The Hot Chick Barrista Geek Who Came in From the Cold for a Beer or Two

Action? Adventure? Chas thrives on these things.

8pm and my uncle Roy and I finally returned to the apartment from a day spent dropping off presents, getting me a cellphone, trying out an Indian restaurant, fixing my bookcase and doing laundry. Call it a hurricane of activity.

I decide that by 9pm I'm going up to the Heine Bros. coffeeshop to do some reading. When I get up there who happens to be there but Molly, a girl I met a few weeks back who worked up there. She fell in love with the fact that we have a lot of the same tastes in music and gave me her e-mail address which I mailed and she didn't reply back to. So, I figured that was that and I didn't know if I would see her again. And there she was, wearing her black mini-skirt and high-heeled boots. I ordered a tea and she walked up to the counter and talked with me for a bit before I went back to my table and sat to read “The Big Sleep” by Raymond Chandler.

A few minutes before close I got back up to talk with her; ask a few questions. She asked if I wanted to go out for a beer and I'm like “Sure.” She invited me to stay after close until she could leave.

If there's anything to note about the “conservative” area of town is that they love their sleep and there's nil chance that a bar is open on a Sunday night after 10pm. And that's understandable but not convenient. She and her co-worker leave by 10:42 and Molly and I walk down to Indigo Joe's, a sports bar. They closed at 10. I offered for her to come over to my place and she agreed.

In the back of my mind I'm really apprehensive about this. Working for 3 years for a service that deals with the bad outcomes of society... erring on the side of caution, here.

So we're back at my place in Roy is in bed sleeping. I close his door and we sit in the living room talking about our lives and listening to music. The first song I played for her was “English Girls Approximately,” by Ryan Adams. As minutes wear on I get more tired and she starts noticing. She goes through her hair a few times and I do everything not to kiss her or touch her because I'm trying to do that right thing (but is it ever really?)

By 12:30am she needs to go and I walk her out to her car. We agree that we want to spend more time around each other but she can't give me a schedule. She does give me her number which is the first to go into my new phone. I walk back to my place but stop over to my car to get my book out. She drives off, waving.

Stay tuned...

That IS The Droid I'm Looking For

My cellphone, like a lot of other things in my life, is just about dead. With technology, glasses, and just about any other product made since the last half of the twentieth century the shelf-life has became three years. As of now if my cellphone does not get charged on a nightly basis the “low battery” indicator will continuously blink. Having the phone since November 2007 it was about time to trade-up.

Enter Best Buy, home for tech geeks like me. I'm pretty sure that I've spent enough there to put something though junior college at the very least with having bought my laptop, most of my movies (Blu ray and DVD), and music from there. Seeing as they were having a sale on “smart phones” I wanted to jump the T-mobile ship and go over to Verizon. After dropping off my sister's Christmas presents to my brother (working in a church off of Southside) we went into the lion's den: the shopping mall area on Outer Loop.

For those who don't know there are two bad times of year when it comes to driving on Outer Loop and trying to get into the mall area. One is Christmas and the other is Valentine's Day. To it's credit it took us only twenty minutes to get through the traffic and into the Best Buy lot. My uncle and I walked in and I went to peruse phones while he wandered other where.

No T-mobile. Not necessarily a bad thing but I didn't know if my credit check would go through. When I asked a rep about this he commented, “They won't let us have more than three vendors at any location. We have ATT, Spring, and Verizon.” I probably passed around the phone I was eying at least 4 times before a salesrep approached me and I questioned him about it. A rep named Doug decided to wait on me and we went to a computer in the less-habitated area of the store which was located next to computer monitors and networking equipment.

My credit passed. Did I want the responsibility of a $600 phone? Did I want to add $30 per month to my cellphone bill? Fuck it; I wanted the cellphone. I signed my name on the dotted line, bought a scratch-proof cover, and left the store. While Roy drove I played around with it.

BTW, it's an HTC Incredible. Touch screen, video/camera, etc. Yeah buddy.

My Car Needs a Priest

Through the cold of the Saturday afternoon, and following the “drama” of a near run-in with Jen, I walked down to the Goodyear to check up on my car. I had imagines, maybe blindly, that maybe, just maybe they had looked at my car.

No such chance.

