Last week all I wanted to listen to was metal. I played a lot of Slayer, Motorhead, Anthrax, Metallica, Megadeth, whatever I was in the mood for as long as it was loud and fast. Today I've been feeling like the Blues a lot. I'm not down, which I usually am when I'm in the mood for it, I just haven't listened to it a lot. I put some Leadbelly on and it was just what I needed. This is a good city for it but I've always been more for the Delta Blues than Chicago Blues.

After the Civil War many freed slaves, who had developed what would become the Blues while singing call and response hymns working in the fields, migrated to the North. During the early part of the Twentieth Century, as the Northern and midwestern states needed workers for their factories and mills, many blacks were given a better chance at life than they had in the Jim Crow South.
New Orleans and the Mississippi area was where the Blues first originated, with Robert Johnson and Leadbelly, among others. As the migration went North, it spread to Memphis, where W.C. Handy wrote "Memphis Blues" and Memphis Minnie became well known. It traveled up to St. Louis, before stopping in the Great Lakes States. Chicago eventually formed its own version of the Blues, relying on electrical guitar and harmonica to differentiate itself from its predecessors. Chicago Blues was more elaborate, professional and more produced though not any less authentic. It told of the hardships of urban poverty rather than the pain of sharecropping.
Chicago introduced such musicians as Buddy Guy, Muddy Waters, Son Seals, J.T. Lenoir, Otis Spann and Howlin' Wolf (who became well known in Memphis as well).
I've always leaned towards Delta Blues, especially John Lee Hooker and Robert Johnson but living here I've been more and more in the mood to go the Chicago route.

Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker


Muddy Waters and Son Seals

One thing I've noticed about this city, it's a great mix of Memphis and Boston. It has less of the bad things both have and more of the good things.
Like Memphis it has good food and a great character without all the racial problems.
Like Boston it has good jobs and it's easy to get around. In terms of residents it's a very young city while Memphis is old.
It has more to do, more shows, more people, more things to see and though it doesn't have as much influence on history on Boston does, it has a more macabre background though Memphis comes close.
It's not as cheap as Memphis but it's much cheaper than Boston. Not as uncomfortably humid like Memphis but colder than Boston. Apparently it's more corrupt than Memphis, which is pretty corrupt.


Memphis


Boston


Chicago

Writing has slowed down. I foresaw this when I started my new job. My interest hasn't gone, in fact, if I'm not working I'm writing at work- little notes I stuff in my back pocket to throw across my desk unordered the moment I set foot in my room. I've been working on a couple short stories; one of which I completely forgot but is on my notes. I remember thinking it was a great idea and better than the first short story I was working on so let's hope I find it and finish it.

I don't dread writing, I dread putting my notes in order. Of course no one could do it for me (if I wanted them to) because they're all written really small and numbered in a way only I can read. It would be a good idea to get some short stories out and send them in so at least I get some people's attention before I thrust a book on them. Then I can release a book of short stories I've already written.

They're in some order now though I am still missing some. I've begun adding to my book.

When I first moved here one of the first things I did was buy some pens and paper to write down a list of all I lost, get the numbers for lawyers, take notes, etc. Since I had nothing else to do I started writing and since I wasn't in the mindset to make anything up I started writing about my life. I was going to write memoirs but I just needed to write. I lost the pad for weeks and came upon it a little while ago. I was going to write some of it here but looking it over, I'd rather not.

I spent the day shopping for a birthday gift for C. I have an idea of what she wants but I think it's a better idea that I wait to let her come and pick it out. It's something that is very specific and I need to make sure she gets what she wants. I also got some stuff from Merz Apothecary in Lincoln Square. She shops there a lot on her own.

Meanwhile I ended up getting a ton of dvds to replace the ones I lost. I'll never get a library of them like I had before but I want to get back my favorite ones and some that I watch a lot. Of my favorites, today I picked up Spinal Tap, the Warriors and Shaun of the Dead. I also got Big Fish, the Big Lebowski, Three Kings, Firefox, Ali and the remake of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I've been on a Tim Burton binge so I had to get Big Fish. I just finished watching Sleepy Hollow, another new dvd. It's good to have a job.

The last part of me that I'm trying to change that I haven't done anything with is my hair. I've never liked it. When it's well kept it's boring and it gets messed up too easily. When it's long, which it usually is, it's unmanageable so I went and got a haircut to get it cut real short and the barber fucked it up. He made it real short on the sides with long bangs and thick on top. Frustrated, I talked to my roommate and he offered to cut it real short. Now it's real short. The last time I had hair this short was when I was born. My scar is visible though it doesn't look that bad. Really, I'm almost bald. I'm considering taking off what little hair I have left.

Two things I noticed because of this haircut;

-I have a really nicely shaped head. If I shaved it all off it wouldn't look that bad.
-I have more hair than I thought. I actually lost very little over the years. I just need to find a better way to style it.

