Earth , wind and java.

Last night, the wind blew here like I had never seen it, literally waking me from my nappers.. (Yeah I fell asleep on the couch, so sue me) Anyways.. I get up to hear this godforsaken sound of multiple windchimes chiming to the point of mental nausea. I look out the window to see one of our plastic deck chairs flying across the yard.. Ok, if you have ever been to my house you know our yard is friggan big.. I rush outside, and feel the wind, and an instant removal of the heat from my body… I believe I could cut glass with my nips.. Damn the onset of fall!

I spent a little longer than I would have liked turning chairs over and taking down those damn chimes.. granted I like them, when caressed by a soft summer breeze they are actually nice.. not so much when kissed by a fall torrent.. I guess it is time for them to go back into the box of stuff that sits all year til may.. That is when fall is truly here. That and the fact that the weather man says it is gonna drop from eighty to the sixties in ten days.. ummmm hellooo, ever heard of moderation there mother nature.. I kinda enjoy the eighties, ya know, miami vice, tears for fears, and hypercolor (yeah, I actually had one... if you played sports in em everyone knew because your armpits where orange.) The sixties are filled with hippies (great music, but stinky).. maybe if I smoked some hippie juju weed I wouldn't care.. ha I did my fair share in highschool, and am pretty sure I still would bitch about the temperature drop, the air would still be waaaayyy tooooo cooooooolllllllddd maaaannn, damn juju.

Making coffee:

So I get up this morning to make some joe, and realize I am completely out of ground coffee.. I not at the peak of my game in the morning till I caffeinate my bloodstream.. So I attempt to use the auto grind and perk deal on the coffee maker… Have NO idea how many beans to cup ratio, I usually grind then scoop have it down to a science.. so this grind and brew is out of my jurisdiction.. I didn’t want to make molasses, only Mr. T. so I go easy on the beans and get the last shade of Michael Jackson before he became white.. DAMN I shout..

Making coffee 2:

So time to grind.. in my half asleep state I fill the grinder, in fact overfill watching beans skip across the counter like little school girls in different directions.. DAMN I shout, I pick them up and add them to the top of the pile, after all God made dirt right? Here I sit, waiting patiently for my damn strong coffee.. (speaking of Peets in Portland makes a good cup of coffee, STRONG stuff)

Ahhhm first sip, little black coffee cherubs frolic on my tongue.. I feel it pulsating through my veins, oh wait.. I feel my wit returning, I see the world through a new set of eyes, I feel love and hatred and joy and sorrow… thank god for java.

What dreams may not come?

I think the sandman is slipping.. I think he came in to my room last night after being at a kegger and skimped out on dusting my sleep eyes… what a prick, I am gonna set a boobie trap for him and take the whole bag.. knock off for a week. Really, what is with insomnia? Who is the psychologist who determined what the parameters are and what is should be called? Because I would like to make a number 1 on his headstone.. Picture this, 3am…. got it.. good, now picture me sleeping like a little shepherd boy amongst the lambs (nothing of the sexual nature now. You may have heard things about some sheep farmers but not this guy I assure you)..

Can you visualize my little eyelids fluttering? So BAM, the wolf comes and I wake up.. Now, for the next three hours I toss and turn in discomfort trying to get back to the green valley of sleep… But nay, it is not on the horizon.. there is no happy little dream world for me.

Seems like when I finally nodded back off at 6, my alarm goes off at 8.. I reset it for 9 though.. Like an extra hour is going to replace the precious date I had with my pillow, yeah, we make out.

I had a little of excitement on the agenda for today, maybe that is what jerked me from the land of dreams.. Isn’t it funny how even as adults we get excited about things, we don’t openly admit it like a kid on Christmas morning who is overly eager and wakes his parents at 5am because Santa came. But it is there, lurking in our minds, that anticipation, that enthusiasm, driving you to want tomorrow to come.

Well it turns out things fell through as they sometimes do, understandable. Life doesn’t run the way we desire it to sometimes and we are left with that “aw come on maa” feeling as if we were that same kid told to get outta the pool on a summer day (yea I am all over the place with seasons). Today probably worked out the best because I am a little groggy due to mr. sandmans party antics, and I truly want to enjoy the events I had planned for today. More so the company.

ME

YES!

I can't believe I actually thought this was a cool cartoon as a kid.. Better than the stuff kids watch today, cartoon Mr. T would easily make Dora the Explorer his bitch, and I am sure Dozer (Mr. T's mohawk totin dog) would turn the mystical Backpack into a pile of magic satchel of shredded fabric... But honestly, what the hell would he being doing with a gymnastic team? Not too tough in my book, although I am sure the Mary Lou Retton's of today would kick my ass.. (if nobody saw it would be worth it..lol) But I see now what a far cry this cartoon is from Sgt. Bosco "B.A." Baracus..