When I brought it in around 1:30pm I told them, “I think the rotors need replaced. I think the brakes do as well.” The guy, probably in his late fifties/early sixties, asked me for my keys, said the car should be looked at by 5, and I waved off and went down to the coffeeshop.

The time I returned was 3:30pm. Nothing. Not even moved. I had my book with me and delved a little more into that while an HDTV fixed to the wall broadcasted the UofL game. I continued thumbing through the book looking for the meaning of my life “self-help style.”

Sometime after 4 a guy sat next to me and we started talking. He’s easily in his sixties however he has that “conservative” veneer – well-groomed, laid-back manner, the guy not hurting for money. His white hair was slicked-back and teeth were perfect. He relayed the fact that he was there because his van was in the shop and needed to be looked at. He drives instead of flies because he sells medical equipment. I talk about flight a little bit and bring up Unclaimed Baggage –a store in Alabama that sells items reclaimed from lost baggage. The conversation then moves to the Internet and Facebook. “I don’t have a Facebook page. I don’t need one…” he says and murmurs something about customers hunting him down or something. A 30-something young, black woman sits the right of him against the wall and concedes the fact that yes, she’s a Facebooker.

4:30pm. Still nothing. The traveling salesman is summoned and his vehicle is ready. He waves off and I sit and talk with the black girl for a few minutes. She’s a military brat and since her mom is still in the military she basically moves around to the period of every 4 years. She’s moved from Atlanta to Columbus (OH) and recently to KY but is preparing to move back to Atlanta. “I have family down there.” When asked more about moving she relayed that she likes having her kids get an idea of other cultures.

“Sir, can you come with me?”

The guy who took my ticket, who was having my car looked at, came over to me and I stood up. I followed him to the side garage and to my vehicle which happened to be the last in line. The undercarriage was jacked-up to 6 feet. We ducked under it so he could show me what was going on.

“Your brakes and rotors are fine. The real problem here is that you have an oil leak that goes from here (points to engine) to here (points to somewhere in the middle of the car).” His fingers pluck the “Texas tea” muck from the beam that goes down the center of the car. He shows me the freeze plug and that it’s about dead. And I’m leaking transmission fluid and coolant.

“Basically,” I said, “it’s somewhere between ‘life support’ and getting a priest.”

“Yeah,” he relays. “It’s dependent upon how much you wanna spend on it.”

He gets me to schedule a “de-greasing” whereby they clean the undercarriage and find out what’s going on. The mechanic who looked over my car tells me that he had to put in 3.5 quarts of oil. I thank them and walk outside where my car is already parked in front of the doorway. I get in and head home.

“The Evading Ex”

Saturday afternoon and I was in for the long haul –battling Christmas shopping traffic, buying stuff for my nephews, and shipping it all off. After picking up the plush Mario and Yoshi for my nephews I went over to Henie Bros. and reaching into my pocket found I pulled out my cellphone and saw that my sister had called. Walking out to the car, mocha in hand, I return the call.

She reminds me that my brother Justen is heading down to Georgia on Sunday and that if I could meet up with him he would take my present for her and the dolls for Bert and Baby Cam. I tell her that I would need to hear from him and she tells me that she’s working on it. About 15 minutes of deliberation returns to that point: was I going to go ahead and ship it USPS or send it with Justen? Round and round what goes around comes around (ha) and I tell her that she’s gotta get in contact with Justen. Meanwhile I need to go get my car looked at.

Drove back to my Buechel stomping grounds or, at least, the Hikes Point area. Pulling into Scott and Sandy’s driveway their entire lot is ICED over – I found myself skating in my shoes. Sandy, Scott, and his mom walked out the front door and said “Hi. We’re leaving.” I slowly turned to return to my car and got in and managed to pull out of the driveway but not without patches of being “stuck.”

I had to make a decision: drive to the J’Town area to Brakeway and have my car looked at or take it over to Goodyear and have them look at it. The plus side about Goodyear is that it’s in the Gardiner Lane plaza which has access to a Buckhead’s, Borders, and the Heine Bros. I used to frequent. Gardiner Lane it was…

Dropped my car off around 1:30pm to the Goodyear. Book in hand (“Zen and the Art of Making a Living”) I walked down to the Heine Bros. coffeeshop, got a mocha, and picked a seat by the window. I tried getting into the book, concentrating on what I was reading, but there were two things nagging me: the hot blond chick on the opposite side of the area I was in trading glances at me, and my “spidey-sense” gave me the feeling that at any moment in time Jennifer was going to show up.

