It's All Hallows, and that DAMN CV comes back to HAUNT me!

Happy horrordays, one and all!
School is officially over after Tuesday--yeah, for all the bloody swots that actually showed up for all the classes--SOME of us will be making up hours a WEEK after graduation, and then forking over even MORE money for make up nights *SIGH*.......... I had an interview with a chair massage company that the beautiful and talented Dawn(see above) referred me to-- they tested my grip strength--fingers only, no thumbs--my right hand was 75 lbs of squeezy pressure, and my left was a whopping 79 lbs. Then on to the thumb compression test--press down with the thumb only--22lbs both sides. Now I understand why I keep breaking my toothbrush-- you should see it "brush,brush,brush,brush SNAP!"--there's Trey, with a broken toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, and the handle in his hand. EEERRRR!! Fire BAD!! Friend GOOD!
I knew I'd omitted something from my CV--Freudian slip, really. Back in '97, while I was doing the video gig, I took on a job as a security guard at an overpriviledged kids dorm off campus. Our official title was "Courtesy Patrol"--could you puke? It was a complete and utter bullshit gig--thankfully, the job came with no actual authority or real duties, other than hourly patrol and recordkeeping--of the patrols. My co-Nazis were the saddest bunch of losers I've ever worked with outside of radio. Real chip-on-the-shoulder bozos, dying for some respect, and failing to earn it. Sad, really. As my boss(too sad to go into now) clearly explained that I was there to keep the building from burning down or letting anyone bleed to death, I made it my mission to teach the little fucks that "discretion is the better part of getting away with it". I had my favorites--the "problem" kids that recognized me as what I was--one of them, all grown up.
I wore my hair very short that year-- short hair on me =scary. Really. So I worked the whole "looking like a psycho" thing-- I allowed my young charges to believe what they liked about me. They figured I was probably a hit man hiding out between jobs. Ok--that'll do. I would occasionally allude to the "to vanish mysteriously" list when they were too naughty. We got along just fine.
As I was dangerously bored most nights, I staged little entertainments for the kids. My favorite was the night that a gaggle of them came in late/drunk/tripping. I met them on the second floor, looking around, acting distracted and a little angry. The monologue went "You know what I HATE?...You hear a noise, you stash the body just for a second to make sure the coast is clear, and when you come back--it's gone. So that can only mean one of three things, none of them good. Either they weren't as dead as you thought--but who survives decapitation? Two, maybe you have some undead zombie thing shambling around, but again, decapitation, so rule THAT one out,too--which leads us to three--someone else found it and moved it. Ok, children--young, impulsive children---is there something you need to tell Trey?"
I wonder how those kids are doing these days, and if they ever recall those days. And how much therapy they had to undergo. Nostalgia.......memory, all alone in the moonlight, la de da dee dee dum da, la la la la la laaaaaaa!

Random Update/ more on my CV/school's nearly done

Phew!! Finished my shiatsu practicum last night--I believe I did well, as the grader/instructor gave me praise at the end. Randy--our instructor (who flew in from chicago--and are his arms tired) is great--looks a bit like the bastard lovechild of Ozzy Osborn and Tommy Lee, and knows that shiatsu cold. Glad it's done with, all the same. School will be over in a week (I still have a make up night the week after graduation), and work is beginning to trickle in, much gratitude to all! I've a client this evening, an interview with a chair massage company this friday, and next thursday I'll be doing a 4 hour chair gig that the lovely Dawn hooked me up with. Bless you,love!
OK-- as it's nearly Samhain (that's pronounced "sah-when") or Halloween, I'd like to take a moment to tell a tale of fear--for pay. Yep, this is a memeory of working at the haunted house I alluded to in the previous post.
My two favorite memories are of working the Frankenstein's lab scene--as the creature, naturally. I'm large, so it was only fitting that I be cast as the monster. To make me even larger, they worked up a pair of stilted boots that made me stand about 6'8", in addition to the head piece. Truly ghastly.
The majority of people who came through were already frightened--we just provided a backdrop for their fear to project upon. Made me almost feel guilty for accepting pay, as our clients had brought their fear with them. One such group was atrio of small boys, about 7-8 years of age. I saw them peer around the corner at the entrance to the scene--when the clapped eyes on Dr. F, the squealed and ran like hell toward the exit--where I was lurking. Not being an utter bastard, I didn't wish for them to encounter me in the darkened exit hall, so I clumped out into the light a few yards clear of the escape route. The smallest lad--clutched in the middle--punched me in the ribs as he was swept past by his larger siblings. I was so proud of him--he glared right at me, and swung his wee fist as hard as he could. Left a wee bruise and everything. I hope he brags about it, as it was quite brave of him.
Another night at the lab, I was working the scene alone while the good doctor skived off for a smoke. Lurking in my corner, I saw a pair of gents enter the scene, surveying the decore. I did my stomp and growl up to the pair-- a couple of gay gents, dressed quite alike, who gave me a very arch nod of the head, as if to say "yes, we see you--what of it?" My response was one of "oh, so I'm not scary,eh?" I growled in my best Karloff imitation:"Monster want new braaaaain. Want learn make bruuuuunch. appreciate operaaaaa. sing show tunes." The gents gave me a quite perterbed look, and scurried toward the exit. I called "wait! Monster having special feelings". The moral of the story--don't patronize the monsters, love. Even if you are someone I'd normally be sympathetic towards, have the manners to at least pretend you're slightly nervous, lest I improvise something more effective than my cliche costume.

