i am back on central time zone. i am amidst a foggy baton rouge.

such have airports made for me, foggy and cramped. i have been hauling baggages around with one arm, because my right elbow is feeling absolutely broken, to the point where i can not put weight into my bicep, and it has now swollen to twice its size, big and red, and i do not know how it happened, even though it feels just like it was smashed into something very rigid, even though i have no memory of smashing it into something rigid.

maybe there is a splice of bone fragment swimming around inside the flesh of my elbow tip, and it is only enflaring the hurt. my elbow is tender and fevered and pulsing, so maybe that means it is getting better. better or worse.

i spent the last 3-4 days in my richmond places, and i think i even fit everyone in, even for a little bit. i drank plenty of beer and chai. there was some snow, plenty of lisa and matt, a little of nora and lindsay, other friends and acquaintances, a shockwave rider show, meals eaten out at restaurants, and kris and rebecca even visited for a day. i came out of it all feeling like shit, like i had drank alcohol in unwholesome quantities, and also wreaking of cigarette smokes.

it was just nice to be able to lay down on my couch amidst my walls and not feel like i must be on-call or out and about or important at all. i have been as important as i will ever be, maybe a long time ago, and now i look forward to being on extraneous and peripheral. maybe this is what i mean.

while in airports, i thought about some things that i should write down:

like, 1. nothing much is memorable without companions. maybe this is why i have walked a thousand miles of europe, gone up the arch of st. louis, hiked the littler grand canyon, done laps around memphis, etc. and it all leaves me with less and less of an impression. also, maybe adult brains are brains which are less full of younger hormones, which might help memorize illuminated experiences in more romantic lights, whether or not they were more meaningful than experiences are these days. but at any rate, the next time i go on a vacation, someone should go with me.

2. i do not metabolize like i used to, either. if i continue to eat things with tons of sugar, i should prepare an inventory of large-waisted jean pants.

3. i am so tired and need to go to bed as soon as possible.

Slowly, or I mean Quickly, I shall become one of those folks who has nothing better to put into their webbased logger than things which I have observed at the workplace.

Yesterday it was the urinal pose that causes me to cringe out loud.

It’s the one where the dude is peeing, has his right hand in the expected utility, but has his left arm up over his head, with his palm flat against the wall. And he is leaning into the porcelain like he is sheltering the homeless from the rain. Or something.

He is usually sighing, or blowing, or both, like he is out of breath. This, or else he is grunting. Or grunting, sighing, and blowing.

When I say ‘blowing’, I mean exhaling loudly.

But that clincher is the left hand, as high as he can get it and palm pressed, and fingers splayed.

I was going to draw it for you, but then I got lazy.

-

I had to pack all of my things that I brought with me, tonight. I put them all into a storage space, down the road.

I am getting onto an airplane tomorrow. I think. I am going home for three days, I think. And then I am going to Baton Rouge for a week. Baton Rouge is where I was the last time I bought a Thomas Pynchon book. It was at a Barnes & Noble near LSU, and there were lots of freaky nerds walking around, which surprised me because I did not figure a place like Baton Rouge to have very many freaky nerds.

I am usually lax to label someone a freaky nerd, because of glass houses or whatever, although I don’t consider myself to be a nerd at all, because I think I have mostly always been too stolid to be, but maybe I did look the part, once upon a time. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Stolid means uninvolved and mostly apathetic. Nerds cannot be apathetic, by definittion, because they are famous for caring a whole lot about things that do not make a fuck. Like having a heavy emotional involvement in something like, say, the Lord of the Rings or some bullshit.

But anyway, this dude was a freaky nerd, and chasing this girl all around the bookstore, and wasn’t reading (from vibes) that she wasn’t interested, and he was saying the absolute dumbest things in this weird effort to impress. Or this effort to impress weirdly.

But you know what? That’s all beside the point.

I still have not read the Thomas Pynchon book. And now that I think about it, maybe I only considered buying it, but did not.

The day after that was the time I cruised through the bayous and was amazed at the trailer trash, on their porches and enjoying their lives to the fullest. I like coon asses.

