I guess it's more of a worry that I can't do anything about it or that anything I could do, would be ineffectual.

I sometimes choose to do nothing, instead of failing which runs contrary to my work life. In work, I take all sorts of risks but the rewards of success are always greater than the tolls of defeat.

I was too busy to finish this post

I think about what I could be doing and compare that to what I am doing. The assessment is always the same: I could be doing more.

I could be doing more but I don't. I don't go out of my way. I do what's convenient. I tell myself that a person who can but doesn't is a lot worse that a person who just can't.

If I'm not too busy, I'll get too busy.

a little pussy

He was in the conference room; I thought he was alone but then I heard the husky whisper. I tried to make out the words or at least identify the voice but I couldn't and then there was a squeak and the whisper changed from some private secret to some dude using a magic marker.

...

I was stuck in that time at the end of the work day when it's too late to start something new but too early to head for the door so I cut a piece of paper into a square and started folding an origami cat.

I think I had agreed at one point in time to fold one for her. She likes cats and that's the reason I know how to fold an origami cat. I folded with precision; I was using vellum and any false fold would stand out as a bright white line on the field of pale gray that vellum appears.

I finished the tail as the last workday minute ticked and slid the paper cat into my shirt pocket. I started my usual route over brick, then granite, then brick again but then I stopped and turned around and got on with my real life.

sometimes I just won't read a blog

Sometimes I don't look.

It's not because I don't wish to see.

But because I might see and still not do anything.


She sent me an email, mainly just to check that she had the address right. I replied with a note and at the end I truly wrote "I miss you" which I then deleted before I sent it.

Honestly, I don't work there

Sure as shoot'n as soon as I rested my chin on my desk at my second job, because the weight of my world is too much for me, I hear someone coming up the stairs.


Sure as shoot'n I've misspelled idyll at some point in my life.


I only notice when she's on my side of the bar but I'm always surprised at how small she is.


Tourists came in like tourists do but these folks were older than the tourists that usually stroll in. They were mid-seventies, I guess.

"Are you some sort of manager?" the husband asked me. He was a seat down from me and he posed his question when the guy to my left went down the stairs to use the bathroom.

I looked around to see if the bartender had heard his question, she had. "Yeah, sort of but I'm a horrible drunk so I stay on this side of the bar."

"This guy likes having you around on this side, doesn't he?" the guy asked pointing to the empty seat.

"Yeah, because if I were on that side, I would have to cut him off."

And was she ever

French Toast isn't a regular item on the menu but the manager ordered it anyway and sat next to me.

"Can you see through this shirt?" D² asked. She had just purchased a new black top from a store two doors away. We both looked at her top. Because I like to be of service, I was doing my best to spot any hint of nipple. I didn't spot any but I did notice it was a bit sheer but off target.

"A little but not where it counts," I said. The manager just continued eating while he continued looking. She looked down to confirm my assessment and then pulled the top a little bit a way from her body and looked through from the inside which gave us both a healthy view of cleavage and even though the two of us weren't actually talking, we both seemed to get very quiet. So, then she pulled her top down a little bit as well.

"Relax boys, I am wearing a bra."



I think it was that new one from Victoria Secret's, the one with no visible lines.


...

So, we got our annual forms to sign: one for sexual harassment and one for work place violence. I have to sign and also have a witness sign.

"Hey you sexy bitch, witness these forms for me or I'll kick your ass."

• • •

I overheard him telling his tale of woe. He said that we did "Like thirty streets..." Thirty seems like a high estimate, my list is right by my side, so I count and finish with nineteen.

...

I was back to my normal routine so I was able to go to lunch in a place of my own choosing. I knew D² was working the day shift so I walked down to see her. I ordered the Caesar Salad with Blackened Chicken.

She set the large plate in front of me.

"Do you want any fresh ground pepper?" Pepper on a salad that already has blackened chicken might seem excessive but that didn't stop me.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to bother you."

"You're no bother," she said as she fetched the wooden pepper mill and started cranking, after a few turns she asked, "Do you want some more or a little less?"

"Yeah, I'd like a little less," I said with a smile.

"That really wasn't an option, Timmy."

"I know. I just wanted to hear what your reply was going to be."

"Yeah, that's it. I'm naive"

"I'm what you call..."

