At work today, as I was wiping lipstick of coffee/tea mugs, it struck me that each woman made a different mark on the edge of the cup. Some were small and reserved, barely creating a line on the top edge. Perhaps they were sipping something hot. Perhaps they are reserved, delicate, or coy? Some were sharp crescents that marked both the inner and outer lip of the cup. Perhaps they were straining a strong-tasting liquid with their lips. Perhaps they are strong yet demure, forceful and cautious? Some were rounded marks at the top of the outside edge of the glass. Perhaps they were taking normal sized swallows, enjoying the liquid on their tongue and in their throat. Perhaps they are relaxed and level-headed, kick back to enjoy life with their feet up? Some were large rainbows an inch below the lip of the cup. Perhaps they were gulping something strong, enjoying the action more than the drink. Perhaps they are forceful and passionate, rushing into things, yet being strong enough to not get hurt easily? One was even a single upper-lip shaped curve near the lip of the cup. It could not have been made while taking a sip. Perhaps she was blowing gently on something hot to cool it off, resting her face against the cup to enjoy the warm steam carrying the heat away. Perhaps she was using the cup to hide her face, hide her smile. Her smile may be soft, gentle, her lips thin yet curvacious. Perhaps she likes to watch, be a part of the group yet not the focus, just enjoying the atmosphere, her own private jokes, and thoughts of her love back home. It would be a great story: a young romantic dishwasher-boy falls in love with a woman based on nothing but the lipstick marks she makes on her glass as she frequents the establishment he works for. He creates an elaborate picture of her in his mind (far more elaborate than the simple musings I created above), with the focal point her lips. Finally one day, he can take it no more, and he quietly enters the dining room to observe her, immediately picking her out of the crowd. She is not quite what he expected. At that moment, she looks up from her light meal and sees him. They stare at each other for a moment, and then he moves, one foot in front of the other, until he is standing before her. He asks if she would like another cup of coffee. She says yes, and hands him her cup. As he takes it from her, she grasps hold of his hand. "Will you...will you cut this pancake for me?" She asks. He is confused for a moment, but when she repeats the question, he takes her knife and fork and cuts the pancake. Her face lights up as he does so, and he realizes, in that moment, that perhaps she had been out here imagining the person making her food, and she fell in love with that person for his hands. The boy then pretends to be a cook, so that she will fall in love with him. They meet each day, when she has finished her meal, and he refills her coffee cup, and they sit in silence, just enjoying the other's company. Finally, after a week, his boss yells at him in front of her to get back to the dishes. The truth comes out, and he tearfully hurries back to the dishes. She doesn't come the next day, or the next, or the next, and he despairs of ever seeing her again. But then, on the fourth day, he gets a cup with her lip signature on it, and he hurries out to see her. His boss glares at him, but he doesn't care. There she is, sitting in her usual spot, but this time she is just sitting, not eating. He comes over and asks if she needs anything. She looks up at him, then looks down. "I imagined a wonderful cook to fall in love with. I...I fell in love with a dishwasher boy instead." The boy's face lights up. He takes her hand and says, "Come to the kitchen with me. Let me show you what I do." He leads her into the kitchen, where she stands and watches him do the dishes. She then tiptoes over to him, and she kisses him lightly on the cheek. "Perhaps, when you get off work tomorrow, you would like to come and see what I do?" He smiles, and then replies, "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." [smiles] bedtime, blog. See you tomorrow. and then the next day, airplane rides! yay! (I love flying, plus I get to see my wonderful girlfriend. It will be a good day). but first, sleep, then shopping for halloween and attempting to vote despite my misplaced registration.

