Starbucks and Barnes and Noble

The Runtyun went to a Christmas party and they had a swap of presents. Well, we all know how that works and to make a long story short, she ended up with a gift card to Starbucks. Yey!

Sunday, we decided to go to Barnes and Noble to redeem my book card and fulfill her caffeine addiction.

She must have had a premonition, because she would not get into line until I went with her. It turns out the cafe that sells Starbucks at Barnes and Noble, is not a Starbucks at all!

They have the Starbucks colors and designs, but they don't except gift cards!

I stopped going to Barnes and Noble a while ago due to their refusal to honor a gift card my parents had. I found their attitude lousy and unresponsive to my needs as a customer. And I stopped going to that coffee shop because I don't like the way they pay their Baristas and how they push out the little local coffee shops. However for Christmas, one of my presents was a Gift card for them and of course the Runtyun's gift card helped to sway me to break my personal boycott . It all seemed so magical the way the two gifts worked together...

…The Black Magick of marketing…

Well, B&M (may I say BM here?) did not have any of the things I wanted for writing or photography and the Runtyun did not get her coffee. The only flaw to my boycott is that the money has already been spent, so I guess we'll just have to bite the bullet. But, I think I'll spend my card online and get more!

OLC

Endorphins and brain malfunctions

Back in the bad-old-daze, I looked for chemical stimulation to find contentment. Now, because I am an evolved person I don't look there any more. (yeah right) 

I am an aspiring writer, yeah I know I am old for that whole "aspiring" thing, but I am young at heart :-). (read, 53 and still don't know what the hell I want to do: When one cannot do anything else---write. Who said that, any one know?) I am always looking for inspiration for the next, most interesting thing to think and write about.

As I was sitting in a private place, flushing the toilet, my brain began to wander back to when I was seeking stimulation from man-manipulated chemicals to find the high that we should only get when earned. (could I have been a little more ironic when I thought about flushing my life away with a little white rock while flushing a shit down the toilet?)

Back in the day, way back before chemists could create elixirs to give us artificial happiness, people were looking for ways to make themselves feel better about life  in general. We are still trying to find personal enlightenment and happiness. Now we have chemicals to find our own personal and immediate satisfaction.

Most right thinking people know that the road down artificial well-being is fraught with turmoil and frustration and the end game really sucks. There will always be those who think they have found their happiness through artificial stimulation, yet for me, and a few others out there, chemicals were not the way, only a means to learn a hard lesson.

Yes I am and will always be an addict, yet I resist the urge to scratch that itch. You know, the one that says, "Light it up and feel the rush of saticfaction and contentment this poison can give." Every time I feel the urge to do the dirty deed I remind myself of the disaster at the end of the burnt out match just waiting to engulf me like the smoke coming from a piece of hollow glass stuffed with a metal filter and white death.

The truth is, my life is little better than those dark daze. Actually, I made better money then and lived a more or less financially secure life. I still struggle on a daily basis to make it to the next paycheck, I still have few friends. I still ride a motorcycle that needs work, though it does give me a sense of wellbeing when I ride.

Our society says that I am a better person now that I am drug free (though I still have a beer now and then). I guess I am, even though I am older and my body does not work like it should any more. I tell myself a touch of artificial joy will help that discontent smooth out. I keep asking me, "Is it worth it?"

The truth is I don't know. The most important other truth is, I will never find out.

olc

A few thoughts swimming around my brain

Two very interesting things happened to me while I was working yesterday . They made me think and look a little deeper into my being than I have in a while.

I listen to a radio talk show pretty much every day. I have gotten to “know” the personalities of the host and her Mooks. I enjoy what they talk about and sometimes feel superior to them because of their immature ways. Yet as a listener, I have become accustomed to their hair-brained ways and even like them for what they have to say. The hostess, Stephanie Miller is fun and interesting and a true character. She flirts with me and all of her other listeners and creates a smile from deep down inside my darkend soul.

As I said, she is consistent in her comedy and her views on life, some might say are, “Predictable”. Yet this is a good thing. In our world of uncertainty, it is good to know I can count on something predictable. Every once in a while though, she will come out and show her bare heart. Sometimes she is touched by something that taps into her raw emotions and releases the power of her very being.

Yesterday (5-20-14) was one of those shows.

It seems someone very close to her died unexpectedly and she shared her feelings in a very profound way.

