But due to recent circumstances — the other shoe falling — I’m back for the moment and maybe longer. 

I read John Densmore’s Riders on the Storm a few years ago and heard about this song in an ancedote where Jim Morrison showed him the lyrics to this song while in the Hollywood hills.  It had presented a new vulnerability aspect to Morrison and Densmore thought he was maturing as a songwriter… it fits my mood of coming to grips but celebration of what you are…

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…

It’s been a long, strange trip but in the 14 months I’ve been officially hostingSticks of Fire, it’s gone from blogspot hotspot to dot-com phenom. I knew at the time I approached Tommy about upgrading things that he had something great going on… Little did I know how much it would grow.

Tommy Duncan is probably the Bay area’s most unheralded media star. He gets invites to speak in various capacities (round table discussions, conferences, TV spots) and pretty much has Tampa covered with himself and his cast of supporting writers.

And now, Tommy has taken the next step by getting into a business alliance with Tampa Gold. When that officially kicks off, Tommy will be departing from my server space at Dreamhost and going to the land of far-far-away… Or on shared hosting package with Tampa Gold, take your pick.

I haven’t seen profit from hosting Tommy’s site and I haven’t requested payment for doing so. I never stuck in some personal reference (“Hosted by Dreamhost” etc) or anything like that… It made me feel good to be doing this.

But to just make a long story short, I want to wish my buddy well with his new venture and I hope it takes him where I couldn’t take him — to his rightful place at the to of local pop culture and beyond.

…It’s sad it doesn’t go anywhere, but the admiration is a definate pick-me-up.

At any rate, I told people about this story in an earlier entry… There is no title to it as it stands right now and it’s just a few hundred words… Let me know what you think if you think anything about it… Just click on more to view it.

Dontrell and Monica stood on the tiptoes of their flip-flop clad feet and peered into the white minivan. They had been on their way to the community pool to help beat the mid-summer heat when they were compelled to look in ominous white vehicle that was owned by a white lady who lived nearby. The car was parked just across the street from their own apartment and along the path to the pool. It was impossible for them not to look, knowing the white woman had big dogs that she put in there. They had seen her and the animals before and both intimidated them. There were a couple of large cages in the back of the minivan, where the woman sometimes put the dogs before she drove off to where ever white women go to.

“Ya’ll better watch out,” their mom’s boyfriend, Barry, spoke from behind them. “She gonna’ end up comin’ out and catchin’ you!” He was standing close to their apartment building and hauling a couple of trash bags in his arms. The kids liked Barry with his music and modified car that had a really loud speakers and could bounce too! He wore gold chains and looked like a rapper from TV.

“Ya’ll see those cages in there?” Barry asked, putting down his trash bags for a moment and approaching the kids. The cages had specifically caught their attention because of how big they were. “Ya’ll look at them real good ‘cause when she catches you she’s gonna’ put your asses in those cages and let the dogs eat you!”

The kids looked at Barry in disbelief. Would the woman really do that to them? Feed them to those monster hounds? Barry slowly nodded as if to stress the point before picking up the trash bags again and continuing on his trek to the trash bin. He let out a laugh on the way but the children didn’t hear him – they were too preoccupied on the frightening reality that stood before them.

Ever since Dontrell and Monica watched their friend Alisha be mauled by her family pit bull a few months earlier, the kids had been absolutely terrified of dogs. It could be their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jackson, and her little terrier. It could also be any one of the neighborhoods other pit bulls, and there were many of them. Whatever size it was, whatever breed it was, the kids were certain the animal was ready to snap at them.

And of course some white lady’s dogs have got to be trained to go after the black folk, the kids thought. She was one of the only non-black people that lived in the apartment complex, and they had no idea why she didn’t live with the rest of her people and leave their neighborhood alone.

She seemed scary to them just because she was so alien – white people weren’t common in their community. Her hair was a deep red and she barely smiled. She wore glasses and was always bringing around other strange white folks: a scrawny man who walked around with the help of a stick, and there was another woman who stayed with her for a while who had a scab on one of her eyes. Maybe they were her friends but they were all so freaky!

