Secrets

I had a dream last night that a football hatched and a puppy came out.

I felt empty today. I kept my mouth shut a lot. Head down, sat in pod, focused on work. Didn't feel super witty or invested in much. It was like someone slipped a prozac in my water. I think it was because of all the ODing I had been doing with caffeine pills. Or I'm fighting a summer cold. Who knows.

Went to Breanna's after work and swam at her pool. Then went home while she went to volleyball. I want to pool everyday. I love pooling. We took rum with us. Chatted about travel. That was neat.

My journey at Bozell has been very interesting. I may need to write a short story about it someday. Or a few. This place has been a rollercoaster. In terms of the business and in terms of the people. I love it here though. The way you start to fall in love with your captors.

Is there a word for that?

Day three without power. I would have expected the apartment to be hotter. It's actually very comfortable.

Summer Solstice

Today was the longest day of the year. I wanted to play hooky. Go to the roof, day drink by the pool. I hope there is a parallel universe where that happened. I am told there is a full moon out right now.

I ran three miles after work. Immediately when I started running it rained on me. It's wasn't horrible. Complimented my sweat and my mood well. I was sad today. Someone play a violin for me. Write a fucking sonnet about it.

I was focused at work. I used my grumpy to be focused. I haven't been that clearheaded in a while. Work felt easy. Thinking was boring. It seemed like everything I said or thought had an echo to it. There was a loneliness in the effort.

Nathan is helping me get some things together for Hannah's birthday. He's the sort of man we all wish we could be. I enjoy being his friend, but it always makes me feel guilty. I'm not as good of a person. It's like if you spent the night at your friend's much nicer, bigger home. You never quite feel comfortable or welcome, no matter how much they tell you "me casa is su casa".

My apartment was without power today.

Free Time

I just got done watching an old vlog from Casey Neistat. May 7, 2015.

Watch it here.

In it he delineates out his average day. Explains how "free time" and "fun" have no room, because he's busy doing the things he values more. He looks great in this video. Arms are big, eyes bright. He's energetic and lucid. He talks about this being probably the healthiest time of his life and how he doesn't want to waste any minute.

Today was father's day. It was nice. The kids were good to me. I spent almost the entire day in bed being lazy. Watching the Craft Beer channel on YouTube. Facebook. Instagram. I ate junk food. I did go outside to watch the sunset. Made the kids come with initially, but there was complaining.

I was thinking that today was a success. I was congratulating myself on letting myself be lazy. But the truth is, I feel guilty and dumb. I wish I had used more energy. Gotten up and gotten out with the kids. We talked about a walk, but it never really materialized. I like days when they tell me they are tired at the end.

I've got a lot of cleaning to do tomorrow. The kids did a number on the apartment. Usually I make them pick up their messes, but I thought I should probably just be nice to them today. Plus, I sort of want to pay a penance for fucking off all damn day.

Got accidentally drunk last night, btw. Bells is finally in Omaha. I put away a six of two hearted. It was a quiet inebriation.

Happy F D.

Remember the lake?

I have a friend who has a house really close to where I went on vacation. I learned this tonight.

I spent a lot of money on donuts and cake and pizza for father's day. I like that. I love my kids. Also, I love donuts and pizza. Not "doughnuts", "donuts".

I was grumpy today. I don't know why. Plenty of sleep happened. I tried not to be. I went on a run. It was a disaster. I ran for two miles. The heat killed me. I walked almost the rest of the last two miles. Not all. I think it's important that I keep running in the heat. Seems like I should be able to adapt to the environment. I don't want to be "Drago".

I wish my life was different. Not different. But different.

Little to nothing at all.

It's summer hours at work. That means we can leave at 2:00. Ish. I didn't do that today. I hung out. Chatted with Tim. We are hitting a comfortable stride working together. There was butting of heads initially. I was surprised at how volatile our relationship got. But we made it through. I think that guy still struggles with me. There's very much a big brother attitude sometimes. He respects me. There is equanimity. But many times there's unasked for advice and finger-wagging. He's never really wrong. And I'm never radically insulted. But it's a thing. I think time will even everything out.