Coon asses are what they call dirty cajuns. It is more of a jabbing term than straight-up derogatory, because cajuns like being called coon asses when you are joking around, like saying “Hey I just ran over a possum on the way to work tonight have you eaten yet, coon ass?”

I bet that coon asses in general don’t even know who Thomas Pynchon is.

After my stint in Louisiana, I think that I have to think more about making Orlando a home, or at least a place where I will live in my shackles and eat my hard-earned porridge.

I am finding out that I do not know anything about mortgages, and I can’t really be bothered to find out, so maybe I should just keep on renting.

These things TBD.

Maybe people will visit me, someday.

i have been pondering. there is no use denying it.

my options have been laid out, and i have been pummeled with them, relentlessly.

option 1: pack your shit. move to orlando.
option 2: pack your shit. move to radnor.
option 3: quit.

i will not detail the reasons that i am choosing option 1, because i could fill pages that would form circles.

it is mostly because: 1- it is time for me to move somewhere. 2- it is a big raise and i am all about selling out. 3- i do not want to frame my life with hotel rooms anymore because it’s ruined me enough already. 4- it is an easy job. 5- i will have free time to do what i want. 6- i do not have to live in the atrocious suburbs, i can live in the city, which is actually a nice city. and i know this because i just checked it out tonight.

i don’t think that i should miss richmond or my friends there, because i will have free time, and i have made promises to myself to make visits. i will not have already made my last bicycling to the james, or i should be very disappointed.

i will miss my apartment, which has been my longest apartment ever, and it has poor insulation and thin walls and creaky floors. and it has mythical-sized trees outside, and legions of squirrels. and there is aged eucalyptus on the walls. and my bed is there, which is a comfortable bed, nestled between windows that soften the sun. and there is a lot of sun and breezes. and i hardly ever vacuumed and i was constantly picking up but it was still a mess. and i have had free cable television the entire time, even though i don’t watch it all that much.

the most “home” that i ever feel anymore is in that apartment.

you don’t realize that “home” is even a feeling until you are never in the same place for more than a week or two.

that “home” feeling is the reason we don’t sleep over at our friends’ places anymore, unless we absolutely have to. like if we’re too drunk and we pass out on their couch.

one of my friends was in orlando last weekend for a visit. his name is michael, and also melissa came with him. melissa is his wife and she goes by missy, so that’s what everyone calls her. they were down to see mike’s grandmother, who lives in st. cloud and has cancer and has not been well.

lately, everyone has cancer and is dying. there are those spans of time where everyone is invincible, and then those spans of time where everyone is dying. this is one of the latter. this is when we play “he has left us alone but shafts of light sometimes grace the corners of our rooms” and sit in the dark and feel very small and wait for the collapsing to start.

but on sunday, me and mike and missy went out to lunch, and walked around the free parts of disney, and then we played putt-putt golf on one of those extravagent courses that have themes, and this one had a congo/rainforest theme, and i lost the first game by fourteen strokes, but won the second game by five.

then mike and missy flew back to rhode island, because that is where they live.

i could continue with other things, like observations about fellow co-workers, but i don’t feel like it right now, because i am tired and i need to go to bed.

this has been an update on status, only. all content has been de-coloured.

I had to check and make sure that I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I think that I have nothing to be ashamed of, except for that ice cube I threw off of a balcony once and hit a woman in the forehead, and I’ll never know whether or not she had to get her forehead replaced.

Other than that, I think I’m alright.

A little weird and lame, maybe, but not shameful.

my white russians are cheating white russians. this is because i have no vodka. but i do have everything else. including moxie.

and frequency!

and unheralded fervor!