A (mostly complete, I think) Curriculum Vitae

Ok, at Mariana's prompting..........And in order(mostly, I think--again)........
(teens)
teacher's aide ,
cinema assistant manager ,
waiter ,
cook,
radio copywriter/producer (commercials--small station in south Texas) ,
dishwasher ,
kitchen manager/cook,
(20's)
radio personality (dj--see above small station) ,
public service director (see above) ,
janitor (ditto) what can I say--the pay sucked at KOPY,
cook (again),
laboratory assistant (call me "beaker") ,
landscaper,
psychiatric nurse's aide ,
30's
photographer/video producer ,
courier,
safe ride driver (drive drunk people home in their own vehicle) ,
bartender,
caterer ,
(40's)
psychiatric admissions clerk ,
psych tech ,
massage therapist .
(there have been numerous casual/part time/temporary positions, I forget many right now--the coolest was at a haunted house where I was paid to be scary)

My late brother was a jack-of-all-trades type, as was our father. The longest I've remained in any one position is 7 years. I have high hopes for my massage practice-- it's something that ought to stay fresh, particularly with the continuing education requirements. But I admit, I'm already thinking ahead--I want to open my own spa, in the Roman style--a recreation of a Roman bath house, with all the tile mosaics, etc. Also, a retreat/spa combo appeals to me--something like an old summercamp renovated to be a get away. Also, Dawn, Amber and I have discussed opening a Texas themed pub/restaurant somewhere (not Texas, obviously). Who knows what the future will bring? All I can say is, as long as I continue to learn new skills, I ought to stay relatively young(ish).
Here's hoping!
And still, I have the nagging feeling I've forgotton something...............

My Baby Twin Sister is a Goddess

Amber got us tickets to the Harry Potter premier in November--it's at the Cinema where they serve food and beverages. They are planning a special Hogwarts themed feast to go with the movie, all included in the price of admission. Is she the cat's meow, or what, folks? (hint:MEOW!!!!)

Another 60's memory

I received my license in today's mail--I'm even happier than yesterday. Dawn and I went to Veggie Heaven for dinner and bubble tea, then I spent today in shiatsu training, and had my first client as a pedigreed MT afterward. "tis knackered I'm being!
Ok, time for another 60's flashback: the day I noticed I was breathing!
I was two. I was riding my beloved tricycle. As I careened around a corner, I startled myself, and took in a sudden, sharp inhalation. I'd never noticed myself breathing before that--it had been completely out of my consciousness. I was perturbed, because I couldn't stop doing it. I thought I was entirely too young to have any habits! I went and found Ma, and told her "watch this", and took a breath. I asked her "what's that called?" She replied "It's called "respiration" or "breathing"." I asked "How do I stop?" She replied that didn't, shouldn't, and wouldn't. I insisted that I had never done it before a few minutes ago, and found it annoying. She assured me that I had been doing it since birth. I had my doubts, but since I'd learned anew word/concept, I rode off to have a think about it.
And that,ladies and gents, is the story of how I noticed I was addicted to oxygen.

FINALLY!!!

