A Whippets favorite Pastime

Originally uploaded by artfuldodger9

Sleep! The TRUE breakfast of Champions!

So where was I?

Oh, yeah… Dwelling on inevitability. Surgery. All that joyous stuff that makes life grand for me. August 7th, 2007 was an extremely surreal experience in that my focus had to be elsewhere instead of impending doom and gloom (thank you Oren Koules, Jim Sherrin and Doug Maclean). Surreal may be a strong word for it. A grand, welcome distraction might be a better phrasing. Having a friend come over to spend some time with me and further distract me only aided to things.

The next day was no better – wanting to deal with that story and yet lying in a hospital gurney most of the day while waiting an angiogram: the pre-operative procedure as bad as I dreaded (but with a great staff of physicians trying to deal with my issues and some medical breakthroughs since my last angiogram that kept me from being bed ridden).

You know, I feel like I’m being shallow in the details but at the same time — there weren’t many meaty details before I was trucked off to the ninth floor at Tampa General Hospital where I stayed overnight before surgery. Besides pain issues with thanks to the angiogram, everything went swimmingly.

And how can I properly term my stay at TGH besides saying I was surrounded by good omens and positive energy? Days previous to surgery, I’d gotten a religious card sent to me with the only Patron Saint I identify with. It’s sorta grim but after I learned about him (and wrote about a poem where I invoked him) I didn’t see it as an ill omen as-so-much familiarity. I can deal with familiarity.

When I got to the ninth floor, who greets me warmly but an old friend from High School who works as an Registered Nurse on the floor? It was good mojo to see her, realize who she was and have come right up to me and say hi.

Another thing that was positive and yet drenched with negativity was a nurse I had overnight who I couldn’t understand due to her accent. She was warm, pleasant and tried her best to overcome things and I foudn myself mad that I had gotten frustrated with her.

(more…)

My biological clock is tickin’ like this! (stomping feet) At this rate, I ain’t neva’ gettin’ married!” — Marisa Tomei (as Mona Lisa Vito) in My Cousin Vinny

A couple of months back, my friend Terra had asked me if guys start having the biological clock thing and start feeling antsy about things. This was inspired by her friend Marc who seemed to be getting that way in wanting to settle down (I forget the exact details of the conversation). I do remember telling her that generally I (as a guy) felt like it was time to grow up and some people also must get it.

I never expected a feeling of dread that I am missing out on more (love, family) until today.

I’m rather chronic with wanting to get involved and I know I bitch and whine elsewhere about my prospects.. Yet I’ve never felt like I would want, need or have a child. That’s probably still the overall realistic truth (I’m single, I am not dating, I am not sleeping around, nor am I the type to just sleep around)…

Yet last night, out of nowhere while my head was weaving it’s magic through the dreamscape — i had a child. I mean, I was the father of a little girl that appeared in the wandering farscapes and such of my subconscious. A little blond haired girl with glasses who thought I was going to be upset with her that she bought herself a toy instead of something else she needed. I re-assured her I wasn’t and put on a happy face. I also ended up — while trying to fix her glasses — breaking her spectacles by accident.

But what has nagged at me is my knowing the girl thought I was her father and I was her father.

I really need to get my mind off this subject and the entire subject of romance right now. Nothing good is going to come from a forced encounter with a stranger that I meet in this state-of-mind…

If it’s all the same to you
I’m gonna’ talk a while
See where the rhythm leads me
Or if I can forget your smile

If it’s all the same to you
I feel left for dead
Solitary Avenues
ANd a cold, lonely bed

If it’s all the same to you
I think I’ll hate the world
Where you’ve gone, loved, lived, moved on
And I can’t find another girl

If it’s all the same to you
I’ll cry myself to sleep
Self-esteem is running low
And shallowness reigns supreme.

© 2005 John Fontana

A Hard Days Night of the last 24 hours, that’s a way to describe things that have gone on.

I like to stay obtuse in here at times and in this case it’s especially hard to do so because my partner-in-crime reads the blog on a regular basis. That beign said I’ll cut with the detials and get to the point….

Giving a dog to a good home is something special but knowing the dog is terrified — that’s bad. Knowing that she’s going to a loving, patient pair of owners — that’s good. Spending a day with someone you care for is fantastic. Then having to break the news to that person that the dog she saved, healed and had given a life to, had run away — that’s bad.

