this time is closer

and somehow, now, it's not what i wanted.

*

This isn't real life, I keep thinking to myself when I wake up every day.  It seems strange to find myself in a place I never really thought about, ever.  Working, liking to think I'm making a difference in some peoples lives when I can.  Being a viable part of the economy.

I have random talks with my aunt, generally concerning how I feel I'm at the make or break point of life:  I could continue down this path, and realistically, if I plan properly and the business I'm with continues onwards and upwards, I could achieve that "retire by 50" goal that all my other upper management has.  Sell out at the right time, invest appropriately, and don't be a fool.

*

I've been watching some random TED talks (and TEDx talks, 'cause you have to differentiate) online, about stuff that I should be interested in, and yet, I end up losing interest halfway through (they're typically less than 15-20 minutes, so...).  I'm chalking it up to the fact that it's not that I'm not still interested in the topics they're discussing, or the speaker isn't interesting or captivating or whatever, it's that what they're talking about is something I just don't find interesting anymore.

Which disturbs me in a way, because these are things that ten years ago I would have been all over.  But now, it's not that I'm saying Who Gives a Rat's Ass, but more like, yawn, Next!

On the other hand, maybe I am just watching crap TED videos.

*

The beauty of getting rid of your library of books is the ability to rebuild it according to what really mattered.  Rediscovering books that made an impression on me 10-15 years ago is kinda fun, especially when I find them in a Goodwill or Salvation Army for essentially nothing.  The key is to now find the collected works of Joseph Conrad in hardback from the 1920's...for less than $50.

*

this time is closer, and somehow, now, it's closer...
and somehow
it's not what i wanted

*

I forgot The Connells existed.  I sometimes think that this song exists simply to remind me of how futile and pointless I felt about everything between 1999-2000.

*

As a complete side note, I think I need to re-read Vollmann's 13 Stories and 13 Epitaphs.

*

Just purchased the above, as well as Karl Edward Wagner's The Book Of Kane.  Nothing like idiotic spending during late night hours.  Haven't read 13 Stories in over ten years.  The last copy of The Book of Kane that I knew of was stolen (hate to say it, but rightfully so)(not by me, but I did consider it...) from the Columbus Metropolitan Library sometime around 1996.  I read and re-read that book at least twenty times over four years. They never saw fit to replace it, of course.  KEW is the underappreciated direct heir of Robert E. Howard and Conan, and it pains me to know that he's essentially been swept into the dustbin of bad knockoffs.

*

I just about went into total geek/nerd/sci-fi/fantasy/deargodiknowiambutjustmakeitstop mode there. I could/would/should keep on going into the differences between Conan and Kane but I'm not, simply because who gives a fuck.  Bonus:  I never really cared for Conan, aside from the B&W comics that (I think) Marvel or some indie did during the '80s.  They had good stories and lots of naked women.  Mostly naked women.  And stories.  Good stories.

*

We'll pick this up later...

Cheers!  Happy St. Paddys Day.  And Fuck Ya'll for pretending you're Irish and you're not!

do you remember when twenty-one years was old?

She was looking at me, across the table, the look that one gets the morning after and the person you just spent the night with made you breakfast.  Seeing how no woman had ever made me breakfast before, I figured her slightly puzzled expression belied the fact that no guy had ever made her breakfast either. First times for everything.

She was at least wearing the robe I left out.  Gave myself a mental "attaboy" for purchasing a second robe for these kinds of situations.  Seeing how the trail of clothes essentially lead from the front door to the bedroom I thought it best to let common sense play out and allow the embarrassment to slide, not that there should be any in the first place.  Let's be serious:  It's not like my clothing wasn't scattered along the same trail.

*

We'd only met the previous night.  On a whim I actually went downtown, something I've never done since I moved here, simply to check out a hole in the wall Irish pub.  I took my traditional bag of work along with me so at least if I was bored or they were showing UFC on the tvs I'd have something to do while I drank a few pints and bullshitted with the bartender.  It's also a good conversation starter I've found, as well as a conversation ender.  Nice how it can be advantageous in both situations.

*

She finally picked up the knife and fork and dug in.  Thank God she isn't a nutrition freak I think to myself, seeing how it's my not yet famous french toast that is being eaten piece by piece.  We still haven't said anything yet this morning, which I find odd.

She takes a sip from the mimosa, and I finally decide to just go for it.

*

I was the only one at the bar when I sat down at 5 P.M.  I was sorting out the schedule two weeks out when she walked in.  Paul, the barkeep, knew her by name but she stayed at the other end, and ordered a black and tan.  I perked up hearing what she drank.

Within an hour she went from asking me what I was so "intensely working on" to sitting beside me and offering (unneeded) advice on where to fill in the empty shifts on my schedule.  By 10 P.M., and after a few drinks of course, I knew she had just gotten out of a six year relationship with a guy that had been cheating on her for five of those years, and she knew that I blew a great thing with a girl who made in one month what I made in a year.

*

"Hi, I'm Jeremy."

The look on her face was beautiful.

"Thank God."  She offered her hand.  I took it. "I'm Laura."

That stopped me for a second, since I recalled that she had the same name as an ex-girlfriend, but couldn't say for sure what name.  I shrugged it off.  Big fucking deal.

*

By 11 it was a done deal in my head, and sure enough we ended up back at my place.  We both drove, separately, which was a bad idea doubled. Talked outside the front door for a few minutes that turned into the wondering why aren't we in bed yet kind of non-conversation.

*

Let's just say that it was a good night.

*

I had forgotten that her name was Laura, just like she had forgotten my name and that her recent ex was Jim.  Fresh starts.  She said the french toast was good, but not the best (eh, it's a work in progress).  She loved how I had a robe set out for her, especially how she couldn't figure out where most of her clothes were.  I pointed out the trail that she had walked past and she simply replied "I'll get that when I'm ready".

We did the breakfast thing, got our lives straight, and then spent the rest of the afternoon back in bed.

It was the right thing to do.