what?!

i # beat Hello

that was hardly a confession I wished to make but I was just goofing around with the writing pad feature of Windows, just drawing lines and stuff and all my lines just disappeared. For about two seconds I wondered where my lines went and after that I didn't care and looked back at my Word document and there it said what you see above minus the hello which I wrote to confirm my suspicions.

could be crazy

I think it's a carry over from the olden days when I frequently had my hands in some computer's chassis. That's the best I can recon for why I'll touch most every bit of metal I'll pass while my feet are touching carpet. Cabinets, light switch plates, doors and their jams, exposed metal corners, all get a gentle stroke of an index finger as I walk by.

Or maybe, I'm just crazy.

she and me or this post has no proper ending

I thumb through the pages of my past where it mingles with hers, every once in awhile, when I think I should be moving on. There are not many constants for either of us but then the time is quite close to a quarter century. How long are things supposed to last in a throwaway society?

There are a couple faces that are the same but even those are just repeat visitors. It comes down to family and her and me and even some family members have moved on.

Sometimes, I have no faith in what you are doing but I still have faith in you

I do try occasionally, sometimes, once-in-awhile.

I knew there wasn't much help I could offer but I followed him back to look for his hat anyway, I felt he needed the support. There was really no place for a hat to hide but we moved chairs around and bent over to look under the solid wood tables.

monumental, indeed

"What are you doing? Having to prove work?"

"No. I don't have to prove work. I need to count signs."

"For who?"

"Well, the boss asked and I kind of want to know for myself."

"What for?"

"While I kind of think it was a monumental thing, putting signs up in a whole neighborhood."

"Well, you're the only one that cares."

Listen, if folks want to pay me my regular salary for counting. I'm going to gladly count.

The most I could muster was to lie

I looked into her office, she was sitting alone, she was quiet. I'll look in if no one is there and she's not on the phone just to say hi before I go upstairs.

She asked about family photos because she was having trouble locating them on the computers. I still had some that I scanned years in the past and told her that there were others on her second laptop.

I've never seen her look defeated before even if she was only just very tired. Her brown eyes seemed too watery for what was normal.

She needed a hero, is what my hunch was.


The most I could muster was to lie and let her know that I was holding my own.

...

The younger one will jump off of whatever she sees her solder sister jump off of only she doesn't do any of the planning that her sister has learned through experience. She'll jump a little farther, jump a little quicker, jump a little higher.

The older one knows the pain of learning so her jumps are a little more measured.

...

There wasn't much I could do. I didn't expect a thirteen year old to know street names and addresses so I drove her to a starting point that she knew. We got to her friend's house without too much wasted travel but our traveling wasn't done.

She asked to go to her hair dresser's so I drove a bit to a different starting point. I didn't say anything when I realized I traveled a couple miles just to get back to the neighborhood I had just left but she must have sensed we were close and she asked.

I told her that I would show her and drove the nine city blocks.


...




http://readymech.com

http://www.fwis.com/

http://www.artlebedev.com

Oh, nuts.

I've been buying the same brand of coffee to brew at home since ever I've been brewing coffee at home and home has changed three times since. Yesterday I noticed "New York's coffee since 1926" on the can. I can't recall seeing that phrase before and wondered if it was true. I also wondered if I was upsetting the folks that relish the rivalry between that city and my town. I wished I had a t-shirt.

Today I took it as a confirmation after I read Internal Alarm

I'll have to try it with vanilla soy milk.

I'm constantly tempering my charm ('cause it pretty damn powerful stuff)

"I like the 'black' thing you've got going on. You usually don't do that, do you?"

"No. Usually, I don't wear this hat. The other one brings out my blue eyes more."

"That's right. It's the eyes."

I think I wear black well. I think it helps takes some of the 'goofy' out of my goofy charm but wearing black all the time doesn't seem to fit who I think I am and I've been told more than once to wear more color.

My black Nike hat equals steely gray eyes. I still don't know what color my eyes truly are. I think they are more green than blue maybe they're hazel.

Jen came back from her break carrying four dozen cookies.

"Hey, what's the matter? My cookies weren't good enough for you?"

"No. We ate all your cookies."

"So, what kind did you get?"

"Those fudge brownie chocolate chip, that you brought earlier, regular chocolate chip for René, banana chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin chocolate chip."

"Those are Em's favorite." I said which caused her to turn around and call Emily over. I couldn't hear what they said over the music.

A friend was leaving for a different job; that was my excuse for being at the bar. A group of us were there and I was doing my best to keep my focus on the crowd from work but it seemed like everyone else was tapping me on the shoulder. At one point I turned back around and all my coworkers were gone. But I did have a bartender standing in front of me.

'Timmy. What now?"

"I don't know." I had a close to empty pint of Bud Light in front of me, I switched back after two Margarita's.

"Something fun. Not that," she said as she pointed with her chin at my beer.

"Something fun for you usually ends up being something bad for me."

We settled on the deal that would have both of us doing a shot of peach flavored vodka. She's particular; I'm not. She chilled the shots and brought me over a Diet Coke chaser.

"Jenny never gives you a chaser."

"You're right, she doesn't. Thank you."