Wandering around downtown Clearwater chasing after a shy dog at 1 AM – that’s just strange. Albeit it ’s also dangerous with the quality characters in the neighborhood. Knowing the animal is playing traffic (not literally, but had been close to traffic and almost hit) — that’s terrible.

Going on minimum sleep and returning to the scene of the crime at daybreak to try, try again — that’s devotion.

And to see this animal re-united with her family after being rescued / captured by a good samaritian — That’s heartwarming. Left wanting more, — that’s life.

It’s getting near 2 AM when I write this and it’ll be 2 by the time I publish this and there are a lto of things that are sorta swimming through my head and at the same tiem there aren’t many at all.

I had a good night. I decided to go out for dinner and had some drinks and made the mistake of walking almost 2 miles home — drunk. That’s ok though. I was observant enough not to get hit by a car here in the worst place in the United States to be a pedestrian.

Something else is fudging with me and it’s not something that makes sense to me because it’s a contradiction of sorts…. Having a friend who has been someone you rely on and finding they haven’t been making you better as much as you thought. About how I changed for someone and how it was detrimental to me in general.

And I’d get into that but I like being obtuse about it. Better for all parties involved because you all have to figure out WTF I am talking about

At the same time I have been focusing on myself a lot more — on things with my life and trying to improve them or figure out how the hell to do that. Someone else — well, a couple of people — have been pushing me forward with that and it’s all good… (this should clear up some of the obtuseness) Hopefully something comes from it before my body decides to mess with me again.

2:05 AM EST on Sunday as I finish this post up… And I’m wondering when I’ll go to sleep….

How can people continue to defend Barry Bonds?

I was stupid enough to go onto Scout.com (formerly FanHome) and read some fo the discussion that is going on with regards to the current Steroid Scandal in Major League Baseball and the fact Bary Bonds acknowledged using a creme that was loaded with Steroids…

“He did nothing illegal”

Let me get this straight, Barry Bonds and those like him — from Jose Canseco to Ken Camanitti to Jason Giambi and Gary Sheffield — have sullied the reputation and integrity of Major League Baseball to an extent far great than the Pete Rose betting scandal fo the 1980’s. They may have drawn the aw of fans by their feats but they have cheated for more than a decade at various stages in their careers.

Canseco had been a juicer for a while, Camanitti won the MVP whiel juicing. Giambi did the same… And the entire 1998 Home-Run Chase has been thrown into doubt. Say it ain’t so, Mark, say it ain’t so Sammy….

And someoen wants to say that Barry Bonds has doen nothing illegal?

Look at the children that look up to him — sickenly — and those who have been awed by him. Look at the money that thousands, if not millions, have invested in the Giants and in other Major League Baseball rpoperties while they have been led to believe these athletes have accomplished these feats on their own…. Some with their faith in God alone and some with raw skill. All of this is cast into doubt… “God was on my side, as was BALCO!”

It’s funny how I grew up lovign baseball in an age where 40 home runs was a grandoise feet. I hated Barry Bonds then and I continue to do so now… Ryne Sandberg was a respected but loathed adversary and Howard Johnson was the man, at least for me.

Sandberg hit 40 home runs and looked like a stick figure…. Howard Johnson was a 30-30 player and though he had a scruffy beard, he was virtually invisible compared to how Barry Bonds and other muscle-head players have looked the last 7 years.

Oh, and 1991 Barry? He looked like a lanky kid with the most pompous home-run poise to boot.

DOn’t defend Barry Bonds for his transgressions — and that’s what they are, transgressions. It’s time for him, Jason Giambi and others to sleep in the bed they made… And personally, I think a ban from baseball is the only thing that will do in this instance.

Where to begin, where to begin?

“I’m only sorta gimpy. I can get there by myself.” I told a curb side check in agent for American Airlines. He smirked and let out a laugh and I went on my way into Tampa International Airport to start my trip on Tuesday morning. I had my Eastman backpack swung over my shoulders, dress pants on and my “trusty” cane in hand as I navigated the terminal and made my way to the airside concourse.

American Airlines made it real easy on me and helped me out the entire way to and from Burbank. Being it lead onto the plane by a Stewardess in Tampa or the ticket-agent trying to get me a replacement flight to Tampa from Dallas if I didn’t make that conneciton flight (more on that later)… AA kicked ass in their service.

The big thing about this that upset my parents and extended family was I was going 2200 miles by my lonesome as my first trip solo. Not to mention I’m still a gimp to one extent or another, walking with and without a cane at times.

Not like I needed to care about being gimpy once I got on the streets of LA.

