Look to the stars

Monday March 4th, 2013

Since returning to Cleveland, I've found myself unemployed and under motivated to do much of anything. Despite this I've also fallen into a finical boon. As a result, I've been looking at investing. Specifically I wish to invest in the city of Cleveland by purchasing and renting out a multifamily building. Seems a simple enough dream and with housing values depressed (even the high-end estate in Cleveland and it's surrounding townships max out just short of one million $) it should be attainable. However i find each lot just outside my reach. between the Points of Sale requirements, burglaries and general repair estimates even a 9,000$ house becomes a 40,000$ investment. Undoubtedly, this is recoupable but I've yet to see something to truly inspire me. ....Until now

Meredeth M Grant, a dedicated realtor through Howard Hannah has patiently showed me mush of what the eastside has to offer. I suspect her patience is wearing thin. when at the end of our showing i remained intractable. Driving away, I happened across a brilliant building: the Warner and Swasey Observatory. Dedicated in 1920, the Warner and Swasey Observatory was once a part of Case Western and remained so until 1983 when the Case Western department of Astronomy sold the property in favor of a new location outside the city's light pollution.

It has since changed hands several times (more often than not into the sheriff's department). It's most recent investor was brought to bare against morgage fraud and now the deed lies with the City of East Cleveland.

Currently it's fallen into great disrepair. I believe with every fiber of my being that it must be revitalized. Perhaps not again as an observatory. Given infinite resources I would transform this property into a community driven learning center. However, my resources are quite limited. That said, I am turning to you, internet, for help. I wish to turn this building into working order and I don't know who or how to ask for help. I was thinking of speaking to the Natural Historic registry for a grant or there must exists entrepreneurial trusts for educational undertakings, yes? Please, if you read this and see the same glory lost, here leave a comment or check out this facebook page or simply email me.

Thank you for reading.

-mr. wordy

The phone rings. I lift it to my ear.

 "hello." it was Marcus. his baritone voice falters in the phone. drunk. again, "hello?"

"hey."

a pause. long. I begin to speak, he cuts me off. "hey, sorry, am i bothering you?" I reply no. across the couch my cat, Mugen, stretches and turns on his belly. I reach a palm out to pet him. "Can i ask you something?" Marcus asks. Unusual, as he almost always inquires about me whenever he calls. Mugen trots over my lap. he pushes against my phone before jumping down. He did always like Marcus. I reply yeah.

"I wanted to know," he begins. "...i was wondering..." I can hear the ice rattle in the glass in his hand. "I get that we're no longer romantically involved. I understand that it never worked out. But that night... Valentines day. when i came over and we watched movies all night long." his voice cracks "I guess - I mean... don't you ever think about us? Like, when we were intimate? I mean, it was valentines' day. I was alone, you were alone, i just thought it would be natural." a pause. then more confidently, "I just need some closure. I like you, and you like me" it was true "we're not in love - least no more." also true. "wasn't i fun?  Am I not attractive? did we not enjoy each other once? I don't want to sound like a desperate x lover. And I tell myself over and over that we're done. that I don't want to be close to you. no offence. but, like, we're s'posed to be friends, right? just tell me that you don't lay awake at night on occasion and think of me carnally. that you don't even like me that i'm weird and awkward and a silly boy with too little pride and not enough ..." the flick of a light and a hiss of a cigarette. I can almost taste the buttery ash on his breath. "or tell me that you do still feel for me. in some small way. That your heart was torn. That we were too different. two different people. tell me something!"

I don't know what to say. I can't even think. "I..."

"Nevermind. I don't want to know." he exhales, "I think... I think if i didn't know then, I don't want to know now. it... perhaps its better this way. sorry to bother you." then "I hope you are well."

I wish I could say something. I wish I would. perhaps it's better this way. perhaps it's better this way.

Aging

Nothing in this universe is permanent. Everything changes. Subjects to the inexhustiable effects of time. even blackholes, quasars and other phenomenon where in time and relativity are supposedly altered are themselves subject to change over time. Gods and Timelords alike are so ancient and so long-lived that they seem immortal. they, too, will eventually lay down to rest.

I recently returned from a trip to Omaha. Time has given me the opprotunity to reflect on my trip. Time is on my mind. I visited old friends. In Omaha and Iowa City we reconnected over the vastness of Time and space that had seperated us since college. My how life changes us. Once we were radical, spirited and energized youth machines of promise and ideals. Tamed by age. No. We are still spirited radicals of ideal and promise. But nights spent discussing taxes and marriages instead of Family Guy episodes and Magic: the Gathering cards.  No raucous beer songs. Belched, warbled notes eriely absent from these temperate nights of late. 10 dollar beer tabs and 42 dollar meals instead of the other way around.