The hot blond chick (Amber) asked me to watch her stuff while she went into the restroom. Easy enough. She came back, thanked me, and returned to studying what I would later find out was for her CPA. I returned to my book and a feeling of calm for a few moments before looking out the window.

Jennifer. Back turned to me with her brown wool longcoat, smoking a cigarette. I found myself watching a play unfold like a movie on a TV set that’s set on “mute.” One girl, whom I didn’t recognize, started walking up to the coffeeshop then stopped, returned to her car and got in, presumably cranking the engine. She backed out of her space and turned left to circle toward the patio where Jennifer was standing. A moment later a RAV4, presumably driven by Caroline (a member of the writing group) pulled up beside Jennifer. The window rolled down and Dave (lying rat-weasel bastard, aka head of the writing group) stuck his head out and they were talking. The RAV4 then drove over to the bakery on the opposite side of the street and parked. Jennifer walked to the end of the sidewalk, finished her cigarette, and then got into the car the other girl (the one who I didn’t recognize) and they drove over to the bakery.

I just shook my head. I went to the restroom and came back, striking up a conversation with Amber. She works for an accounting office, owns a condo, and doesn’t watch TV or movies. Her hair is a kind of dirty blond, white teeth, and may be in her twenties.

And it’s also one of the few times talking with a chick probably saved me. Not long after I started talking with her, we were discussing the book I was reading, John entered the coffeeshop. This time around he had a beard squaring the perimeter of his face. I didn’t see him until I glanced his direction, he gave me a mean look, then beelined to the bathroom. Five minutes later he rushed out of the bathroom hallway faster than he went in. I found my body shaking while I was talking with Amber; maybe it was the anticipation of what could’ve happened. I got her name and digits and since she was busy studying I went back to my table and grabbed my book to leave.

And so what do we garner from this? Was Jennifer upset I was there? I would imagine so. Did she have to go through the DRAMA and SPECTACLE of avoiding me? No, because there were a total of five people compared to the one of me. I don’t hate Dave –he’s not a leader, just a follower who built a following of friends to make himself feel better about his lack of discernable talent. Caroline is a person who is talented and has a good heart but like Tony Stark there’s poison coursing toward it (ergo, Jennifer). John’s only talent is being a 5’8” stack of shit with a smarmy presentation package; why women dig him I don’t know. What Jennifer saw in him baffles me. Why I was his friend was because I didn’t have a lot of other friendship options and we were going to form a business. Oh well.

As for Jennifer… she can sit and stew in her own. Play petty games, cry “Wolf!” and exacerbate whatever drama she needs to. Some women are truly class and style; some women are thirteen-year-old angst-ridden chicks with nothing better to do than find the largest stones possible to throw around in their glass houses. In the words of Cee-Lo, “I say it from my chest that I wish you the best and FUCK YOU.”

And What Have I Learned, You Ask?

Or, maybe you didn't. At this point you're reading this so you're at least curious.

So without further ado and in no certain order except expunging what lies inside here 'tis:

• If you have a male friend who is also friendly with the girl you are dating and you tell this friend what's going on that person is put into the middle and at best you've lost your friend. At worst he's with your girlfriend.

• “Honestly” is a term used to either “lessen the blow” of the end of a relationship or as spite.

• There's always something to be learned at the end of a relationship. Unfortunately “why” is never one of those things.

• Finding out why a relationship failed is like arriving on the site of a plane that downed 50 years ago and you're left little wreckage to sift through and no “black box.”

• It doesn't matter if she can choke down Marlboro Reds like they're going out of style – don't tell her that your on cholesterol medication and she will freak.

• If you're told on the outset that they are a “little bit” crazy, they are a “lot” crazy.

• It's easy to go from seemingly having everything to having nothing at all. From that point it's a matter of getting back up again.

• Loneliness is the realization that it's 1am and no one is in bed with you.

• Breaking up and being broken up on suck equally.

• If things don't “click” or go right the first time out, things aren't going to work the fifth time out.

• Being intelligent and believing in God are NOT mutually exclusive. Wait, maybe others have to learn this...

• Trying to cure loneliness + looking for status = the worst reasons to be in a relationship.

• Always remember: be cool.

• You have the right to say “Stop.” You have the right to walk away.

