by john | Jan 11, 2010 | Real Life, Travel
and Jebus it’s cold! By now the temp is finally above freezing, and the pipes in our office have finally thawed, after being frozen solid all weekend. It’s funny that I spent my weekend 300 miles north of here, and it was warmer in NC than down here in Georgia. Weather’s funny that way, I guess.
This weekend saw the latest episode of 30-something Sales Goofs try to Drink Like College Kids, which is never an attractive show, and leads to random people in the wrong gender restroom and a very baffled hotel front desk the next day. It was a work event, and after we all worked all day we went to the restaurant in the hotel for dinner. Without reservations. In Winston-Salem, NC. In January. To say the restaurant staff was a little overwhelmed would be an exercise in understatement. To say that the smoke emanating from the kitchen was more reminiscent of a July 4th barbeque than anything resembling fine dining would be fairly accurate. To deliver six complimentary bottles of wine as an apology for six completely screwed up steaks is a pretty good trade, especially when none of the screwed-up steaks was mine. To close down the bar at 10PM, however, was completely unfortunate.
So since we knew the bar was going to close early, we ordered a bunch of rounds of shots right before last call. So that was painful enough, but we weren’t tired enough to do the reasonable thing and go to bed for our 10AM exhibition the next day. So I, in my incredibly poor judgement, went to the hotel lobby and bought some beer. Or more to the point, bought a dozen beers. And sent more people in after me to clean out the fridge. Not a big deal, since there were still a bunch of us, and only about two beers apiece at that point. On top of all the shots. Which came on top of the wine we drank at dinner. Which of course was preceded by a few cocktails before dinner. But I think if we’d only emptied the fridge the one time, we woulda been okay.
How’s that for foreshadowing? If we’d only emptied the fridge the one time…? Right there I tell you that we did indeed return to the fridge for more beer, and did indeed empty the fridge again, and this time since our number had dwindled, the one of our number that went for the beer was smart enough to leave it outside the door to the lobby so it would stay cold. Frankly it was probably chilling faster outside than it was in the fridge, given the relative temperatures of both last weekend. So none of us had our keychain bottle openers with us, and there was only one cigarette lighter to use as an opener, so the practice of opening beers on the brick steps was put into play. That of course led to a text message the next morning saying “I cut my tongue on a beer bottle last night?” To which I responded with a “yes,” and no further explanation.
So we drank all that beer, and then the restock beer, and then it was 4:30 AM, and we were truly not looking forward to being at the show by 10AM the next morning. But the rule is, you have to answer the bell. You can do whatever stupid shit you want at night, as long as you can answer the bell the next morning. And when I reached checkout the next morning right about on time, I looked over at one of my obviously worse-for-wear compatriots from the night before, and said “Welcome to the team.”
by john | Jan 11, 2010 | Writing
So Saturday afternoon I left our work event in Winston-Salem to attend a poetry workshop at the Main Street Rag offices outside Charlotte. Most of my hangover faded by the time the workshop kicked off, and I got some pretty valuable information out of it. It was essentially two workshops, the first half dealing with revising and polishing your work before submitting, and the second half dealt with how to select literary journals and places to submit your work.
I found the second half of the workshop really valuable for the information I gathered, because I’m very new to the whole submission process and have no idea how simultaneous submissions work, or things like that. So that was good as a learning experience, but I got a lot more out of the first half. Mostly because it woke up a part of my brain that I haven’t used in years, that piece that takes apart a poem and puts it back together stronger. There’s a certain analytical bent to revising your work that has been pretty dormant in me since I got back to creative writing, and I think it will make my work stronger, not just in my poetry but my short stories as well.
This whole “be a writer” kick is an interesting ride, and I need to make sure that I refine my technique and acquire all the skils that I can to augment whatever minimum of talent that I might have started with. Because talent isn’t enough, and there’s no real judge of whether or not I have any. But if I polish my technique as much as I can, I can create good work, and with the right information behind me, I can get some stuff published and maybe the next time I publish a book, it won’t be on my own nickel. And maybe, just maybe, sometime I can make a few pennies doing this.
by john | Jan 8, 2010 | Real Life
That’s not an untrue method of describing much of what gets posted here, although perhaps the use of “verbal” would be inaccurate. I tend to just sit at my keyboard and spew, without too much thought of the consequences, which frankly has been a pattern of my life – not thinking too much about the consequences.
