The Summer's (Almost) Out of Reach

Oh, little online diary... How is everyone out there? Anyone still reading this?

A lot of things have been going on in my world. I almost wrote a blog called, “Notes on Not Turning 40” and it still resides somewhere in my laptop. I'm not going to call it back up or cheat ya by doing the copy-and-paste but then how would you know?

Ahem.

Well, I'm not 40 so I guess that's a good thing. I have three friends that I know turned 40 this year: Julia, Jamie, and Tamara. Julia's birthday is a week after mine while Jamie's and Tamara's were within days of each other. I spent some serious bank on hanging out with both of them; no regrets.

I wanted to write a column in which I allude to those things that I've learned but I think I'll save that for my end-of-year wrap-up. I recall turning 25 and blathering about what all I've learned in life up to that point and now it seems I learn, or relearn, things yearly. If there's anything I can say for sure it's that I'm a guy who's 34 but passes for late 20s which causes a little bit of issue when the only available girls are in their twenties and there is a little bit of a “creepy” factor when you're toward your mid-thirties and aside from a bunch of stuff have nothing of status to show for it. I'm more than a man-child but less than the “responsible” single parent 30s male. How it goes I do suppose...

So... I'm talking on the phone with my mom tonight who informs me that my sister is under a lot of stress. Apparently she's lonely as well and lumps all of her brothers and her uncle (ergo, my roomie) into the “helplessly single” category that she doesn't want to be in. Hey, each of our stories are different and for what it's worth my brothers have the “steady” girlfriends. My own story is a bit more complicated.

I've been watching a lot of movies lately; more than at any other point of the summer. In the space of a week I watched “Mirage” (with Gregory Peck), “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” “Diabolique,” “Ed Wood,” and “Panic Room.” “Mirage” had some interesting ideas but fell into aging itself by its end in delivering a heavy-handed moral message that today's society wouldn't stop for a second to receive. “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” proved that damn, dirty CGI apes could provide the backdrop for an interesting drama and sign me up for whatever is next in the series. “Diabolique” is a French film that has been called “the movie Hitchcock never made” (trivia: someone beat him to getting the rights to adapt the book for cinema) and has one of the best twist endings I've ever seen. “Ed Wood,” is a beautiful black-and-white jaunt back to the 50s cinema and the touted “worst director of all time,” Edward D. Wood, Jr. (although I think Uwe Boll may have him outdone). “Panic Room” I had watched a decade ago and, having seen director Fincher's previous fare, “Fight Club,” I was not overly impressed. My friends and I wrote it off as being an “apology” to the women of Hollywood and media for the misogyny of “Fight Club.” That may have been so at the time. Removed from that point in time “Panic Room” is an intelligent, well-crafted drama that I appreciate more now than I thought I would. Some movies are just ahead of their time...

Oh yeah. I almost forgot. The “employment” thing. I've been searching for jobs through sites such as Monster.com, Careerbuilder.com, and Mediabistro. Added to this is figuring out how to market myself (more than ground chuck, less than prime cut) and figuring out the freelancing world. Which brings me to...

Focusing. This has been my problem for the past few months. While May and June were essentially the “freefall” from being fired, and July became my vacation and getting sick from a tooth infection, by August I'm fine and trying to “pull myself up from my bootstraps.” What did I want? A life where I could go to a coffeeshop with my laptop and work for a while then go home and do whatever. Well, I have that minus the cashflow coming in. In the “venture forth” ideology just because you bought the ticket and are standing in the station doesn't mean you're guaranteed to go anywhere – you still have to board the train. Here's to hoping I get a good seat.

I keep thinking back to my life before my trip. The big question then, during, and after is, “What next?” My friends Cheryl and Rob and a few others want to know my next move. At best all I can tell them is that wherever I get an opportunity is where I'm going whether it's Chicago, Seattle, New York, or L.A. (will also consider Denver) That's the best answer that I have.

Other things on my mind tonight: a friend and I were talking the other night and we got into a discussion about personal politics. I can see how other people relate to other people and the implications of such but as for myself I don't/can't play the political game. I spent some offtime mulling this one over and I think back to my foray into the politics of people: SPC-TV. While in college I was part of a student run TV station and witnessed firsthand what happens when people get, lose, take, and receive power. The little bit of “power” that I had came from the fact that I wasn't afraid to call out those who abused it and I had been respected by the advisors and thereby had an “untouchable” status. I was jabbed at other ways and have learned a few things from it such as never conceding when you're down because the wolves are more than eager to rip you apart. Sometimes I question the idea of responsibility in leadership when those who come into power often have no concept of such; no consequence nor conviction I guess. Maybe the answer is to say, “Fuck it,” and beg, borrow, and steal. I don't want to believe it but that's the direction the train is rolling to.