What is it that draws us to journals? To write out our thoughts of the moment, or post what happened to us that day or week? To record for ourselves or for others milestones and minutae of our lives? I often think that perhaps I'm writing this for the few people who read it. My girlfriend, her mom on occasion, my mom on occasion, my brother on occasion (maybe), a few others who never comment. I realize from my own experience flipping through blogs randomly that someone else may read this, and so I intentionally leave out names of people or places here and there, just to frustrate stalkers a little. [laughs] Stalkers. No, there are hackers and stalkers out there. It's ironic the way the world works sometimes. My friend creates an ftp server, and leaves it vulnerable overnight, and some jerk on a power trip changes some code on the computer so he has to reinstall. On the other hand, lots of weirdos at the Texas Renaissance Festival walking around with non-projectile arsenals, and they went 30 years without anyone killing anyone else. (Yes, this year that record was broken. Someone was killed during a fight involving a bunch of people, stabbed almost 20 times I think it was, in the parking lot). I don't write this for hackers or stalkers. I don't even write this for my girlfriend. It would be easier to email her, wouldn't it? No, I write this for myself, and I'm sure everyone else out there is writing for themselves as well. But why? What am I getting out of this that makes it worth it? Honestly, it's just getting out something that's inside. Some people paint or sculpt. Some people perform plays, or debate topics that are, realistically, meaningless. Some people play sports or video games, and some people win at sports and video games. And some people write. All of these things are not important to anyone beyond ourselves and those few people with whom our lives are tied. Well, unless we get lucky and have a combination of talent, skill, and will to do something that becomes important to the masses. But this blog will never change anyone's life, at least not in any significant ways. It will never feed the starving, or end war, or change the way a culture thinks, or be significant in the market or the entertainment industry. No, it is just me talking. Sometimes not even that. And it's just something of mine that is coming out of me, that no longer is bottled up inside. And it's the truth. It's a truth, the truth that is inside me at this moment. Often I can't find it in me to put the truth on this blog, because I feel that it is mine and mine alone. I have had occasion to wish that no one else read this, because then I could say things that are not meant to be said to anyone else, but are meant to be said because they are true. I have a hard time writing stories, because they live inside my head, they change, they grow, they age, they sometimes die. But everything that is on paper, real paper or electronic paper, is now real, finished, unchanging. Some of them are houses without frames. Some of them are stunted trees. Some of them are beautiful flowers. Some of them are elaborate fences. Some of them are completely unidentifiable and unmetaphorable (yes I made that up). And all of them are mine. I always feel horrible, as a writer, exhonorating those fine specimens of writing that I've accomplished. I feel like the evil stepfather, hiding all the embarassing children in the attic. None of them will ever have a chance to meet the prince. At least, not unless I become famous and die early, so that my family collects everything I ever wrote and puts it in a book. [laughs] I've already started that. But it's not everything, oh no, not everything by far. I like The Sandman's way of putting it. "What's that you say? You haven't written any books? Of course you have! Here's one. It's called 'The Bestselling Romantic Spy Thriller I used to think about on the bus that would sell a billion copies and mean I'd never have to work again.'" Yes, yes, we all dream that everything we do makes money. It's not true. But still we have a desire to write. I just feel...like I'm not longer "too full" when I write. When I don't write, I fill up, I spill over, I lose those precious drops of creativity, of imagination, of dream. We have only so many years to live, and only so many hours of those years that are truly ours to think what we want to think, to dream what we want to dream. I can't spend all that time remembering my dreams and dreaming more at the same time. That is why I write. and it will never be enough. but I try anyway.

Toad the Wet Sprocket - I Will Not Take These Things For Granted

One part of me just wants to tell you everything
One part just needs the quiet
And if I'm lonely here, I'm lonely here
And on the telephone
You offer reassurance

I will not take these things for granted

How can I hold the part of me that only you can carry
It needs a strength I haven't found
But if it's frightening, I'll bear the cold
And on the telephone
You offer warm asylum

I'm listening
Flowers in the garden
Laughter in the hall
Children in the park
I will not take these things for granted
Anymore

To crawl inside the wire and feel something near me
To feel this accepting
That it is lonely here, but not alone
And on the telephone
You offer visions dancing

I'm listening
Music in the bedroom
Laughter in the hall
Dive into the ocean
Singing by the fire
Running through the forest
And standing in the wind
In rolling canyons

I will not take these things for granted

Two things:

Red sox 11, Cards 9. Game one, world series. Oh yah. it's the only thing I look forward to except seeing Grace. and unless there is no game 5, I will get Grace and world series at the same time. that will be difficult, since she doesn't care, and yet, while I'm there, spending time with her will be far far more important than spending time with sports on tv.