The dogs that the lady had – they looked like the kind they had seen when Barry took them and their mom to the racetrack once in a while. The big, sleek, thin dogs would chase a mechanical rabbit around a track and they were hella’ quick too! That was another reason why the kids were so taken aback of the white woman’s dogs – they knew that they were too fast not to catch them!

It was terribly hot, but Dontrell and Monica had forgotten the pool for the moment, as they stood affixed to their fears.

In their silence, they imagined being locked in the cages and having those big dogs closing in on them. They would be slobbering and panting, barking and growling and showing their viciousness before closing in on the kill. It would be exactly like what happened to Alisha – having her skin ripped off and being made dead… There would be no escape. They’d scream and maybe Barry would try to save them from that mad white bitch’s dogs? Or maybe he’d let them die so he could have their mother to hi’self? He always wanted private time with her anyway and was always throwing them out of the apartment.

A voice from behind them broke the anxious silence, “Could you kindly not get handprints on my windows?”

It was the white lady – standing not 3 yards from them. Dontrell and Monica looked at each other and panicked. They heard not a word of what the woman said but had all of their fantasies come to life! Barry said she’d feed them to the dogs! Barry said she’d lock them in the cages before she did it! She was here now and at any moment now her dogs would be chasing after them down in frenzy!

They screamed and took off for the pool without looking back. If they had, they would have noticed the white lady watching them with an expression of bewilderment. The threat was only in their minds, the perception of imminent doom was just an innocent childhood misconception; one whose impression will not likely fade with away

Eric Rosell, one of my best friends growing up – the kid aroudn the corner – got married in a small ceremony at a local church. It was the first time I had seen his parents in a few months, the first time I had seen his brother in a few years and the first time I had seen his sister in more years. It was amazing I was attending Eric’s wedding, surreal even. (sidenote – is it bad luck if a Catholic is married on teh day the Pope dies? I hope not)

I grew up playing or hanging out at Eric’s house. I was the one that was first notably enamoured with someone of the opposite sex… Or at least the first to make a big deal otu of love and romance and stuff like that. This, that and the other thing – I saw my childhood before me — even as it disappeared further.

The nostalgia didn’t end there as I heard from Danae – the girl who live ddownt eh block for a time who I was flipped out for. I had sent her an email wishing her a happy birthday — strange how sometimes you feel like it’s not yoru place to say soemthing like that and yet you have no problem with doing so with other people who are almost complete strangers. She got to breaking me the news her grandmother – who lives down the block – had passed away at Christmas (which I wasn’t aware of) and other things. I remembered being smitten with the saphire-eyed girl who lived at the corner… I thought of the memory of the past – and the awkwardness and malignance the relationship had in general.

But of all negatives in the past – they’ve been forgiven. If not forgotten by me.

It’s funny the difference a year can make….

This year I am kissing strangers and joking around, in good spirits. This year I am waiting eagerly for that special someone who is my left hand. This year I feel complete. This year I’m in love once again.

This year is a different world and I am glad I returned to it.

That being said, I still must send out regards to the lonely out there — there is hope and it will hit… Just make sure you keep your morals high and don’t bend for a moment. Don’t fool yourself iwth false emotion. It’ll be surprising when you find them… It is for me.

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.

Today we had somewhere around 20 people over for dinner… well, 20 people would be a few too many but it fluctuated in the teens all afternoon. Uncle’s, my aunt, my cousin and her daughter, my younger brother (while Mike skipped out on things) and other family friends. It was a great get-together for the most part and I had a lot of fun with things.

I brought up what I am thankful for (“That I’m not lying in a hospital bed this year.” ) to a round of applause and through the liquor and the laughter I easily forgot where I was a year ago today or what I suffered through at the time (no, not surgery — watching George W. Bush and his faux visit to Iraq).

But someone had to ruin the day for me.