I left after the shot. It wasn't a bad night, I spent time with friends, had a few drinks sent my way, found out that I guessed right with the fudge brownie chocolate chip cookies for Jen, learned that René likes the regular chocolate chip and that Emily is trying to give me better service than Jen currently does. I hope my liver can survive the competition.

Off the sofa, you bad bad apple.

It was true, I never call. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I never know what her ever changing schedule is. I don't know because I don't call.

She could be sleeping or in a meeting or standing next to a supervisor when she isn't supposed to be talking on the phone.

There are times I think it would be better for her if she just would forget about me but that would certainly snuff out whatever it is that glows in my heart.


If you could change your past for an uncertain future would you do it? There are things I would like to change but not at the risk of losing what I have now.

Would you trade knowledge of one thing for greater knowledge of another? I wouldn't unless someone's life was in danger but that's not the question. I would attempt to get off my ass and learn more, I would try to grab more knowledge; I wouldn't trade it. But sometimes I think my head can only hold so much.

I see my life as an apple cart. I know basically how many apples I can handle. There are some fruits at the bottom I would like to rearrange but I worry that the whole cart might get upset. The cart and I are at an accord but I would really like to be standing on a busier corner sometimes. But then there are all those pesky curbs to worry about.

Yeah, I don't dot my i's

your old tricks no longer work?

unknowable


that's just leftovers up there. you can write your own story.

...

I was sitting after eating a steak and cheese with peppers and onions wondering what to do with the forty eight minutes left of my lunch hour. I thought about reading the book I had with me but I really didn't want to get involved with anybody's life. I then thought about maybe sketching out a little scene because I'm trying to get better at sketching but I felt a little too shy ('cause people might see). So, then I thought about maybe pulling out my little reporter's notebook and writing a little something for my blog (I have a blog, you see). But I didn't feel like doing any of those things so I afforded myself the luxury of just kicking it and I chilled and people watched a little bit.

I was doing that last thing when I noticed an older guy (late fifties) walking through the middle of the market place with a much younger lady and then thought of something to write.

A foolish waster of time, am I.

I can't say much but...

first it wasn't a hoax

second it wasn't a 'package' with wires and pipes protruding from it

...

If anyone wants a free subscription to Roads & Bridges you can get one here.


...

"So what's the deal with those certificates?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's says 'member' and it used to say 'associate'."

"Did you read the letter that came with it?"

"No. I didn't."

"Well, the letter says something about how they have changed the status for some members. Maybe that's what you are talking about."

When I have questions about something that comes with reading material, I read the material. But maybe I'm different, strange, odd, a foolish waster of my time.

Second behind Tony ain't too bad

If my reckoning is correct, he's in his late seventies. I got to know him through one of my friends who recognized him as a former co-worker. Tony was grateful that he wasn't forgotten.

He's cut from a different stock, then the rest of us; he's an old gentleman. On our best days, we're merely polite. He served in the second of the World Wars.

He called to me on the street the other day and asked what I had paid for those cannolis. I am horrible with prices at times, but surprisingly I remembered that I paid eighteen bucks for a half dozen. I did the math out loud.

"That's a lotta money, Timmy," he said with a grandfatherly look and he somehow seemed to be looking down on me even though I'm at least a head taller than him.

He also thinks I shouldn't be patronizing my regular place anymore. He keeps telling me of better deals a block and a half away. He's equally unhappy with the staffing changes. Tony was the reason I was Danielle's second favorite.

Dude, please just shove it.

He was standing right at the entrance. I gave no indication of any hesitation as I quickly cut to the aisle that sold pens as I heard "What can I help you find?" My reply was "Nothing. I know where what I want is."

I think I might make it my goal just to be out right rude to him. Unfortunately, he's the jackass with the key to all the good stuff. Although, I've only ever needed his key services three times in about four years. Maybe, it would really really bother him if I were to be rude to him and then have him open up some cabinets for me.

I'm in there probably once every two weeks, he has to recognize me as a common occurrence. He must be trying to get into my head. I must defeat him. I must! I must.

Next time he speaks to me I'll just say "Bug off, you wanker."

Or maybe I'll always take him up on his offer to help me and ask for a bunch of stuff that I'll never buy.

I really wish I had that evil gene; the one that allows you to actually carry out all your evil schemes, especially the ones that are just, at the most, irritating.

"Yes. I need paste and blue file folders and round fluorescent orange stickers and I'd like to look at that digital camera on sale and I would like a sales flyer and some gummy bears and some packing tape and some catalog size tyvek envelopes and a six inch plastic ruler and the physically largest flash drive you have because as you know you can easily loose the little ones. Oh, and I need a cash register, and a map of Chicago, and a forty watt light bulb, and a box of twenty four crayons, and some malted milk balls. Oh, wait. I don't have any money and I left my wallet in my other pants. Sorry. But hey, I might come by tomorrow to pick this stuff up."

That's right I said bric-a-brac

I try, sometimes.

Mostly, I just do but that's only on occasion.

Writing and rewriting and standing on guard.

Sometimes, I don't.


This and that and bric-a-brac.


I'm a poet.

Yeah, I'm a poet.

Blogger is acting up

I can't read my very own site