Lost Post
I realized I forgot to post this.... it has been written for a long while...
It was an early morning, and the frost on my windshield never quite faded with the weak winter morning sun. I had packed my water, a fleece, and a camera. If I was going to sacrifice my body to my youth, I wanted it in both print and video form.
I hitched a ride with Jon, fumbling with the video camera the whole way. And recording Jess’s legendary jalapeno Mc Donald’s bathroom shit.
It was glorious.
It was far from my mind when I rode up the ramp I wouldn’t have been able to get past just two hours earlier. It had been a slow start, but now that I could mount the burms, I felt a little confidence. And I hadn’t gotten hurt yet… I was still counting on it.
I knew it was time for the test. What kind of mettle was I made out of if I could drive two hours and ride around with out ever doing anything that was really outside my comfort zone. Besides, what could happen, it was foam, right?
When I started pedaling down the first ramp to make it up the second, I wasn’t thinking about what would happen when I crested the ramp. I wasn’t thinking of how to hold the bike, or to get more air. I couldn’t. I had never done anything of the sort before. Melissas don’t like to fly through the air all willy-nilly, but that’s just what I did.
Thank you Jess.
Blog.
Blog. Bloggity blog blog blog.
Where have all the good bloggers gone?
Where have all the good bloggers gone? Not that I 'm helping the situation out any, and I know many of us are sitting on some cool happenings as I type, but is there nothing else out there? Are we all truely that sad? May actual adventures follow.
Outta Gas?
Well here we are crusing down the Ohio Turnpike headed to Ray's. Cleveland here we come.... Or are we. Im driving a huge beast of a trailer behind a vehical which shouldnt be towing it. Its the Aztec versus the fuel gauge. As we come up on a service center i look down and see 1/4 tank. We got enough. So we venture on and the needle is falling at a visuable rate. Ding. The light comes on. Ok we'll make it to the next one. 10, 15, 20 minutes, it starts to become an eternity. I get behind a semi to draft and save as much as I can. We start to roll through some gradual hills and i feel the engine sputter. Back on the gas again the road flattens out and we see the next station in 6miles. now i dont honestly think we are going to make it but like i have a chioce. " Are we gonna make it??" comes the voices from the back. "Dont make me turn this Damn!! vehical around into on coming traffic!!!" ok we have an exit in 1 mile and the station in 4 miles. Ok.... "No Service This Exit" reads the sign. Ok here we go. Sputter Sputter....... the exit ramp..... sputter sputter, which way to the pumps, sputter sputter.....
Where have all the adventures gone?
This weekend ought to prove to be an adventurous one. I'm hoping that many may have something to write. If not then I'll create something to write the following weekend. Anyways....
Here's how i picture it going
[Matt:] Hey bra, how we doin' man?
[Karl:] All right.
[Matt:] It's been a while man, life's so rad!
This band's my favorite man, don't ya love 'em?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Aw man, you want a beer?
[Karl:] All right.
[Matt:] Aw man, this is the best. I'm so glad we're all
back together and stuff.
This is great, man.
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Hey, did you know about the party after the show?
[Karl:] Yeah.
[Matt:] Aw man, it's gonna be the best, I'm so stoked!
Take it easy bra'.
A box of wine or a can of cheese anyone?
I had been on the road for what seemed like ages. I checked the clock-stereo. Damn, a full seven minutes already. The drive was the worst. Slowly the incandescent lights were replaced by the gritty, grimy glitz of neon. On the distance I spotted it. The lights blinked fast and slow, red, blue, and orange. I had made it to the landmark, as famous as the neon cowboy from that other strip – It was the signpost at the Ypsi-Arbor Bowl. I had finally hit the big-time.
Down the street I was an expected VIP at a posh and exclusive residence. I knew the wine list would be extensive, if not impressive – and my instincts weren’t off. The night started on a wild note: Hawaiian Blue Wine. This place was high class up to its arm-pits.
They even borrowed wine glasses for the occasion. Women battled the men in the ultimate gamble – and won on account of that illustrious celeb Mr. Tom Cruise. We kicked him to the curb and won our liberation; we ate our weight in cheese and cinnamon rolls. I don’t kid about these serious matters; like I said – it was one classy affair.
I ended the night with that damn interminable drive home, a few pounds heavier, a lot sleepier, and with the scent of freshly sprung dog (and Jess) farts lining my nostrils. Like all good hosts, I was left with a memento from the night.
He set off on a mission. One that would last only 24 hours of his young life. He was going to test the limits of his own body.
Jess wanted to see how many calories he could eat in a 24 hour period. He started around 10:30 thursday night, and now, at 10:00 friday night, I fear his journey has come to an end.
I saw him drink a Red Bull and a 'Mind Fuel' energy drink, yet he is fast asleep.
With only half an hour left, I don't think he'll get to those brownies I made him. Anyone coming tomorrow, it will now be a Wine and Cheese and Brownie party.
UPDATE: I was wrong, he had until 11:30, and he's awake, who knows how this will turn out...
Oh, and I have everything he ate in my diet analysis program from my nutrition class, it won't know what to think.
Adventure are sure to come.
This is more of a prediction of adventures and stories to come......
On a nice warm January night (just like tonight) many people gather at the headquarters for some festivities......
Wine and cheese is abundent and flows like the mane of the beast. Topics are random and very ill thought out, and yet everyone enjoys the conversation. I see someone getting brusied and battered.... Oh wait, it's just Matt....... An now for some flames. I see big flames, oh boy Jon just lost a rib. And a very attractive female, who also happens to be single. And as for me...... Cheese, wine....... and my shear ignorance of the obvious. Lets see what happens.....