It wasn’t family – though their reaction did indeed bother me. It wasn’t friends of the family – though I notably started acting strange when some people showed up. No, it was the fact certain people turned up with both their kids in tote that I had problems with. I mean MAJOR problems. It basically ruined the evening for me….

The family pretty much embraced them and that made me further angry — as someone who has opened his arms after being stepped on and then gotten stepped on again, I couldn’t stand to watch this train wreck in action.

Speaking of train wrecks, I was happy to see Kylie was walking. Kylie being my cousin Amber’s daughter. I had gotten very upset during her first birthday party when I saw not only was she not walking but she looked like she wasn’t nearly ready for it. I’m glad I’ve been proved wrong on that one.

So… To summarize — a year later I am in good spiriits. I’m not wasting away in a hospital bed with only a friend at my side and a Subway sandwitch to eat. I’m happy I am spending time with my family and out and about… I’m thankful that I’m not having nightmares of someone’s blog or having Christmas Cards thrown out…

I’m thankful….

I was going over the site web logs – just sometime I do from time to time to see who is linked to Der Stonegauge or other sites I am in control of. I’ve been catching a lot of people who’ve been siphoning graphics lately, for example. I also check those logs for search phrases that are used on the Internet that leads people to this site. Sometimes they are strange terms, sometimes they are relevant because I have posts using those titles, sometimes they are explicitly (because I use 4 letter words in posts and other posts just happen to have the matching second keyword that some pervert typed into a Search Engine) and then some terms come out of the blue.

Here’s the one that made me do a double take:

he doesn’t want to talk to me

It got me thinking… It got me wondering…. Of course, I have no phrase use on the site that even comes close to that, and of course I have no clue who went on the Internet, typed that key-phrase on a certain Search Engine and got this site as a result, but it just jarred me a bit.

So I’ll humor myself here by just typing out why it may seem like “he doesn’t want to talk to me” to this person… And what the truth may be on why “he” seems the way he is.

I’m thinking about my own acts in the past that give the impression that I don’t want to talk to someone when the truth is that I would enjoy talking to them — if it didn’t hurt me. There’s only one person who I have this type of relationship with right now and it’s been like this for a year.

I would think that’s obviously one of the reasons why “he doesn’t want to talk to me” for certain women — hurt they’ve caused that push people away. Of course there are far more reasons out there that can be used to explain that phrase — a lack of confidence, a fight, a missed chance, a break up, just plain not knowing someone and low self-esteem telling you that they wouldn’t want to talk to you.

But the reality of “he doesn’t want to talk to me” is that you don’t know until you try. If it doesn’t work one way, do it another. Exhaust your means of getting to talk to the guy before you start pouting that they don’t want to talk. Don’t say they don’t until you try. If they end up saying to your face ‘I don’t want to talk to you” it’s best to just move on…

And for those who are like me that avoid talking to people because of hurt, there’s always a bigger story to things and it’s different for everyone — being used, being strung along, being lied to or deceived, having hearts broken by various incidents I can only imagine… Sometimes it’s fights, sometimes it’s the other side avoiding you for so long they don’t know what harm they caused themselves…

But to speak the reality again, you don’t know until you try… and you’ve got to try in all the means you know how instead of just hoping for things on your terms. If you really want to talk to him, you gotta penetrate the social wall around them.

So I was f’n stoked on a Saturday Night when the Lightning tied the Stanley Cup finals. Keith, of course, is in disbelief. He had expected to be attending one of the upteenth city parites that would be going on if–no, WHEN the Flames had won.

But it didn’t happen that way.

So what happens when Keith gets home from Saddledome? He’s got to book hsi flight to Tampa. He had tickets lined up since the Flames / Lightning NHL Finals had been set. Game 7 tickets in fact. The series hadn’t been as good as we both had hoped but – gods – this was a game seven! You can’t scalp tickets for an event like this for less than 500 bucks… We got them through Ticketmaster before the game was even scheduled – so we’re in luck.

