Are you sure the Economy is going where?

Ramblings Post #12
Little did I realize that lurking beyond the edges of my own reality, another whole reality lay waiting to integrated into mine. And thus I bow my head and move unto the light of a new day. Or something like that. I just had the sudden urge to be poetic. Or something like that.

So this afternoon, after lazing away the morning not working on my paper, but thinking about it a whole whole lot (really), I went down to Little Five Points to pick up a few odds and ends.

For those not from Atlanta, Little Five Points is our really really small version of the really cool funky neighborhood where all the cool shops are - the ones where you can buy that really odd vase, that painting that looks Mel Gibson as an English lord, and all that other stuff that people ask "where did you get that?" They have the vintage clothing stores, the crystal stores, record shops, coffee houses, pubs, all that. You could kill a few hours here on a warm summer afternoon real real easy.

This hasty BBerry pic doesn't do it much justice.

I figured since the economy was not so hot, I could get in and out without too much hassle.

Wrong.

Are you sure we got a busted economy? Really really sure? Because there were crowds, full parking lots, kids strolling, couples holding hands, one really hot chick in a brown sweatsuit, stores full and folks buying stuff. They even had a line outside of the Vortex. A line. The Vortex sells hamburgers, folks, six and seven dollar hamburgers. I like the joint and all that, but it's really just a localized TGI Fridays. They had folks waiting to eat there!

Since I read the papers...okay the virtual papers...pretty much everyday it's rare a few hours pass where I don't read that our economy is now worth two aisles at Kmart or how we all need to start figuring out how to eat shoe leather. This afternoon I saw a disconnect. I stopped on the way to grab some groceries and damned if the grocery stores weren't full up too! I realize folks got to eat, but I expected less folks at the steak counter.

Am I missing something? Did Obama save us already?

I think I need to read some more news so I can be wary again.

Barkeep. Hot tea with a cinnamon stick. Three drops of Ginseng.

The mental needs a refit

This is a Vent Post!
This might have been a mental rehab post, but it's really just me yelling into the electronic darkness because I'm not really looking for an answer, I'm just talking to myself until I'm tired of listening to me. There are no answers here...and in this case I don't think I'm even trying to find some.

Okay...I realized last night after my second night of hanging out with pseudo cousin (don't ask) that maybe, just maybe...okay, definitely...I got issues that will eventually need real therapy.

First, I finished my law school prep class. That's right, I've decided at the ripe old age of too damn old that I'm going to sacrifice a lot of free time and the rest of my personal sanity and go back to school. Most of my friends are attorneys so it's like I'll just be joining the club. Shortly I start at GSU on the path to a few years of too much gut and scut work. Yay me! Well, at least the folks will be happy.

Okay, now back to my issue. I mean it's more than a passing thought, it's like I have to stop myself in the store from picking stuff up. I'm trying to figure out what's on my mind here, like what the fuck am I doing? Part of it was riding over to my pseudo cousin's spot and thinking "we need to go see what's good in there" as I passed a funky new restaurant when there is no we anymore. I mean in theory, this is someone else's job now. So why am I now mentally planning out what to get Sporty for her birthday?

Well, I already got like part of it.. so, it's not like it would be complete if I left out the rest. The date is a month and a half away. I'm planning things. Considering items. Um, problem? Yep, got one.

A little history. A few years ago at Christmas time, the first holiday season after she and I had started hanging out, I'd given her a gift bag of a whole bunch of stuff (she's hard to shop for) and she'd been delighted. So one night she calls me at home and asks my shoe size. She wants to buy me shoes for Christmas. Nice shoes. Okay, at the time I didn't know they were nice shoes, but they were really nice, fairly expensive shoes. And I told her not to get them.

Oh, for a time machine.

Not one of my better decisions. Turn in my playa card kinda bad. One of my great regrets.

Some say you shouldn't dwell on these things. I say you should learn from past mistakes, so you don't make them again. Some would ask why I'm putting my business out in the street. It's this or things get ugly, gotta let it all out somewhere and your modern day single black man has few options to vent without getting ostracized. Should have taken the shoes.

So, will I be getting the girl something for her birthday. Yes. Is it foolish of me to do so? Possibly. Do I really care? No.

So let it be written, so let it be...ooooh, pie.

A Weekend Out - Second Stage

Mental Rehab Post #8
Sitting around the house ain't gonna fix nothing. The problem is you have to want to be fixed and I think I'm still just going through the motions. But my acting is getting better, and the I'm starting to find the shadows again. Ah the stage.


Last weekend I spent prepping, then attending and then recovering from a single party. What can I say, we does it big. 500 people at a house party may seem like an end all be all to you, but if my instincts are right the fellas are already scheming up the next function.

One of the signs I'm getting old is when I think 500 people might just be too many. I say we keep it to a nice level 75 or 100, but then I don't usually have full control of the guest list.

