Gang of Four's dewclaw

It was 8:23 in the evening and I was driving from the office to Food Lion. Gang of Four’s “Entertainment!” was blasting out of my poor car’s speakers.

Soon, I noticed that I was hunched over in the seat, wishing I was inside the song. It was a strange moment. One that I can’t really explain. It happened, and then it was over. Why? Because I sat up in the seat.

Something about the hunch, I guess.

These are not normal moments, for normal people. They’re fairly normal for me.

I’m at home now. It’s 2:54 a.m. James Scott Farrin is trying to ambulance chase me on the television. Followed quickly by Ringling Bros. and Barnum and Bailey Circus.

My dog it chewing on his dewclaws. It’s as if he wants to pull them off. One got stuck on my shorts earlier today. I’m guessing it’s too long, and probably damaged now. Guess I’ve got to figure out how to cut it correctly in the morning. Even though it’s already morning.

Tomorrow I’ll drive to a high school. Sit alone in the stands watching the games being played. I’ll keep stats. I’ll watch people. They’ll watch me. Then I’ll talk to the coaches and a couple of kids. Drive back to the office and crank out two stories. Fast. It’s the one skill that hasn’t eroded – quickness.

Interviewing after games? That’s a whole other story.

Features and long-term? No problem. But the after a game ones? I’ve lost it.

“Talk about …”

“What were you thinking when …”

“Tell me about …”

My mind goes blank sometimes mid question or mid reply. It’s kind of frightening, but also kind of invigorating. It makes me have to work harder on things that became routine. That’s a rationalization. I’m no longer 29 and witty. I’m 42 and bitty.

K.C. & the Sunshine Band playing on Dr. Oz. Fuck. My life gets more numb every moment. I want to run to my car and drive somewhere, but I don’t.

Iron Maiden Japan. Charles, why sock E?

There once was a time that my war wounds were cool. Now they’re yellow and old. The wrinkles show. The gray hairs don’t lie. The scars have shrunk with my muscle mass. I look at my legs now and wonder how on earth I used to ride 20 miles on my bike to go try and find Atari games in 100 degree heat. It seems so foreign now.

It makes me think about the video game board games I left behind in the Murphy bed apartment I lived in during my internship in Birmingham, Ala. That makes me think about all the miles I drove around that state. Just about every day I went somewhere new. That was what I thought it was going to be like for decades. When the job didn’t provide it like I thought it would, I used my days off to make it so. Then I used any excuse to go somewhere new.

Now, I dream of going somewhere new. I went to 38 states in about 30 years. Maybe it was 37 and I added one a bit later.

I’m still stuck at 38. At 42.

Those old posts taunt me now…

In 2009 I’m going to visit a new state.

In 2010…

In 2011…

In 2012…

In 2013…

Now, it’s 2014 and I’m working a job. Getting a check. Writing cheques.

I’m going to be a dad. Maybe. I’ve been down this road before. More times than I was ever allowed to know about.

Which makes me think of Oakton.

And bathrooms.

Bad sex.

When there wasn’t such a thing.

I went to New Orleans instead of answering the phone. I’ll always wonder what was on the other end. It’s me. It’s just the way it is. I can say all the right things, but I won’t be thinking them.

John T. Orcutt looks like my boss. It’s like he’s here at home every night on WRAL in Raleigh, North Carolina taunting me. Telling me things I don’t want to hear, but need to.

If I had a gun …

I’d most likely pawn it and buy that Lucero album on ebay that I just can’t afford. $150 for a slab of vinyl that I already own in its actually rarer form, but don’t own it from the special pressing. Why I’m talking about Lucero albums is anyone’s guess. Go figure.

They’ll always be a part of who I am. Which means she’ll always be a part of who I am. And honestly, that’s the way you are too. You just don’t admit it.

Giggling at 42 with Rob Halford and Britney Spears

At 42 years old, I found myself staring at a Britney Spears' team was thrown off by Good Morning American asking a non-scripted question story at 1:11 a.m. on a Wednesday/Thursday night.