The camaraderie is not tamed. However, the mindless hedonism replaced by utilitarian philosophy. I suppose it is well; though i must admit some sorrow on my part. I've never looked to death or age or pondered much about either. Until recently i've never though of myself as a man, aged. I've simply grown over time. Prehaps i've learned more - wizened, as it were - i can drive a car and think critically to name a few acquired skills.

While in Omaha I stopped by the Joslyn Art Museum. I adore art. The musem is fantastic. It's modest collection is well worth the 10$ entry fee. While wandering the annuls of....

Adventures in the Timeline of Marc

   ...It is closing time at Wendy's. the outside lights are dim, it's 12:01 and a single car pulls to the window.

    "WE ARE CLOSED." a polite voice whispers. The grill is still hot, with pattied meat well cooked. Fries bath in salt under warm sunlight. The mop stands like a spear in Adam's hands. It was later, that the time came to count discards and begin the arduous task of cleaning. First I collected the beef patties from the flattop and stored for tomorrow's chili. Wendy's continued to impress me with it's near-lack of food waste. In past jobs we've been forced to cart away pounds of rotten dishes, veggies and soups. Here we sold such quantity that 'left-over' was also a meaningless. So, I was then that I took the waste, after previous nights management permitted free sandwiches to her hard-working staff post hours. Seeing three pieces of fairy cooked  grilled chicken (well past the 4 hour mark) that could be torn a part and boiled into next-night's meal.
    I gave Linda the count, "Four crispy chickens and I took the grilled." I said cheerily.

    She stopped entirely as if struck, turning slowly we connected eyes. "you can't do that."

    I paused. I had suspected the previous manager's policy of over cooked sandwiches was not entirely sanctioned. See, at Monica's we had the luxury of eating damaged, burned or extra food. But only after hours. we were also given allotted shift meal )provided we had a busy night). But knowing, as I do from stories from my ex, ruby's tales of managerdom at Joann Fabrics, I predicted that Wendy's has a strict, you want it, you pay for it attitude towards freebeing employees. Personally I feel that the workers, as part owners, community members and operators of Wendy's have a right to food that we cooked, though purchased by the franchise, is by now unsellable, in the eyes of the owners, fit for the roaches in the dumpster. Thus, I did feel quite confident in intervening in the process of grill to trash. Being fired was the worst outcome.

    "I can pay for it." I offered, perhaps I could keep this job after all. With a second job on the horizon and school still 4 months off, I might test my ability to run two jobs at once, and save my position as Wendy's Crew.

    Linda shrugged. And I felt a tingle of anticipation, a shrivelling, worrisome sensation in my sprunjer.

Silence.

   Yet, It wasn't the repercussions that I thought of from taking discard meat from Wendy's that worried me, but the ominous way she slouched her shoulders and shook her head and said "I'm sorry. and they have you on Camera." She pointed to the dorms upon the ceiling, I waited for something to happen. Nothing. We finished closing, and still not a word after the lights flickered off. While wiping down the stainless steal I speculated what being fired was like. It had happened before, in such a terrible manor that I had grown steal over my heart. Though I felt the cause to be unjust; I loved working Ge-Angelo's but I never did befriend the owner, I was too unready in his eyes (perhaps I was - I was the only one in the kitchen without aspirations of Chefhood. I worked simply for a dime whilst I looked for careers outside a kitchen). I reasoned being fired because I took food one might scavenge from the trash, counted as trash, and, momentarily, still counter-bond. Then why the horrified look and the dejected nod. the sorrow in Linda's big brown eye? surely she did not believe anyone could love a job so much to be crushed by the prospect of an other's forced absence. Well, I began to think of other scenarios. Maybe she'd fire me at the end of close, maybe Ed, the General Manager would do it the next day I worked. The idea of having to wait another day to be laid off didn't seem to be that bothersome. I began to images wild scenarios, the police showing up in a strobe-light lit cars of red and blue. The heal risks of  4 hour plus chicken. The ghost of Dave appearing that night to haunt me. A dark cabal of fast-food owners adding me to their assassination list.


___________________________________________________________
I am typing this so the word will know my story.
I hear the creak of floor boards and the chilling cry cold wind on the windows.
IF I survive the night, I shall post anew.

