Ramble On

 

***This is Stanley, my current dog. She sits in my window frightening foes and waiting for a friend.***

So, I’m selling my house, next spring. I live in an awesome house in an awesome neighborhood, but I’ve lived here ten years. It’s time to do something different. I’m going to get a deluxe apartment in the sky, on the other side of the river, and I am going to walk and bike till my feet are calloused and my butt is raw.

I need a space for only myself, and for better and worse only need to live for myself. My current energies go toward work, my athletic endeavors, my friends and family, and some other things I will add to my “do” persona in the near future. Right now I have neither the time nor desire to care for a house on my own anymore.

. . . time I was on my way
Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay
but now it's time for me to go, the autumn moon lights my way
for now I smell the rain, and with it, pain
and it's headed my way
Aw, sometimes I grow so tired. . . .

. . . I've been this way ten years to the day.

~Robert Plant/Led Zepplin

So on my way I am. Bruises healed but soreness remains, that dreaminess of the autumn past reflects now as only a dream, Options present, though, are clear: Stay and just roll on, stay and get a dog—sort of go back to my former self—or move faraway, to somewhere I can dance and play outside year round. Or, just radically shift my existence locally. That’s the good thing about cities, especially when you have neighboring ones that are quite different. You can change pretty dramatically without loadin’ up the truck and headin’ outstate.

So to Minneapolis I will go next spring to live my life on the other side, leaving behind some friendly folks as well as some ghosts here in St. Paul. My beat goes round and round, and as I trust myself and others, I trust to wherever my path leads.

"We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone--but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy." 

--Walter Anderson

This, my friends, I know.

Wicked Garden

***Will you look me in the eye? Will you run from what you see? Will you see me in the light? Hope you do, I hope you stay!
--Tapes n Tapes, "Freak Out"

So, when you buy tickets to an event, you have a vision of what that event will be like, perhaps based on past experiences. For me, with Rock the Garden my vision is always a beautiful sunny Minnesota summer day, pretty women in pretty dresses, and some of the whitest bare-chested guys you've ever seen. And beer. And bikes.

This year, only the beer and a few bikes showed up. I ride my bike to RTG each year, which is about ten miles or so. As I mentioned yesterday, it was raining when I left. And it kept raining. So I rode in the rain. Aside from my shoes and socks, I was relatively dry when I got there. Thankfully, it was warm but not hot, so all in all it wasn't too bad. The rain continued for a while at the show, and unless you consider plastic rain pouches pretty, there wasn't a whole lot of pretty going on. I did, however, discover a new kind of pretty: Women with mud splats on their calves from riding their bikes in the rain make me swoon.

Just another hot, hot summer in my life. And it's just another hot, hot summer in my life. And it's just another hot, hot summer in my life. Chicks on, chicks on, chicks on bikes, yes! --City on the Make, "Chicks on Bikes".

Anyway, the rain more or less stopped an hour or two into the show, and the music was splendid. Minneapolis' own Tapes n Tapes is always a good show, Booker T Jones grooved the place like madmen, Neko Case's voice predictably gave me chills, and My Morning Jacket made certain that no one within a 20-mile radius even entertained the thought of going to bed.

There were a couple notable things at the show. One, Steve Seal didn't drop an f-bomb (or was it an s-bomb?) on stage--not even sure he was there. Two, for the first time ever I used the little urinal thingie in a Johnny on the Spot. Three, we met some cool people and hung out a little while after the show, and we shall hang out again, sans rain gear hopefully. This year though, there really was no epic moment such as Shara Worden splendidly killing it a couple years ago with her voice or Sharon Jones just being, well, Sharon Jones. Neko did entertain me with my favorite song of hers, though.

And I sang it all the way on my mostly no-hands bike ride home. Talk about epic. It was about 75 degrees, the rain had been gone for a while, and there was a bit of a surreal haze or fog lingering. I love biking at midnight anytime--my ride home from RTG is always one of my fav things of summer--but this year it was extra smashing. Beautiful, quiet, pleasantly creepy. Going over the fancy-schmancy ped bridge over Hiawatha, on the Greenway, was just fabulous. It has these soft blue lights shooting into the sky, and they reflected mightily off the haze, creating cone-like . . . yeah whatever, it was cool.

And now it's Father's Day, and boating beckons for Mr. Me. Happy Father's Day! I leave you all with the "Freak Out" vid from Tapes n Tapes. Full lyrics can be found here. Peace.

Rock My Garden

Well, it's my favorite event of the summer, Rock the Garden--and it's pouring rain! Yowsa. So here I sit, all bike-geared up, waiting, waiting for the rain to stop. Not looking good at the moment. I'm really, really looking forward to my half-looped midnight ride home, so hopefully it will stop so I can ride there soon. I'm not averse to biking in the rain, but man oh man would I be soaked by the time I got there, even though I get to stand outside in the rain, if it continues to rain, for seven hours following that. Regardless, ten miles is a ways to go in pouring rain, no doubt.