"Naive?" I said.

"Yeah, that's it. I'm naive."

He almost simultaneously thinks everyone is out to get him and that everyone can be trusted. Usually, he's thinking wrongly.

How comes?

I'll stand on the edge and watch him dig, often he doesn't know what he's digging and I've given up on warning him about digging holes.

"How comes you don't help me dig?"

"Because it's, at best, an even deeper hole or, at worst, a grave."

false hope or real despair

I try to give people reason to hope.

And then I wonder: which is more harmful false hope or real despair?

"I like him. He seems pretty laid back but I don't know about that other guy."

"You do the best field sheets."

Two different members of the division I spent a week and a half working with said good things about me, usually our divisions don't speak well of each other. I think the animosity comes about because we work at a distance.

I spend a lot of time telling what could possibly be the other side of the story.

"Oh, I didn't know" I'll hear.

and that's why you shouldn't rush to judgment, I'll think.

"I don't know either. I'm just saying: it could be."

Marlborough's are $5.20 a pack

I see him all the time.

That's not true, but I do see him frequently. He's on the way from where I am during the day and where I go after work.

That's not true either he's on my way to the ATM that doesn't charge me a fee, that is near to where I go after work. He's also on the way if I walk up the back street from the bar to the subway.

I don't know if he's homeless or just a beggar. He usually has a sign. The one I liked best read "Need a hooker and a case of beer" he said the cops made him get rid of it. The sign he has now reads "I want a case of beer and a black eye from some brunette."

I fancy brunettes, too.

I don't know if he notices me or not. Sometimes I'll toss him a buck.

"Hey buddy, do you have a smoke?"

"Sorry. I don't smoke." I replied without missing a step but then I turned around. "But do you know what? I'll get you a pack. What do you smoke?"

He told me that he smokes Marlborough or Newports. I don't smoke but I thought the difference was like between a Sam Adams and a Bud Light. I walked half a block around the corner to the 7 Eleven and bought him Marlboroughs.

"Here you go." I said as I passed him down the smokes and a pack of matches.

"I thought you were kidding"

"Naw. Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. A lot of people like to mess with me."

I lost a little bit of faith in human nature after I heard him say that even though I know the Financial District crowd isn't really keen on beggars, even though he told me something I already knew. The guy isn't much of a bother. He makes his request and politely accepts any answer he's given. And when he says "Have a nice day," he doesn't say it snidely.

Just because he reminds folks of things that don't want to be reminded of doesn't mean he should get more of a hard time, or at least that is what I think.

I think it's sound that bothers me most.

The sound of her voice
The sound of him chewing
The sound of dead silence

So,

Lately, I'll be breezing around the internet and a blog post will come to mind so I'll crank up Word and once it's done doing what ever it does I type my traditional 'So' and then the lights go off.

So, that happened right now.


So, I had to change my user name over at librarything.com because my sister topped the list of books that I share with other users. Fortunately, she has about 2500 titles so on her list I was unnoticed at the bottom. We share 16 books so far, if I ever find where I have my boxes of books, that number will go up. I should steal some titles from her list but I'm not going to sort through that many titles.

maybe thirty three I could work with

So, mostly I don't give a crap as long as I have an excuse or reason that will hold up to questions.

So, if I'm running the show and we're on time and folks finish ahead of schedule for a particular day, folks get to leave early.

And, you know what? When the next day comes and we're not ahead of schedule but more right on schedule and you say you have to leave early – that's okay too because I can explain and justify being on schedule but on the third day when someone wants to leave three hours early which will fuck us over on the schedule – I have a problem with that.

I guess leaving an hour and a half early after a relatively easy day wasn't good enough. And I really don't give a crap but at least give me a chance to explain it away to the bosses because if it comes down to who is going to catch the shit, it ain't going to be me, when it was you that screwed the hooch.

You need something.

"Yeah, we did eighty installations."

"Yeah, we completed eleven rows."

"Yeah, we finished six areas."

You need some hard impressive number, whether it's impressive in reality or not. It has to sound good.

"Yeah, we finished that neighborhood."

"Yeah, seventy slips were completed."

"Yeah, all the blue requests are finished."


You need something, something completed. Twenty four doesn't cut it.

