Tracy Chapman

Driving along, looking ahead of my car, checking my rear view mirror for cars shifting lanes and listening to "The Yiddish Policeman's Union." I had been out there since leaving Wooster, somewhere on the new 30, still miles from Dalton. The lay of the road was the slightest incline and on a bend so like a slingshot. Speeding behind me, leaving many car lengths to pass, a car in my near-car style ducks and swoops around my side. As the car is in passing I remark at how fast it, now she, now she with a ponytail, now she with a ponytail with her headrests extended in a model of car I can't identify, is driving. As she's passing and continuing, an officer in the story comments on a death to another detective by saying something like, "I may have to rethink my atheistic assumptions." She becomes a car again and zips forward and my head rotates back inside my windshield to center and it's suddenly, "I am going so slow. I am driving this slow. I am driving this car slowly."

Like the wastoid character in "The Pale King" on a couch in front of a soap opera on a Friday afternoon. It goes to one commercial and two and then the program checks back in with the title card and a voice over says, "You are watching As the World Turns." He repeats it until he's watching as the world is turning.

My session with Dr. Karger was our best yet. Like the only requirement with a book is that it ends (period) in a kind of tie-loose-ends summary, this sixth session could not have happened without the previous five. At the very end - I think we exceeded 50 minutes - he told some of his personal history. A math major who took that degree even higher until he said no more math; I want to work in social services. Um, his story told, along with a phrase I have never said before - "This is what I want to do" - along with the previous 50 minutes of session took me back to Sunday morning's candidates and catechumens with their sponsor's arm draped around their opposite shoulder. Emotional. Then, somehow when I said, "I'm okay," it felt like the right thing to say.

a-who

I can't tell you what is happening inside my skin on my left shoulder. It's a nervous breakout.

Okay, who removed Jewel's original "Foolish Games" from YouTube? It was fair use, sir.

Is it right to say TED talks a little too often? Tell me.

How do I use "and" and "with" without confusing me?

Today's Delilah's Dilemma was a doozy.

men's room

I can like my two friends when we make plans to play Steel Battalion and talk jobs. I can like them eating pizza in a triangle around a table with one leaf folded against the wall. And before giving many more places and ways I can like them, I can not like them when I ask them to hit the weights in the basement and their hands become paws. Paws that can still clench things. All the dumbbells, the single kettlebell, the range of bars and my Dad's God damn exercise bike that this morning is not displaying its timer numbers. I can not like them before I dislike myself about not saying, "THE SIGN SAYS GET OFF."

Coincidence if the electrical coils really are corroded.

she is a lionheart

Was that the drum in my heart beating waiting to rise from my bed? Was it the sound of my heart exactly, inside me, between my inner ear and heart? Or does my body weight still press the two brass balls to wall and create a kind of wave carrying a frequency?

Amelia and I ran ... in an odd shape ... in the house. Chases last longer when she's behind. As we ran this time, I took notice of her fatigue but right then I sent her into after burn mode. I slowed and accelerated with finger wags for a more intense run on the final laps. She has stopped on her on will before but there is something about braking in the most wide open section of the circle and motioning that we are finished running.

She inhaled and exhaled bigger than I have ever seen her. Like, full inch taller, full inch shorter. Ex-haust-ed. I forget now, so I won't say how it happened. Either I heard her heart beat as I half-knelt a foot away from her or I wondered and wanted to feel her heart as soon as possible. But I put my whole hand just above that one foot surface area and, I say, I say, I could have closed to a fist like a baseball mitt and I could have grabbed her heart. The back of her little ribs have to be bruised today. She walked to her Grandma and told her to feel her heart just like I told her.

hardly a sheep

What is it called when I volunteer at a hometown branch library for nine months and am pulled in-confidence and told a position will be open in less than two weeks and I swallow the urge to leave? I have applied for an open circulation position at the main branch. It's part-time, not lucrative and a distance to leave a cup of oil in the parking lot. This Dalton position has to be the same. The pay couldn't be any lower legally. Wooster's newest job posting is a honey of a job but nowhere in the qualifications does it require a past of checking out probably 1,000 items.