Not the most exciting entry but what can you do? It's better than milling around pining for someone I shouldn't or feeling depressed.

I can feel it happening again. Now that I'm working I tend to vary my eating schedule a bit. I wake up a lot earlier and very rarely eat breakfast. I often skip lunch because I'm too busy/can't find a good place/too tired to go out so I don't have a good meal until I got home. I snack too much during work- offices seem to be filled with crap food; candy, sweets, etc. As soon as I get home I start dinner, my hunger gone from ravenous to subdued. I relax, watch a movie (Sleepy Hollow- I'm on a Tim Burton binge).
Finish eating and have a little while to enjoy eating because soon afterwards it comes. Right when I'm really into writing I feel completely drained. For the rest of the night it's a struggle to stay awake or even concentrate as my body uses up what little energy it has to digest what I've eaten.
This has happened a lot. In the past I've gone to the gym after this and have a workout that does nothing. My body has no energy. I hate feeling completely useless at 7pm. I'm searching for a way to combat this.

I couldn't resist crawling into bed. Not the best idea since Tuesday was a complete loss after a short nap lasted the entired night. I ended up meditating. Time went by quickly and I'm sure I fell asleep for at least a little while. It took some time to get out of bed but I feel completely refreshed now, better than I did this morning.
Tomorrow I can go right to sleep because I'm such a wild guy and my Friday night is booked.

Now I'm drinking a nice glass of Code Red (another way to wake up) and listening to Wendy O Williams.



It's good to be back at work though. This is the first full week of work I've had since March. Pretty bad, isn't it?

I've felt this more and more. I know I've said this before but when I think about living back in Boston it feels like another person. It sounds cliche and I haven't changed that much but it's true. I feel very different now in a lot of ways.
In the past I felt like I was cursed in some weird way. I would make dumb mistakes without even realizing it, screw something up by accident and forget things. A lot of people took that as indifference or stupidity so I began to think it was that too. I knew I was smart yet I kept making so many stupid mistakes; at work, on my own, with women. I've been trying to pinpoint why exactly I acted that way and do whatever I could to change it. I knew if I got over it things would get better, I'd find a job I was better suited for and maybe live a life without so much stress and worry.
I felt like the synapses just weren't firing. I'd fall back into the same patterns without even realizing it. Lately though, I haven't noticed that at all. It's strange, I had strange idiosyncracies that I haven't caught myself doing at all. My mind seems much clearer and I find myself working through things without a problem. I pick things up much more quickly and don't forget them. I've been much more confident. I used to get so worked up over things now it takes a lot to bother me. Instead I find a way around it or the easiest way to deal with it.
I'm not sure what I did or how, I think the week in Maine had something to do with it. I know what I've been dealing with in the last few months has but I feel so relieved. I'm getting so much more done, I'm writing better (and a lot more often), and I don't see anything bothering me now.
I'm afraid I'll curse this by even mentioning it, but today I realized what I've been sensing for a while and had to write it down. I'm thinking much more clearly. I remember thinking in the past that I just couldn't get over some things, I couldn't concentrate or didn't want to, now it's no problem. Everything seems to fit now, I can see how to better my career and I'm more comfortable with everything. I swear it feels like my IQ just got boosted a few points. I was never dumb, but now I feel much smarter.
I hope that doesn't seem conceited, it's not meant to be. It's just something I can't ignore anymore.

If losing all my shit, moving cross country and losing what could have been (but most likely wasn't) a great relationship is what it took for this to happen then it was all worth it.

---------------------

Some guy came up to me on the sidewalk and started polishing my shoes. I wanted to keep walking but was afraid I'd kick him in the face. Is this a new way to beg? People aren't cleaning windshields anymore?

---------------------

Look what I found on Boners. I used to walk by this sign every day.

I've decided I'm not looking for a girlfriend anymore. Things are finally going my way, I have a job, slowly building up friends and I don't want the hassle of dating and catering to a woman right now. I don't know why I was expending so much effort for it for so long.
For one thing I don't have the best view of women right now. Since I've dating in my late teens the majority of women I've been out with have been manipulative, selfish, emotionally damaged, shallow and violent. I wonder if it was always like this, were my grandparents putting up with that before they got married? Did my dad have to weed out such women before he met my mom? I'm not looking to become a surrogate daddy or baby a grown woman or put up with her unnecessary wants and unrealistic needs like it seems men have to with so many women. Dating shouldn't be a man fixing her fucked up childhood or remaking himself just to get the attention of a woman. I also don't trust many women. They lie to themselves, which I hate even more.

Not all women are like this, of course. I've met some amazing women and I'm (obviously) not free of my own problems. I realize I brought a lot of this out on myself. The women I've been involved with over the years seems to have more than their share of problems. Maybe that's why I was drawn to them. I've been cheated on more times than I can count, lied to even more, hit, stalked, criticized, I can't imagine that happening with any other generation than ours. I brought it out of them somehow, I'm sure. Maybe I was too good or too nice or too honest and they needed the challenge or excitement.