Music 5/10/11

day 06 - a song that reminds you of somewhere

I guess I have nostalgia on the brain. A friend dropped off a six pack of Sam Adams at my place last weekend. the hoppy, full-bodied genuine cold filtered draft dances on my tongue and I recall the first taste of beer from what seems like eons ago. We were sitting on the wharf, my family and I. The summer sun was strong, I think. It was a weekend. We had just spent a morning at Boston's Childern's Museum and my parents wished to relax at a near by restaurant. My dad (or mom) ordered a beer. Being 6 or 7 or whatever at the time, I wanted a taste. But I digress. Perhaps I'm cheating a bit, because the recent bout of nostalgia made me remember a certain place I hear a song (rather then visa versa). It was on Foresthills st. that I first hear the song above. the caterwauling vocals of "Boston, you're my home" immediately perked my interest. I recall sitting at this light in my father's car when the this song came on the radio. At the corner of the off ramp of Arbor way, turning on to Washington was just moments from home. The intersection is one that imparts on many of my childhood memories.

Life

Little is better then t enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate while watching the drifting snow settle.
It snowed this morning - is still snowing now.
When I awoke i could think in only bitter, groggy curses and oaths
After class i was handed a cup by a kindly older woman.
As i sat on the front bumper of my car I stole sips from the aromatic beaverage
and reflected on how some of the best wisdom is learned through experience.

thanks

Introduction

I'm not sure how many reader are familiar with The Bright Orange Thread.

Anyway, I have a new addition to my household. A delightful, super fuzzy kitten.  He has taken the moniker, Mugen (Officially Mugen-kun).

The first hurdle this little guy must cross is the ever vigilant eye of Big Sister - Pepper, I mean.  She is less then ecstatic about this little visitor. At first, she did what a cat does when her home is invaded by a stranger. At first, he was sequestered in a different room so that all she could do is growl and hiss that the door. Gradually (not that gradually, actually it was in two days) she would sit, pearched, and stare at him. Slowly, he worked his charms on her.

Now they are the best of pals and spend time playing and frolicking [photo not found].

Le Sigh

This week, for me, has been terrible. I got a staff infection and my face swelled up like a basketball. My computer's mother's turned into charcoal over night. I got fired from Ge-Angelo's. I could go on discussing my woes. So I will.

But whatever issues that occur here, on this blog, are relatively minor compared to the troubles across the world. I simply need a place to vent my frustrations. This wasn't what i had in mind when i started blogging. It's hard to resist the pull to talk about the trifles in one's own life. even as i write this i think about Ruby in Germany baring witness to the slow demise of her Oma. (Oma is German for Grandmother) Oma is a strong hearted person. A stroke has stolen her movement and age sapped her physical strength yet still she trudges on in her life with all the pertinaciousness of a waterbuffalo through impassible swamp. what's more, she does it with good humor and optimism. If we could all be so fortunate.

Back to me, then

I finally lost my job at Ge-Angelo's.

The thing that bothers me the most, I think, about being fired is just the way it happened. I was professional in everything i did. I have kitchen experience. I know how a kitchen needs to run. I wasn't eating on the line like other chefs. I wasn't licking my fingers while plating deserts. I understood the importance of presentation. I washed my hands between each task. I tried to communicate to people, but I'm just not used to yelling. We never had to yell at eachother at Monica's. I'm short, so it's hard to reach the items on the upper shelves where everything i need to do my job seems to be stacked. I tried to get along with the other chefs. I just could not make connections with people. Frankly I felt unliked; I don't think anyone respected me.

I was fired because this the third time Ryan had to talk to me. this time it was about dishes. I cleaned dishes at Monica's and I cleaned dishes at Bagel Beanry and I clean dishes at home. I know how to clean dishes. Hannes and Nick were helping me put dishes away 'cause we got swarmed. They had a responsibility, too, to make sure they were clear of spots and grime before being put away. If there were dirty dishes being put away they were also apart of it. . According to Ryan all the fucking dishes were dirty.I guess because i the designated Dish Monkey it falls to me. I dunno. They weren't dirty when they came out of the sanitizer. Maybe that's broken, Ryan.

Some part of me says I shoulda argued with him. That I shoulda pointed out all the possible problems mentioned above. But i just stood there and listened to him I denied some parts of what he said but I didn't give any strong argument against it. It was the same as the other two times. There were reasons why.

It's hard. You know, you get swamped and it's hard to come up with coherent thought in the moment.

What if I did? What could I gain? Save a job I don't like working for a guy who doesn't like me, always looking for the next chance to fire my ass, no chance for promotion, little opportunity for a raise and no job satisfaction?