So what is it called when I want to leave? And what is it called when this is not isolated but repeating? Whatever it is called, name it to include indulging Leonard and conversing about religious vocation.

I am seriously considering enlisting in the Navy. No, I seem to be serious about considering talking to a recruiter because I could have made an appointment on Feb. 1 and I have not. I would not be accepted as an officer candidate. I was not accepted three years ago for the Air Force. But it almost is right ... it is in-line with me.

It has taken me between eight and nine and twenty-seven years to understand, build and accept my strengths and weaknesses.

Stay at one place long enough and someone else with leave without the keys. I worked for that consistent history early in my employment. Start low, apply myself and see results.

I have bought into my own image. That I deserve something based off a couple "final position titles."

I admit I follow well and do not lead well.

But do I foresee what I mean when I say I want an adult life? A serious one. Intelligence in the Navy is one beginning with many years ahead of it.

physical

Thirty seconds running circles around a tree chasing her longer legged uncle must have been a Houdini act for Amelia. I escaped her until she stopped and, I know, was curious if I was gone. She likes walking on the road and squatting behind trees enough with our wood rifles that our fun has continued in the basement after we take off our shoes. She was once excited to hang from the pull up bar. Maybe because I have asked so much or said I was going downstairs to exercise and expected her to follow has she said no. But recently after introducing her to something new that includes me with one wood rifle and her with one wood rifle, there is a kind of conversation. Sound travels from unseen places across the valley. Once, it was an early-puberty-on-course Justin Goudy breaking waves with his trombone. I listened for him outside on our cordless phone waiting to speak again while I listened for some unusual horn sound.

I would say, "Shh!" and now she tells me, "Shh!" A plane or a bird, but I'd like her to hear a horse's shoes because from this distance they are audible.

She understands now not to turn the rifle upside down to pull the trigger. She shoots things right on the road, behind her and ahead of her. I know she does shoot horse manure. She pointed at something on the side of the road and shot, and I asked what she shot, and she said dirt.

She always asks, "Why?" to "We gotta go in," but she moves up the yard or driveway without complaint. There's no time if I look like I'll start jogging.

She wanted to go in the basement. I always have her jump to reach the pull up bar, but she probably couldn't touch my shoulders if I were not leaning over. She'll hang there and then I start pushing her in the whole one foot surface area around her stomach, sternum and chest. My other hand might support her butt and back legs or hold off a couple inches behind her. You feel when someone pulls, you know, when they are trying hard. She does it too. When I would push her 100% she would count - often skipping numbers 13-18. I'm not looking for her to count for this. Just have her eyes on me and know that I am serious - as serious as - about her pulling up.

I just laughed out loud to myself. How serious is it when it's not her chin she tries to eclipse the bar with but lick it with her tongue? At least eight straight times did she lap the bar, leave definite saliva and look for my reaction. I only said something after she stood on the floor again where she innocently admitted it.

I'll say things like, "You want some? You want some?" when I'm punching the overhang bag. She stood nearby when I began then stood on a chair and safely slipped when trying to step down. She's usually not that close. Sometimes sitting on the bottom step or in a corner where she's been known to make breakfast with the pop cans. She had just slipped and stood again. I was laying in with hard one-and-done punches with a long follow through. She stepped from my right side across my body to my middle - I bet right where my center of gravity says the fist and arm motion should end. Before I hit her I saw where I would hit and that it would hurt.

The speed was certainly slow, but she had been hit between her nasal bone and corner of her right eye. Squatting on my knees, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Stop for a second. "I am sorry, I'm sorry." It's okay that Amelia described it through her crying as, "He punched me." How can I say this - she walked into it.

It earned her a quick trip to the recliner and the movie of her familiar choice. A big and small divided pink plate with a serving of food. A blanket covering her crossed legs for a little warmth and a table for her plate. After I dressed for the night, she looked away from the television and totally looked at me and kind of smiled all over when I told her goodbye.

Late Spring

act more

Stretching helps but my back is still barking for sleeping beside my bed and not on it. The duration of a night is much shorter when pain is transferred from one side and shoulder to the other.