As I tell my friends this is the part where I take the conversation offramp. I got a lot of things churning around in my head tonight and can't articulate any more for the time being.

Adventures with Michael Episode 1: Outside the Back Door

For those of you who are non-locals there's a bar in Louisville called The Back Door. No, it's not a gay reference; it's the most neutral bar in the area. Residing on the east side of the MidCity Mall it's a bar where most of the locals, especially those living in the Highlands, congregate. No matter creed, color, age, or orientation the Back Door serves anyone and everyone in-between. The drinks are fairly cheaper than other bars and their pub menu is pretty good. I recommend the Door Knobs (fried breaded mushrooms).

Saturday night's adventure started around 1am. We had previously came from a friend's birthday party held at a farm in Canmer, KY which found us traveling the first twenty minutes with fog on the windshield that didn't want to go away. Arriving in Hikes Point after midnight we went to McDonald's and “shot the shit” outside before driving over to the bar.

It was packed. I managed to wrangle a booth that apparently sat three people before us. Michael stood in line waiting to order some beer while I sat in the booth. A while later he showed at the table with a pitcher of beer.

“Ever have Falls City?”

“No,” I replied.

“Well, they ran out of Stella. Ever have Oberon?”

“No.”

“Well, I asked what else they had. I asked them if it tasted anything like Stella and they said, 'No.' So I ordered this.”

I wasn't a fan of it. However, I wanted to get drunk. I had spent most of the rest of the day in the sun at the farm going through 5/6^th of the bottled Schlafly that I picked up and still didn't feel drunk. I'm diabetic. What was up with that?

We're sitting in the booth people-watching. He cracks a joke every now and then but my mind is elsewhere. I don't know the location. Michael points out a blond woman standing next to a group of guys who are taller and more muscular. The blond is flirting between two guys. She's older and is wearing a ring on her ring finger.

“Y'see her? She still thinks she has it. Back in the day I bet she was something. She still thinks she is but her chest dropped years ago. She's still trying to hold onto the idea.”

The sound in the room is from the volume of people talking and the amount of people inside. Michael is surprised by the fact that back in the day he could go there and it was a quiet bar – not anymore. I nod and agree still off in my mind somewhere.

Now I'll point out two women who'll come into play later. The first is a young girl – 5'2” at best, white shirt, red mini-skirt, with high heels to match her short, jet black hair. The second woman is a little older with brunette hair, leopard blouse hugging her curves, white skirt, and tan high heels who moves like she has the money to or is in search of it.

Nothing important really happens for a while. I put in an order for the Door Knobs (fried breaded mushrooms) and we sit and eat them. After Michael is dying for a cigarette so I point him to the outside smoking section. He asks if I'm going to follow and I just want to sit there and finish the drink I have in front of me. I do so and walk into the smoking area and speak with him. We then decide it's time to go.

The next, friends, is a lesson in watching the human condition.

Our cars being parked next to each other we stood beside them talking. Michael goes through a few cigarettes while I relate the fact that I don't know what the hell is up with me – part of me just wants to be alone and I don't know why. Maybe my natural defense for being alone. Again, I'm relaying this while standing next to the two cars that came in together: a four-door sedan and a sport-utility one. Three girls had poured out of them earlier when we were walking from the lot toward the bar. Suddenly, one of the girls walks to her car. She's short in a straight black dress with pinned-up brunette hair and glasses. Michael starts talking to her:

“Wow, that was quick. Are you good to go home?”

“Yes,” she said as she opened her car door.

“Not even drunk. In this town that's a rare flower.”

She stops. “Yes. A rare flower.” She shuts the door, cranks the engine, and takes off.

Michael turns to me. “Remember how she came with two other girls? She's not getting laid tonight and she's pissed about that.”

Some time later one of the other girls comes out and gets into her sports-utility vehicle. Michael says something and she smiles. He turns to me and says something about her being upset and not getting laid either when a guy pulls up in a small, white car and rolls down the window, talking with her. They drive off together.