Ahh, to enjoy my morning Mr. T and a flashback to my childhood! Honestly though, how the hell did he get funding for this song? It is worse than when the Chicago Bears tried to rap... "I pidy da fool," who was an investor...

PM to AM

Dear god how in the hell does ones brain work past midnight after a long day of running around? Oh, I remember Mr. T in a mug… Damn me for making a cup of Joe so thick Harry Carey could cut the contents in half and use them to call a game… from his grave! Thats thick baby.

Good news, I am making my acting return to Central Oregon the last weekend in October. It is a murder mystery performed at the resort at Suttle Lake.. A solid two day show set in the old west, where we have to be in character the whole time.. incredible! I get some scratch (70’s ghetto term for money) for the gig and they front room and board.. Talk about a good little deal..

However, I will most likely have to depart directly after to celebrate the greatest damn holiday in the history of holidays.. Halloween! What a better way to celebrate than dressing like an ass and consuming enough adult beverages that you think you are le creme de la creme; even though the spandex huggin your ass looks like le crap de la crap! The best part of the evening is you actually look tits to most people because they are in the same boat, the SS Inebriated.. Well at least at the shindigs I attend.. God bless ethanol!

I sympathize for the "JW’s" out there. Not celebrating holidays must really be depressing sometimes… I will take some time that evening to deeply contemplate the benefits of your religious standing, as I gorge myself on mini snickers.. But you know, perhaps I will be a gem and leave you one on the doorstep in exchange for the latest copy of “The Watch Tower.”

In all seriousness, I am not in any way, shape, or form anti certain religions, not at all! No I believe in religious freedom. We would not be the great nation we are without it; we would still be persecuted for following our paths to enlightenment and righteousness. No, I am simply anti not having fun on holidays like everyone else, and that is why my door is locked on Saturdays. I am napping, go away.

With that, Mr. A says Mr. T must exit the building..

ME

As dawn breaks (4 hours ago)

Ahhh, morning. There is something about this time of day that is just phenomenal. I mean after the whole I don’t want to get out of bed, possibly hitting the snooze button, I usually am innocent of that, but there have been some occasions. Cup of fresh brewed java, black and strong like Mr. T.. Minus the gold chains of course and any thoughts of homosexuality. My coffee has to be fresh ground goodness, because I refuse to drink anything from the evil likes of cartel leader Juan Valdez.. “Richest coffee in the world..” my ass.. If you enjoy cardboard!

Mornings these days offer a little more freedom as I wait for the guillotine called work to start up. I will long for these precious sun breaking through moments when I am bustin my keaster.

My creativity has been flowing lately for several reasons.. a)it has been stimulated in a game of verbal badminton I have been playing lately via IM b)it has rained lately which forced me to do something indoors using my brain c)I am just outright funny and the world should hear of it.

It could also be that I have strayed from filling my belly with gallons of microbrews lately and the dormant brain cells of smarts are waking for a season of hunting (them being bears or lions or something that actually hunts, not little rabbits or squirrels. No these brain cells leave little furry piles after they relieve themselves ).

Honestly though, I just miss writing. I mean it was my major, until I changed it, and to put words down on paper or screen, just seem to release us from our wondering thoughts and ideas. Writing gives us the freedom to live as we wish, to travel where we want, to be who we long to be, with no consequences. How amazing is it that symbols (letters) can form larger symbols (words), to record and explain the complexity of human thought. If I can get myself to jot something down here it will stimulate the parts of my man mind that are usually displaced by normal guy thinking. Pillaring around beer, fixing things, food (usually something not too healthy), and that other thing that men think about…....... a lot.

So, as I polish off my cup of Mr. T.. (god that sounds bad)… So, as I polish off my cup of joe.. (that really isn't that much better).. So, as I polish off my cup of java, I give thanks to this morning, to this website, and to me, well because I am just pretty darn clever. (well at least in my mind..)

Me

Return to the Blogger

That kind of sounds like the title for a cheap horror film.. "Return to the Blogger,"starring some no name hack actor who performed sexual favors for the very aged wife of a Hollywood producer who doesn't care because he has a mistress in her twenties, who is actually the actors ex girlfriend. That reminds me of why I moved out of Southern California. Sorry, didn't mean to ramble.
Return to the Blogger, is my revisit to this site in which I posted many forced responses during my college internment, only rekindled by the inspiration of a young woman I met recently whose writing made me miss being here. Now, free of the oppressive shackles of education (which will be short lived as I am currently investigating grad programs), I will share with you some of the great joys of my life in the Pacific North West. You will be awed by the unbelievably faced paced lifestyle of Central Oregon (yeah..... right). Furthermore, for your reading pleasure I will command the English language in canter that will memorize you, or at least be moderately interesting for a moment, possibly less than that. None the less, I ask you to join in the creation of my blog.

ME