But today I was taken somewhat to task for some things that I’ve revealed here on the blog about things in my life and some of the lives of people around me. I suppose I had forgotten that more people have access to what is written here than just my blogger friends, because I tend to post a Twitter update whenever I update here. And that updates my Facebook, which some 800+ people have access to. So there might be information out there that could come around and hurt or embarrass some folks that I don’t want to hurt in any way. So I responded with the fact that you can’t really unring a bell, and if people have read things here that may embarrass other people, I can’t do anything about that now.
Then I started to think about what I should have done differently. Should I reveal less about myself here? Should I talk less about what’s going on in my life? Should I try to think about how what I say is going to affect anyone that might read anything I ever write before I write it? And if I do that, will I fall into a heinous case of analysis paralysis and never get anything written?
Finally, I think I’ve decided to apply the very few hard and fast rules in my life to my writing here. I’ve lived by this set of rules for a long time, and it’s done me well.
1) Don’t do anything you really don’t want to do. I don’t mean like getting up in the morning and going to work, I mean like things that you really think are wrong or bad or terribly unpleasant.
2) Don’t do anything to intentionally hurt anyone else. It may be impossible to avoid hurting people in life, but as long as you don’t intentionally harm anyone, you can apologize and move along. They don’t have to accept your apology, but you’ll have done your part.
Following those two typically leads to the third pretty easily.
3) Regret nothing. Everything you go through in life gives you something, good or bad. Take it, revel in it, and work with it. Maybe it’s something that sucks, but you can use it. I can honestly count on one hand the things I truly regret in my life, and I’m very happy about that. I think too many people go through their life saddled with too much regret, and that’s left them baggage that gets in the way of living. Here are the regrets that I can think of (this isn’t to say that these are the only things in my life that I shouldn’t have done, but these are the things that I actually feel bad about).
I regret never going to see my grandmother in the old folks’ home before she died. Even though she suffered from dementia and probably wouldn’t have known it was me, just knowing that someone cared a little bit would have brightened her day, and since I drove past the home where she was every time I visited my parents after she was put there, I have no excuse for never stopping. It wouldn’t have meant much to her, but I wouldn’t have that guilt.
I regret the way in which I broke up with my high school sweetheart. I was seeing a couple of other girls when Suzy and I met. Obviously I don’t regret THAT I broke up with her, because I love being married to my wife and can’t imagine spending this many years (not to mention the ones in front of us) with anyone else. But I broke up with her via a long-distance telephone call because I had misunderstood a telephone message from her that she was coming home for a visit that weekend. Had I heard her correctly, I could have broken up with her in person, and that would have been the kinder thing to do. We were a huge part of each other’s lives for five years, and I owed her a face-to-face ending.
I regret not going on the study abroad program in China that I applied to my sophomore year of college. It was one of the very few big opportunities I’ve ever let slip away, and I may never again have the chance to immerse myself in another culture to that degree. I think I’ve taken pretty good advantage of most of the opportunities I’ve been given, and made a few extra for myself besides, but that one I’d like to have another shot at.
Those are honestly the biggies. Of course there are people I wish I’d been nicer to, like my oldest niece when we were kids, but frankly, we’re pretty good friends now, so it worked out okay and I don’t really care that we despised each other for our entire childhood. It gives us something to crack jokes about at family gatherings now. There are a few other things I wish I’d tried, and sometimes I wish I’d toughed out grad school, or tried to stay in school and get a Master’s in English, but those are things I can still do if they become important. I wish I’d met my mother-in-law, because I think my wife is pretty amazing and I’d like to have had the chance to know the woman that she came from, but the fact of the matter is that I never would have met my wife if her mom hadn’t died and left her some cash to go back to college with, so our marriage really is the silver lining out of that huge cloud.
