Friday, May 23, 2008
Involuntary Passing
I was promised sleep. By myself, granted, but promised none the less. Its not that I wanted it...other than for my health. 6 days of post 1.5am unconsciousness had worn down my edges a bit. Frayed patterns were creeping into my vision from time to time. I didn't stop because i was having fun. That and I was quite excited to talk to her again whenever I could. We had been texting for hours. Funny things and others (possibly) laced w/subtext. Whos to say w/text conversations? The best you can hope for is to amuse and endear. The worst is to offend and alienate.
I felt like the evening was progressing favorably. F and I were wandering our Nic. neighborhood for beers and burgers and then further down for red jax for the vodka I had @ home...and then further down for more vodka when we both remembered that C and the two of us had severely crippled the original cache the night before. I think i saw an old HS friends brother taking a break from his apartment cleaning job. Last time I saw him, some 12 years ago, he was going to kick my ass for "taking his woman." I had "taken" her to her family in her home town about 5 hours away because he was an abusive drunk who couldn't stay out of jail. I didn't feel the need to talk to him about old times and i don't think he recognized me. At least i didn't get anything sharp jabbed into my squishy bits so I had to assume he didn't.
Ran into J and R outside the liquor store. R had some tasty Canadian beer and gave me my geo lesson for the day. Whats the only US city thats actually north of a Canadian city? I didn't know either :)
F and I had lively conversation on the way back. The text thread had wound itself indelibly into the walking and talking. It was so easy and comfortable. A very enjoyable sensation for a beautiful summer(esque) evening. We made it back to home base at about quarter to 10 and settled down for some serious burned tv watching. I made us drinks that turned out to be very near the stomach turning, floor spitting variety of the prior nights study in grossoutology. That weeks theme happened to be "1/4 of drinkable beer w/slyly inserted cigarette." I was lucky i was out on the porch when i spit that one out. This weeks theme of "poorly recognized DIET energy drink mixed w/excessive amounts of slightly shiver inducing vodka" wasn't quite as horrible. Still unfortunate when you take a big gulp since you don't notice the awful truth for a few seconds. Oh, that aftertaste!
I made it upstairs and brushed and comfy by 11.42. The texting had continued, unabated and there was some ideas being batted around about meeting up @ 1am. As I lay in the darkness on my back, hands folded across my stomach and phone in hand, awaiting the next conversational morsel, I started to drift. Time seemed to stretch and bow between each buzz. I contemplated mentioning the fact that I now had to close one eye to text back but figured I would be fine...
It was 3.54am. My phone was halfway across my king sized (an ocean for those of you who haven't spent any time in one) I had a voice mail and a text message waiting for me. Anyone who knows me knows well that this is not a situation I find myself in often. I would have loved to go out!
It was 6.33 am and I woke w/a smile. I felt refreshed and happy and ready for a truly adventurous weekend. Its amazing what an extra hour and a bit can do for your sense of well being. Next time...I promise...ill meet you and sleep when im dead...
Monday, May 19, 2008
how many is enough?
The first party was nice. Good people and a pleasant atmosphere. I felt like a responsible adult as i helped w/the grilling and sipped on a beer. I showed a child how to play Bocci and didn't laugh much when he sucked. I talked to friends I don't get to see often about houses and dogs and white picket fences. I set the yard on fire in a controlled manner. B got to cuddle w/her neice. Apparently, J didn't get the big kid memo and drank 3 litres of wine from a massive magnum. I think i saw her strap it to her back and run around the yard w/a bendy straw in her mouth. Or maybe that was just a lovely dream created by the rest of the weekend. Seriously...
Got to Cs place around 11 w/B and J in tow. One was sleepy and the other was rocking. We quickly began the stewing process in the hot tub. Cs parents were out of town and so we were all 17 again. S came out shortly after and added his flavor to our mix. He was 17 now as well. We drank and laughed and drank and took pictures and drank and smoked and drank. I brought a bottle of chocolate vodka over. There was not any left by 1am or so. S took off and the rest of us slept. My morning mouth was filled to the brim w/kitty litter so the logical answer was mimosas. This had been planned prior but i don't think anyone ment for us to have a bottle of champagne each. Its real hard to feel bad on a beautiful day in a hot tub w/bubbles on your body and bubbles on your lips. S came back over and C made ungodly good french toast. Im slightly droopy now on this monday morning and i think that the toxic mix of cigs and hot tub fumes may have turned my lungs into a permanent festering mass of unpleasantness but thats ok. I wouldn't do anything differently if i knew i was going to die in 2 years than im doing now. And i plan on living to around 120 at the moment...
