so the new jetta needs a name, see? preferably before the new year begins. so i need your help. post your suggestions, or vote for names already posted and we'll pick a winner on new year's day.

drivers wanted

wednesday, december 26th
i arrived at love field an hour and a half before my flight, per billy's suggestion, and wandered past automatic rifle-wielding marines to gate 4C. no one prodded my tennis shoes to see if they were made out of plastique. i would have been quite surprised had they been discovered as such. seems like running on C4 explosive would be a bad idea.

i was told that i would have to wait thirty minutes to check in. the two flights to hobby scheduled to leave before mine were delayed. no one was surprised. i checked in at 8:00, first in line. southwest airlines hands out little boarding placards with numbers indicating your boarding group. i always seem to end up with something in the seventies. not today, though. i'm first in line, dammit.

"we have room on the 8:00 flight which is leaving in about 45 minutes."

i glance down at the short pile of grey plastic cards. number 72. my eyes shift to the tall pile of orange cards. number 1.

"no, i'll wait, thanks."

for the first time ever, i'm number 1. it feels good to be number one; but it's weird. you don't want to flaunt your numero uno card. everyone always looks at the guy carrying the 1 card and thinks, "that asshole probably got here two hours early just so he could get the first card." i admit, i was jonesin' for that card. but i hid my wealth. i tucked it away in the front pocket of my carry-on and sauntered off to buy some skittles.

thursday, december 27th
i spent the majority of my time in houston visiting car dealerships. going through the same bullshit at each place. "how much is this car?" "well, how much do you want to pay?" it was frustrating.

melanie was this sweet, pretty saleperson at west houston volkswagen. as my dad said, she was "built like a brick shithouse," a simile more suited to distant times, but accurate none-the-less. i really wanted to buy a car from melanie. i wanted to buy a couple of cars from melanie. she must sell a lot of cars. i couldn't bear to break her heart. she was just too sweet. but then joe came in and ruined the fantasy. he stunk of brut and i couldn't draw my eyes away from the teeth jutting out of his mouth in a dozen different directions. he talked fast. and he never answered your question, he would just change the topic. i just wanted to talk to melanie again. where the hell did she go? is she seeing another customer?

the harp
since my family likes to turn in early, i decided to go see alison at work and say hi. the place was empty when i pulled up and i began to worry that i was in the wrong place. i verified that alison was indeed an employee there, but that she was not working that night.
alison called me moments later and invited me to meet her and shaun at the harp. as alison noted, i was very quiet and mellow that night. but between the on-again off-again spitting rain and several black russians, i was able to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the smiths with hanh and listen to shaun do impressions of all the germanic and romance dialects of europe. he's quite good.

friday, december 28th
more of the same. car dealers, half-truths, and too-good-to-be-trues.

i missed my flight back to dallas. but i made it back safely with my new friend. she doesn't have a name yet, so feel free to give me nominations.

hey. i'm in houston visiting the family. where are you?

merry christmas, you.

this is pretty clever.

and fun.

fun-ny.

courtesy of my good friend james.

i walk into the cold wind, my arms wrapped tight around my torso, viewing the dismembered bodies and wreckage all around me. the smell of gas, oil, and decay fills the air. piles of twisted metal and plastic direct me along my path. i have to walk all the way to the back. she's there along the fence.





when we first met, i was the happiest i had ever been. i had decided to make a huge commitment, one i had never attempted before. i was a little unsure of myself, but i knew that it would work out between us. and she... she didn't want to be with anyone else.

she met my mom that first night we were together. we went together to pick mom up at the bus station in austin and drive her out to the ranch. mom was so proud of me, she felt that i had made a good choice, and i think she too fell in love with her. i spent some money on her right away, giving her a nice cd player.

she was great. always there when i needed her. she helped me move about 10 different times. i was always moving. she'd haul stuff around for me and never complained.

i remember the first time she got hurt. it was during a sudden and violent storm. i couldn't protect her and she was bruised. it was hard to see her hurt so. she would get banged up several more times while we were together. each time, it got a little easier to accept that she was no longer perfect.

we went through tough times together too. i couldn't always afford to feed her the best stuff. but i always made sure to give her the most expensive i could find every now and again, just to make sure she knew i still cared about her.