2: fountains of chocolate. Yes, you heard me. I worked at a wedding this evening where they had a fountain. A fountain of chocolate. Oh so beautiful. flowing milk chocolate that looks like a 4 tier cake. they're based here, and I don't know how far out they rent their equipment. But oh so beautiful. When I get married, I will have this, not a groom cake. Whatever the decor, whatever the theme, whatever the colors, I will have a fountain of chocolate. I can just see the embarassing pictures to result from such a "cake". hee hee! Ok, I should go to bed, before I say anything really stupid. (p.s. you can get milk chocolate, dark chocolate, or white chocolate. oh yah!) www.fountainsofchocolate.com bisnitch

In an effort to procrastinate sleep, I randomly flipped through blogs. I.e., the blogger menu at the top has a "next blog" button that sends you to another random blog. And yes, it is random; if you hit the "back" button, and then click it again, it won't be where you just were, so if you accidentaly lose an interesting one, or one that posts cool pictures, you have to find them in your history. I bookmarked one tonight because this person (sounds female?) rambles in an interesting manner, and might be worth reading more. So, dear blog, you may be having random encounters. ooh, sounds kinda kinky. Make friends, dear blog, but no cheating. I am the only one who can post on you. though others can leave comments, if they'd like. 6 days and 9 1/2 hours until I get to see her. and it's the only thing, besides the world series, for me to look forward to. man my life is pathetic. So, in terms of the world series, red sox vs cards. too bad astros, my team, didn't go, but that's ok, because now I can root for the sox and not feel bad about it. I mean really, it's gotta be pretty tough to root AGAINST the sox, having made the record-breaking comeback in the ALCS finals against the yankees. Besides, the astros and cards were fairly evenly matched, so it was a toss-up the whole series. the yankees were, to be fair, a better team than the red sox. I mean, they're usually one of the top teams, but even this year, they had a struggling pitching staff, but they had one of the best hitting lineups. Just, for the last four games, it didn't work. red sox pitching and defense just shut down what little the yankees squeezed out. it's gotta be pretty embarassing. but my boss was a yankees fan, so I gotta tiptoe around a little. Oh, and someone who I was bragging to about the first red sox victory in game four, a true NY fan, put up on his aim profile that all people jumping on the red sox bandwagon, the non-true fans, could suck d*** and die, but is it really jumping on the bandwagon to root for ANYONE beating the yankees? anyway, I guess it's about bedtime. laters, blogger, readers. (and I'm remembering to copy this, in case it messes up. which it won't, because I'm copying it).

this really touched me. too bad it's at the end of the cd, and it's skipping. I'd really like to have a working version of this.

The Wanderer - U2 and Johnny Cash

I went out walking
Through streets paved with gold
Lifted some stones
Saw the skin and bones
Of a city without a soul
I went out walking
Under an atomic sky
Where the ground won't turn
And the rain it burns
Like the tears when I said goodbye


Yeah I went with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering


I went drifting
Through the capitals of tin
Where men can't walk
Or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in
I stopped outside a church house
Where the citizens like to sit
They say they want the kingdom
But they don't want God in it


I went out riding
Down that old eight lane
I passed by a thousand signs
Looking for my own name


I went with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you


I went out there
In search of experience
To taste and to touch
And to feel as much
As a man can
Before he repents


I went out searching
Looking for one good man
A spirit who would not bend or break
Who would sit at his father's right hand
I went out walking
With a bible and a gun
The word of God lay heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one
Now Jesus, don't you wait up
Jesus, I'll be home soon
Yeah I went out for the papers
Told her I'd be back by noon


Yeah I left with nothing
But the thought you'd be there too
Looking for you


Yeah I left with nothing
Nothing but the thought of you
I went wandering

have I mentioned that I hate blogger, because I type for an hour, and then my entry doesn't go through, and it's all gone. I am restraining my desire to cuss profusely. I'm listening to cds drew let me borrow. Here's one I really liked. Finger Eleven is the band that sings "If I traded it all, if I gave it all away for one thing, wouldn't that be something..." Whatever.