For some reason lately I have been feeling rather emotional, maybe just lonely. At any rate, lately my emotions have been rather raw. Anger has been quick to raise its ugly head, while sadness and regret have been fighting their way through the cracks in my armor. It seems that happiness and satisfaction have been on vacation. So when Ms. Miller let her sadness fill her very being and overflow into her show, I felt it coming through the speakers and take over.

The truth is, I had nothing in the game, but the feelings of lose and even failure gushed through my radio all the way into my heart. I felt her lose more profoundly than I have felt anything in a very long time. Her raw heart-rending eulogy of her friend unleashed feelings in me that I have suppressed for time forgotten. To hear her recalling times they had together and then express her regret brought similar feelings to the surface of my not-so-well-balanced life.

I did not know the man Ms. Miller lost, but I could feel her pain. It was raw and unbridled. Her pain brought mine to the surface where I could see it and hold it and maybe, somehow overcome it. I feel refreshed.

A little while later—

I was driving down a rural highway when I saw a squirrel squirming in front of me. It was obviously critically injured, yet able to move. It crawled on its side and flopped around in the middle of the road. It was going to die, of this I am sure. I had a moment to think. Should I try to avoid it, just keep on going, or end its pain? I swerved and aimed for its head. It was in pain and it would die soon, either by car or its injuries. I felt it go.

I dealt the final blow to a living creature. Was it within my purview as a human being to make this decision? After all, I am not a God who has the authority to make life and death decisions. Yet I saw a creature in distress and wanted to help in some way. I do not regret ending the life of that little creature, I just wish it was not necessary 

I don’t know if these two events had any influence in my dreams that night, yet I had a pretty profound one. I dreamt of an old relationship. It was a strange one, the dream that is. Most of my dreams are stories reflecting some undetermined issue. Yet this one was a rehash of my former lover and our good times together. After some reminiscing of past glories together, scenes of love and tenderness flowed through my mind’s eye…Snuggling and hugs, and even kisses were flashed in this surreal dream.

Then the simple kiss of farewell and the understanding that the past was the past and could not be dredged up. I woke up with that thought and tried to go back to sleep and find that place of happiness. What happened in the dream though, was the understanding that I could never go back, but that it is OK to think about those good times and remember a smile.

Interesting thoughts here, what do you think?

olc

14-4-5 Riding Again

It has been awhile, way too long really, but the Grinner is rolling again! To those who do not have the addiction of riding                       you may never know the high of fixing and then riding. To those who do, you understand what I’m talking about.

The Grinner rides again.

olc

I wonder, do you know?

The other day some one on my FaceBook news feed posted a video of a guy being questioned about his carrying a gun in the open.

Here is the link: http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=jfdEbe7e9GE

I made a comment about how I thought the guy was being a kinda ass. Let me state that the guy had every Constitutional right to do what he was doing, I thought he was just being an ass for doing it and the way he was doing it.

Some one commented on my comment. He used all of the standard Right wing and Teaparty rhetoric. Our conversation roamed around a bunch of different hot button gun issues. But never seemed to really deal with the subject of my original post.

It seems that whenever I made a good strong and irrefutable argument, the topic bounced someplace else. I have seen this tactic many times and though it is frustrating, it seems to be an acceptable way to control a conversation. I have to admit, I may have used it once or twice. Having said that, I think the some use it to divert away from a weak, or hypocritical    argument.

Our conversation finally drifted to the Travon Martin, Zimmerman shooting in Florida. I had hoped that we could get some understanding on that subject. I am such am optimist!

It turns out that I was totally misinformed on the whole thing. There were details that did not make it into the mainstream media. Important things.

Things like the boy was being disrespectful and antagonistic toward Mr. Zimmerman. Being the guy I am,  I wanted to know more of the things that I had missed out on. It turns out that there were eye witnesses, despite what I had heard stating that no one had stepped up, and they say the whole thing, according to my new FB friend, was about the boy disrespecting the man with the gun.

It turns out that the boy was being disrespectful to the man, my FB friend reminded me again and again. It also turns out, according to my new FB friend, that Travon Martin had gone home and then went out looking for Mr. Zimmerman and that is when the two had their final confrontation that resulted in the shooting of a 17 year old man. I have not heard this before and don't know the truth here.

It turns out that, Martin was being DISRESPECTFUL, and used the sidewalk as deadly weapon. He was not doing as he was told. I think that my FB friend was trying to tell me that it was Travon Martin's fault that he got shot, so I asked my FB friend that very question, "Are you saying that it was the victims fault he got shot to death?"

My new relationship with my new FB friend did not last very long. He never did answered my question and I think he blocked me.