At least it would've been a pay check.

I dunno. what bothers me is now i have to look for another job and i don't know if i can use this guy as a reference.

It's just that i feel like every time I try to do something everything goes bad. I went yesterday to get my college stuff in order and i get fired. the day before i cleaned my place and i got a staff infection. My face is swelled up like a basketball. I can't think with out hurting. I tried to transcribe some work from my notebook to my computer for Revisioning and my motherboard turned into charcoal. I'm afraid that if i clean my car the engine's gonna explode.

I can't seem to get away. I wanna tell somebody off. Yell my feelings. I can look 'em in the eye and think it but the words just aren't there.

I miss Ruby. She could put this into perspective.

I fear that she deserves better than me. I feel like I can't provide a lifestyle for her. She deserves more than a shitty place in a shitty town paid for by a shitty part-time job. Someone to be with who can fight for himself. Even if it's about something he doesn't think is that important. Just stand up. Don't take being told your terrible at what you do!

Fuck Ryan! I'm a great chef. I'm an amazing sauteer. I love tossing some pasta or some vegetables. Flavoring things! I love creating dishes that satisfy and challenge the pallet. It doesn't always work out great. hey, cooking is about experimentation. But when it does, yumm!

You know, the first month i worked there i tried to do everything by their (Ryan's) letter, by his law. That didn't work. I got reprimanded for working that way because there is not priority. And he keeps his recipes secrete! How can I make something on the fly if i don't know the ingredients? So then i tried being creative. do it the way i would do it if it were my place. I utilized the skills I developed from previous work experiences. I got reprimanded for that. it wasn't the method he wanted even if the results were the same. So then i said fuckit. I'm just gonna show up and do it and not care and not make it something personal. I got fired for that!

I just don't know anymore.

what's new is old again

I suppose today wasn't as terrible as it could've been.  I arrived to work late and sweaty; prefect for working with 500 degree ovens.I lost the five dollars i put in my pocket for dinner on the long ride from home to work. I was slightly late, just in time to tackle the hundered and ten dishes left from the previous night (i guess Ge-angelo's was busy last night). I don't even like eating off dishes. We had a fair night so i got to stay an hour late to clean up too. In addition, My teeth have been hurting, a more constiant reminder of my need for medical care. Fortunately, thats an easy fix as i've recently acquired insurance.

I sucked it in and confronted Ruby today as well. point blank I asked her if she loved me. I thought and raved all day and come up with a question i needed answered. I deserve to love someone who loves me back, I said. I am a strong, caplible person with a heart and needs and I need to know what this is. I didn't tell her (at first) that I still loved her. She answered quite slowly. She Answered in the affermitive. I love you, said Ruby. I'm worried, though, she continued, that it is a love of convenience.  Ok that wasn't exactly what she said. But she didn't need to. I can't remember the words to the letter, but basically Ruby feels conserned that we're together not due to Love but ease.

I'm not one who believes in Absolutes. There is a certain definiteness in saying "i love you." A suggestion that it is a love eternal. But how can we say that with assuredness? We are temporal creatures. we think, judge, love, hate, fight, hug all while advancing steadily through time. eventually we (as individuals) will cease to be able to live temporally. we die. no one can say what happens next (i'll cross that bridge when it arrives). Nothing is Absolute, including Love. I don't believe in Absolute Love - in fairytale love that lasts forever. I don't think there is exactly one person -a soul mate- for each other person on this plant. Love doesn't come in couplets (not always, at any rate). Love must be shared, dynamic. Love changes over time; waxes and wanes; it can grow or fade away. You can love some one today one way and love them still ten years later completely differently. don't dispare, though, Love is not fickle. Not mine. I don't know if this is True Love either. I know that when i look at her, my chi, my heart, my being feels relaxed - confident even giddy. (ironically, i think, one of the reasons she is unnerved as open to her every thought and action... i digress)

I won't pretend to know depths of Ruby's mind. She is beautifully complex. I suspect, however, that no small part of her anxiety is, in part, my Bisexuality. She fears (i believe) that because she is the first woman i've been involved with with any seriousness. that I'm only with her because it's easy.

Nothing i do is ever easy. more seriously, Ruby, if your reading, if i wanted easy i would've stayed at my job in Iowa City smoking pot when i wasn't working and never thinking outside the next party. I knew that wasn't the person i wanted to be. I'm seeking to change - to grow.

I don't know what's in the future. but i know i'm glad that you'll be with me, Ruby.