Either way, the hill at the Walker is going to be destroyed after this thing, not to mention the pretty floors inside it, where they let us go pee--not on the floor, but in the bathrooms inside.

Monday on my way home it started raining, right when I got to the city line. And yep, I was soaked by the time I got home. Good times all the way.

Anyway, Neko Case is part of the lineup today, so here's my fav song of hers. And yes, I did post this same song way back when on here. See ya.

Candor Man

***My two house guests are back, Wallace and Sophie! Here for a whole week. They are super, super good doggies.***

For a couple of years while I lived in Tahoe, I had a journal. I’d type in it virtually every day. No one saw it but me. Now, I have this blog. It of course started as a blog about Bernie, but for the most part it has morphed into a personal blog about my life. It isn’t quite a journal, for I do not and will not divulge every detail of anything. As well, for the most part, I leave others’ names out of it to protect the innocent or guilty, save for matter-of-fact references.

When I blog, it is because I have something I want to say and I am in the mood to write. Usually, the reason for this is that to type and write helps my overall thought process about a situation. It is one piece of the thought process, and one piece only. What I write is a picture of my thoughts at that very moment in time. 

There are at least two problems with this.

One, thoughts change. As we gain more insight and perspective of a situation, in part simply the result of time passing, our thoughts and opinions shift. Rarely do I go back and read previous posts, but occasionally I do. And what I see months later is often not what I think “now." Of course, people who read this don’t know this, or at least don’t consider that, which is perfectly reasonable. You see words on a page that I wrote, so they must be what I think. The reality is, they are what I thought, though they may be what I still think. Or maybe not. And of course, I might have been flat-out wrong at the time I wrote it.

I got a review at work a couple weeks ago, which went very well thank you very much, but one of the things I said I need to work on is harnessing my initial thoughts on things until I’ve given myself time to think them through. I don’t have outbursts or anything like that, rather, what I say in the heat of the moment is often not on par with my thoughts once I have had time to consider. The same thing is true with my blog: What I write one day may not be my opinion or interpretation the next day, week, or month. That’s how it works, and to a point I hope everything you read here is consumed with a grain of salt. While Bernie’s Blog is not exactly an expose of my life, it nonetheless takes balls to put this stuff out there. You never know where your thoughts will go from that point on, and you never know who is reading what you thought when you wrote it. So I try to be gentle and tactful yet fair to myself. I am an emotional adrenaline junkie, so I need to say what I need to say when I need to say it, just barf on the page a little bit. Of course, anything I say here can be used against me in the court of life, this I know. Fair or unfair, it is what it is.

The second problem with writing stream of thought here is that readers obviously don’t have the full context, of both the situation and my thoughts. There’s always more to the story, folks. For every deeper or darker thought or experience I share, there are a million pieces on the subject that are swirling around my brain that you’ll never know, unless you liquor me up and ask the right questions. In essence, you see what I write, but you don’t necessarily know why I wrote what I wrote. And I’m not going to share everything I think, ever. A guy’s gotta have some secrets, yo.

I live rather transparently, at least much more so than I used to, though it does ebb and flow. There are, of course, limits to this, limits that often depend on my mood. I always appreciate comments left by readers about what I wrote, but at the same time I also appreciate no comments in the sense that I can write what I want when I want, and I don’t have to worry about being grilled, coddled, or beat up. I mean, we all have bad days, cranky dispositions at times, uninformed opinions, misreads on situations, and the like. It is nice to be able to share them and not be judged.

So keep the salt shaker handy, my friends.

Musings

***This is Cal, cutest puppy ever. She is my neighbor. Bernie would love Cal.***

I was going to post a pre-written entry, but it turns out, I have already posted it. Over a year ago. Wow. I thought it had only been a few months since I wrote it, let alone posted it. This is the one I was going to post, with a few additions.

So I'll write. I gave five dollars to a dude standing at the side of the freeway exit today. I don't know why, I never do that. This cat, though, looked sad. Super sad. So I pulled out five dollars, then he was super happy. I wonder if the fact the episodes of The Wire I've watched recently had anything to do with me giving dude money. See, I told you I'm trying to be more empathetic and understanding!

I'm sitting at my allergist's right now, just got my two injections for the week. Allergy shots are the bomb! When I was a kid, Dad used to give them to me, say once a week. Then my allergist died unexpectedly when I was about ten years old, and that was that for allergy shots--because there was only one allergist in St. Louis back then. Not really. I started getting them again a couple years ago, because I was getting frequent sinus infections. Since then, no more sinus infections. What sucks is that after you get your shots, you have to sit here for a half hour to make certain you don't freak out--your body that is. So here I sit.

