A voice in the darkness

Ramblings Post #113
The movie version of me, and we all have a movie version of ourselves, is a little taller, a lot thinner and just a little bit more confident than I. But at this stage in the drama (er, well comedy drama) that is my life would be like the end of a Bob Hope movie I saw once. After all his adventures and saving the day, his partner Bing Crosby gets the girl - and this from a 2 minute cameo just seconds before the closing credits. It’s your life, but I suggest you get script approval.

Things are...complicated.

Is this over?

I found out recently, and apparently for some time now, that Sporty has not only located but has been reading this blog. She let me know when she referred to herself as "Sporty", correcting me in a text when I called her Sunshine, a allusion to how she brightens my day. To put it mildly I was a little surprised. Then I thought about what that means.

And its kinda good and kinda bad.

Good in that a lot of stuff I probably put in here are things I should have said to her, and now she knows them without me actually having to voice them. That and she's not mad at me for writing about her. And bad because knowing she's reading may affect the honesty of future disclosures [self censorship] and the overarching concept of "screaming into the virtual darkness". Kind of a toss up really.

One can't really put something on the internet and expect no one to find it, especially since it's linked to my Facebook page, and she's one of my FB friends. But then so many people on Facebook never look at any thing beyond their own page after the first few days, so you figure, why not?

But then the girl has always been full of surprises and has a need to know, which is part of the attraction. *sigh*

In reality, there is hardly anything magical in here, nothing Sex in the City movie-esque as when Carrie found the emails from Big (yes, I did watch the FIRST movie). Some of the more intense things she's probably seen before. One or two moments when I really was "screaming into the virtual darkness" she probably hadn't, but realized must have happened. Nothing soul shattering. And since I'd made it fairly crystal clear to her my feelings, and we both know that they're closer to drug fantasy that any real possiblity, what I guess she would see in here is a few fleeting moments where I indulge in that fantasy. And talk about law school and politics. And restaurants.

It does however paint a fuller picture of me.

Wait, there goes that pesky hope again. Sometimes you get a little disoriented when you have to reclassify a hope as a dream. And hope is something I can't afford.

Barkeep. Riesling. Two glasses. Thanks.

Summer Comment Drive

Ramblings Post #112
It takes actual thought to concentrate on the goings on of the world, and since I don't want to comment on the Kagan confirmation hearings (political) or the state of summer television, or really anything, else. And right now I'm not in the mood. So, I'm gonna semi - recycle something I did two years ago. And no, I still haven't donated to WABE.

Welcome to the middle of our Summer Comment Drive. The writer of this blog in conjunction with the fevered recesses of his mind and the occasional help of frustration and Booker’s(fine whiskey) work hard to bring you the reader a compelling and interesting read. We cover a broad range of topics from stuff that doesn't matter to stuff that doesn't matter even less, all with sly eye for wit and a dashing raucous style.

And it's not cheap.

I know you're thinking: what is he talking about? The internet is free. Or at least the part he's on. And if this fool thinks we're going to pay for this... Hey, hey, calm down. Not that. But here at the virtual bar we've got a virtual tab that has be calculated by the same virtual computers needed to mathematically figure why people play World of Warcraft for any reasonable amount of time, considering the challenges of this World. So...what is this old whiskey soaked, but reasonably good looking, old man sniffling on about?

My ego.

I said my EGO! E - G - O. Minds all in the gutter, but then that's why I like you.

Feel free to comment, leave a note, get a word in, drop a line, ask questions, correct me, make a speech, get your point across, put in your two cents in, be wrong, start an argument, make a false assumption, lie, conspire to make me a better human being, attempt a verbal coup, lay it all on the line, tell me off, but jeez, just say something... dammit.

So, you come and read the fine stylings and occasional rant, and decide to contribute a comment or at least a snide remark, what do you get?

For one comment you'll get NOT the green lifestyle tote bag, NOT the handcrafted coffee mug, NOT the key ring with the craftily designed extractor of caps which enclose liquids (i.e., bottle opener), NOT the nine piece dish set or the my double CD - the one of me singing Old Showtunes in Russian on disc 1, and me giving Charleston and French lessons on disc 2. No, you'll receive the Grand Prize, and since I don't actually have any of the afore mentioned stuff, what is really the only prize: A really good feeling for having said something.

And it will feel great. Well good anyway. Okay. It's not a bad feeling. Think of it as finger exercise.

The staff here at the Musings, and by staff I mean when I talk to myself in the kitchen, would like to thank you for checking in, and ask that you do your part to support this fine bit of foolishness we've thrown up and nobody has been smart enough to take down yet. Your comment and $1 wouldn't buy a cup of coffee, but a comment might just help out a guy writing because he likes it and who probably keep on writing in any case, keep on writing for reasons other than the reasons he's already got to keep doing what he's already doing but that said your comment would be greatly appreciated.