I received news today THAT I PASSED THE EXAM!! wOOt! I can now carry on with my career in massage therapy. The state posted a roster of those who passed--there were 690 of us on the list! Since I will be specializing in serving deaf clients, I feel A:no worries about competeing with my friends, and B: not so worried about competition in general. There are approximately 60,000 deaf and hard of hearing individuals living in and around Travis county. Yes, SIXTY THOUSAND. And I've yet to find a therapist specializing in serving them. I worked in the state's only deaf psychiatric facility a few years back, and need to polish up my sighning skills a wee bit, but heavens--I found a niche that needs filling. My immediate financial goals are A: get out of debt, and B: get my teeth fixed. I have monkey fangs--I like them, but they may be a bit scary to people who don't know me well--particularly if they've just disrobed and gotten under the linens on the massage table. I think less feral looking may be a good look for me--I've had nearly 45 years of my sexy fangs, and it will be a couple o' years untill I can afford any major work, so by the time I get around to it, I will have had the wild look long enough. Don't worry--no plan to cut my hair short or anything silly like that.

News

Priorities, people—priorities…..
Here in Austin, the local state university has a historic rivalry with the corresponding university of our northern bordering neighbor. It is a huge thing here, and has been for what seems like forever. Still, what with Austin’s reputation for having “the most liberal populace in Texas”, you might think that the earthquake in Asia might get more front page space than the local team’s win over the hated rival. Riiiiiiight……..
The earthquake got one column. The college football game? A half page.
Sports mania is something that managed to pass me by, as did rabid fandom of any sort. I know that it is not limited to Texas, or even the U.S. Football hooligans exist the world around. Whatever. Sports fans have existed as far back as imperial Rome—fact. There is something in communal athletic competition that appeals to a large percent of humanity. I get that. My beef is with the local paper. Front page news is usually reserved for national and international events of importance. A huge earthquake in Asia fits that description. A sporting victory—no matter how steeped in local tradition—is better suited to the second section—the “city and state” section. Really, had they devoted the entire first page of the appropriate section to the game, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. There is also the whole concept of “news”. The result of the game was widely known to the vast majority of those who give a fuck way before the paper went to press.
Oh, yeah—about that second section…. it was dominated by a really cute photo of a young boy in a tree. Go figure.

Getting to Know my Fear

I just got over a short bout of food poisoning--unpleasant,yes-- and it gave me some insight, of the uncomfortable variety. As people often do when unwell, I had unpleasant dreams, and I realized that they conformed to a pattern that has existed since childhood.
As a young person--8 years old--way too young for existential nausea-- I had a recurring nightmare about a vast room, as big as infinity, with a chessboard floor. I was alone in it, sometimes near a wall, which was frightening--I knew I could walk forever and never find another wall; sometimes I was somewhere towards the middle of the room--also frightening, as I knew I could never reach a wall, no matter if I walked forever. Ok, this dream, easy to interpret-- cosmic insignificance/ultimate aloneness. Way too young, but I was a precocious little bastard.
Then, in adolescence, came the dream about floating in space--no body, just consciousness--holding a huge number in my mind. Before me is a galaxy, and I have to count the atoms in every bit of matter. There are endless galaxies all around me in every direction, I have to count them all, and if I lose count, I'll be sent back to the "beginning". Quite hellish, thanks a lot.
Now, the dream has evolved into one of words--a completed work will manifest in my consciousness, and I'm expected to recall and produce it. Always a vast body of work, complete--and me left to bring it into being.
So that's my fear. Monsters don't scare me-- even as a child, I dreamt about conquering monsters. In one I had as a quite young child of 5, a dragon was in our neighborhood, and I set out to slay it, sword and all. I found it boarding an airplane, and it smiled benignly at me, so I watched it carefully until it was gone. I was willing to kill it, but as it was leaving, and signaling harmlessness, I watched it warily rather than just slaying it because it was a dragon. Rescuing others from monsters has been a theme in my dreams-- they are stressful, but I always manage to come up with something to sort the problem out.
My real fear, I realize, is not being able to live up to a responsibility, failing in a duty that I don't understand, and/or being burdened with more than I can manage.

