AKA Abraham Bacoln

Every time I see or wear my What Would Tom Waits Do t-shirt I am impressed by the fact that I have never yet been in a situation where I knew the answer to that question. Say there’s a jerk in the left lane who won’t let anyone pass – just what would Tom do? Pull off the interstate and drive the back roads until he came to a barbecue shack run by a one-armed ex-shoe-salesman and his blind wife, Beulah? Or would he pull out a shotgun and blow a hole in the hood of that yellow Corvette? Hang his arm out the window and let the wind smoke his cigarette for him as he daydreams about the girl he left behind in Illinois?

I don’t think there will ever be a right answer to that question.

I do have a question, though, for which there is a right answer. Regarding the one posed in my last blog entry – the song that made me cry was “Widow’s Grove” by Tom Waits. I don’t know why. Thankfully none of you knew that answer. I’d hate to have to ask you to get out of my head.

WERE IN UR CAR

Originally uploaded by Kevin O’Mara.

I took a couple days of my Spring Break to go visit the Trey and the Megan (and the Jason and the Angela). If you’re hip you already knew that, but if you’re not, then consider yourself informed. What does it feel like to be hip?

I filled up my gas tank the instant before I left. On the way out I stopped only twice, and each time was concerned only with the meat part of the car/driver combo: once to output and once to input.

It used to be that I was not a hardcore driver. I drove several times from Cookeville to New Orleans, sure, but that was always with a driving companion. So were the trips to and from Boston or North Carolina – but on the way out to the Great Northwet I got an idea what a true road trip was like as we spent 13 days on the road. Then I proved my mettle by doing the trip from Portland, OR back to Cookeville in four days by myself. I am now officially hardcore when it comes to driving. Before that trip I thought about four hours was my max before I needed to rest or switch out. No, no, no, that’s not true at all. Next time we meet up why don’t you buy me a drink and let me tell you how awesome I am when it comes to driving.

So yes, where was I? OH the trip to Richmond. I did it in ten minutes shy of eight hours, only two stops, and didn’t have to refuel my car at ALL though the next day when I got in it the low fuel danger bus light came on instantly, so I apparently had cut it very very close. OH AND HEY I AM NOT CRAZY and I don’t drive 90 miles an hour or anything, so don’t think this is me bragging on speeding. Speeding is for suckers and people with fast cars and those two concepts are not mutually exclusive.

On the way out I listened to four artists on six CDs. I won’t bore you with the details. None of us are musicologists here. However, I will give someone … let’s see what I have in my wallet here … I will give someone TWENTY WHOLE DOLLARS if they can, in one try, name the song that made me cry while I was driving. Go!

ENOUGH ABOUT ME, more about Those People. I was totally mystified by Megan and Trey’s apartment because the Hallway Designer (that’s a specific title and if you work hard and go through the four year program you too can be Firstname Lastname, HD) apparently forgot how right angles work. It was a bit confusing at first, but now I’m very comfortable with the fact that it only has two dimensions. Their place is cute, of course, because they have some of the best Stuff that there is, which I hear is in great part thanks to the MeganMom but that is currently an unsubstantiated rumor and requires further research.

Shortly after my arrival we walked (! hooray!) to a nice restaurant called Bacchus. I looked at the menu and informed Treygan that we were going to eat there because everything sounded awesome. I got a spinach salad with a green apple vinaigrette plus goat cheese and pine nuts and that alone was enough to make me swoon. Maig and Traig got a julienned green apple and endive salad with … oh, poop, I can’t remember the cheese that was involved. Doesn’t matter, it was delicious. I’ll stop here with the food talk so that those of you who are like me and stuck in Cookeville don’t go crazy hearing about the pasta selection or the Kobe beef or the mushrooms or the cheeses or the wine or any of it. Okay sounds good! Done!

On Sunday we … what’d we do? Dang. OH YES we went all up and down Cary St. just shopping and being outside and walking. Hooray for big cities where there are actually shopping districts where the idea is not to drive your car from one Big Box Store parking lot to the next. We were all good and didn’t buy much other than wine and port and cheese and books. We also later drove all over downtown and saw the sights but there was so much that I can’t include it all here other than to mention that I love the exterior of the train station and there was also a joke about cobblestones OH and I used my cameraphone to take the picture that graces this entry.

