 3, 19-8, then simply spit into the wind of the Yankee machine and asked, ''Is that all you got?"

Everyone knew exactly what to do. John Henry went to his computer and began calculations while Tom Werner had a shot of Glenlivet in Box L-1. Theo Epstein downed vodka tonics in an apartment over the Baseball Tavern and fell asleep still wearing his sport coat. Michelle Damon and Shonda Schilling wrestled over some lucky scarves, Terry Francona gulped Metamucil, and Kevin Millar poured shots of Jack Daniel's while telling everyone, ''Don't let the Sox win this next game, because if we do that we got Schilling and then we got Pedro and then anything can happen in a Game 7."

Two years ago, it was the same drill when the Sox fell behind the Oakland A's, two games to none, in their first-round, best-of-five series. The Red Sox returned to Boston, swept at Fenway, then returned to Oakland and rallied around Derek Lowe and Manny Ramirez after Damian Jackson and Johnny Damon cracked heads in shallow center field.

''We did it in '99, too," Jason Varitek reminded reporters late Wednesday night in Chicago.

Yes, they did. Varitek and Trot Nixon and Tim Wakefield were there in Cleveland when the Jacobs Field clock stood still as Pedro Martinez came out of the bullpen to stop the bleeding and lead the Red Sox, down 2-0 in the series, to a dramatic comeback win over the Tribe.

Good times.

But can they do it again? Is it reasonable to think the 2005 Sox -- depleted by injuries, defections, and two demoralizing losses on the South Side of Chicago -- can perform yet another miracle comeback? Or are these the final hours of these kings and vagabonds who brought so much joy to our region these last three years?

''It's not a pattern you want to fall into," acknowledged Epstein. ''But it's the personality of this club not to do things easily. It's too cliche to say we've done it before, but obviously we have. But we can't rely on it because history doesn't win games."

Odd that a team with a history of heartbreak would suddenly talk about the past in an effort to inspire hope. But that's what this group has done. The 2004 Red Sox changed history. They changed the way we think about them. That's why Tony Graffanino will get a standing ovation when he is introduced this afternoon. Sox fans recognize a stand-up guy when they see one and Graffanino's a gamer who has been one of Boston's best players down the stretch.

''Obviously, we're not in the playoffs without Tony Graffanino," said Epstein.

The White Sox put an unusual spin on their own history when they scored five in the star-crossed fifth to win Game 2. The ChiSox have only one comparable postseason victory and it came in the 1919 World Series. That's right. The 1919 Black Sox came back to beat the Cincinnati Reds, 5-4, in 10 innings after trailing, 4-0, in the fifth inning of Game 6. And they were trying to lose.

It's clear the Red Sox put themselves in a bad position for this series by going until the final day of the regular season to clinch a playoff spot. That put Matt Young, er, Clement in Game 1 and the Red Sox have been scrambling since. Meanwhile, Wakefield was rocked in his final start against the Yankees and the Nation prays that the magic hasn't abandoned Mr. Knuckles at a most inopportune moment. As for Schilling, he pitched a serviceable game against the Yankees last Sunday, but Derek Jeter told one of his media friends (read: an ex-player) that Schilling had nothing. Sox executives winced at Schill's 91-mile-per-hour heater with no movement.

If the Sox lose today, they will be eliminated from the postseason without Schilling throwing a single pitch. And you can be sure there'll be some third-guessers suddenly wondering why management didn't cave and give Pedro the money last winter.

Oh, and remind us again why Edgar Renteria is better than Orlando Cabrera? Sure, Edgar's got three hits in the series, but why was he swinging at the first pitch for the final out Wednesday and wasn't that Cabrera winning Game 2 for the Angels with a big hit against the Yankees?

''We've got to find a way to win one game, then go from there," Varitek reminded everyone after Game 2. ''We'll be home and we'll have our 10th man there for us."

Indeed, Red Sox Nation pulled a rare no-show in Chicago. It has been a long time since the Red Sox have heard what it sounds like to play in another team's ballpark.

Damon added, ''I'm not going to panic and I don't think anybody in this clubhouse is going to panic. Now our backs are against the wall. Unfortunately, I think some of these guys like it that way."

If the Sox lose today, it could be Damon's last game with the Red Sox. Same goes for Bill Mueller, Millar, and maybe even Manny. Any day now might be last call for the Idiots. Then again, that's what we thought last year.