Got to Cs place around 11 w/B and J in tow. One was sleepy and the other was rocking. We quickly began the stewing process in the hot tub. Cs parents were out of town and so we were all 17 again. S came out shortly after and added his flavor to our mix. He was 17 now as well. We drank and laughed and drank and took pictures and drank and smoked and drank. I brought a bottle of chocolate vodka over. There was not any left by 1am or so. S took off and the rest of us slept. My morning mouth was filled to the brim w/kitty litter so the logical answer was mimosas. This had been planned prior but i don't think anyone ment for us to have a bottle of champagne each. Its real hard to feel bad on a beautiful day in a hot tub w/bubbles on your body and bubbles on your lips. S came back over and C made ungodly good french toast. Im slightly droopy now on this monday morning and i think that the toxic mix of cigs and hot tub fumes may have turned my lungs into a permanent festering mass of unpleasantness but thats ok. I wouldn't do anything differently if i knew i was going to die in 2 years than im doing now. And i plan on living to around 120 at the moment...
Monday, May 12, 2008
Cousins Daughter
My Cousins daughter was sitting on one of the 4 high stools at the kitchen counter. We we all warm and happy after a day of fishing and consuming. Family time in the spring in the woods. Pleasant. Cousin had gone downstairs with her son and the little blond wobbler had stayed upstairs. She was carrying on a fairly animated conversation with and older male in the group when she noticed who she was talking to. She, at barely over 2, had already understood the inherent difficulties of the male and female relationship. Her little mind, reeling w/the sudden knowledge of the ages, tipped her off the stool to topple to the wood floor. Her Grandpa quickly helped her unsteadily to her feet. "Are you alright, Honey?" We looked in concern at the slowly tearing eyes. "Ill be right back" was the uneven response. "What, Darling?" Grandpas concern was still there but it had been tempered by a slight amusement. "Ill be right back." The response had no more conviction but, resolved, she turned on her heal and shuffled downstairs to my Cousin.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Whats the Charge Officer?
The night was young but i was already weary. Long drives and excessive consumption from the prior few days had sapped some of my reserves of energy. However my resolve was strong. Mr. Nuevo was awaiting my arrival and I couldn't let him down.
Arriving in Minneapolis, i found it blustery and moist, a condition that is fairly common for the spring in Minnesota. After consuming a few beers and a few cigs on my front porch, we decided to amble to azia for some late night happy hour. Mr. Pants was barred from attending on the grounds that he had to work in the morning and had done terrible (and wonderful) things to himself a few nights prior. Nuevo and I sauntered through the bluster for 4 blocks and deposited ourselves in the soft and warm glow at the bar.
The evening was progressing normally. Various exotic beverages were being thrust into our hands, consumed, discussed and then replaced w/new. Cheap and tasty sushi arrived and disappeared in the usual fashion. The old drunk on the stool next to us attempted to be cultured by discussing a Brazilian liquor that he couldn't pronounce. We were not in a position to dissuade him but rather listened politely and then endeavored to ignore him for the remainder of our time.
Around 1.15am, Nuevo went to the bathroom. I was about to order us another round when he appeared at my side, wild eyed and proclaimed that it was, "time to go...now!" I calmly paid the bill while he crouched outside in the rain, occasionally peering around the side of the building. When i was done w/the check, i walked outside and collected him. It seems that he had gotten into a minor altercation in the restroom and was concerned about his status as a free man for the remainder of the weekend. It seemed to me to be a logical reaction and so, crossing the street to the east side of Nicollet, we began the chilly and damp walk home.
About 1/4 of a block from the bar, we passed a bus stop w/a lone swaying drunk in his mid 40s. He looked like a native American but was mumbling to himself in Spanish. As we passed, he tried to form a sentence to impart on us his extreme desire to go wherever we were going. Failing that, he started to repeat the phrase "where going tonight?" and other variations of that theme. We told him that we were going home and that he should get back under the bus shelter. Handing him some change and a lucky, we turned and began to walk away. Initially, it seemed that he had accepted this exchange but we hadn't gone more than 10 steps before he began to lumber and swerve after us, reviving his "where going" mantra. We stopped again by a light pole and he caught up, eyes unfocused w/the remains of the smoke I had given him unlit in his left hand. It appeared that he had tried to consume it immediately after I had handed it to him. It was half soaked and ratty as if it had taken more than 2 chews to realize that it wasn't, in any conventional sense, food.
