Sunday, August 13, 2006

Saturday, August 12, 2006


When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon -- do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would have never set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.




My New T-Shirt Design!

Saturday, August 05, 2006


Ate a tasty lunch/breakfast/whatever at the Welcome Diner 'round the crack of noon, today, having drunk the previous night away*.

*Am listening to Modest Mouse yet again and can't help but sample some of their lyrics as I go.

We'd drunk ourselves into (stupidity? honesty? oblivion?) at the all too familiar Bikini Lounge** - myself, Matt Danley, Big Ax, and of course, the inimitable M. The boys had begun drinking around 10:30 am (so they said) and M and I did our best to quickly acclimate.

It was First Friday and I slipped out for a moment to catch a whimsical street dance performance (think "Flash Dance" meets "Mad TV") just outside the bar.

When I returned M had wrapped Matt's Kenneth Cole belt around her head, (looking like a cross between a 20's flapper girl and a Punk with a leather fetish) and with 7 or 8 inches of the belt stuck straight up in the air, proceeded to start whacking people with an ostrich-like, pecking motion.

**The three previously posted photos are all taken from a recent Bikini outing.

The evening had started innocently enough when I'd met up with Longhair for a beer, at, of all places, at the Mall of America.
I'd told M I was going to the "Mall of America" but that's in Minnesota. This place, the Arizona Mills Mall, is actually in Tempe at the intersection of Baseline and I-10, but once you've seen one mall...

And I say "of all places" because I'm not too big on Malls:
When I first moved to Phoenix, some 15 years ago, I got a job at a Mall Jewelry Store and ended up hating it so much I'd eat my lunch outside, in a 115 degrees, in a suit, just for a brief respite.

Something about those places - forced air, weird acoustics, overstimulation, whatever, that just sucks the life out of me. Bleah.

All of that notwithstanding, I met Longhair, and, as it turns out, some of our old compatriots down at the Mall:

Gene the dancing machine was there, with his little baby boy, and Longhair's bro, a 20 year police vet (seeking solace from his very pregnant, somewhat hormonally imbalanced girlfriend) not to mention Big J the SilverBack, Crouch, and M. Polo (recently retired from a 2 year stint as an AVP coach. Weird but cool. Anyway...)

We all hung out, caught up, tipped a few and then, everyone went to play video games. I paid my tab, went downstairs, and couldn't find anyone.


I stepped outside to check my messages.


Once outside the Mall one foot kept falling in front of the other and pretty soon I was shooting down the freeway with the warm air rushing past.

The rest is history.

Longhair, my bad for leaving without saying good bye.