(if we make it we can all sit back and laugh! … the fate of all mankind, i fear, is in the hands of fools… [sic passim])

speaking of moxiousism, i am assuming that i have plenty of it surging through my place of work. i am safe in assuming, because i have been told so, although i did not get a big head about it because it is just work and ideally i am only there from eight until five and then i will try not to care anymore.

but i had an interview today, and i was not expecting to have an interview today. this is for another department within headquarters, and THEY ARE VERY INTERESTED IN GETTING ME ONBOARD.

the interviewers were two-fold, and they are very important names within the company. it was the equivalent of a congress intern being asked to an interview by condie rice. or something.

i tried to be as straightforward and honest about not liking their open positions as i possibly could, but it seemed to me that these were two very important COMPANY MEN who had TAKEN TIME OUT OF THEIR SCHEDULES to sit down with me and pitch me AN OPPORTUNITY.

i am sorry, i am not screaming. i am trying to annunciate, but maybe i should stick to alliteration.

so i said “who knows, maybe i will be interested someday” or something like that. and they said that i will have more exposure to the important people who are the GUARDIANS OF THE CORPORATE LADDER, and oh how i might climb!

also, pat (who is pretty much my manager while i am here) said that he is preparing a full-time offer for me, for the job that i am doing now, but i am not scared of being honest with pat and he knows i am not interested in making decisions anytime soon.

and my boss called last week and told me that he will no longer be being my boss, because we are amidst an ORGANIZATIONAL RE-ORGANIZATION, and people like me are getting tossed around like BEEEDS AT MARDI GRAS.

they can only find enough work to keep people like me on the road for 250 days out of the year, instead of 350, which means that they are losing all of those PROFITS that you learned all about in Economics Class.

people like me, who are based out of small offices are being re-assigned to places like texas, and people from texas are being assigned to places like kansas city and who knows. people in richmond are being assigned to texas, except for me, because i am in LIMBO.

if they could explain it better, then they would say that it is like having a big lump of butter on one side of your toast, and bone-dry toasted surfaces at the other end of the toast. they are SPREADING OUT THE DELICIOUSNESS AND ALLOWING ALL EXPOSED SURFACES TO BE GLEEFULLY SATURATED WITH BUTTER OR PERHAPS I CANT BELIEVE IT IS NOT BUTTER. but in their defense, yes it is more complicated than this.

they are trying to corner me into a CORNER, is what they are trying to do. they desperately want to get me off of the road and into an office desk position, because 1. they know i have expressed a distaste with being a road whore and 2. they seem to favor my work ethics and moxiousissity, even though i am using them only from eight until five and i am definitely not getting a largened head over it, and not a hard-on either, because i don’t like my career like that.

also, rich, who is the manager in the philadelphia office, called me on friday and said that if i want to be a road whore after this spring, and richmond does not want me anymore, then he would like me to come to his city, which lost the superbowl yesterday, because i cheered for them.

what all of this jibberish means is that three seperate parts of the organization are kind of fighting over me, and the one i have dedicated five years to is not.

OF COURSE, ALL OF THIS IS A MOO-T POINT IF I PULL A WALT WHITMAN AND WANDER THE COUNTRY PENNILESS AND WRITE POEMS CONTAINING DIFFICULT NINETEENTH CENTURY VOCABULARY AND HAVE PROMISCUOUS SEXUAL ENCOUNTERS WITH YOUNG AND STRAPPING WORKING CLASS (GENTLE)MEN.

i truly am sorry, but i have sort of grown attached to the bouts of capitalization.

OH, WHITEST OF WHITE RUSSIANS, IF I ASKED YOU POLITELY, WOULD YOU PUT A STOPPAGE TO THE ONWARDNESS OF TIME ITSELF, IF I ASKED YOU OF MY SINCEREST BEHESTS? SOMETIMES, I CAN BE SINCERE!

SOMETIMES, I CAN BE SINCERE!

p.s. also, to be quite fair, my one month in orlando has been sort of good for me, in that i have not been feeling like a zombie, and i have been feeling more and more like a human being, which i have recently re-discovered is my actual biological categorization. having more than 8 hours per week to do whatever the fuck one wishes to do is not a benefit which should be underestimated. a place + things + freetime = stability is an equation which i believe in enough to write it down in my web-based log.

p.p.s. byegoodnight!

Oh! One thing that I did not mention because I forgot, but that I will mention now is that I saw the American Idol show for the first time, on Tuesday or Wednesday or whatever day it was.

It was strangely fascinating, but also sort of disgusting.

Maybe it was fascinatingly disgusting.

All of the people that sing and who are liked for their singing sound like they would not have been out of place in TLC, or definitely would not have rocked the boat if they took Chilli’s place.