Now we all know that I may not be the swiftest boat on the lake and sometimes I miss the really important things, so maybe I missed the hint this guy was sending me. My excuse is that I was working and distracted by minor things like cars and people crossing the street while I was making deliveries.

It finally came to me, he was sending me a code word! I have another fault, one that has gotten me in trouble a few times and one that I really don't want to change: I just don't understand how any one can think that because some one has different color skin, they can be told what to do and how to act.

I think that my lost FB friend was trying to say that the boy needed to be punished because he was being disrespectful. I asked him if he should be shot and die because he was being disrespectful? He directed the conversation someplace else, but it went back to the whole respect thing, and how Zimmerman was not wrong to do anything that he did, including shooting a boy for being disrespectful. I reminded him that the police had told Zimmerman to back off and stay in the car.

And that is when I asked the fateful question, "Was it the victims fault he got shot." And got blocked.

This would be the place in this commentary, that I should editorialize and make my statement about the whole idiocy of that killing of a 17 year old boy by a wannabe cop and over-achieving neighborhood watchman. But I want to hear what you have to say about it first.

olc

A visit to the danger zone

The other day I had a visit from a friend. Now this person and I go back a ways. I was infatuated with some work my friend did which I studied for a college assignment. I was lucky enough to get an interview with this person and a friendship of sorts was ensued.

We have a rather contentious relationship, we will go for long periods of time without seeing each other. During one point in our relationship I felt pushed away, used like a piece of trash to be discarded. Then again I may have done the same.

Whenever I get a visit from my friend, I am happy and excited. My friend is an exciting person and always brightens my day. This time we were gonna talk about a story I was working on, after all my friend is a published author and the closest thing I have to a muse.

My door burst open and we were on. We talked and hugged, got caught up and settled into reading my work. After reading it, I was told to email the story, and she would go further into it. The moonshine was out and some flowed. Something else was brought out and partaken.

I have been wondering about that stuff and how I could deal with it. Well, after a bit my brain was not working so well. It was at that moment my friend said, "If you were a real man you'd drink that," nodding to the sip or more of beverage in front of me. "I've finished 4 shots and you have not finished with yours."

"I was a little confounded by that statement, and my head was spinning from it and other things roaming around my brain. I was not sure what to say, so I picked up my glass, swirled it, sniffed it and drank half what was there looking my friend in the eye all the while. I put the drink down...and left it there.

We talked awhile, but never really got to talking about my story or how to make it better. Finally it was time for my friend to go. My friend had many things to do during the day and I wanted to continue with my writing. A little something-something was left for me to use later, though I kinda knew I would not.

It bothered me that my manhood would be challenged by my friend. My past with all its abuses was well known. We have talked about my addictions, yet when I knew that I was at a point where I had to stop, my very being was challenged. I wanted to drink that stuff and I wanted to do the other, but I knew a cliff was in front of me and I could not fall off. There would be no bottom until the final Crash.

Does this make me less than a man? Do I suffer from wimpitis because I know a bad thing when I find it? If that is the case, than I am a wimp. I walked out side after my friend left and I was reminded of all the other times I had done the very same thing, only I had said yes back then. I remembered the empty feeling of wanting more. I remembered the way the world looked in the middle of the afternoon when I was fucked-up with various poisons in my blood. I remembered the need to get more into my system---to make me feel better---?

I felt all of these feelings right at that moment. I knew it was all false, even my feelings of inadequacy were not real, at least partly. I felt empty and knew that I could fill that empty space with chemicals and feel happy for a moment. I went back into the house and threw the shit into the fire and closed that door.

olc

Another user Dream

I guess these things happen in clusters.

I have this friend whom I’ll call Leggs. Maybe I’ll go into that at another time, in another post. Leggs has this unnatural ability to find the negative thought, action or circumstance into a beautiful thing. Many people have this skill with little effort. The truly wonderful thing about Leggs, is that it is a truly organic thing. In other words she does not look to find a positive from a negative, there is no dark side in her realm.

The other night I must have been infected with her outlook, because, though I may have had another user dream, it was, oddly enough, an enlightening one!

For the longest time I was addicted to cooking. I found my identity from it, I made my living from it and mostly loved to create food that made others happy. The truth is, there was no high greater than creating and presenting a meal to a stranger and seeing the smile my creation produced.

That outlet of creativity ended about the time my full blown chemical addiction took over.

In the dream, I was hired as the personal chef to some very important person, I am not sure who it was, in dream world these things can be either be important or not.