• There is always something greater at work and you have no control over your part. You're just going to have to enjoy the play.

• Sex without love sucks. Period.

• If you ever get lost keep going because, eventually, you'll find yourself again.

• Sometimes other people are shitty and you're not as bad as you think you are.

• There are acquaintances, and there are friends.

• People on Facebook are not your “friends” unless you already know them and they've done something with you like help you move.

• It's difficult living in “extreme” culture. Drama reigns king and shrugging and shuffling are outlawed.

• The immortal battle is that of those trying to do right versus those trying to do right by themselves.

• If I had some of those instances again I would've said “I love you.”

• There's resting on your laurels, then there is destroying them.

• Once you've lost everything there is a great deal of freedom. Watch out for flailing.

That's all I got people. Feel free to comment.

-Chas

Blogmatic for the People

Of all the nights I return back to the apartment Monday was the only one which I got back before 10pm. Yeah, a busy week.

Tuesday night I attended one of the digital photography meetings -this one about making your own website. As with a lot of meetings it was more fluff than actual things I needed to know. In fact I didn't realize how much of the stuff I already knew until after when I said “Y'know, I didn't realize how much I knew about blogging until tonight.” And maybe there's the difference between sitting in on a class about a certain subject and having a group of people meet on it. For what it was, a basic 101 intro-level gloss-over on the world of website design, why photographers need it, etc., it wasn't bad, I have just spent so many years blogging that I wanted to know more or have it be more in-depth. But hey, the world isn't about me so I take what they offer.

Wednesday night and another Meetup group, this time centered around those who aren't from here and those who are but want to meet transplants/transients. Aside from the organizers I knew two people who were going to be there. I walked in and was instantly greeted by the organizer who asked me about blogging for Louisville.com and I said that it was interesting and went on and on about the business of blogging so much so that even I think I lost my point somewhere. Needing something to drink I went over to the bar when I was approached by L. “L” wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen or how it was going to happen, and neither was I, but she asked if I was going to be civil and told me that she preferred her name not to be used in my blog. In compromise I revert to 19^th century name-dropping which is initial only.

So we walked over to where a mutual acquaintance happened to be talking to two others and we stood and talked for a bit. She checked her cellphone to see what time it was and I asked if she had been to 21c yet. “No, we were supposed to go there on a date. Remember?” Aye. I offered to take her there to show her one of my favorite spots in the city (which I've shown to a few others such as Eric, Norma, Sabrina, and Jennifer). It's just a really cool view of the city. She agrees and we walk and talk as we head to the spot. I point out a few things along the way and we walk into the parking garage, into the elevator, and up to the roof.

And during all this we hash out some of the problems and issues that we had. The friendship, the relationship... stuff. Cold and needing warmth we go back down to the street level and enter 21c where I show her around for a few minutes before we walk back to the coffeeshop. I walk with her down to her car and we talk more about the faults and I relay that on my end I didn't know how to say that I woke up and realized it wasn't going to work. She tells me that she's in a happy place, that her and some guy she met after me are looking for a house, and that's fine. She tells me that things happen for a reason (I agree) and that what she got out of our relationship was the need for communication, to let demands/requests be known. I agree on that as well. Not knowing what time the coffeeshop was closing, and owing them on a tab, we said goodnight and I returned. I walked up to the counter, asked what time was closing (“whenever we feel like it...”) ordered a mocha and sat in a chair, drinking it and staring out the window. The other acquaintance took five minutes out from leaving and talked with me. Afterward the female organizer called me over to a table to join the rest and I did for a few moments before going and talking with her husband about photography. Most of the ones left were going to see a band play live but having a 30 minute drive ahead of me I opted out, Maybe another time.

“Y'see? I'm so glad I'm not dating.” Linette (sp?) is the manager of a coffeeshop I go to during lunch half-hour. We talk about a lot of things. I relay that the worst reasons for any couple to be together is loneliness and status for the sake of the quo. She agrees. “Nobody ever wants to get to know anybody anymore.” It's true – we want someone who meets all the boxes on the checklist for the most part. Maybe more on this another time...

Went to the other photog meeting and I was the only one to show. The organizer, Joe, and I talked about each others' work. When I mention that a picture I took would be great to submit to the Literary LEO, he tells me the deadline is the next afternoon. Dammit. No time to get it printed, mailed, etc. Oh well.

