Here I am at the Killeen airport, about to board a plane for the first time n a couple of years. The keyboard on this netbook is tiny, so expect typos.
This afternoon I'll be n Tennessee for the first time since August 2008. When I left Seattle, this was to be my final destination, so I'm glad I'm making it, I guess.
I feel like I'm going the wrong direction, though.
And... I'm flying. I had every intention of making the entire trip without leaving the ground, but this turned out to be the path of least resistance.
Um, so why am I taking it?
Everything about this feels wrong.
Anybody in the Nashville area up for a road trip?
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The Path of Adversity (cue epic soundtrack music)
So, these past two months have been intense, and have made much sense out of the nonsense that my life has been for the past three years.
Like any good American, I have come to enjoy and expect instant gratification. So throughout my time in Seattle, I believed I'd learned why I was there, and built from there. So it took me by surprise to recently learn why I was actually there (and have to admit at this point that the answer to that question may turn out to be grander still).
There was a verse from the Murder By Death song, "A Second Opinion," which I adopted as my theme for moving to Seattle: "I watched you grow. I saw you fall again and again. You'd cut your knee & start to bleed, but wouldn't let the pain in. Let the dogs bite at your ankles. Let the sunshine burn your eyes. But... will you just walk away this time?"
My entire time in Tennessee was defined by taking the easy way out. I had been a spoiled child in Texas, and learned plenty about not working hard, and getting what I wanted. I was aware that this was my past, but I didn't know how to break out of it. Life was too easy, and I'd learned from my few [relatively] difficult times that life had more to teach me when the good times were gone.
I was terribly depressed. The enjoyment I got from hanging out, playing video games & watching television was always undermined by the fact that I could be getting more from life.
I'd been learning that ever since I'd moved to Tennessee, but I was never really aware of it until I met Michael, who felt the same way. He and I would spend day & night & day, at the mall, at Waffle house, and on walks across campus, discussing this very thing.
This perspective on life defined me, was me. I cared little for anything outside of considering, reading, learning about what kind of life could be meaningful to me. The work I did irritated me, the conversations I had with most people disappointed me. Other than Michael, and later Katie, nobody seemed to feel this way about life. I wanted to devote my life to something meaningful to me, and I was fed up with the distractions that seemed to make up 90% of my life. No friends, family, girls, jobs, or anything meant more to me than this devotion, and I was ready to leave them all behind. I was ready for years, before I finally did.
By July 2007, I was jobless and homeless, and completely devoted to what I considered the Path of Adversity. And life was good.
I suffered, but did not feel punished. I think that was the key. I had nothing I felt I needed to atone for. I stopped apologizing to myself for not doing what I felt I should, and just started doing it.
I have photos from Hawai'i, that make record of the beautiful things I saw. You can see me and Jeremy living in a tent on the beach, living on a sailboat, hiking, camping, swimming. On paper, the perfect vacation. But it wasn't a vacation. It was "the first day of the rest of my life" every day. In those pictures, you can see mountains, forests, beaches, but you don't see me curled up in the fetal position in someone's back yard, crying because I believed I would die within weeks, without a job or money.
This was nearer what I felt my life should be, but still too easy. I spent that week thinking I would die, but once I realized the truth of the matter, I was fine, growing comfortable. If there's anything I hate most, it is how I cling to comfort.
I'd taken a course in Social Philosophy in college, and hadn't cared for it. Now that I had a greater sense of "life doesn't have to be like this," I began to think more about how life could be. It didn't require starting from scratch or doing everything differently. I just required reconsidering premises on which things were based.
Reading Daniel Quinn's books helped with that, as did studying Buddhism.
This is what Scott and I would talk about in Murfreesboro, and when he and I moved to Tucson, we pursued these ideas practically. Jobless & effectively squatting, I worked my way into things like having a job and doing household repairs while considering what was behind the actions I took.
Before that, everything had been a matter of spiritual philosophy. I had a strong basis in faith, and wanted to live by it. By the time I'd gotten to Tucson, I was fairly balanced between spiritual and social philosophy. As friends go, I had Leslie and Dawna with me on the one side, and Scott and Adrienne with me on the other.