In my dream, my first task as chef was to make the “Picture soup.” Well, being the new guy, I did not want to ask a silly question, so I looked high and low for the recipe for Picture soup. I searched recipe books in the house. I found an old box of written and clipped recipes. I tried to get to know the other staff and illicit knowledge from them. I spoke with the markets I was to deal with without coming out and asking what to do. I looked around the house to see if there was a special picture with the family dining with soup. All to no avail.

I even went to my father, the most humble yet best cook I knew, to see if he had any knowledge of what a Picture soup was. There was this guy I worked with many years before, who was a font of experience and cooking skill. He was the type of guy who could impart knowledge without even trying. One time I asked him for a simple pasta recipe and in less than five minutes he gave me five easy yet elegant ones, yet he was unable to help me with this task.

The time was coming for service and I still had no idea what to do. In desperation, I called the staff together and told them of my trouble. The all looked at each other and smiled. Some one, remember this is a dream, pulled out a magazine, opened it to a page with a picture of a soup on it, “The Picture Soup. All you had to do was ask.”

As I pulled the magazine from her hands, I woke up. And as with most user dreams I was still a little disoriented, yet I had an even stranger feeling. It was of satisfaction. It was a much better feeling than the feeling I had the other night, yet I still don’t know what the “Picture soup” was.

olc

User Dreams

The other night I had a dream. It was such a powerful dream that it woke me up from a deep sleep, sweating and nervous. As with most dreams the details faded quickly, but I attempted to remember what I could. (Note to self: keep a pad of paper to help with remembering this kind of thing.) The first part of it is foggy. It had something to do with the-mother-of-my-daughter and the road to hell we both shared.

In my dream, it is called a User Dream, I was with the Runtyun's mother and she was trying to get some drugs and I think we must have gotten some because we pulled our sticks out and, I think, get everything ready to use them. I seem to remember finally lighting the rock and hearing the crackle of melting... This is where I usually wake feeling the disorientation of it all. 

This time though, there was a pause in the dream. How do I describe it? If you are watching TV and the program ends, but the commercial is not queued up there is a black spot in time when you know something will be coming up and waiting is the only thing to do.

After the pause in my dream, everything changed, as they do in dreams. I was much older and clean for a long time, but I had finally given into the constant desire to succumb. Somehow, I had attained a used stem with lots of residue and I was trying to find more of the shit to use. In the dream, my greatest desire was to scrape that pipe and smoke the residue.

As I was trying to score, the stem seemed to grow and grow, from the size of a thin pencil it grew, until it would not fit in my pocket. While it was growing, I still could not score any dope. Finally it got so large I had to carry it with two hands and still I could not get anything to put in it. In the dream, the stem got so large I had to throw it over my shoulder like a soldier does with a rifle. I was desperate to fill that pipe!

Finally, and I don't know how or why, I just got fed up with the whole thing. I could not get anything to put into the stem, so I could not get high. The pipe was getting so big I could not carry it any more. I finally found a trash can and broke the glass pipe into a million pieces and...woke up.

In most cases during these dreams I will wake up and feel only the residual effects of that horrible poison. This time though, it was a full blown mind bending hit that was attacking me. I was disoriented, slightly dizzy and euphoric. And I wanted more.

Those in recovery, and are honest with themselves, will know that we will always have temptation eating away at our resolve. I went over the mental steps I have developed to help me through moments of crisis.

First I thought about the time and energy I have invested in getting better. Then thoughts of my Runtyun flowed and how much she depends on me to show a better life. My parents and the investment they made in me to get out of the terrible rut I was in. Then lastly, a Shakespeare quote came to mind. Actually, I recite it to myself a lot. It has become a kind of mantra when I have to make moral/value decisions. “To thine own self be true.”

I woke from that dream and struggled with temptation and I WON!

I have not had any of these user dreams for a long time. I have been living drug free for many years, almost seven and a half, I think. I have heard that the dreams seem to fade away after time. For the most part, it is true, when I first stopped using, the dreams were so intense that I almost gave into the urge. Yet after time they faded in both frequency and intensity. They still however, creep into my unconscience sleep once in awhile. The other night was the most intense and most realistic I have had in years.  My life has not changed in any way significant way, I still struggle along. I still have my Runtyun to give me smiles even though she is becoming a young adult and challenges every thing.

I do not know what triggered my dream. I have thought about the things that used to trouble me and have beaten those triggers, or at least we have come to an uneasy truce. 

I guess the best take away is that I have not restarted any bad habits and actually feel stronger for beating, once again, the strong temptation to do stupid.