Sunday night, Keith was due to start flying to Tampa — going to Vegas first and then getting a connector flight / red eye to Tampa. Only problem was his flight was 2 hours late to begin with, which thus made him miss his connecting red-eye flight to Tampa.

Back in the Bay area I am going nuts Sunday night trying to figure out WTF has happened to Keith. He’s stranded, or is he moving? Flyte Comm basically confirmed where Keith was — just leaving Alberta – about the time I was ready to call it a night.

I decided to indeed call it a night, wondering what the hell was going to happen and how Keith woudl be when he finally got here – if he got here…?

I wake up bright and early Monday morning and have a sense of urgency running over me. Not just urgency but anxiousness. Within a couple of hours the Lightning would be playing for a world title and I would be in attendance.

Maybe.

My first thought is – where Keith? His connector fflight took off on time (fuck America West) and that meant he indeed missed his connector flight. I fought on the phone for a good hour trying to find out what happened to him and I find out (through America West customer service) that he’s “Taken another route and going to another city. He’s all right.”

Well, whoop-de-shit. He’s OK. Now where is he? “Sorry, can’t say… but he’s all right.” :rolleyes

I call his cell phone (which I am still told is a wrong number by parties that call back later — but it’s the same number that America West has in their system and same number I have from Keith directly) but I still tell him on his message service to give me a ring to let me knwo what happened and where he is…

I find out a little while later it’s Orlando, and he’s still on his way here.

Fast forward to his arrival around 4 in the afternoon — he’d been bounced around by America West with a few other Calgary fans and then finally gotten to the Bay area via bus, gotten his car and headed to the Burbs and my place. My parents suddenly had a complete change of heart and invited him to stay with us while he was here – nice gesture for people who were also giving me a hard time about having a stranger from out of town showing up without their knowledge (even though I had told them several times).

After a shower and a quick explination of being bounced from Vegas to Dallas to Orlando by America Worst airlines. He grabs a shower, then we skedaddle from the suburbs to our date with Lord Stanley’s cup.

I’ve never felt so guilty about winning before until that night. I could talk to you about the crowds at the St. Petersburg Times Forum in downtown Tampa, or getting screwed at a private lot and paying 25 bucks to park… I could tell you about horrendous conditions where we sat (talk about SLICK! Slipping and slidding everywhere!) or the asshole giving Flames fans a hard time a few rows behind us (who got yelled at by a hot mother who didn’t want her child to have to hear the obscenities coming out of the mofo’s mouth)… But most importantly the Lightning won the cup that night and I felt guilty as hell. i couldn’t celebrate because of how damaged Keith was from the loss and the horror of flight the last 2 days.

Still, it was a great event… I was really proud of some local fans who came up to Keith and shook his hand and pated him on the ack instead of jeering him after the Lightning won the cup.

The next two days were a whirlwind — I was on a high thinking about what had happened Monday night (the Lightning did the unthinkable – they won the Stanley Cup!) and wanted to show Keith around as best I could.

Clearwater Beach, Bellair. downtown Dunedin, Downtown Tampa — well, Downtown Tampa sorta got ruined because of the Victory Parade and me waiting for a friend who never showed up to chill with us…

That night ende4d the whirlwind as we attended a Devil Rays game – which I was purposely avoiding at most costs. Unfortunately for Keith it seems his attendance fo the game started a 11 game Rays winning streak (maybe 12 after tonight’s game against Toronto).

I could ramble on and on about things but I’ll skip that. Having Keith around was an excellent experience and I just wish it could have been better for him — well, better without the Flames winning the Cup. smile

It seems the last two times I went to a finer restaurant — not a fine restaurant where there is a proper dress code, but nicer, finer restaurant where sandals and tank tops still find there way into the building — I’ve been told to act like a pompous prick and seen family do just that when things go weird. My mom especailly…

Maybe a year ago I went to a restaurant in downtown Dunedin with family. Nice place, nice atmosphere, forgot the name of it though so you’ll have to forgive me. While dining I dropped my fork and family insisted that I not pick up the fork…. Well, not much family, just my mom. When other things happened, I was told that the waitress will handle it. It drove me insane to be waited on over mundane things. This wasn’t like “Let the waiter put a napkin on your lap” type stuff. This was just normal “I’m not a lazy slob” type stuff.