Friday night I got off work early to go to the holiday party. Everything was different this year. In previous years the group stuck together whereas this year the managers sat and ate at one table while the employees, me and two other girls, sat at another. If not for the free food and drink, I would say the whole of it was a sham. I did realize my actual friends in the company as opposed to all the other fair-weather fowl there. The realization that more people dislike me than I thought or imagined was disheartening at best. I know: why should I care, right? I don't have an answer except to say that the feeling that the rest of the world hates you is not a good one. I felt more hollowed-out than I've been in a while. Lonely. Left out. Went home. Got on the Internet.

Nothing much to report on this past Saturday. Got up, made breakfast, took care of some stuff, made Roy watch “Inception.” Today, Sunday, had my photowalk in which Kathy came along. It's freezing cold and snowing but she came out anyway. I don't know if she's crazy or crazy about me but she's cool and a female version of me in a lot of ways. I am in a quandary as to how to go about things with her. Guess I'll figure it out eventually.

Constant Motion, Sudden Stop

It's about 1am as I'm typing this and I've finished my photo editing for the night. The great thing about writing at this point in time is that the world has settled into quiet and I, again, am trying to make sense of it all. I seriously need a vacation.

A look back at the week that was...

Sunday and I busted my ass to get all the crap outta my apartment. I started cleaning and around 1 my friend Dean called and I talked with him for a few. By 2:45 I was cleaning again when my uncle called and told me he was coming over. I kicked into high-gear and got as much as I could done (which still wasn't a lot...) He sat in a chair, got bored, etc. Other than that by 5 o'clock the apartment was empty. I closed my door. Last I'll see of the inside to that place...

Monday night I went to exercise and afterward stopped by to pay back apartment guru Bob. We talked a little about my exploits and then he told me about his. I then went up, got a coffee from the Gardiner Ln Heine Bros and drove home.

Thursday night. Drove down to the Highlands to get drunk and do trivia. On the way I was coming down from a buzz when a semi-truck, not seeing me in the right hand lane, decided to merge into mine. He bumped the rear left part of my car which pushed me forward. The car pulls to the left and -SLAM!- it's flat front hits the area above my rear left wheel. I lose control of the car and it spins across I-64. Hitting the soft, marshy ditch area the wheels are spinning so fast I'm kicking up sod like the General Lee. My car is turning to the left and I see all the oncoming traffic. I grab the steering wheel and pull it to the right, tearing more grass in the ditch and heading straight into the guard pole.

“-DUNN!”

The car hits the post and stops. I back the car up a foot, turn the blinkers on, leave the light on, and cut the engine off. I get out of the car and look around. The semi-truck driver stopped on the right side of the interstate and came running over to me while carefully navigating through 60+ mph traffic.

“Are you okay?”

I'm shaken up. I'm pissed. I know that I tell him this but don't really remember what I said. All I knew was that I was standing in the cold and had just been in an accident. Shock had set in and I was five worlds away...

I got back into my car and sat, turning on the blinkers and the headlights. A moment later a guy walks up and knocks on the window and asks if I'm okay and what happened. I get out and tell him what happened and he says the police will be there shortly as he goes to question the truck driver. Getting back into his Bronco-type white vehicle I imagine that he “calls it in.” He waits until the police show and takes off.

The police. This guy, stocky build with white hair and shorter than me, pulls up to where my car is at. Getting out he approaches me with a demeanor that says that I've inconvenienced him.

“What happened?”

I try telling the story and he cuts me off as if what I said wasn't important. Yes, I'm still in shock. He turns to the truck driver and asks him the same question then looks at my car for any external damage before asking me again. I quickly reply: “I was in the right hand lane. He didn't see me, pulls into mine, and bumps my car. The car goes left. He hit me. I spin, wind up in the ditch and stop by hitting the pole.” He stares back at me not having expected the truncated version of the story. He turns to the truck driver and asks him for info which the truck driver offers to go back to his vehicle and get.

The battery on my car dies. The truck driver returns with his info and I give what I have to the officer. The officer takes down my info and asks the truck driver if he agrees with my story and he does. The truck driver proceeds to take pictures of the vehicle and the damage.

“Have you called a towing company?”

I am in the middle of a ditch after having spun out in my car. My phone is a craptacular one I got about 3 years ago when I signed up for a cellphone. I don't have AAA service. Pass the vaseline...