"You need to go back to yer bus stop, man." Nuevo and I both attempted to impart the wisdom of this to him. He seemed to understand on a fundamental level but something was obviously preventing him from acquiescence. It was as if he had something very important for us to know or something that he needed to accomplish but just couldn't remember what it was. Having been in similar situation myself in the past, albeit not quite as excessively, I took some pity on him. "here" I said. "you need to throw that cig away." "Let me light you one." I reached into my pocket for a fresh lucky and as i did so, the drunk wrapped his arms and legs around the lamp pole and pretended to hump it, complete w/grunts of satisfaction. It seemed at the time that this was his solution to his dilemma. He couldn't remember what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it or where he wanted to go, but the look on his face told me that he was proud of what he was currently doing and hoped that we found it as humorous as he did.
The problem w/this muddled line of thinking quickly became apparent. I had just finished lighting the cig and handing it to him when i noticed that his demeanor had changed from jovial and slightly confused to highly aroused and full of purpose. It had only taken 2 fake thrusts at the pole to excite him to the point of no return. He was now a man on a mission. That mission was to impregnate that light pole. Nuevo and I tried to stifle our laughter for the rest of the block as his grunts of satisfaction faded into the distance. As we rounded the corner of Nicollet, a squad car turned and headed towards the man on a mission. I regret not turning and watching what im sure was an interesting confrontation.
"Whats the charge officer?"
"Impregnating city property..."
Arriving in Minneapolis, i found it blustery and moist, a condition that is fairly common for the spring in Minnesota. After consuming a few beers and a few cigs on my front porch, we decided to amble to azia for some late night happy hour. Mr. Pants was barred from attending on the grounds that he had to work in the morning and had done terrible (and wonderful) things to himself a few nights prior. Nuevo and I sauntered through the bluster for 4 blocks and deposited ourselves in the soft and warm glow at the bar.
The evening was progressing normally. Various exotic beverages were being thrust into our hands, consumed, discussed and then replaced w/new. Cheap and tasty sushi arrived and disappeared in the usual fashion. The old drunk on the stool next to us attempted to be cultured by discussing a Brazilian liquor that he couldn't pronounce. We were not in a position to dissuade him but rather listened politely and then endeavored to ignore him for the remainder of our time.
Around 1.15am, Nuevo went to the bathroom. I was about to order us another round when he appeared at my side, wild eyed and proclaimed that it was, "time to go...now!" I calmly paid the bill while he crouched outside in the rain, occasionally peering around the side of the building. When i was done w/the check, i walked outside and collected him. It seems that he had gotten into a minor altercation in the restroom and was concerned about his status as a free man for the remainder of the weekend. It seemed to me to be a logical reaction and so, crossing the street to the east side of Nicollet, we began the chilly and damp walk home.
About 1/4 of a block from the bar, we passed a bus stop w/a lone swaying drunk in his mid 40s. He looked like a native American but was mumbling to himself in Spanish. As we passed, he tried to form a sentence to impart on us his extreme desire to go wherever we were going. Failing that, he started to repeat the phrase "where going tonight?" and other variations of that theme. We told him that we were going home and that he should get back under the bus shelter. Handing him some change and a lucky, we turned and began to walk away. Initially, it seemed that he had accepted this exchange but we hadn't gone more than 10 steps before he began to lumber and swerve after us, reviving his "where going" mantra. We stopped again by a light pole and he caught up, eyes unfocused w/the remains of the smoke I had given him unlit in his left hand. It appeared that he had tried to consume it immediately after I had handed it to him. It was half soaked and ratty as if it had taken more than 2 chews to realize that it wasn't, in any conventional sense, food.
"You need to go back to yer bus stop, man." Nuevo and I both attempted to impart the wisdom of this to him. He seemed to understand on a fundamental level but something was obviously preventing him from acquiescence. It was as if he had something very important for us to know or something that he needed to accomplish but just couldn't remember what it was. Having been in similar situation myself in the past, albeit not quite as excessively, I took some pity on him. "here" I said. "you need to throw that cig away." "Let me light you one." I reached into my pocket for a fresh lucky and as i did so, the drunk wrapped his arms and legs around the lamp pole and pretended to hump it, complete w/grunts of satisfaction. It seemed at the time that this was his solution to his dilemma. He couldn't remember what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it or where he wanted to go, but the look on his face told me that he was proud of what he was currently doing and hoped that we found it as humorous as he did.
The problem w/this muddled line of thinking quickly became apparent. I had just finished lighting the cig and handing it to him when i noticed that his demeanor had changed from jovial and slightly confused to highly aroused and full of purpose. It had only taken 2 fake thrusts at the pole to excite him to the point of no return. He was now a man on a mission. That mission was to impregnate that light pole. Nuevo and I tried to stifle our laughter for the rest of the block as his grunts of satisfaction faded into the distance. As we rounded the corner of Nicollet, a squad car turned and headed towards the man on a mission. I regret not turning and watching what im sure was an interesting confrontation.
"Whats the charge officer?"
"Impregnating city property..."
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