Craigslist with the Best of em...

I was reading some of my blogs and everyone was talking about things they are good at... and I started thinking about myself - selfish, I know.  But... I came up with one thing that I'm rather proud at being good at - that being Craigslisting.  And yes, it isn't just a proper noun anymore.  I think it's gotten to the ebay-ish status where it can be turned anywhich way you like it.  Regardless, this is what I'm good at...

First off, there's free stuff on Craigslist - did you know?  And not crappy stuff, good stuff!  Secondly, people will buy anything.  About 5 months ago, I bought kitchen cabinets on Craigstlist for $190 bucks, and I sold them last week for $250... granted it was going to be for $300 but they were with a church, and she was saying, "lord help us," and, "oh sweet Jesus."  I couldn't resisit... I told her I'd go $250 and she was like, "Heaven praises! there is a God!"  It was worth it...  One of my better C-List experiences (PS - thats short for Craigstlist).  Another favorite of mine was at Christmas.  A few of my friends were going to spend time with some less fortunate kids, and I happened to get a few bags of ornaments and decorations from a lady and she was upset because they were her grandmother's and she was going to give them away for free.  But after we started talking and I told her what I was using them for, she gave me the biggest hug ever... I must say, at first, ackward, but after I returned the hug, it was pretty sweet... if I were less of a man, I may have choked up.  Regardless Craigslist isn't for the faint of heart, but I think I've done pretty well in my 2 years of continued service.  My best haul was with Lowell Turner - nicest man on the Earth!  Lowell's son used to own a used book store and when it went under he moved all the books into Lowell's house... Now Lowell was on the up and up and was ready to move out, so the books had to go... he posted on C-List and I tried to get ahold of him for 3 days.  Being upwards of 80 and serving in a few wars doesn't make you the most savvy on the Internet... but my persistence paid off, with a few book cases full of classics.  My friend made the about the same haul as I did... not to mention we spent about an hour just chatting with Lowell and asking him about some of the things he had in his house.  It was an awfully rewarding experience...

I'll tell you... I've got some new things in my house that are nice, and people ask about them... I can say - "oh, I got that at Target, or I picked that up from Pier One."  But I really enjoy being able to say, "I bought that painting from the daughter of an Art Professor at Wash U," or that, "I got that from Lowell Turner, one of the nicest old men I've ever met."  I really treasure the things in my house that have a story along with them, and I think that's the main reason I love Craigslist so much.  Its not just a purchase, its not just a deal, its almost an adventure every time... and I do enjoy a good story, or a great adventure... Thanks Craigslist, how bout a few more!

One too many aliens

    So, this past two days, I've had an inner monologue discussion about alien lifeforms; all the usual debates one would have.  Firstly, the last time I had even thought about aliens... months ago, maybe the last time I... wait, I saw Men in Black on Spike TV about a month and a half ago.  So, theres a month and a half...



    Alright - now begins my story.  Yesterday, I'm as calm as can be at my desk, and I went to google something for work.  And what do I read, but a story reporting that 'British astrophysicist Stephen Hawking warns intelligent alien life-forms would almost certainly be dangerous to humanity.'  The report goes on to say 'Hawkins is near certain such life forms exist, but warns that trying to communicate with them is "too risky."'  I know what you are thinking... yikes right?!  Well, like any fantastical mind, mine dwelt on it the entire day... and in doing so, I remembered that I inadvertently recorded Roswell because we got Showtime free for a month... I'm weirded out already!  I continue my debate in my head, should we extend the space program, or just limit their outer limit communication funding...  I digress... So, my mind is a flurry.  I rush home early because I am going to go to the Cardinal game... open the door, and there is a half-dead alien paused on the screen... I'm like, what the hell!  Matt, my roommate, is watching Roswell... deep breaths...

    So, we start talking, I bring up Stephen Hawkins article, matt starts telling me how he was talking about how it was brought up in one of his classes... we both agree something fishy is going on...  All the while, the movie goes to where the alien warns that more alien species and kinds are coming!  So weird at this point... we decided that Jon, other roommate, is an alien.  Case closed, right?  So I thought!?  I'm at the cardinals game, and I'm watching Albert Pujols at bat, and Freaking A, I'm bugged out by an airplane I thought was an alien spaceship.  I'm on edge people... Game over, at the bar, I'm being hit on by a 40 year old, probably 48... kinda looks like an alien... I'm laughing about it; things are better, I've reached my beer limit, heading home...

    Lucky for me I listen to talk radio, something to keep my mind off aliens... well... Coast to Coast with George Norris comes on and Blamo! they're talking about aliens... I am engrossed with the conversation... while my eyes are on the sky... more about how 'Hawking argues that the arrival of extraterrestrial life forms would be analogous to Columbus landing in the Americas, which, Hawking notes, "didn't turn out out very well for the Native Americans."'  What the hell!?  So, I'm a buzz... and then they have a guest on, that cools me down... He basically says that Hawkings statements deny the fact that aliens haven't ever been to Earth, which is aburd (I agree) and if they wanted to harvest our brains and kill us off like Native Americans they'dve already done it if they have the technology to reach earth... he goes on with tons of great things to say... and I pull into the drive convinced that the aliens are not going to harvest my brain... I'm going to take all this alien talk in stride, but I'll still keep my eyes to the sky, just like they did in Fire in the Sky. PS: someone gets an anal probe in that movie... 