Operators are standing by....

Good help ain't cheap!

Tiger what have you done?

Ramblings Post #111
I've talked about Tiger Woods a lot, and this is yet another Tiger Woods post. I am at once shocked and surprised at this whole thing, and really really trying to wrap my head around the idea that the people who advise him get paid in real, not monopoly money. Apparently life really is more about who you know than what you know, in many, many instances.

Do pre-nuptial agreements not mean anything any more? I'm fairly certain the damn thing Tiger had her sign had a "if I ever cheat on you" clause, and if it didn't Tiger's lawyers need to call their lawyers, because that looks like pure malpractice, and I don't even know enough law to matter.

How much is your privacy worth?

$750 million?

Because according to some sources, that's how much Tiger is willing to pay his soon to be ex-wife to never speak about his affairs or life in any public forum. Which is in my professional learned semi-legal opinion, is in-fucking-sane.

Tiger needs new handlers, point blank. Early on they have apparently counseled him to protect the wife at all costs - she was brave and pulled him out of the SUV, she didn't hit him with the clubs, I have a sickness, it's all my fault etc, - and she is repaying his efforts by trying to fleece him. His handlers need to realize Tiger's marketable reputation is trashed. The endorsement money is gone and ain't coming back for a long, long time, if ever. The idea that lurid stories aren't going to float around for the next half century if you get ONLY the ex to promise to keep quiet is ludicrous. His handlers need to realize that his future earnings (which what presumably they are trying to protect) have been shattered, and what he really needs to do is work on keeping the money he has now. Somehow he's gonna have to get by on that mere billion dollars or so that he's already got for fifty years or so.

As a friend of mine put it, $750 million is "playing with little boys" money. As far as we know, no children were in involved, just skanks of varying persuasions, so... what ELSE is there to keep quiet about? That he's a slob? He's a cheater too. That he's egotistical? Um, Tiger Woods on the course, 'nuff said. That he made her dress up like chicken? Be happy he didn't make you dress up like a waitress. Does he have gay tendencies? You ain't the first to say it. He accidentally gave her something? We'd be shocked if he didn't. So what secret is worth that kinda loot?

Should have married a sista.

If she wants to write a book and give interviews and tell the worst about him, fine. His people need only remind her that no matter what happens, he's still her children's father, and that it will only hurt the kids in the long run. I'm not psychic, but unless she's crazy vindictive as all hell, that should put the brakes on the worst of it. Maybe. And chances are, in this day and age if somebody besides her knows this secret, the dirt is gonna leak anyway, so you're paying her for.... you lost me.

Look, yes Tiger was wrong (plus) hanging out like that, and yes, Elin deserves to have her life back, but their agreement prior to the marriage was if XYZ occurred, QRS would happen. Well XYZ occurred. Now you want to change the plan? Who are his lawyers? Who are his handlers?

But.... if she gets the money...Elin, baby, I know you been hurt, but what you need is a strong brother to help you spend the money...er, take the pain away.

Barkeep, a whiskey and soda, and a roofie-colda.

[UPDATE] Well, it turns out "sources" were wrong and she's only got get a $100 million. Boo hoo. She is still getting five times the amount in the prenup. The kids won't go hungry, which was in the important part...but I don't anyone ever thought that was gonna happen.

Life Changes

Ramblings Post #110
My first post, oh so long ago was about changes. Okay, looking back, it was the third post actually. And a lot has changed since I started writing this. Okay, a lot has changed and lot hasn’t. Most of it was things I could control. But I have an odd tendency to place my bets on the things I don’t. Oh, imagine me with a gambling problem and some money.

During a quiet evening with Shade at Intermezzo, I made the statement to her, "Think about it, I'm funny, warm, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, I'm the perfect guy. You just don't want to see me naked."

She did not disagree.

And earlier I had a discussion with Spanky about the different versions of herself, the 2003 version vs. the 2010 version, and how they are different people in the same body. She later asked me what the difference was between 2003 me and 2010 me. She’s still waiting on that answer. My answer is a little more complicated than I’m willing to admit, because a while a lot has changed a few fundamental pieces have remained unreasonably static. And that needs to change.

So I'm starting on a new course, making some life changes. I have a problem with procrastination that I’m going to work on, and I have a horrible tendency to get off on tangents. And with any luck, and little perseverance, in about four or five months I'll be significantly "less bulky" that I am now. A new diet, a new gym commitment, a new attitude.

Okay, I've made that last promise before, a couple of times. Okay more than a couple of times. A few times. This time I'm serious. Well, more serious than any other time. So far.

We shall see.

I did decide to go to law school. But then I beginning to think I went for all the wrong reasons. But I think I’m gonna be staying for some completely different reasons.