It made me wonder

So, I was…

I bought some books because I was afraid to read the books I have on hand.

the new books:

Catch – 22

The Known World

Ahab Wife

Germs, Guns and Steel



Did I mention that I don’t think the public schools makes their students read enough. There are a bunch of classics I haven't read. The four I remember reading are: "The Jungle", "The Great Gatsby", "Animal Farm", "Hamlet". There could be one or two others but that's it. I've been trying to brush up; mainly just because I want to be a reader.

I've started reading Catch – 22 and I smile at every time Heller writes something in a way that's contrary to those books on writing that I have read.

Could I get another clue?

So, the owner hands me one of those coffee cup things that you put on your coffee cup to protect your hands from the hot heat of the hot coffee.

"Here I just want you to…keep this on your desk or something. I'm thinking of getting these with one of our dummy websites on it and I need a design. So just keep it up on your desk or something."

"And see what falls out?"

"Yeah"

There is a lost post somewhere…

So, anyway my head hurts right behind my right ear, I've picked up an ache in the elbow and my temperature seems to be rising. I wonder if it’s because I ate lunch somewhere new. So, I'm sitting here calculating how much time I have left before things get bad. But then there is still the problem of tomorrow. I've started a project that will last for a few days and people are counting on me to tell them what goes where. I can't be ill.

The rising temperature is my biggest worry.

I was in the field all day which often isn't a bad thing but I still hadn't finished other things in the office and I due to be in the field for quite a few more days. I think I have things worked out though.

I've never called in sick.

So, my supervisor is back in the office fretting about things he doesn't need to fret about. I think he needs to blow off steam and even though I can drive the company car right home, I stop off to see him. We walked down the street and had two beers each, he had the pints, I had the ten ounce ones. He helped himself to the free buffet, I asked about how the bartender's day was going. She's one of the newer ones, she rarely sees my friends and I together so she doesn't get to overhear our conversations, so she sometimes has nothing to talk to us about.

The total bill came to eight bucks by our calculations and my supervisor said "I've got this one," and he had a ten in his hand. I threw up a five on top of his ten.

"I'm not leaving that much of a tip," he stated as he tossed my five back at me. "She doesn't talk to you," was his justification.

I looked at what I had in my pocket: two twenty's, a five, and two one's. I wished I had three ones and then wished we were on separate tabs. I tossed the two on top of his ten.

"That's too much."

I thought about explaining that in situations such as this you cannot leave a tip that is based on percentages, that five dollars isn't too much especially when one of us had visited the free buffet and more so when most places serving beer in the area are charging a lot more than a buck fifty for a draft. Instead of explaining, I tossed my two bucks in front of him. He took them.

Cheap prick. I'll buy my own beers next time, and I think you're going to be on your own.

The bartender said her day was dreadfully slow, by the way.

Sometimes working for the government you end up doing things just to make folks quiet down, sometimes you're told to put the guideline book aside.

He works for city government and knows this.

"They were yelling at me during the meeting. She was busting my balls."

"Not for nothing but what she was asking was the same thing the city did on Elm Street. You have to look at from her point of view. I know it's easier to justify what happened out on Elm Street but it's still all bullshit. She sees what others are getting and she wants the same; you can't fault her for that."

If you disagree with him, even in a whisper of a voice, when he's retelling the story, he'll say you were yelling. He'll say people are out to get him when really they are just looking out for themselves.


...

Sometimes

...

I truly seem to just like to type.

...

I remember when a 10MB hardrive was the bomb. I remember when two 5 1/4" disk drives were awesome. I remembered as I looked down on my cheap little thumb drive that can hold 128MB of info; it cost me ten bucks. Punch cards were before my time.

...

She asked my age, I had her guess and she was off four years in the negative.

"You don't look forty."

"I don't feel forty," but then I didn't feel twenty or thirty either.

I think my goofball ways keep me young.

...


She sent me a message via myspace along with a friend invite. I've sent her two messages before: one to let her know I found her site and another to wish her luck after she quit.

Trying to think up a reply, I couldn't remember a time within the last three to four years when I hadn't had the chance to see her for a length of time greater than two weeks.

I told her that I took for granted the attention she gave me. I am usually well attended to, regardless of the bartender but I've been avoiding a rapport with the new bartenders, so the new ones don't give me the quality attention that the seasoned ones do. And, I miss that attention.