FAT TUESDAY

I got a phone call last night at 12am

Dat: hmm.. Hello?
Varitek: Hey, Dat It's Jason Varitek. Tony needs to talk to you.
Dat: Oh, Hey, Tek. Yeah. I want to talk to Tony too. Tough game tonight. Nice hit in the 6th, man.

Varitek: Yeah, tough game. Hold on a sec.

(pause. In the back ground..tek: Tony...Yo, Tony!)

Tony: Hey, Dat..Listen, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for that error that...(interrrupt).
Dat: WTF? routine double playball...(pause) nevermind. It could have happened to anyone.
Tony: I know, but we had the game.
Dat: Don't worry about it. Tell Well's to quit leaving his curve ball hanging like that. My grandma could have hit that.
Tony: ha, yeah.
Dat: You've been clutch man. That was a good hit and great run in the top of the 9th.
Tony: Thanks, man.
Dat: And don't get so down on yourself. Boston can be very harsh, but we'll rewards our heros graciously.
Tony: I really appreciate that, man. So how is everything going for you?
Dat: You know. The same old. Been writing a lot, reading a lot. Ever read Vanity Fair?
Tony: No, but i saw the movie...horrible.
Dat: yeah, so is the book. I'm half way into it and I don't think I can read any more.
Tony: Balls.
Dat: ah, shit man. You hit one out friday night and your name will be cleared.
Tony: Thanks, man. Listen Tek, wants to talk to you.
Dat: yeah, put him on.
Varitek: You think we should start Clement game five if we have to?
Dat: You let him start, but have Arroyo ready to go in. What is that disgrace doing?
Varitek: playing the guitar.
Dat: No, the other guy, Clement.
Varitek: Oh, he's baking a cake. Helps him relax.
Dat: ah, damn. Just make sure he has his head right next time he's holding that ball.
Varitek: Will do, man. So how are the ladies treating you?
Dat: Like a nice guy.
Varitek: Just rock out.
Dat: Rock out?
Varitek: Rock the F out.
Dat: Werd. You better Rock out against them White Sox!
Varitek: Cowboy up.
Dat:Yeah, Cowboy it up. Later, Tek.
Varitek: One.

This Weekend's Dilemma!!

FLIP CUP TOURNAMENT   or   MID-TOWN BAR CRAWL

 

I am completely torn. Originally my plan this weekend was to do some yoga, go to some museams, see the Warhol exhibit and perhaps go out to dinner with A-game cause she was suppose to come to DC, but due to unforseen circumstances she had to cancel. So now I am presented with a dilemma every 23 year-old man must face at least once in his life....go to a flip cup tournament and claim the trophy I should rightfully own or go to a bar crawl, one in which I have attened each and every year for the past three years of my life?

 

There is quiet a possibility, if the planets are aligned right and if mars is visibile in the twighlight of dusk, that I could end up going to both events. Obviously going to both could be a bad idea. I love bad ideas.

 

And I almost forgot, tomorrow is a Law Firm happy hour. Be prepared for some good stories from that.

 

Last years Flip Cup tournament had me playing for The Wild Cards. The girls on our team were outstanding, but the other dude was a dud. Couldn't flip for shit. We took it as far as we could until the wheels gave out in the second round of the playoffs. It ended in heroics, meaning we made it back to SS just intime for Rendog to puke in the middle of East-West Hwy and to pass out all before the setting sun.

 

The day before the tournament was the Bar Crawl so there was no choice to make.  Not quiet sure what ensued at that barcrawl, but it may have involved face licking and dinner food.

Friday Night Lights

Coach Gary Gaines: Being perfect is not about that scoreboard out there. It's not about winning. It's about you and your relationship with yourself, your family and your friends. Being perfect is about being able to look your friends in the eye and know that you didnt let them down because you told them the truth. And that truth is you did everything you could. There wasnt one more thing you could've done. Can you live in that moment as best you can, with clear eyes, and love in your heart, with joy in your heart? If you can do that gentleman - you're perfect!

 

I love this movie. It's life on a high school football team. The only time I've seen athletes cry is on the football field. I'll never forget the feeling I had going into the MIddleboro game Junior year. Justin and I were made captains as juniors and that night was homecoming. The moon was orange and the air had that crisp New England feel to it. It smelt like burnt leaves and hot dogs. We came onto that field pumped up. All that testosterone and energy just came bursting out. The crowd is chanting your name and everything just makes sense. Beat Middleboro.

 

At this point in the season we hadn't lost a game yet and I think Middleboro had lost one. They weren't suppose to be that good, but they had a good quarterback.