Finger Eleven - Thousand Mile Wish

Forgive me if now i wear the face of worry.
This time alone could never cause any doubt
But I've been cold too long
Such a strange time to find myself coming down as the rain
With all these holes, my love,
To fill up from the middle.
This storm could stay all night now.

So can you stay until we close our eyes,
Till your dreams hold mine
Just stay until we know we tried one more time.

Cause laughing lovers can overcome their closest demons,
And they'll go on and they won't let go.
They saw something that they know
Has never come so close.

Can it stay here...stay here for us, for now?
Can it stay until we know ourselves?

I'm torn as I tell
You're the story that I know and fell from.
I'm so far into your story, I don't know why
We think we're in control,
When we lie between the lines,
We'll find a line to follow.
It's got to show real soon
Or we'll never reach this high

We climb a little further
Cause there's nothing we can't get around together,
Further gets colder until nothing was all that I saw around

So we stay until the ground
That we can't come down from splits us away.
Maybe stars know why we fall,
I just wish they were thinking out loud.
I could wish all night;
I could wish all night.

So I just turned 23 yesterday. I can't say I had a better birthday than my brother (described at http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=rc_ashe) but I still had a good time. My main celebration was renaissance festival last weekend, and this week I've been, well, not down and out, but just out. I went out with Charles to Midnight Rodeo on thursday night. I didn't plan on drinking, but they convinced me to take an upside down rasberry kamikaze...and didn't tell me how to take it. I tried swallowing halfway through...and volcanoed the second half of the shot onto my shirt. great. yah, upside down shots, fill your mouth, when they're done pouring, swallow. Anyway, I don't like the music there much anyway, so I had fun talking to Charles and coworker Brandy, who we met there. I'm beginning to realize that talking to strangers just doesn't work for me. The first person I tried talking to, because she looked bummed and I thought dancing might cheer her up, "doesn't like dancing or talking", and the second person I talked to was someone who very nearly fawned over me in a drunken way. I neatly avoided the conversation when she mentioned needing to find a ride home, since I had met her only a minute before. She was very talkative, and the bartender knew her, so she was a fair regular, so I didn't think it'd be a problem. [sighs] anyway, that night sucked, but I stayed the night at Charles' new apartment, played some Fable, slept, played a little more Fable, drove around with Eric and Charles and Malachy and Jake, then got home and went to bed early [laughs]. Last night I went out with Drew, met him at his house (took him his digeridoo and picture he bought at renfest and couldn't take home with him because he had ridden his bike), and went to a place called Westfield (by the railroad tracks). It was low key, but had an upbeat band called The Fab Five, a cover band with beatles haircuts. They were really really good. Anyway, the bartender was cute, Drew hit on her a little bit, she was really good at making drinks and really friendly, very nice place. It cheered me up immensely. Anyway, I gotta get ready to go to something for Ian's confirmation. top of the 8th inning, astros 6 cardinals 5. I'm praying.

Gigi D'Agostino's "I'll Fly With You (Dance)" has succeeded in cheering me up, finishing a good effort with the five tracks I have from Ghost in the Machine. I'm tired. Listen to techno.