What was this question that threw everyone into a sudden tizzy?

"Who was your first kiss?"

Fuck. I don't remember the girl's name. I remember where it was. Exactly. I can take you to the spot in Charlottesville, Virginia. On the corner between two fraternity houses. That's where my first kiss happened.

She was from Richmond. Went to Midlothian High School.

And my roommate Hoon-Na walked in on us when she and I were completely naked in my shitty dorm room bed.

I started laughing almost immediately.

She left.

And she left behind a necklace.

It was cheap. Some kind of black opal on it. I kept it for decades. Threw it away one day in 2008 when I was depressed and feeling bad about myself. A girl -- shock -- had just destroyed my life, or so I thought at the time. One of the reasons, she said at the time, was because I held on the my past.

I have a friend who has pictures of all his exes on his wall in his "man room." He is married. And he sees nothing wrong with that.

When I saw this, and heard (well, read on facebook email) what my ex had to say, I threw away a lot of shit one night.

It felt great that night.

But I do miss my old notebooks,

My friend was right about that one. I'd regret doing it.

I do.

But, I'm much different now. I have a hard time getting motivated to write about things. About life. About the life I wanted to live. About the life I thought I did live. About her. Not the one I was talking about, but the other one.

Which brings me back to my first kiss. I remember it. I was drunk. A couple of college friends, you know, the guys you see when you're drunk and no other time, they were there.

It was cool. It was sweet.

And I don't remember her name. Honestly, don't know if I ever really knew it.

Why I’m thinking about this after looking at a story on Britney Spears, I don’t know.

I have a job. It pays the bills somewhat.

My health the last year has been steadily downhill until the last couple of weeks.

Life threw a lot of curveballs in late ‘ll and all of ’12 and into early ’13.

Now, me and my lover, we’re happy. We don’t see each other enough. She works mornings, I work nights. I rarely get two days off in a row, she works three days a week.

But soon, we’re going to change for the better. I’ve stopped drinking almost completely. I had four beers out with her friends the other night and I was drunk.

I like that.

No more coming home from work, alone, sitting on a couch downloading movies or watching British ESPN on the internet while drinking 12 beers every night and eating a bad of Doritoes.

Nope.

Replaced it with walking the dog every day, looking at the sun and trying to complete the elusive 1987 Fleer autographed set. Nearing card No. 400 out of 653. Not too shabby. Found out today that Wade Boggs and Terry Steinbach sign if you give them a little fee for their charity. Gonna do that pronto.

Brought the doggie around some kids the other day. Testing the waters, as they say. You find out that’s happening right after you get a dog from the pound – part pit bull – and you have to worry.

Not that I think he’s got that in him. But, you gotta find out. So why not use other people’s kids as test subjects. He passed with flying colors.

Irony of all this happening right at this moment makes me giggle a bit.

I wonder if Rob Halford giggles when the need strikes? I’d like to think so. He and Glen Tipton are sitting around in their old flat back in the 1970s giggling while writing songs. That’s a nice image, really.

Then I start to think about how much different things would have been in the 90s and 00s if it had been 10 years later. Cell phones and constant updates and all. Skype to stay close.

The mind, it wonders and wanders too much at times.

Then I look at the empty bag of Cheese Balls from Utz! Sitting on the coffee table, right next to the “Films of Burt Reynolds” book that I put there when I moved in and my angst leaves.

It’s nice to find happiness, even when you find it late.

The struggles have been monumental, but I think it’ll all be worth it.

Titled...

I’ve broken the rules before, so who really cares, right?

Congrats.

It’s hard to come up with other words. Not really a need for them.

Just congrats.

The hardest part is telling everyone about it.

And hoping afterward.

Anyways, I’m happy, you’re happy. Be happy.

I’m drunk. First time in months.

Here’s hoping my August is as good as your whenever…