The cop gets back into his vehicle and a female officer comes over. She talks with him and writes some stuff up. She asks me something then gives me a card -my incident/accident report number. She asks me if I've called a towing company. I get out my cellphone and dial 411.

If there's anything I remember truly, clearly, it's standing in the ditch being pelted by hail while trying to call towing companies. The first said no, they would have to wait until morning. The second didn't answer me. The third the guy was a jerk.

I call my uncle and tell him I've been in an accident and can he come and help me out. Yes, I'm fine. Yes, the car is still intact. The police are there, etc.

I walk over to the male officer and he's sitting there like he doesn't have shit to do. A laptop computer sits to his side and I swear that is has the step-by-step instructions on how to deal with the situation. Good to know training got him far enough that he could find the Help function on his PC. I tell him that I have someone to come and help me out or at least get me home. As a favor of sorts he gives me the number for AAA. I call them and no, I don't have AAA service. My call is transferred to a “sub station” the rings constant until the fax machine picks it up. I ask him how long the car can stay there. “This is a bad area. It needs out immediately.” Bad area? There are no residences close to the highway and most people are doing 70 on it. He suggests getting it towed and that if the police were to tow it runs $65 a day. The female cop sits in her car, still behind his. I ask how much longer this will take and he replies,

“This is hers. We're waiting on her.”

The truck driver walks up to the window and asks if he has a jump box. The cop says “Sure,” gets out, and we walk over to my car. The hood is already popped open from earlier and I get inside and turn the engine while they try the jump box. After the fourth try it works and I reposition the car.

My uncle shows and he's surprised -no real damage to the car. We talk for a moment before walking back to the cop. I tell him that my uncle is going to follow me home and ask if there's anything else. “No, we're just waiting on her.” She takes off and he wonders where she's off to before taking off himself.

I get the car back home and it's okay for the moment. I have to wait until morning to call my insurance, etc. I rant about how bad a dumbass the cop was, getting hit, etc. before going to bed.

The next day I call the insurance company. Seeing as I had liability only I'll have to talk with the trucking company. My report can be accessed by going online and downloading it for $10 or going in person downtown and paying $5, How it goes, how it goes...

Introspection on an Empty Apartment

When we last left the “Chas Show”...

INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – EVENING

Light is barely visible in an open, spacious, abandoned warehouse. The railing of an old wooden staircase can somewhat be seen. The SOUND of GUNSHOTS outside ring and vibrate the aluminum siding walls. In rush CHAS and EDUARDO.

CHAS

Where the fuck did they come from?

EDUARDO

You got me, amigo.

CHAS

And what the fuck do you think that you were doing?

Trying to 'cook some fools' or somethin'?

EDUARDO

(catches his breath) Sid is dead.

CHAS

I KNOW Sid is dead. What about Eric?

EDUARDO

Taken hostage by Wendy.

CHAS

Wendy? Dammit!

Chas takes out his piece and racks the 9mm's slide.

CHAS

This shit just got real...

EDUARDO

Gonna make a deal?

CHAS

In fuckin' blood, buddy.

EDUARDO

You can always talk with Norma...

CHAS

And sell my soul? Nuh-uh compadre.

It's mano e-mano time and someone's not comin' home for the holidays...

And now Part Two of “Buechel Livin'”

Hope you enjoyed that one, folks. Always love to leave my audience captivated :)

I'm sitting on my futon in the living room of my new living space: an apartment I'm sharing with my uncle. We'll see how things go. Right now my bedroom feels like the leftover closet that people forget stuff is in. I have to literally make my way through a maze of stacks of stuff to get to my bed which is now a single. I kinda miss my queen-size mattress (which wound up being slashed within minutes of leaving it next to a garbage bin). I'm listening to Martini in the Morning (great jazz channel you can find online. Look it up.) And just trying to think.

Clearly. I can't remember when I last thought clearly.

I'm getting sleep which is good. I can go to sleep by 2am and wake up at 8 feeling better than when I was in Buechel. I'm attributing that to moving away from Bardstown Road. My stress level has significantly lowered but I'm still having problems dealing with my job.