I could turn on the charm and win the others over but then I would feel a commitment to maintain the relationship, currently I prefer the distance.

He was told not to trust the boss and he told this information to me.

"How is that some sort of revelation to you?" I asked and he replied with a look of bewilderment. "Who up there can you trust? Anyone up there will throw you under the bus once you have outlived your worth to them. I wonder how this can be news to you."

I then asked him about the fate of a few different former co-workers all of whom busted their asses for the department and were all shown the door. I got no reply so I continued.

"That's why, if you bust your ass, bust it for yourself. Bust it for Mrs. Smith who calls and you can help her out but don't bust it for the bosses. The bosses do not care. You have to care about yourself. Do a good job because you want to do a good job, don't try to do a good job for the bosses because it will get you nothing. How is any of this a surprise to you?"

you can't throw a tiny baby into the air

When my new neice was a week old, one week ago, her mother brought her by the house. I was kind of busy so I didn't spend too much time with her. They were around to see my mom anyway.

I don't have anything against week old infants but I don't go out of my way to fuss about with them. I like babies better when they can handle the weight of their heads.

With tiny babies there isn't much you can do with them.

Hold them
Rock them
Cradle them
Talk to them
Change them
Feed them
Try to get them to grab your finger...

Love them

I do miss you folks when you're not around every day or more accurately every post. When I noticed my attitude had changed a bit when the number of visits was down, I had to ask myself why I write. I remembered when there were no comments option and no sitemeter code. I wrote to write and now somewhere along the way, I feared writing to be read had crept in. Maybe, it was something simple and innocent like my desire to make folks happy which had caused the change, after all now I knew I had readers and readers like to read.

The last book I read on writing almost off handedly mentioned that writers want their works to be not only read but re-read; when I read that I thought that's another reason why I don't feel like a writer because so far I either was writing just for the sake of writing or I was writing because I was knew I was being read, and it may be splitting hairs but those are both different than writing to be read.

I'm not certain my motivation to write has ever been to be read, at least not read by my contemporaries, even though I think it's really swell when they do.

When working construction I'll sometimes write dimensions and notes on pieces of wood or whatnot and then affix the wood or whatnot message side down, so if it's ever removed my handwritten words, symbols and numbers might be seen.

When I ever come across other people's markings that are left much like I leave my own, they cause me to wonder about the author. I think I write because I want the mere chance to be read, I want to be some new found mystery to some unknown reader in the future and it doesn't have to be grand and it can be completely secret.

In a book I read about the Lewis and Clark expedition, the author retraced the steps of the famed explorers and the author stated that on some obscure ledge off the traveled trail, where most likely the explorers waited out a storm, someone carved '1804' on the backside of a large rock. It was said that the now faint weather worn depressions could still be seen in the present day. I think that's cool.


...

Lost in my own world like I am every day on the way to work, I heard someone call out.

"So, you're going to just walk by me." I was passing by the second car of the trolley. I had been meaning to call her. I had been missing her but I have a hard time justifying my presence in her life, so sometimes I don't contact her for awhile. But hearing her voice brought joy greater than any guilt I felt from not calling her.

I looked up at her as she looked out the driver's window. I was beaming as I explained that I didn't know she was working the morning shift.

"Someone has a birthday coming up."

I wasn't at my best for smartass replies or any other types of replies so all I could muster was a soft "Yeah, I know."

"I was thinking Paris."

I still couldn't quite get my mind to work. I wanted to tell her that I was missing her, that I wanted to call and some other things too but I couldn't find the words and the delay was getting too long so I said "Paris, huh?"

"Yup"

"I'll keep it open," I said as she was shutting her window as the trolley edged forward.

I really don't care much for traveling to Paris. I seem to have had my fill the four or five hours I had spent there a few years ago. It was a spur of the moment type thing when we were in London, on our last full day we decided to take the Eurostar to the Capital of France.

We traveled first class which came with lunch on the way and dinner on the way back. Towards the end of dinner, I noticed that they would clear away what dinnerware they could and that there was more than one steward doing such, so I pocketed the little custom glasses that the red wine was being served in.