New thing - Fandom Conventions

So, I’ve decided to fill some of my busier weeks with the 10 minute ramblings and chatterings that so many of my friends do. I was hoping to write a story a week; however I am not as good at juggling a consistent blog as I thought. Consistency isn’t exactly something I strive for in my life anyway… So, I am sitting in my cube taking a break from work and I’m listening to Pottercast which is a podcast that is put on by Harry Potter fans. It is actually one of the longest running podcasts listed, and I’ve been catching up lately on some of the podcasts I missed… But they just started talking about leakycon2011 and I am thinking about going. Universal Studios is close to opening the Harry Potter Theme Park in Orlando and they have a huge fandom party every year or two and they decided to host it at the theme park. I’ve wanted to go to a leakycon for awhile now, but due to the fact that it is going to be at the theme park, it is a pretty awesome and incredible combination… And I’ve got a year to plan… So, I’m going to attempt to get about 20-30 people to go down together and attend this thing… I mean, it’d be a ton of fun.


Alright – on the topic of fandoms… there is a Animecon in St. Louis this weekend and I’m thinking of attending, the only reason I wouldn’t go is because it costs like 35 bucks… and the main reason I would go, is that they have a rave on Saturday night. I’ve never been to a rave, but I’ve seen them on TV and they look pretty awesome… no drugs for me though… Anyway, I’m out… back to work!

Running With Scissors

    Gripping the summer air in my palms, I visualized my flight down the sullied dirt path blistered with dead leaves and boney tree roots. I could see myself slipping through the drained and dried creek, downhill toward the edge of the woods. Continuing the race in my mind, I sprang from the end of the tree line, dashing through the grassy back yard, and then onto the third step of the back-porch staircase... my podium... my finale. I was ready for this race. I had been anticipated it all morning; heck… I suggested it. Another chance to defeat my elder brothers at a game or race was seconds from beginning – I was about to explode. As my imagination soared back into my opening eyes, I swallowed two deep breaths. I dropped my head as my rivals drew quite. Tense air floated between the twisted vines that choked the tree limbs above my head and beneath the woodland canopy. Leaves swayed anxiously in waiting.

    Dirt spit from the souls of my ripped sneakers as I screwed my foot into the dusty surface. Silence rang… then a restless proverbial voice awoke the beginning of the count, "READY!" - I detonated to the left from my stronghold alongside a bare tree trunk. As the youngest of the boys, I had no need to hear the words, ‘set,’ or ‘go for that matter. My loyalty lies within my own victory. Shadows of sprinters exploded behind me in every direction, screaming what I’m sure were obscenities – I could only laugh as their paths were a mere gaffe compared to my route of unrivaled perfection. An engine screamed to my back and I stole a look from over my shoulder to spot both my elder brothers; one ripping down the leveled pathway on the dirt caked three-wheeler; and mind-numbingly, the other pacing hot on my tail. My speech was flooded with curses at the thought of my brother thieving my course, my unrivaled route. I pulsed on, and spat into the air in hopes of it hitting his face. As my bastard red-headed brother caught up to my side, I mustered all of the grit left on my teeth and raced on through the dried creek bed. Gripping onto a tree limb, I ramped over the embankment with ease. I could hear my brother struggling and sinking into the disappearing edge of falling rock along the creek. I smiled with insanity and I reestablished my lead. The clearing toward the finish was just beyond the shadow of evergreens bent in a line along the woods. My brother’s yelling, sounding further in distance every second, only made me run faster. Yearning to rub in my inevitable victory, I turned my face toward my back, tongue extended with a mockery of unabashed loathing that sent me into darkness…
    Shaken into consciousness, I began to feel my body strewn about on a pillow of tree roots and itchy ground. My brother’s screams from above my body were painstakingly loud. I cringed. Lights came into focus, and my brother’s countenance was hazy, at best. Somewhere, I could make out the sounds of celebrating… and slow enough; the reality of defeat sank in. I searched for reason and blame, until abruptly, pain entered into my arousing body… Awakened with fear, I came to realize my breath, too, was knocked from my lungs. All of my realized agony was relayed in gasps and howls for breath. As I gained a few breaths and an ounce of composure, I met my brother’s questioning eyes… “You okay? You ran straight into the fence, ya idiot!”
    With groans like that of an old man, I sat up and stared out at the fence that appeared a mile away. Realizing the barbed wire etched onto the multiple rungs of fencing, I lifted my shirt to see a rain of bubbling and bloody holes in my chest and stomach. Each, seemingly large, barbed bullet hole was connected with red lines, slit with cuts scattered along. As my brother described it to me, “you were flying at the fence like a maniac with your tongue out, and after you hit the fence it threw you back 5 yards onto one of the trees and you were out like a light.”
Squeezing my shirt onto my wounds, I knowingly questioned, “My tongue was out?”
With a laugh he answered, “Yea, I was screaming about the fence on the tree line the whole time, part of the reason I followed you down here.”
Realizing my brother’s warnings I denied ever hearing him…