But as I've learned recently, when I got to Seattle, I essentially bottled up my spiritual side. I would have denied it all the while, and it wasn't completely gone. I'd just applied certain blinders to it. I was a fool, not being suspicious of my sudden change in attitude.
I was still as fully applied to change and growth as I could be. Scott, Adrienne, my father, Jennifer, Anna.... these were the people who I talked with most, and they all wanted to see things change as much as I did. Abhor comfort, go through hard times, live a life that is worth living. We were going to be the Revolution.
Seriously. We hadn't just decided to do something.We had a plan, and it was a simple plan, and it was a somewhat realistic plan, only requiring enough of a leap of faith to satisfy my sense that things shouldn't be too easy. (And, for the record, it was a nice, fun plan, requiring no violence or politics.)
But its time came and passed, and we got bogged down in the mundane details of life. I will not speak for the others, but for my part, I got bogged down in trying to be a normal person. I had a house and a girlfriend and a garden and pets and friends.
I am not a normal fucking person.
I left Seattle thinking of what we could do to change the world. I asked Scott, my primary partner in this crime, what he thought, and he replied:
His answer should have been mine too, I realized at the time. By removing myself from my spiritual philosophy, I had become a cypher. My social philosophy had come to consider "The Greater Good" rather than myself. I had forgotten that this path had begun by, and was meant to be centered on, following my heart. Scott's reply brought my attention to this fact, but knowledge of it failed to help me understand what I should do next.
Whether for good reason or not, I am not prepared to blog about what happened over the month after Scott's reply. Maybe you'd think I was crazy, maybe you would think me wicked, but I am neither, and in the end it's none of your business. Suffice it, for now, to say I had spirituality shoved down my throat, and I exercised long atrophied muscles by putting myself to the test and by facing unbearably hard decisions. There were ghosts and fears faced, and there was Recognition. Perhaps most importantly, I again realized and accepted that I want nothing more than to be on the path of adversity.
And so "I walked the road from Tucson to San Antonio, the smell of blood on my breath."
I have more to say on said path, speculation on what it means to travel it, and on what it is at all. But I've already spent two hours writing this, and have so much more to say. But at least this post does what each on this blog ought to -- I've told you where I am, and how it is to be here.
At the moment, I don't feel like I'm "almost there," but I feel like I'm getting there. And it's damned difficult. So, hooray for me.
Like any good American, I have come to enjoy and expect instant gratification. So throughout my time in Seattle, I believed I'd learned why I was there, and built from there. So it took me by surprise to recently learn why I was actually there (and have to admit at this point that the answer to that question may turn out to be grander still).
There was a verse from the Murder By Death song, "A Second Opinion," which I adopted as my theme for moving to Seattle: "I watched you grow. I saw you fall again and again. You'd cut your knee & start to bleed, but wouldn't let the pain in. Let the dogs bite at your ankles. Let the sunshine burn your eyes. But... will you just walk away this time?"
My entire time in Tennessee was defined by taking the easy way out. I had been a spoiled child in Texas, and learned plenty about not working hard, and getting what I wanted. I was aware that this was my past, but I didn't know how to break out of it. Life was too easy, and I'd learned from my few [relatively] difficult times that life had more to teach me when the good times were gone.
I was terribly depressed. The enjoyment I got from hanging out, playing video games & watching television was always undermined by the fact that I could be getting more from life.
I'd been learning that ever since I'd moved to Tennessee, but I was never really aware of it until I met Michael, who felt the same way. He and I would spend day & night & day, at the mall, at Waffle house, and on walks across campus, discussing this very thing.
This perspective on life defined me, was me. I cared little for anything outside of considering, reading, learning about what kind of life could be meaningful to me. The work I did irritated me, the conversations I had with most people disappointed me. Other than Michael, and later Katie, nobody seemed to feel this way about life. I wanted to devote my life to something meaningful to me, and I was fed up with the distractions that seemed to make up 90% of my life. No friends, family, girls, jobs, or anything meant more to me than this devotion, and I was ready to leave them all behind. I was ready for years, before I finally did.
By July 2007, I was jobless and homeless, and completely devoted to what I considered the Path of Adversity. And life was good.
I suffered, but did not feel punished. I think that was the key. I had nothing I felt I needed to atone for. I stopped apologizing to myself for not doing what I felt I should, and just started doing it.