My bed sometimes doesn't clear. Yeah, my bed/desk. Like how my desktop has more of these little 50 KB icons on it than ever. I save them for later, know they are there, look again and they date themselves.

Last night I said don't be afraid to apply for these jobs. I have clipped the newspaper and have snipped screen shots and have bookmarked.

It is a lot to think about when reading qualifications that do not match and a kind of yarn is spun in my noodle.

If I have learned something about an alarm sounding at 5 a.m. it is to stop thinking and turn it off. I do see where I'm lazy. It's when I consider - have the debate - whether or not to act. Too much debate and I leave the television on until the next commercial or I encourage and wish a lucid thought in bed as if I were still sleeping or I find some clothes to fold.

I bought a resume service. Maybe just give it to these folks or set an appointment.

they became clutter

I am no longer looking forward to this evening at Dalton Presbyterian Church when I have had planned for 58 days to give blood. It's not exactly a plan, it is more like just written on the first line of the date in my daily planner two months ahead of time. Red Cross workers are on strike.

Tomorrow evening I will be across the street in the library where I restock shelves, sidestep 4 year old's, lower the flag and see if two movies have been checked out. "The New World" for the longest time and, since January, "Mother and Child." Their close proximity moves my eye from a far left corner of "Mo" to a middle section of "Ne." Only last week was "Mother and Child" missing. Maybe a single time since May the same for "The New World." I could not say which movies are most often picked and borrowed. If Wayne County PL requests all librarians to tally - in written pencil and in categories - questions patrons ask to yield statistics, I'm sure there is an electronic log for popular books and media.

I would watch either of those - along with about another dozen movies - in any mood. But I am trying to stop. I have stopped. The movies in my room I can leave in their cases. Return them and resist requesting anymore.

pushy

On the mornings there is trash to burn, I light a couple discarded tissue papers a couple feet below the rim of the barrel then I turn around and check my car parked. I check the passenger side for any of the smallest pieces of paper like a gas receipt. This morning there was one receipt and a crumpled piece of paper that was flat in my possession for less than five minutes.

I've heard it said if the brain is a piece of paper, the way to squeeze it inside the cranium is to crumple it. Dense brain.

I just couldn't go as far as not looking at the handwriting on the paper one more time. It doesn't really have the same effect if you tell the person you lost that paper but you picture what is on it. But, I couldn't not.

While he wrote his name, address and email, I said thank you. No ulterior reason, that's just when I say thanks. As he wrote, I thought, "If his penmanship is legible ... if he writes in smooth cursive, I'll keep this paper and consider visiting him or getting to know him." But, um, he handed it and it was messy.

He and his mother have recently moved from one of the sides of Cleveland. I think the side with a Ford plant. He was let go and he hasn't let it go. From there the details get as complicated as wrongful termination, mortgage payments and the death of his Dad. Maybe if I'd have known your Dad or we were cousins Leonard, I could make a connection to you, but I couldn't. That he received some kind of honor from the Mayor of Cleveland gives me information on an online city hall search but ...

Then finally, the way Sally said, "Goodbye Leonard." It was like she dropped the prepositional phrase, "And you be good this week." I don't laugh as much with my friends as his dumbfounded gasps of air were attempts to make me laugh.

get together

I'm driving to Mark's house. Then we're driving to Jason's house. Mark is home for awhile from Togo, West Africa. Jason has probably been texting back and forth with people interested in buying his truck. See you later with funny stories.

blue lemon book

If today is a talent show, my blue jeans win the blue ribbon.

It seems as important to me to find fixes for scratches on my lenses as it does to scan the classifieds.

Let's work out. I am listening to the audiobook "The Pale King."

cheer up

I just polished the chair that I bought ... that I gave Jason stake money for to bid on at an antique auction. Jason and I - non-professional movers for sure - packed and moved an antique store that, by the number of trips we drove in route, must have receded back decade by decade to 1900. (Was that clear? After moving all the big furniture first, all these little pieces kept showing up like we were moving back in time of this antique store and not the heritage of those exact pieces.)