I've also been to a bunch of Twins games, to continue from yesterday. I'll get to the house selling in another post. I met Twins pitcher Nick Blackburn, who proceeded to pitch a complete game the next night. There must be some correlation, don't you think? I rode my bike to the Twins game Sunday, met Dennis in the midst of the city and we pedalled together--different bikes--from there. Dennis and I on a tandem would be a hilarious sight. On that day, Francisco Liriano had a perfect game through six (I think, might have been five innings), and a no hitter through seven. That didn't work out, but the Twins won, which is good. For the record, I'm a die-hard Cards fan, always. I went to the Twins game Saturday, too, another winner for the Twinkies. I have to say, aside from Wrigley, Target Field is the best I've ever been too. Blows the new Yankees Stadium away, hands down.

Time to go. Game seven of the Stanley Cup tonight at 7 CDT on NBC. Check it. Chipotle first. Later gators.

Meat

 ***This is Zora, about three weeks ago. Zora is my friend Josh's dog, 13 years old I believe--Zora, not Josh. One time, back in the day, Zora punched me so hard in the crotch that fire came out of my ears. That is the power of Zora.***

I thought I was dying. Yep, really. Not from getting punched by Zora years ago, but here and now--really recently, for real. Now, you don't want to hear about my medical ailments anymore than I want to hear about yours, so I won't get into details, but I will say the affliction had nothing to do with my crotch or butt. Let's just say I thought maybe lifetimes were catching up with me, though. From about May 1 till June 6, I thought I might be dying. Truly.

Any blog post where you use "crotch" twice is a quality blog post, people.

I'm not dying, at least I'm 96% certain I'm not. I went to THE doc last Monday, June 6, and he looked right at it--YOU can't see it, so don't even try it if you see me. All good, he said. Take this OTC med for a month, good to go. So it hasn't all gone away, but it seems to be better, plus I still have three weeks to go. All crises pass . . . even if you do die, I suppose.

All that sucked the life out of me at a time when I didn't need any suction. The winter months were tough, but I got through them, and when April rolled around, just for fun I decided to get into the best shape of my life, though I'm in pretty good shape all in all anyway. I did gain 6.5 percent of my body weight over winter. Since, I've lost 60 percent of that. So I started to get into super shape in April, survived a ridiculously close-to-being-serious bike-car encounter--I was the bike--and I was on my way.

Till death stared me down, yo. I lost that weight because I exercised a lot and didn't eat enough. I thought, I got through all that noise this winter, start to get on a roll, then bam! The lingering grim reaper turned me into a turd. I dealt with it as well as possible and tried to be rational about it, but I was more than stunned that the temple that is my bod had decided to suddenly and completely freak out. That didn't sit too well with me, and while this is probably my fault, it spun my brain back over to the dark side a bit, and well, I didn't feel like eating. Nor doing much else, though I did do in a semi-dysfunctional state for the majority of those six weeks. I stayed busy and played happy. 'Cause that's what we do. Even when we're falling off a cliff.

I think I pissed a couple of people off during this period 'cause I was freaked. I think they should teach forgiveness as a class, just like English or Math. Really though, I've been trying really hard to be a better listener and more empathetic, and it is working--until I thought I was dying.

Anyway, over that time I watched a lot of playoff hockey. Biked a lot. Socialized. Golfed. Worked, though my focus at times was less than stellar. Took lots of walks. Mingled.

And I decided to sell my house.

Release

Note on 2/9/24: This post used to have an embedded Pearl Jam vid. Now, though, Pearl Jam doesn't allow embeds. You can go watch it on YouTube, and I recommend you do. "Release" in all its glory from a March 4, 1992 show in Holland. (Sidenote: I've seen PJ a couple times, including the legendary May 1992 "Day on the Hill" show at my alma mater in Lawrence, KS -- ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK! Stick "Pearl Jam Day on the Hill" in the YouTube search for the deets. I was sitting on the hill.)

*Original Post* 

 Lovely day here. Bike ride, beach volleyball, a little golf yet to come.

And in the midst of it all, one of my fav Pearl Jam songs.

That voice, my god sing to me all night long. Sing what it says to me in this song. Release me.

I see the world
Feel the chill
Which way to go
Windowsill
I see the words
On a rocking horse of time
I see the birds in the rain

Oh dear dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll ride the wave
Where it takes me
I'll hold the pain
Release me

Oh dear dad
Can you see me now
I am myself
Like you somehow
I'll wait up in the dark
For you to speak to me
I'll open up
Release me
Release me
Release me
Release me