“I'm thinking that the other girl got to go home with someone else. That girl is pissed upset about her choice.”

A couple walk toward us: a black man and a blond-haired woman. The woman banks left while the guy approaches us. He asks us if we like the Nappy Roots and proceeds to sing us a song. After completing we tell him that we don't have any change. He proceeds to sing us another song when a white van pulls up and calls for him. He runs toward it and it leaves.

Minutes later a blond wearing a thin, gray shirt and black “skorts” walks up to us. She's cute but pretty drunk. She tells us her name but we get it incorrect. I ask her questions that she avoids directly answering. She leaves us to go inside the Back Door.

The girl with the jet black hair and red miniskirt walks outside the bar with a group of friends. She walks over to a four-door sedan and gets inside while a few others pile in the car. A tall, lanky guy in a white t-shirt and shorts almost gets in the car when a group of friends shouts, “Hey Drew! Don't fuck her!” He runs from the car over to the group of guys who shouted at him. Michael says that the guy looks like a marionette. A girl in a black-and-white striped minidress runs to the car and crowds in from the right side. The guy runs back and gets into the left hand side and the car takes off.

A group of guys gets into a large, red Ford F-150 and begins to leave the parking lot when the brunette I mentioned earlier, along with a blond friend, approach the truck and make it stop. The blond starts bartering with the guys inside and the brunette says, “Because I have never been to a White Castle before.” They're let in and the truck takes off.

Michael and I try getting the drunk blond girl's name right. I think it's “Stasha.” Michael says that she may be Russian or Eastern Bloc. She passes by us another time, waving as she leaves the parking lot.

A guy walks out to his car parked two spaces up from us. He's tall, thin, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Michael says something about the guy going home alone. He shrugs as if luck is against him for the night.

“Man, are you a model or something? You should be a model,” Michael tells him.

A friend walks up to the guy standing next to his car and gets into his jeep. They take off for somewhere.

I mention the fact that it's been a weird night because none of the chicks in the bar seemed to notice me. His reply was that it seemed that most of them were after the taller and more muscular guys who were in there. I see the point of truth in that and realize that is one of the only times when I've been to that bar and watched that happen.

The drunk blond girl returns and we wave her over to us. Michael asks if she's looking for a boy and she shrugs. Held in her hand is an empty pack of American Spirit cigarettes. Stasha stands next to me for a moment before leaving for the Back Door again. Michael comments that she's a “lost soul.” We call it a night and leave.

Hey Look! A New Blog Post!

It's a beautiful, lazy Sunday here in Chaslandia (I'm petitioning Google to put it on a map). I look at my personal blog and it's been over a month since I've posted anything. In fact the last posting found me burnt out and tired of damn near everything around me. So let's catch up, shall we?

July 1 – July 15 I went on a two-week long trip. I spent a few days with my friend Rob and his wife Vicky and kid Elijah in Warrenville, IL (about an hour outside Chicago). Being so wrapped-up in my own life it was nice to be out with friends and not have to worry about the rest of the bullshit surrounding me. July 4^th I finally went to the top of the Sears/Willis Tower for the first time. It's amazing.

July 5 – 7 I took a series of buses out to Seattle, WA. My trip in which initially had the veneer of being a business trip became personal and I practiced the art of “just being.” Just being me. It made all the difference in the world. I blew through money, did a few things I didn't think I would (spent $110 at a Deja Vu), and walked around Seattle. A lot. I enjoyed myself and didn't mind the rest of the world.

July 15^th I returned to my life in the ebb of the West Coast vibe. At the very least the world had changed temperature and it was friggin' hot. For the first week back I felt like a stranger in my native land as if my happiness was now looked down upon. It was odd.

It's been a month solid that I've been back and the world has settled down. In the interim I met John Carpenter (“The Fog,” “Halloween,” “In the Mouth of Madness”) and walked by Henry Winkler a few times. I gained a new FB friend named Syntheia. I returned to the film group that I formed and have been seeing what I can do/be with them. To cap everything off I had a tooth infection which led me to be “down” for a few days and to a $1200 combo root canal/crown.

But the world isn't completely horrible. Yes, it's been 3 months since I was let go. Yes, I'm out a little bit of money. Yes, I've been applying and haven't had any callbacks or interviews. No, all is not lost.