Olc

Another example of: Its SO Frustrating: Time and Inspiration

I have little time to write and develop my “voice.” Yet I seem to have lot's of time to myself when I am doing the delivery thing. One might think that I could develop stories and other things to write. I do, actually. Yet when I get home, those well formed thoughts and complete story lines are gone, like the fuel I burned all day long.

Take tonight for example, The Runtyun is at her friends and I have the time to spent on writing this story that I was working on before the computer smashed-up. Truth is, during the past few days I have sat down here trying to get the thread going again---and made no progress. Something seems to always get in the way.

Well, the good news is I am here doing something instead of just sitting watching T.V. My biggest excuse for not writing when the kid is not here goes kinda like... “She is not here and now I can watch what I want to.” That combined with, “It was a shit day and I deserve to relax for a bit,”seem to drain my creative processes.

Its SO Frustrating!!!

I need to learn how to channel my writing and find a way to use the good ideas I get during the day and put them here.

olc

Lament

I have had delusions of grandeur for the last few years. Truth is I really don’t want to work for someone else, I want to write for a living. I think I have interesting ideas and I have deluded myself into thinking that others may be interested in them.

Seems I am wrong in that assumption.

When I post on any of my blogs; A Daddy Grows Up: A Chronicle of Our Journey, Rants and Brain Echoes, My Rantings (a journal of thoughts), or even just update my status on Facebook, I get a smattering of views and almost no comments. Much less any follows.

I spend a good amount of time writing these posts and most of the them are pertinent to something going on outside of this electronic box. I always want to have feed back from my readers and most of the time ask for it in the post. Yet I get very little. I want feed back on the content and style, yet all I get is encouragement with no editorial rebuttal.

I’ll keep on trudging along writing here and working on my fictional writing too, but it sure would be nice to get some followers and comments, so please read and let me know what you think. I even want to know if you, the reader, will never look at a posting of mine again. Just let me know and maybe an indication on better writing, or more interesting topics, anything that could help me in rise to journalistic sufficiency. 

Thanks, olc 

I wanna use my video recordings to protect myself from official abuses!

O.K., a legal question or two, for those out there that know more than me. I have some one in mind, he has helped me in the past, but any one who has an idea please chime in!

When being detained at a roadside checkpoint, do I have the right to record video of the event?

Also, lately I have been seeing signs at police stations saying that recording of any sort are not permitted. Is this permitted, or do I have a Constitutional right here?

olc

New post on a good blog

I just posted on my blog A Daddy Grows up. http://adaddygrowsup.blogspot.com/  Have a look and let me know what you think.

Lost and Wondering

Yesterday I wanted to get lost and find a new place or two. I may have done just that.

There is this place called The Light Center on the way from Black Mountain to Chimney Rock on NC Hwy. 9. I have heard about it and wondered what it was all about. When I first saw the signs, years ago, I thought it was a place to buy lamps. O silly me! Then a friend let me know a little more about it. He was a county sheriff and found some reason to go up there and see what it was all about.

So I looked the place up on google and learned enough about it to want to see for myself. That was a year ago and I never seemed to have an opportunity to go there. I was even told by some one, whom I am enthralled with, that I was not in a place to experience its potential. Today was the day though.

As usual The Grinner started its low rumbling with a roar. I felt the power the engine exudes. It vibrated. The head light bounced. The Grinner shivered in anticipation. 

While I let it stand and warm. I got my helmet and stuff together. After a few minutes I cut the choke and listened to the beast fall back to sleep. The idle is too slow, so I played with it for a minute. 

Finally it was time to go. The part of the Blue Ridge Parkway I was going through is nicely wooded having bunch of paths one can follow to pleasant little walks, but for the most part, it is used as a way to get from here-to-there.

It is always a pleasure to ride it though, it many curves both smooth and predictable. I finally made it to Charlotte Highway and got gas. After that I was looking for Old Fort Road. This road is fun to ride, with lots of twists and turns, fields to ponder over and cars to keep one slow enough to enjoy it all.

My plan for this ride was to find the Light Center and see what they have to offer and then go on to get lost, not really lost but explore an unknown road which I have wanted to ride ( I heard there was a nice swimming hole perfect for a daughter and her dad).

                                       

It turns out this place is interesting. The acreage it uses has a tranquil feel with a slight breeze taking some of the heat out of the air. Some places in our world seem to have an aura exuding calm and this is one. I have experienced another called Dogtown in Gloucester, Ma. However, that is another tale.

I was met by a very pleasant lady, who was not intimidated by the bike, who handed me an information packet and offered me a chakra cleansing light show of some kind.