I have photos from Hawai'i, that make record of the beautiful things I saw. You can see me and Jeremy living in a tent on the beach, living on a sailboat, hiking, camping, swimming. On paper, the perfect vacation. But it wasn't a vacation. It was "the first day of the rest of my life" every day. In those pictures, you can see mountains, forests, beaches, but you don't see me curled up in the fetal position in someone's back yard, crying because I believed I would die within weeks, without a job or money.
This was nearer what I felt my life should be, but still too easy. I spent that week thinking I would die, but once I realized the truth of the matter, I was fine, growing comfortable. If there's anything I hate most, it is how I cling to comfort.
I'd taken a course in Social Philosophy in college, and hadn't cared for it. Now that I had a greater sense of "life doesn't have to be like this," I began to think more about how life could be. It didn't require starting from scratch or doing everything differently. I just required reconsidering premises on which things were based.
Reading Daniel Quinn's books helped with that, as did studying Buddhism.
This is what Scott and I would talk about in Murfreesboro, and when he and I moved to Tucson, we pursued these ideas practically. Jobless & effectively squatting, I worked my way into things like having a job and doing household repairs while considering what was behind the actions I took.
Before that, everything had been a matter of spiritual philosophy. I had a strong basis in faith, and wanted to live by it. By the time I'd gotten to Tucson, I was fairly balanced between spiritual and social philosophy. As friends go, I had Leslie and Dawna with me on the one side, and Scott and Adrienne with me on the other.
But as I've learned recently, when I got to Seattle, I essentially bottled up my spiritual side. I would have denied it all the while, and it wasn't completely gone. I'd just applied certain blinders to it. I was a fool, not being suspicious of my sudden change in attitude.
I was still as fully applied to change and growth as I could be. Scott, Adrienne, my father, Jennifer, Anna.... these were the people who I talked with most, and they all wanted to see things change as much as I did. Abhor comfort, go through hard times, live a life that is worth living. We were going to be the Revolution.
Seriously. We hadn't just decided to do something.We had a plan, and it was a simple plan, and it was a somewhat realistic plan, only requiring enough of a leap of faith to satisfy my sense that things shouldn't be too easy. (And, for the record, it was a nice, fun plan, requiring no violence or politics.)
But its time came and passed, and we got bogged down in the mundane details of life. I will not speak for the others, but for my part, I got bogged down in trying to be a normal person. I had a house and a girlfriend and a garden and pets and friends.
I am not a normal fucking person.
I left Seattle thinking of what we could do to change the world. I asked Scott, my primary partner in this crime, what he thought, and he replied:
I am not trying to change the world. I am trying to change myself. Through this maybe I will change my world. That would be okay. And maybe if enough of us engage ourselves thusly the world would be affected as well. But my goal is not to change anything but myself and how I interact personally with my world.
His answer should have been mine too, I realized at the time. By removing myself from my spiritual philosophy, I had become a cypher. My social philosophy had come to consider "The Greater Good" rather than myself. I had forgotten that this path had begun by, and was meant to be centered on, following my heart. Scott's reply brought my attention to this fact, but knowledge of it failed to help me understand what I should do next.
Whether for good reason or not, I am not prepared to blog about what happened over the month after Scott's reply. Maybe you'd think I was crazy, maybe you would think me wicked, but I am neither, and in the end it's none of your business. Suffice it, for now, to say I had spirituality shoved down my throat, and I exercised long atrophied muscles by putting myself to the test and by facing unbearably hard decisions. There were ghosts and fears faced, and there was Recognition. Perhaps most importantly, I again realized and accepted that I want nothing more than to be on the path of adversity.
And so "I walked the road from Tucson to San Antonio, the smell of blood on my breath."
I have more to say on said path, speculation on what it means to travel it, and on what it is at all. But I've already spent two hours writing this, and have so much more to say. But at least this post does what each on this blog ought to -- I've told you where I am, and how it is to be here.
At the moment, I don't feel like I'm "almost there," but I feel like I'm getting there. And it's damned difficult. So, hooray for me.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Wow, I've gotten quite behind on the ol' blog. I mean, I'm usually behind, but I'm also usually not doing a damned thing. But now I have tales of architecture and ghosts and bees and snow and a photo shoot and the cosmos and coincidences.