she's been all over the state with me. i think she really loved the ranch the most.

but today, i went to say goodbye. she's there... along the fence. like all the others that surround her. i had come to pay my last respects; to take whatever i could from her that she wouldn't need from here on out. her mangled skin reminded me of her death one week prior. pieces had been removed to inspect the damage to her skeleton. her seats, once bolted to her frame with pride, now were piled in a heap in the back, where she carried my belongings all those times. her fender sat inside where the rear seat used to lay. bolts, washers, nuts, and spacers are now collected in a zip-lock bag, just in case she should be resurrected from this hell.

the hardest part now is the guilt. guilt knowing that part of me wanted her to die. i never said it to her, but i thought about it. even at the end, i thought it was what i really wanted. now...

now i miss her. i miss what she meant to me. she was my first. i spent five years laboring to make her all mine. five years on a dowry to obtain a small piece of blue paper stating my rightful ownership. but that is all gone now. she's no longer with me.

so long, dear one. you will be replaced, but never forgotten. i loved you dearly.

mark

brief update: i have accepted the new job (i think).

more tonight....

cue echo: "you'll have to decide...you'll have to decide...you'll have to decide."

back when i started, i saw it as a terrible compromise to my skills and abilities. me? work retail? how demeaning.

now, three months later, i look at an offer for twice as much money, better benefits, and better job security and advancement potential, and i balk.

why?

i didn't make up my mind today, like i said i would. i waited until the end of the day and then left him a voicemail. i didn't lead on to my decision, because i hadn't made one. i just stated that i would try and reach him later. there has been so much happening with car insurance and doctors, and i just haven't had clarity to sit and think about it all in the big picture.

it would be ridiculous to pass up more money. even if i fear the job will be dull. even if i feel like i won't relate to my cow-orkers. even though i'm fairly certain that i will be unhappy there and will be doing unchallenging work. and i'll be starting at the bottom of the pole again. a temp.

but it's state benefits, man. full medical and dental. teacher retirement fund. government holidays. and, it's not what i was making last year, but it is twice as much as what i'm getting now. twice as much.

see?

i go back and forth. back and forth. back.
and forth.

so the wepconian leaders told me that they don't want me to leave. they want to make me one of them. they can pay me more, but not much more. i am respected there. i am accepted as knowledgeable and hardworking. hey, they'd give me a key to wepcoland.

and what if that design job is just around the corner? perhaps it'll all turn around here in the next month or so.

what if it doesn't?

dave: "what are you doing?"

jeremy: "i'm trying to open these oreos without destroying the bag and having them fly everywhere."

me: "you know, oreos have been around for 90 years, and they still haven't designed a package that's easy to open."

paul: "yep. america's favorite cookie, but america's worst packaging."

me: "hmm. that sounds like the sub-title to a movie about my life. 'america's favorite cookie, america's worst package.'

gee... if i had known it was this easy, i'd have put myself on auction a long time ago. unfortunately for her, the bidding hit 10 million pounds and the auction was annulled by ebay.

oh well. it's worth a shot.

shall we start the bidding at $50,000?

twisted frame

moments before, you'll see it. they are traveling toward you, going fast.

"surely they'll stop. if they don't stop, it's their fault."

in most cases, you won't freak out. they are going to stop. they don't want to hit you any more than you want to be hit by them. you don't brace. you don't react.

but now they're getting too close. they haven't slowed. the time for you to react and avoid has passed. now you tense up. you hit the brakes, hoping for more time and more room. the streets are wet and slick. the brakes do their job. the tires do their job.

physics does its job.

contact.

at the first moment of the impact, your body is thrown a new direction. sort of sideways and forward. metal on metal grinds two massive pieces of machinery to a sudden, drawn-out halt. you wait for the glass to come at you; for the plastic, cloth and wires to slap the side of your face. you've already created a mental picture of yourself standing outside looking at the damage.

'remain calm. you're o.k.... you need to call the police.... you need to check on the other car.... you need to see the damage.