I Love You

first date (again)

This morning i did something new. rather something i've not done in years. I took a bike ride. It was amazing. Specaular even. I rode along a deer-trail that snaked the Skunk River. Plus three hours exploring Ames on the back of  two wheels. It gave me some time to think. it also wore my unexercised ass out. So I'll give you the condensed version.

Basicly i sat down with Ruby and professed the awkwardness of our perdiciment. I still had strong feelings about her. I beleive she still feels connected to me as well. I suggested that it might help if we restarted our relationship. A reboot. This evening we went to a movie. A first date that ended with a kiss and a promise of another.

I don't know what all this means. Or if we still have a future. I am not a confindent person. I don't have a strong voice. When i speak i'm often (and easily) over spoken which hurts my esteem. I'm distracted easily and more easily diswaded and disheartened. I seem to causuly accept the misfortunes in my life rather then. face them in order to over come them. I intend to work on these (and other, negitive) aspects of myself.

A honestness is about us. one that lets us tell without fear worries and conserns we have for eachother. Distance seems to help. Though she is feet -no inches- away, I still miss her.

I'll prolly edit this post tomorrow when i Re-awaken. I hope to start posting more in the mornings rather then at night.

thanks for reading.
and the continued discretion of Ruby's and my choices of our life.

Time

Today. long-time girlfriend and i have separated. She suggested it timidly. Explaining the thoughts that gnawed in the back of her mind. I listened. I took in her words without remorse or affliction. In the end we agreed that we each felt like two half persons.  I felt, too, that I needed to grow as an individual. It was agreed upon that it was imperative for us to separate in order for us to proceed with our development individually.

I care a great deal for Ruby. As a friend. As a lover. As a person. But did I debate her? beg against her deepest thoughts? ranted? raved? confessed my heart over and over? no. I simply let it come with silent patience like a man watching a gathering storm. should I have? Would it change her beliefs? or mine?

Empathy is not my strong suit. I feel (ha) like i should be broken up about this break-up. Perhaps in the back of my mind I know it is a trial. Or in the not-so-far back of my mind as we are still living together (did i mention it was a trial separation?). I also feel terrible for not feeling poorly about it all. Ruby seems to be more of the mind set of one-who's-newly-single.

In order for one to grow, I've always believed one must face tribulations life.

I know many of you readers (if not, all) are mutual friends of ours. Ruby has requested not to inform others (yet) - she wishes to avoid any (outside) drama. so please do not make a big deal of this and please do not inform the public.

-marcus

three daze

Too often, I think, do these post start with 'I.' With the woes of the world, it grows increasingly difficult to convince myself that my own problems are of worth writing. A good friend of mine, who is mostly likely reading this, has returned to places far away to meet problems face-to-puffing-face. I admire him greatly. He has a great many things i never had: troubles. I know that I've lived a sweet life. (still do.) But should i be needed to be called on for the necessities he must face, i doubt i could rise to the occasion. My strength lie in leisure (i'm not so sure i should say 'strength'). Then with other, further reaching troubles of the uncared masses besiege me. From the morning news of death, tragedy and disaster, of poor of sick of sorrow. The maladies family overcry what little i have to complain. the fact that i have things alone to complain about should not be over looked when considering the absolute loss of those who would throw themselves C4 first into death's unforgiving grayness (perhaps at the cause of some-such or another; though i think they've lost so much they see little recourse).

Last week I found myself unable to move from the bed in mornings. Paralyzed perhaps. Where before, eagerly i leapt from slumber to see each new day, recently I only wish to return to my dreamless purgatory. But last Sunday was different. I forced heavy limbs and moved to greet morning light (a pay check in need of cashing was of no little aid). I awoke with the birds and met the day. In impulse I whisked Ruby to a theme-park (Adventureland) where our bottled stress uncorked with cries of eager delight and fear as i faced mine: Rollercoasters.

Yes, dear reader, I've long had a knee weakening fear of metal tracks twisting and winding clamorously, tearing even, through an amusement-park. We started slow: the merry-go-round, ferris wheel, some big pirate themed swing-a-majig, the inverter, then my first big challenge: the space shot. Basically a chair attached to a massive pneumatic piston that flung the passengers a bunch of stories skyward with a nasty hiss of air. it is not heights or speed or motion that bother me about 'rides'. rather the unnatural, awkward method they arrive to get you there. When you're driving or on your bike or climbing trees you're incomplete control of your motion. at least to some extent you can choose to continue or stop (though cases arrive where you are committed to an action, say an abnormally large hill or lost hand-hold).