So, where to begin?
[meh, to be continued... the mead we had tonight made me SLEEPY!]
So, where to begin?
[meh, to be continued... the mead we had tonight made me SLEEPY!]
Thursday, February 10, 2011
How will we change the world?
I attract coincidences, as I've recently mentioned. Something that comes out of a lot of my conversations is this admission that I, and also whoever I'm conversing with, has a sincere (albeit vaguely understood) desire to "change" or "save" the world.
And I used to get really excited: I want to do this, and I keep meeting other people who want to do this!!!1!!OM!G!! We can work together and do it! Yay!
And then my friend Anna diffused my glee, seemingly forever, with one word. She and I had been talking about such things, and then I had a great conversation with Charissa. The next time I saw Anna, I was all giddy: "Charissa wants to save the world, too!" And then Anna asked:
"How?"
I was stunned. It was like being excited to reach the edge of the flat world, only to discover there's more world. What, you mean I have to keep going?
I don't think that was a life-changing moment, but it did define certain distinctions in my conversations. I thought the answer was so obvious, until I actually had to come up with an answer. Now the coincidences I experience involve attracting answers to that question: How will we change the world?
Now, there are lots of ways we CAN change the world. Changing the world is, in fact, incredibly easy. But I don't want to change the world just for the sake of change. I want to change it because the world I live in is not, in my opinion, the best world for me to live in.
I still don't have an answer for how to change the world, but I have a far better idea than I did three years ago, or even three months ago.
Here are four people who have had a huge impact on me during this period:
Douglas Rushkoff, on how we can change the world of economics:
Ken Robinson, on how we can change the world of education:
David Platt, on how we can change Christianity (and I believe we can take this to any religion):
Daniel Quinn, on how to challenge our origins:
And I used to get really excited: I want to do this, and I keep meeting other people who want to do this!!!1!!OM!G!! We can work together and do it! Yay!
And then my friend Anna diffused my glee, seemingly forever, with one word. She and I had been talking about such things, and then I had a great conversation with Charissa. The next time I saw Anna, I was all giddy: "Charissa wants to save the world, too!" And then Anna asked:
"How?"
I was stunned. It was like being excited to reach the edge of the flat world, only to discover there's more world. What, you mean I have to keep going?
I don't think that was a life-changing moment, but it did define certain distinctions in my conversations. I thought the answer was so obvious, until I actually had to come up with an answer. Now the coincidences I experience involve attracting answers to that question: How will we change the world?
Now, there are lots of ways we CAN change the world. Changing the world is, in fact, incredibly easy. But I don't want to change the world just for the sake of change. I want to change it because the world I live in is not, in my opinion, the best world for me to live in.
I still don't have an answer for how to change the world, but I have a far better idea than I did three years ago, or even three months ago.
Here are four people who have had a huge impact on me during this period:
Douglas Rushkoff, on how we can change the world of economics:
Ken Robinson, on how we can change the world of education:
David Platt, on how we can change Christianity (and I believe we can take this to any religion):
Daniel Quinn, on how to challenge our origins:
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Life... is good.
Looking at the time, I see that it is precisely two weeks since I got off the train in Tucson. This is hard to believe.
I came to town, spent the night at Age & Valerie's house. I got up the next morning, went to the laundromat, had lunch, went to the library (that's where the DQ blog was posted from), then Leslie and Charles drove me to Casa Grande. You've seen the blog from that weekend, too.
Then Kate & Matt drove me back to Tucson, and I have been here since then. Since ten. Days. Ago.
I have loved this past week and a half. Charles, Leslie and I have done some cool things. They hooked me up with the Rosetta Stone, so I'm learning French: "La fille et la femme mangent du riz." We have consumed much wine. We have sat in the hot tub, and the pool (because it's the freking desert, not Vermont where it's -32 degrees). We are learning about mehndi; its history, production, and application. We have talked about farming, and incorporating some communal living situation.
Their apartment is so chill, at the foothills of the Catalina mountains.
