It's 6:20 a.m.

And I hear a motorcycle in the distance.........................................
I stepped outside to have a cigarette at 6:20 in the morning, expecting to hear nothing more than kittie's purring as she eats her food out on the frigid front porch. But I heard the motorcycle in the distance. I can only imagine the other times I've heard the motorcycles. I would lay in bed, sleepless, at my parents' house a few years ago. I had to work early the next morning, but neither my mental state, nor my sleep schedule would let me rest. Every Friday night, I would hear the motorcycles trekking down Broadway street. A fun night at the bar, and a drunken, two wheeled drive home. Up to that point I was always worried. "I'm never going to wake up in time for work" I would think to myself. Little did I know that my McDonald's life was just a tickler, a feather in the world of my work life... Three periods equals "continued". Boy are those three periods perfectly posed.
So I stand, leaning on the outside wall of this magnificent, tiny home, the house where I now live. Upon hearing the echoes of the 10 degree motorcycle ride, the first person I can think of is my own second cousin. Victor. Victor once worked as a lumberjack out in the forest, and once upon a time, a large branch fell on top of Victor's head. From that point on, Victor suffered from random headaches, and regular/random memory loss. Once when I was at the grocery store with my mom, we ran into Victor. She had to remind him of who she was and of course, he suddenly remembered, and she went on to tell a joke about the branch that fell on his head. He responded with laughter. The impaired have a default reaction. The impaired want to be treated as if they have no impairment, so a joke about said impairment has no adverse psychological effect on the person. If anything, it has a positive effect. I was young at the time, but shared an understanding between Victor and my mother, as was the case in most situations. I play pool at the Olde Town Tavern almost every Sunday, but during Hastings Summerfest, I've been known to play on weekdays. One such weekday, I ran into Victor, wearing his leather, motorcycle parked outside, talking on the payphone. I didn't approach him, knowing there was know way in hell he would know who I was. My friend made a joke about him, his "mullet" his "Pantera fan" getup, his barfly ways. But I respected this man more than I respected the friend who was making these comments. Afterall, he may act like it, but a branch never fell on his head.
I heard the motorcycle somewhere out in the rural abyss, and hoped upon all things that it was Victor. I hope he's on his way to some warm bed, to be shared with some beautiful, understanding woman. I wish this upon him more than I wish it upon myself, afterall, a branch never fell on my head...But maybe one should.

A selection from my huge novel

from: NOTSUR DNUORA SELCRIC PT. IV

...not to mention, the spotlight and the heat radiating from hearth's edge was making the dome extremely uncomfortable. I put out my cigar in the dog's dish and continued to aimlessly shuffle about the showroom. The band had started playing of a horrible dissonance and it was no longer possible to carry on a conversation with any of the members. Groups of 2nd, no, more likely 1st class Chamber Masters were sitting in small circles on the floor, making the trek more difficult than I had originally planned. I desperately looked for a clear spot where I could finally stake my claim, this was also made nearly impossible by the management's strict no-leaning policy...

Online Dating in Ruston, Louisiana! HERE!

Burn On Sweet Fire

That's the title of one of the many romance novels, sitting atop one of the many piles of romance novels in the lunchroom at work. The cover of course, is a copy of a racy oil painting depicting a partially shirtless long-haired male clutching an open mouthed petite woman wearing a lacy old-timey dress. The peculiar and confusing thing about trashy romance novels is that the ending of the book is almost always given away on the cover. There is no point in reading one of these books. There is probably no point in writing these books either, but that is beside the point (If there even is a point here). My point is, piles upon piles of trashy romance novels can only mean one thing; someone at work is obviously very lonely. Somebody at work obviously doesn't have the unconscious ability to get themselves out of a rut, and probably hasn't for the past 30 years judging by the age and quantity of the books. Today happened to be the day that I unconsciously enabled my ability to unconsciously change myself, whilst driving home from work. Here's how it happened!

I'm an asshole. At least I have been lately. I'm also a really nice guy most of the time and I find myself jumping between these two phases about 6 times per year. I don't know what triggers the asshole phases. It's probably just a mechanism in defense of some wrongdoing, specific or not, that offended me just before the phase set in, or just a way to get out of a lull in action or "depressed" period. I put quotes around "depressed" to convey sarcasm. It's usually more boredom than depression. Either way, I get myself into these phases, and rarely notice the change. But as time goes by, my gut, like the innocent bystanders, starts to feel the effects of my own alter-ego. I was driving home from work earlier tonight and happened upon an illuminated church sign, you know, the kind with a clever message on the front. The one-liners seem to be just as important as the church service itself. If its not meant as an advertisement for the service, it's meant as a promotion of the church's message and is aimed the kind of person that drives more than they worship God. I am the latter.
This week's message:

Forbidden fruit causes many jams

If it weren't for the mood in my car created by the song that was playing, I probably would have thought something like "how can they never run out of those...Do they have books filled with clever church sign ideas"? But the song played on, and I started thinking about the message, and how It intertwined with one line of the song and how the two lines could be applied to my life right now.
Instead, I thought "I'm such an asshole!". The "forbidden fruit" had been eaten, and I am indeed in a little "jam".
On I drove, and on I thought.
Lately, people from my past have been casually contacting me, and I've been forced to sort through them in order to not make the same mistakes over again. There's a reason that I consider them "people from my past". The song is "fooled with the wrong guy" by Beulah and lyrics seem to fit my circumstances in an eerily literal fashion. (Although, the song sounds great under any circumstances).

The recent contacts served as the beginning of my phase shifting, the crafty church sign served as the realization of my current status, and the dark lyrics and overwhelming calm of the song that played in the car at the same time helped me realize that It was time for another change. The romance novel merely Served as a catchy title to this thread. Maybe sitting in the drivethru at McDonalds on the way home reminded me of a more simple time in my life, namely the summer after senior year when I still worked at McDonalds, practically had no job, had lots of friends who got along with eachother, many aquaintances, and all the time in the world. I could also get along with very little socialization skills. If only I could have what those church sign keepers have.
All in all, tonight's drive served as the denouement to my latest phase. I eventually got home, and being the nice guy that I am, fed the rest of my double cheeseburger to the cat. So far so good.

A few more are now available.

These pictures are from the Rockit King show I attended earlier this month.

pictures by me

me shooting. skyler waiting

Division Ave.

State & Jefferson

Evans Tempcon Hose Dept.




things have been up with lots

UPDATE 2005

My last post was about the Northern Lights. I think I was going through some transcendent phase back then, becoming more of star player on Team Josiah's Mind. Then I moved out here to the country, to the back 40, wild cats chill on the porch (where there happens to be a couch). I've stopped loitering because of this place, I'm not constantly in search of the unattainable good time. Here, the good time is easily attainable and doesnt have to be searched for. Hey, I dont watch tv anymore.

So far, in order of personal acceptance, this blog has mostly been about :
Card Playing
Writing in this blog
My current place of residence (at the time of the particular post)

So far I am the most proud of my blog because:
I dont talk about romance (possibly because it doesnt exist)
I dont provoke anyone (except you, bitch)
I rarely post, even after a small amount of critical acclaim

The Killiteenz are back from Hiatus. We're writing songs again. If you dont know who the killiteenz are, you probably think I'm being serious right now. If you just read the word "Killiteenz" and thought I was being serious, you're probably reading this in CIT class.
But seriously, the killiteenz actually exist, and there will be links someday... If you're confused right now, just be patient and you'll eventually understand.

Questions? Comments? they feed my ego....... please throw me your intellectual scraps.