In reality, the effects of simulated motion are not nearly as jarring as they would appear. In fact it was quite liberating - invigorating if you will. I loved it.  We rode everything once then returned to some choice favorites through the day. I suggest The Outlaw at Adventureland. It has no inversions or loops, but steep curves and tall, tight, twisting hills blended within it's compact structure make it an intense ride.

but the day didn't truly take to whimsical flight until a sudden shower lifted our sun-dampened spirits. Actually, it drove most off the fun and into shelter or fleeing from the park. But we would not be deterred. truth is, everything is better in a summer rain. from coasters to swings. Also, the park's patrons dried up to keep wait times down. With camera at hand many moments were captured of this triumphant day though many more can only be shared in memory.

On me

 For now, i have an income. I suppose that's something to be proud of because, recentally, there was threat against my current employment. But all this has got me thinking of things. Things I own, would like to own and my own self.

As I write this I am drunk. Drunk as hell. So take me with liberty when i say I've never been had much attachment fir possessions. I grew up with Buddhist thought. I was given a car by me parents for which has given me much aid and support. yet, it is not in owning the car but the experience of it that I value most.  Recently, however, I've been pulled into enjoying ownership of things. Things around me. Not so much that I care more about the objects. No, rather that people I care about - a person I want around me- has need for items in her life. Specifically, plants. Plants to surround and beautify the area. (one could do worse then have want for beauty and growth.) My upbringings have taunt me the eight-fold path and the four noble truths. of which include the despisement of objectification. I should not want objects not desire  for - make an object out of- a living thing.

Why? I now ask. Why? Don't i deserve something? Don't I deserve things -reward- for my toils? The love and hardships my closest companion express are to create, to grow, to expand and enjoy the fruits of her (or his) hard work. I can't see how that could be a bad thing.

Perhaps I've strayed from the beliefs of my upbringing. Where before I cared not but for others I think of myself, of my own gain and loss.  Where once there was contentment there is, now, distension. I want. I desire. I need. I postulate having and not having. I addition to my growing selfishness is the feeling of ambition. I want recognition for my works. I'm no longer content to do. To work enough to drink and play is no longer enough. I want to express my deepest thoughts and cry My Desires to the sky.

For  those readers not known, the Eight Fold Path is a Buddhist teaching of life. they seek to teach Wisdom, Ethics and philosophy. All towards the attainment of the four noble truths: (which, as follows, should sound familiar to used to evangelical Christianism.) First: there is suffering and it is unavoidable. Second, the origin of your pain is beyond your ability to fix. third, you can cease your pain. The way to stop your pain is to follow the eight fold path. It is hard to turn away from what is/was taught to you. I don't know if it is for better or worse (not a plug for the gawd awful comic)  but i am turning from it. I am embracing ambition, desire and need. I want. I seek and I will attain.

   -Marcus Miranti, Freedman

New.s

So much has happened recently. I'm not sure where to start. first, I got thrown out of a state park. then, I meet a whole new group of people I call "Addies." I got to hang with some old friends and meet some new ones. I enrolled at ISU. (hurray educations)  I got a scanner I'm totally stoked about. Finally, just may, in general has been a fantastic adventure.

Sunday.
 I traveled several hours to Mt Vernon (affectionately: MV) to attend the Sponge Wedding of Kristine Foster (OOO! Shiny) and Lizz "Keps" Kepsel. Anyway, after a wondrous drive through rolling hills where long, tuffed grass frolicked, wind-wavened like ocean waters, I rolled into the Pal around 2:30 and set up camp. It was oppressively hot. So humid that even blood-sucking insects were too tired to feast. Natey found me dropping payment for the well attended campsite (Although why they charge i haven't a clue. From almost every fire ring drifted lazy smoke of forgotten embers. The Wedding went fabulously and the reception got underway.  We started on the great quantity of drink provided. I, too, thought it pertinent to pack pilsner, though, as i found, it was excess. which made the next events harder. When the shelter's reservation ended (about 5 o'clock) Park Ranger Joe-Mama showed up, demanded we vacate. But not before we dumped all our booze for his sadistic pleasure. the bastard. Our Precious precious booze and cut our party short. we had minors (of which i was unaware) so for not getting ticket and fined i s'pose that is fair. NO. Fuck that! It wasn't fair at all! I'm 24! I have a right to carry beer in a cooler in a park that allows alcoholic beverages. I wish I was less compliant.