Alcohol is overrated. I mean, why would you want to forget all the fun you have? My brother, in his blog-equivalent, talks about how much of a great weekend he had...and caps it off by saying he got totally plastered. Comedy...everything is funnier when you're drunk, but so is a dog pissing on itself. Then we tell all our friends so and so is totally funny, because they were when we were drunk. Parties...we lose our sense of balance when we drink, so dancing is more fun, and walking and driving are less fun, not a pretty trade off. Plus, when we drink, we no longer know how to talk quietly. Or we don't care. Which can get very annoying. Playing Games...I don't mean drinking games, but real games. Pool can be much more fun with a little alcohol. After all, you stop caring so much that you missed that crucial shot, or that you couldn't have made that crucial shot ever anyway. But how about archery, or axe throwing? Yah, that could get ugly real quick. All this doesn't even mention the death of brain cells. Yes, I didn't mind one bit not drinking at the renaissance festival this weekend. Highlights: the bratwurst was amazing, Arsene the comedian is amazing (he was one of the trainers for Cirque du Soleil, and during his show, he was hilarious, despite not saying a single word), I am badass at throwing axes (I hit the target with my first axe of the day, and later, I got three of my five axes to hit the target, and then I got my fifth battle axe to hit the target...and by hit the target, I mean I got it to hit the star and stick into the wood without falling off, so yah), Drew got the phone number of the girl working the paintball booth (speaking of which, alcohol makes you think it's a good idea to get phone numbers from girls, when you shouldn't be...for this (Drew's) situation, that was not the case...she'd be cool to hang out with, if she doesn't live too far away), fireworks are still too loud and bright and pollute the air and suck, I helped Ian's friend buy swords because he's not 18, but I was responsible and gave them to his dad, which is fine, because the two of them have a sword collection, and the Texas Renaissance Festival is lacking two very important lucrative industries: elf ears, and bows. No elf ears, anywhere, at all, and only one shop that sells crappy bows. I got sooo many compliments on my bow, that I wish I could track down the guy I bought it from and thank him again, but I don't think I'll be at too many SCA events in Ohio. Anyone making and selling hand-crafted bows could make a fortune down here. And, if I had the money, I now know exactly what I would buy for my period costume. cloak, jerkin, shirt, and arrows [laughs] (yes, I have a bow and no arrows). Whatever, enough blogging for tonight.

dammit, I just wrote a really good post, and my internet skipped right then and lost it. bastard! So, I spent 5 hours, since the pres debate, doing variations in microsoft paintbrush of a single pattern I created a while back, using only it and its inverse. I made so many I had to create two files, and I won't bother posting them here because the space is much too small and the intricacies would be lost on you. I can email them to you on request, if you like your inbox being filled with large bitmap files. I can even give you a walk-through of how I created each of them, if it's not obvious (well, maybe it's only obvious to me, and that's a pointless comment). But I'm sleeping, then working tomorrow, and getting up at the same time as God on sunday to meet him at the earliest mass of the day, so I can spend a long day at Ren Fest with little bro and one of my two best friends. my bro is bringing a friend and meeting a friend, so I hope they're not kill-joys. But yah, sleep comes first, and so unless you're joining me, which you're not, this is the time for me to say adieu.

the internet is being even funkier. it takes forever for pages to load. maybe I have a virus. I'm gonna do another scan. It's rained all day. that's nice. it turns the backyard into a mini-lake, which is pretty. I put a 6 foot stick in the garden for the morning glory to climb a few weeks back, and it seems to have been fairly successful. The roses aren't covered by creeping morning glory vines, anyway. [smiles] I also had an extra /div command in my template, which was causing one of my menus to not come up. I'm gonna say that's what the problem is, because I want to ignore away any other problems. I'll probably write a comic book. write, not draw. one of the stories in my head will work much better using pictures. Yes. I'm not very talkative today.

To save time listening to me, just read this link:

http://www.girlbomb.com/ways.html

"Nobody knows what they're doing, we're all just grappling around, blind as hamburger. Doing our damnedest not to die alone." heh! Great writer. check the rest of her site if you have the time.

well, this is a fun week. aside from work, church, grocery shopping, picking up my brother from school, and getting a haircut, (and getting the mail), (and yardwork), I haven't been out of the house in a week. I have allergies that make me sneeze every now and then, and then my nose runs for an hour (clear, not green, so I'm not actually sick), plus my eyes itch half the time and I have a sinus headache half the time, though those aren't necessarily the same halves of the time. In addition, I'm slightly depressed, so I don't really want to do anything anyway. In addition, the internet is on the fritz, so the last couple of days, I can't depend on aim to stay online all the time, nor can I depend on my web-browser to actually load anything. I mean, by on the fritz, I mean it cuts out for less than a minute, several times in an hour, one out of every three hours. [sighs] So the last time I tried creating a blog entry, it fritzed as I was writing, so I lost everything I had written. That's always fun. You know, since the blogger post page doesn't actually save what I write, since it's sending it to my site. blah blah blah. But I'm going to the renaissance festival this sunday. saturday night is my little brother's homecoming, and I have work, so we have to go to 7:30am mass sunday morning. Plus I'm gonna have to short him money at the festival because he's spending all he has right now on homecoming. Whatever. Anyway, I'm looking forward to that, though I have very little in the way of costume. I'll try and put something to gether, but I don't know what yet. whatever, back to self-deprecation.