I don't keep someone around if I can't trust them, which is why I'm so close to C and J. I know they're honest with me.

In the past I've had lovers and it never went beyond that. I think about that often. One woman was tall, beautiful, very intelligent and had a great life. She taught at the Harvard Secondary School and we'd get into discussions about education, teaching and history. She was an amazing lover, giving, open, imaginative, yet I never thought of taking it farther. We'd go out on dates and were good friends yet I never pushed for anything else. Why I didn't I don't know. I felt for her but not on that level. Maybe she treated me too well.
Another was a beautiful woman, ex dancer, ex model who I think I slept with too early. We had that connection and shared the same point of view in many areas- mostly we'd talk politics. She'd make me laugh and was an incredible lover but again, I didn't take it much farther. I think by that time I was resigned to leaving Boston and didn't want to get attached to anyone.
Can you make yourself feel attached to someone if the situation feels right? Maybe I should have tried.

I'd still like to have a girlfriend, someone I can be there for and look forward to seeing but too often I have dreaded seeing the women I've dated. I've had to act differently, I worried they would be upset or in a bad mood, I'd watch how I acted around them. It's too much work. I want someone I can relax and enjoy being with, not someone to add to the stress.



Maybe I'm too much of an idealist and I still believe that a man and woman should be together for life. I want something substantial, not someone who's just going to prop me up and make me feel better about myself, nor do I want to be that for her. I think the whole view of dating has changed. It's become much more selfish. It's not about the relationship and what it can be but what can that person do for me. People trade up like they're trading new cars, never realizing it's the time and effort that makes it stronger. Very few people want to put in the time or effort and that sucks. Meanwhile the divorce rate is shooting up and it will only get worse.

Was originally named Operation-Meet-A-Woman but shopping is usually a trial for me. By the time I'm in it; sweaty, disheveled, looking for the right size, meeting a woman is long out of my mind.
I'd planned to make a quick stop in Wrigleyville then head to the Loop to some of the bigger stores and find some more clothes for work but I never made it downtown. For about an hour and a half I ran around Wrigleyville and had a very successful operation.
No women met but the other objectives more than cleared.

All in all I ended up with:
-5 shirts for work
-2 new jeans
-1 cool t shirt
-1 pair hiking/snow boots
-3 ties
-1 cool new sweatshirt
-1 cool ass leather jacket, the type I've been meaning to get for years.

I've become quite the clothes horse since my wardrobe burned up. I'm making a pretty impressive little collection. It's really changing my image. No more clothes that are a little too tight, too worn, too stained or too outdated. Everything I have now is what I want to wear. Some of the stuff before I've had since high school. That made it vintage and I loved it but now everything fits today's style and though I've never much cared about that, it's kind of cool how I look like a little fashion plate, studded belt and all. I'm going hipster a bit, what do you expect when the Alley is your favorite clothing store? I've made it a point to not go too far into it, I think it's too conformist and I miss my old style (military surplus issue) but it does fit me a bit. If I really was honest and made my tastes and fashion choices match I'd probably have really cheap tattoos and a mullet.

I need to be more active so that's what I'm going to do. I'm considering taking another job waiting tables at that place in Wicker Park where I met that guy that talked to me about that stuff that time. You remember that don't you? He talked about his brother that was in some band and he took photos of some people some time ago?

That would be real Chicago hipster, having a responsible but creative full time job and something more tedious and street like being a waiter as a second job. It would go with my sideburns.

I also ordered some tickets for some shows coming up; Tenacious D in November and Twisted Sister in December. Should be great. I'd love to see either of those bands. Now it's a good evening, I can smell the wet air from the lake and it's not too cold. Life is good.

I've been trying to get in touch with C because I didn't want things to just end. We've been trying to get in touch with each other and finally made plans to meet tonight. I ended up staying late to meet her, grabbing some food to go at Clark's and jumping into her car to make it to a show before it started. Her friend was the piano player in Marathon 33 at the Straw Dog theater.
We were shovelling the food into our mouths as she worried that she was late. She was smitten with a new guy who was married (to another man) and didn't want to disappoint him.