I wondered if they counted those things. I assured myself that the train line factored petty theft spontaneous souvenirs into the price of each ticket.

Continuing on my way to work, I thought about how much I would like to spend some time with her and at this point, it doesn't matter much where, I'll even go to Paris if I have to.

...

"He's my best customer, ever," is how D² finished introducing me to the new waitress.

"Best of all time?" I asked after I said hello and shook Caroline's hand.

She then took a serious tone as she asked "What do you think I'm lying?" Much like me she'll stare you right in the eye when she's challenging you.

"I think you might be exaggerating a little," I said as I dropped my gaze down and away over the bar towards the stainless steel dishwasher.

"Nope. You're the best of all time."

I just smiled and let her win that argument.

So...

I'll often start a conversation with a 'So' or a 'Hey'.

I pronoun that a by the so as a long a and the a by the hey as a short a.

The hey statements are things that are thought quickly. The so statements have a little more thought preceding them. They are both used as a type of warning that I'm about to speak.

my last name really isn't Green so please don't go bothering him

I answered the phone by simply saying the name of the place that gives me a paycheck. It's not the most professional way to answer a phone but I'm a busy guy and I don't need to waste valuable seconds with niceties. I answered by boss's phone in kind.

"Hi, My name's Phil Hamerstein and I was given your number..."

I let him talk partly because he wouldn't take a noticeable breath and mostly I was not a fan of his assuming ways, until I felt guilty.

"I'm Timothy Green," I interrupted. My revelation caused him to finally pause.

"Oh, I thought you were Richard Malone."

"This is his line, I was just picking up his phone. Hold on."

Who just assumes that the person answering a business phone is indeed the person they wished to talk to?


...

I truly like them all and even though I call one my favorite, they all know who my favorite really is but they seldom call me on it.

"Are you disappointed that D² isn't here?" the one I sometimes call my favorite said.

"J°, I love you all"

I was, actually, a little disappointed even though I knew D² most likely wasn't going to be there. She had run down her schedule for me six days prior and even though she had been working Friday days for the past four months, she had only mentioned evening shifts.

...

So, a friend from another department dropped by my desk and it so happens that today is the first day on the job for a boss that will be overseeing both of our departments. We started talking about the new boss and others joined our conversation.

"And I hear he's going to be walking around so I've been told to look busy" an assistant to my director said.

My friend had actually come down to talk business with a co-worker of mine and once he finished his business, he poked his head back into my cube and said "I'm going to go 'look' busy."

...

So, the intros were made.

"This here is Timothy Green. Any crazy initiatives I come up with I give them to Tim which drives him crazy and he may rolls his eyes at me but he always gets it done."

"So, any crazy ideas I get I know where to bring them."

"Yeah, I put the craziness on paper."

I had a post but it's on my thumb drive and that got left at the day job.

…

I was bought a large shot and waited until the buyer and I were both ready to shoot them.

"That's impressive," that bartender said after I placed my empty at the edge of the bar.

A few smart assed replies raced through my head but I just smile instead. She must see people who can drink better than me. I hope she was just being kind.

It looks likes they've lost some customers but it could just be the season.

…

Yeah, I was folding an origami cat. What of it?

…

In her interview she named some bars where she was a waitress while she was writing her book and then lamented that she didn't enjoy wearing skimpy clothes and serving drunk guys.

During her brief stint at my favorite watering hole, I wasn't too certain she could read.

I would worry more about my drinking if Patron Silver wasn't so smooth and tasty

I really didn't want to stop working because I knew if I stopped there was a very good chance I wouldn't start again but I needed a sheet of three quarter inch plywood and that sort of thing just doesn't pop up out of the blue. So, I made the decision to use three quarter inch wafer board instead which I was pretty certain I had in the house somewhere and looking for the wafer board I found a full sheet of 3/4 inch ply wood, and a full sheet of 5/8 inch and a full sheet of 1/2 inch.

I actually found a couple more things that I would have made a trip to Home Depot for; I really should take a walk around the house more.

I ran out of wasp killer though and I knew that I was really out, there were no more cans of it around the house even though I usually have two on hand. There was this one large wasp that worried me. It never really made a move to bother me even though I was all up in its business but I really needed to fix the stairs because the building department doesn't like it much when your second means of egress has one end just floating in mid air and I didn't really want to risk getting stung in the face, so I bought two more cans and let its nest have all of one.