This weekend was the second in getting my mind back to right...well, the appearance of getting my mind back to right.

Friday was the Jack Daniels event, a fusion of art, music and whatever else was happening in that room called Art, Beats and Lyrics. With free Jack Daniels. I got there right as they were starting, and maybe next time I'll read the invitation. Although apparently I wasn't the only one, as there were three or four kids in line when the invite specifically said "no one under 21". That fabulous the rules don't apply to me mentality.

Inside they had those annoying fake guitars setup and apparently you could tap the keys in feel like a rock star for three minutes. Oh Wow. Then I walked through the smoke wall and things picked up.

The room is huge, although the last time I was in the same room with a Old School Saturday event I promise you it felt much much bigger. Back then it felt like an aircraft hanger, now it just feels like a barn. On little three corner stands they've got art setup by local artists. And it's some good stuff too.

Soul Brother #1 and then some.

Blackstar and his pieces.

I chat with a guy whose artistic moniker is Blackstar about a few pieces and even see about some commission work. He's got some colorful pieces which will offset the black and white I have from other favorite artist, who oddly is setup in the next space. I can't spot him, but I know I need to holler at him to see I can pickup a few more prints.

A few of photo exhibits looked good. I get a card before I realize I'm fantasizing about a mundane activity that's not going to happen. I keep the card anyway.

The Race Card

The set is nice. Gentlemen Jack Daniels for the free-free, a nice set of art, some good artwork on the walls too, they got a live band coming on later, with a DJ and break dancing to open. It's a throwback kinda festive and you can just chill.

Only I can't I've promised to meet on old college buddy who I haven't seen in years for drinks a little later. So although the JD thing is looking live, I slip out a side door and whip down to the Ultimate Bar on Camp Creek Parkway. For those who are unaware, the development on Camp Creek is North Atlanta development finally come to the Southside of town.

I get there and my first thought...seriously...is that Dugan's went upscale kinda moved to Camp Creek and setup shop (It's an Atlanta concept, sorry. I'll explain later). I run into my old buddy and we share a few beers and talk noise to chicks at the next table half seriously for the next two hours - he's married, I'm in recovery. Then I accidentally try to pick up the 20 year old waitress who has three jobs. Don't see that one happening though for a variety of reasons. Nah.

Saturday is a little reading and a little me time. Okay, a little wake up and then fall back to sleep on the couch time until I have to go catch Schmoopy for brunch. Afterwards I think brunch might not have been the best idea, as I end up back on the couch. Way too much food. Okay, the fact that it's 95 degrees in my house and maybe 85 degrees outside might have had something to do with it. My uncle is supposed to helping me out, but when you're getting help you're at the mercy of their schedule. That and his AC works. So really once I got back to the house I'm laid out sweating like below decks on the Amistad. I didn't even bother to call looking for trouble. Which I understand I could have easily found. Stayed in.

Sunday...I cleaned up. Did a bunch of Laundry. Watched a Jack Lemmon movie on TMC (that is a great channel). Did my "homework". Forgot to eat until almost 8pm. Talked to my folks a little bit. Then talked to God. Yeah, thought about Sporty. Can't help it.

Still got a long way to go.

What hath Sam wrought?

I'm currently in the process of moving. The major stuff is at the new house, I'm having the usual "I didn't think this would be a problem" snafus but I'm slowly but surely toddling along to home ownership.

Note: One day this is going to say I got mugged outside my house...then we'll see what happens.

Anyway, for the last few days as I move I find myself in the bit of Americana that seems to draw us in despite our best intentions, our best works and best planning. The last few nights I've found myself at of all places....Walmart.

I'm not a big fan of Walmart. Aisle after aisle of semi-shoddy stuff and slightly disinterested workers (except for the older greeters, who really seem to like what they're doing) just doesn't say great shopping experience to me. But I needed a shower curtain at 10:30 at night, and a few towels...and some allergy medicine...and a fresh shirt for work since mine are either in storage or in the cleaners...and soda...and $1 DVDs....and some underwear...and, well you see where this is going?

But in the last couple of days I've been two Walmarts that are as strange as any I've ever been in.

They close.

At midnight, the Walmart closes. Whoever heard of such a thing? I'm used to being able to pop into a Walmart at 2am for some coasters, a ladder and nice watch for $6.99, ya know? But I've been to two Walmarts that actually post closing hours! I quite frankly was stunned.

Now these are relatively urban Walmarts, one of them practically breathing on downtown Atlanta, so maybe there are rules I don't know about. It just struck me as odd.

I'm suddenly not sure if I'm in the Walmart because my AC isn't working (long story) or I just need stuff. Well, I find out tonight.

Barkeep...I think I'll have a whiskey. With a President's Choice soda pop.