Later.
because being kicked out of a state park wasn't enough adventure for an evening, I found myself in Iowa City meandering the Ped-Mall. The rows of pedestrian only streets (well, two lined such to form a 'T') fell willingly under the shade of broad leafed trees. I found a spot under one and sipped a delightful sangria provided by Mundo's Saloon. I read The Time Machine in the orange setting sun. all the while sending out thread for further use of my time. I pasted up Jordan (sorry) and Darcy (also sorry) to return to Cornell College campus. I've not been to Cornell in a ages. the specific reasons for my enforced absence is too long to delve into now (though, with some persuasion, I could be encouraged to regale the populous). more to the point, I found Alro along the way to hang out with a group of folks who will be known to me henceforth as "Addies." Much as entire generations have been cataloged with language (e.g. Hippies, Metalheads, ect.) I've labeled another sect.

Addies.
groups of people characterized by others by their corrosive behavior, favor to excess, and constant use of inebriates. I usually shy from heedless categorizations of subcultures. Recently, I've seen the function of label (as abstract and closed-minded they might be). Addies are born of extremity - but this isn't about them. (actually it is, but i want to wait to talk about this class of person). I would dwell longer of this subculture. In living moment to moment is truly liberating in this: there is a bliss in not caring about the next.

At night.
I sat, bent head listening to the spiny clatter of boxes from 2am delivery. It was the elementary school. from it's rooftop, under waning stars we smoked and now we waited. cold dew soaked my clothes. my ears pounded with each new, muttering step of our  blockade. I, for my part, took our siege to use. I wrote to the stars. to my plight. to all i cared to address. Once the milk was unloaded, a sudden shuttering alerted us to freedom. Thought we were unable to loss one of the party members from the chilled roof top, I left a cashe of  blankets for her safety. Though, as i suspected, she was in more than capable hands and was later retrieved.

Home.
I returned exausted and defeated. the loss of 12 hours and 24 units of beer sapped all my enthusiasm. Thankfully, Arlo a great friend of mine accompanied me a short way. The day was bright and the flowers seemed to smile and dance on the springtime breeze. I thanked my benefactors for their aid and comfort and supply but I shall not the company again of Addies. Not for a while. The sun set before me in great orange sky as I pulled into the rock drive of home. there i rested in the arms of equally tired Ruby, who waited patiently my return.

Late-nite-thoughts

                                 

At some point I wish'd to expess thoughts of these stories. But now i feel as a fly buzzing away other's lives.
buzzz buzzz buzzz
like the question that lingers in my head:

-what does it mean to Exist?-

any one whose contemplated existence has wondered the cliche of purpose. the question of why am I here? Outside the caveat of answers ranging from simple biologics to complex ideologies, the question is often lost to us in the fray of Philosophical notions. Few people can ponder their own existence with out the improprieties of vanity, Emo-ism, or ponce-itude. (i like 50¢ words). However, there is a growing population of folks who've been brought to life with an express propose. To be clear, i don't think ill of families like the Goldbergs (see Henry Strongin Goldberg). nor do i believe that PGD or any genetics work is bad, malicious or unethical. What interests me is the notion that someone could have a concreteness to their being -their existence (outside of love, biology, survival instinct and all the other demands humans might have for children).

 The reason one might've been created is nothing more than first forced steps of life.
Life come to those who continue the journy.

Forever and Questioningly yours,
-Marcus Miranti

something old, something new

Hello, readers!

The elders of you might notice something new at the bottom of my posts these days. well, today, actually. Because, starting today, i've signed up for a program called Adsense. it essentially allows Google(tm) to use their data-mining software and post relevant ads on this space (where i've determined them they should go like). it's not as Orwellian as it sounds. the third party that Google sells my space to pays me for hits generated on my properties (tho, i'm prohibited from telling you, faithful readers, to explore these ads). However, i haven't a clue what the payments will look like. I suspect not terribly significant - not such that i could quit my job at any rate.

That said, i've been resistant to Adsense since i heard about it almost a hundred posts ago. I don't like the idea, even if the Ads are unobtrusive. But i need money. and i need to be able to make money from my writing. Through this very indirect method i can at least start. *hope, hope hope*

Ok, that's enough banter.

To the problem at hand. I've been doing terribly few fiction writings of late. I'd hoped that this space would be used for more...artistic feats. the catharsis that is personal writing is very nice. like masturbating slowly with cucumber-melon lotion (don't knock it until you've tried it). I'm not the only one! anyways, as nice as it is, it's not productive.