    Resting on my brother’s arm, we walked back to the house my shirt bloodied with defeat. My brother assured me I’d live, and as he was the proud owner of 4 stitched head scars, I trusted his judgment. As I limped beneath his helping arms, I vaguely remember a sense of guilt and embarrassment for my actions… and even some pride for the concern of my elder brother.  Mom said, "I'dve been safer running with scissors than with such recklessness."  In my most disparaging and embarrassing memories, I seem to find some of my most influential childhood lessons – this one was no exception.

Storybook memory...

    It was a frigid and windy night; my eyes watered uncontrollably. Squinting to gain some focus, I turned the corner toward the rumble of rave-music. The building sounded as if it were underwater. Head bent downward, I peered into the bottom of my brows and out onto the cold air surrounding the drunken music box. It sounded odd… I coughed to reassure my ears they were working. Stings from the cough ran through my torso. Stifling the pain, I adjusted my wrap along my chest to conceal my cracked ribs. I reminded myself it didn’t hurt. Drawing closer to the Rock House, I could make out the colored rays of light spraying through the water stained windows. Rust and condensation were bleeding from the hot water pipes, and I watched as one drop stretched from the pipe’s elbow and dove into the haze of a recent drag of cigarette. The smoke faded onto the curl of familiar lips…

    Her lips were soft from what I remember of our last meeting, also our first meeting... That day she was dancing on the boat deck, hoop in hand, at work oddly enough. The hot sun was burning down onto her tattooed back; something important was etched into the tattooed language I couldn’t translate. She was enchanting, as always. In the randomness of our conversation, I recall asking for her hand in marriage. With a smile, she requested a month to think about it. That night, hours of soul-inspired and yet hasty promises ensued... It became a memory I would escape into amidst the next few months of hollow communication.
    It was cold again. A man, his gaze on mine, reflected off the tinted windows of the cars I passed. His jaunted walk was quiet; albeit he scooted his heals across the salt-stained pavement. A burst of rage music tore through the air as the door opened and dancers made their way onto the smoky patio. The muffled music replayed as the door shut. Against the banks of the river nearby, a stench of soaked wood and muddy rubble found my nose. I pulled the strings on my jacket to hide my face from the smell, and I stared into the glazed wayward eyes of a shivering tousled woman. Her long unwashed braids and Dead Head t-shirt clasped against her thin body. She was explaining something with her hands to two men who were obviously beyond appreciation or concern. They were what my Mom would call, ‘far out.’
    She was obviously coming down from her high as her wits seemed intact; enough so to spot me creep up the sidewalk. I could hear her voice say my name… said as if she’d found a lost heirloom she thought of often. Within the edges of my hood, I strained to hide my blush before I turned to acknowledge her call… With a half smile, I cocked my head sideways and twirled my finger as if to walk through the door, into the bar, and to where she stood. She smiled, nodded, knowingly. I handed over the pricey cover, and waded through a Halloween crowd of farm animals, zombies, and numerous skanky witches. My ribs began to ache again; I ignored it as the wet scent of weed dampened in my nose. Overwhelmed by the peculiar crowd, I hurriedly slid in-between raving couples and found my way to the unlocked door. Hand upon the frosty glass, I pushed open the stained glass door. Cold rushed onto my face with an interruption of warm cinnamon and something lavender to follow. A figure abruptly nestled against my chest, and two chilled hands found their way under my jacket and onto the middle of my back. A voice whispered softly in my ear, "Hey."

    Encompassed in her arms, my ribs were silent. I closed the embrace and placed my lips against her neck. She sighed something awesome… and I felt myself fade into the cold expanse above us... Returning to the ground, my mind broke from the spell… I knew our feelings would never be realized because of her daughter and the distance between our homes. But, I will always relish in the way she and I spent our moments together. It was relentless, unabashed, always fulfilling… a temporary madness. And on the bridge of random messages and not speaking, these moments are something I’ll miss…

Chapters of my Life

I like to write... I'm not great, but I enjoy doing it, and maybe blogging will keep me fresh for when I have kids some day and they need guidance. I will most likely do what my parents did, "I don't remember having to do this when I was in school," but maybe not? Anyway, I was trying to think of something that I would enjoy doing and that would hold my interest after a few weeks. So, I've decided to take some random favorite moments in my life, and turn them into overanalyzed first person short stories. Some recent, some old, some of yours, some of mine... So basically something you'd read in chapter books, except all drawn out... because I enjoy writing like that...I indulge. So it might take a whole paragraph to walk up a hill... haha... I'll try and keep them short, but no promises... scratch that... they'll probably be long... I can't help myself... And if i feel the need, I may dabble in some poetry which will be wretched. Here's to blogging.