A Little Christmas in your Heart..
I've been listening to Gov't Mule and I have to say that it had been awhile since I last listened. Can't put a finger on why I stopped, probably just to diversify a little bit, but for whatever reason I cracked open a little bit of “Banks of the Deep End” about three hours ago and this Mule train hasn't slowed a bit. I've also wanted to write quite a bit but, again, for whatever reason I haven't put fingers to keys or pencil to paper for quite some time, either [Ed's Note: “Quite some time” for writing is more than a few days. “Quite some time” between Mule sessions is more than a couple of weeks. In case you were wondering..]
I think it's because I've kind of been muddling over some heavy shit for the past week or so. I finally realized Christmas is here and I wouldn't be back in town, some other stuff that comes up from time to time, just random tangented thoughts that have been somewhat tangled and clustered and far more personal than I usually delve into on here. The 'Pad is about fun, right? Not lame ass bullshit. At least that's my take. The only lame shit I bring up is goofy shit that happened to me that I can spin in a self-deprecating manner. Mopey Matt doesn't make for good 'Pad stories. So it goes; I'm somewhat over it as there's nothing I can do about it now except for deciding I'll be sleeping in close proximity to 48 Smith Street a year from now.
It's just kind of silly to me that I've found a way to not make it home for Christmas after I'd never been away from home for more than ten days or so up until this year. And I never planned to skip Christmas ; just between coming home in July and October it would have been hard to justify another vacation six weeks after my last vacation. So, shucks and we'll fix it next year. I know the gang was at Samm-o's Thursday night and whoever wasn't there was sucking'em up at Gipper's after 9pm. Thinking of both of those places did put a little frown on my face. I like me some Gipper's and I like em some Fletcher basement beer pong. Together we might have had a perfect storm of lighthearted, festive debauchery. And from the sounds of things no one was overly beligerent at Samm-o's, so my presence was clearly missed. Last year I don't remember being at Samm-o's; I misplaced time for a couple of hours and those hours still haven't turned up. That was back when I was young and foolish – I'm older now...
Small sidenote here. I just want to give a quick random shout-out and name drop that I should have done right after I left town in October. A couple of nights before I was heading back out, it was Friday, I believe, I'm at Gipper's with my old boss Mr. Haggerty and a couple other folks and One of the owners, Tom Fournier, comes in for some dinner. We each wave hello, as he knows my pops from way back when, as his son played him some fooseball under the guidance of Skip. But just a couple of minutes later he waves me over, saying he's got to talk to me about something. Let's just say I'm not always the most sober person in the crowd when I partake in Rollback Thursdays so I'm fairly certain he's about to bust my balls for getting nutty. Nothing of the sort! Tom Fournier is an avid 'Pad reader. So, Tom. In the spirit of the holidays I wish you a very Merry Christmas and I thank you for your continued support of the 'Pad. In the past I've done my best to publicize my patronage of L/A's best sportsbar, in fact I spent some of my 21st birthday at Gipper's (I had drank close to a fifth of Jack prior to arriving so I ordered a beer, walked back outside and passed out in the parking lot...but the effort was there.........).
With that, I enjoy knowing who reads. So, say hello sometime. Let me know what you like of my material and what you think sucks. But if you think anything I post sucks you can piss up a rope. THIS IS FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT ONLY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Oh, and Gov't Mule kicks some serious tail. Don't forget that, either.
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But in all seriousness it still doesn't really feel like Christmas. It's not the lack of cold or snow or a tree or decorations or any of those physical sorts of things, it's just my close friends and family are all 5000 miles away, for the most part. I've met plenty of cool people, I live with cool people, but, shit, it's just not the same. I can't bust my mom's chops for listening to shitty Christmas albums “just so she can say she's listened to them all this year” or my pops for opening his presents while someone else is opening one. He's selfish and greedy, really. Or getting on Krysta's nerves, well, just because it's easy and I'm a jerk. Then knowing you don't have to talk to anyone Christmas night because we're all going to end up at Gipper's anyway by six or seven and then trek to the Goose for the best Christmas party in the world. So, I know it's early, but can someone please play some Temple of the Dog on the jukebox and then sit up on top of the booths while it's playing, smiling down on the couple hundred folks packed in tight to wait a half hour in between beers because no one can move. I can't think of a better way to spend Christmas.
