Winds of Change

(photo by Steve Stone)

That nip in the air. Football on Sundays. Baseball fever as the remaining games all have playoff implications. Yes, summer is done and the crisp days of autumn are once again upon us.

With the change of seasons there is almost an equally tangible change at 1762. There seems to be a return to the laid back, low stress atmosphere here that first made a regular of me.

I saw a change in Pregnant Lily last night. She has really embraced her impending motherhood and looks forward to her new role as Mommy. I think that becoming a parent for the first time, especially becoming a mother, gives a sense of completeness and purpose. Of course there are fears of the unknown and worries about our own capabilities and adequacies, but ultimately we are left with a feeling of "Oh yeah. Now everything makes sense". Well wishes to you Lily. Parenthood ain't easy but I think you will be up to the task.

On the whole, I have to say that the summer here had a high-strung feel to it. At times the tension here was unbearable.

Sadly, much of the edginess was the product of what I suspected for some time. I have seen countless lives wasted, personalities altered, and opportunities squandered as the weak willed seek that increasingly elusive mother-of-all highs. Coke. Heroin. Must be some really potent shit. It turns honest men into liars who are eventually ensnared in their own webs of deceit and dishonesty.
They start to trip up by telling too many people too many different tales until we are left to wonder if they themselves even know what the truth is. Timmy says it best. "Be true to thine ownself". When you look in the mirror and you don't trust the guy looking back at you, a wake up call is in order. When you must weave grandiose tales of your mock accomplishments to somehow validate yourself and your existence, a reality check is in order. When you must condemn the acts of others to remove attention and suspicion from yourself you have a problem. A big one.

So, while I usually hate to see the summer go, I am looking forward to the crispness and freshness of fall as we shift gears.

May you all find inner peace.

"Voting with my feet"

Entered via back door. Great crowd present. Saw Candy, Reuben, Father L and Son R, Shelly behind the bar, the country music couple, Cowboy E and his gal, but mostly I was happy to see Timmy. Looked like he had a good load on.

AC still broke. Over 2 weeks now. The part to fix it is still sitting behind the bar. Fuck that. I exited via front door without saying hello to anyone.

My house is cool and I have some premium beer on ice. So fuck it. I'm drinking at home.

The Toenail Chronicles - Not for the Squeamish!

Stopped in a little after 9 last night to have a couple of cocktails. Heinies and shots of Cabo Wabo. Croc was working, but he didn't look quite right. Kinda pale and pasty. I thought maybe he was constipated.

Biker Bob was present and accounted for after a week-long hiatus. How did he stay away so long? Seems that he has been working hard [so he claims] on a really old building in a place with no parking. We chatted a bit, he ruined a couple of my games of Big Buck Hunter, and then he headed home. Early start today at work.

Timmy was there as well. Always a good night when Croc is working and me and Timmy are drinking. And breaking Croc's balls. And drinking. And playing some good old music circa 1950's-60's. Sam Cooke, Neil Sedaka, and Booby Darin all made appearances.

Anyhow, conversation turned to Croc, and his pasty white appearance. It turns out he was in pain from an ingrown toenail. Someone stepped on it earlier that day in the bar. Talk about bad luck.

So I'm breaking his balls. C'mon, show me. How bad can it be. On and on. Finally he gives in and takes off his sneaker. His white crew sock had a blood stain right through. Then he takes off the sock. I can see the toe is partially bandaged. But the part that isn't wrapped looks like a piece of raw steak. Like a kebob cube you would skewer and cook on the "Barbie".

Now we stop breaking balls. Looks bad, maybe infected. I tell him I know a foot doctor, family friend kinda thing and that I will take him to get the toe fixed, amputated, whatever, in the morning. All that blood, pain, and rawness wouldn't deter him from closing up shop early. Standing on that ribeye of a toe had to hurt. But he wouldn't close up.

If it was me, with my civil servant mentality, I'd have called in sick, never mind stand on it all friggin' night.

I just got a text from him a couple of minutes ago...It read "Did toe. Bloody hurt." Crazy Australian.