Made it to the show late and got a special escort through the dressing room. At this point I had no idea what it was about, or even what the title was. I'd been backstage at shows before during my drama stint in high school and it's always a surreal place, this was even more so. People half dressed, running around, makeup caked on, clothes strewn around. There was a sailor in one corner, a corny thin mustachioed thirties gent and a few worn out depression era floozies. It made me remember what was so great about drama.
The play had started and the audience was a good number. It was opening night. Looking closer it seemed it was mostly relatives and friends of the cast. There were quite a few senior citizens in the seats, the type of people I normally wouldn't imagine going to see a show at small hole in the wall theaters like this one.
I have seen two plays in my life, one if you don't count Blue Man Group, so I'm not much of a critic. I just like the idea of watching actual people rather than film for once. At first it seemed like a good story; naive girl in the Depression joins a dance marathon while running away from home. She gets caught up with one shyster who convinces her to run away and compete in fixed dance marathons around the country. Or something like that. I wasn't really quite sure. There were so many subplots, stories that went nowhere and out of nowhere they would start dancing, singing or break into Vaudeville slapstick. They had the "I'll never go hungry again!" moment that seemed out of place and suddenly people would start fighting. Very confusing.
I loved the set though, old timey Chicago style, it really set the mood. I enjoyed the show though it brought out some inappropriate laughs at times. C's roommate, much more knowledgeable in theater than I am, couldn't wait for it to end, at one point trying to sleep on her shoulder.
I didn't have much time alone with C but it was great to see her again. I always forget how much I really have and concentrate on all the bad shit. I've never really appreciated it. Considering all that's happened I've made some great changes.

Exhausted after the play. C, her roommate, the piano player and I were going to get some drinks afterwards but since we were on my street I went home. By the time I got in the door my body was aching. I slept well.

One thing I have to mention, I never thought of myself as sheltered, if anything I am jaded but some things I've seen in the city have shocked me. Not anything too out of the ordinary, but usually people no one else notices get my attention, like the guy coming out of the bar dressed as a sheriff in a bad western with a star covered in glitter or people that look like they should be dead walking through a crowd like nothing's strange.
I love it, I love the oddities of society. I love it even more that no one seems to notice here. In Boston everyone would be watching and acting like they're disinterested.
The L is a strange place late on Friday night.

On May 5, 1993 the bodies of three young boys were found murdered in the woods nearby their homes in West Memphis Arkansas. The bodies were savaged; all were beaten, some were partially skinned, one was castrated. The town was justifiably horrified and demanded the heads of those that committed such a crime. The police force in this normally idle highway community were eager to find those responsible. News of the crime spread around the nation. On the other side of the river, in Memphis, it was a headline in the paper for weeks. I was in school there at the time and I wanted the killers found more than anyone. What happened disgusted me.


The victims: Christopher Byers, Michael Moore and Steve Branch

Less than a month later three teens were arrested and charged with the murders. Papers said they were hoodlums; one worshipped Satan, they did badly in school and had no future. Everyone talked about these "bad kids" and how they hoped they'd burn. The oldest was eighteen, the youngest fifteen.


The accused: Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley

The media followed the case as closely as possible, indicting them daily on the front page. The three boys were unassuming, not the sort you'd believe capable of carrying out such a crime. One of them confessed to police, describing exactly what took place. That and the testimonies of others, including a jailhouse confession to another inmate and a young girl that overheard them bragging about it in the stands at a local baseball game and their case was sealed.
First Jesse Misskelley, the son of a mechanic and confessor of the crime, was put on trial and summarily sentenced to life plus forty years in prison. Soon after his friends, Damien Echols, an eighteen year old loner and product of a broken home, and Jason Baldwin, a small, shy momma's boy, were tried together. Being poor and without any support, their defense consisted of state provided attorneys. Only one of the defendants took the stand where he answered questions concerning the library books about the occult found in his possession and what he thought about the crime.
With little defense, the two boys were found guilty. Baldwin received a life sentence without parole while Echols was sentenced to death.
That would be end of the story. Three people were sentenced for the death of three innocent boys. People were satisfied, if not happy. That would be the end, but it isn't.

An HBO camera crew filming the trial for an edition of America Undercover happened to catch the trial and the circumstances surrounding it. Finding the footage questionable they released it as a film and sent it to the network where it was seen by people around the world and what they saw didn't set well with them.
Misskelley's confession seemed coerced. The film revealed he had been kept away from his parents without food or the consultation of an attorney, illegal in any case but especially so with an underage child. Even more so if his iq is low enough to consider him mentally retarded. Despite being questioned for such a long period of time, the police only thought to record the last thirty minutes of the conversation. In court the jury heard the recording of a tired boy who needed assistance talking by an overeager detective who seemed to feed him the answers.
No evidence could match them to the scene of the crime. Their clothes were free of blood, an impossibility with such a crime and none of them seemed to have a motive. The marks on the boys could only be made with expert precision, a skill none of them seemed to have. They were far from the bloodthirsty killers they were portrayed as. Other than being intensely scared and nervous, none seemed the type that could so easily commit such crimes.
While the trial raged, the stepfather of one of the boys, a man named John Mark Byers saw the media interest as an opportunity for the spotlight. When cameras were around he raged at the three boys on the stand, invoking biblical vengeance against them and spitting on their makeshift graves for the camera. He swore he'd torture them were they ever set free.
A look into his past brought about even more questions. Byers was a jeweler who'd not been able to keep a job. He was an alcoholic and a drug user. On top of that he was known not only for beating his wife but for advocating the use of force as discipline for children.