My chair is dated and plated. Behind me, a bronze plate reads SAMUEL WHITMAN | IN APPRECIATION FOR YOUR VALUABLE CONTRIBUTIONS | AS A DEAN OF THE | CASE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF MEDICINE | 1967-1980

Below me is a white paint stamp. BOONE IND., INC. | BOONE, NC | HANDCRAFTED | BY Steve Cante 80

This isn't even the chair I sat in when on the first day I asked if we could take a break. Two weeks into January, reclining with my gloves off, "So Jason, what are your goals for 2012?" His response: "Goals?" He's a little bit older than me. Is 27 now, will be 28 this year. He said he would la-ove to go to Baghdad with someone he knew. He said he would probably marry Jen this year.

Because I brought it up, I knew where I was going with the conversation. I wanted to say something like, "Wow, this is kind of news to me that you would consider enlisting if you could go with someone ... someone in addition to Jen. But don't hold it against me if I just go and don't ask you."

On January 1st, before or after the deciding emails with Dave, I sat across from Dawn who had just sat down and was interested in my situation. It was one of those big meals a little after lunchtime to stuff yourself enough for the next mealtime. That morning, somehow I thought about walking into (I remember this story) a Marine recruiter's office, asking some questions, closing me eyes and signing the line. I told her and she could barely respond. Her eyes started to water and I could almost feel her feet start to march out of place. She looked at me and I asked if I said something wrong and she answered by saying something like, for her two sons she would give her life and the same for her grand babies. She'd do it without a second thought. She never said it, but, I understood I should give the idea a second thought.

precedent

The importance of learning history is - as best I can gather, Merle and Mr. Lincoln - finding answers to questions that have already been asked and are not worth re-breathing.

look like keys

I could have drove home last night through the winter weather advisory. Clearly the phone call wasn't worth it as this game of tag is in the third round. Could maybe have took 1 of the 100 carnations from the bucket and ... oh what's that movie where she waits the with flower?

Fifty minutes flies by explaining between nine months and nine years and as long as I can remember. "I haven't been compensated since May because ..." "I would have researched other college options since ..." "I watched an X rated tape in my first intermediate grade."

On my first visit I locked my keys in my car. The time was 8:30 or 9:00 a.m. and with no other car parked in the small backyard lot of this normal, residential, brick, ranch house. In the back there is a ramp for wheelchair accessibility, so that sets it apart. I waited. I must have skipped the routine of ... the routine I can't describe unless I'm behind the steering wheel shutting the engine off. Dropped my keys in a sunken holder. And then he came and I left my keys.

I have now gone through two concealed or myopic holes and crams on the exterior of my car to hide not only the door key, but what the hell, the start key too. Lost and found one of the keys over a week's time and I now have them in a better spot.

I suppose just writing that the keys to unlock and drive my car are located on the outside of my car is enough to attract a search. If an attempt to steal comes, may my car have bumper to bumper alarm coverage. That's all I'm saying.

adopted postcard

I like the postcard I just addressed.

So, from privately to ... practically privately:

"Dear Alan,

A Belgian postcard and a Hawaiian
stamp. Where in the world is Carmen
Sandiego?

You know what is great, unique
about a postcard? Your fingerprints
reflect in the light. Granted, they may
be a clerk's or a carrier's. That's why
I'm mailing this on a cold day when
gloves are worn and, doubly for the
route drivers, heat coils are cracked
and antifreeze is low. No other mechanical
problems though - I do want the post-
card to arrive. Look for my fingerprint
on the darkest part of the postcard.

I'm interested to know if you've had
any days or moments of epiphany. Or,
what has made you think hard lately?

Seeing you in Toledo was enough. It
was good for the soul. The sight of a
person has so many of its own benefits.
Like something out of "The Double Life
of Veronique."

I'm not giving you much to go on or re-
spond to, but hey, it is a hello.

I trust you as well.