You know what? I have a daily routine of links. I check Nine Chickweed Lane, because it is, after all, a daily comic strip. I then check 8-bit theater, which only comes out 3 days a week, but I'm always hopeful one of those days is the day that I'm checking. Even if I'm checking again only an hour after I checked and discovered a new one. I then proceed to go through the online journals: Grace's, Alaina's, Elisa's, Raph's, Leigh's, Kat's and Elisé's. the comics always tend to make my day, especially when it's one of those three special days priorly mentioned. but what's up people? Everyone goes for days or weeks without updating their journals. Heck, Kat has three entries this semester, 5 this year. And while Leigh tends to update fairly regularly, being my girlfriend's sister and being far far away from anyone else I know, my interest in her journal lies solely in the jokes that she tells every now and then. I can't say I update every day. At least I don't think I do. I also understand that not everyone spends as much time in front of their computer as I do, or half as much time in front of their computer as I do, but still! Ugh, I'm gonna go read a book. My comic books are still great, even the third time to read them, especially since I now have the Sandman companion to go with them. [grins] However, if anyone knows what happened to our Infinity Gauntlet series or Infinity War series, let me know. All we have is the Infinity Crusade left, and I know for a fact that we bought all three. And I want to read them...And the Infinty Crusade is the least interesting of the three. [pouts]

You know, when making enchiladas, it says to put in meat and cheese and enchilada sauce, but really, what are enchiladas without vegetables? I mean, inside, not on the side like cheap mexican restaurants? plus, you can make them interesting by combining regular sauce and green chile enchilada sauce. then put 3/4 of a can (or that amount) of this combination sauce, instead of 3/4 can of regular. and only a cup of cheese? who are they kidding! especially if you add things like a can of rotel tomatos and chopped onion. I mean, you have to keep the ratio the same, right? that's what cheese is for, making it cheesy. So yah, feel free to fudge it a little. it does make the spices I add a little different, but since I fudge it by just smelling things and thinking, "yah, this would go well!" It doesn't matter anyway. Now, if I could only get the tortillas to roll without breaking...stupid corn tortillas.

So, on a serious note, Neil Gaiman is godlike and everyone should read everything he's ever written. Or at least the Sandman series, American Gods, and Neverwhere. I'm reading the Sandman Companion right now, which has background about him, how his relationships with other writers and artists work, how he got into comic books in the first place, and interviews with him step by step through the 76-issue comic book legend that we now know and love as the 10 volume set of Sandman graphic novels.

Two things I have learned about comic books: 1)you need have no artistic talent at all to write one, because the process involves someone making a script, someone sketching it, someone inking it, and someone coloring it (with all the regular editorial and production staff). So a writer with vision and the ability to describe what he wants can create a comic book, then simply hand it over to artists to actually create for him. And 2) I need to read more stuff by Alan Moore (Swamp Thing was the reason Gaiman took back up his childhood dream of making comics, and Alan Moore's instruction and encouragement are what helped turn Gaiman's fantastic literary talent into a fantastic comic-book creating talent). Plus I need to read something called Maus, which I'd never heard of, except that supposedly it's one of the classics that helped American comics become serious. p.s. I'm not talking about anime at all, because American comics and Japanese comics have evolved quite differently. It has only been in the past decade that anime has, through children's cartoons, become a significant influence upon the artistic style of American comics. Wouldn't that be an awesome class to teach: The History of American Comics? I mean, I'm not sure what would be used as textbooks, since some of the classics are now far too expensive to be regular books. You'd almost have to make your own textbook. Hmm...maybe I shouldn't say that out loud, where someone might steal my idea... [laughs] Gaiman, before the series had even started, had the idea of having an annual serial killer's convention (conventions are, after all, a bunch of people coming together who have nothing in common except a single interest), but he had to leave it on hold for over a year before he could actually put it into a comic. But yes, books are good, everyone should read more. That includes you! Blogs don't actually count. Except Dave Barry's blog, because he's just that cool.

http://weblog.herald.com/column/davebarry/