John Mark Byers

Around Christmas he gave the filmmakers a strange gift; a used hunting knife with human blood on it. The filmmakers immediately handed the weapon over to the police, who tested it and found human blood. When pressed as to the blood type, the police replied that they had botched the results and could not give a second test.
The boys settled into their life in prison and life in the small town tried to get back to normal. As time passed however, the movie, as well as the notoriety of the case, began to grow. People from around the United States were in shock that such a thing could happen in this country. It looked as if three more boys would lose their lives while the killer of three other boys would be allowed to walk free.
A movement began to grow and the changes in technology allowed them to let their voices be heard. The prosecutors for the case, still congratulating themselves on a job well done, were on television again, defending their past actions. Meanwhile the accused boys had grown and showed up on television, commenting on the case. Echols had a stay of execution and had become a Buddhist as well as a very intelligent and prolific writer. Baldwin had graduated high school in prison and was studying Law.
While Echol's family had moved on, Baldwin's mother still yearns to see her soon free, as does Misskelley's father and they still actively support their sons. Dan Stidham, Misskelley's lawyer and the only one still working on the case, said the decision didn't sit well with him and has sworn to set them free. While his other clients have dropped him, he promises to see the case through to the end. It is the only case he works on now. Were it not for him, their futures would look bleak. He has gained the support of some of the most notable forensic experts in the country, who have studied the crime scene thoroughly.
New evidence has come to light. Bite marks on the skin of the murdered boys were discovered and, after testing was done, were found to not match any of the three men accused. It was impossible to have the same impressions made of Byers' teeth as he had them removed soon after the evidence came to light. Money is currently being collected to have DNA testing done in the case, which is hoped will clear the men of the crime, possibly freeing them from prison. The prosecutors in the case are doing everything they can to downplay its growing notoriety, labelling it as fair justice done. Meanwhile Echols is coming on his thirty second birthday having spent almost half his life in prison for a crime evidence shows he did not commit.

and John Mark Byers? His wife was found dead from mysterious circumstances. While he claims she overdosed, others believe she was strangled to death violently. Later he gained attention for burglary and attacking the son of one of his neighbors. He also faced police when he pulled a gun on a child, forcing him to beat up a smaller child. When he was arrested selling drugs to an undercover police officer he was arrested and thrown in jail.


The accused today: Echols, Baldwin and Misskelley

I wrote this for a few reasons. I feel close to the case, since it happened in the next town over and the age of the boys. I am only a year older than Echols and was right out of high school when the crime occurred. I know the depths people will go to ostracize people that don't fit the norm. I listen to a lot of the same bands they did and wore black, two things that the prosecution used against them in the trial.
The case shows the extent the media will go to get a story, publishing dishonest reports with only slight truth to them in order to get a reaction and sell papers. It's one of the reasons I no longer want to work in that industry.
I also think that no matter how shitty life can get and how I think I'm going through some bad shit there are always people that have it worse and are handling it better. It helps keep things in perspective.

I was considering starting another page or a blog to promote my book and talk about the history behind the story and the writing process but that would probably take away from the actual writing of it. Besides, I should probably get an agent first before going the self promotion route.

What does everyone think?

anyone?

Strange how things look so different once they're behind you. I miss Boston, not all of it and I don't want to go back but I find myself thinking back to that city. I miss South Boston because things seemed so much simpler then. I remember having a lot of shit to deal with there so it wasn't all that different, it was tighter and familiar. I still feel like a stranger here. I probably will be for a while. I'm still washing the taste of KT out of my mouth.

I hate what's happened to C. Maybe during the week away in Maine she got used to not having me around and hasn't shown much interest in bringing me back into her life. We left on great terms and I believe she's been busy but the two times we've talked it seemed like even talking with me was a chore. We made plans for sometime this week but only as an afterthought. I'm not sure if it will ever happen.

We weren't dating and I know she sees several people, I just realized how much I enjoyed having her in my life. So many people around her are these emotionally different or broken people that they take up so much of her attention. I don't feel near what I used to so maybe I'm not that important anymore.
For a while it was just her and I and then people started to slowly creep in. I miss her. I want to see her again.

I don't mind working but I hate waking up early. Once I'm moving everything seems ok. It's good to be back at work, rush hour doesn't seem so miserable here as it did in Boston.

The new place is very low key; jeans and t shirts are common though I noticed no one had any problem working, a good thing since I just wanted to immerse myself in it and not spend the day chatting with anyone.
As is my custom, I was hit with exhaustion a couple hours after coming it. I could feel myself dropping off but fought it. At one job I fell asleep during the interview and still managed to get hired. I got enough sleep so it shouldn't be a problem but damn, what I wouldn't do to get back to bed.