Skipping over that event and finer details of the event — we jump to last night and my dining experience at Sam Seltzers Steakhouse in Clearwater. Not fine dining but it was a hell of a nice place to go to and a hell of a long wait to have. We must have waited an hour and a half for seats (which I’ve always told my parents “Get reservations to that place if you insist on trying to eat there sometime”) and in some ways it was worth it because it was just a nice place to go to…

But then my mother’s pomposity came into it.

Maybe she’s getting eccentric in her age or maybe I’m just too damned sensitive to others. A waiter was trying to handle some dishes — i didn’t pay attention to the fact if they were dirty or clean plates he was handling. What happened was, he tried putting them on an assistance tray/table next to one booth and slipped — he had the plates come crashing down. And my mom clapped and applauded him.

She applauded him with the attitude of a pure-spirited “I don’t give a fuck” woman who was stuffing her face and trying to have a good time at others expense.

Rage bubbled up from within me in embarrassment. I wanted to get up and actually help the guy with the mess but the gimp known as Me can’t quite handle that. I fumed and started telling my mom exactly what I felt. “I can’t believe you did that! Lift your nose up a little higher, mom, lift it up a little higher for everyone to see you’re the most pompous person in the building.”

Yes, that was disrespectful… And who knows, maybe I was over-reacting…. But then again? I’ve been the guy who has to face a crowd after an embarrassing episode and I do NOT want other people to experience the humility of it all — especially when one prick goes off and tries to make me feel worse than I already do. Maybe the waiter didn’t care? Maybe he’d been through this a thousand times already? In any case, wrong is wrong and acting like a asshole in a restaurant is a no-no. You’re supposed to do unto others a you want done unto you right? So why do you start exploiting a persons goof / mistake in embarrassing circumstances instead of trying to help the situation?

If I was at my friends house and that happened — where my friend is the one dealing with dishes and what not, or someone who knows who I am and what I stand for is handling the dishes — I’d possibly do what my mom did and start exploiting it because it’s in jest, it’s good fun and people around me know I don’t mean any harm by it. I’d tell the person (if it wasn’t a person totally familiar with me) that I was just kidding around and teasing and try to help them out after… That’s the type of person I am after all.

I’m not going to act like a dick, however, in the company of strangers and make one person feel like complete shit…. That’s just plain wrong.

I got an email from the team that addressed me as a Season Ticket Waiting list member. I don’t recall ever adding my name to the season ticket waiting list. Hell, I don’t even have the money to get a season ticket – let alone would I enjoy being at Buc games (sorry boys but Football is better, for me at least, on Television).

And Keith is heading down here tonight and will be arriving early tomorrow morning in Tampa to catch the game and stay a couple of day sin Tampa Bay.

It”s odd enough for me to deal with the fact the Lightning are playing for the Stanley Cup, it’s been a wild last couple of days and last couple of weeks as I have had several things change around me — which I never blogged in here .

But now I have to play International Host which I have never done before. Hell, i have never traveled by myself and can’t fathom how Keith is doing it – flying from Calgary to Tampa… I feel some insecurities because I’m still a gimp for the most part and he wants to take in some events here in Tampa and o course i want to show him around too… And doing that by car isn’t exactly how I planned it.

ON one hand, I wan tot meet him and show him the beauty of Florida before the Bolts kick the shit out of the Flames (and after :tongue) :biggrin, and on the other hand – now I know the feeling that others might feel when they are told someone is going to be visiting their neck of the woods to almost specifically meet.

But then again – it’s immaturity to look for a escape route – which I’ve seen in the past. Which I’ve participated in, in the past.