I self identify as a rule breaker. But not always in the spirit of just plain old anarchy. I like to explore so that I can learn. I mean, breaking the rules is fun, and there's plenty of that going on, but I also think that if your brain is screwed on tight enough, you can learn far more when you shake things up. I think Tim gets uncomfortable when things get, uncomfortable. Which clearly makes sense. But he's also smart enough to be intrigued. He worries about me. This is a symptom of him giving a shit, not judgment. Well no, there's some judgment, but dude, who could blame him?

I need to put more thought into this. Explore examples. I'm explaining my gut feelings. These thoughts are too raw and new to be fully correct. The spirit seems close though.

Breanna brought her little sister Iris to work. She's five. We all went to lunch. A big group of us. I spent the whole time giving Iris all of my attention. She's awesome. Sweet little girl. One of my favorite ages. I remember when Molly and I were building a family I felt very much like a fish out of water. Sometimes I wonder how much I've changed over the years. Being comfortable around kids is a big one. I don't know what that means exactly. But I do know that I'm going to enjoy being a grandparent someday.

I worry about dating. I'm not sure I want to share my kids. And I have many strong, potentially unwaverable ideas about how to parent children. Luckily I don't have to worry too much. Dating is pretty much off the fucking books for me right now.

Off the ball.

I was very proactive today. My driver's license expires on my birthday this year. I went online so I could see what sort of paperwork I might need to take with me to the DMV. There was a form. I downloaded and printed the form. I used a really nice blue pen. My best handwriting. When I got to the DMV I found out there was a 45 minute wait. Not the end of the world, but long enough to complain on facebook about it. I was informed by a friend that if I had bothered to continue to look online I would have found that there is a way to signup digitally for a specific call time so I don't have to wait in line so long. Doh. But I chatted it up with a nice woman about books.* So, but, when I was finally called back I got my picture taken and I took the eye test. I tried a few jokes out, but the woman behind the counter was quintessential grumpy. Turns out the internet also forgot to inform me that because I was changing my address, I needed to have two pieces of proof. I didn't have those. But even if I had, I still wouldn't have been able to get my license. Apparently there is a 90 day window before your license expiration date that you must use. Not before. Certainly not after.

So even when I tried to get ahead, I end up behind.

Fucking metaphors, man.

I want to go skydiving in the mountains. Before the summer is over.

*Joyce Carol Oates: The Man Without A Shadow

And call me in the morning.

I didn’t run today. I actually went home over lunch to run. Sat on the couch to call my dad. Promptly fell asleep. I dunno. 

Dipped the bottom of my first IPA (Double Knotted) into orange paint this afternoon. That could have gone better. It is what it is.

Heat outside was intense. Thinking hard was exhausting.

Hugged Dominic extra hard.

Made cookies.

Still lonely. I wish there was a pill for it. I would take two. Because fuck rules.

Sweaty.

It was hot today. Crazy hot. And humid worst of all. 

Here’s what I texted a friend:

“I just blanched myself in the shower. That run was a biblical sort of pain. With much weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Another text:

“Why do people live here? The humidity is tyrannical. The winters remove all the fun from snow. The views are flat and full of cow exhaust. The people all look like Hodor.”

There was a person sleeping on the floor of the entryway to my apartments this morning as I walked the kids out to the car. I feel like I’ve seen my future.

Today was lonely. Surrounded by people at work, but it all felt muffled. It wasn’t that all consuming, horrible loneliness I’ve felt before. This didn’t have the same volume. But it was there. In the room with me.

I love having my kids with me. We say, “I love you.” to each other a lot. I wish they said it more to each other. The other day Marianne lost her balloon to the wind. Dominic ran after it like a damn hero and finally caught it. It was awesome. I told Marianne to thank him and give him a hug. She did it with the sort of gusto that made it look like it was her idea.

I’m glad to be running again though. I want to get my numbers back up there.

I’m not saying I want to be with anyone. I’m just saying that sometimes I get lonely. And that’s not super awesome.

So. Much. Sweat. Today.

Witticisms.

The kids and I were waxing intellectual about god. I heard David say this:

“You know how you can’t figure out a math problem and it’s frustrating, and then you see the answer and you’re like, ‘OHHHHH! DUH! I KNEW THAT!’? I bet that’s what it’s like when you die.”