I didn't know anything about the area so at lunch I stayed in, promising myself a nice fat pizza if I made it through the day without problems. I got restless and, as everyone disappeared to eat, I began writing on Post Its, picking up where I left off in my book. For once I was hit with tons of ideas. In the past, while in the drudgery of the work day there seemed to be some sort of wall that kept me from really putting all the connections together. It's been with me for what seems like forever, I could never identify it but now it seems as if it's disappearing. My mind is sharper, I'm more active, able to take on more than I ever did and doing it flawlessly.

For the past year or so it looked like it was coming apart and now I'm seeing all the things I've always wanted to do but could never put together. I'm getting so much done every day and I'm not burdened by overthinking everything. It just comes out of me like I've always had it. Lunch for me was filling up little yellow pieces of paper to add to my book when I got home.

I categorized resumes, looking at everyone's PhD, MA Ed, RSVP and how much they've accomplished; grants gotten, papers written, books published. Got some good ideas to spruce up my resume. Very few things are permanent, most especially jobs. To stay active you've got to keep looking, going to the better offer. I'm sure with my qualifications I could ask for a much higher price next time and a better position.

But now I'm enjoying my pizza...

Sitting here listen to the comforting hiss of the radiator. So glad the heat's on. Now I can just hibernate and write.

Work tomorrow. It will be good to get back to it. I've accomplished a lot, more than I ever planned on my time off and now I'll get more done now that I'm working.

Got in touch with C. She's been even busier than before I left. We planned to meet this week to go to a show. We'll see how it goes...

It's becoming harder and harder to deal with the smell of smoke. I used to have no tolerance for it at all but since moving here it hasn't bothered me that much. Now my roommate's constant hacking and smoking at every opportunity is really getting to me.

Bitch bitch.

I'm buying things one at a time for my own place. At one point I had enough for a two bedroom house; two beds, couch, tv, furniture, bookshelves, kitchen utensils, pots and pans, sheets, towels, etc but we all know what happened then. If I moved now I wouldn't even have a bed.

It's not such a bad setup here and, as roommates go, I could do a lot worse. I just want to live on my own. Moving in here was just a last minute precaution I ended up falling back on.

I've become very reclusive and have kept to myself because I don't want to hear him talk about my laundry and how he does his every weekend. Never mind that he smells like an ashtray.

Out with this woman, not really a date but kinda. She's not my type but it's something.

She's bemoaning her marriage ending. My response; "Oh, you're married?"

Turns out, she is but it's ending soon. Why? Because of infidelity. Not his, but hers. When I pressed her further, she told me it "just happened" because he wasn't giving her enough attention. I credit her for at least being honest but how do these things "just happen?" Aren't there other methods for getting attention? Why don't people take responsibility for these things anymore? How hard is it to stay faithful? If your partner is not giving you the attention you want it's because he/she isn't receiving the attention they want. Marriage isn't a stagnant thing, it's something you always have to work on.

Needless to say, I won't be seeing her again....

----------------------

Wait, I just remembered another incident.

Second date with a woman (yes, I date a lot. It's a way of meeting people in a city where I don't know anyone.) and she's telling me about her past dating history. I was pretty shocked by the extent of it so when I asked if she was tested she just laughed; "Of course, I'm clean and don't have AIDS."

"What else don't you have?"

"Well I have herpes...."

After reconsidering the definition of clean I told her I wasn't comfortable seeing her again, her only response; "Why? Was I too old for you?"

I'm not going to report on every date I have, I don't want this place to turn into that but I couldn't let those slip by without mentioning something. It's a scary dating world out there.

Start my new position as an editor on Monday.

About to start a new chapter in my book as well.

Things are moving along.

Turns out more people were reading this site than I thought.

I like this time of year, the scent in the air, the gloomy evenings and the chill in the air. I was dreading it because I didn't have the wardrobe for it but now wearing a broken in extra large hoodie, with the radiator hissing behind me, I can enjoy it. I've heard the winters in this city can be brutal but many people I talk to say they're not so bad. They couldn't be any worse than some of the ones in Boston though. It will be my first winter here since the year of my birth.

Life is changing faster and faster, it's one thing I've noticed. Already I feel a lot has changed since the week before I left for Maine. I left after spending most of the night with C and we've hardly spoken since. We left on a very good note which makes it all the stranger. She has a very time consuming job so I'm used to being at the whim of her schedule though we usually connect by phone a few times a week regardless. We've talked twice, once a few days after I returned to let her know I was around and once when she got off work and called me. As usual she was tired and going right home but wouldn't be able to meet this week. In the past few weeks her parents have been by, her best friend moved in with her and her sister moved to town to start college, all of which takes up her time. I'm sure we'll get together again, though I'm not sure when. This has just happened to me too much and it sucks, I hate growing apart from friends.

For the life of me I can't explain the existence of these things. A sane god would never allow such beings to come into existence yet here they are evidence that there is no god or, if there is that it has a sadistic sense of humor.