I actually felt remorse about it and reassuring myself that it was just an insect brought me no comfort. I've seen the large wasps before, they lived in a gap in the railing of the stairs for years. No one but me ever uses the stairs, so I didn't care. I only use those stairs when I'm on my way to fix the roof and even though I would pass right by their home, they wouldn't pay me any mind. But I got scared. I was scared that using a circular saw while standing on a ladder while cutting a notch in one of the supports for the stairs so I could make a lap joint would agitate them to the point of attach so I took a preemptive strike which I still regret. (It was just a bug)

Anyway, so my goal for my vacation, other than getting away from a lot of negative attitudes at work, was to fix a leak. The leak leaked into a bathroom and what will be a formal dining room of which I have removed a wall and two doors so I call it a hall, a dining hall, just because I like to be fancy, sometimes. So, now I can fix the Dining Hall and the Main Bathroom without fear of leaks which makes me somewhat glad.

You know what? This post sucks. And the post that I would write about how last Friday I went to the bar early to meet with friends and ended up staying for nine hours pounding Margarita's would most likely suck too.

Except maybe for this part:

I talk to folks that walk up to the bar if I think they need help and it so happened these two young woman looked like they needed help. And when one of them can back later to order a round of Jagermiester's I spoke to her again and she playfully poked me in my ribs, and after she walked away, the bartender, came over to me.

"She's attractive, huh?" she asked as she chin pointed to the very attractive blonde that was walking away.

"Yeah? I hadn't noticed," I replied with a shoulder shrug and as deadpan as I could.

"Ha!"

"Because there's too much sunshine shining this way."

"Timmy, that's why we love you."

And they showed their love by making all my drinks double and charging me for about a tenth of what I actually drank. I just doubled the bill they gave me which didn't come close to what I drank, which included but was not limited to six double Patron Margarita's, because sometimes you have to let folks be nice to you.

The truth is sometimes not pretty - not pretty though is often better than lame

I guess that's what I get for going on vacation.

I've been tagged by Ray who was tagged by TRUE who was tagged by Raymi.

I don't recall being tagged before so I think it's the first. I do recall seeing the eight truths thing before and remember thinking I'm glad no one has asked me. (not that I'm unglad now)

The Truth

Truth number one:

When my reputation precedes me, I'll try to disappoint people.

Truth number two:

I fall in love easily but I never call it love.

Truth number three:

I think I'm past my prime, although I could still out do anything that I have done.

Truth number four:

I'm a slow reader by choice. When I read too fast, other thoughts cloud my mind.

Truth number five:

I've never kissed a boy.

Truth number six:

I like seafood and hot sauce

Truth number seven:

Only half of truth number six is true.

Truth number eight:

I frequently use humor to avoid the truth.

Bonus truths because all my truths are lame

Bonus truth number one:

I have a myspace account which I mostly use just to talk to the bartenders I know.

Bonus truth number two:

I think you should feel cheated by these truths.

Bonus truth number three:

One of the most poignant things I have ever heard was at my uncle's funeral. My mom was talking to my cousin, her youngest nephew on my father's side and she said "Your father was a very good man. He was always there to help" and my cousin replied "Yeah, when he was around." And I do believe my uncle was physically around so I took it to mean he wasn't around emotionally and I quietly thought "I know what you mean."

My family is a long line of Christians, my father was a preacher, my uncle was a church elder.

It bothered me much when once my mom said "You're a nice guy sometimes," and then my sister added "Yeah, if you're not family."

Bonus truth number three:

I'm actually typing out these titles, there is no cutting and pasting going on.

Bonus truth number four:

I just went back and block quoted all the truths. I learned about block quotes from anti

Bonus truth number five:

I've never had any clue as to what I would like to do as a living. I've just done what came my way. I miss working construction but I could never do it for a living.

Bonus truth number six:

At first the main reason I agreed to do any work for the owner of my second job was because she was a hot piece of ass. She's still a hot piece of ass.

Bonus truth number six a:

I'm not really comfortable using the term 'hot piece of ass,' when it's someone I know personally.

Bonus truth number seven:

I picked green as my favorite color because too many people say blue. Blue is overdone.