My Brother's book

Ramblings Post #109
This is what they call the final straw. I said I was gonna do it, and since I have the time now, what with the PS3 pilfered, I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna finish one of the many novels I’ve been working on since....a period of time I’m too ashamed to admit. Which works well with my life changes theme currently in play. Okay, it’s not the final straw, but it sure is a good reason to get back to something I do like to do.

For ages my older brother has talked about publishing a book. The Great African American Novel. It’s an odd wish when I think about it, in this day age but I guess my older brother and I are kind of a black down market version of Frasier and Niles Crane: Maybe a little too smart for our own good, maybe a little to urbane, maybe a little too intellectual. My brother runs a blog that covers political commentary while I do...well this. Our mother was a school teacher and I think it shows.

Think black, without the cool suits, or the money.
And one of us actually is balding!

And he’s been working on a novel, as have I, for years now. While other black guys work on a way to put rims on what they’re driving, or try for a record deal, or promoting parties... my brother and I have been “studying the human condition” so we can distill it down to words that educate and inspire. Well, he has, I’ve been trying to write something funny. Well, recently, thanks to the modern technology of Kindle and other ebook readers, he's put together a tome of short stories and managed to get it, I guess, published. Well, e-published.

For some reason he called it DaddyMomma.

He said he named it that a while back and the title stuck with him for some reason, and now means something to him. What it means I’m still working on.

I have yet to read it, due to the pilferage from my house. My backup computer system won't support any of the available e-readers it downloads in (the back up runs on Windows 2000, the readers start at Vista). But I guess i've read snippets and parts of it for years now, a short story here, a story idea there, and to be honest if you plan on checking it out, my brother specializes in literature.

What is literature?

First, let me tell you what literature mostly isn't. It mostly isn't that the "african american author" section in your local book store, with a vast cadre of books that read like badly concieved, outlined and written rap albums in word form. The stories are for the most part exploitative thuggery, simplistic, the characters cardboard or worse, the writing uneven and disjointed. My younger brother bought me a book a few years ago for Christmas, and it nearly spurred me into a writing frenzy as I finished. The idea of that hot mess being published and me not writing anything for publication was like someone laughing at my soul. And I don’t like to be laughed it. Unless I’m telling jokes.

No, my brother writes about themes, and ideas, and characters with depth and flaws. Deep thought provoking stuff. That’s literature. I've seen the other stuff he wrote, but until I get either the wireless for the laptop connection or a new computer, this novel is gonna have to wait for a second, but I’m fairly certain this isn’t a tome of jokes and funny stories. His works are usually about relationships - between father and son, old and young, just stories about people. Literature need not have a compelling story - like a spy novel or adventure tale - but it merely needs to make you think. And my brother is big on making people think.

I just realized that he also doesn’t really ever read what I send him. Interesting. Partly because I'm guessing, what I write doesn't seem to make him want to think.

When I finish, I'm gonna send him the whole thing and ask for a page by page commentary.

Yeah right.

Barkeep, did I tell you my brother wrote a book?

My Second Worst Birthday Ever

Ramblings Post #108
I guess that there are moments in life that teach us lessons: Your mother knew more than you realized or, sometimes it pays more to listen than to speak, or maybe next time you'll read the instructions. Today's lesson is "Things can be replaced, people are more important". Of course I could have learned this next month, or next year, but no, I had to learn it on my birthday.

So I get the internet back on Tuesday. And I've got an item or two in the hopper for the weekend, got a major change of life scheduled to start next week, life is getting on track for once. Sure there is a rough spot or two, but if it was easy it wouldn't be worth it.

But today is my birthday, so it should all be swell, right? (I can't believe I used the word swell)

Only I'm not really feeling it. Something about the day is off. So when I pick up the phone around noon and see I have a missed call....from my alarm company...my sense of foreboding comes to fruition. Somebody has been in my house.

They took the PS3 and my newer desktop computer, and tried to take the flat screen. Had they gotten the flat screen you would be watching the live feed from CNN of a crazed man running through the streets of Atlanta.

So today has been calling trying to get everything back to balance. I called my Mom - to avoid the you should have called me phone call later, and Spanky - because we tight like that, and my personal Contractor - who does everything else. Not in that order. Worse, I had to be out of the office, which is bad because what I do is a day to day thing, my back up was taking a day off and so the work will either be double tomorrow or triple on Monday. So I got that going for me.

I talked to Sporty who reminded me that things could be replaced and she was just glad it was stuff and not me. My uncle stopped by and promised to send my cousin and hooked me up with guy he knows who is also a contractor that could help me out today.

So I guess it about family. And prioritizing. Because in the end, this is my stuff.

I'm waiting on my contractor...and my uncle's guy, and just kinda seeing what happens.

Barkeep. The Woodford Reserve. If I'm in, let's go.