Other things: had brunch with Age, Valerie & Pam (who I'd not seen since she visited Seattle in 2008). There we talked about the political and motivational side of the potential collective. Who are our pioneers, Age asked. Is it even possible, Val asked. I talked to Bob, who pronounced that we could take the farmland and turn it into "Daniel Quinn's faggy little trapeze school." He and I argued about education for a while. I volunteered for an afternoon at Native Seeds SEARCH, and therefore got to spend some time with my great friend Dawna. All in all, I like where things are going, what conversations are happening.
On the downside, the money's going. Not quickly, thanks to Leslie and Charles's generosity, but finding work would offset whatever spending I am doing, not to mention leaving town will require some capital, when that time comes. Especially if Valerie is right, and Costa Rica is my next destination......
I came to town, spent the night at Age & Valerie's house. I got up the next morning, went to the laundromat, had lunch, went to the library (that's where the DQ blog was posted from), then Leslie and Charles drove me to Casa Grande. You've seen the blog from that weekend, too.
Then Kate & Matt drove me back to Tucson, and I have been here since then. Since ten. Days. Ago.
I have loved this past week and a half. Charles, Leslie and I have done some cool things. They hooked me up with the Rosetta Stone, so I'm learning French: "La fille et la femme mangent du riz." We have consumed much wine. We have sat in the hot tub, and the pool (because it's the freking desert, not Vermont where it's -32 degrees). We are learning about mehndi; its history, production, and application. We have talked about farming, and incorporating some communal living situation.
Their apartment is so chill, at the foothills of the Catalina mountains.
Other things: had brunch with Age, Valerie & Pam (who I'd not seen since she visited Seattle in 2008). There we talked about the political and motivational side of the potential collective. Who are our pioneers, Age asked. Is it even possible, Val asked. I talked to Bob, who pronounced that we could take the farmland and turn it into "Daniel Quinn's faggy little trapeze school." He and I argued about education for a while. I volunteered for an afternoon at Native Seeds SEARCH, and therefore got to spend some time with my great friend Dawna. All in all, I like where things are going, what conversations are happening.
On the downside, the money's going. Not quickly, thanks to Leslie and Charles's generosity, but finding work would offset whatever spending I am doing, not to mention leaving town will require some capital, when that time comes. Especially if Valerie is right, and Costa Rica is my next destination......
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
a wedding, a beating, and more
Nathaniel's wedding was great. I don't know if I could count on two hands the number of friends' weddings I have missed, so I'm very happy when I manage to attend one. And this was a pretty crazy wedding. The bridal party consisted of over thirty people and, for the reception, they had all learned a dance choreographed by Carmen (the bride)'s niece. It was impressive. And of course, it's going to get loud and fun, when everyone celebrating the marriage is a Mexican, a Native American, or a New York Jew. Lots of great (I'm sorry, I meant GREAT) food, lots of drinking, lots of dancing.
Carmen was beautiful and happy, and Nate looked sharp as hell (and also happy). Their kids were adorable/gorgeous/handsome. John Bob was the photographer, so there should be some great evidence of this floating around soon.
For whatever reason, there were two sheriff's deputies there to keep us all in check. Uncle Eddie had brought along a nice amount of booze, and any time someone would go out to his van to pour a drink, Eddie would approach the deputies and make small talk. I'm sure they knew what we were doing out there, but at least he prevented them from coming over and giving any of us a hard time.
Good speeches were made, and good times were had, and I slipped in some spilled wine and busted the hell out of my chin. Katie gave me some of her mom's pain relievers, and they ended my night real quick. (Nathaniel, I learned, saved me from Desmond drawing on my passed-out face.)
I woke up the next day and could hardly move. I faded in and out of sleep (which is weird; I usually cannot sleep after I've opened my eyes) and had no strength in my arms or legs. Whatever Sarah had that Katie gave me, it was good. Kate and John and I went to Arizona Mills, leaving Kate's boyfriend, Matt, behind with Nathaniel and his friends. I understand they gave him quite an interrogation in our absence, but that was nothing compared to what he and I got when we came back. After the Jets lost (yes, horrible, I know), most of Nate's friends left, and before long it was just Nate, Kate, Matt, me, and Nate's neighbor Kerry hanging out on the patio.
Nathaniel is a correctional officer, Commander of the SORT team at the nearby prison, and Kerry is a Canadian sheriff, so we got to sit around and listen to them swap stories about controlling inmates.