At first glance it doesn't seem that bad. I must be exaggerating. I mean, what's wrong with enjoying a band so much that you want to play there songs. That's what rock and roll's all about right? Stairway to Heaven and Iron Man and all that shit, right?

But from there it takes a sick, twisted turn.

Some don't want to just play the band's songs. They want to become the band. It's one thing to wear the band's shirts, play their songs or get a tattoo but dressing like them- it pains me.

Why spend years honing your talent, learning scales frets, trying to hone your own style and then give up and decide to become someone else. Why not write your own stuff. No matter how bad, you're still better off than any tribute band.

It's not a one off thing either. Some of these bands have been at it for years. At least one proudly says they have been living a joke for twenty years. Twenty years! That's not a joke, that's a career. What a waste.

If I spent years playing and putting out an image as a musician and some lazy sack of shit dressed up as a bad replica of me in cheap clothes I'd sue the shit out of him so all he had left is his lack of self esteem.

Look at this parade of freaks;


This is Fat Metallica


and Fat Alice Cooper.


Great thing about this one is there are three AC/DC bands that call themselves "Bonfire". That's three tribute bands too many, no matter what the name.


Four frat boys that take their shirts off instantly become the Red Hot Chili Peppers.


At least one of them looks like Abba.


More than one person in the band has to look like their counterpart for you to legally call yourselves a tribute band.


This is right from Flash Gordon the Motion Picture.


One douchebag is more than enough.


Tribute Axl? At least he thinks so.


Look, the U2 tribute got to go to Iraq. Don't the troops have enough shit to deal with? War is hell. Good camoflage boys, it's like you're invisible.

A slow strange day. I woke up too early after getting to bed too late. I might have gotten three and a half hours of sleep all last night. Today was spent promising myself I'd go back to bed as soon as I finished something. Before I did something else came up. For some reason I'm feeling tired and achy. My right arm feels fucked up though it has no reason to be. Lack of sleep possibly? Definitely. Two jobs called so tomorrow will be eventful.

Kraftwerk somehow found their way onto my playlist and it seemed very appropriate. Slow and drab but entertaining. That's exactly my mood right now. Just like I'm on autopilot.



Last night I was thinking of a game show called How Will I Die? Great prizes awarded to those that win. A lifetime supply of bleach and sleeping pills to the runners up.

Not sure how the game would work. I picture a huge game board a la Tic Tac Dough with a smiling idiot like Wink Martindale (or Mitt Romney) as host.



The choices are:

Old Age- %15
Cancer- %20
Heart Attack- %30
Murder-%40
Suicide- %70
Unplanned Accident- %80

My roommate is creeping me out. Every time I've come out of my bedroom today he's been right there looking at my door. When I ask him what he's doing he says he was just walking by, which is bullshit unless he walks sideways. I can hear him slinking around outside like some freak.
He's been coughing like he just got out of an iron lung. It's getting really bad. I'm surprised I put up with it this long. He wonders why his roommates only stay for a few months...I can't wait to get my own place again. This guy is weirding me out.

Travelling and my sightseeing vacations have become a staple in my life. At first I didn't think of this so much as a vacation as much as being there for J, who has had a tough time ever since I moved to Chicago. We had our period of lamenting our separate situations but I knew enough that the only way to get past it is to get out and get your mind off of it. The last two days, when we had finished seeing everything we wanted to see and had time to kill, I got us out of the house and driving, going to beaches, eating outside, seeing movies, anything. It worked out well.
We did a lot on this vacation;

-We saw Fort McClary, an old Pre Revolutionary, War of 1812, Civil War, WWI and WWII fort. I think it will be used in WWIII also but not sure which side. Hopefully the mountainmen up in Maine and NH will have made New England a free zone by then so it will go to the people.
-We almost hit a buck crossing the road at night. On the way to the airport we almost hit a pack of deer.
-Saw the first sunrise in America on Cadillac Mountain.
-Got all the winter clothes I needed to get (winter coat, hat, gloves) but not hiking boots. I got a cool belt, three shirts and nunchaku though.
-Spent several nights in the complete silence of the country in huge plush beds.
-Had a lot of time to think things over. I have better ideas about finding a job, ideas for my book, for short stories, for dealing with all my shit. That was the most important thing I did.
-Saw Jackass II (good, but not as good as I'd hoped) and Employee of the Month (about as good as I expected).
-Ate a lot, actually got sick from eating so much a couple of times. Have to work it all off.

I was late getting to Manchester so I missed the first flight to Chicago and had to spend another night in Maine. While waiting and figuring I was already late one woman cuts ahead of the line because she had to go to Chicago and was already late, nevermind that half the line is going to Chicago. She makes a huge production about it, yelling at the woman behind the counter even though it's her own fault and just as she's leaving the guy behind me gets mad because I won't let him get ahead of me to get the flight to Chicago because I'm on the same flight. When I tell him the flight's gone and we both missed it he throws a little temper tantrum as well.
Grown adults.