Happy Birthday to Bart

Bart is my oldest friend--he's 204!(ok, Monty Python reference...) no, really--we've known each other since we were both 9 years old--we met in 1970--that was 3rd grade-- and by the end of the year, we had managed to divide the class into two warring factions, complete with spies and counter spies. I often think that Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes, not the misantropic theologian) was based on him. I'm certain that Pinky and the Brain, Akbar and Jeff, and Ren and Stimpy are based on our friendship. Someday, we'll sue, and then fight over the money.
Today is his 45th birthday. I'm reprinting this amusing e-mail that he put together to cheer me up from a case of food poisoning. It's from some damn book he was reading--he's heavy on the ancients, and Phillip Wylie, and all sorts of mega-brain stuff. He also is a squirrel enthusiast-- they come into his apartment, and one--Shelly--eats from his hand. He is like Snow White, only hairy. Ok, on to the e-mail:

Hope you're feeling a bit better today. Maybe these observations will cheer you up. But before I begin speaking I have a few things I would like to say...
I think, therfore I am?Could be.Unless it's really someone else who only *thinks* he's me!
An apochryphal story:Epimenides the Cretan grew interested in the wisdom of the east,and heard of a wise man called the Buddha. He decided to make the long journey to see for himself if the Buddha was as wise as his reputation, and if so to learn what he could from him. Along the way he considered many questions he could ask trying to determine which would be the best possible inquiry to ask the sainted wise man, and finally made his decision. When he met Buddha he asked, "What is the best question that can be asked, and what is the best answerthat can be given?" The Buddha replied, "The best question that can be asked is the one you have asked. And the best answer that canbe given is the answer I am giving you."
Now a few musical notes:When Mark Twain was asked what he thought of the music of RichardWagner he replied, "Well, it's probably not as bad as it sounds."
Once when the modernist composer Paul Hindemith was rehearsing oneof his more dissonant composition he grew angry, rapped his baton on the podium and said, "No, no, no, gentleman! Even though it sounds wrong it's still not right!"
And now for something completely different:Our Conversation Last Night
Trey: It's true!Bart: It's not!
Trey: Yes it is!Bart: It can't be!
Trey: It's true!Bart: Prove it!
Trey: Well it can't be proved, but it's still true!Bart: How can you say it's true if it can't be proved!
Trey: There are certain thing that are true even thought they can't beproved!Bart: That's not true!
Trey: Yes it is. Godel proved that there are certain things that aretrue but can't be proved!Bart: That's not true!
Trey: It certainly is!Bart: It can't be, and even if it were true, it could never be proved!
Well, now I'm sure you'll agree that this great collection of reflections
provides you with your own quite special way of seeing such things as why
if you don't read this email you'll never be the same again.Hope you feel better now. I've got to close. I've got some sign work to do. I'm making some "Authorized Parking Forbidden"signs!B

National State of Alert Levels of Many Countries

From my wicked friend, Nancy, to my friend Sandy (also wicked), to me(wicked beyond repair)—an e-mail she forwarded. In light of W’s recently escalated fear campaign—hoping we’ll all forget his shameful fuck up with New Orleans and go back to cowering and surrendering our human rights ala post 9/11--
National State of Alert Levels

The British are feeling the pinch in relation to recent bombings, and
the level has just been raised from "miffed" to "peeved." Soon though,
the levels may be raised yet again to "irritated" or even "a bit
cross." Londoners have not been a "bit cross" since the Blitz in 1940
when tea supplies all but ran out.

Terrorists have been re-categorized from "tiresome" to "a bloody
nuisance," the last time a "bloody nuisance" warning level was issued
was during the great fire in 1666.

Be aware that the French government announced yesterday that it has
raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher
levels in
France are "Surrender" and "Collaborate." The rise was precipitated by
a recent fire that destroyed France 's white flag factory, effectively
paralyzing their military capability.

It's not only the French that are on a heightened level of alert: the
Italians have increased their alert level from "shout loudly and
excitedly" to "elaborate military posturing." Two more levels remain,
"ineffective combat operations" and "change sides."

The Germans also increased their alert state from "disdainful
arrogance"
to "dress in uniform and sing marching songs." They have two higher
levels, "invade a neighbor" and "lose."

Seeing this reaction in continental Europe, the Americans have gone
from
"isolationism" to "find another oil-rich nation in the middle east
ripe for regime change." Their remaining higher alert states are "attack
the world" and "beg the British for help."

Finally here in Blightey we've now gone from "pretend nothing's
happening" to "make another cup of tea." Our higher levels are "remain resolutely cheerful" and "win."

Call Me a Lazy Sod, but........

sometimes you just have to share.....