So I’m not going to self-censor any more than I already do. And anyone who doesn’t like what I write doesn’t have to read it. And anyone who thinks I’m oversharing doesn’t have to read it. Because it’s got my name at the top of the page, and this is my corner of the world to spew with as I please. You’re welcome to share my life. I wouldn’t have invited you otherwise. But I get to decide what’s too much and what’s not enough and what’s just right. And that’s just the deal. Now I gotta go try to get a little bit of writing in before I clean up a Powerpoint presentation for tomorrow.
by john | Jan 7, 2010 | Real Life
I promise to discuss my penis and its activites less today, but rather to move upstream, as it were. Today’s topic – the bladder.
I travel a lot. Not as much as some of my jet-setting poker writing friends, but enough nonetheless that my Marriott Rewards Platinum status is secure for all of 2010 (and was halfway through 2009). And one thing I’ve noticed in my travels, is that I have a fairly well-trained bladder for travel. I can be in an airplane or car for hours on end and never have to pee, which makes it convenient. This also means that whenever I get where I’m going, I usually have to pee like a racehorse. I don’t mind that too much, because the release of a gigantic piss after holding it for hours at a time is nigh-orgasmic, and any time I can insert a little more nigh-orgasmic into my day, I’m all for it. Frankly, any time I can insert the phrase nigh-anything into a sentence, I’m all for it. It sometimes makes me want patches on my elbows and a pipe, but I can live with that.
But sometimes, especially when I’m heading home or to the office, my superpowered bladder begins to fail when I’m just close enough to not want to stop, but far enough away (read: more than 3′) from a toilet to make relieving myself impossible or at least impractical. It’s almost like my bladder has a mind of its own, and when it senses that I’m close to my final destination of the evening, it just slides into relaxation mode, and is ready to let it all hang out. Literally. Right f’n now. This has led to more than one instance of stopping at a gas station or fast food restaurant one exit away from my hotel to take a leak, and more instances than I can count of doing the peepee dance while holding a suitcase, backpack and three days worth of dress shirts while waiting on an elevator.
This is even less attractive in real life than it is in your imagination, trust me. Probably no post tomorrow, as I have a work thing in Winston-Salem that will take all day. Then Saturday I’m going to a poetry workshop at the Main Street Rag offices, then Suzy and I are going to see Avatar in 3-D Imax Saturday night. That’s one movie that really makes me wish I still did hallucinogens to get the full experience, but the Imax 3-D might be the closest thing.
by john | Jan 6, 2010 | Penis Exploits, Writing
Since posting that I wanted to churn out at least one poem each week I’ve found myself bursting with stuff to write about, and have cranked out several poems this week. I posted one, “Aftermath” below and have received some good feedback on it. If you haven’t read it, scroll down and let me know what you think. I’m trying to do what I did when I wrote Choices, force myself into at least half an hour each night of focused writing time. I can usually squeeze that in, and that’s about the minimum that I can do and get away with anything useful out of it. I’ve also started to actually make use of the journal I bought at the ArtsMarket in December, which is cool because I’m awful about buying myself cool little notebooks and never doing anything with them.
Case in point: I bought a badass little notebook from Re:Paper and have yet to do anything with it. I was thinking that I might fill it with finished poems and see if anybody wanted to buy a handwritten book of poetry in a handmade book, but that would take a long time to do and I’d probably have to charge some exorbitant amount of money for it, and then I’d be sad if nobody bought it and appreciated the one-of-a-kindedness of it, not to mention I’d have another thing lying around the house useless, so maybe I’ll just do it as a gift. If I can think of anyone to give it to. Or maybe a raffle or prize or something. I dunno. But Sarah at Re:Paper makes some cool stuff, so if you like neat things you should check her out. But pay attention to the details, because the books are small, which I didn’t really pay attention to so when I got it I was all like “wow, that’s small.” But then I looked back at the description and I was all like “yeah, that’s what size she said it was going to be.” And then I got into the standard guy joke of “that’s why women are bad at math, because we’ve been telling them ________________________________ is eight inches.” Which explains a lot really, but let’s not go there because nobody really wants to read about my penis, or its exploits, which frankly, as a married dude, are appropriately non-varied. It kinda only goes a few places, and most of them are my pants.
I’m not sure how we got on a discussion of the exploits of my penis, but we apologize and neither I nor my penis want that to ever happen again.
So there we are, and in the immortal words of Parker Posey, “Scene.”
