Stand In Middle, Squash Like Grape

Apparently the midlife crisis is worse than I thought. As scheduled I’ve been feeling restless with my job. I’ve thought about changing jobs completely. I even went so far as to go to an interview. I guess that’s all to be expected. But this last week I’ve surprised myself. I’ve been considering a complete career change. I’ve been toying with the idea of going into—are you ready for this shit—management. Yes, you heard me right.

A job posting came up in my company last week and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I feel I truly must have done permanent herbal damage to my brain. I can’t think of any other excuse for me even contemplating a thing like this.

My first reaction to the posting was the typical “fuck that shit, I’d hang myself outside of two weeks” but then I had to stop myself. That’s where I took the wrong turn. I stopped myself. I started thinking. And over thinking. Never a good sign but par for my course.

It occurred to me that I owe it to myself to at least consider it. I have all the qualifications so why not? It would be a totally different job so that might assuage my restlessness without me having to go out in the big scary world and start fresh. And nobody has stepped up to say “hey Mark, that’s just stupid. Are you high?” In fact the response has been just the opposite. I’ve received positive feedback. Friends think I should go for it. Why won’t my friends try to talk me out of it? Why won’t they—well, I guess because they’re my friends and they know how stubborn I am and how I don’t listen to anyone anyway.

So here I sit today with my resume all ready to hand in. Today is the deadline. I wanted to take all the time possible to see if I’d talk myself out of it. Or I think what I was really hoping was that I’d receive some sort of cosmic sign that would help to guide my way. Like a big flashing light in the sky that reads “hey Mark you bonehead, don’t do it” but so far it’s been clear skies.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll get enough of a pay increase to afford that tattoo or maybe even a Harley. I could drive it to fencing class.

Welcome To Boston, Have A Coke

Once again I boarded Concord Trailways to make a journey to the Bean Town. This time I was going solo, just me and my city guy day pack. All the cool city kids wear them. I blended in so well that eventually a couple people would ask me directions. Oddly enough I knew the answer.

The weather was about as summer-y as one could hope for. The bus was comfortably air conditioned and the movie was that one with Jennifer Aniston and Kevin Costner. It’s the one where the dude (Costner) sleeps with three generations of women and supposedly was the real life Dustin Hoffman character in the Graduate.

I arrived at South Station in mid afternoon and decided instead of taking the subway right off I would walk to Boston Commons and pick up the Red Line at the Park street station. I figured the walk would take a while. I discovered that the scale of the map is different than what I’m used to in Maine. In Maine walking a half inch on the map would take a good part of the day. In Boston it takes about fifteen minutes.

I kept my eyes opened for the people giving out mints but they weren’t there. Just as I was thinking that there were no arrival gifts I rounded a corner and there was someone giving away new Coke Blak. Have an icy cold Coke they said. A block later I ran into the whole team all dressed in brown Coke shirts and loading up four wheeled bins with ice and Coke. They were having a team pep meeting before dispersing to give Coke to the masses. What a nice city.

I found a nice little pub with open windows, a cool breeze, a view of the passersby, and an incredible tomato basil mozzarella salad which I washed down with a fine cocktail. The place was nice and quiet and I sat reading my copy of Night Train. I felt like such a city guy. I was inches from pulling out my camera to take a picture of myself eating and reading, but I decided it would diminish my city guy persona.

This time my trip was not for sport, it was meant for me to get myself some culture. Yes that’s right, I was trying to expand my mind. I went to the Dire Series Barbeque and literary reading held at the Out Of The Blue Gallery. I’ve been to a Dire Series before but this was the annual barbeque complete with outdoor cooking and musical entertainment. Because of the heat and the large turnout the whole event was held in the back yard.

I was/am involved in this online writers group/workshop. It was there that I learned of the Dire Series. It was there that I met many of the people I saw at the barbeque and most of which are listed on my side bar. Tim, the host, Rusty, the editor of Night Train, and Sue the co founder of GUD. There was KenAndNadine (who have to always mentioned together) and Tomi came all the way from Kentucky. Even Doc Em came by. It’s a cool experience to get to know someone from just their writing and then finally get to put a live person to that, a real voice (Tomi’s was deeper than I expected). Everyone made me feel comfortable and welcomed. They're all wicked nice people.

I had a great time, I’m glad I made the trip. There were some good readings and I thought the music chick was cool. It was an interesting thing to have a reading outside, especially in a busy place as that. But it went fine I thought, I could hear just about everyone. There was one that I struggled to understand. Once or twice a siren went by. I thought of Steve Almond. No offense Steve but I remember the time you booted the kid out.

Traditionally the Dire after party is down the street at The Field. It’s a little Irish pub. I stopped in there before I arrived at the barbeque to have a quick drink and read a local paper. A lot of people hung out afterwards to help clean up and to talk and stuff. Some made their way down to The Field. Unfortunately it was getting after ten and I had to get back to south station before the last bus left town at eleven fifteen. I said my goodbyes and off I went.

Now it was night time and I was walking through the Big City all by myself. I went to the subway station and got on the train and then they only went one stop and said, “due to construction this is the last stop. To continue on you must get on the yellow shuttle bus and proceed to Park street.” I started thinking ‘oh great, now I’m going to get lost.’ But there were workers there to guide us all onto the correct bus. Again, how nice. It was on this bus that I was asked for directions. I knew the answer. Look at me, I’m city guy.

I got back to south station in plenty of time. The bus wasn’t crowded and the movie was the same as on the way down which was fine since I was tired. I rode home with my music player and the sounds of live Pink Floyd. I totally recommend the Dire Series to anyone who likes reading, writing, and art.

Saturday Blast From The Past

"Or like when you miss your mouth with your toothbrush and wipe toothpaste in your beard. The first thing you do is look around to find out if someone might have seen you. As if there's someone else in your bathroom. Heh. That's fucked up man." He chuckled.

I listened to this with a polite smile and a nod but I couldn't totally write him off as a stoner because I had a hazy memory of being late for work one morning due to an emergency face shampoo. Now that I think of it that was the same day that The Hot Waitress saw me shove the soda straw up my nose while I was looking at her breasts go by.

Only In Real Life

The sign read, “Lost, one year old tabby, Princess Fluffypuss.”

Princess Fluffypuss?!

Someone should mention that’s just cruelty to animals and the cat is never coming back.

Now the cat formerly known as Princess Fluffypuss hangs out at the dumpster in the alley. All the dumpster cats know her as Spike. If word ever got out they’d surely kick her ass and leave her behind the Chinese restaurant to end up as the next order of Kung Pow.

Saturday Blast From The Past

Nicotine stained fingers raised a cigarette towards wrinkled lips then paused while the wrinkled lips said, "Your old grand dad used to be a transvestite Timmy, right up until I saw that crazy doc cut off a kids big toe with a pair of linesman dykes, and that was it, I stopped right then and there. Seeing something like that changes a man Timmy."