 

We were the Blue Devils. We were a family. I worked out, played, partied, practiced and went to school with these 30 guys seven days a week for four months - four days of practice, game day, go out saturday and watch films sunday. We are pushed to the limit at practice, hit hard during camp, and they made sure we threw up during double session in the 100 degree heat and humidity of August. They made us work too hard to lose.

 

Our offense drove down the field and scored. Our team was small, I had to start three ways - playing special teams, defense and offense. I remember one distinct play where I rushed in, smelled out the screen and as the runner caught the ball along the sideline, I grabbed his jersey for and took him down for a five yard loss. I remember running down on kickoff, knocking out a blocker and hitting the ball carrier with Justin, so hard the ball carrier yelped. I remember the glare of the lights off our varsity blue jerseys and white helmets when we huddled together and held hands. The football team across the line of scrimmage from us were not people. They were evil. They were monsters who wanted to take our pride away from us. We made sure Middleboro knew where they were that night.  We were unstoppable that night.

 

 

Tuesday night

I play with an average softball team this fall. It means some people are fantastic and everyone else just doesn't quiet have it. I have to admit, I'm still learning the game, but whatever, I have a great time.

Work is getting to me. I don't mind the work, I do mind the attitude. Very few of these attorney's are socially there. Let's forget about all of that.

After a long day of work, finding out a friend change plans for this weekend, and another loss on the softball field, I went out for drink with the team. Mind you, everyone on this team is 30 +. We have women talking about the sacrafices they have made for their career to justify not having a family, kids, a husband, etc. I respect that. It becomes personal choice, but to justify that with, I have a job I like and a masters, I really wonder how happy you are. The men as well. The most successful of the group, J, looked younger, had a great job, but spent most of the time talking on the phone with some girl he was dating and got so drunk, he started throwin knives around...including one towards our waitress (who was obviously uncomfortbale with it all). Now J is the top manger of the properties in the aread, including the property of the restuarant we were drinking at so the owner was really nice, and bought us Cabo shot, etc. and did not say shit to J. Is that what I want?

I found out another guy who was married to his wife for 19 years is currently going through a divorce. ( he if in his 60s). I found out one chick of 40 is having trouble meeting people on e-harmony. Another chick wants to let off a guy easily by telling him that she is a flirt and he couldn't handle her. They are all cool people, I just didn't get it. They all had stories of horrible early marriages and bad career decisions.

My mood only got worse especially with the red sox lost (14-2). and more worse when I got on the metro. It was packed at 10pm and people were just down right pushy. Show a little courtesy, and don't push me cause I'll push back. And those backpacks, just take them off please, so I don't have to rip them off. { well all that was my mood}

a couple walk on with an infant of a small crying baby girl. I roll my eyes thinking this is it. I am going to die. But the baby looked up at me with her big blue eyes and stopped crying. I waved, she smiled and laughed. I waved again and she waved back. She ducked her head around to catch my face, I told her mom and dad, "she's a beautful, baby." The dad said, "thank you," but you could tell he knew and was proud. That little baby made my day... even after one like this.

A smile

What does a smile cost? Nothing, but it's good for you. So do it often.

 

Other note, work, more or less bites today.

 

 

On Seeing The 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning

This has to be one of my favorite stories. Haruku Marakami also wrote 'Kafka on The Shore,' which I have yet to read.
On Seeing The 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning

To A Stranger

To A Stranger
By Walt Whitman

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me,
Were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard, breast, hands,
in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

weekend recap

effulgence - The State of being bright and radiant.

 

Weekend recap -

 

I'm a bit worn today. Some reason, I thought staying up till 1am writing would be good for me. Well, It was. I really can't ignore writing. Like a carpenter, writers take the raw materials of life, cut it, nail it together and build something.

 

Friday night. Rennie and I took our hall door off it's hingers, set it up outside on out patio and had a one on one beer pong match. He kicked my ass, but I blame the Sox game being on. We capped the night with cigars and scotch and a Red Sox victory.

 

Saturday - Spent the day sawing through pipes, smashing bathtubs, tiles and smashing down plaster in Arlyn's house with Craig. Talk about a sense of accomplishment. I also had to stop by the office to finish up a memo. After passing out on the couch watching football I woke up to find the Yankees had clinched the division title. Where the hell was the one game playoff?! Whatever, Red Sox are going to the playoffs anyway!!