Dinner on Sunday was DELIGHTFUL. I mentioned that I’d love to have some Vietnamese since none of the restaurants in Portland really did it for me. Jason and Angela met up with us and we drove out to Mékong somewhere in the suburbs. I got my pho and it was fantastic and the closest thing to the pho served by my favorite restaurant of all time, Pho Tau Bay in New Orleans and I really can’t begin to express how much it pleased me. OH and their nuoc cham was … I don’t know if it was correct but it tasted like I want it to, like I’m used to getting from PTB. Five stars, double thumbs up. Trey got pho as well and was impressed, and everyone came away full and happy and fat and sassy.

After that we tried to improve our fattitude and sassyness by eating a bunch of ice cream, and I think it worked. THEN we went back to Treygan’s and the manly men drank port and ate cheese while the women didn’t.

On Monday the Trey had to work, which sucked. I got up nice and early and relaxed while the Megan got ready, and then we went and visited some shops that weren’t open on Sunday (like the CAMERA SHOP and the KITCHEN GADGETS STORE and can you tell whose idea it was to visit those?) and then we drove out to more suburbs to meet Trey at his workplace and take him out for lunch. In the afternoon Maig and I went to explore the train station (excuse me, The Clock Tower if you’re a Richmonder) and just walked all over downtown taking pictures and goofing off. Then we headed back to their neighborhood, checked out two art galleries with WONDERFUL installations and I’ll have to get Megan to tell you who the artists were because I forgot to grab brochures but when you get rich by guessing the special song you go take your money to those galleries and buy some pieces, okay? Then give them to me and we’ll be even.

Trey returned, having worked a full day at making webs, and we headed down to a great sushi joint called Sticky Rice and proceeded to have the best sushi experience ever. We sat at the bar and our main sushi chef guy, Justin, was interesting and didn’t mind me bugging him and taking pictures but the best part is that he gave us a few plates of wonderful things just for fun, and that’s the kind of experience that makes you ask the waitress for some of those Sticky Rice stickers you’ve seen all over town so you can promote this wonderful restaurant.

After that? More port, more cheese.

After that? I drove home today. This time the trip took me exactly eight hours. I made only one stop, though, to empty and fill up and also to put gas in the car. I am a rock. I am a driving machine.

Actually, no, Ryan Denning is a driving machine. New York City to Cookeville in one day, one driver. Ben Schtune is the driving king, New Orleans to Philly in one day, one driver. I’m a mere apprentice to those men. But I am hardcore, and I have a bladder of iron.

I listened to one CD. Once. Then I sat in relative silence for the next seven hours. Music influences my emotions more than the silence, so this was a more peaceful and less introspective drive than the one on the way out. Also it was only relative silence because occasionally I will talk to or sing to myself. I can’t help it. Most of the time I was just announcing upcoming towns and exits using the voice of the guy who conducts the T in Boston (Chaahles MGH. Next stop Pahk St. Next stop Downtown Craahsing – switch here for th’ Orange Line).

Now I’m home. Now my cat is stuck to me, and now I’m already regretting my decision not to abandon my entire life in Cookeville and just stay in Richmond. Oh well. As long as I’m back I might as well continue my job and school and all that though I’d much rather go work in a wine shop.

And because I can not stick to just one topic and have not yet had a chance today to say “apropos of nothing” – to someone other than myself, that is – apparently the hip thing for 2007 is to drink unfiltered water. I searched three or four shops here in town for a Brita or Pur pitcher and … maybe I just have a bad case of the dumb, but I could not find a single one. Nada. Nuffink. Did I miss something or what?

First off I have to apologize to Alison, apparently, because she doesn’t understand that I’m not a pre-blogger, I’m a post-blogger. I didn’t announce my visit to Richmond to see Trey and Megan because I’m not much of an announcement guy. Or at least that’s not how I think of myself. I do think of myself as charming, handsome, and charismatic, so there’s that.

So yeah, I’m here (still) in Richmond, VA. I’m leaving first thing in the morning though to go back home and back to WORK because by Gums that’s what one is supposed to do on Spring Break, not all this ridiculous gallivanting about, seeing new places and enjoying the company of friends.