To those who I love: I love and miss you. To those that I miss: I miss you. To everyone else: Merry Christmas and thanks for reading.
And to all: The airport code is OGG. Just let me know the day and time you land.
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I've been sick-ish for about a week and a half now. I say sick-ish because I'm definitely sick but I'm continually telling myself I'm not sick while trying to blame my symptoms on other contributing factors. For instance, all of this week has been super voggy. Vog is volcanic fog that I'm sure isn't exactly healthy for you. When the winds are right (or wrong, is more like it..) they blow over from the Big Island and it's super hazy and humid and it can get a little difficult to breathe. More or less, it sucks. So the vog has definitely been making me feel worse than just your standard cough due to a cold but at the same time I still don't feel that bad. My nose drips, I have a hacking cough and one of my ears has been plugged up for the last four days or so...but I'm not really sweating over it. I'll get better, right? I've been self-medicating with Wild Turkey, Steve-weiser, and plenty of salad. I can't for the life of me figure out why I'm not back to 100% yet. Wednesday night I smoked my first cigarette since July. I'm a bad person. Peer pressure is a motherfucker and those cancer sticks are just so darned tasty sometimes I need to have them. I'm not addicted...I'm not addicted..
No, I'm not addicted. They're just tasty treats sometimes.
Back to the cold. I know some of the reason I'm not super bummed about getting a cold is because it's still pretty gorgeous out every day. I'm not stuck in stale, office air all day. I sleep with my windows open. The poison has plenty of opportunity to drift away so I don't feel like I'm swimming in my own filth while I'm sick. I'd still prefer to not be snuffly, so hopefully two days off for the holiday will turn my mini-frown upside down..
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It appears I've developed a pretty serious personality as the guy who rides his bike all the time without a shirt on. I have a rear rack ad bungee cord so I bungee my book and a t-shirt onto the back of my bike wherever I go, then if I need to wear a shirt I'll have the shirt to throw on. Then, when I head back up north I usually just ride shirtless again, even at night because it's still warm enough for me to work up a sweat so why would I wear a shirt for fifteen minutes just to take it off when I get home because I'm sweaty? I'd be left with a dirty shirt EVERY day. Talk about waste?!?! So I ride shirtless. It's pretty badass. I'm pretty badass. No big deal, ladies and gents.
It just funny that multiple people have come up and used “I know I see you riding your bike all the time, but I don't exactly know you” as an opener. It's gotta be the 'stache. Fear the 'stache. Finally, it's starting to get a little ridiculous. I think it may finally be time to locate some wax. Wax would kick the flair factor up at least another notch (From “WOOO” to “WOOOOOO..” I know eventually I'm not going to be able to go much higher. One of the bartenders thinks my look now is the spitting image of John Bonham, drummer for Led Zep. So, I've got that going for me, too. You've still got to wonder what people think when they see goofy-ass me, though, right? If I wasn't me I don't know what I'd think if I saw me. Hell, I am me and sometimes I see myself in the mirror and crack up. That's because I'm in on the joke. It's a GOOD one.
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Thursday morning some landscapper folks came and trimmed up the palm trees right in front of our door. Now we've got a killer view of the ocean. Even more killer than we had before. One of the guys cutting down the palms was standing outside of our door and said: “Holy shit. Look at this fucking place. View of the ocean and Barbe's? That's fucking perfect.” If it's good enough for seedy landscapers then it's good enough for me. I'll leave you with this. I'm running out of steam. I don't work Friday so I wasn't concerned about staying up until all hours of the night, because if I get tired during a day off I can just take a nap. This brain dump was worth staying up until 2:30am for. And the Mule train is still going strong. In case I don't get anything else up before Saturday I hope you all have a holly, jolly Christmas. It's the best time of the year. Say hello to friends you know, and have a cup of cheer.
And in case you didn't hear:
O, by golly, have a holly, jolly Christmas this year, indeed. Cheers.
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