I looked at their library/shop of books and literature and saw a plentitude of material on alternative Christian worshipping. They also had some books on chakras. An interesting combination, I thought.

I walked a path to a little pond and heard frogs croaking and birds singing. It was refreshing and I began to feel some tension unwind, though my leg was not too happy to be walking so far.

I resolved to go back and take the time to try their chakra cleansing sensory room soon. I think I’ll go once and see how it feels, then go back after doing a little cogitating on chakras to see if I can perceive any difference. (I like when I use big words)

                                        

Drag pipes, like the ones on The Grinner, tend to be rather loud, but if I am careful I can make the rumble a little less obtrusive. I rolled out of there looking for my road to get lost on. Unfortunately, I fell behind a caravan of hay toting pick-ups. They were going really slowly and on this part of the road it’s a challenge passing anything. Now of course my friends on sport bikes may have another opinion, and during another ride I may have the same one. I bided my time and found a short straight to get around those working guys.

I settled into my pace looking for the turn out to the road and second goal of the day. While riding and contemplating the my experience wondering about the Light Center. I did not feel any profound enlightenment, merely curiosity. I will go back there, they have a number of workshops and other gathering events and the chakra cleansing room interests me a little. Now the scratch has been itched though, and there are some residual curiosities.

Finally my mystery road came up to me. It was closed so I could not get lost today. O well. 

I rode on to Lake Lure, had some lunch. I reached out to a friend, but she was working. Finally it was time for me to go home.

The ride home was typical, cars going too slow, yet giving me a chance to enjoy the world around me, so it was not so bad. 

                                        

                                                  

I am not sure what I expected from this ride, nothing profound happened though. I am simply a little more curious about a new place to explore. Of course, any time I get to riding is good. 

olc

It’s SO frustrating---Life

Back in the day, when life really was not so good, I tried to be a peddler. You know some one who sold trinkets to fools on the street. They told us it was not about the products we were selling(junk, btw), but the deal we were offering. While others, more experienced and successful, went by the idea that one sold one’s self. This train of thinking made the assertion that the person making the deal was the “all important factor, not the trinket, nor the the “deal.” One sold one self. Those who could make it happen on that level did very well. Me, not so much.

At this point in my life, I still have the same dilemma. I cannot seem to sell myself very well.

It’s SO frustrating

There is this person, very important to my family, who seems to be scared of me, or at the very least very leery of my motivations. I am not sure what I did to create this antagonism, but it is there and very real.

So now it is the time for me to sell my self. I just don’t know how to assert my self and be recognized as me and not the person she thinks I am. 

Or maybe it just goes back to the fact that people just do not like me.

Another example of: Its SO Frustrating.

It’s SO frustrating---Pandora

Back when Pandora, the free music streaming site, started, it was all free and no commercials. As I remember it was a site designed to track the listening habits of users. Then they discovered that maybe they could make some cash if they used some paste-on advertising. That was ok, if a little alarming. 

It’s SO frustrating

Now you cannot go twenty minutes without having a radio commercial disrupt listening!

P.S. How do you go from Pink Floyd - Marooned - The Division Bell to Lynyrd Skynyrd-Free bird. When Lynard Skynyrd is not even a part of the playlist?!

olc

Another example of: It’s SO Frustrating---my first issue with US Cellular

     Let me start by saying I think that US Cellular works for me. I have, at great expense, tried a number of different carriers and found US Cellular to be the most cost effective of the lot. In most cases I have found customer service to be better than tolerable. With the exception of having to wait a long time on the phone to get almost any human attention, or waiting an eternity for any help with the reps in the store, all of my problems have been taken care of to my satisfaction. 

Until this week. The phone has been working fine until recently. It is just acting wonky, so I wanted to see about doing something about it. I went to the company store, where I have done all of my business, to have them take a look and tell me what it is I am doing wrong.

I got to the shop on Wednesday at around 1:30 and the tech had just gone on break. My luck is true. I was told that he usually takes his break at no specific time, just when he can, between customers. I have to admit I appreciated that he worked for his customers with such dedication. It was just dumb luck that my break and his worked the way it did.

Today, I just went to the store, there were cars outside and each of the reps was talking to someone, yet the repair station was locked up. I was told that the repair shop is closed on Saturdays, but if I wanted to I could go the the other location and have my phone serviced there.

My reply was that I was here, not there. I left before I vented any more supercilious comments.