Okay, this is the thing: my job killed two of my relationships (not THE reason but it didn't help them). Why did I spend so much time destroying myself? Inquiring minds might like to know but the truth is change. My mind works on patterns and once something becomes accepted, no matter how bad it is, I just get used to it. I'm more an intellectual person than emotional per se so I don't consider a job good or bad -it is whatever it is. I stay as long as I need the money to survive and then leave at whatever point I generally want to. I shouldn't be this way. I still go back to Deanna asking me if I wanted my life to pay for my art or my art to pay for my life. I would like my art to pay for my life but I have to have faith in it. To believe in what I'm doing. And I feel damned lost on that notion.

Sorta misplaced. Living on the outside. Like no one is letting me in.

So there's a lot of things going on right now. First off I'm still blogging for entities and I've been seriously cutting back on that because of frustrations with the rules, software platforms, etc. That and the fact that I need time away and so I'm figuring an article here or there won't hurt. There's not too much film stuff in Louisville to expound upon so I'm limited on Louisville.com and I like my more “intellectual” blogs to be on WLKY uLocal. I haven't even kept up with other blog stuff.

Which brings me to another point: getting back into the swing of what I want to do. I need to setup my own website which I will operate the Neverending Highway blog through, as well as my photography and even a side thing for reviews. I'm planning on taking a course through MatadorU on travel writing and photography and that's what I'm looking into right now.

However, my friend Dean brought up an interesting point: how long will his last? I've been fighting the whole “hiatus from the world of film” for a while (note: too much bullshit) and went back to the basics of what I enjoy: writing and photography. Generally this leans toward journalism but I'm not a fan of the cynicism; that “well, it's all crap anyway” nudge that's the undercurrent of journalistic sentences. I just wanted to tell stories and be good at it. I wanted to explore the world and find myself. I wanted to be cool.

Right now I'm detoxing from my previous life here; the last 3 years. I'm probably not going to go to the Gardiner Lane Heine Bros. (aka Chas' coffeeshop) until Saturday or Sunday. This is probably for the best seeing as Jennifer (aka The Ex) is there on Tuesday nights studying. I think back to all the exploits at my place and... yeah. The times. I think the next few weeks are gonna be rough but I have to get my head on straight and just deal. Figure things out. Know what I want and what I won't put up with.

To be continued...

Goodbye Bardstown Rd...

Blink. Blink. Blink.

This cursor stares at me while I try figuring out what to say, how to elaborate the goings-on of my life. Outside the world is dark. Quiet. The Sunday night before Turkey Day and a calm permeates the storm I sit in the eye of.

Strike that. Not a storm. Change.

I think back to when I ran into Julia at the Borders. I was going to grab a mocha from Heine Bros in the Gardiner Lane plaza and saw her enter the bookstore. Making a beeline over to it I went inside and struck up a conversation with her and told her I was moving. I relayed how my entire childhood revolved around this area. She said that she understood and if she were still living in her hometown she wouldn't be able to stand it either.

Growing up in Beuchel. The Showcase Cinemas, where I first saw “Bram Stoker's 'Dracula'” and a score of other movies as well as working there as a janitor one summer, is now rubble being carefully combed-over by construction vehicles since it couldn't be made into a viable movie theater again. Bashford Manor Mall where I would go see what was new in Something To Do or play in Aladdin’s Castle (the arcade) was intentionally ran down and eventually imploded. Now the land is occupied by a Lowe's, Wal-Mart, Taco Bell, and Burlington Coat Factory. The Bon Air Swim Club where my cousins worked during the summer closed down due to the contract with the owners expiring and the ones leasing the land not wanting to rent the parking lot to the pool. Now it sits like a forgotten warehouse surrounded by low-income housing on the cheap side of gentrification.

I sit here tonight in the remains of my last days in Beuchel. Like Billy Pilgrim becoming unstuck in time I am unstuck in my memories. My life ended here in 1996 but became resurrected between 1999 and 2004 and then died again to be brought back in 2007. And for everything I've had to learn, every bit of life that I've been force-feeding myself because I just didn't pick it up during Round One, my friends, I have to leave this place.

I'm glad at the same moment of being sad. I've rallied my life against creature comforts (okay, yes, the movie geek setup I confess to having) and this place grew on me. The more I wanted to go the more it seemed to pull me in and I would find reasons to stay instead of moving on. As fate or fortune would have it my uncle moved back into the area and offered to help me out by letting me move over to his place. I thought about it, the good outweighed the bad, and said “Yes.”

The remains. Books. Some DVDs. Trash. Dishes. Stuff in the fridge most of which can be thrown away. I'm giving myself until Saturday to vacate.