And then they decided to show us how to control inmates. Matt got to play guinea pig to various holds and strikes. He got pinned, he got shoved, and when they gave him a break (a rest, that is), I got to take the hits. Most of what I took were hits to my neck and my right arm (you know, so I understand how they disarm somebody who's attacking them), but they got Matt back up and showed him even more useful things, like how they kick someone's legs out from beneath them, and how they follow that up with an elbow to the face, and how they shove someone's nose into their brain. And how you can disable someone just by pushing on two pressure points just below the jaw. And how it really hurts when you lift someone by those pressure points.
And then the night got weird.
Nathaniel and I had bought cigars the day before, as we were running last-minute bridal errands. So we brought them out. Kerry seemed to really enjoy watching me smoke that cigar, and whenever I wasn't smoking it (which was often, considering I was hardly comfortable under his unblinking stare), he would say to me, "Smoke." Wha... what? "Smoke." Why...? "Smoke."
In mid-conversation, he stood up and interrupted Nate by kissing him on the cheek. While K, N & I were talking, Kerry walked Matt around the corner, appearing to want to tell him something in confidence... but he just grabbed Matt and kissed him on the cheek. He rubbed my thigh. He moved to put out a cigarette on Matt's ankle, but when Matt declined, Kerry put it out on his own ankle. He made a kiss-face at me. He had talked about his wife throughout the night, but wasn't wearing a ring. He talked about his roommate and him, talking about how they might appear to others as "kinda queer."
I don't know how anyone might get that impression....
But all-in-all, it was a wonderful weekend. The wedding was beautiful, and I can see that Nathaniel and Carmen are going to be very happy, and their kids are going to grow up well, and be really good kids, really good people. And I had a great time with a family I haven't gotten to see for a couple of years.
Carmen was beautiful and happy, and Nate looked sharp as hell (and also happy). Their kids were adorable/gorgeous/handsome. John Bob was the photographer, so there should be some great evidence of this floating around soon.
For whatever reason, there were two sheriff's deputies there to keep us all in check. Uncle Eddie had brought along a nice amount of booze, and any time someone would go out to his van to pour a drink, Eddie would approach the deputies and make small talk. I'm sure they knew what we were doing out there, but at least he prevented them from coming over and giving any of us a hard time.
Good speeches were made, and good times were had, and I slipped in some spilled wine and busted the hell out of my chin. Katie gave me some of her mom's pain relievers, and they ended my night real quick. (Nathaniel, I learned, saved me from Desmond drawing on my passed-out face.)
I woke up the next day and could hardly move. I faded in and out of sleep (which is weird; I usually cannot sleep after I've opened my eyes) and had no strength in my arms or legs. Whatever Sarah had that Katie gave me, it was good. Kate and John and I went to Arizona Mills, leaving Kate's boyfriend, Matt, behind with Nathaniel and his friends. I understand they gave him quite an interrogation in our absence, but that was nothing compared to what he and I got when we came back. After the Jets lost (yes, horrible, I know), most of Nate's friends left, and before long it was just Nate, Kate, Matt, me, and Nate's neighbor Kerry hanging out on the patio.
Nathaniel is a correctional officer, Commander of the SORT team at the nearby prison, and Kerry is a Canadian sheriff, so we got to sit around and listen to them swap stories about controlling inmates.
And then they decided to show us how to control inmates. Matt got to play guinea pig to various holds and strikes. He got pinned, he got shoved, and when they gave him a break (a rest, that is), I got to take the hits. Most of what I took were hits to my neck and my right arm (you know, so I understand how they disarm somebody who's attacking them), but they got Matt back up and showed him even more useful things, like how they kick someone's legs out from beneath them, and how they follow that up with an elbow to the face, and how they shove someone's nose into their brain. And how you can disable someone just by pushing on two pressure points just below the jaw. And how it really hurts when you lift someone by those pressure points.
And then the night got weird.
Nathaniel and I had bought cigars the day before, as we were running last-minute bridal errands. So we brought them out. Kerry seemed to really enjoy watching me smoke that cigar, and whenever I wasn't smoking it (which was often, considering I was hardly comfortable under his unblinking stare), he would say to me, "Smoke." Wha... what? "Smoke." Why...? "Smoke."