"are you guys o.k.?"

fused sheets of metal create a new shape, one you are not used to seeing. it's as if this other vehicle has simply grown out of the side of your car. it's difficult to tell where your veridian green ends and his metallic silver begins.

"i need to report a collision at the intersection of live oak and good latimer."

"was anyone injured?"

"no ma'am, everyone seems to be allright."

"are both vehicles drivable?"

"i can't tell. it's just happened. i think so."

"you need to move the vehicles to the side of the road and exchange information."

"can we get a police car on the scene?"

"if no one is hurt and both vehicles are drivable, you just need to exchange insurance information and then tomorrow go to your local precinct and file a report there."

well that sucks. what if this guy starts being a dick, or tries to flee the scene?

"see if you can drive your car over to the curb there."

his car starts. metal pops, squeals, and scrapes. pieces of plastic and styrofoam break away and fall to the asphalt. i start my car and drive it to the side of the road. hmm. doesn't seem to bad.

"are you willing to admit that you ran a red light?"

"yeah, man, i'm sorry. it was my fault. are you sure you're o.k.?"



an ambulance arrives less than a minute later. "is everyone allright?"

"yes, it appears so. thank you for stopping."

a fire truck is right behind. "everbody o.k.?"

"yes, thank you." they both drive off.

now... one... two... three cruisers arrive on scene.

he's maybe 23 or 24 years old. he's shaken up. his passenger is less than fully coherent. "...are you sure? i can smell alcohol on your breath. do you want to change your answer now? it'll be much easier that way."




"o.k., sir, he's admitted to running a red light and causing the accident. i can smell alcohol on their breath, so it's possible that this was a cause. here is information with your case number. give this case number to your insurance agent. it will have all of his information, including his admission of liability. at this point, unless you have any more questions, you're free to go."

driving away, i notice that things aren't as fine as i believed. the car is driving funny. the steering wheel is turned all the way to the left in order to keep my car traveling in a straight line. i pull off the highway. i notice the bulge in the floorboard of the passenger side. damn... twisted frame.



i'm o.k. folks. my back is aching a bit and i'll probably be fairly sore in the morning. but no one was seriously injured. the small infinity was probably traveling over 50mph when he plowed into the side of my truck. it caused extensive damage to the frame and a fair amount of cosmetic damage to the entire passenger side of my car. the passenger door is opened at the top, which should allow a fair amount of the drizzling rain to pour in over night. the front axel appears to be bent and as i said, the car will not drive straight. the young man that was driving was quite apologetic, and remained calm and polite. it is quite possible that he went home this evening with a dwi, and a ticket for running a red light and causing an accident. at best. i don't feel sorry for him, however. i'm glad that no one was injured. and i remained centered and collected through the entire ordeal. but now i'm pissed as hell. i don't want to have to deal with the insurance companies. i don't want to have to worry with getting a tow truck tomorrow. i don't want to have to worry with a rental car. it sucks. it's inconvenient. it's less than two weeks before christmas. my car will most likely be totaled by the insurance company.
i was extremely fortunate. we had just left sons of hermann and josh was right behind me and andy and amber were right behind him. i had my two best friends there to support and help me out. i managed to call josh on the cell phone after we had left and had him pull over with me and he gave me a ride home. my car is sitting in the parking lot of the store where i work. tomorrow, i will decide on it's final resting place. so long... we had a great five and a half years together, and you were all mine.

that was for me.

jab jab

what wasn't good for one is good enough for two

bound bound

quick in the thick to forgive and forget

like ikea?

for all you euro-furniture nuts... ikea now has a wish list on their web site. go get'em kids!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDY!!!!

dfw bloggers bowling xtravaganza

check out my ever-so-cool new bowling pics! everybody!

i really hate letting people down. i will go to great lengths to make sure i make good on a commitment. when i fail, i become my biggest enemy. self-imposed guilt will ruin me.

what's worse is hurting someone. not only are they disappointed in you, but trust is damaged and you've made another person sad. again, i will go to great lengths to avoid hurting anyone.

sometimes, however, you are faced with situations where you have to be honest with yourself and do something that is going to hurt for a while. sometimes it's just best for both people that you endure a little pain.

heartache is the worst kind of pain.

i wish i hadn't caused it...