Not that TLC is bad. TLC is pretty good, maybe. Have you heard that “Waterfalls” song? Don’t go chasing them, okay?

Anyway, our airwaves shalt be overwhelmed with eternal TLC-interchangeable singers, if American Idol has their way.

I think it would be interesting if someone walked into American Idol for the audition, and they were quiet and plain, and they would be asked “WHY ARE YOU HERE?” and they would meekly say “Well, I heard that they were letting people sing songs over here, so I came over to sing a song” and the judges were a little confused, but had the mystery contestant sing a song, and then they would sing a song that made our watches stop, and people would stop doing their dishes in the kitchen and they would stare at the television intently, and the judges would be motionless from the shock of this re-awakening, taking place live on television.

And when the singer finished there would be silence for several seconds, as everyone would be trying to digest this beautiful event which had just transpired, and then the judges would be lavishing great praises and exclamations upon what they had just observed, and they would talk amongst themselves and try to compare it to anything that had ever happened before, and nothing would be deemed equal, and they would realize that the singing that had just been performed was one of the most startlingly gorgeous things to ever happen to them so unexpectedly.

And then they would say “Welcome to Hollywood!”

And then the meek little singer would say “No thanks. I just came to sing a song. Bye.” and then they would leave.

I think that would be neat.

Today, there is nothing much going on and nothing much to observe and then discuss.

I am only going to go to work and listen to the woosh of the office building’s HVAC systems, and drink terrible coffee that office people prefer, and I will probably receive phone calls and “fight fires” and dissolve technical problems as solutes into the liquid of my informations.

And also I will work on a spreadsheet, because THEY ARE NEEDING THE SPREADSHEET.

But today, there is nothing much going on and nothing much to observe and then discuss.

I apologize.

I am not sure, but I think that my “hand in marriage”, or whatever it is, has been sold, or at least promised, to a young woman who I think lives in Batavia.

Batavia is where we used to play hockey at 3AM on Sunday mornings, although we preferred to think of them as Saturday nights.

But hockey has nothing to do with this. This is serious and possibly detrimental!

Today, I received this email, from a girl named Elisabeth:

Well, I guess I could start by saying hello. As we both know Pat and your mom have been trying to play match maker. LOL. So I thought I would at least write and say hello. How has work been going for you? Pat had told me that you are currently working in flordia. Must be nice to work in the sun. Well, if you want you can write back. Maybe next time your home we can get together. Hope to hear from you soon.

-Elisabeth

It was shocking, but not so much, seeing as I had received this email yesterday:

Tim….I got this email today from patty. Apparently Elisabeth would like you to email. I don’t know if you are comfortable with that.. . .I guess a casual email saying thank you for how sweet she is with regards to your grandmother would be a good place to start. I guess Gary has been in sizing her up also in his many trips to the bank about Fred. She has his sign of approval. He thinks she is a really nice girl that would easily get along with erin should there ever be a double date in the future. That might be another avenue . . .of common people known I honestly had forgotten about this matchmaking of gram’s….but apparently Elisabeth did not and has been hoping to hear from you. I am not trying to matchmake. I did not initiate this, although i do think she is very cute. Some emails back and forth would probably be a good idea to break the ice so when and if you ever ask her out when visiting would be more comfortable. Guess you’d both know from writing if you have much in common.

-Mom

So I stop and I think a minute.

“Have I ever met this ‘Elisabeth’ person?”, I ponder to myself.

“Yes. I think I went to the bank on Christmas Eve. I was in New York, visiting my parents for the holiday. My mom had me drop off cookies or soup or something, at the bank, for Patty. Patty is a bank teller. Patty is Mom’s friend.”

I begin to interrogate myself!

What happened in the bank?! What happened in the fucking bank?!