I got to the airport at 5am the next morning after only lightly sleeping for an hour and a half, went standby on the first flight, got the only seat available and made it to Chicago safe but very tired and unwashed. Going to sleep long and well tonight.

I was in an accident that put me in a coma for three days. Every year on this day I try to do something to appreciate surviving and enjoy the day. It's one of my biggest personal holidays.
This year I was in Bar Harbor with J. We left the day before to go to Booth Bay Harbor and spent the night on the coast in Bar Harbor. This morning we did one thing I've always wanted to do; see the first sunlight as it hits the US.
We woke up early to make it to Cadillac Mountain where the sun hits and, through cold, heavy winds watched it slowly break through the clouded morning. Bar Harbor is now an upper class vacation spot so several people dressed in their overexpensive clothes watched it with us. A good number of them gabbed right through the sunset, not considering how beautiful the view was. J commented on how much the place had changed since she was a girl.
The rest of the day we went around Mt. Desert Island, where Bar Harbor is, and saw Thunder Hole, Sand Beach and amazing views all throughout the island. We made it back late last night, both of us exhausted and tired. I intended to sleep as late as possible but couldn't stay in bed past nine.

I've spent a lot of time reconsidering my life in light of what I was feeling like last week. While staying at a hotel I watched some of the local flavor on the channels as I fell asleep. One channel was Canadian and showed a comedy show that wasn't funny at all. Another had a story about this famous scientist that's managing the robots on Mars and writes fiction on the side. He's won awards and is well known in both fields, which is odd considering the differences between the two.
Much of what he said was both fields were known for the long thought process that fosters solitude and loneliness. It's something all professional writers and scientists have to deal with and if you can't then you won't do well in either field.
My time away helped me think all that through. I had a rough week last week and most of it was in my own head. I get too deep into my stresses and worries and feel much more cut off from people than I actually am. Knowing that, hopefully I can deal with it better from now on.

More and more I think I'm a New Englander. I've spent most of my life here and this is the area that feels most like home to me. I've lived in the South and now live in the Midwest and, while they have some nice spots, New England is most familiar. I love the history, the attitude of the people and I love the area. It's so amazing, small seaport towns that haven't changed in hundreds of years, beautiful coasts, deep forests...Someday I will move out west and maybe settle down for good there but I feel like I'll always be a displaced New Englander.

This town looks like Martha Stewart's wet dream. The house we're in has a frog pond, barn, an apple tree, pear tree, a garden full of veggies and the woods right behind us goes on forever.

I miss writing my book. The first day here I went and got a pad of paper and spent much of the next day writing thoughts and ideas in it.

A long day. Woke up early and made it to NH, got a new winter jacket, shoes and nice pants. We found a great army/navy store and I got some shirts, gloves and nunchaku because my last ones had to be discarded after the fire. NH is a retail giant since there's no tax and Maine seems to have a lot of the headquarters here. This place is full of these quaint little villages with massive stores by LL Bean, Polo, etc all over the place.

We drove on the Kancamagus Highway and went pretty far up in the hills. Ended up in the middle of a cloud on an overlook. The wind was whipping around, mist was everywhere. It was beautiful. Down in the valley you could see every shade of red, orange, yellow, brown, green...

We spent some time in Jackson and North Conway, two towns in the valley known as vacation areas for the wealthy, the types of places they can go to pretend they're doing something worthwhile with their lives.

Jackson was very tiny. The town hall was a small building on the side of the road. The public library was only one room. It would be great to go there for a while, maybe settle down but I'd go nuts with boredom year round. Not many people there. It looked cut off from time. The main road into town was through a one lane covered bridge. If you don't ski, spend your life in the woods or are an artist it's not the place for you.

We stopped at a little coffee shop/art store in North Conway called the Met. On the tables were these blank books customers were encouraged to write notes in. Most of them were garbage but I was particularly interested in the love notes written by some of the people. I noticed all the women that wrote how much they loved their man always added all the things they did for them. They never mentioned what type of person he is, only all the things they do for them and how happy he makes them.
It got me thinking. Most women are in love as long as things go their way. They appreciate what the man can give them rather than for who they are. Rarely do you hear about a woman staying with a man when he loses what he had; his money, his health, hit hard times, needs support. More often than not the woman is gone whenever he needs her help. Many men do the same but it is epidemic for women. Men are thought of as being the providers and now they are nothing more than making a woman's life easier. If he can't do that they find someone who will, never mind the emotions involved. Society has taught women that she should have all these things and treated as children; they deserve to be happy, a man is there to look after a woman, baby her and pamper her though if the man ever needs any of those things he is thought of as needy, selfish and unmanly. What happened to men and women that that has become accepted? Are men nothing more than another luxury to allow women to become more selfish and materialistic? Are they not expected to put effort into relationships? It's no wonder so many are getting disappointed with who they are finding themselves with. They expect too much and offer too little.