Love John Malich"

titles

After this morning, with the volume accidentally lower than the previous three days, I am afraid to change my alarm song from Zbigniew Preisner's "Lacrimosa" to any of the other five songs on my re-writable disc. AC/DC's "For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)" didn't work the last two weeks - the days I tried it. The "A Clockwork Orange" theme was an instant play that evening in my car, but in the morning the music just kind of levels out real quick with a big thud. Hasn't worked. AC/DC's "C.O.D." is just a song I like but haven't used. "Singin' in the Rain" was intended to be used like that science concept I remember reading about in early school years. You will sleep through a no-break, loud television and you will break a dream with a knock on your door. Lastly, a "Rocky" song. I don't know it. I don't know if it is "Gonna Fly Now" or "Going the Distance." Those - based on their GO! names - made sense to check, but now I think it is actually "The Final Bell." Appropriate as the last song. And sensible that I would never start an alarm with a two minute last song that does not repeat.

After last night and not knowing, I'm taking a shot. Alphabetically, maybe:
Monster
Monster House
Monster-in-Law
Monsters, Inc.
Monster's Ball

I know "Monster" is first. Unless I add "King Kong." The branch doesn't own "Godzilla." And, there are so many "monsters," the word starts to look like "manure." Mon-ster. It's not that bad.

stretch stretch stretch that spine

The newspaper is delivered around 6 a.m.? Unacceptable.

Both the thoughts, "I'm waking up tomorrow at 5?" and "I could be sleeping" come in the bathroom. And they have to be near the same spot I suspect. With the Quartz clock above the water closet, it being five minutes fast doesn't make as much as a difference then as when I am in the shower and know I still have to shave. After two days the thoughts are equally new and old. "Haven't done much of this before." "......"

I can't seem to write the old. "This is it?" and "So I'm awake three hours earlier" are all wrong. After two days this has been worth it. I know, my schedule hasn't wrinkled yet. I haven't been out late or slept in another house on someone else's bed or couch to challenge me.

Then, I had more alarms. I snoozed the phone three or four times based on its settings and the alarm clock stopped when I hit stop/radio/band. I'd jump back in bed without flipping on the lights for a shock or take a drink of water which had been thawing through the night.

night of the living

That night, as the Big Bang Theory was about to start at 11 p.m., I laced the short shoestrings on my boots, added a sweatshirt with a hood, unhung my heaviest and closest jacket and wrote a note: "Mom or Dad, I'm outside. Don't worry. I'll be back. I have my phone with me - 330 268 6904. I'm not driving, I'm walking. Be back, Love John."

I had just been lying on the spacious floor between my bed and window. The moon shined in a high corner of my window. I could see it. From another angle I might have just seen a slightly brighter room. "Okay, I'll go." Even as they are here when a month ago they were not, even as it is snowing as a month ago it would have not.

I wrote the note, grabbed hats and gloves and considered where to drop it. The bar in the hallway, by a pair of shoes, the kitchen table near the telephone or the second from the bottom step. That's the one I picked.

How did I feel? Like I'd just spent the day at school and could recall every 52 minute period but answered - to keep consistent - fine. I felt fine. Oh, I guess my blood was boiling some. I had just "exercised my middle finger" through an unrecoverable, soon to open email. Stay away I say! Leave me to have night on the road, vulnerable, looking over my shoulder.

3 alarm chili

It may help that a joined birthday party was thrown and all local, immediate family have hand delivered me birthday cards. A week+ early that easily feels like two whole weeks like it is the first day of February and each day is a little shorter this month. At 6:30 a.m. and awake for an hour, the early birthday cards should do the same I did in bed on the late evening of my 25th birthday. Being February, I probably slipped into bed with jeans and the rest of the next day's warm clothes. Ready for tomorrow but not yet ready to sleep until I had some sort of re-dedication. I can think, maybe then I'd said, "Watch movies more meaningfully" or "Have encounters on mysterious nights with Eyes Wide Shut." That second is a little too specific, and I doubt I thought anything like that.

The Label Maker

I'm going to the Super Bowl party. I'm taking the toothbrush with me.

0:00oo

You bought a stopwatch. Please use it for those anaerobic exercises like you planned.