Bonus truth number eight:

I worry about people falling in love with me and it being unreciprocated. I keep my walls up because I think I'm just a fad. The real me is not what you first see; there are only glimpses of the real me.

If anyone wants to know something different about me just ask (because I really don't find me too interesting), and if I don't post it here, then I'll probably send you an email.

I give today a seven

House project-wise, things went alright. I've got cuts and abrasions some of which I don't remember getting.

I wonder if anyone forgets that distinct stickiness of blood.

He's a family friend so it wasn't too much of a surprise to see my supervisor standing in my yard looking up at me.

"I guess you do work."

"Yeah, every once in awhile, I'll do something."

I then told him my project which involved rot and carpenter ants and a series of problems to fix the one problem I wanted fixed and then I told him that one of the bartenders quit.

Part of me wonders if I had gotten there earlier if I could have defused the situation, somewhat, but I know she's better off without that place.

The place has changed. Lately, it's hard to laugh within those walls and I think laughing just got harder.

People have been after my stool anyway they don't realize that it's not the seat, it's the sitter.

The regulars have been bugging me lately and I've got too many unknown people calling me by name. I think it's time to change my routine.

I'm writing this at the second job. I'm waiting for an email so I can pay a bill and be gone. I fixed the toilet mainly to perpetuate the legend. No one asked, I just did it. I'll even eat the twelve dollars it cost for parts.

There have been a lot of young guys around, moving stuff and fixing things. I started as a young guy moving stuff and fixing things.

I overheard one of them say "How does she expect me to do that?" I privately smiled because that question gets two answers: "You should have thought ahead," or "Tim used to do it." Sometimes, they get both answers.

I'm sure the new blood hates my past. I can't blame them, there are times I hate it too.

Occasionally, towards the end of some phone calls I think she’s going to slip and actually tell me that she loves me.

...

So, Labor Day – I labored. It turns out to be more work than I wanted to see but not really more than I expected. I only really worry when I run out of plans for fixing the domino effect of jobs that arise from just the one that I really want to work on.

I still have plans so there is still hope.

...

There are times I’m rumored to be a genius but it’s mostly, just, that I remember certain things.

I give today a four for me but a three over all.

I’ve been in a mood. Today was better so to help it along I went shopping. There are three places I go when I’m shopping therapeutically: the book store, Home Depot or Lowes, or clothes shopping. I went to Barnes and Noble and picked up: “Brutal Journey – The Epic Story of the First Crossing of North America,” “Heavy Word Lightly Thrown – The Reason Behind the Rhyme” and “The Joy of Origami.”

I used the last to teach myself how to make an origami frog that jumps when you press down on his back and then headed to where I knew someone who likes frogs would be.

She was covering someone else’s shift so I figured a familiar face might be welcomed. She wasn’t having a good day and actually got into a shouting match with the owner over the phone.

“I’ve either just quit or I’m fired,” she told me. I’ve heard similar before but this time I believed it.


“So I’ve learned to make little origami frogs for nothing then?” I asked as I showed her my handy work.

“Is this my going away present?”

I just shrugged my shoulders. It was the best I could offer on hand.

I had a post for this but I can't find it now.

but pax made me buy this

Yeah, I'm pretty much done for the day.

Three separate trips to the bar is the most I've ever made in on day and I've tied that record twice. Today will be the third time.

"Hey, look at this. I got three wheat back pennies in change all from one place."

"What's that?"

"What's a wheat back penny?"

"Yeah."

"It's just an old penny." nevermind

The guy's older than me. He should know what a wheat back penny is.

A weekend free from the second job. A week away from the day job.

Fragmented sentences, similar to my fragmented life.



"What do you like? I don't know what you like."

That's makes two of us. People lately have been trying to get into my brain. I don't mean to be secretive; it's just that there isn't too much there.

Her sister was having a bad day and her sister collects frogs so, I bought her sister a little glass frog and I thought it would be rude not to give her something so I bought her a little purple horse. The total cost for the both of them was smaller than the usual tip I leave so the gesture wasn't anything too grand.

I usually give things that will not be saved. I figure people do not need to clutter their homes. Usually, my gifts can be eaten or they wilt or they are some cheap little trinket that just proves that I was listening that time when you said your favorite color was blue.