In mid-conversation, he stood up and interrupted Nate by kissing him on the cheek. While K, N & I were talking, Kerry walked Matt around the corner, appearing to want to tell him something in confidence... but he just grabbed Matt and kissed him on the cheek. He rubbed my thigh. He moved to put out a cigarette on Matt's ankle, but when Matt declined, Kerry put it out on his own ankle. He made a kiss-face at me. He had talked about his wife throughout the night, but wasn't wearing a ring. He talked about his roommate and him, talking about how they might appear to others as "kinda queer."
I don't know how anyone might get that impression....
But all-in-all, it was a wonderful weekend. The wedding was beautiful, and I can see that Nathaniel and Carmen are going to be very happy, and their kids are going to grow up well, and be really good kids, really good people. And I had a great time with a family I haven't gotten to see for a couple of years.
Friday, January 21, 2011
DANIEL QUINN (finally)
I had a realization today about why I have a hard time keeping up with this (well, any) blog. I always try to tell a story. I want there to be an arc, and by the end I want the protagonist (i.e. me) to have learned something by the end.
Like with the Daniel Quinn post. It blossomed into this outline about inspiration, motivation, and validation.
Really, all I should have to say is, "I had the honor of treating Daniel Quinn and his wife to lunch today. It was really cool to sit around and casually visit with someone who has, through his writings, had such an impact on my life. I was, of course, ridiculously nervous, but felt better about ordering a glass of wine to calm my nerves after he ordered Scotch, and she ordered wine.
"Unfortunately, I have great difficulty starting a conversation. I got the impression that he does, too, because once Rennie proved to perfectly capable of it, he and I both took a back seat to her. (In fact, she pointed out that she should stop talking, as she had only eaten half her meal by the time we were finished.)
"We mostly chatted like friends, talking about places we'd been, and what we had been doing. Occasionally we would go into broader subjects (education, people in general), but I'm afraid to say I would shy away from going to far, as I was intimidated by the situation.
"We did talk about the Discovery Channel thing, and how strange it was that someone could resort to violence over what Quinn had said in any of his books.
"Rennie also brought up the Farm in Tennessee, having heard of it from Daniel's daughter. We also talked about the idea of 'The Project' that Scott & I talk about. The Quinns, who live in the center of Houston, agreed that they could never have done something like that.
"Shortly after we finished our meal, we parted ways. Daniel asked that I keep them updated on our progress. How cool is that?"
Look. I did it. How damn simple.
Despite the simplicity of the casual conversation, however, I learned a ton, and continue to learn, from the experience. I won't go into how right now, since this post would end up as just another draft.
Like with the Daniel Quinn post. It blossomed into this outline about inspiration, motivation, and validation.
Really, all I should have to say is, "I had the honor of treating Daniel Quinn and his wife to lunch today. It was really cool to sit around and casually visit with someone who has, through his writings, had such an impact on my life. I was, of course, ridiculously nervous, but felt better about ordering a glass of wine to calm my nerves after he ordered Scotch, and she ordered wine.
"Unfortunately, I have great difficulty starting a conversation. I got the impression that he does, too, because once Rennie proved to perfectly capable of it, he and I both took a back seat to her. (In fact, she pointed out that she should stop talking, as she had only eaten half her meal by the time we were finished.)
"We mostly chatted like friends, talking about places we'd been, and what we had been doing. Occasionally we would go into broader subjects (education, people in general), but I'm afraid to say I would shy away from going to far, as I was intimidated by the situation.
"We did talk about the Discovery Channel thing, and how strange it was that someone could resort to violence over what Quinn had said in any of his books.
"Rennie also brought up the Farm in Tennessee, having heard of it from Daniel's daughter. We also talked about the idea of 'The Project' that Scott & I talk about. The Quinns, who live in the center of Houston, agreed that they could never have done something like that.
"Shortly after we finished our meal, we parted ways. Daniel asked that I keep them updated on our progress. How cool is that?"
Look. I did it. How damn simple.
Despite the simplicity of the casual conversation, however, I learned a ton, and continue to learn, from the experience. I won't go into how right now, since this post would end up as just another draft.
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