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/41258

Your Horoscope
October 5, 2005 Issue 41•40
Aries March 21 - April 19
The stars do not usually warn mortals of specific outcomes or specific futures, but if you throw away a pair of face cards to try and fill a straight one more time, they're going to come down there and kill you.
Taurus April 20 - May 20
You'll be swarmed by a rare strain of Americanized killer bees who, unlike their Africanized cousins, just want to hang out and watch TV all day.
Gemini May 21 - June 21
Nothing of note will happen in the part of the week when you'll still be around.
Cancer June 22 - July 22
After three long years, and 18 months before parole, prison sex is just as boring and rote as any other kind.
Leo July 23 - August 22
You thought the magic lamp looked kind of weird, and you're still sort of wondering what exactly that genie meant when he said you would now be immortal in dog years.
Virgo August 23 - September 22
The sun and moon themselves will fall madly in love with you and set about vying for your affection by showering you with gifts, so, unfortunately, you'll be killed Thursday afternoon by a dozen roses and a box of chocolates traveling at near-orbital velocity.
Libra September 23 - October 23
You won't be hit by a bus this week, exactly. Circumstances will unfold so that you're traveling at almost 100 miles an hour when you strike a stationary bus.
Scorpio October 24 - November 21
Do not give up hope for happiness and companionship, for love is very real. However, none of the trite behaviors or quasi-magical aspects you attribute to love actually exist.
Sagittarius November 22 - December 21
People are starting to wonder exactly how many times someone has to yell "Get Funky!" at you before you actually take the hint and do so.
Capricorn December 22 - January 19
You've always known that people are good deep down inside, but it's still a pain to carve away the excess skin and flab to get to the savory parts.
Aquarius January 20 - February 18
Your future seems to contain a great amount of fluorescent lighting, a lot of spreadsheets, and a great many people trying to avoid meaningful contact with you; basically, everything you went to college for.
Pisces February 19 - March 20
You'll be simultaneously struck by mystical lightning, bathed with otherworldly cosmic rays, and injected with the Apollo Serum, so you'll be a pretty powerful superhero if you ever get out of the coma.

nothing like a little vicious satire

Women I Adore : Pt 1

I am full on crazy about Anjelica Huston. As an actress, she always delights me with her subtle, elegant performances. There is always something powerful, and kind of witchy about her--I love that. Sometimes it's obvious--Morticia Addams, Miss Eva Ernst (The Witches), Viviane(The Mists of Avalon), at other times it's much more restrained--Elanor Zissou leaps to mind ("I've never seen that species of crab mate before the summer solstice"). She can be intimidating and tough--as Maerose Prizzi, as Lilly Dillon (The Grifters), she can be unsympathetic--as the football obsessed mother in Buffalo '66, the Baronness in "Ever After"; she inspires in her portrayals of historic figures-Calamity Jane, Carrie Catt;and in "The Dead", as Gretta Conroy, she brought my favorite character from Joyce's "The Dubliners" to heartwrenching life.
As a person, I find her inspiring. In her first major screen role-Claudia in "A Walk with Love and Death"--she stank up the screen. Really sucked. The story goes that family friend Sir John Gielgud told her, after seeing the film, "next time you feel like acting, lie down until it passes". Ouch. She stayed out of films for 6 years after that, with her first returnto the screen in an uncredited crowd scene in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". She stands as a sterling example of learning from mistakes, humility, and perseverance.

Another 60s Memory

Oh,boy…..this one’s kind of embarrassing.
Ok, in the 60’s, the “rat pack” was the epitome of cool. You know, Sinatra, Dean Martin, all those guys. And people drank like very thirsty fishes on TV—look at an old episode of “Bewitched” for example…. Pitchers of Martinis! So, I made the logical connection—cool guys invited girls they liked back to their place for cocktails. So, at the tender age of 7 (yes SEVEN), I invited a wee lassie back to “the pad” after school. I knew where the ‘rents stashed the booze and mixers, and I was tall enough to reach the highball glasses in the cabinet. The wee lass had no taste for the hard stuff, so I mixed them quite weak, and we sat around and chatted until the ‘rents got home (me being the original latch key kid). Needless to say, they were NOT AMUSED. Nor was the wee girly’s mum, when she came home with WHISKEY ON HER BREATH!!!! I honestly didn’t see what all the palaver was about—it was all completely innocent, as far as I was concerned. If it had happened today, we’d have all been on Springer or Oprah or something. Come to think on it, we got away with lots of things that simply wouldn’t fly today. I’m not really sure how I feel about that—somewhere between smug and embarrassed.