As such, instead of quaint details of my life, I'll be posting more news and reviews. (hey, that rhythms, awesome!) So tune in tonite (tomarrow)for my belated review of Stephen King's The Dark Tower.

read, writing and play
with love,
-Marcus Miranti

P.S. Oh, plz, plz post comments. I love feed back.

So, My girlfriend is by far the greatest distraction against me.
a while ago i mentioned that i oft felt a malevolent force. a sort of anti-muse. it inhabaits the innocent as well as the sinful. Unfortunately, anti-muse may be a poor name, as my anti-muse this evening involved creating a pillow th
rough the craft of seamstering

I'd meant to finish a alternitive adventure i've been writing.
I got this far:

The Illaid II drifted lazily through space. if one could call one fourh the speed of light "lazy." Fred kicked the fuel sensor with a boot and frowned. so little radium left. and so little time. 13 hours to earth. Fredrick's hand paused over the thrusters. he could speed up but what about slowing down? if he hadn't calculated right the Iliad II might not have any fuel to decalratee with, he thought. Fredrick pulled a bag of tobaccofrom his pocket and begand rolling a cigarette. No easy task in zero G. He was fast. Fast enough that no leafy flecks escaped his twisting fingers (at least not more then the enviromental systems couldn't handle.) he smiled wryly.

nevertheless, i'll shall plug away.

In other news, Dell's piece (the one piece to rule them all) did not fix my issues. So i get to deal with that dedcol.

manana, world

-marucs

I ain't Lyin' it's a day in the timeline of marc

Whelp,
It finally happened, my computer went ka-putz.
i was in quite a mood the past day and this morning 'bout it. i'd finished more work and felt really good about writing consistantly. then BAM! like a punch to the kidneys. sometimes i feel that there is a dark, maleveont force of un-creavity that staulks us all. A sort of anti-muse. If i believed in a religion, this force would certainly represent the 'devilish' side of life.

True or otherwise, i s'pose it isn't such bad luck, as the computexperts tell me my problem is a bad memory module. I knew i had a bad memory, but my computer? i guess i should be careful what i teach my AI (or where i smoke).

SO, with luck and no money on my part (thank you, dell (i wonder how infrequently that phrase is uttered?)) my computer and my work should be saved. and in 2 to 4 business weeks: hurray!

In the mean timne, thank you ruby for the accelared use of your computer. both for relaxing pokemon and writing and resuming and emailing and bloging.

tune in Tomarrow. a tried poem from my notebook or so writ the emo'd

-marcus

a day in the timeline of Marcus

/I find myself wondering through the mist of life. like a child into the fray i rush to play.
/To often do i look at my fellow rough housers and perceive the problems in my life as problems in thiers. i wish i could say it wrong to believe this is truth worldwide. I've not traveled far from my mother...land. but now i watch my Brothers and Sisters and, yes (because of my age), the Childern of Sam prance with eager vigor. and conspire with vehement wickedness.
/Prehaps it dates me to say: no Child of Sam seem to save. today, we spend. spend. spend. gone are the expansive stashies that i recall from my Brothers of my youth. take it, use it now. what happens next? no worries, you'll get more.
/we jump about with the attention span of the play ground. running arms flailing with ---- (no) care from game to unfocused game. Scandle to travisty to ever escalating scandle. "walt whitman", as a very wise goat one said, "was not limited to a hundred and 140 characters!"
/...I recall with a jovial memory, the child (quite problibly of Sam). a sun-browned boy with skin a smooth as Skippy(tm) proclaim during a game of tag: "how 'bout if there's no base" (or maybe he said 'safe'). it's a thought that stuck with me. I never saw him again, that Son of Sam, child of my Brother. but the perplexity on his playmates faces said: 'what (as all immigrant childern ask) why would you want to play with not a safe place to run - to retreat to?

A reintroduction

Hello world
i've tekken a much, much, much needed hiatus and ride myself of self deriding thoughts. futhermore, i am ready, now like never before, to show the world my bad self.
So between future, posts (growing to daily(cross figers)) and renewed (started) job searching we'll see how well i can maintain my networking... (i's roll) of caurse, my ever-complacient computorial friend has quit networking. basicly, the sharing and networking utility refuses to load. replaced drivers be damned. the crazy thing is the Repair fuction from the hard-drive and the repair function from the system disks also refuse to function. Further any (and all tried) security prgms freeze when they encounter the malware.
so, while every thing else works, fuck the wireless (rather, it sez: 'fuck you'). i'm planing to go hardwire. so i await an enthernet cable, until then, thanks to Ruby for her magnificent lending of her computer.

Thanks to all, and exquisite new years!
-marcus