And the change isn't just moving to a separate side of town. It's me figuring out what the next move is. I don't know if I'm done with dating in this place or dating period but it seems the more I try to find somebody the more I miss Jennifer. Maybe because she was the smartest woman I've had an extended relationship with. Maybe it's because she gave me my freedom to be me. I've just not found those qualities in any woman since her. And no I'm not expecting any or every woman to measure up to her (because the rules vary per person) but my checklist is becoming more defined and seeing what's out there has an interesting set of misadventures which leaves me thinking about her. And yes I'm sure several of my friends would gladly punch me in the face should I backtrack and go back to her.

The change isn't just about figuring out what I want from a relationship if I have any. Entertainment blogging burnt me out and I just ceded away from it. In fact my job has me burnt out and I've been ceding away from humanity a bit. This isn't an afront to anyone so much as when I think I understand it all everything changes again. People want to know what I want and my answer has been “Let me out. Let me go.”

I've been asking myself what it is that I truly like or even love. Aside from music and movies. Travel. No, I'm not rich but I miss being on the road, taking pictures, and writing/blogging back about my adventures like you don't know. Maybe that IS my purpose...

So I'm proposing an idea which is quaint in humor because I seem to ask people what they think of my good ideas as if they are bad and vice-versa. I'm going to go on a sabbatical in June and hopefully going to spend 2 months in New York City (“New York City?!?”) and taking a course in travel writing from an instructor and learn how to get into travel writing/photography. The Neverending Highway...

I'm trying to piece together how I'm going to pull it off (donations anyone?) I'm not so much scared to go as how to make it work in NYC for 2 months. Maybe subletting or finding a hostel to stay in. The overall truth, if it does so exist, is that I have to hit the road again.

And I know and realize there are no guarantees which is easier to write and say than actually quantify. Or rectify if need be. I know my problems of when I went to stay in California but going to NYC is not to stay as it is an opportunity I want/need to make for myself. Maybe the answers I am looking for are there. Maybe not. But it isn't just about finding answers as it is something to kickstart me into something I think I'm good at doing that I miss. And it's not forever but the highway IS neverending. I just have to get back on it.

Goodbye childhood memories. Goodbye Buechel. Goodbye Bardstown Road.

A Smile From the Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

“It seems like yesterday

But it was long ago...” -Bob Seger

Tuesday night. I had just gotten off work, dropped off my badge and stuff at my apartment and had a little bit of time to grab some coffee from Heine Bros. up the street. 6:50 I walk down to my car and go up to the coffeeshop. The first entrance was too crowded so I took the roundabout second into the lot and drove down to it. As I rounded a group of cars to find an open parking space I spotted a car.

Blue Hyundai Accent. Indiana plates. Really familiar.

I parked and walked up to the double glass doorway but saw her before I was even 100 feet from my car. Jennifer. She sat alone at a table looking through a book; was probably doing homework. I got up to the doorway and stopped. My heart pounded like the diesel engine of a U-boat evading capture. I wanted to turn around. Maybe take the drive-thru. I decided against it and opened the door. Briskly I beelined to the front counter and gave my usual order: medium mocha, no whipped cream, hot. While they were making it I cooled down for a moment and made a decision.

I had to talk with her.

It didn't matter what I was going to say. John wasn't around or there as far as I could tell and I had no idea if I would ever see her again. Call me crazy but it had been eating me up not talking with her.

My coffee was done so I grabbed it and walked along the wall and turned toward her table. I think she saw me and delved back into her book, writing in the journal beside her. I went over to her table looked down and said “Hi.”

(I'm going to interject here for a moment. We all have that “If I saw this person again I would...” moments. It's only human. God knows I've had multiple imaginary conversations in regards to her...)

She looked up and responded. I asked what she was doing, how she was doing, etc. I told her that I was on my way to see a movie and stopped in for some coffee. We were cordial. She smiled a few times and I told her that I had to go but it was nice seeing her. She paused for a moment, looked up and said, “You too,” and went back to doing her work. I left and looked back once or twice to see her attention on what she was working on.

And so I can close this book for now. She wasn't livid when she saw me; she was actually being nice. I think she was happy to see me. She's one of the smartest I've ever been with.

As I've said before: take the good things.

“And her memory is all that's left for you now...” -Fleetwood Mac