 

The Texas Trio threw an awesome party in Adam's Morgan. It has to be one of the top five apartment parties I have attended. Number one still is Alex Friedman's going away party. Somewhere in that mess of Vodka worms, boob battles and free flowing kegs I found happiness. I would Argue number two is My senior year painting party at the good old 16th and R. You mix booze, sorority girls, frat boys and underagers with acrylic paint and the free will to paint whatever they wanted onto my white bedroom walls and you get massive colorful scenes of hand prints and love making. Mintwood PL - home of the Texas Trio takes the cake for number 3. It wasn't fratastic (thank god for the sake of the nice apt), but it was close towards the end of the night there. It was a beautiful night, with beautiful efflugent people who just wanted to have fun. I made new friends, saw old friends, and we all made stories. It made me a little sad. I know as tired as I feel of that scene, I also know I'll miss it when I leave DC. I also wish I remembered more of the end of that night. It was all a blur of flowers, whiskey, balcony, disco and pizza.

 

Sunday - i woke up still fully dressed from the night before and hung the hell over! 8:30am got to shower, got to get dressed, got to play football downtown. I did it. They had me covering the speedster and we shut them down and won 26-0. I felt the whiskey come up a few times. By the second half my hangover was gone and playing football on a beautiful sunny day by the water wasn't so bad at all. Overall, great weekend.

The Red Line (draft 1)

Scene I: Silver Spring metro station. She is an attractive brunette, very dark hair, dark complexion and very sharp blue eyes. It is Saturday morning and she is dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. Train arrives heading into the city and He runs up the escalator and just manages to get into the same car as She. He’s carry a football and a gym bag.

He sees her, looks away, but then stops, turns and goes to sit next to her.

He: How was your night?

She: (startled and blushing) It was okay. (laughs) and how was your night?

He: I think I’m still a little drunk.

She: (smiles) Who are you?

He: I am your metro soulmate. I see you everyday. You work somewhere down by Metro Center. You go to a dance class on Sunday mornings. You pack your lunch, but I think you go out to lunch on Fridays.

She: I do.

He: I know this because you never bring anything with you to work on Friday.

She: What else?

He: I think you live alone. Maybe you have a cat. And you went out last night.

She: I do have a cat. You went out last night too. I saw you and your roommate?

He: Yep, my roommate.

She: I see you a lot.

He: oh yeah?

She: Yes. You like to do the crossword puzzle on the train. You have casual Fridays and you are in a football and softball league.

He: How come we have never talked?

She: Because we live in the North East. We’re private people with private lives. It’s intrusive.

He: Lonely. (Pause) sorry, am I being intrusive?

She: Yes, but I like it.

Pause

She: Going to play football?

He: Yep. I love it. Guess you hafta to wake up this early Sunday morning.

She: I’m going to a dance class.

He: What kind of dance?

She: Hip Hop

He: Nelly?

She: Nelly, Busta, Mariah, …hip hop

He: (big smile) That’s great.

She: What?

He: What do you mean, ‘what?’

She: You were going to say something.

He: I was just thinking.

She: and??

He: It just surprises me. I pictured you doing jazz, latin…even ballet or something. I just didn’t expect Hip Hop.

She: Well, I like it.

He: It’s the notions and stories we make up in our heads to pass the time. Like that old guy sitting up there. I picture him going to church downtown. Maybe going to meet friends for a coffee in Dupont afterwards.

She: I think he is going to brunch. He looks like a brunch type guy.

He: What does a brunch type guy look like?

She: I don’t know. Hungry.

He: (laughs) I didn’t think you would be so talkative either.

She: (laughs) You make a lot of assumptions.

He: I do? Yeah, I do.

She: I assumed you were uninteresting.

He: Why is that?

She: You play in sport leagues…so I assumed asshole jock. You wear a lot of blue stripped shirts, carry a shoulder bag and listen to you MP3 player like every other yuppie in DC; and I assume you go out and get wasted in Adam’s Morgan and go to Pizza Mart afterwards.

He: I do. That’s pathetic. I’m a walking cliché.

She: Now, I think you are interesting.

He: What made you changed your mind?

She: This thing we’re doing.

He: Talking?

She: Yes, it’s interesting.

He: I like to think of it as my social experiment.

She: So I’m just some experiment?

He: I mean…

She: (laughs) I’m just playing.

He: Don’t you think it’s ridiculous sometimes. We have seen each other every day for about half-an-hour or more a day for the past year and have never talked.

She: Like we’re robots on automatic.

He: Like ants marching along.

(Pause)

She: This is my stop

He: I know

She (laughs): I’ll see you Monday morning, Metro soul mate.

She gets off at Gallery Place