I’ve had a lot of fun the past few days, but most of it was not really even events but simply being around the Trey and the Megan. I miss my friends. I’m glad I got to see them.

Oh, and you can see them. Not in any sort of interactive fashion, really, but … you know, see. OH HEY GUESS WHO ELSE IS THERE? If you’re already a winner at the trivia game: People That Live in Richmond, VA and With Whom Kevin is Friends then you know the answer is Jason Coleman and Angela Dyer. Or is her last name Coleman? I think it’s Dyer. I think of her as Angela Dyer so that must be right, for I am infallible. Occasionally. If you’re lucky.

Okay I should go to bed. I will probably make more words later.

The best part of today was standing in a trash can.

Today is an important day. Today is (for me) the first Day of Shorts for the year 2007. Sure, I’ve worn shorts around the house, but today I wore them OUTSIDE. It is WARM and I am appreciative. I show this appreciation by wearing shorts, as you may already have figured out. This pleases the weather gods because they like to look at my studly leg muscles.

Also, I’m gonna have to buy new shorts soon. The ones I have used to be kinda loose. Now that I’ve lost even more weight, they’re edging into the realm of too loose, which is a Bad Thing. There’s only so much leg that the weather gods like to see at once, and it doesn’t include all the way up to the butt. If my shorts fall down it may get cold again, and right quick.

I’ve been eating a ton of toaster pastries lately (you know, non-name-brand Pop Tarts) because … see, I don’t usually look at advertising. I am Generation X, I am a product of Saturday Morning Cartoon Syndrome where every commercial was a blaring advertisement and every cartoon was a commercial, and none of the toys actually functioned as promised. So yeah, I tend not to notice ads. I have been trained since childhood to tune them out. GUESS THAT DIDN’T WORK OUT SO WELL FOR YOU, DID IT, MARKETROIDS?

Those guys, I swear …

Aaaaaaaanyway, I went in to Kroger the other day to get some toothpaste and I practically ran in to some aisle stack of a nice pleasing arrangement of geometric shapes. I turned to look at this huge pile of smallish boxes, and there above them were the magic words – TEN FOR TEN DOLLARS. That’s right.

A box of toaster pastries.

For a dollar.

I will not tell you how many I bought other than to say it was less than ten but far more than one.

That’s why I’m eating toaster pastries. Right now. If you want some you can come over and have some.

Would you be willing to try hickory-smoked raisins?

More importantly, do you think you would enjoy them?

Is it really insomnia if it’s not so much that you can’t fall asleep, but instead that you never want to go to sleep? For the past two weeks or so I’ve been staying up far too late – sometimes on school work, sometimes on photographs, sometimes on nothing at all.

I feel like crap the next day, and I know the night before that I will feel like crap the next day – and still I do it. I just don’t want to go to bed. I don’t feel tired. I don’t want to sleep.

Is it insomnia? Or just stupidity?

Yes, I’m being intentionally dramatic.

Today I allowed myself to be guilted and coerced by my boss into donning our company mascot uniform (please don’t ask) for our grand opening. Just for a while. I did it because she asked, and because I knew I could entertain.

And I did. Everyone laughed. At some point I had Mary literally lying on the floor, doubled up and almost unable to breathe.

The whole time, all I could think of was this quote:

“A man goes to the doctor. Says he’s depressed. He says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. The doctor says “The treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him, that should pick you up.” The man bursts into tears. He says “But doctor… I am Pagliacci.””

From “The Adventures of Mark Twain” (1985):

Where in the wide wide world of Cookeville can I find some decent 2 oz polyethylene bottles (like so)? I’ve looked at Kroger, several drugstores, and (ugh) Wal-Mart hoping to find something like that in the travel containers section. No luck. I don’t remember seeing them at any of the camping stores, but maybe I’m wrong.

Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to order them off of the internet. Seems silly – they’re just little bottles! Surely they are around here somewhere. I’d pick some up at REI in Nashville but I’m not going there any time soon and I’d like to have them within a reasonable time frame.

Anyway, that’s just more useless complaining by yours truly. You got any idea where they may be hiding, you let me know.