"I don't know. I'm not even certain I can tell you what I don't like right now."

"But I want to get you something," she said examining her little equine figurine.

She then mentioned that I had gotten her something before which I had forgotten.

She'll sing songs to the tune that plays over barroom sound system, inserting my name whenever she can and even when she can't.

She says I should wear more blue.

I think I'm blue enough.


...

They tend to talk rather freely when I'm around so when one of them casually mentioned that her backache was because she was PMS'ing, one of them looked my way. I was watching the sport highlights or so I pretended.

and a lighter is a magic match

"Hey, how much does a router cost?"

"It depends on the router, maybe $120."

"That much?!"

"Well it depends. What are you going to be doing with it?"

"Well my kid says he needs to buy a router for his laptop."

"Oh, that type of router. I thought you meant a wood working router. Maybe thirty dollars."

"Do you know what's unbelievable? You can be sitting on the beach with your laptop on the internet. How do they do that?'

"Radio waves." I said as matter-of-factly as I could.

"That's unbelievable."

"Radio's been around awhile."

"But how they can get on the internet without any wires and stuff."

"What about the cellphone in your pocket? There are no wires there. It's the same technology."

....

I guess I'm depressed.

It's like I'm walking in a meadow. There is no wildlife and no sound. The lack of sound is like one finds at four in the morning, no cars, no birds, no crickets, no anything. The type of silence that makes you wonder if you're deaf or not. I can see the tree line all around me but no matter how far I walk I get no closer to the trees. There is no wind and there no humidity, the sunlight is hazy.

Just me walking, alone, going nowhere.

....


I set my phone on the bar. I usually keep my phone in my pocket unless I'm expecting a phone or unless I seem to be getting a lot of phone calls. My phone isn't new and it has no extra features. It's just a phone.

"What happened to your phone?"

"I was changing a tire for someone and my phone was bothering in my pocket so I took it out and set it on the sidewalk and when I went to stand up I put my hand right on it and scraped it over the sidewalk," I answered the waitress.

"Why don't you get a new one?"

"This one still works. It's just roughed up a bit."

Fifteen minutes later the other waitress asked about my phone. I was wondering why my phone was being noticed this day.

"He was changing a tire and leaned on it," the first waitress answered for me. I confirmed her story with a shoulder shrug.

I was slightly envious of her brevity.

....

I got my upgrade version of CorelDRAW. Corel probably isn't the best graphics suite but I still think it's the best deal out there. I started using Corel years ago mainly because it come with a boatload of fonts and clipart before there was a boatload of fonts and clipart collections out there.

I got my first version of CorelDraw after the owner of the real estate company got involved with some charity that provided day care and elder care. She devised a fundraising event which is still popular and successful today, although we are no longer involved in it. An ad book was part of the event and she collected money for ads past the publishers deadline which the publisher didn't like to much and basically told us that we would have to provide camera ready artwork. All we had was a laser printer and a copy of Wordperfect with three standard fonts which we could bold, underline and italic.

I was a little pissed off and said if we have to do camera ready art work I know there are packages out there that can do a lot better than this. By the next event we had a copy of CorelDRAW and we ended up doing about a third of the ads and nearly 100% of the next events ads.

And that my friends is how I got my start in desktop publishing and design.

and I'm still no artist.

...

So the guy goes, "How experienced are you? Because I have a question."

Now, I'm not a brain scientist or a rocket doctor or anything, I'm just some lowly municipal worker but I've been around awhile, not forever mind you but enough to know some things and if the guy wanted a brain scientist or something he wouldn't be calling my number.

I'm not much for bragging and I'm even less on people questioning my abilities so I say, "Why don't you give my the question and we'll go from there."

"Okays" is what I think I hear him say and this is my blog and I can make anyone seem stupid if I wish to and I's wishes too.

Anyway, he tells me his question and I's sez you's ain't allowed to do's that and he ax whys nots and I sez cause your mom's a ho but he doesn't like it when folks calls his mom a ho so he gets all up in my grille....


"Oh what's that boss? You would actually like me to do some work? I guess that's only fair. This posts sucks anyway. Yeah, I started out kinda serious and then it seemed to get saturated by ridiculousness."