...but i did.

dr. ralph stanley and his clinch mountain boys

about a year-and-a-half ago, i saw the first trailer for the cohen brothers' film o, brother where art thou?. the song that played on the trailer, man of constant sorrow, instantly made me want to see the movie. i love bluegrass music. there is something very pure about the way it is played. every year my parents have a get-together at their ranch and most times there are several good bluegrass musicians that show up. we sit around the campfire and play tons of traditional bluegrass songs all night.

i purchased the soundtrack for o, brother a couple of months before the film was release in the u.s. it almost immediately became my favorite soundtrack, and i hadn't even seen the movie yet.

it wasn't until after i had seen the movie a couple of times that i learned that many of the songs featured in the movie where written by ralph stanley. i had heard of the stanley brothers when i played with folks at the ranch, but i hadn't really realized their impact on bluegrass until i saw the documentary down from the mountain.

the opportunity to see a living legend play music was one i was not going to pass up. with dr. stanley's absence of superstardom status in mainstream music, it was difficult to convince others that this was a show of a lifetime. but andy jumped at the chance and brought amber along as well.

while eleven hundred springs played the opening act, i wandered back into the ballroom and found that dr. ralph stanley and all of the clinch mountain boys were hanging out in the ballroom with their self-proclaimed "flea-market" of cds, hats, t-shirts, bumperstickers, and commemorative knife sets. the cd's were overpriced at $20 a piece and pretty much everything else followed suit. but there was dr. ralph stanley, sitting in a chair behind the folding table signing cds, hats, t-shirts, bumperstickers, and commemorative knife sets.

"dr. stanley, do you mind if i have a picture taken with you?"

"mm"

he's staring at amber as i squat down beside him and smile towards andy and the digital camera. amber moves in close to andy so that ralph's eyes are almost looking at the camera, and click!

we return to the tea room for the last few songs of eleven hundred springs and then, snaking our way toward the front of the room, wait another 30 minutes for the boys to take the stage.

with seven people and thirteen mics on a very small stage, something was bound to go wrong. seconds into the first song, a short in one of the mic cables blows the p.a. system. several minutes later, the cables are swapped out, the music starts again, and another cable goes out. this occurs no less than four times before some balance is achieved. but it will take another four songs before levels are where they should be and everyone, with the exception of the fiddle player, is happy.

every musician on the stage is one of the best players in the country on their particular instrument. in typical bluegrass fashion, they take turns in the spotlight trading leads. ralph's turn has him playing "man of constant sorrow," which he wrote with his brother, carter, over forty years ago. after several rounds, dr. stanley puts down his banjo and pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket. quipping about failing memory, he glances at the paper, asks for a "g," and begins singing "o, death." he actually sings this song in the movie during the klan scene.

the music kept getting better and better as the night went on. eventually, dr. stanley left the stage; but not before mentioning that the banjo he had played that night was for sale. he did not happen to say at what price.

one by one, the clinch mountain boys would dissappear from the stage until their were three of them left. they played out a couple of traditional gospel favorites and then they too parted.

it was an unforgettable evening of top knotch bluegrass and i'm sorry that most of you were not able to go. but i did take pictures!

thanks for the role call...

y'all.

hello?

is anybody there?

she raises both arms through the open sunroof, the chilled november air separating her fingers. the song seems faster than she remembers. or perhaps the tempo has slowed.

her thoughts are captured in a single moment, as if frozen by the movement of the wind on her small hands. the contrast of the heat blasting from the dashboard vents onto her chest enhances the surreality of the situation. she gazes up into the night. the crescendo, pulse, and decrescendo of street lamps enhance the rhythm of music within.

he drives without knowing. the song is not unique, the conditioned warmth is expected. there is no fascination with the movement of light above. it is the same highway, the same streetlamps, and the same exit as always.

the weight of her body shifts into a curve as momentum pushes her to one side and then back again. her muscles flex in concert to maintain balance and she is aware of every one.

she chokes on the feeling of lonliness, the lack of connection with him. the cold breeze pulls her out and away from the car, where she wants to be. the heat on her breast keeps her in place.

the music swells. she takes a deep breath and sighs.

he drives without knowing.