Like most people my life is complicated. Unlike most people, I do not know when I will be some place at at a certain time. The work I do is varied on a daily basis, in other words each day is a different and the schedule changes, sometimes on an hourly basis. I pay a lot of money for the services that US Cellular gives me. Is it too much to ask for them to have a tech on duty when I walk in to their walk-in service?

olc

Why O Why

My little girl was three and so cute and good and pure. Her mother was on the street doing what she had to to get what she needed. I was trying to peddle cheap trinkets on the street, and failing miserably. I had a monkey on my back and no place to unload it. The world was closing in on me and I could not find a way out, no escape routes, no doors to smash down and escape through, nothing.

I was letting my child down. I could not provide for her or even me. My bike was running on empty and the road ahead was bleak. I did not even fit into the cracked up world I was living in.

I found a place for her, but I was not welcome...more nails in my coffin.

I was riding a little later trying to get things straight. It was dusk. There was this long curve around the USAF base in the town we lived in and I was riding it, not sure what to do about anything. It had been a long time since my last hit and everything was just getting too much to deal with. I drifted into the oncoming lane. There was a car coming at me.

I looked at the grill, then my eyes wondered up to the drivers. The thoughts that ran through my addled brain were desperate and suicidal. I should just end it all, drop a gear and wheelie into the grill of that asshole driving at me.

I was still looking into his eyes, they were getting bigger and bigger. I saw my beautiful daughter in them. All of a sudden, he changed into her. His face, now hers. I pulled the bike into my own lane. The guy just stared at me as we passed each other, his eyes filled with fear, anger and questions. His eyes were the same color as my little girls. I was so numb that I only kept riding on.

Riding, a little while later, I was so low in depression that the unknown of death seemed better than the torture that I was going through. I was not scared of living or even of dying. I just did not want to go through the pain of living any more.

She was so innocent, my little girl, so trusting. I was going out and doing stupid stuff. Her eyes would light up when I would get her. Love flowed from her smile and I was betraying it. What good was I as a father, as a man? I was sure she would be better off without me.

How did I keep going? Why should I breath air? The thought of her eyes smiling at me was part of it. Not knowing what would happen to my little girl, did indeed scare me into living.

I made it through that self destructive chapter in my life. I found strength in myself. I still feel bouts of depression, but at least now I have a better defined purpose. I still ride, but the desire to paint the hood of a car with my blood has never been so powerful, and I still have that beautiful smile that brightens even my darkest days.

olc

Requiem for Brian

When I started going through the rituals I do before writing, my iTunes list popped up. Some song came up automatically, I think it was Dream On, by Aerosmith. That song always sends me into an introverted mood. The next was Sad Lisa, by Cat Stevens.

This song brought me back to Brian.

I have written a few of these letters of memorial for important people in my life---kinda wish I didn’t feel the need. It seems like the only profound emotions I have are lose and sorrow.

Working at Doc’s brought out some of my less noble traits. My issues were not the fault of Doc’s, I have always had them. My addictions and narcissism would have come through at some point with or without that place. There were, and still are I presume, some very special people there. People who enabled me to keep ahold of the core person I am. 

Brian was one.

I cannot say that he was a close friend, though I wish I could. He was loyal and kind and even powerful in his own way. He could always come back with a smart-ass remark and a smile while he did it. How could anyone be mad at him? When talking to him, one knew that he was all about you. That guy got more women under his arm than most straight guys! (NOT FAIR!) Yet through all his joviality, there was strength and wisdom.

When he came out to me, I was going through some trivial shit with the mother of my daughter, another in a long list. Brian listened to my rants and meaningless drivel without any judgement. I don’t even remember what he said, or what the problem was, yet I remember feeling better about my life. Then he said I needed to hear what he had to say. I was able to step above my self serving morass and really listen to him.

Truth is, I don’t really remember the details of the conversation, just the feelings. Honesty was the strongest among them. Pain too. After work that night, we went to the Chattahoochee River and talked for hours. We just sat there and talked.

Working at Doc’s and being gay, must have been difficult, way beyond my understanding. Yet he felt safe enough to tell me. I wonder if I was one of the first guys to know. I’ll never know. I have never talked about this, even after it was common knowledge; he asked that of me.

During my worst times, when some one I needed to trust was betraying it, thus destroying the silly dream world I was trying to build, Brian was there as a friend, a confidant, yes even as a shoulder to lean on. He gave me permission, if you will, to stop being an idiot.

Now iTunes has queued Meatloaf’s Heaven Can Wait. No it can’t. Heaven, or whatever, has taken a good man. Though I have not been in touch with him for a very long time, I always knew if I needed to, I could always reach out to him. Now I cannot. My world has been profoundly shaken. I know that I will always be able to reach out/in to memories and feel him, but he is gone forever and always. My world has been profoundly shaken.