“Umm. There were some some snow flurries. I parked on the street, (and I parallel parked like it was the last time I ever would!). Then I got out and I walked into the bank. I saw Patty and I walked over to her counter. And there were no customers in the bank, probably because it was Christmas Eve. And I said ‘My mom made you some soup or cookies or whatever it was.’ and I set them on the counter. And Patty said thank you. And then Patty said ‘Oh Tim!Bythewaythisiselisabeth!’ and she pointed at the girl next to her. And I said ‘Hi I’m Tim Nice to meet you.’ and then I said ‘Bye Patty bye everyone’ to all of the bank people and I left and I walked down the block to Rudy’s where I was going to meet my parents for brunch and I ordered a coffee and waited by myself, because my parents were late, and it was awkward sitting by myself, because then I noticed that Renee’s aunt and uncle were at the next table throwing off weird vibes, and the Rudy’s menu isn’t big enough to hide behind, and then I got sick of waiting so I ordered my food and another cup of coffee and finally my parents showed up and OH SHIT I CANT REMEMBER WHAT I HAD TO EAT FOR BRUNCH ON DECEMBER 24TH 2004.”

I stopped interrogating myself, because I decided it was silly.

But it seems that, based on a ten second meeting of good-enough-soulmates, I have been promised away. Like an Indian princess.

Or anyone from India, I guess.

Like Siva. He’s a guy I work with, and he had an arranged marriage last summer, and he was wanting to complain a little, up until he went back to India. I could tell. But since then he’s been giddy, or not complainful, because I think that Siva is getting laid a lot, maybe.

Also, Siva is the name of a song on ‘Gish’.

But Siva says that you should pronounce his name exactly like it looks. None of this “Sheeeeeeeee-va” or “Seeeeeee-va” business.

Just “Si-va”. It’s that plain.

But WAIT! I am not Indian! I am an redbloody American patriot subtle democrat-liberal and fakerepublican when absolutely necessary, and I have bloodlines that go back to William Bradford! Yes! THE William Bradford, who was the president HMFIC at Plymouth Rock! I am not supposed to be arranged predeterminably with other peoples!

Maybe people are figuring that Tim is desirous of being arranged into a couple formation, but has not the means, because y’know, he is pretty quiet and homely. ‘We will do him a favor! We will arrange him with someone of similar dispositions!’ maybe they say.

There is no “I am this way, because this is the way I prefer to be.” or “What’s the rush?” OH NO! NOT!

Then I think “I’m going to stop thinking about this, because I am tired and hungry and the Daily Show is coming on soon. Oh, and sorry for interrogating you earlier. That was totally uncalled for.”

“s’alright..”

Then I temporarily interrupt my mental retreat: “Dude. Dont I live, like, a thousand miles away and I’m only up there, like, maybe six or seven days out of the year?” (My mental thought-speech is riddled with “dudes” and “umms” and “likes”)

And I’m like “Yeah. Wtf? Whatever. Do we want popcorn for dinner?”

And I’m like “Totally.”

Because I also thoughtspeak like Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, because it is a lot more forced-sounding than Excellent Adventure -thoughtspeak would be.

I shall cash in upon sequels.

just when i think that i might have a momentum.

it was only a um..moment.

on sunday, i went to a record fair. or a record show. or a record extravaganza. this is where the geeks of the 70′s sell their rare prog/psych masterpieces to geeks of the 90′s and 00′s

shit. i lost my train of thought.

there is a white russian in my immediate present. i am naming one icecube “Viktor”. and the rest i could give a rat’s ass about.

Treat me so good, Viktor.

so, i inadvertently ended up spending over one hundred dollars on records.

which is the bad news.

the good news is:

bryter layter on vinyl? jesus, yes!

alan white’s solo record? how did you find that?!

van der graaf generator? umm, finally!

triumvirat? alright. you’re getting a bit nwerdy on me now.

and much more!

the dude that i spent the most money with (he had everything!) wants to be my friend, now. i guess that i am going to another record show in tampa bay in a couple of weeks. if i do not, i think i will hurt his feelings.

i never hurt feelings. ever.

i have his “business card”. his name is walter, and he does not have email.

walter liked to talk to his customers about the time he saw yes in tampa in ’74, or vanilla fudge (ah ha, Led Zeppelin got them booed off stage, once).

walter walked me to the door, on sunday. he is the only friend i have made here, so far. i think.

damn. i am very bad at getting to work on time. although i guess there isn’t really an “on time”.

i must go, brother and sister.