If there’s one difference that is night and day in La Cuidad de Angels compared to Tampa/St. Pete and the suburbs, it’s the fact that pedestrians have the right of way. Here in Florida, I’d get run down sooner than a car actually wait to turn during a green light. In Los Angeles? I got honked at for not walking and waving cars on at an intersection. That was the biggest adjustment, and the most pleasing.

The other thing that hits me hard every time I am out there is getting used to being surrounded by minorities. Mexicans, Japaneese, African Americans, etc…. One huge eclectic mix. Here in the south, people can only hold closed minded views and hold fear when thinking about situations like that. Me? I fucking LOVED it.

Sure, there is the idea you could get jumped by a gang here and there — that was before I did some thinking and observing. Grandma’s were out walking with canes, unmolested by teens hanging out and kids walking around with CD players weren’t being attacked… I think that gives you an idea it’s safe to be out and about during the daytime and not so intimidated…

At any rate, half the reason I was able to do this trip was my buddy out west, Mark Albracht who I know from SkyscraperPage.com. Me and Mark have known each other a while and have been friends for the past year +…. He had picked me up at the airport and we also spent some time in Hollywood looking around and stuff. It was fun to be out there and see some of the places that I have only heard about (the Kodak theater, the Egyptian….. The Walk of fame…).

Damn, there is so much to talk about and yet I am just rambling through it. And at the same time, there is little to talk about because I didn’t do much while out there. While I liked being on my own on a trip, I would have loved a peer with me (not a parent) to enjoy some of the things that I passed on or didn’t spend enough time with.

Of course, the trip did have it’s low point – my birthday . The day started off as it normally did in LA but I had an appointment that morning. A long overdue ABI checkup. What went so bad? Being forced into an MRI that i didn’t want to have done, having to sit around for four hours until I had the prodcedure, then being in physical and emotional pain with how I was dealt with by the staff… To summarize my birthday was to summarize my life: spent with me trying to look good, voyaging, meeting a friend, being duped by a faux ally, pain, humiliation and ultimately ending alone. Great attitude, wouldn’t you say?

Oh, I forgot to add the part about Burbank. Saturday morning I left my hotel (after barely getting any sleep) to encounter the worst fog I had seen first hand since I was a kid. The flight was grounded until almost 9 and could have made me miss my conneciton flight home… And like I said, a ticket agent stepped right up and arranged things for me if I did miss my connection. Luckily, once airborn, we made up time lost and actually came in ahead of schedule (but still not enough time for this guy to grab a meal while on the DFW International concourse.

I’m planning on getting away some more in coming weeks. A trip to NY for instance…. Who knows where else. Where I’m wanted and where I’m curious would most likely be it.

“I know why you’re here, Neo. I know what you’ve been doing… why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why night after night, you sit by your computer. You’re looking for him. I know because I was once looking for the same thing. And when he found me, he told me I wasn’t really looking for him. I was looking for an answer. It’s the question, Neo. It’s the question that drives us. It’s the question that brought you here. You know the question, just as I did. ”

“The answer is out there, Neo, and it’s looking for you, and it will find you if you want it to.”

Night after night? Check. Hardly sleeping? Sorta check… Living alone? No but feeling alone? Check….

Searching for Him? Who Him? It? Her? Possibly…

What is the Purpose is the question that I am asking… and I honestly don’t know.

Lately I’ve been writing — that’s for another entry however — and en I finally went to bed at 20 til 2 I was pretty much spent and ready for sleep.

Well, that is until I notice the lightning in my window. I thought nothing of it and thought it was a distant storm, putting on a light show. After all, I had seen clear skies and distant storms that afternoon. Clear skies overhead.,..

Yet as the clock ticked to 2 AM the lightning became more frequent, more intense. I figured it would be a brief storm – they all are after all. .. And instead? I get to witness the most intense Lightning storm I have seen in my 15 years in Florida. Torrential rain? Sure… That went with the storm… Yet the amount of Lightning and thunder had me taken aback! There was a lightning strike EVERY FRIGGIN’ SECOND it seemed and if there was any time in between lightning flashes it was only a short interval of 2 to 3 seconds.

And it went on from just before 2 AM til past 3… It got so bad at one point I had sent Pager messages to my friends Bill, Keith and Michelle. It had woken Michelle up who answered the page I sent. She was up worrying about one of her cats that were still outside…

Mother nature is one raw bitch but she’s magnificent none the else.