Melissa in disguise
My most recent adventure was yesterday when I had to refer to young Melissa repeatedly in order to explain my past and current behavior as well as the future possible/suggested behavior of others. Sitting with a young girl, I was asked what possible purpose could be served by passing on reams of historical data to a new coach. It was a struggle just to decide where to begin my response. Oh, I knew I would use a blatant example of Melissa, but then my mind wandered and settled on wondering what Melissa would think of me giving away reams of data that, were afterall, about her and would perhaps someday be reinterpreted by someone who never met her. Also, the passing of the data was a clear closing of a door and Melissa already explained her reservations about that. But, of course, with all her other current tribulations, would this even factor in? Naw. So I again, for the hundreth time, (each one more exciting the the previous) told the young lady the tale of a simultaneously post and pre-CP Melissa valiantly attempting a heroic run through Byram Park (Linden) only to come up a breath short (Melissa, not me). Complete with actual photos (finish line pic with time clock showing included in the set!) , finish results, comparisons, and other material I told a riveting story about life, love, loyalty, and all else that is holy and good. The young lass to whom I was speaking, was not moved and simply replied "Yea, I know, but why would the new coach want this". Perhaps subconsciously, she even went so far as to leave the material sitting on my table when she left instead of delivering it.
Before that, I just couldn't find Jon despite calls to his home and multiple hours at his work.
For the record, I kept pics, videos and anything else that matters, but passed on all official records of contests.
A story because I can't sleep
Hope. Is like a chronic injury. Pounding on it day after day causes it to hurt even when I don’t think I am using it. Hope. Makes me smile and then cry.
I promised someone something ages ago. Nerve-wracking to get things going again. Somehow I found myself driving north on the highway that night during the snowstorm that always follows the January Thaw. That morning I saw my neighbor running in cotton terry baby-blue shorts. She waved to me as I got the paper from the bin at the front porch.
I walked back up through the hall that was much too warm since the weather had taken to acting up over the past week. I set the paper down on my counter and looked at the small apartment. Boxes lined the walls – but I had managed to unpack the kitchen. Instead of utilizing the work, I settled on a bowl of cereal before realizing I didn’t have any milk.
Water and cereal make for a bad start to any day. I had moved in the afternoon before and was awed to see that I managed to pack up as many boxes as I did. I never realized there was so much that I had been living without the past year.
The best way to get over something is to go abroad. At least it worked in a movie I saw – several actually. In my case it only served as a distraction. The something found me, indirectly, after I got back to the states.
A postcard had managed its way to my parent’s house. I got it last week. Six months after it was sent. There wasn’t anything particularly important about it, except that somewhere in-between the buildings that lined the old down town I found an opportunity.
It was a chance I never took when I should have. Life stops and restarts, resets and reasserts itself. After a year abroad, I finally understood that it was ok for me to, as well.
Thinking about the postcard, I dug through a box marked “College” and dragged the dusty book out. It was all I had left, and I felt like trading it in.
So that day I left my boxes half opened and unemptied to make an unexpected trip. His parents were shocked that he should have a visitor here. He only showed up for holidays anymore. His mother was hesitant to give out an address, she didn’t recognize me after all; we only met once anyway.
I started on the road after lunch and ended up visiting with an old friend along the way. She smiled at me. Who wouldn’t at such a long-shot? Four hours is a bit much to drive, and a lot of pressure for a book I could have left with his mother. When I left my friend, with promises that I would fill her in on the story, we had both neglected to discuss anything that had happened in the long year we had been apart. Such is hope. It clouds vision too.
But after just a few minutes the snow was rolling and dancing across the highway. Things had turned slick in the time I had been off the road, and the trees – so vulnerable at the thought of spring – had to take hold and bear the freeze. Those that bloomed too early faced a tough spring, and those that were too brittle had limbs all over the road.
Cars moved like slow, white cattle and three hours soon stretched into five. I looked over at the book, still dusty except for my finger-marks, and wondered what was worth this. How would he view this – crazy is how. Crazy was how I felt. I had been back for just over a week. I was barely over the jet-lag, and the temperature change was killing me. At least I would have a nice tan when I met him.
I looked down at the address his mother had scrawled. By now she would have called her son. Would he know it was me? Perhaps he would assume I’d mail the book. Maybe he would imagine I’d drive up at some point – but not that very day.
The great thing about unemployment is that time isn’t a commodity. It is, instead, just a concept of how you divide the world. Who cares about five or six hours (even if they turn into half a day or longer), it was a wild exciting chance to take. My once-in-a-lifetime moment. I was making up for something I should have done long ago, something sensibility and society frowned on.
Frown on.
I’ll smile until it is time to join society in that endeavor.
The directions indicated a right turn, but really it turned out to be a left. I found a place to park the icicled car. It dropped a little slush as I slammed the red door.
I brushed off the dust from its jacket with my furry gloves as I made my way to the entranceway. What if he wasn’t home? I would have to drive back empty handed. But no – I wouldn’t do that. I would have to wait it out somewhere, until he got back. I began to think if there was anyone I knew up here. I remembered one person, but I wasn’t sure if I had her phone number anymore. I quieted my thoughts, tried to brush away my doubts, and walked to the doorway.
They had buzzers. I pressed number five. “Hello?” I recognized his voice over the cracking speaker.