Sunday, two weeks before Easter

        We got to the Cathedral early. (I have always been early...to everything.) Yet, those who were supposed to chaperone the event were not there, go figure. So we waited, and I waited for Ashley. I had two layers of waiting going on: the event at The Runtyun’s church and the anticipated ride with Ashley.

Sometimes I wonder what all these people think about me, I don’t reach out to them for friendship, they don’t reach out to me either. We nod at each other, and even say, “Hi.” Yet I have little to say to them. I wonder if they think I think... Oh, I don’t know what. They are all nice people, I just can’t identify with them, sometimes I wish I could. We come from different worlds, I can’t know theirs, and they may never know my…path to this point.

Ashely finally showed up, but I could not leave until I knew what was going on with the kids. So we talked. I have never been able to talk with people, but Ashley is a star and carried the conversation well. Finally the Kilted Man arrived and we settled the details and timing of events.

Ashley and me were off. Marshall was our destination. She said she just wanted to ride, to me it meant a ride with no destination, a ride for the purpose of freedom and exhilaration. A ride to feel alive...the thrill of anticipation, fear and thrill of two wheels on pavement sliding into the next turn.

The Grinner finally rumbled to life; it wanted to go, I could feel her excitement and anticipation. She was controlled and predictable as the gears slide up and down, yet I still felt the need to reign her in. Stop lights and signs got in the way of our journey, yet we made it through them with little difficulty.

Finally the road ahead was open. I know this road, it leads to Marshall, a beautiful little place; coffee shops, little stores and a weekend produce market. The road, Riverside Rd, follows the French Broad River north from Asheville, ( It suits my outlook because it goes against the norm, yet still goes to it’s own place.), and like the river, the road has unpredictable turns and shifts. Every time I ride this road, it sends a new direction that makes me focus on the road, the moment. The issues of the moment are clear: am I going to make this curve, is that cop waiting for us?

Time really is not on my mind. Does my pillion know how to follow the road, will I make it through the next turn OK, does she know how to lean?... These things are there, yet they do not take up my thinking time. My thinking goes around many things. Of course the technical aspects; breaking, counter steering, the lean with Ashley, hitting the breaks and feeling her react. All this goes into how I attack this road. By the way, Ashley, may not have much experience with riding, but she has an intrinsic intuition. She is a joy to ride with, I almost do not know she is there, except when we slow down really hard.

We talked over the rumble of the engine, yelled really. Guns and the politics behind them was one of our conversations. She has a few and shoots them. I told her I was thinking about having a firearm, but did not feel I should until I could commit to better training.

We talked about her bf, they are committed and I could feel her dedication to him. She told me of fishing trips and other fun they have together. She could not see my smile.

The road got twisty and a few cars, cages, got in the way, yet we kept on going. Yellow lines were not a problem to my Detroit steel. It found it’s way around those slow cages. The river on the left showed its teeth. The rocks and wild terrain on the left were ragged, yet we glided through them, sliding like an otter down rapids.

We made it to our destination, but the coffeehouse was closed, so we explored an unknown road and found our way back to the river.

I saw we were running a little late so I had my excuse to run this road and see just how sticky the new tires were. There is this one curve that for some reason I never get through easily. On the left side is a rock cliff blocking my view. The road seems to dive away into the river right at the apex and the turn seems to get tighter at odd places.

We rode hard into the curves, and spun out of them. The road was open and I let my Grinner have her lead. That bike is so steady, yet when the turning is happening, it is so nimble. Ashely was perfect behind me, she even reminded me about the speed trap ahead. 

I have said it many times, when riding,  I think of nothing but the road ahead, but I can tell deep inside my shallow brain, the wheels are churning away. Sometimes I will think about something, a story I am working, something with The Runtyun, or maybe work. (We try to avoid that one as much as we can!) Other times I go slower and look at the world around, the rapids on the river, clouds in the sky, a squirrel sitting on an overhanging branch twitching it’s tail.

This run however, was all about the road ahead. We may not have set any records, but I am sure at some places the pavement with smoking after we passed. We made it back to the church on time. I revved the engine to let The Runtyun know I was back. She came over as Ashely and I unwound ourselves from the bike. We talked a minute and made nebulous plans for sometime soon then hugged and said goodbye.

The Runtyun had fun with her friends and I got to ride. We both enjoyed ourselves on a glorious day at the end of winter.

olc