Fuck, I hope that was an original quote. I should probably google it to double check.

It’s so humid outside. I want to slap babies. I’m peeling from my burn. Is there anything more satisfying than getting one large chunk from a single pull?

First day back to work wasn’t complete shit. Surprisingly.

Dial tone.

Casey Neistat has produced and uploaded a video a day for over a year. Well made, too, not just phoned in. I was trying to write daily. Just write. I was allowing phone-ins. It hasn’t been a full two weeks and I already fucking missed a day.

Failure is a state of mind as well as a state of affairs. I’ll try harder. Need to find a better rhythm.

Hang in there little kitty. 

(Cleaned. Did laundry. Organized room. Dishes. Etc.)

Filler.

Made it home in the wee hours of the morning. Slept in until noon. Went to lunch with Breanna. Then swimming at her place. Now I'm at her second job drinking beers. She's waiting tables. Nathan is on his way to join us. 

And the earth spins.

Sweaty

We’re looking at leaving early, Dad and I. Today has been relatively empty. We went fishing hungover. Buff couldn’t get enough air, so we headed back and dropped him off. Dad trying driving the boat. Not super easy. I sleep for the first time on the boat. Actually got bored. I was expecting a lot more of that on this trip.

Dad is punchy. He wants to go home. We’ll see. I packed up just in case. It’s evening now, so if we leave soon, we’ll be on the road over night.

I’m tired. Ready to be around women.

Got around to it.

Morning:

A quick reflection on last night:

We have been day drinking on the lake a lot. When we get back there is an amazing dinner that happens. Mysteriously. A lot of fart jokes happen. Literally, Buff was lighting his actual farts with a lighter. That was a thing last night. And then my father get’s everyone super high. He was amazing last night. Everyone got pounded. Losing your train of thought mid sentence. Laughing so hard, two seconds later forgetting why you were laughing and then laughing harder at that. We all lost our mind. But dad was quick witted as hell and owned the place. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him be the biggest mind in the room. The funnest guy at the bar. Everyone wants to be him. Loves just being around him. I’ve seen it before, but goddammit it’s cool.

It’s a weird thing to be proud of your parent. Specially for that. But I am.

Evening:

 A quick reflection on tonight:

Buff won. There was a quiet contest of inebriation vs will. It came down to Buff, Dad and I. Dad crashed on the couch after the very first Simon and Garfunkel song (we were playing guitars and waxing intellectual).

We talked philosophy. We talked music. Most of the guys talked cars. This was a day full of fishing. And it was awesome. I will remember Buff and my father from this trip until the day that I die.

Quick quote though, “Hey Dave, if you ever want a manager for a live comedy show, I’m your man, dude.” Buff

…I need to talk more about Buff. Remind me.

Titles are completely unnecessary.

First thing of all I am drunk. I am writing this drunk. So. I guess that means I had a good day. I remember being introduced to the big water. I actually felt comfortable fishing. I could see doing this on purpose someday. I remember beers in the sun on the water for a very comfortable amout of time. I remember leftover chili on grilled hot dogs. I remember Firestone Walker beer. 

I am also high. I forgot about that. Because. So. But. Um.

Buff keeps lighting his farts. I. Am. Not. Making. This. Up. This is the dude with bad lungs. I have wondered more than once, if he will die on this damn trip.

Everyone here plays guitar. I may or may not be the worst one here. I can’t tell.

There is a very real possibility that everyone here, is better than me. Morally. 

Ooof. This got dark.

I still feel like I’m on the boat. That motion sensation. I wonder of there’s a word for that?

END NOTE:

Last night ended with all the guitarists playing loudly. Demanding the room for attention. Dad was the only one who didn’t know how to play a guitar.

Tonight they started to play the guitar again. After a couple of songs dad said out loud to himself, “I should have brought a bunch of crosswords puzzles to impress you guys with.”

I cried.

Being wrong a lot.

My father’s friend’s brother is here with us. He’s a large man with a clinical breathing problem. He requires oxygen tanks for daily life. He walks slow. He was a trucker before his current medical condition. I went to bed last night unimpressed. His favorite subject is farts. He likes to expound on his own for hours. And share them with the class. He uses the word “nigger” a lot. He never doesn’t smile.

This morning my father and I shared a boat with him. He knows fishing like the horse whisperer… etc. He was very patient with me. Even jovial. He explained as much as I was willing to hear about boating, fishing, birds, seasonal applications of all. I swear to you, he made this morning fun. Then we came back to the cabin and he started to make a chill. I explained to him what a rue was and how to add sweetness to counterbalance the tartness of the tomatoes. He agreed jovial with me as he continued to make the chilli his way. It was insanely delicious. The he picked up his guitar and start to play beatles songs while his brother sang. He’s better than me. A lot better. We drank together. And laughed.

I accidentally learned three things from him today that I will take with me forever. How to incorporate jalapeños properly into food. How to fish. How to play ‘Here Comes the Sun’.

I motherfucking LOVE being wrong about people. 

It’s been a good day.

Not hell.

Dad and I spent the day together driving to MN for a weeklong fishing trip. We did not fight. He slept a little. Some deep conversations about the state of the entertainment industry. (We’re not hopeful.) Dad has his finger on the pulse of the hollywood scene. He knows who is divorcing who and who should be starring in what, when, etc. It’s endearing and creepy.

I quietly missed people. That’s a thing I do a lot. No one wants to hear my shit. And I don’t want to tell. It’s less interesting than whether or not the chick who played Hermione should start considering theater more before she is rightfully considered an “A” actress.

The lake here in MN is underwhelming. I’m looking forward to being proven wrong. Maybe I’m just tired from the drive. I smell. There are six men in this cabin. There will be smells. Fires have been started with less.

I could give two shits about fishing.

Filler.

Many much drinking.

All the way down.

My head is foggy. I have a cumbersome tomorrow planned. There will be drinking. In many places. Copious amounts. A cancer crawl thing and then a beer festival. I wanted to enjoy these events. Separately. But as fate would like to see it play out, these guys are happening in tandem. And here I am, coasting on the thermals of a surprisingly little fever. I mean, I'm better. Mostly. But gun shy. Worried. I'm in a place in my life where I nod knowingly at modesty and a temperate outlook. Reserve has a nice ring to it.

Oh well. Here's to luck and a well prepared liver. CHEERS.

Sick and tired.

I started getting a fever last night. I went to bed early. Slept hard. I woke up once, pretty delirious. My skin hurt and I was sweaty. I remember dreaming that I was in Target and I thought I was having diarrhea cramps. I went to the bathroom and picked the handicap stall for maximum leg room. I remember I had my pants around my ankles and I saw a female Target employee come up to my stall and open the door. I hid my dick out of modesty. She told me that she noticed in the store that I looked like shit. Target had a strict policy that no customer should be uncomfortable and she felt really badly for me. I tried to thank her for her concern and I remember asking her nicely if she could maybe, if she wouldn’t mind, leave, so I could let my asshole explode. She continued to let me know that as a sick customer I was eligible for an $80 Target gift card and a few other key price breaks on select items. And on the dream went.

It occurred to me later that I was maybe lucky she kept stalling me in the stall, because if my dream would have continued as planned I may have accidentally shit the bed.

It was a weird dream. Like I would EVER take a dump in a store.

There are many words out there. Let's try a few.

My grandmother use to check her investments daily. Pre-internet. She would watch the ticker on TV. Like a caveman. She had several notebooks and she would list out the dozen or so companies she had invested in and write down their current worth. Impeccable handwriting. Every few months or so she would gather her financial paperwork and her notebooks and place them neatly in a pile next to her on the couch. Between her legs she would place a small waste basket. She would slowly and deliberately tear each sheet of paper and drop them into the trash while she watched her programs. The noise would drive my father fucking nuts.

Her actions seem deeply metaphoric to me today. They were not intended to be. She was just doing a thing that made her happy. Not sending coded moral messages.

I’m bad at money. So, fuck lot of good it did anyway. But I am very good at systematically getting rid of important things.

This isn’t my first blog. But it’s been a while. I’m in the mood now to start a thing I will unceremoniously get rid of someday.